Stranger Things, Netflix, and the Virtues of the Short and Sweet

Stranger Things, Netflix, and the Virtues of the Short and Sweet

One of the most engaging series available via streaming services right now is Stranger Things. The tightly written narrative of the show makes the it hard to label it as a “TV Show”. Its non-stop pace, super tight writing, and excellent performances make Stranger Things are more akin to an 8-hour movie than a show–something that, as the Duffer Brothers have said themselves, would have been unprecedented five years ago. The result is one of the most binge-worthy shows on Netflix, at the moment.

On the whole we’re starting to see some of the most popular and most critically acclaimed series hug the 10-14 episode range. Earlier in the history of TV, these sorts of shows would be labeled “mini-series” i.e. premium content more akin in budget and feel to extended movies than television shows. These premium features were gated behind premium gates that only the most television-invested and financially comfortable could afford to buy. Worse, the mini-series airing on them were anchored to the bygone system of scheduled airing.

Gross.

Today it’s become surprisingly affordable to access premium content. For only $9.99 a month (at the moment), anyone with a laptop, tablet, or smartphone can access some of the best original content out there (in addition to a large library of syndicated movies and TV shows) via Netflix. And they can do this at anytime and virtually anywhere.

In her breakdown of why Stranger Things just works, Maureen Ryan of Variety has this to say:

“Eight episodes was better for this story than the typical 10, 12, 13 or (heaven forbid) 22. I’m not dissing shows that have 22 episodes (I’d watch 44 episodes of “Jane the Virgin” every year, if the cast and crew could crank out that many). But a serialized story premised on supernatural events can only run so long before it starts repeating itself and destroying its own momentum. (I wonder what “Fringe” might have been had it only run for 10 episodes each season — it might have found its voice much sooner.)”

Ryan has a point that a shorter and sweeter structure lends itself better to science fiction (any Lost watchers out there?), whereas comedies generally lend themselves to less focused, more drawn out hijinks. However, taking a look at the average length of some of the most celebrated shows over the past couple of decades (see Chart and Table below), I can’t help but believe that short and sweet is the way of the future

Avg-Num-of-Episodes-per-Season.png
This is a super basic overview. I encourage stats nerds to explore this data more comprehensively.

Changing the Game

A number of writers have remarked on how the likes of Netflix, Hulu, and Amazon Prime are changing the ways that TV shows are being produced.

Netflix did not invent the concept of the binge-watch, as anybody who indulged in a month-long immersion into boxsets of The Wire can attest to. However, they did cut out the middle man – removing the inconvenience of weekly waits for new episodes and making every episode available immediately (as opposed to whenever the DVD came out). It was an ingenious decision that legitimately changed many people’s viewing habits.

-Stephen McNiece, NewsTalk.com

At a time when everyone in the TV industry is trying to guess what the future holds, it seems that technology and services which meet viewers’ new “on- demand attitudes” is the surest way to success.

-Eric Deggans, NPR

And one of my favorite pieces on the subject: Streaming TV Isn’t Just a New Way to Watch. It’s a New Genre, by James Poniewozik:

More so than any recent innovation in TV, streamin has the potential, even the likelihood, to create an entirely new genre of narrative: one with elements of television, film, and the novel, yet different from all of those. But it’s going to take time for all of us to master it.

Strangers Things, with its strong roots in the literary, the cinema, and the Weekly TV, seems to master it.

Character Development over Plot Progression

With the daily sitcom, writers and actors have free reign to ramble wherever they want to a degree. The goal of the the sitcom isn’t intense engagement. It’s stability. At the end of the day what matters is that the large demographic of television users have a touchstone to come back to. Regardless of what was going on in their lives, the viewer can sit in front of the television and watch The Andy Griffith Show, The Jeffersons, Three’s Company, Family Matters, Friends, The Cosby Show (well, maybe not anymore), Full House, or Fraser. The day-to-day plot of the sitcom often is of little importance. In Crazy Ex-Girlfriend we might be wondering whether or not will end up with and in How I Met Your Mother we might be wondering who ends up with, but the progression of these plots is so infinitesimal, that what what really brings us back is watching the same endearing characters doing largely the same endearing things. What matter is the stability. What mattered is the lack of change.

Consider Niles anxiously bumbling his way through life in Fraser (Avg. 24) 1993-2004.
Consider Erkle’s catchphrase “Did I do that?” in Family Matters (Avg. 24)
Consider how Friends (Avg. 24) “will be there for you.”

Stability as a means of audience retention is not limited to the sitcom. In fact, I would argue that with most programs lasting 12 episodes or more, stability or “character development” lies at the crux of the production. The primary means of activating and retaining viewers. Good entertainment requires character development. But these shows place a much larger emphasis on character development — the idea that I as a viewer get to watch characters grow as I grow alongside them and in the process find beautiful, resplendent catharsis — than plot.

Consider the Soap Opera

Soap operas get their name from the home products that would usually be targeted to it’s viewers, namely housewives, teenagers, and retired women, in commercials. These marathon productions that run every day and make plenty of hullabaloo about secrets being revealed, murders, affairs, and a whole other catalogue of dramatic plot-point fodder would seem to be the antithesis of stability. That is, until we look at plot density per episode.

Days of Our Lives (Avg. 244)  recently celebrated its 13,000th episode in July of 2016.
Passions (Avg. 246) had its series finale in 2008.

In the world of soap operas, where an episode has to be turned out every week day, there’s only so much action that can happen within a given week. It’s like all the episodes in a soap opera season comprise an ocean, and all the really juicy, plot-forwarding episodes comprise the tuna in that ocean. Just a speck in the grander scheme of things.

How about the dramatic series? The likes of ER (Avg. 23) and Grey’s Anatomy (Avg. 22)? The average amount of episodes for these shows is 20+. Sure over the course of Season 1, for instance, we may unravel the complexities of Dr. Ross’ emotional instability. But given that we’re juggling Dr. Ross’ plotline with those of a much larger cast and that some of the episodes that we watch are more like filler, isn’t 25 episodes (each lasting 45 minutes) a lot of time to ask the viewer to give?

ER (Avg. 22) 1994-2009
Grey’s Anatomy (Avg. 23) 2005-Present

Nevermind procedural dramas like Law and Order, CSI, and Bones. Their name alone gives away the fact that they are predicated on stability (see Heather Mason’s piece on procedurals vs. serials). Each episode goes through more or less the same procedure with maybe a handful of form-breaking zingers! Characters may die, different color filters might be applied, different storytelling techniques may be used (give me that first person narrative or that in medium res, please), but the ocean, the throughline of these shows is the same.

Law and Order (Avg. 23) 1990-2010
CSI (Avg. 22) 2000-2015

In brief:

Television + Time Constraints = Tightly written, more gratifying plot, binge-worthy material, greater investment from the viewer

Television – Time Constraints = Loose, rambling series that rely on their viewers investment in the characters over a gratifying plot, less investment from the viewer

Origin Stories

Even before the prevalence of instant-streaming services, production studios began to pick up on the this shorter/sweeter trend. Take for instance the 1990s. Although the shows that appeared during this time were syndicated by premium services like HBO and Showtime, they still proved to be successful. We’re talking The Sopranos (Avg. 12) and then The Wire (Avg. 12) at the turn of the 21st century before streaming was big. Later on, we saw the likes of Peaky Blinders (Avg. 6), Mad Men (Avg. 12), and Breaking Bad (Avg. 10) in the past several years.

