Kara Dennison's Blog, page 12

On MST3K, Anxiety, and the Power of Familiarity

 

Autumn and winter are my favorite seasons. I like the cold. (Specifically, I like being cold and getting warm.) I like the full stretch of autumn and winter holidays. I like the cold-seasons aesthetic. Heck, I even kind of like it getting dark early. But the cold months don't love me back, which is an absolute bastard of a way to be. Like a cheese-lover being lactose intolerant, but instead of gas and stomach pains you lie awake at night wondering if you'll die alone.
I do all the things one needs to do. I get out socially. I get sunlight and take extra vitamin D. I don't drink caffeine after a certain time of day. I say my prayers (which is functionally as close as my ADHD will let me get to meditating or mindfulness). My therapy regimen is none of your business but it exists. And, in a nearly century-old house that's built for a family of four but currently contains me and two guinea pigs, I put on sounds at night. Because if the intrusive thoughts don't get me, the creaking and settling will.
In the darkest of dark months, things just stop working. ASMR used to do it, but now the noises just make me nervous. I used to listen to a British comedy radio station, which had the bonus of running the audio of a Blackadder right around the time I woke up, but somehow even the mix of The Navy Lark and random witcoms wasn't doing it anymore. Then one night I switched the Roku to the little unused TV in my bedroom (my PS4 handles streaming in the living room). The intent was to watch a bit of before-bed Space: 1999, but I remembered that Shout! Factory exists. So I did an experiment: I popped on their 24-hour MST3K channel, put the volume just where I could hear it, and rolled over to go to sleep.
And baby, did I sleep through the night.

Mystery Science Theater 3000 inhabits a weird place in the television zeitgeist. Either you don't know anything about it, or it's an indelible part of your life. There's basically no in between. I remember my uncle bringing over VHS recordings of it from Comedy Central, back when my family decided cable wasn't worth it anymore. And, in fairness, back when I only understood maybe about a third of the jokes. Didn't matter. Robots funny.
I remember going to a live show of Cinematic Titanic one night, and Frank Conniff commented on how MSTies are pretty much the most dedicated fans ever. We were viewers who were dedicated to a show whose every episode was two hours long, and which had been off the air for (then) more than a decade. And with the exception of the first season (not counting KTMA) and the occasional stray Mike episode, I've seen just about all of it. It's all floating around in the brain somewhere. Granted, some episodes stick out more than others ("The Human Duplicators," "Mitchell," and that one "Hamlet" are pretty much always surface level for me). But even those few I haven't seen feel familiar. Because each host has a style of delivery and it's reliable and comforting. And maybe that's what's up.

Because let's be real. Anxiety, or at least my anxiety, is a fear of the unknown. Ruminating on uncertainty. Will I have to have surgery on my leg? How much of it will my insurance cover? How much will I owe on my taxes this year? Will that wind outside blow a hole in my roof? Is that creaking sound in the stairwell just the house settling or an intruder? Is this weird feeling in my chest a panic attack or a heart attack? Are the people I care about safe? And so on, and so on. Not knowing is terrifying, which I know is true of humans in general, but it's a problem for me to the point of causing insomnia. And that's not cool.
So maybe that's what's going on. The introduction of something that's so deeply ingrained in my life brings some certainty to the late-night hours. Even if that certainty is in the form of three people talking over terrible movies.
It's not a fix for everything, of course. It won't take away the uncertainty of the future (or the present). But I think there's something to the idea, no matter how old you are, of finding something that unwavering and reliable to turn to when life won't offer you that security. Maybe it's a favorite book or comic series, or a favorite long-form anime. Maybe it's a certain band whose every song you know. Maybe it's the same as it is for me: knowing that Tom Servo will have a song ready, that Mike will do that "toot-tee-toot" thing whenever silly slow music plays, that certain words just sound funnier in Joel's voice.

We're coming out the other side of winter, and the days are getting longer again. And before long I won't be awake for nearly as many dark hours, and this will potentially be less of a problem 'til winter kicks in again. And in fairness, one TV show didn't "fix" my anxiety. But it lets me experience certainty - weird, unhinged certainty, but certainty nonetheless - for a few hours a night. Not the sort of reflection I expected to have when my uncle brought over that tape of First Spaceship on Venus when I was nine years old, but I've learned not to question a good thing.

Mystery Science Theater 3000 Fixed My Anxiety (kind of)

 

Autumn and winter are my favorite seasons. I like the cold. (Specifically, I like being cold and getting warm.) I like the full stretch of autumn and winter holidays. I like the cold-seasons aesthetic. Heck, I even kind of like it getting dark early. But the cold months don't love me back, which is an absolute bastard of a way to be. Like a cheese-lover being lactose intolerant, but instead of gas and stomach pains you lie awake at night wondering if you'll die alone.
I do all the things one needs to do. I get out socially. I get sunlight and take extra vitamin D. I don't drink caffeine after a certain time of day. I say my prayers (which is functionally as close as my ADHD will let me get to meditating or mindfulness). My therapy regimen is none of your business but it exists. And, in a nearly century-old house that's built for a family of four but currently contains me and two guinea pigs, I put on sounds at night. Because if the intrusive thoughts don't get me, the creaking and settling will.
In the darkest of dark months, things just stop working. ASMR used to do it, but now the noises just make me nervous. I used to listen to a British comedy radio station, which had the bonus of running the audio of a Blackadder right around the time I woke up, but somehow even the mix of The Navy Lark and random witcoms wasn't doing it anymore. Then one night I switched the Roku to the little unused TV in my bedroom (my PS4 handles streaming in the living room). The intent was to watch a bit of before-bed Space: 1999, but I remembered that Shout! Factory exists. So I did an experiment: I popped on their 24-hour MST3K channel, put the volume just where I could hear it, and rolled over to go to sleep.
And baby, did I sleep through the night.

