"Mona Lisa: A Life Discovered" by Dianne Hales (2014)

A slow-burning and quite beautiful double biography that discusses lives of both Leonardo da Vinci and Lisa Gherardini, along the way we are treated with a colourful tapestry of renaissance Florence with its cast of thousands and countless intriguing anecdotes of how life used to be back than. Reader must put aside any prejudices or opinions - its wrong to judge 16th century by modern standards and what nowadays we might consider wrong was totally accepted once. For example, like most of Florence ladies, Gherardini was constantly, perpetually pregnant and at the age of twenty four she was married eight years, with five children - high mortality of children meant that perhaps only half of them survived the childhood. Than there is this story about women often entering a covent if they didn't have a suitable dowry - without dowry, nobody would take them - two of her own sisters AND her oldest daughter entered a convent (at the age of twelve) and were basically buried alive for the rest of their lives, only because family could not get appropriate finances. (It seems dowry was only important for aristocrats who were carefully managing their lands and properties, a baker's daughter would marry for love.) Than there is Leonardo himself, who was never legitimately recognised by his father and as a "bastard" was not able to to attend university or to pursue professions such as medicine and law - he was forced to create himself and pursued a lifelong self education. 

At first, reader might wonder do we have any proper, documented informations about Gherardini but there are surprisingly many of them and Dianne Hales delightfully share her excitement in doing research in modern-day Italy, following the footsteps of both mysterious lady and her painter. We are introduced to the whole family clan and its many intricate branches, everything placed in its proper historical background, weddings, wars and all:

"Sometimes hours, sometimes days, weeks, or even months after the exchange of vows came the triumphal procession, the ductio ad domum or domumductio (leading [of a woman] home) from her parents’ to her husband’s residence, a bride’s moment of public glory. Since the marriage was not yet complete, Lisa did not have to wear a matron’s cloak (mantello) but could show off her wedding apparel to the entire town.

The festivities would have continued at the del Giocondo home, with a guest list extending beyond the immediate families to various kin groups. Everyone dressed as beautifully as possible as a way to “far onore” or contribute honor to the event. The wedding feast may have featured expensive treats, such as spiced veal, roast kid, peacocks’ tongues, and sweetmeats. Honeyed almonds were popular confections for the guests, with musicians, singers, and jugglers entertaining well into the evening.

The eating, dancing, toasting, and singing might have seemed to go on forever yet passed as quickly as a flash of summer lightning. As the bride, Lisa, imbued with the special authority of a queen for a day, could have invited young men and women to dance as couples. In the old Tuscan wedding ritual, her mother would have placed a baby boy in her arms as a harbinger of future sons and slipped a gold coin in her shoe for prosperity. Outside, a few young men may have lingered to shout and sing in a raucous mattinata, a tradition whenever an older man “stole” a young girl for his bride. Some coins tossed through the window for drinks would have persuaded them to leave." 

There is literary a cast of hundreds, including both notorious families of Borgia and Medici, Niccolò Machiavelli, various kings of France, young Raphael and Michelangelo who at thirty earned more money than Leonardo did in his lifetime. The rivalry between them was explained in a chapter dealing in their proposed (but never materialised) joined work, "The Battle of Anghiari" - in 2018 I have seen the exhibition about it in the Teylers Museum. 

Towards the end, I got a sudden epiphany about Leonardo's work - most of the things he created during his lifetime were celebrated but falling apart (for example, "The Last Supper" was peeling even during his lifetime). His motto was that art survives, where the real life beauty fades. It is very possible that the commissioned portrait of Gherardini (that he never ever even delivered) was something he kept on doing for years, out of his own pleasure and beautifying it with details and new ideas until it no longer resembled real life person. In the last chapters we learn about several copies around the world (none of them convinces me) and the fate of real painting that travelled far wider than either the artist or its subject ever did. 

"Kiss Kiss" by Roald Dahl (1960)

While listening a podcast about supposed spying activities of famous British writer Roald Dahl, I suddenly realised that I have actually never read anything by him - his children's books were often made into films and quite a few of them were my old favourites, hence why I never went to the originals. But it made a perfect sense to include him into my 2026 reading list which consist of my first-time authors - the decision is to focus this year on authors I have never read before. So I gave some attention to Dahl and it was a blast. 

First, I don't know why it took me so long to step out of my comfort zone and approach short story collection, because I have quite a few. Maybe I expected that the frame of short story will not have urgency of regular novel, where reader is compelled to continue. Wrong. Short stories were actually perfect because I could pick them up anytime (during work lunch break for example) and not miss a beat. But it did mean that I did not feel the urge to continue with a cliffhanger, so the book was simmering a while in the background while I waited another chance to continue. I mean, seriously, I could have just read it all at once, but it took me two weeks instead. 

