This fucking show, man. I swear, every time I write a bad review (like last week), it comes back with an episode packed to the gills with reminders as to what it was I loved so much about American Horror Story in the first place.
“Man hands on misery to man/It deepens like a coastal shelf/ Get out as early as you can/And don’t have any kids yourself”. If there’s any quote that sums up the latest season of the inimitable Bojack Horseman, it’s the final lines of Philip Larkin’s This Be The Verse – an indictment of inherited misery and the way pain echoes down generations of a single family. But more than that, season four of everyone’s favourite depressive show about an ex-sitcom star who’s more horse than man (or is he more man than a horse?) is a tirade against historical misogyny – and how it, above all else, has inflicted horrendous physical and emotional pain on three generations of the lead character’s family. Spoilers for season four ahead.
First off, thank you so much to everyone who read the first recap last week and offered their support, comments, or interpretations and experiences with Carrie; it’s awesome to know that people are as excited about this as I am, and it’s been really informative to hear other people’s takes on the character of Carrie and the book in general. Without further ado, on with the next recap!
All is not well in American suburbia. But when is it ever?
So, a few things.
The housekeeping first: yes, I am recapping a new book and yes, I haven’t yet finished Fifty Shades Freed. But, as I’m sure you can tell from my last couple of recaps, my heart hasn’t really been in those awful books for a while. I really can’t overstate how depressing, boring, and truly terrible EL James’ books are and frankly, I need a little bit of a break before I get over the final hump. I will go back to them (hopefully by the start of 2018), but for now, I need something new, something that I don’t actively dread doing. If you want to catch up on my other Fifty Shades recaps, you can find them here. More importantly, let’s get on to the fun stuff: my new recapping adventure.
When was the last time you were really scared?
I was watching the latest episode of American Horror Story, season seven’s premier titled Election Night, taking in the sight of Evan Peters pissing generously into a rapidly-ballooning condom that dominates the entire frame while gruntingly singing a bastardised verison of “La Cucaracha” and let out a sigh. Well, we’re back.
Yes, this blog has been a little quiet recently and I’m making a concentrated effort to get more stuff up in the next few weeks. And, much as I’ve been avoiding this shit for a long time, but there’s no escaping it: it’s time for another installment of Fifty Shades Freed, as this interminable book thunders on into eternity. The neverending fucking story, but this time without the false advertising.
So, I’m recently back from a holiday in Spain to visit my parents:
You’re jealous, I can tell
And a new milestone hit in my great quit smoking diaries. Which is, well, that I unquit for a little bit.
Earlier today, Adam Wingard, the director of Netflix’s cinematic Death Note adaptation, tweeted this:
