We drink and … that theme is done.

August 4th, 2020Posted by Nancy

What is there to say on any of this anymore? The days come and go, I write a bit or I don’t, I practice flamenco or I don’t, I garden or I don’t. None of it is very interesting.

This is not to say there haven’t been good moments. Socially distanced picnics and cocktails have been managed. Our region has gone into Stage 3, which means indoor dining and going to the gym is back on the table, but I can’t imagine doing either of those things.

I’ve discovered it’s hard to learn flamenco choreography via Zoom, not least because my brain insists that when someone dances facing you, then you are their mirror image and their right hand is your left etc. This has been drilled into me through years of gym classes and Zumba and I’m just not capable to learning choreography AND to reverse the mirror at the same time. Fortunately, I won’t ever been required to perform the piece.

Things I’ve read:

Final Girls, by Riley Sager. What happens after you survive the classic “cabin in the woods” massacre. I saw the twist coming but it moves along at a good clip.

Exit, Pursued by a Bear, by E.K. Johnston. Yet another book I was surprised by when I finally borrowed it. Not genre (though I would have thought competitive cheerleading was actually a fantasy in Ontario). It turned out to be about the aftermath of a sexual assault and was beautiful and unexpected and honest. And funny.

Under the Ivy: The Life and Music of Kate Bush, by Graeme Thomson. Updated to include her live shows in 2014. Which I would have flown to England to see, if I’d been able to get tickets. It’s an enduring regret that I blew that one.

A Memory Called Empire, by Arkady Martine. I’d actually bought this a while ago but hadn’t had a chance to read it. Then it won the Hugo, so I thought I should get at it. Excellent.

The Surface Breaks, by Louise O’Neill. A YA retelling of The Little Mermaid. Some lovely writing marred by being heavy-handed on the evils of the patriarchy. It needed a bit more nuance.

The Prince of Midnight, by Laura Kinsdale. I’m working my way slowly through her books. I still skip the sex scenes but she’s not afraid to make her heroines spiky and damaged, which I appreciate.

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