Mystery Science Theater 3000 inhabits a weird place in the television zeitgeist. Either you don't know anything about it, or it's an indelible part of your life. There's basically no in between. I remember my uncle bringing over VHS recordings of it from Comedy Central, back when my family decided cable wasn't worth it anymore. And, in fairness, back when I only understood maybe about a third of the jokes. Didn't matter. Robots funny.
I remember going to a live show of Cinematic Titanic one night, and Frank Conniff commented on how MSTies are pretty much the most dedicated fans ever. We were viewers who were dedicated to a show whose every episode was two hours long, and which had been off the air for (then) more than a decade. And with the exception of the first season (not counting KTMA) and the occasional stray Mike episode, I've seen just about all of it. It's all floating around in the brain somewhere. Granted, some episodes stick out more than others ("The Human Duplicators," "Mitchell," and that one "Hamlet" are pretty much always surface level for me). But even those few I haven't seen feel familiar. Because each host has a style of delivery and it's reliable and comforting. And maybe that's what's up.

Because let's be real. Anxiety, or at least my anxiety, is a fear of the unknown. Ruminating on uncertainty. Will I have to have surgery on my leg? How much of it will my insurance cover? How much will I owe on my taxes this year? Will that wind outside blow a hole in my roof? Is that creaking sound in the stairwell just the house settling or an intruder? Is this weird feeling in my chest a panic attack or a heart attack? Are the people I care about safe? And so on, and so on. Not knowing is terrifying, which I know is true of humans in general, but it's a problem for me to the point of causing insomnia. And that's not cool.
So maybe that's what's going on. The introduction of something that's so deeply ingrained in my life brings some certainty to the late-night hours. Even if that certainty is in the form of three people talking over terrible movies.
It's not a fix for everything, of course. It won't take away the uncertainty of the future (or the present). But I think there's something to the idea, no matter how old you are, of finding something that unwavering and reliable to turn to when life won't offer you that security. Maybe it's a favorite book or comic series, or a favorite long-form anime. Maybe it's a certain band whose every song you know. Maybe it's the same as it is for me: knowing that Tom Servo will have a song ready, that Mike will do that "toot-tee-toot" thing whenever silly slow music plays, that certain words just sound funnier in Joel's voice.

We're coming out the other side of winter, and the days are getting longer again. And before long I won't be awake for nearly as many dark hours, and this will potentially be less of a problem 'til winter kicks in again. And in fairness, one TV show didn't "fix" my anxiety. But it lets me experience certainty - weird, unhinged certainty, but certainty nonetheless - for a few hours a night. Not the sort of reflection I expected to have when my uncle brought over that tape of First Spaceship on Venus when I was nine years old, but I've learned not to question a good thing.

Get in the Robot - My First Time Playing Armour Astir: Advent

 

If you're new here, quick update: I love love love giant robot anime. I worked on Discotek's DVD release of Mazinger Z. My fellow Crunchyroll newsroom writers save mecha anime news for me in the morning. (And yes, I'm aware of Brave Bang Bravern. We'll talk about that another time.) So when my Sunday game finished our year-and-a-bit D&D campaign and the DM wanted to try a new system, and happened to mention this one, I was hype.
Two sessions in? Still hype. And I will absolutely revisit my experiences with this at the end of the campaign, but I want to give a beginner's view of what it's like to play and, if you're a hopeless mecha addict like me, how much it will vibe for you.
To start, Armour Astir: Advent  is a Powered by the Apocalypse game. (Think Blades in the Dark or Monster of the Week: playbooks fitted to genre archetypes, story progression over hit point counting, and d6es only.) PBTA games have their share of ups and downs, and while the system is constructed in a way that eases party/game setup and story flow, your mileage may vary based on your goals in tabletop games. I've found myself warming to this style of game over time as I get more acclimated to it.
The one issue I've had with other PBTA games is that sometimes, the thing you want to do doesn't have a clear stat attached to it, and thus there's a lot of hemming and hawing over how to account for the dice-rolling aspect of your next Move. In Armour Astir, at least for Channelers (more on that in a second), there's literally a move and a stat for that: "Weave Magic," i.e. "anything that goes above and beyond everything on your sheet." Which I think is pretty great.

The game is inspired by a mishmash of robot anime, fantasy anime, and fantasy in general. Relevant titles are listed in the source book, but if you're anything like me, you'll likely catch the references in the names of Moves and the descriptions of things overall. And the writers really know their stuff: the tropes run deep, and players are encouraged to play with what they mean from a character standpoint.
Case in point, the Impostor playbook (i.e. the one I'm playing). This one jumped out at me for two reasons. For one, it's the most rooted in the hot-blooded shouty delinquent super robot pilot vibe I love so much. For another, "Impostor" refers to the fact that these characters channel magic not through study or faith or some other aptitude, but through body modifications. Players are encouraged to approach this through the lens of disability or dysphoria. And as someone who spent half my life dealing with debilitating chronic pain, I chose the former. The book says that your augmentation does not make your life more difficult unless you want it to, and for the purposes of this character I want it to.
Without going into a whole long diatribe on my character and what makes her tick, I will say that my experience building an Armour Astir character has been much more in-depth than any other PBTA games. Interrogating the deeper meaning of a certain play style is something I try to do with all my characters, but this is the first time a book has ever outright said "Please go there."
Similarly, each playbook comes with a unique Gravity trigger. Gravity is a stat that measures the relationship between you and other characters, be they PCs or NPCs. This could be romance, friendship, uneasy alliances, a desire to absolutely murder each other, etc. Besides being a great way to measure and keep tabs on the pacing of story threads, I really appreciate that it's a concrete way to tell the GM, "I would like to focus on the chemistry between these two characters, please." I've been gaming for years and I still do a bad job sometimes of voicing when I want to chase down a plot thread.



