#the strength the impact the flavour has not settled into the story

[aiam-maianaise]

Dungeon Meshi Spoilers/episode 11 + manga discussion.

The fact that the dungeon meshi anime skipped over namaris and kikis and kakas convo about reviving is still so frustrating to me ahhhhhh

Ive been watching peoples episode reactions and they arent feeling the tension and fear that those in the manga felt from having the rules set up about what can and cannot be done and them having the reveal of falins skull, thus making people think the whole journey was for naught, only to have the rules subverted/violatedwith marcilles reveal that she can ressurrect falin. (And also adding impact for marcile being like

Like some people are like oh shes gonna be ressurrected cause they dont know the rules. They arent feeling as much worry/ devastation as they could have.

They didnt have that dwelling dread that those who learnt the rules had. Nor the oh fuck moment of the skull reveal.

Like they might still add the convo but it hasnt had time to ferment over a few episodes/chapters like it could have. The impact will be greatly lessened.

—-

God the fact that we have to wait a week for the next episode pain pain pain

[fictionfromafar]

Back From The Dead by Heidi Amsinck

Back From The Dead

Heidi Amsinck

Muswell Press

Publication Date: 18 April 2024

It was shortly after the Covid Lockdown when I first picked up My Name is Jensen, the first of Heidi Amsinck's novels that would become the first in the Jensen Thriller series. While many of the Nordic Noir novels that I read are written by authors living in their respective countries which are then translated into English, this novel stood out as Amsinck is a Dane living in London and writing her novel in English. The story was a standout in other ways too, portraying the difficulties encountered by journalist Jensen (she has forbidden use of her first name) as she investigates the death of several homeless men on the return to her home city of Copenhagen. Creating not simply a complex main protagonist, but also a supporting cast including Jensen's on - off married lover Detective Inspector Henrik Jungersen, the novel was primed to become a series. Pleasingly Heidi Amsinck's debut became a success not just in the UK, but also in Denmark and since in several other European countries.

Somehow I appeared to miss the follow up story, 2022's The Girl in the Photo yet I do feel that this offers me a chance to opine on the strength of Back From The Dead as a standalone novel as well as part of a series. Although the story does recall events and reintroduce characters from the earlier books gradually from outset, I do believe that many readers would soon adapt to Jensen without further background information. As we encounter Jensen in Back From The Dead she appears to be reasonably settled by her own standards, in a new relationship and while there are cost cutting measures occurring at her newspaper, Jensen appears to be in favour. By contrast Jungersen's marriage is on shaky ground and while a planned trip to Italy offers the chance to spend some well earned time with his family, the discovery of a headless corpse in Copenhagen's harbour could potentially put that at risk - but equally might the detective's own reoccurring thoughts of Jensen.

In contrast to the snowy conditions of her debut, Copenhagen is experiencing a June heatwave when Jensen hears some concerning news about a friend of her's who has apparently disappeared. When her initial investigations reach a dead end she reluctantly contacts Henrik Jungersen for help. It soon appears more than likely that his body could well be that of her friend. Yet far more is at play than either of them realise and the repercussions of their involvement will deeply impact each of the main characters' professional and personal lives.

With short chapters often alternating between the two key characters, the book compels you to continue reading and there are some twists along the way, some of which I found more surprising than others. Back From The Dead will certainly find appeal with many crime fiction readers and also features some traits of Scandinavian crime fiction which many will feel comfortable with - successful capitalists are rarely good people, to name a familiar one. I found this a strong addition to the Jensen Thriller series, although the one aspect I might have liked more of would have been a greater flavour of the city of Copenhagen; which I did feel was more strongly felt in the debut. I do have to concede though that this is may well not be so much a factor for other crime readers. The ending leaves little doubt that the series will continue and I look forward to future developments in Jensen's story.

Many thanks to Muswell Press for an advance copy of Back From The Dead and to Anne Cater of Random Things Tours for inclusion on the blog tour. Look out for other reviews of this novel on the blog tour poster as shown below:

A Missing person … a headless corpse … Jensen is on the case. June, and as Copenhagen swelters under record temperatures, a headless corpse surfaces in the murky harbour, landing a new case on the desk of DI Henrik Jungersen, just as his holiday is about to start. Elsewhere in the city, Syrian refugee Aziz Almasi, driver to Esben Nørregaard MP has vanished. Fearing a link to shady contacts from his past, Nørregaard appeals to crime reporter Jensen to investigate. Could the body in the harbour be Aziz? Jensen turns to former lover Henrik for help. As events spiral dangerously out of control, they are thrown together once more in the pursuit of evil, in a case more twisted and, more dangerous than they could ever have imagined.