Before long, we started seeing this leaner model of storytelling being adopted by less exclusive networks. In 2001, Fox’s 24 (Avg. 24) took the engaging angle of holding to a time constraint. Each episode occurred over the course of a real-time hour. The events in one episode would carry off in a quasi-realtime chronology into the next episode. Although the timeline is slightly more distorted in Stranger Things, the show operates off a similar one-episode stops another starts paradigm. In 2014, Fox premiered 24: Live Another Day (Avg. 12), which took up a much tighter schedule than its predecessor with a 12 episode schedule.

24 (Avg. 24 ) was one of the first popular network TV shows to deliberately play with tight time constraints.

 

Breaking Bad (Avg. 10) started airing on, but soon was picked up by Netflix for distribution.

 

Orange Is the New Black (Avg. 13) was one of the first Netflix Originals to show what the service could do.

Breaking Bad (Avg. 10), arguably one of the most viral and critically successful television shows of the last few years aired on AMC. Better Call Saul (Avg. 10), the spinoff to the series, also was produced by AMC. Is anyone surprised that Netflix bid heavily to be the exclusive instant distributors of both of these shows? The content of them is tighter, more binge-worthy, and therefore amazingly well-fit for instant streaming services.

Now, we are familiar with the streaming juggernauts of House of Cards (Avg. 13) and Orange Is the New Black (Avg. 13). Whether these series retain their allure as they continue into their latter seasons may be controversial. What is not controversial is how these series have managed to seize the attention of millions of viewers in their first couple of seasons.

But what about comedies?

There will always be an audience for the weekly sitcom. How I Met Your Mother (Avg. 23), Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (Avg. 18), and Jane the Virgin (Avg. 22) among others demonstrate that there is still an audience for shows whose seasonal output goes well above the average of 12 episode average.

But comedies too are taking a turn for the shorter and sweeter. The largely successful Louie (Avg. 12) started on FX before being picked up for distribution by Netflix. Arrested Development initially had success on Fox (Avg. 18), before it’s untimely demise. Ten years later in 2013, Netflix picked up the series for a 14 episode reboot.

Recently Netflix has had amazing success with it’s own comedy shows, the likes of Master of None (Avg. 10) and Lady Dynamite (Avg. 12) both attest to this.

Louie (Avg. 12) started on FX before being picked up for distribution by Netflix.
Master of None (Avg. 10) is an actor/writer/director show that allowed Ansari to explore modern love.
Lady Dynamite (Avg. 12) continues the tradition of the actor/writer breaking new narrative ground.

Even if the overarching narratives of these shows are not one that is as binge-worthy as say Stranger Things, these more bite-sized series force writers to economize their wit while also giving the consumer unprecedented access to the writer-actor in question. Both Master of None and Lady Dynamite center around two acclaimed comedians, Aziz Ansari and Maria Bamford respectively. Shows like this could not have existed before the advent of Netflix.

BBC

I’m obligated to point out that BBC and their lot has been on to this shorter, sweeter format for longer than we mangy yanks. That’s exactly why the likes of Sherlock (Avg. 3), Black Mirror (Avg. 6), Orphan Black (Avg. 10), Peaky Blinders (Avg. 6), Downton Abbey (Avg. 7.833), and even Dr. Who (Avg. 13)  have been released in smaller-sized, but nonetheless powerful series for quite some time.

Sherlock (Avg. 3) won audiences over in one-hour installments

 

Though episodic in nature, Black Mirror (Avg.3 ) technophobic throughline keeps viewers coming back.
Who ever thought that Peaky Blinders (Avg. 6) would be the hit that it was?

 

Sure the BBC airways have also served the likes of the Eastenders (Avg. 211) and Casualty (Avg. 2), but (barring weekly live shows like QI and Mock the Week) the many of the critically and internationally successful shows have been those that adhere to a more limited run.

Shorter and Sweeter

So what am I getting at here? Am I heralding the death of network television? No. Plenty of people (including John Stamos) have already done that. Although I will say that networks will need to continue partnering with content distributors in order to survive. Am I saying that Netflix, Amazon Prime, and Hulu are changing the way that consumers watch shows? Sure. But again, other people (see above) have already done a great job of covering that.