More things I love, in quick succession:There's plenty for non-Channelers to do. Our party is made up of two Channelers and two Support, and I've been enjoying seeing how their abilities and contributions to the party build out. Nowhere do the Support characters feel at all lesser or underpowered.One of my favorite things about PBTA games is that you're rewarded for enduring difficulties in the game. (XP for failure in Monster of the Week, XP simply for having to make Desperate rolls in Blades in the Dark.) In Armour Astir, failing rolls stack into something called Spotlight. You can use those to advance, or you can spend six Spotlight in the moment to do something really cool. As a serial Bad Roller, I appreciate anything made to soften the blow of RNG failure at table. Not to mention it fits into the hot-blooded eleventh hour action I love so much.While I didn't see it listed under the inspirations, I get a lot of Super Robot Wars vibes off this game. (Which is to be expected.) This feels especially evident in the Impostor playbook, where your Channel stat increases as you take hits, to the point that it behooves you to save your big badass moves for when you're about to take a knee.One last thing that deserves its own space: I appreciate that this game acknowledges more interesting risks than simply death. As someone who delved deeper into gaming as a way to get back into the world after a death in the family, and as someone who does this largely to exercise the creative part of my brain and get back to storytelling consistently, I'm not a fan of player character death being solely at the whim of the dice. (If others are, that's fine, but I believe players and DMs should decide this before playing.)
In Armour Astir, when your character Bites the Dust, they're out of the sortie. Based on the next set of rolls, they might recover unexpectedly well, or they might carry that defeat with them in some way. To me, that's so much more interesting and compelling then saying "Too bad you failed at rolling, your character's story is just done now." That's the main reason I've warmed to PBTA games recently: instead of it being a Session 0 discussion, defeat as transformative rather than subtractive is baked directly into the system.
As I said, I'm only two sessions in. We're all learning together as we go, figuring out how everything works. One of our players is even trying out a playbook from the expansion. When we're further in, or perhaps at the end of the campaign, I intend to report back with more.
Check out Armour Astir: Advent, eight addition playbooks in Armour Astir: Encore, and romance expansion Amor Astir at Briar Sovereign's itchi.io page!

January 2024 Book Reviews

 

THE LAST DRAGON KING Leia StoneScore: B-Available now
A last-minute December 2023 release creeping into 2024, The Last Dragon King is the first book in Leia Stone's new Kings of Avalier YA fantasy series. And while it does leave off on a hook to Stone's next book, it is perfectly sufficient as a standalone. As for whether it's a solid read — that all comes down to what you're looking for.
Our heroine is Arwen, a human with (as far as she knows) the scantest of dragon magic lineage in her blood. She lives her life as a hunter in a small town, long ignored by the kingdom's Dragon King. But now the King is looking for a new wife: one with enough inherent magic to give birth to an heir without dying. Despite her desire to find a boy to call her own, Arwen is not especially interested in becoming queen, and initially believes she's not even in the running. But she soon discovers that her lineage is not at all what she thought. Not only is she a top-tier candidate, but the magic lying dormant inside her could potentially be catastrophic. Now if only she hadn't gone and fallen in love with her royal suitor.
While The Last Dragon King has interesting characters and a unique fantasy setting with potential for interesting expansion, much of its drama rests on the characters' sheer inability to communicate. Also, while it's refreshing to see a female protagonist who doesn't have to choose between married life and military badassery, it's a little disconcerting how quickly any other interesting female character falls under one blade or another along her road to achieving that.
While the story itself has interesting threads and the prose is solid, The Last Dragon King is a very by-the-numbers YA fantasy. The promise of an overarching story of kings of many types and the upstart heroines who love them, combined with an interesting setting, is enough to make this an interesting casual read.

SECONDHAND SPACEMAN Rachel AukesScore: BAvailable February 5
Initially slated for release at year's beginning, Secondhand Spaceman has been pushed forward to next month. But since it's been read for this blog post, we're going for it. Just bear in mind that this will be available next month, with a book to follow every month after.
Our protagonist is Frank Woods, a run-of-the-mill college kid whose biggest aspiration is to become a truck driver. But that all goes away when he's abducted by an alien and press-ganged into a gig as an intergalactic repo man. Or, to be more precise, his deadbeat dad willed the job to him. With a lifetime of debt to pay off and an inherited ship (and its deadpan sarcastic AI) to get him there, Frank will have to navigate alien encounters, red tape, system failures, and GOD themselves to get his job done.
Secondhand Spaceman has a relatively fun premise and wastes no time getting down to business, but the story itself appears to fluctuate between what it does best and what it wants to do. At its peaks, Frank is coming to terms simultaneously with the trauma of his youth and the terror of his new situation, discovering more about himself and with the potential to become a really capable, really unlikely hero. In its troughs, it leans into the sort of Guardians of the Galaxy quippy referential humor that's hit-or-miss even at the best of times. The books are engaging, intriguing, and even legitimately funny when the one-liners are relaxed and Frank is allowed to interact with his new reality in an honest way. Should future books embrace that, this series has some genuine promise.

SHORES OF A NEW HORIZON: A TERRAFORMING MARS NOVEL M Darusha WehmScore: AAvailable now
In the Terraforming Mars  board game, players take on the roles of corporations using their respective resources to... well... terraform Mars. In Aconyte's spinoff series, now three books strong, we get closer to the people on the ground: the workers, scientists, researchers, and everyday people caught in the crossfire. In Shores of a New Horizon, one of those people is Zammi Kaspar: a researcher whose life was torn apart as a child, and who reunites with his missing sister in unusual circumstances.
As a contaminated ice asteroid threatens to imperil the Red Planet's water supply, new and unpleasant facts come to light. And some of those facts implicate the siblings' surviving parent and his company. With the stench of potential corporate corruption in the air, old familial wounds reopened, and the locals' livelihoods at stake, the tenuously-reunited family must go outside the norm (and the law) to ensure the safety of Mars.
Shores of a New Horizon may appears to be veering toward a by-the-numbers corporate intrigue piece, but the true resolution of the story is so much more satisfying. At its heart, it's a story about family and trust, twisted together with tiny details that make this near-future world feel as real and lived-in as a small town. And, as with all the best tie-in books, it can stand on its own without any knowledge of the source material.

