In Which I Just Might Start a Letterwriting Campaign to Save Harry Hole from an Untimely Demise

Sometimes when people come to our house for the first time, they remark upon how many DVDs we have. We have a lot of them, and they are all stored under the TV, which sits on a rustic antique bookshelf. It’s not an HDTV, and we don’t have a Blu-Ray. We also don’t have cable– and this is why we have so many DVDs. Mr. Spine and I tend to watch a lot of Netflix and Hulu, and for our daughter we buy DVDs– less now that we can watch Netflix on the TV instead of just the laptop. The Collection’s growth rate has slowed.

And sometimes when people remark upon The Collection I feel a pang of shame. Are they saying we have too many? No, I tell myself. After all, I’m not going into peoples’ homes and telling them they are wasting their money on that exorbitant cable plan.

If only I could collect things like this, too. But for now it's teapots and egg cups. And DVDs.

For the past few days, my little girl has been sick with a fever. She’s been a tiny lump on the couch. She won’t move from it. She shuts the window shades if the kitten has opened them to glare at a bird. (On a side note, I think poor Thor may have gotten a little too overzealous glaring at birds, because he had a bloody nose the other day and has been acting a bit off. I think the poor thing bonked his head. He gets really into that birdwatching business.) She’s been watching nothing but PBS Kids and our video collection for three days now. That’s a lot of DVDs. You know how it is when you have a fever. You aren’t good for anything but sleeping and sipping at water and every follicle on your head has a mind of its own and hurts like the dickens.

So, come into my house anytime and feel free to remark upon her video collection. I’m glad it’s there.

In other news, I’ve been tippity tapping away at my mystery. I’m at 26% of my intended goal! I write a chapter, then type it up, rewriting a bit as I go. In odd moments, I might start the next chapter, or when things are beginning to get complicated or look like they will go pear shaped in five minutes, I wait until I’ve refreshed my memory and ironed out wrinkles by typing it up. Right now, I’m almost done typing Chapter 4, and Chapter 5 is one third written. Now that I think about it, if I’m a quarter done at four chapters, I should expect roughly sixteen chapters. That sounds about right, right? To be honest, I picked my page goal randomly. It sounded like the right amount. See, Greeks really don’t have to measure. Not even with pages!

Best laptop ever. Solar powered.

As for reading, I’ve been devouring Nesbø novels like candy corn. If you don’t like candy corn like I do, maybe I should compare it to crack. Last night, I finished up The Leopard, which is the latest one for us in the US. Abroad, they’ve already got their mitts on Phantom, and I heard (actually heard, yes, in an interview with the author here) the series will end soon. It sounded as though Nesbø wants to kill Harry Hole off.

No, don’t do it, Hr Nesbø! While I do enjoy watching him suffer for the noir thrill of it, I do ultimately want Harry Hole to find happiness. Or at least peace. Can he only achieve that through death? Sigh. Will I have to forgo the last in the series? I always did regret reading Agatha Christie’s Curtain. In fact, I’m pretty sure I gave it away so that I wouldn’t read it again. And of course, Conan Doyle tried and failed at killing off Sherlock Holmes. Granted, the latter two have a completely different tone. It’s harder to kill those types of detectives, I think, because the death of the detective would cause a break in tone. The author would be doing it out of spite, and it calls for a serious break in tone that feels false. The tone would not feel false if Nesbø did indeed kill off Harry, but I just don’t want him to. Letter writing campaign, anyone? Let’s annoy a Norwegian today.

So that is my life right now. Typing, tending a sick kid, typing some more, reading myself to sleep. Could be worse. Life is a rather solitary endeavor, isn’t it?


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