What I’m getting is is that time is becoming more of a premium. More and more viewers are opting to get their television narratives in tighter-packages. As Ben Bejarin from the Market Intelligence and Research Firm Creative Strategies Inc. posits that the future of television is the future of story of a service. Original streaming-specific shows like Stranger Things offer viewers the chance to watch a show “all at once or over time”. Bejarin goes onto say “This shift is just starting to happen but I do believe we are nearing a tipping point in the way consumers consume their content.”

Tighter narratives make up more than just a change in viewer taste, it’s where the market is heading.

When contemplating whether or not Stranger Things should be renewed for a second season, Maureen Ryan says, “No show has to go 100 episodes to be considered a success. Couldn’t eight be enough?”

In the era of instant streaming and binge-watching, we have and will continue to see a shift toward content that is shorter, sweeter, and to the point. Eight can be enough. And so can Eleven.

 


Average Number of Episodes per Season (Episodes Per Season / Total Seasons), Rounded to Nearest Whole Number

Show Episodes
24 24
24: Live Another Day 12
Arrested Development (Fox) 18
Arrested Development (Netflix) 15
Better Call Saul 10
Black Mirror (Channel 4) 3
Bojack Horseman 12
Bones 18
Breaking Bad 10
Casualty 39 (Since 1996)
Crazy Ex-Girlfriend 18
CSI 22
Days of our Lives 244 (Since 2002)
Dr. Who  13  (Since 1986)
Eastenders  211 (Since 2004)
ER 22
Family Matters 24
Fraser 24
Friends 24
Full House 24
Grey’s Anatomy 23
House of Cards 13
How I Met Your Mother 23
Jane the Virgin 22
Lady Dynamite 12
Law and Order 23
Louie 12
Madmen 12
Master of None 10
Orange is the New Black 13
Passions 246
Peaky Blinders 6
Stranger Things 8
The Andy Griffith Show 31
The Cosby Show 25
The Jeffersons 23
The Path 10
The Sopranos 12
The Wire 12
Three’s Company 22

*Sources for data: Wikipedia, TV.com, IMDB

Hey, you’re awesome! Thanks for reading. Have a thought? Leave a comment.

For more pop culture tidbits and tech thoughts, follow me on Twitter.

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Why Stranger Things Is Awesome: The D&D Dialogue

Why Stranger Things Is Awesome: The D&D Dialogue

There are a million reasons why Stranger Things is awesome. Here’s one of them.

SPOILER ALERT

Things come full circle in the final episode. The boys are playing D&D downstairs. Again, their adventurers are confronted with a monster (this time a Thessalhyrdra, not the Demogorgon). Again, Sam’s hero (Sam the Wise) is the first to move against it. Again, Sam has the option to Fireball the monster.

Pause

Remember what happened last time they were in this situation? At the beginning of the show? Will attempted to Fireball the monster instead of casting Protect to, well, protect Mr. Sam the Wise. He was doing what he thought was best for the team. That original choice to fire the Fireball failed and Will was taken by the Demogorgon, both in the game and eventually IRL.

Unpause.

Instead of casting Protect, Will decides to do what is best for the team and again attempts to Fireball the monster, and…it succeeds. Will refuses to live in fear of the monster. Courage still burns in him. A strong message that we are more than our traumas, our past abuses, our failures. We can come out on the other side of hell and still have the resolve to charge back in. Hallelujah.