However, when I disciplined myself into reading, I was enjoying it 100%. Dahl has a macabre sense of humour and brilliant imagination that fits me perfectly - I was hooked from a very first short story "The Landlady" (about young men falling victims to a supposedly harmless old lady) to the very last one ""The Champion of the World"  about pheasant poachers. Without exception, each single story was excellent and I loved them all - what I enjoyed the most was the way Dahl would abruptly finish the story, leading the readers to their own conclusions. It is too often now that people expect everything to be explained, but Dahl trusts his readers are adults and have intelligence to come to conclusion themselves. So when clueless locals decide to "help" antiques dealer, we don't get any detailed description what happened afterwards, only a tantalising sentence : "“We’re just in time!” Rummins called out. “Here he comes!”

There are stories about couples living in a long, loveless marriage, adultery, a mad beekeeper who is turning his baby into a queen bee, a neurotic and celibate vicar, parents fussing about sickly baby and praying to God that their little Adolf survives (!), mysterious cat who might be reincarnated Franz Liszt, and one about vegetarian boy who has never in his life tasted meat. Each of them is funny and bizarre in their own way and I absolutely loved the way Dahl weaves a tale - it fits with my own sense of humour, though I would never in a million years imagine this is the person who will find fame and success with children's novels. 

"Her husband closed the garden door behind him and walked across the room to get himself a cigarette. 

       “Edward, where is he?” 

       “Who?” 

       “You know who.” 

       “Ah, yes. Yes, that’s right. Well—I’ll tell you.” He was bending forward to light the cigarette, and his hands were cupped around the enormous patent lighter. He glanced up and saw Louisa looking at him—at his shoes and the bottoms of his khaki slacks, which were damp from walking in long grass. 

       “I just went out to see how the bonfire was going,” he said. 

       Her eyes travelled slowly upward and rested on his hands. 

       “It’s still burning fine,” he went on. “I think it’ll keep going all night.” 

       But the way she was staring made him uncomfortable. 

       “What is it?” he said, lowering the lighter. Then he looked down and noticed for the first time the long thin scratch that ran diagonally clear across the back of one hand, from the knuckle to the wrist. 

       “Edward!

“Yes,” he said, “I know. Those brambles are terrible. They tear you to pieces. Now, just a minute, Louisa. What’s the matter?” 

       “Edward!” 

       “Oh, for God’s sake, woman, sit down and keep calm. There’s nothing to get worked up about. Louisa! Louisa, sit down!”

"Willem and Frieda - A Story of Resistance" (2023) by John Hay

Despite the cornucopia of various streaming sites, what really makes me happy these days is a local Dutch channel npodoc  dedicated to documentaries and every time I am not in the mood for anything commercial or violent, I simply turn to these documentaries as my preffered comfort watch. I watched almost everything about the local history here and last night I saw something really interesting, this was a story about Amsterdam in WW2 and even though I have previously heard about the 1943 bombing of the civil registry office (where all the registered identity cards were stored) I was not aware of the identity of people involved in it.

The documentary is presented by Stephen Fry who walks trough the streets of Amsterdam, tracing the footsteps of Willem Arondeus and Frieda Belinfante who were both involved in the resistance - Aroundeus was impoverished, shy artist who joined resistance from the sheer conviction (not Jew himself), while Belifante was Jewish and one of the first female conductors in Europe. Both were involved in forging of identity cards for Jews and organisation of 1943 bombing of the civil registry office (I had to look it up, where it was - nowadays its a building next to entrance to Artis Zoo). The destruction of civil registry office was important in order to stop Nazi attempts to compare forged documents with documents in registry. Arondeus was arrested, tried and executed, while Belifante went into hiding and dressed up as a man, later emigrated to United States where she continued her music carer as a conductor.

It was an excellent documentary - Stephen Fry was a perfect choice for a presenter and the story itself was hugely interesting, pointing again how dangerous was to live trough WW2 (for example, it was not enough to be a Jew, simply being gay person could result into arrest and imprisonment in concentration camp). What is specially interesting is that after the war, the names of both Arondeus and Belifante were quietly erased from the history books, even though they were both clearly heroes of the resistance - something about them being gay, did not sit well with than current atmosphere and they were not often mentioned. This has now being corrected and I am so glad that people now more about them, I specially loved 1995 TV interview with elderly Belifante who comes across as the most wonderful, warm and likeable person.

"Remarkably Bright Creatures" by Olivia Newman (2026)

 

What a wonderful surprise and completely out of the blue! I was not aware of the best-selling novel that inspired this movie and it caught me completely by surprise, as a random suggestion by Netflix algorithm. I recognised Sally Field in a trailer and decided to give it a go, why not since Field was always lovely and dependable actress, even though Hollywood ageism means she was not given much opportunities recently. In fact, the last movie I saw her in was some silly comedy where she played frumpy office worker, infatuated with a new co-worker ("Hello, My Name Is Doris") and that was a decade ago. Guess what, this time she plays a frumpy, elderly widow who mops the floors of the local small town aquarium place. Poor Sally, she just can't get a break. Than again, it is refreshing to see someone playing their age and not going plastic surgery route.