Heidi Amsinck won the Danish Criminal Academy's Debut Award for My Name is Jensen (2021), the first book in a new series featuring Copenhagen reporter sleuth Jensen and her motley crew of helpers. She published her second Jensen novel, The Girl in Photo, in July 2022, with the third due out in February 2024. A journalist by background, Heidi spent many years covering Britain for the Danish press, including a spell as London Correspondent for the broadsheet daily Jyllands-Posten. She has written numerous short stories for BBC Radio 4, such as the three-story sets Danish Noir, Copenhagen Confidential and Copenhagen Curios, all produced by Sweet Talk and featuring in her collection Last Train to Helsingør (2018). Heidi's work has been translated from the original English into Danish, German and Czech.

[authorannpaquette]

Chancen’s Sword

Not all fairies discover their ability early on, some have to wait a little. Chancen was one of them. Here’s a short story (well, short for me anyhow) about how Chancen discovers his personal ability. 

“This is your last training session before you move onto your new positions. Let’s have a few farewell three against one battle.” General Octavian’s stern gaze sweeps over the four young officers who know better than to groan or sigh or say anything other than “Yes, Sir.” The ability to read a situation and react as warranted is what drew the General’s attention to them. That and their skills in strategy, swordplay, and leadership. General Octavian studies each in turn, stopping before the tall, blue haired fairy whose iron gaze camouflages any trepidation at this announcement.

Chancen wishes he could let his shoulders sink under the General’s scrutiny and somehow magically shift his attention onto one of the others. Unable to do either, he settles for a slight shift of his wings. He won’t glance over at Fox, doesn’t want to see those piercing blue eyes bright with anticipation. Despite this, Chancen catches the slightest twitch of Fox’s hand as he fights his impatience to reach for the twin swords strapped to his back. Of course he’s excited. Fox likely wants to go first, second, and third, extending their sparring session until the four of them are nothing but layers of slick, foul smelling sweat covered in fairy forged steel. Fox excels against multiple opponents on the battlefield, thrives on it, actually.

Chancen however…

“Chancen, you’re up first. Fox, Sion, and Perth are, of course, your opponents. One sword Fox.”  General Octavian points at Fox, one sword already in hand with the second halfway out of its sheath. The blade flashes briefly before disappearing into the spider leather it calls home. Fox flashes the General a half apologetic grin.

Chancen licks his lips and nods. He knows full well one can’t improve a shortcoming if one ignores that said shortcoming exists. He doesn’t, however, have to like it. Palms sweating, he delicately clutches the hilt of his sword and pulls it free of its sheath. Wings twitch against his back, once, twice, a third time. Chancen forces his shoulders down and his chin up as he joins his opponents within the scuffed lines of the practice circle.

Sion tightens the strap of material holding his long brown hair in a tail at the nape of his neck, smoothes the imaginary loose strands around his ears, and slides his helm on. Once his looks are adjusted to perfection, Sion flashes a greasy smile at his boyhood friend, Perth. Perth adjusts his grip on his two handed sword and nudges Sion with his elbow.

Chancen fights the urge to sneer at their obvious delight in taking him on first. A practice run for them, no more, no less. Not that Chancen doesn’t make for a formidable opponent. Oh no, not one of that pair is a match for him alone. Together, however, they fight with the same rotten, mulch for brains mind. And they’re good at it too.

Fox casually saunters over to Sion’s right, deliberately standing farther than necessary. Sion and Perth likely won’t turn on him under General Octavian’s watchful eye, but it seems Fox isn’t willing to take any chances. Especially with the news they received this morning.

We’ll see whose sneering after Fox pounds the two of them under his boot.

The thought of Fox standing proudly with one boot on their wings coaxes a tight grin through the tension on Chancen’s face. He rolls his shoulders down and back before adjusting his stance, his sword ready to face whichever opponent strikes first.

“Keep the rules in mind. No flying during the training and stay on the training grounds once you begin. Oh, and try not to maim or kill each other.” General Octavian stands back with his sword held casually in one hand, ready to step in should anyone take the game too far.

Perth grins coldly at the warning.

That General Octavian felt it necessary to throw in that last bit makes it damn near impossible for Chancen to ease any of the tension building at the base of his neck. He shifts from one foot to the other checking his balance all the while fervently hoping the headache he’s about to give himself will be worth it. Though, no matter the outcome of this match, Tryssa will likely scold him and force one of her nastier flavoured concoctions down his throat, the ones she reserves for the particularly dense idiots who have nothing better to do than run around hurting themselves all day.  

Time enough to think about his soon-to-be mate’s anger late. Chancen’s three opponents share a quick look and circle in three different directions. This effectively divides his attention in four ways, one for each opponent and a fourth to keep a keen watch on his surroundings. A sudden dip in the ground or protruding root has ended these matches early in the past. His best chance was to keep the nearby tree to his back, preventing them from approaching in that direction.

They simply stare at him for the longest moment, waiting to see if he was foolish enough to attack first.

Yeah right, and lose the only defensible position on this training ground.

Sion lunges forward aiming his sword low, obviously impatient for what is likely his last opportunity to injure Chancen and claim it as an accident. Chancen brushes it aside with ease, dancing left as another blade strikes for his arm. Perth steps out of range before Chancen can retaliate, a cruel smile painted on his features.

They continue to taunt him with their blades, a sideswipe here, a lunge there, each strike hoping to dislodge Chancen from his somewhat secure position. Sweat beads on his forehead, soaking the thin pad protecting his skin from the fairy-forged steel of his helm. The wind from his movements cools the pad even as his skin heats it, creating a strange focus point for his frustration. For the moment, his opponents continue to work individually, each prodding at his fraying temper, each waiting for Chancen to make a mistake.

His temper has also lost him matches in the past.

There’s a break in the fighting, nothing more than half a breath as Scion, Perth, and Fox share a quick glance.

Hell, they’re about to rush him.

Fox leaps forward as if in response to his thoughts. Their swords meet with a sharp clang, not the sweet sound of two lovingly honed weapons meeting in song, but the scraping sound of steel grinding against steel. Chancen grunts as he deflects Fox’s weapon again and again, each strike increasing in intensity.

They are best friends, brothers even, but Fox hates to lose.

With a snarl, Sion and Perth rush in to join Fox. In a desperate move to stop three swords in one swoop, Chancen holds his blade horizontally and braces his palm against the flat surface of his sword. His feet slide against the earth with the force of the impact. A trickle of sweat escapes his forehead to travel down the length of his nose and cling to the skin between his nostrils. A quick huff of breath dislodges the droplet from its chosen perch. What a thing to worry about at a time like this! With a strength born of desperation, Chancen pushes his opponents back enough to throw a kick to Fox’s midsection, temporarily removing him from the fray.

Sion and Perth immediately fill the space Fox vacates with a flurry of swords. More than a few of the strikes hit their marks with dull thunks against his armor, thrusts and swings Chancen figures he is better off absorbing than expending the energy required to block.  Perth swings wide. Chancen easily dodges, realizing too late that he fell right into their trap. Sion strikes, locking their swords together in a test of strength, each pushing against the other to gain the extra step, the mental advantage.

“Not today.” Chancen hisses as he releases one hand from the hilt to punch Sion square in the face. Sion falls back in surprise, barely blocking Chancen’s next strike.

Perth senses an opening and lunges. The blow glances across his blade. Too late, Chancen realizes that Fox was back in play

Not only back, but already in motion.

Chancen curses his luck. Curses the General for this three on one training. Curses the sun for rising this day. Skies above! He was so close this time!

A flush rises up his ears, warming them uncomfortably. He loses again.

No. No! Chancen screams incoherently as the slim sword catches the light of the sun on its journey to his ribs. He has never wanted a second sword in his life, has watched Fox struggle early in their training to master the wielding of two blades in battle.

Now, however, he finds himself wishing for a second weapon, for a slim chance to win this matchup instead of simply doing well.

His free hand glows silver as Chancen braces for the impact. The light, unnoticeable by all except the ever vigilant General, elongates to take the form of a sword. Without a second thought, in fact, completely unaware of his actions, Chancen thrusts the blade of the light-forged weapon at Fox.

The blade inserts itself into the space between the finely crafted links protecting Fox’s left side with less effort than cutting into a fresh baked apple. Fox’s momentum comes to a screeching halt. Wide crystal blue eyes stare down at the unexpected weapon. A pale hand reaches up and twitches as if to grasp the sword. He doesn’t of course. They’ve all seen what happens to skin when it comes in contact with this the blade of a silver sword. Fox takes a shuddering breath, a sound louder than the rolling of thunder during a storm, louder than the crashing of waves against a cliff. The beating of Chancen’s heart pounds against his ears. Faster, stronger.  Someone places a hand on his shoulder. Chancen shrugs it off.

Fox’s sword drops from his hand and the world lurches once more into motion. It bounces once, twice, before settling into the dirt. A dirt it should never touch. A dirt unworthy of such a fine weapon. Fox follows the sword down, landing on his knees, his position almost casual, deliberate, as if doing nothing more than scooping his weapon from the earth. Both hands hover over the silver weapon which continues to protrude from its flesh and blood sheath.

Somehow, though he isn’t aware of having moved, Chancen is on his knees, one hand on Fox’s shoulder, the other still clutching the cursed weapon.

“Fox! Fox hold on! Gods above, I’m so sorry!”

Fox grunts, cutting off any further guilty mumblings. His gaze glazes over, eyes rolling towards the back of his head.

“Stay with me now!”

“S’ok.” Fox inhales sharply. “S’ok.”

“Don’t speak, save your energy.” General Octavian commands, one arm supporting Fox.

“Ok, breathing. Got it.” Fox huffs.

It might be an attempt at humor, to lighten Chancen’s despair. Even at a time like this, Fox is unable to think solely of himself. Chancen shakes his head. Fox’s attempts at breathing resemble nothing more than short pants which grow shallower with every passing second. His skin visibly pales, not an easy feat for someone seemingly made of moonlight, yet Fox manages to make even his peppering of freckles practically disappear.

“Healer Lyrissa’s on her way” Someone shouts from above.

A healer is coming. The best healer is coming.

Fox’s eyes roll into the back of his head as if the promise of help gives him permission to let go, and he pitches forward. Both General Octavian and Chancen catch the unconscious man before he fully skewers himself on Chancen’s sword and lay him gently on his back.

Chancen grinds his fist into the ground, mumbling sorry over and over to himself.

“Chancen.”

Tears well up, blurring his vision.

“Chancen.”

A hand firmly grasps his shoulder.

“Oh Gods, what have I done?”

“Chancen, whatever you do, don’t dispel your weapon until Healer Lyrissa tells you to.”

Dispel the weapon? That’s good advice.

“How?”

“Not a moment until I say so!” A tiny blonde fairy lands beside them. Her sharp order snaps Chancen back to himself, at least for a moment. No one disobeys a direct order from Healer Lyrissa, not unless they wish for every salve and tonic to smell and taste like stinkhorn for the rest of their lives.  

“I’m sorry, Lyrissa.”

“I know, Chancen. He’ll be fine. Fox will sleep this off like nothing happened. Give me a moment to get him into a proper healer’s sleep before you dispel the sword.”

Chancen nods and tightens his grip on the hilt of the sword.

“I said dispel,” Creases gather between Lyrissa’s eyes. “Pull it out and you’ll be healing the natural way for the rest of your life!”

Chancen blinks at her harsh tone. “Lyrissa… I don’t know how.” He admits, his voice caught between the horror of stabbing his best friend and the fascination of this new ability.

Lyrissa silently pleads with the General before closing her eyes and placing a hand on Fox’s chest. The blue of a healing aura spreads from the contact and Fox’s shallow breathing relaxes into that of a deep sleep.

“Chancen,” General Octavian speaks softly as to not disturb Lyrissa, “Simply think about it disappearing. Will the sword away.”

Think about it disappearing. What wonderfully simple instructions. Chancen wishes for the sword to vanish, concentrates on holding air instead of a hilt. For the longest moment nothing happens. The hint of a headache forms between his eyes with the force of his concentration. Perhaps the instructions were a bit too simple?

“Go away.” Chancen pleads softly.

The silver weapon shimmers once before fading in a cascade of sparkles which wink out as soon as they touch Fox’s armor. Blood wastes no time in pooling out from the wound, slowly subsiding as Lyrissa seals the gash from the inside out. Color slowly returns to Fox’s cheeks and soon nothing is left of his injury but the impossibly clean cut through the tightly knit chinks of his armor.

Lyrissa lets out a relieved sigh and opens her eyes. “I trust you can get him back to the healer’s wing so we can keep an eye on him until he wakes?”

Chancen swallows hard and nods, not trusting his voice.

“Good, I’ll expect you there shortly.”