But wait, there’s more. I’m going to need some help from Movie Pilot’s Allanah Faherty for this one:

Upon learning that was the final battle, Dustin asks “that’s not it, is it?!” Before Lucas adds “the campaign was way too short.” Dungeon Master Mike is outraged at the anger, crying “it was 10 hours!” A clear jibe from the creators, the Duffer brothers, directly to the audience bemoaning the eight-episode length of Season 1. However the boys then list a whole bunch of loose ends from their campaign that Mike failed to tidy up:

  • The lost knight
  • The proud princess
  • The weird flowers in the cave

While it might be easy to just think these three things exist only in the boys’ campaign, just like the comment about the game length, these loose ends also apply to the whole series. Firstly we have the lost knight, which clearly applies to Chief Hopper. At the end of Episode 8 Hopper is seen willingly getting into a car with the government agents after he comes out of the hospital — what do they want from him? Are they working together?

Next we have the proud princess who could only apply to the other big loose end: Eleven.

Given the fact that the monster’s face opens up like the petals of a flower, the mention of “the weird flowers in the cave” has to refer to the monster and the egg inside its lair.

Super smart writing that contains meta-information commenting on the series within a diegetic frame of a D&D game while using the language of  D&D.

That level of attention to detail is consistent throughout whole freaking show.

Just another reason why Stranger Things is awesome.

Yours,

Brandon

Digital Decentralization and the Future

Digital Decentralization and the Future

 

In the late 19th century, a German boy by the name of Carl carved a mannequin out of a wooden ruler. For reasons he could not explain, he kept the wooden idol in the attic of his family home. For reasons he could not explain, he would periodically deposit small tissue-paper messages next to it, in a secret language that he himself had created.

This, along with his experience with Australian indigenous peoples and schizophrenic patients would eventually lead to Carl Jung’s treaties on collective unconscious: the part of unconscious mind that contains a predisposition to memories and ideas inherited from ancestors.

Flash-forward some 100 years.

I’m currently experiencing one of those great feelings of human consciousness where you start to draw parallels between things you either a)never thought about before or b)barely thought about before. In this case, it’s the internet (a decentralized information platform), bitcoin (a decentralized currency), and Justice of Toren (a fictional decentralized AI). Let me explain.

Decentralization 1: The Internet

My job as a reputation specialist at BrandYourself requires that I do a lot of things with the internet: social media management, content writing, and SEO (that’s “search engine optimization” for the uninitiated out there)–a thing I heard a lot about (but understood little) before I started doing it professionally.

Part and parcel of being a good SEO guy is knowing how the internet works.

I’m not going to get into to many technicalities, due to an ambition to talk about the big picture and my own limited understanding, but to summarize in oh so brief technical terms, the internet does not exist in one computer; it exists in every computer connected to it. These computers all operate on an agreed upon system of code/laws called the internet protocol. Ever wonder where IP address comes from? Ah, ya see it! If you want to read up more on IP, I recommend you check out Investopedia for a basic explanation or ICANN (the Internet Corporation for Assigned Names and Numbers) for a more in depth explanation.

who-runs-the-internet_51e5cb1c47844_w1500

Right now, all you need to know is that the Internet is a decentralized information platform that lives on many different platforms.

BONUS: That’s one of the biggest reasons why it takes a long time to see a shift in search results! Google, Bing, Yahoo–they all have cajillions of computers across the globe that are assigned to combing through and appraising internet information for their corresponding search results pages. Think of giant ripples emanating from a cajillions of source and you’d have a pretty good (child-like-drawing) idea.

Decentralization 2: Bitcoin

One of my clients at BrandYourself is interested in cryptocurrency. Heretofore, I’ve written a number of blogs for her based off of a crash-course of Coindesk, CryptoCoinNews, and Reddit. I understood the basics behind the technology. But only through textureless blog posts and news articles. I didn’t have anything really meaty to sink my teeth into. Because of my growing relationship with the client and my own interest, I yearned for something to so sink into. Knowing that it would slake my curiosity and benefit my work at the same time, I decided to take up a little work-related, side-reading project (something that, to BY’s credit, happens more often than you might think).