As the movie started, me and my friend looked at each other - this feels good - in fact, he mentioned something like "this is like Christmas movie" - and that is exactly how it felt like. The story is set in a small town where Sally Field mops the floors of the local aquarium and in her solitude talks to a giant octopus, who actually listens to her (we hear his inner monologue and he is a very witty octopus, elderly just like her and perhaps at the end of his days). When a new person arrives in town, he ends up working along Sally Field and octopus notices they both have same pain in their eyes. This is enough to spur octopus in the action and he does some movie magic to connect these two, but along the way we are also introduced to other characters in this sleepy little town. Everything is super peaceful and comforting here, not to mention Sally Field's house that just looks like something out of the dream with a most beautiful view on a lake - honestly, it makes you want to move in there, right here and right now. 

What was so unexpected and lovely was the fact that this movie totally ignored everything current directors and producers force down our throats: there were no explosions, big fires, special effects, aliens, zombies, car crashes, eye pokings and violence of any kind. It was simply an good old fashioned family movie, a kind that we almost forgot, something everybody can watch together. It was a heart warming story about real people (and their octopus friend) that could perhaps in some other hands became maudlin but thanks to subtle direction and excellent Sally Field never crossed the line into too sentimental. In a way, it was lucky that I was watching this at home because if I was in cinema, I would probably crying my eyes out. Beautiful movie! 

Alma Cogan and Shirley Bassey

"The Marriage of Figaro" - direction, set and costumes: Kirill Serebrennikov (2026)

Last night I left the opera house a little bit perplexed and confused. (And relieved that is over) How is it possible that the magnificent and intoxicating music can at the same time be completely sabotaged by annoying staging and over-the-top direction? This is how both me and a friend felt as we left the building - and to be honest, the running time of three and a half hours was simply too much, the last 30 minutes was a pure agony. We had such a nice time not so long ago with "Semele" by Handel that this time we were absolutely sure that we will enjoy "The Marriage of Figaro". I mean, its Mozart, you can'y go wrong with him, its one lovely aria after another, right? Wrong. 

OK, let's mention some positive things first.

The music itself is beautiful and no one can take this away. No matter what ridiculous staging or costumes you throw at the audience, the magic of Mozart is indestructible and would work anytime, under any circumstances. I was actually surprised a few times when the voices of two female leads (Susanna and Countess) joined in the most beautiful harmony - and this happened just for a few seconds, just a few lines of lyrics - really dream-like and I would have never appreciated this on record, but hearing it live was thrilling. Most of the performers were excellent - specially earlier mentioned ladies, Björn Bürger as Count Almaviva and I loved the excellent bass singer Anthony Robin Schneider in a small supporting role. Strangely enough, I did not care much for the title role of Figaro (whom I found annoying) and much much more space was given to his girlfriend, a servant Susanna (Emily Pogorelc) so much in fact that the piece could easily be called "The Marriage of Susanna" instead. So, the performers and music were ok but ....

STAGING. 

I knew that Amsterdam's opera house loves to play around with a new modern productions and most of the time learned to accept it; even grew to enjoy it, since this is a classy stage and the magic of music is usually enough to convince me. This time the staging, direction and costumes were work by a certain Russian director Kirill Serebrennikov and I have to remember this name in order to avoid anything he does in the future. He sought some far stretched social criticism in the Mozart's delightful comedy - making it thrice pretentious, like this is some call for revolution and pseudo-philosophy. ("Capitalism kills love" was written on a wall at some point) He divided the stage in some sort of upstairs/downstairs Downtown Abbey world where upper floor is reserved for aristocrats and lower for the servants - but everything is happening upstairs, so what exactly was the point of downstairs, except for cramming it with washing machines and all sorts of ugly scenery (to explain this is servant's area) AND stage was constantly full of silent, non-singing actors moving around aimlessly and confusingly. We just had to assume they were servants. Costumes were modern day and ugly: instead of revealing social status of the characters, they were mostly ill-fitting and clumsy, particularly the annoying title character Figaro who was played by some overweight person running around in tight jeans and was irritating to look at. The director also decided to "refresh" Mozart's original libretto and divided the role of Cherubino into two different people for no apparent reason: so we had a deaf/mute Cherubino (male, mostly pantomime and more or less in a state of permanent nudity) and Cherubina (female singer interpreting his sign language). This Cherubino is here really just to show off his buttocks and at one point he even jumps out of the balcony - stripping naked first. Oh well. The worst of all was another mute character invented by this director, some sort of silent personal secretary of Count Almaviva - it was a completely irritating pantomime character constantly mugging, grinning, making faces and jumping around - if this was supposed to be funny, well it wasn't and I was even a bit angry with the way this particular director assumes the audience will lap it up, as everybody here is so infantile that we will laugh at this. Towards the end the whole concept of staging otherwise beautiful piece of music became so chaotic that I gave up trying to figure it out why are people suddenly walking around with peaces of mirrors, who is this person killing everybody with a knife and why the victims later all got up and sang again like nothing happened. Was it just imagination? Servant's revenge in a dream? 

