Praise be! It's Wednesday!
So annoying to have High Definition telly and NOTHING to watch for the past two nights if you're not interested in ballroom dancing and have already seen all the Oscar frocks online and found out who won what on the news.
I did TRY to watch the red carpet special but Richard Wilkins's hair was so irritating I had to leave the room. My Beloved persisted for another ten minutes but couldn't believe that rich and famous people had to stand there and answer Mr Wilkins's asinine questions of "How long did it take you to get ready? Who made the gown? Do you know anyone here?" I told him that Richard was one of about 50 people they had to be nice to before going in where there wasn't even going to be food.
We're both rather glad we'll never have to bother with all that although the free clothes look nice.
At least there's a reasonable hour or so on the ABC tonight. Exciting inventions and nostalgic music! After that I may be scrubbing the kitchen cupboards because I've been far far too embarrassed to watch more than half of every previous episode of "Extras" and "The Worst Week of My Life".
While ignoring these shows last week, I did read part of an excellent book. It was Ghostwritten by David Mitchell. This was his first novel and published in 1999. He's been nominated for the Booker prize since then and if this pyrotechnic display is a sign of how he would develop I'm not surprised. It's terribly clever but has enough heart to make you not mind the show-offiness of nine sepearate but vaguely related narratives in different genres. Each chapter is in a different voice and place, including Japan, China, Russia, the UK, Ireland and the US. There are echoes of Mishima, that guy who wrote Sputnik Baby, Borges and various SF and thriller writers.
Mitchell seems to have entered alien Eastern cultures particularly well but then I wouldn't really know. Unfortunately the only Australian character is a young woman prone to saying "Oath" so I'm not entirely sure whether to trust him on anything else. Nevertheless, it distracted me from the glowing box for a while.
I did TRY to watch the red carpet special but Richard Wilkins's hair was so irritating I had to leave the room. My Beloved persisted for another ten minutes but couldn't believe that rich and famous people had to stand there and answer Mr Wilkins's asinine questions of "How long did it take you to get ready? Who made the gown? Do you know anyone here?" I told him that Richard was one of about 50 people they had to be nice to before going in where there wasn't even going to be food.
We're both rather glad we'll never have to bother with all that although the free clothes look nice.
At least there's a reasonable hour or so on the ABC tonight. Exciting inventions and nostalgic music! After that I may be scrubbing the kitchen cupboards because I've been far far too embarrassed to watch more than half of every previous episode of "Extras" and "The Worst Week of My Life".
While ignoring these shows last week, I did read part of an excellent book. It was Ghostwritten by David Mitchell. This was his first novel and published in 1999. He's been nominated for the Booker prize since then and if this pyrotechnic display is a sign of how he would develop I'm not surprised. It's terribly clever but has enough heart to make you not mind the show-offiness of nine sepearate but vaguely related narratives in different genres. Each chapter is in a different voice and place, including Japan, China, Russia, the UK, Ireland and the US. There are echoes of Mishima, that guy who wrote Sputnik Baby, Borges and various SF and thriller writers.
Mitchell seems to have entered alien Eastern cultures particularly well but then I wouldn't really know. Unfortunately the only Australian character is a young woman prone to saying "Oath" so I'm not entirely sure whether to trust him on anything else. Nevertheless, it distracted me from the glowing box for a while.
Labels: telly
posted by Mary Bennet | 4:45 pm
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