(Note: If you see Hindi characters jump out, not my fault. I somehow made a hotkey--somewhere--that flips my keyboard to Hindi. I can't do it on purpose at Duolingo to save my life, but by God, when writing, I am suddenly in a different language. It's--weird. And I can't find the goddamn hotkey.)
1.) I did a little dance when Hallelujah got his 10,000 pounds. I keep thinking how his family reacted to it.
(His grandfather was an asshole; fuck him.)
2.) Good God Mary Whittaker was an ass. I mean yes a sociopath, but as Lady Mary said on the occassion a similar though not identical situation: I could live with you being a murderer but not as ass.
I can respect smart; I could even understand--in a very theoretical way--her point of view. Right up until the point there was a body count, then it was 'sociopathic ass'. And worse, she was cold-bloodedly stupid and pointlessly cruel. She created all the evidence against her after the fact by by sheer persistent paranoia. That's impressively dumb.
3.) I still cannot read Agatha and Clara as other than genteel lesbians living happily on a farm and everyone knew it. And I mean inside the text, so I have no idea what Dorothy was doing there, because the story went out of its way to not make them spinster buddies, and I'm a Regency reader who is used to the spinster buddies thing. For fuck's sake they were compare/contrast to Mary and poor Vera and how unhealthy the latter were compared to the former. Like, yeah, I do queer text reading and am in fanfic where I celebrate it, but in this case, it would be a pointless effort to try to read it otherwise.
IDK, I don't care, Agatha and Clara were happy lesbians doing some horsebreeding and homemaking, it's great. I got my romance hit. I really want a day in the life or something.
4.) I am charmed by Miss Climpson's punctuation and italics. I could read a book of letters from that woman forever.
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