TOM CLANCY'S THE DIVISION: HUNTED Thomas ParrottScore: A-Available now
The Operation: Crossroads saga, which began in Tom Clancy's The Division: Compromised, continues. Maira Kanhai has survived, and it would seem that she has new allies. As she recovers and gets back on her feet, she helps her rescuers with a high-end programming project while receiving excellent care and physical therapy. And, perhaps, something more.
But not everything is as it seems. Maira is missing time, things seem a little too good, and she has the creeping sensation that her new friends aren't telling her everything. Meanwhile, her Division allies (including Brenda Wells) receive shocking intel: Maira has gone rogue. Assembling a specialized cell, Brenda goes out to find Maira and discover why she's working against her own team.
Full disclosure, I read and enjoyed The Division: Compromised. So I came in with some foreknowledge of Thomas Parrott's story and characters. But even if you don't have that foreknowledge yourself, Hunted gives plenty of footholds to enter into this universe. Nor do you need to be a Clancy fan to dig into this story. There's admittedly a lot going on here — Maira's half of the story, ironically, flows more cohesively than Brenda's — but the result is a satisfying blend of action, drama, and psychological thrilller.

THE LAST IMMORTAL: A NOVEL Natalie GibsonScore: CAvailable January 23
Young Ramillia wakes up in an asylum with no memory of brutally murdering her parents with her bare hands. Of course there are a lot of things she doesn't remember about her childhood. But when Sir Julian takes her under his wing as benefactor and fiancé, a whole new world opens up to her: one of power, deceit, and (most of all) the promise of eternal life.
Ramillia is a "Carrier": a rare genetic mutation of humans gifted with strength and immortality, rarer still for being female. Despite being inducted into this powerful species's society, however, she is still left largely in the dark about what they are and how they operate. As she learns more about her nature, from the relationship between Carriers and Incola to her own affinity for violence to the other version of herself living in her mind, she begins to see the broader world for what it is. And, in the book's final act, she sets about destroying what she finds.
The Last Immortal is a difficult read for many reasons. Thematically, it is thick with abuse (both physical and sexual), treats pretty much nothing as off-limits, and fades to black less and less as the story goes on. While initially this does serve the theme, the third act of the book seems to fall apart, and not in a way that feels at all tied to Ramillia's own character journey. There's a marked difference between the character rushing things and the writer rushing things. And while the first part felt slow and the second felt perfectly paced, the third felt as though it was written to a deadline... and not a diegetic, character-driven deadline. Burning questions are either left unanswered or addressed in haste — not in the way that the rest of the book explored gaslighting and disinformation, nor even in a way that leans into Ramillia's own collapsing psyche, but in an extra-textual way that feels almost as though an indelible upper word count is being approached. From metaphors for feminine power in a masculine world to a psychic octopus and scrambled brains, it feels like a rug-pull. Should you choose to read it, I recommend leaving off at the end of part 2.

Resolutions for 2024

 

I can't remember where I read this, because I can rarely remember where I read anything these days. Information just sort of amasses itself in one's head and an anecdote will roll out, anonymized, as needed. The point is, someone at some point said it's best not to attempt to make new year's resolutions. Or, at least, to make broader and more forgiving ones. Which I can understand. If you say you're gonna go to the gym three times a week or get up at whatever time of day your favorite business success podcast says the Pros do, and you fail to do so once, you're kind of more likely to give up. It doesn't matter how many times you're told that tomorrow is a chance to start again — the more rigid the resolution, the more dire the slip feels.

A part of me wants to make those rigid resolutions even so. Things like "Write x words per day," "Get x stories published," "Actually clean the whole house and start renovating." All things I want to be doing, all things that will feel crushing if I slip. To those who can set and meet resolutions like that: nice. You absolutely deserve to take pride in that.

But as much as every day is a new start, something about the turn of the calendar makes a girl want to make some kind of promise to herself. I'll try to do gentler promises, though. Maybe.

Value My Own Writing

I say I'll write, and then I fail to. Don't get me wrong, if there's a hard deadline, that story falls right the hell out. It's the ADHD. But if there's not a hard deadline, I tend to file the words that come out of my mind creatively behind everything else: behind news and features for other websites, behind my advising and editing work that helps other people write, hell, behind reading or paying bills or literally anything else. I know there's a part of my brain that insists that, if it's creative and it's mine, it's lesser.

Of course I know where that comes from; or rather, whom that comes from. In conversation with trusted friends, I could list off exactly whose voices those judgment calls come out in. Simply saying "I will write this many words a day or else" does not make those judgment calls go away.

Perhaps baby steps for this resolution, then: learning to admit that what I write perhaps has value. It's not world-changing. It's not revolutionary. But it doesn't have to be. Some of the creative work I hold nearest and dearest from others isn't going to usher in a new era of thought. It just hits right when it finds me. And there's no reason to assume my own words can't do that for someone else.

Leave Home More

Which is not to say I never leave home. I do. I have regular social things I go to. I visit friends. But when it comes to shopping, running errands, even just stepping outside, I tend to not want to. And that absolutely came with lockdown, followed directly by being in a position where I was looking after someone at the end of his life.

I value having a home I can afford. I like that there's room here for me and whoever. But I live not far from a nice historic area where I used to love to take walks. I used to make errand days into little outings with rewards. I admit that I've pulled kind of far inward, and maybe I've taken longer than is strictly necessary to push back against that. There are lovely things and people out there to see.

Cut Myself a Break

I'm sure I give off major former honor student energy to anyone who knows me. I know I'm not the only one who feels that way a lot: that I always have to be at 100% or I'm not doing enough, that if something goes wrong in my periphery there are good odds it's somehow my fault. The more I get to know people out in the world, the more I learn that that's an extremely relatable feeling. And guys, we can't all be the ones to blame for everything. We can't all be burning the candle at both ends.

If I could suggest one resolution to everyone, it would be for us all to cut ourselves a little slack. Yeah, there are some things you simply can't back down on. Responsibilities exist. And sometimes we legitimately do make mistakes that need correcting. But I realize that if I held anyone to the same standards to which I hold myself, they'd (rightly) really dislike me for it.

Maybe your friend's discomfort in your presence has nothing to do with you. Maybe you didn't misspeak as terribly as you think you did. Maybe your presence was actually appreciated when you hung out with your friends and you didn't talk too much and make a fool of yourself. And by "you" I mean me. But also you, if that resonates for you.

