I like to think of myself as a reader – someone who devours books. But sometimes our self image isn’t always accurate.
So it’s with a little chagrin that I say I’ve been binge-watching – and enjoying – Brooklyn Nine-Nine. I’ve watched about twelve episodes over the last week. They’re fun, and easy to relax to.
I don’t like that the show has its sexist moments, and that it largely centres on a white, goofy teenager. It’s not brilliant, and it won’t be remembered a few decades from now. But it’s fun to watch.
The other thing I’ve been enjoying is The Night Circus. It’s a good read. At times the strange, ethereal air that the writer’s working so hard on gets a little frustrating. It tends to meander a little, too; after a strong introduction, the sense of urgency in the plot fizzles, and it feels as though as the reader, I’m the only one interested in the narrative question (who will win out of two dueling magicians?), and that for the author and characters, it’s just a convenient excuse to explore new scenery. But for all that, it’s a good read, and I’m enjoying it.