He grunts, unable to tear his gaze from his now peacefully resting friend. A nudge from General Octavian is all Chancen needs, a reminder that he still has a job to do. Between himself and the General, they manage to carry Fox to the waiting Lyrissa.

Two full days pass before Fox opens his eyes, ending Chancen’s constant vigil. The healers tried several times to send Chancen off to bed, all except Tryssa. She knows the bond between him and Fox and understands his need to be there when Fox finally wakes.

Chancen’s heart picks up speed. Heat fills his cheeks and crawls up his ears. Fox’s form blurs behind a veil of tears. There are so many things Chancen wants to say, that he’s sorry, that he’ll make it up to Fox somehow. He says nothing, quite aware of the headache which accompanies a healing. Fox groans and covers his eyes a moment before massaging his temples in an effort to dispel the pounding in his skull.

“Nice sword.” Croaks Fox.

The heat on his face crawls down his neck as the shock of Fox’s praise kicks in. Of course Chancen wasn’t expecting Fox to be angry, they’ve seen similar incidents at least twice before, but to praise the weapon that skewered him mid-fight? Chancen simply sits there, his mouth working open and close as if to say something, anything, but the words refuse to come out.

His wings twitch at the ridiculousness of the statement. A chuckle follows shortly after and Chancen is finally able to release his tension in one long, drawn out breath.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Chancen mock punches Fox’s shoulder.

“Though I’d prefer if you just showed me next time.” Fox rubs his ribs as if suffering from phantom pain.

“But how will you know how sharp it is?” Tears return with a vengeance, sliding down his cheeks.

“We’ll ask Sion to test it, how’s that?” Fox pats Chancen’s leg.

Chancen huffs a laugh through the tears. “Sounds like a plan. How do you feel?”

“Tired, hungry. But mostly tired. I think I’ll nap a little longer, ok?” Fox doesn’t wait for an answer. Simply closes his eyes and falls asleep as promptly as only Fox can. A gentle snore fills the silence of the healer’s wing, coaxing a smile onto Chancen’s lips.

Chancen wipes the moisture from his cheeks and stands. It’s high time he gets a little rest himself. He doesn’t quite remember how he manages to get all the way to his bed, only remembers the soft, inviting warmth of his pillow as he closes his eyes and falls into a deep, restful sleep.

[reviewinganything]

Reviewing Shows: Bungou Stray Dogs

I sure watched Bungou Stray dogs! Why did I watch Bungou Stray Dogs? Because, well, It kinda sucks, but in a fascinating way. Or at least in ways that seem like they might be instructive.

The thing about Bungou... the thing about BSD is it has poor tone control. It tries to blend a hyper-real grim mafia story, irreverent comedy, and cool action together. It does not manage this well.

Spoilers ahead, even though spoilers are a fake idea.

So BSD follows a sadboy orphan weretiger (Atsushi Nakajima) who helps out a drowning man (Osamu Dazai), then is in turn helped by the un-drowned man by being a little-bit press-ganged into working for the “Armed Detective Agency,” a para-governmental organization with a rare and valuable permit to operate with use of members’ super powers.

The premise set up in the first two episodes seems to be that we’ll be joining this wacky cast of characters in the detective agency as they solve crimes involving strange powers with their own strange powers. This is not the arc the show winds up following. Instead the show winds up involved with the Port Mafia (why is it the Mafia and not Yakuza anyway?), the local super powered criminal organization, and their open conflict with the detective agency. Then, in the second half of the show, it introduces a foreign criminal organization called the Guild which the Mafia and detective agency team up to fight.

Oh, I haven’t had a chance to mention that the show’s large cast of characters are mostly named for famous authors from the early 20th century. Every character with a super power — simply called abilities — is named after an author, and their ability is named for their most famous work. The allusions have only a superficial relation to their power, and virtually no impact on the themes of the show. The man named Hermin Melville can summon a spectral whale that can be cladded with iron to become a ship, because, well, Moby Dick was a whale, I guess, and the novel takes place on a ship. The character Mark Twain has two doll friends named Huck and Tom who help him to aim guns really good because ??? There isn’t much else to say about the use of these names because it really has little impact on the actual story; it’s just baffling, one set of arbitrary decisions among many.

As I said, BSD tries to blend moments of absurd humor, dark psychological drama, typical shonen action, and the flavour of a mystery or crime procedural. Audacious, though similar things have been done (Cowboy Bebop comes to mind, blending humor, drama, suave action, and ambiguously moral characters with former ties to criminal organizations well), but BSD bungles it.