Goals are great. I have goals. But I also know that the majority of my aspirations take luck, timing, and potentially the say-so of someone who isn't me. I can't resolve that 2024 will finally be the year I land this or that gig I've been wanting for so many years, because that's not fully on me. But I can start by cutting myself a break. And for the new year, I hope you can do the same for you.

TEA REVIEW: Chapters Tea Holiday Winter Box

 

I have become, frankly, infatuated with Chapters Tea — as you've probably seen on my various blog posts and social media. This small business creates tea (and now coffee!) blends inspired by your favorite books, authors, and literary vibes. And I've yet to find a tea from Chapters that I don't love.
For their first festive season in business, they launched their Holiday Winter Box. While it's sold out (which is great news for them!), some of its selections are still available. I got to try all three new seasonal flavors. The short verdict is that, once again, everything's fantastic. But that's hardly surprising. Let's take a closer look at each. And if you choose to buy anything from the site, make sure to use my code KARAD15 for 15% off your purchase at checkout!
Note: I am a Chapters Tea & Coffee affiliate. While I may receive a percentage commission for any purchases made through these links, I purchased this box myself and am offering my honest review.

Magical Library Butterbrew
Magical Library Butterbrew is not listed as a limited-edition, and boy am I glad of that. Inspired by magical libraries where wizards hone their spellcraft, this black tea is full of butterscotch flavor. It smells delightful in the package and tastes even better steeped. In addition to the tea itself, this blend has sunflower, jasmine, and calendula petals in the mix — making it very pretty to look at and infusing the tea with flavor naturally.
One thing I've noticed about Chapters teas in general is that, no matter how strong you steep them, they always taste relatively smooth. I steep my tea "too much" as a rule because I like it strong, but that never ruins the flavor. I also tend to take it without milk or sugar; however, this blend in particular tastes like it would make an excellent tea latte. This one has quickly become my second-favorite tea in the Chapters catalogue, just behind Poet's Study (their super-strong dark academia-inspired Earl Grey).

Gingerbread Bookshop
This is one of the two limited-edition holiday teas; however, as of the time of this writing, it's still available. And if you like warm gingerbread-y things, I can't recommend it enough. Just because it's not my favorite of the bunch doesn't mean Gingerbread Bookshop isn't really good. It reminds me (as the package art implies) of Christmas shopping trips, treating myself to a book and some cookies after I'd finished buying things for everyone else.
The blend of cinnamon, cocoa beans, star anise, and ginger does a great job mimicking the spicy coziness of good gingerbread. I was a little hesitant about the inclusion of anise because I'm not huge on licorice-tasting things; however, it blends into the rest of the flavoring nicely.

Candy Cane Forest
Sadly, this limited-edition tea is now sold out. However, I would be remiss in not reviewing it, as it's a really lovely one provided you like candy canes. If you don't, give this one a miss — because it mimics the flavor to a tee. But if (like me) you love 'em, keep your fingers crossed for a reissue next year.
In addition to the inclusion of natural peppermint, this tea includes crushed-up candy cane bits. It's another one that looks lovely in the tin (the first tin for a Chapters product!), and it's delicious steeped once all the candy cane bits have melted.
While Chapters has assembled some of its regular flavors into summer and autumn gift boxes, the Holiday Winter Box is their first foray into limited-edition flavors and markedly seasonal offerings. Seeing that it's sold out already is a good sign. I'd love to see Chapters explore other themed boxes with more seasonal flavors and vibes, and potentially other limited-edition blends and art.
If you're still looking for some last-minute gifts, check out Chapters Tea & Coffee for literary-inspired teas, coffees, and accessories. And save yourself a little money at checkout with code KARAD15 for 15% off!

Doctor Who Is Entering Its Pink Jacket Era

 

NOTE: This post contains spoilers for the entirety of the Doctor Who 60th anniversary specials, including and especially "The Giggle."
There are dozens upon dozens of ways to talk about where Doctor Who has ended up after "The Giggle." The commencement of the RTD2 era brings with it a plethora of bold moves and statements—many, if not most, of which will be better explored by other people. However, a major theme of the third and final special feels like exactly my wheelhouse: the subject of story, of canon, of lore, and (most importantly) of Play.
Amidst rolling back the Metacrisis, recontextualizing the Timeless Child, and introducing bi-generation (and what Russell T Davies terms the "Doctorverse" as seen in Tales of the TARDIS), he made another major statement about where the show stands and where it will likely be going. In short, we seem to be getting the high sign that it's time to put down the canon welders and the slide rules... at least for a bit. It appears the RTD2 era will be an era less bound by the show's own rules of logic and more open to writerly whims.
Or, to put it in the parlance of my other favorite decades-long show, it's going into its Pink Jacket era.


A brief history of Lupin the 3rd will have to wait for another day. Suffice to say, it is a very long-running anime franchise with its own unique eras and stock characters. Each creative mind to touch the series, from Hayao Miyazaki to Godzilla Minus One director Takashi Yamazaki, puts their own unique spin on it. And each era of the TV series is denoted stylistically by a new color palette for our protagonist, the freewheeling grandson of Arsène Lupin. In films and TV specials, those different-colored jackets have become shorthand for what "flavor" of Lupin we can expect.
1984 brought Lupin the 3rd Part III, with a more cartoonish color palette as well as more cartoonish plots. (Think legitimately Looney Tunes ideas, even more than usual.) Since then, Pink Jacket has become a less evoked Lupin style, but an unmistakable one. In 2018's Lupin the 3rd Part V, which contained interstitial episodes paying tribute to each era, the Pink Jacket tribute episode was about Lupin trying to make himself dumber to crack a safe that would only open if a brainwave-reading machine determined you were dumb enough. (Spoiler: it ended with him gorging on fish to make himself so smart that the IQ meter Pac-Manned around.)
Part III was not "bad" (as it was misremembered before we had the luxury of streaming) so much as it was silly, unhinged, and joyfully committed to being that way. And with what we've seen in "The Giggle," I think we're being invited into a similar era for Doctor Who.

