Nightvale and Jason Webley in London

The venue was gothic, lit for high drama or an alien invasion. It was a Welcome to Nightvale show, so the combination event was a quite reasonable expectation.

I wondered what the builders of this church would have thought, if they could see the future and extremely secular performances that would one day take place here. Hopefully, they'd be delighted that art and community are alive.

The stagecraft was great, which has always impressed me about Welcome to Nightvale. The professionalism. It's amazing how much of a show they can put on from an audio-only podcast. Cecil Palmer is a breathtaking performer. Last year, his creepy hand gestures alone gave me goosebumps; his voice made me sigh; his energy is direct and electric, even when he is simply standing still onstage and not even using his melodious voice at all.

If you haven't listened to Welcome to Nightvale, please do. Start at the beginning. See for yourself if it grabs you, or tickles you, or is simply a nice backdrop for washing the dishes.


This post's theme word is mithridatism, "the developing of immunity to a poison by taking gradually increasing doses of it." Over time, Nightvale exposure will inoculate against Lovecraft- and purple prose-sensitivities via mithridatism and the pure joy of Carlos.

Tehanu

Ursula K. Le Guin's Earthsea series continues with Tehanu, which despite the long authorial pause between books, starts about 10 minutes after the previous book ended. Ged is powerless and lost, Tenar is a widow, landowner, farmer, and responsible for an abandoned child (herself victim of horrible abuse).  They must all figure out how to live in the world again, each relying on the others. The book --- like so many of Le Guin's books --- is ultimately a gentle, soft paean to the power of community, and of the people standing behind the heroes (or even distantly offstage).

The book's main actions are small and the fantasy world's magic is secondary, since none of the main characters have any puissance left (Ged spent his in book #3, Tenar in book #2), so this book ends up being mostly about daily choices, doing chores, resolving again and again to live on past tragedy. It is a book of small enjoyments, where a single peach, ripe and juicy, is a recurrent focal point. The conflict is not clear (at least to this reader), and does not build steadily to a climactic denouement; rather, the many small conflicts of daily life are each resolved, or deferred, as they arise, and eventually the book has a very unexpected dramatic scene, then it ends.

Because I am on an Earthsea binge, this book was over before I realized; it is quiet, and subtle. The author's note at the end contains many noteworthy thoughts about the book, as well as summarizing various critical responses which touched on my too-fast reading: it was heavy-handed, or nothing happened, or it was radically pro- or anti-feminist. Really it's none of those things, but calling this a continuation of a "young adult" series is, IMHO, misleading ---- this book requires much more thought and slow consumption than usual young adult fare. Or perhaps I misremember my youth of voracious reading; this book will certainly be better savored in a reread, as the point is not what happens in the plot or even how the plot is written, but rather, what happens in the characters' minds between and around plot events. This requires a lot of attention from the reader to simulate and examine.

Still recommend! Start at the beginning of the series, though. Otherwise the emotional weight of these characters, making these decisions, will be missing for you.


This post's theme word is hircine, "of or relating to a goat; having a strong odor; lusty, lewd." The island of Gont has much that is hircine: goat milk, various wools, shepherding, etc.