For example, at the end of episode three Atsushi and two of his detective agency friends have a run in with the main muscle of the mafia, Akutagawa, and all three are impaled, if not also dismembered, by Akutagawa’s generally sharp darkness powers. The show spends a good several minutes emphasizing the desperation and panic Atsushi feels, along with fanning his “I cause nothing but trouble for people around me, and shouldn’t live” flames. This causes him to black out and go were-magical-tiger, fight evenly against Akutagawa for a bit, then their fight is cut short by Dazai’s ability to cancel abilities. Akutagawa calls off the attack, and has an amicable chat with Dazai over the lead in of the cheerful credits tune. Then the next episode reveals that the fatal wounds of Atsushi’s friends can be healed by the detective agency’s doctor, whose ability fully heals people, but only from the brink of death. Her sadistic enjoyment of hurting to heal is played for laughs.

On paper this doesn’t necessarily not work. But the show plays the drama so dead serious, and the humor so absurd it doesn’t come together as a gestalt. It forever feels like disparate elements being stitched together in one high contrast package. The grittiness of the psychological fear section doesn’t mesh with the empowerment and adrenaline of the super-power action (Atsushi heals himself and becomes invulnerable to things like bullets when a weretiger). Trying to portray the mafia as a ruthless villainous organization doesn’t gel with them also calling truce and chatting for a little while before walking off. Trying to raise the stakes and suspense of an action scene doesn’t gel well with a character who can magically and comedically heal people from fatal wounds.

Speaking of the Port Mafia and wanting it both ways, BSD tries to play this morally grey area, and it winds up breaking the show. The Port Mafia are clearly evil — they extort, they assassinate, they’ll nonchalantly kill dozens of innocents in their way —but we spend a good chunk of the show following their members escapades, and we’re clearly supposed to empathize with them.

There’s a hard break from the main story at the beginning of the second half of the show. For four episodes we watch a new character, Oda Sakunoske, as he follows an apparently traitorous member of the mafia. We’re introduced to him drinking in a classy bar with Dazai (back when he was in the mafia). He is the lowest ranked (yes, singularly low ranked, I guess) member of the mafia because he refuses to kill. Then at some point the enemy organization he’s looking into murders five orphans Oda had taken responsibility for after some other mafia killing spree.

Clearly this moment is supposed to make us feel sad, and sympathize with Oda when he makes it a suicidal quest for vengeance. But we spent all of a minute with the children, and Oda is already a man compromised by working with the mafia. Again, on paper there’s space for this sort of morally dark story telling. But the sheer earnestness with which it shows Dazai scream-mourning for the kids by the flaming wreckage is embarrassing. "Do you feel sad for this man? Are you sad five children are dead?” Nah man, not when they’re being used as a cheap emotional beat with 60 seconds of set up, dude.

So then after Oda’s four episode arc we enter the phase of the show where the Guild (all named for western authors) shows up and threatens to take over their city and the mafia and detective agency begrudgingly work together against them. I suppose the theme of Japan working together to fight off foreigners who want to profit off them is fair enough, even if it’s some sort of cultural allegory since they’re all named for authors, but I don’t get what associating half of the Japanese authors with an the bloodthirsty mafia really gets you. It doesn’t seem very well thought out.

The theme the show overtly ends on is one of wanting/needing acceptance of your friends/peers/cohort, and of trying to be a good person even if you’ve killed dozens of people. Which, huh. For the 13 year old whose power was used against her will by the mafia to assassinate 23 people, okay, I can understand where you’re coming from. It was against her will, she’s very young, she deserves a second chance. But when applied to Dazai, a man who apparently willingly worked for the mafia, and quit only because his friend died? Not to mention that Akutagawa, the mafia guy who kills several dozen dudes on screen throughout the show is the one who’s arc is completed when good-guy senpai acknowledges his strength. Uh???

Once again, it offers this sort of retribution with a hopefulness and clarity of intent that feels very out of place for the content of what’s happened. The denouement is a party at the detective agency. It’s all very fun and full of several gags, and it’s a tone that doesn’t fit the themes they’re trying to discuss. It’s like they either don’t trust the viewer to appreciate a show that settles in a mood for a while, or they don’t even know how to control the tone.

