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How we grew each other's hearts and schemes of home
I got up early this morning for a COVID-19 test so that I can make my doctor's appointment on Friday. I would prefer not to have to see a doctor at all, but once again it turns out that being kept from regular access to medical care is bad for me. I am still not exactly sleeping and it means I'm not doing much of anything else except working, although I did eat some very nice Taiwanese food this afternoon and discover to my surprise that a pair of jeans I bought off the internet actually more or less fit. I have moved on to watching the 2005 BBC Bleak House, which I remember my father highly recommending to me at a point in time when I just couldn't picture anyone but Denholm Elliott as John Jarndyce. I am in fact enjoying it. I may also be maxing out my capacity to watch TV. I'm treating it as an experiment. While visiting my mother for purposes of honeycake-baking earlier this week, I ran into the neighbor with whom I had discussed the radio telescope I built in high school and Fred Hoyle's The Black Cloud (1957); this time he wanted to know if I had read Edwin Abbott Abbott's Flatland (1884) and then he asked what sort of science I did nowadays. I had to explain that I am not professionally a scientist any more than I am professionally a classicist or professionally a musician or any of the other things I seem to look like to people until they get close enough, although I did at least remember to tell him that I am professionally a writer. I know part of it is the beginning of the academic year, which I am starting to feel I will have to be actually dead not to feel like a ghost-shiver from the wrong universe over. (I hope that one is less plague-ridden and/or on fire. Somebody should get to be.) I know the sleeplessness never helps and I have been rummaging around in parts of my head that were likely to produce this reaction. I think I'd feel a lot better if I could write a poem about it. But for that I would have to be healthier and sleep more, which is where we came in.
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Yes. They were willing to consider waiving it since I have been for months a shut-in who interacts only with other shut-ins (and has tested negative multiple times before), but I didn't push: I do not mind my doctors feeling reassured that I won't make them sick. I'll have to get tested again afterward, of course, since I will have been inside a clinic. That will be trickier.
Otherwise, I mostly wanted to smack those people (nearly all of them). I'm sure it did me good to be familiar with a Dickens novel that I would probably never read, though.
I loved the 1985 BBC Bleak House when I discovered it in 2010; it was one of the rare cases where I had not read the book first and had only the vaguest idea of the premise, putting me in much the same position as Dickens' original serialized readers. (I guessed most of the reveals before they were, but I can do that with any decently patterned narrative.) It had a top-notch cast, a production design that really committed to its candlepower, and a near-supernatural, slightly Tarot-like feel that turned out to source directly from the novel. I always meant to write it up and never did. Enough time then passed that I could contemplate trying the 2005 version and I am finding the differences and similarities really interesting, as well as enjoying the performances. I still want to rewatch the 1985 version. And I have a friend who can get me a copy of the 1959 BBC Bleak House which I am (amazed still exists, given how much TV of the 1950's doesn't) almost certainly going to watch for the sake of completeness and Colin Jeavons, and then I suspect I will be Bleak House'd out.
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CAN’T YOU JUST INFORM PEOPLE
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IT DETRACTS FROM THE EXPERIENCE.
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I can't promise how you'll feel about it as a version of one of your favorite books, but in terms of attention span, I think if you can handle kdramas, you can totally handle a 15-episode Bleak House. (I am seven episodes in and only prevented from binge-watching by the technological bottleneck between me and my generous greymarket source.) I am happy to give opinions on random things that have struck me so far, so long as you keep in mind that I have not read the novel or seen the earlier version in ten years. In terms of where we are in the narrative, Johnny Vegas just spontaneously combusted.