November 9th, 2013

ugly_bugger by nanfoodle

(no subject)

I think my readerly reactions are becoming overly-nice (in the Bingley sense of the word.) Elizabeth Hand's Mortal Love is irritating me the way The Magus did oh so long ago-- twit of the first water falls for mysterious Bad News woman and willfully seeks his own salvation (in the Hamlet sense of the term.) Male characters behaving stupidly for cock-related reasons somehow irritate me more than female characters behaving stupidly for Jungian animus reasons: possibly because I understand the animus thing but not, obviously, the cock one; possibly because in real world terms the latter is far more likely to be fatal to the woman than the former is to the man. And it's bad enough when male writers act as if the reverse was true, or at least, that damage to men was far more terrible than damage to women. Oh the Fatal Woman preying on poor helpless men with no self-control will of their own: how very much you do not impress me. Your victims are Darwin Award candidates, pure and simple. But in this case it's a woman writer and I have no idea what she thinks she's doing.

But more happily: one advantage of *not* living in the present moment with its perennial present moment frets is the realization that, compared with other times, the present moment is actually quite wonderful. In this case autumn: which is not only the most comfortable season (the worst it does is rain, though granted days on end of autumn rain can grow tedious) but has the constant positive reinforcement of being beautiful every time you walk outside or even look out a window. Aesthetic satisfaction cannot be underrated. I wish there was a place where leaves were always yellow rather than green: it does the most amazing things to the quality of the light, even on grey days.