From the client’s recommendation, I picked up a copy of Digital Gold by Nathaniel Popper. Full disclosure: I’m only on chapter 4. But from reading the introduction through Chapter 4, I’ve ingested enough to be bemused by the idea of cryptocurrency–Bitcoin to be specific.

digital gold

Bitcoin functions much like the internet. Indeed, it something that exists on the back of the internet–it could not exist without it–for just as the internet does not exist in a single computer and is instead spread throughout cajillions of computers around the world, so is Bitcoin. It’s a decentralized currency that exists according to its own IP, originally coined by the mysterious and recently unmasked Satoshi Nakamoto.

Decentralization 3: Justice of Toren

Justice of Torne is a troop carrier ship (the largest class of ship) in the Raadchai Empire. Each troop carrier ship is name after a god (in this case Toren) and is controlled by an AI that is named something like One Esk (one “air”). This is all according to Ann Leckie’s spellbinding work Ancillary Justice.

I picked this up from the Strand bookstore Kiosk at the southeast corner of Central park at the same time I picked up a copy of Pattern Recognition by William Gibs0n–another book that is coincidentally work related. Through a chain of work conversations, I got pointed to a Tim Feriss/Seth Godin podcast, and through listening to this podcast, I heard the marketing deus Seth Godin recommend a number of books, including Pattern Recognition, for its eye-opening relevance to branding.

Pattern Recognition done, itself full of neat insights on internet culture and the aforementioned topic of branding, I set forth  on my next read, which was looking to be either Ancillary Justice or Digital Gold. Fortuitously, it was both.

Leckie_AncillaryJustice_TP

The main character of Ancillary Justice is the above mentioned AI, One Esk. Technically, One Esk is one aspect of The AI of Justice of Toren. Complicating things more, although One Esk is technically a division of a larger shipboard AI, it has the ability to control “ancillaries”–humans turned into AI hosts or as some characters call them, corpse soldiers. Each one these ancillaries is a “segment” of One Esk.

Have I lost you yet? It’s intricate world-building at its best, i.e. a mind-expanding train of thought. Let me break it down for ya:

AI of Justice of Toren>Various Esks>One Esk>Segments

It’s a real Russian Doll sort of situation.

Full disclosure, I’m only at Chapter 9 (roughly a fifth through the book). But from what I’ve read I can tell you that One Esk is currently stationed in a city on a planet with 20 segments.

To the credit of Ann Leckie, the narration of One Esk is told through a mind-bending present tense from multiple perspectives. What’s it like to exist at multiple places at once? According to Leckie’s work, it’s no longer just a concept reserved for the internet or bitcoin.

In the world that Leckie has envisioned, there is such a thing as decentralized consciousness.

“I followed Lieutenant Awn home. And watched inside the temple, and overlooked the people criscrossing the plaza as they always did…On the edge of the Fore-Temple water, a tenneager from the upper city sat sullen and listless.”

In addition to exploring consciousness from multiple horizontal perspectives, Leckie takes things a step further and toys with the vertical aspects of it too (in addition to taking an innovative look at gender). To look at it from a plant-metaphor angle: the segments are the leaves, One Esk is the stem, and the Justice of Toren is the roots. Have you ever thought about levels of consciousness in such a way before?

decentralized

There is “I” the segment, “I” the Esk, “I” the unit (One Esk), and “I” the ship. And, I’m sure, hundreds of other I’s in-between. Impressively, Leckie alternates this near omniscience with another version of One Esk, a One Esk is that is only one segment; a segment separated from its whole.

What’s more, we’re starting to see emanations of this in our own AI capabilities.

I’ll hold it right there. If you’ve read this far, perhaps you can see the silhouette of decentralization now and the trace of where it may take us in the future.

Carl Jung had the collective unconscious. We might one day have the decentralized consciousness.

Time Traveling Book Recommendations

Time Traveling Book Recommendations

Years ago I was on a bus with my friend Lisa. She was reading a book by Margaret Atwood called the Blind Assassin. I knew of Margaret Atwood from reading The Handmaid’s Tale in high school. I had also read some of her poetry.