The choice to bring back the Toymaker was an interesting and fan-pleasing one. He appeared in one televised story, 1966's "The Celestial Toymaker," played by Michael Gough. And while he's been in and around the books and comics and Big Finish audios, the Toymaker's appearance in "The Giggle" is his first return to the televised series — done with an impeccable balance of menace and camp that only Neil Patrick Harris can dish out. As before, he is a powerful otherworldly being: one beholden only to the rules of fair play, who delights in reducing other powerful beings to playthings.
As we saw in "Wild Blue Yonder," the Doctor appears to summon the Toymaker by invoking a bit of nonsense at the edge of the universe: attempting to thwart the Not-Doctor and Not-Donna with a superstition. With this silly (and frankly Doctor-ly) approach, the Toymaker makes his way into our world, and all bets are off. People are puppets, bullets are rose petals, the Master is a gold tooth in a mouth of too many teeth... it's all a bit wild.
Throughout the episode, the Doctor attempts to explain the Toymaker's MO by stating that there are actually three states of being: Order, Chaos, and Play. Play is not governed by Order or Chaos, and is not beholden to normal rules. It's what makes the Toymaker so dangerous... but, as the Doctor points out, what could also potentially make him so wonderful.
While the Toymaker is naturally not going to change his ways, his state of Play influences the episode. We see our first bi-generation: a Time Lord myth almost certainly brought into reality by the Toymaker's anything-goes mentality. (Note how overjoyed he is at the prospect of bi-generating the Doctor ad infinitum so he can take his time mowing them down.) We see a long-overdue accessibility ramp manifest for the TARDIS, just because. In one of his first acts as incumbent Doctor, Ncuti Gatwa (still in his pants) hits the TARDIS with a big comedy mallet to double it. He implies that the Toymaker's state of Play may be in effect for just long enough for him to gain "his" prize... but I personally believe the Toymaker's influence will last a bit longer.
And I believe we are being invited to rejoice in this influence.

Doctor Who fans are unmatched in their ability to canon-weld. I've seen this in action as someone who's been writing on the ragged edges of canon for a handful of years now, introducing a WWE branch to Faction Paradox and letting Iris Wildthyme finally enter the City of the Saved. One thing I learned when writing across these expanded universes is that the harder you try to account for everything, the sadder you'll be, and the harder a time you'll have telling the story you want to tell.
In short: if a callback is fun, it's worth it. If trolling through decades of audios, comics, and books to ensure all the corners are tucked in makes it so you can't write... don't do that. The lovely thing about a rights holder is they'll let you know what you can and can't do, and they will rarely limit you as hard as your own dive through the franchise's history will. And as the Whoniverse gets bigger and fuller, we're hitting capacity. There will come a time when you can't add to it for fear of inadvertently "decanonizing" something in the eyes of a subsection of the fans.
While I don't always agree with RTD's creative choices (Martha deserved way more credit and I stewed about Donna's exit for 13 years), I will defend to the death his aptitude for building and future-proofing a show. Someone with his eye for showrunning will have noticed that after the Time War, the Hybrid, the Timeless Child, and the Flux, the series's lore is approaching critical mass... even without counting the expanded universe. In order to continue to tell stories that appeal to old and new fans, something has to give. We need to be allowed to put down the strict rules for a minute and simply play.
The Toymaker, as we're reminded, will always abide by the oldest and most basic rules of play: the rules that keep things fair and fun. He may be a bastard and a half, but he'll never actually cheat. And I believe that's our ruleset for the RTD2 era: guidelines to make sure everyone has a good time, but anything goes otherwise.
Davies has already said that he's looking to go more fantasy than sci-fi in the new season, and the early previews of "The Church on Ruby Road" show that we're getting a pirate ship full of sky goblins. And while I believe the bi-generation represents many powerful things (which I may talk about some other day), I think it also represents the future of the show, at least for now: allowing the heaviness of the past to be put aside to rest and process, and looking forward with joy and curiosity.
Doctor Who is going to get sillier, weirder, and more fantastical than ever. And for as much as I've loved previous seasons, I have a feeling this sea change will be the exact refresh the series needs.

December 2023 Book Reviews

 

This month, I'm doing things a little differently for book reviews—because it's the gift-giving season. I've got some traditional prose books, but I also have some more kitchen-centric readables to review. Thanks as always to the many publishers who make their books and other print projects available for review, so I can share them with you!
Incidentally, if you're buying presents for a book-loving friend, consider grabbing something from Chapters Tea & Coffee! They offer premium coffees and teas inspired by classic works of literature, as well as bookmarks and tea-making accessories. There are even limited-edition seasonal teas that would make great stocking stuffers. Use my code KARAD15 to get 15% off your order!

Do or Die: A Zombicide Novel
by Josh Reynolds

Surely there's enough zombie fiction in the world now, right? Perhaps not. Cooperative "zombie havoc" boardgame Zombicide puts you in charge of a zombie apocalypse survivor, and various expansion packs let you fine-tune the setting. Just as the game can be anywhere and anywhen, so can the Zombicide tie-in novels from Aconyte. The last one I read was a gritty sci-fi fable; this one takes us to Florida, and turns everything we think we know about the zombie genre on its head.
Westlake is one of a varied group of survivors, including a chef, a fed, and a luchador. Westlake himself is the strangest of all: he's a zombie hanging on to the final shreds of his humanity, hoping to set his friends up to thrive in his impending absence. But when they travel to the Everglades to track down a drug cartel cache, there are bigger problems waiting for them. Humans aren't the only things that can get zombified—and the only things more deadly than Florida's undead beasts are the locals who worship them.

Do or Die is utterly unhinged in the best of ways. From a sympathetic zombie survivor to cannibalistic cultists to a giant turtle, you never know what you're going to see next. Josh Reynolds, as usual, takes fictional elements that really should work together and makes them absolutely sing.

Do or Die is now on sale.

Valdemar (The Founding of Valdemar Book 3)
by Mercedes Lackey

Some people grew up on Mercedes Lackey's Valdemar epics. Others, like me, are learning on the fly. For those who don't know, the storied high fantasy setting is watched over by Heralds: people specially Chosen by this world's horse-like Companions to watch over the kingdom and its people. Lackey's latest book, simply titled Valdemar, concludes the Founding of Valdemar trilogy—bringing to life historical events heard only in passing throughout the series's long run.