Ultimately Bungou Stray Dogs is lesser than the sum of its parts. The animation and music and sound are fine, parts of the plot are fine, some jokes are funny, some drama works, some action is cool, exploring the need for acceptance and of trying to do good despite your past are good, and using a dozen famous authors as loose jumping off point for characters is a bit high-school but fine enough in concept, but the parts wind up detracting from one another. Ah well, it was at least interesting enough for me to watch through.

[thecloudlight-blog]

New Post has been published on Cloudlight

New Post has been published on https://cloudlight.biz/moreish-and-moorish-a-foodie-tour-of-andalucia-2/

Moreish and Moorish: a foodie tour of Andalucía

In the back streets of Seville, out of the solar, faraway from the crowds queuing for the Alcazar and cathedral, my lady friend and I were placed to paintings in a kitchen. It’s now not absolutely everyone’s concept of a holiday, perhaps, but we had been right here for a behind-the-scenes tour of travel Andalucía’s cuisine.

Chop any such,” said David Ciudad, our guide-cum-culinary-trainer

Handing me a bulb of garlic. He turned into displaying us how to make salmorejo, the gazpacho-like Andalucían bloodless soup of tomatoes, garlic, salt, and olive oil; and espinacas con garbanzos, a stew of chickpeas, garlic, cumin, and spinach – Indian flavours which might be a legacy of thgitanos who settled here from Rajasthan in the 7th century and have had a lasting have an impact on the tradition. Both dishes are simple, tasty and cheap.

The kitchen David makes use of for instructions doubles as an artwork gallery, which when we visited had an exhibition of acerbic newspaper cartoons.

For pudding, David took us to look his buddy Marta, a Sevillian singer who now once in a while welcomes travelers to her domestic to devour. She served us a dish of chocolate ice-cream with orange-flavoured olive oil, her personal introduction.

This insider’s view of the place’s culinary delights is a part of a brand new food excursion organized by means of Pura Aventura. The tailormade trips include everything from cooking training to farm visits, assembly connoisseurs along the way. The excursions are targeted at the meals, however, there are alternatives to getting lively too, including a visit to the Doñana countrywide park, an expanse of wetlands and woodland wherein uncommon species which include the Iberian lynx and imperial eagle are determined.

Our cooking lesson complete, we raided a few tapas bars earlier

Than leaving Seville and riding an hour west into Huelva province. We drove up into the hills of the Sierra de Aracena y Los Picos de Aroche herbal park to the Finca La Fronda inn. Set in a cork all right and chestnut forest, and cooled via an upland breeze, the lodge has a satisfactory view over the village of Alájar and strives to be eco-friendly with recycled water, solar strength and a reliance on local food materials. It’s run by way of a family descended from William Wordsworth, and a big portrait of the poet sits inside the living room.

U2’s Joshua Tree Tour Could Inspire Similar Band Reunions For Albums Turning Thirty This Year

Since their iconic album The Joshua Tree turns thirty this 12 months, Bono and U2 are doing an excursion to celebrate the anniversary. They plan to carry out in several towns in North America and Europe, starting in Vancouver on May 12 and finishing in Brussels on August 1.

Fans will possibly experience listening to the band play the songs from that album, consisting of the big hits With or Without You and I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For. Perhaps the celebratory excursion will inspire different British alt-rock bands to reunite to perform in honor of the thirtieth anniversary of comparable amazing albums.

Among the ones unforgettable albums is Louder Than Bombs by means of the Smiths

But a reunion of Johnny Marr and Morrissey could appear extremely not going. Roddy Frame and Aztec Camera would please quite a few fanatics with the aid of traveling to commemorate their album Love, which additionally turns thirty.

Better than any of those, however lesser well-known, changed into The People Who Grinned Themselves To Death by using the Housemartins. Released in 1987, this album showed off the capabilities of the front man P. D. Heaton.

Heaton’s songs are politically charged, despite the fact that his messages are wrapped in a delicious coating of sweet melodies and catchy choruses. The maximum direct political track is the identity tune itself, an obvious condemnation of British those who supported the management at that time.

“The those who grinned themselves to demise, they smiled a lot they did not take a breath,” Heaton sings. “And even if their kids we ravenous all of them idea the Queen turned into charming.”

We’re Not Going Back, song three at the record warns towards the longing for the Britain of the past.

“Do you don’t forget the good vintage days?” Heaton asks rhetorically. “An empty stomach and a tear-stained face. Don’t flip lower back the clocks, it is now not because it changed into.”

The spotlight of the album might be Me and the Farmer, on which the noun within the identity serves as a metaphor for each exploitative boss or government. It is a subject so nicely documented within the lyrics of Woody Guthrie in the United States of 40 years earlier than.