At some point during our bus trip, Lisa finished the Blind Assassin and cried. “It’s so sad,” she said. “It’s just so sad.”

At that moment, several years ago–though I trusted the taste of my friend and though I had respect for Margaret Atwood–I had no desire to read The Blind Assassin.

“I’m not really in the mood for more feminist fiction.” I told myself. During that time of my life I was victim to a diet composed predominately of white male authors.

Years pass. Margaret Atwood releases more books. There is the Oryx and Krake (Oryk and Crates? Crate and Barrel?) book that’s making splashes around the country. O and K turns into a trilogy. I hear people talk about it, but nope, I wasn’t interested.

I have the memory of reading The Handmaid’s Tale in high school nestled on the kitchen floor of a vacation rental I was staying at with my friend’s family. I had the memory of being, me the white male (how noble and sensitive of me!) being racked to desolation by the oppressed female protagonist’s story. As I type this, I think I might have read it twice. But in no way was I interested in reading any more Atwood. Not then.

More time passes by.

I graduate from University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. I work as a bartender and haphazard actor in the area. I do comedy shows. I move to New York. I stroll through Central Park with my buddy Jules one day. We see a Strand (i.e. legendary independent bookstore whose home is in lower Manhattan) kiosk set up on the southern tip of the park. We had never seen it before. A Strand kiosk this far north! We peruse through books. We buy each other books. It was a good memory.

Weeks pass by.

I’m walking with my girlfriend around Central Park. Even though it’s out of our way and we’re both tired and it’s cold and the sensible thing is to go to a train and go back home, I become hell-bent on finding that kiosk and perusing it with her. The walk goes on and on and on. Maybe it’s not there anymore? Maybe it’s already closed? We see it in the the distance. At last. She and I look at books. I see The Blind Assassin. My girlfriend is looking for a good piece of fiction. Lisa’s recommendation lingers in my mind. I tell her to pick up the Atwood and she does.

Days and weeks.

My gf finally gets around to cracking open The Blind Assassin. She loses interest around page 36.

(My girlfriend catches me writing the above sentence. “What! Are you writing about me?” I explain that I’m not using her real name and it’s not about her as much as it’s about how book recommendations can time travel. I explain Lisa and the bus. She smiles. “It only took me having zero interest in it for you to pick it up. I love that.” Later as she reads a draft of this post she says, “I love how you say, ‘I love that.’ I hope the reader really gets what I mean when I say that…”)

Days and weeks.

I finish whatever I’m reading. I have no idea what this Blind Assassin book is about. But I don’t feel like buying a book and something stirs in my head compelling me to crack open the pages. I do.

Thirty-six pages in and I’m less than impressed. I still have no idea what the story is about. I’m confused by the post-modern collage of newspaper articles, diary entries, and excerpts from the book-within-the-book also called The Blind Assassin.

Next day I get to page 60. Something compels me to keep reading. Before long I’m at page 120. And I love it.

I’m currently a little after page 330 (half-way through) and I still love it. It stirs my imagination and really pushes me to consider what it’s like to live in someone else’s skin while reconsidering what it’s like to live in mine. To me, The Blind Assassin is doing what any good book does at a given period of time.

Years ago was not the time.

Just like the quality of a movie or play fluctuates every time you see it (dat’s a no-brainer!), so does the quality of a book. But there are certain times when a book or movie or play will call to you and it is can only be good.

Today I went for a walk with Jules. We talked about book recommendations that travel through time. Four years ago he bought his friend Into Thin Air an account of the 1996 Mt. Everest Expedition. His friend just got around to reading it a few weeks ago. He didn’t realize the author had been on the expedition. He thought it was just some journalism bullshit. He couldn’t imagine how great it would be.

Something to keep in mind when recommending books or anything to others: Even if they don’t read your book then, they just might do it eventually and when they do, it will be the perfect time and they will thank you.