We join the kingdom's first king just before his (reluctant) coronation, and much of the book is spent handling the concerns of a burgeoning kingdom at an easy pace. But this isn't simply a story of overseeing trade and education. Kordas is aware that this new kingdom needs guidance, and his prayers for that guidance are answered in the form of the first Companions. However, their wondrous arrival comes at a cost—and that cost is tied to a looming threat that could bring the kingdom down just as it's being born.

As someone relatively new to these books, I can't say how they'll read for a long-time fan. However, as someone just wading into the stories, I found it (and last month's anthology Anything with Nothing) an intriguing and alluring start. Even without the decades of homework others have done, I could tell that Rothas Sunsinger and Lythe Shadowdancer (two major characters in the story) are likely the stuff of legend to long-time readers. The pacing is interesting, keeping a relatively steady and productive gait throughout the kingdom's construction and ramping up in its final chapter. I would recommend starting from the beginning of the trilogy, naturally; but for fantasy fans, it's a fun read.

Valdemar goes on sale December 26.

The Unofficial Home Alone Cookbook
by Bryton Taylor

Say what you will about what counts as a Christmas movie... Home Alone is a given. The classic 1990 film is beloved by people of all ages (especially my generation), and anything that can bring back that nostalgia makes for a good time. And this new cookbook pulls inspiration from throughout the movie to offer up a variety of dishes, snacks, and drinks for you and your family.
If you're looking for recipes you simply cannot find anywhere else, this is (with the exception of the mixed drinks section) not that cookbook. Many of the recipes in here are fairly common, even standard. Which, for the novelty of the book, is fine. The existence of these specific recipes in one place, photographed and compiled in this way, is the actual point. And it makes for a great gift for that friend in your life who's a big fan of the movie.
With or without the movie connections, though, it's a nice family cookbook. The majority of the recipes are (unsurprisingly) made to be kid-pleasing, and can be made with the younger members of your family. That in and of itself makes it giftworthy.
The Unofficial Home Alone Cookbook is now available.

Winter Cheers and Whiskey Cocktail Cards A-Z
by Adams Media

The last two installments in this month's reviews are a little unconventional. Rather than being books, they're sets of cards. And those of you who have played D&D with me or gone to conventions with me know that I love a good drink—so this duo is a sure-fine win for me.
The two boxed decks are functionally similar, but flavored differently. They're both decks of 75 drink recipe cards, bearing a lovely photograph of a cocktail on one side and a full recipe on the back. Winter Cheers is sorted by its primary spirit, and Whiskey Cocktail Cards A-Z is sorted... well, alphabetically. Don't know anything about bartending? Don't worry. Each box comes with its own bartender's guide, explaining everything from bartending tools to the nuances of the liquors you'll be using to how much a "dash" actually is.

As much as I love a good whiskey, Winter Cheers is my favorite of the two. It's part of Adams Media's Seasonal Cocktail collection, preceded by Summer Sips. Maybe it's because I'm a sucker for festive wintry things. Or maybe it's because my friends' taste in alcohol is varied and I love being able to navigate straight to the sort of thing they'd like. But this gorgeous set feels made for me.
Which is not to say the Whiskey set is anything to sneeze at. Part of the Cocktail Recipe Deck collection (which includes a Tequila deck with Rum and Vodka to follow), this offers a deeper dive into the nuances of the different types of whiskey and how to make them taste their best. I'm especially fond of the historical tidbits about classic cocktails, as well as the sheer range from vintage to modern to creative new recipes.
Winter Cheers and Whiskey Cocktail Cards A-Z are both on sale now.

Bone-Healing and the Like

 

It's been almost six months since I broke my ankle and that sucks. It's not the worst it could be, and that sucks less. But after a couple months in an air cast, it wasn't healing. So my doctor hooked me up with a little take-home ultrasound machine that, according to many, can help with making bones knit back together.
The reasoning behind why the fracture isn't healing is, I assume, down to the surgery I had about ten years ago. Thanks to Stage IV endometriosis, I had to have a hysterectomy and oophorectomy. I knew at the time that early-onset osteoporosis would be a potential issue, but I had no plans to fall off my porch and snap my ankle, so beyond taking extra calcium I wasn't worried about it.
(The orthopedist and his various assistants always ask if I'm a smoker, which I'm not. That's the more mundane reason for bones not healing.)
So I've been using this little machine for going on two months. With three months programmed into it.
So how does it work? I'm not fully sure. Something about ultrasound.


The machine comes in a zip-up case with all sorts of trinket. The machine itself, which has a curly cord (like an old phone) with a magnet on the end. There's also a velcro strap with a port that the magnet fits in, and a bottle of ultrasound gel. You strap the velcro thing around the broken limb, with the port centered over the fracture. You put gel on the magnet, pop it in the port so the magnet is right over the fracture (making contact with the skin), and snap it shut. Then you turn the machine on and it zaps your bone with ultrasound waves for 20 minutes.

The idea is that you do this around the same time every day, and the ultrasound waves joggle your bone cells and make 'em grow. It works for about 80% of patients if you use it every day like you're supposed to and keep those bone cells joggled.

I do mine first thing in the morning before I get out of bed. Make a cup of tea in the little copper kettle on my nightstand, blast my leg with science, and listen to a podcast. (Usually Mom Can't Cook or Who Shat on the Floor at My Wedding in case you're curious what a cozy early morning in the Dennison household is like.) It doesn't really feel like much of anything, which is probably for the best.

Sadly, 60 days in, there's minimal growth across the fracture. Some. Not none. But minimal. There's every possibility it's human error and I'm just placing the magnet wrong (and I double checked with the orthopedist and had him point to the exact spot where the magnet needs to be so I can target it better because "where the pain is" is kinda broad). It's also possible I'm one of the unlucky 20% for whom it doesn't work.

So what now? I've started wearing the aircast again when I'm at home, pretty much constantly, so I don't (deliberately or accidentally) flex it funny. I'm being more persnickety about making sure the magnet is exactly on top of the fracture during the morning bone-zapping. I know for a fact this has done the trick for at least one friend, so I'm on deck to keep giving it a go if it means potentially avoiding surgery.