“He’s chopped down sheep, ripped up fields, bullied flocks,

Heaton claims. “And worked his workers proper across the clock. Though God loves his wife a bit, He hates the farmer through and thru.”

You Better Be Doubtful, all, however, closing out the report, gives a caution to the ones in rate. It foresees a rise up against the mistreatment and inequality Heaton perceives within the England of the late eighties.

“The rich up within the citadel have not completed consuming yet, they may throw you a bone or a spat out the stone, however knowing them that is all you will get,” the primary verse reads.

Moorish Spain by means of Richard Fletcher

In Moorish Spain Richard Fletcher achieves a large feat. In a brief book he not most effective chronicles the bones of nearly a millennium of history, but also offers a great deal that provides to our know-how of the social context, both of his chosen generation mainly and of history in preferred.

Moorish Spain does now not aspire to scholarly excellence.

Richard Fletcher’s stated aim is to provide a fuller and greater accurate account of Islamic rule within the Iberian peninsula than the cursory bills supplied in tour books. He also aspires to a remedy of the difficulty that is more correct than the romanticised function of 19th century travelers, money owed that served to create after which perpetuate fantasy.

And paramount in this myth is the obtained opinion that during Moorish al-Andalus all things social were both sweetness and light and pure harmony. Not so, says Fletcher, as he chronicles electricity struggles, intrigues and repeated war. He describes the one-of-a-kind hobbies that ensured that struggle, both small-scale and local or larger-scale and spread across a much broader front, changed into in no way very far away. When competing events felt that they could all advantage from interaction and trade, it changed into, he shows, in large part pragmatism that saved the peace.

His story begins in the early eighth century whilst the primary invasion of what we now call Spain arrived from Morocco. It ends with the expulsion of the Mozarabes within the sixteenth century. In among, in a quite short and accessible e-book, he illustrates how moving alliances and opportunity for brief-time period gain blend with broader perspectives and humanitarian worries to give a patchwork of records. And this patchwork is characterised, exceptionally, through our incapacity to generalise. Throughout, it is the particular that is critical.

In contrast he gives a number of generalised overviews and illustrates how none of them is extra than partially accurate.

In a quick however telling very last bankruptcy he offers a generalisation of his personal to demonstrate how dominant modern ideas can filter records to be able to enhance its very own credibility. Tellingly, he additionally reminds us of the way lots chronicled records relates handiest to the recorded evaluations and lives of a wealthy, sometimes knowledgeable elite. How a great deal element of lifestyles inside the twentieth century USA may be gleaned half a millennium from now if the most effective source turned into a telephone ballot of Hollywood celebrities?

Richard Fletcher’s book consequently transcends its very own problem rely. It affords a rounded, cautiously reconstructed image of a massive swathe of records. In this kind of quick account, of path, he can only gift a especially small amount of detail, however what is there is going an extended manner past what the average reader may ever discover from a shallow vacationer guide. The style is easy however never racy and the content material has a feeling of reliability that shows a 2nd visit might be profitable.

Travel Garment Steamer: Portable Clothes Steamer Buying Guide

A tour garment steamer is a brilliant travel companion for casting off wrinkles from clothing, freshening and sanitizing linens, and plenty more. If you’re a common vacationer, you recognize the ache of inn irons. I was a a hundred% enterprise traveler for decades and I found out quickly that a transportable journey garment steamer became the handiest dependable desire for getting rid of wrinkles from my commercial enterprise apparel.

If you journey a lot, you understand what I’m talking about. Do any of these conditions sound acquainted?

O No iron within the motel room and a whole lot of trouble getting one delivered to the room

o No ironing board with even extra trouble getting one introduced to the room

o An iron that does not get hot with apparent corrosion popping out of the holes due faucet water utilization

o White mineral construct-up coming out of the holes getting all over your dark apparel

o An iron that glaringly ironed a few fabric that melted to it and now is prepared to switch itself on your apparel

Road warriors can leave that all that behind by using getting a easy tour garment steamer.

What have to you search for in a tour handheld garment steamer?

Portability

It appears easy, but whilst you study some of the handheld garb steamer designs, it makes you wonder if they’re certainly designed for portability. Your travel steamer desires to healthy into your suitcase, backpack, or convey-on with room for all your other essentials. Fortunately, most of the famous journey steamers are properly-designed to absorb as little space as possible for your journey baggage.