I've had five surgeries so far in this life, not counting wisdom teeth. That's not as many as lots of people, but I'm kind of feeling done.

All things considered, I share this because I'm fascinated by the science. Because maybe it will still have helped me in the end. Because maybe it might help someone else, or hell, it might jog a cool sci-fi idea. It's kind of neat to know that we can use little magic machines to potentially heal bones. Very Star Trek. As they say, we live in the future. Sometimes that doesn't suck.

November 2023 Book Reviews

As I mentioned recently, going forward I plan to bundle book reviews into a monthly post. It feels more comfortable (kind of like my Sci-Fi Magazine days), and it gives me more space to talk about other things. Normally these will be at the front of the month, but since I made this decision late in November and still had several November ARCs to work through, here we are.Doyle's World: Lost and Found
Daniel Friedman, MD and Eugene Friedman, MD
Score: A+
Available nowRegardless of Arthur Conan Doyle's feelings on the matter, Sherlock Holmes holds a special place in English literature. He's a fascinating character open to a variety of unique interpretations, and exploring his influences and inspirations takes as deep and detailed a dive as any the master sleuth himself would have engaged in.
The son-and-father writing team have launched a hyper-detailed deep dive of Doyle's life, from his school days to his medical practice to his more paranormal flights of fancy, all in the pursuit of understanding from whence Holmes springs. The majority of this study is well thought-out, intriguing, and edifying. This heavy analysis leads up to the crown jewel of the work: a pair of short stories believed to be by Doyle under a pen name, with preceding chapters offering ample forensic proof of their potential as his handiwork.
A few of the deeper analyses (particularly in the Treasure Island chapter) can feel like well-intentioned reaches, at least to a layperson. But those brief moments aside, there's no denying this is one of most comprehensive and conscientiously-written books on Doyle's life and inspiration.

Powerless
Lauren Roberts
Score: B+
Available nowOn the surface, Powerless absolutely feels like something we've read a lot, especially in recent years. And, in fairness, it is—especially when you add that the "terrible thing" in question was an all-encompassing plague whose existence has become a grim presence in everyone's vernacular. But there's enough in this intro to the Powerless trilogy to keep you reading, even if you've seen this all before.
After the Plague, the people of the kingdom of Ilya find themselves with a variety of superhuman powers: the Elite. And then there are the Ordinary: people with no powers whatsoever. To preserve the purity of the magically gifted elite, the king has decreed that all Ordinaries should be banished or executed. That would include thief Paedyn Gray, had she not been trained to pose as a wielder of psychic powers. This gets her by until the arrival of the Purging Trials, in which Elites fight to the death to showcase their powers... and after a run-in with Prince Kai, Paedyn finds herself participating.
Now Paedyn is spinning many plates. She has to keep her Ordinary status secret, survive the Trials, and balance a burgeoning love triangle between herself and the king's two sons. But this year's Trials are special—partly because a rebellion is brewing, and party because Kai is taking part. And his role in the royal family demands that he hunt and kill people just like Paedyn.
Equal parts Hunger Games, Talentless Nana, and shonen fighting manga, Powerless is an interesting mix. It is heavy on YA fantasy tropes, which is either a deal-maker or a deal-breaker—no in between. If you're fine with a tried-and-true formula and aren't looking for anything new, there's plenty of magic, swordplay, and romance to keep you riveted.

The Bootlegger's Dance
Rosemary Jones
Score: A
Available nowThis latest installment in Aconyte's Arkham Horror book series ties back to the author's previous work in the line, but foreknowledge is not necessary to enjoy this new story. And if you've ever thought Christmas ought to be a bit more eldritch, this is the book for you.
Raquel Malone Gutierrez's life has changed after illness, causing her to lose her hearing. She's moved on to help her Aunt Nova at the Diamond Dog, a dance hall famous for its jazz music—as well as more illicit business. But bootlegging isn't the scariest thing hiding under the surface of Raquel's new life. Sometimes, her bulky hearing aid picks up the voice of a stranger: Paul, a man lost in time, seemingly attracted to different times and places by a certain festive tune. As Christmas Eve approaches, Raquel takes it upon herself to find a way to save him.
Even with the knowledge that previous books would likely offer more context, this book stood well on its own. Most impressively of all, Jones handles two narratives—one moving ever-forward, one constantly unstuck in time—while leaving the reader with only the intended amount of confusion. Our bewildered time traveler, despite much of his story being a blur, is still just as sympathetic and interesting as Raquel herself. And, in the spirit of scary stories for Christmas, this makes a perfect holiday read.

Betting on You
Lynn Painter
Score: B+
Available November 28Bailey is a Type A personality. She needs to see rules followed, she deconstructs her pizza before eating it, and she'd prefer her soda half-regular, half-diet. Charlie is... aggressively not these things. Fortunately, when the two are forced to sit next to each other on a flight from Fairbanks to Omaha, they both know they'll never have to see each other again. Until, three years later, they do.
Fresh off a breakup, the now-17-year-old Bailey runs into Charlie at her new job. But now he's more tolerable, even becoming something of a confidant as the pair are fellow children of divorce. It starts when Charlie floats a bet on whether Bailey's bestie will cheat with a coworker, expanding into Charlie becoming Bailey's fake boyfriend to frighten off her mom's new boyfriend. But a ski trip to Colorado changes everything, and soon they've gone from fake PDA to rile up the potential new dad to catching feelings for each other.
With a narrative that skips between Bailey and Charlie, we see both sides of the teen romance blossom. While Bailey fully (but reluctantly) embraces her growing feelings, Charlie—convinced that friendships between guys and girls never work and even romantic partners will always leave him—battles internally over which extreme to go to.
For teen readers, Betting on You is a deceptively competent look at friendship, romance, and the changing face of blended families. The book is a little rickety on its judgment call re: friendship between boys and girls, although it makes one or two last-minute attempts at saying something a little more solid on that front. Older readers may squirm a little at the (expected) lack of clear communication between the young protagonists; however, for its intended demographic, it's a fun and adorable read.