I always suspected that for all its supposed free lifestyle, Amsterdam is actually a city of well-oiled bourgeoisie and not so progressive after all - it shows last night when at the end everybody gave standing ovation to this mess, I assume because audience is simply starving for operas by famous composers. There is no Mozart, Verdi or any popular composer on the repertoire, as opera house nowadays prefers either modern works or someone from inner Mongolia. But for me and my friend it was a very long performance indeed and we just couldn't wait to get out and shake off the bad taste. Apparently we are not the only ones feeling this way because this article explains everything I wrote much better: 

https://www.opusklassiek.nl/opera_operette/dno_mozart_figaro_corti.htm

We both agreed that previous opera we had witnessed ("Semele") was far more coherent and enjoyable than this chaotic mess. 

 

"Hopalong Cassidy 1: Bar-20" by Clarence Edward Mulford (1906)

Because this is the year of "first time authors" and because I had enjoyed both Zane Grey and Owen Wister, I decided to go back to Westerns - a genre in which previously I had absolutely no interest - typically for me, I have to do things in some kind of order so I continued with reading Westerns by chronology and since both "Betty Zane" and "The Virginian" were published at the beginning of the century, I selected first novel about a extremely popular fictional character called Hopalong Cassidy : "Bar-20" was where he was first introduced to a wide audience and apparently this was a beginning of a phenomenon that later grew out into films and TV.

Here I must admit that this time I doubted my own decision, since 1906 novel was a bit of challenge, mostly because of the language: Mulford uses a lot of Western vernacular speech that gets tiresome and off-putting after a while. This is a perfect example:

"“Yu wants to keep yore busted-down cows on yore own side. They was all over us day afore yisterday. I'm goin' to salt any more what comes over, and don't yu fergit it, neither.”

It goes like this the whole time and it really depends on a reader, do you continue or leave the book completely. I persisted and eventually started to enjoy myself despite initial reservations (somehow I turned my brain inside out to understand what is going on) but I can understand this is not for everybody. That is why it took me three extremely long weeks to finish what is actually not a big volume - I had to be in the right mood to approach wrestling with strange words. 

Not really a novel, more a short story collection, "Bar-20" is about cowboys working around ranch of the same name and their adventures - one of the characters is Hopalong Cassidy who eventually becomes the main character, but here is not just yet so. Guys ride their horses, drink, curse, sing dirty songs and alltogether behave like what now we expect cowboys to have been - as contrary to later, sanitised version created by Hollywood. The fact that there is almost no women at all in the book actually explains the lonely lives and camaraderie of the guys who are always ready to protect each other. Mind you, they are all very young guys and each time Hopalong Cassidy actually meets any woman, he behaves like a lovestruck teenager. 

"Bar-20" was the beginning of saga that produced more than 20 books, 66 movies and 6 seasons of TV show - Hopalong Cassidy became a hugely beloved character but it all started here, in this eccentric little book from 1906. It was not the best Western I read this year and to be honest, it deserves a solid 3 out of 5 stars - however, I did find myself enjoying the cowboys adventures, once I got over the strange language. The best of all was the description of cowboy's lives that totally lack any glamour - author lived with real life cowboys for a while and he knew what he was writing about.

"Full Service" by Scotty Bowers (2012)

The full title is "Full Service: My Adventures in Hollywood and the Secret Sex Lives of the Stars" and this is exactly what it promises - memoirs of a ex-marine who worked on a gas station in Hollywood and provided discreet services to the whole world, including some of the biggest names in the movie industry. At the time of the publishing, Bowers himself was well in his 90s and most of his acquaintances were long gone so it probably felt safe to open this Pandora's box because after all, who's going to complain about dirt on post-war Hollywood. And to be honest, at this point it's not a secret anymore that many of the celebrities lived double life, with studio's tactful approval, as long as they kept it far from media. Even thought many of his spicy stories seems like exaggeration (after all, who can either prove or disprove what xyz liked in the bedroom?) it must be noted that Bowers knows in a tiny detail a lot about celebrities houses, the interiors, roads, what cars they drove, etc. And yes, he is prominently mention in research by Alfred Kinsey  so it appears he was around at the time - its up to a reader to decide how much of this is true. 

There were two slight objections that kept on nagging me and I just couldn't shake it off:

- Bowers claims everything happened spontaneously simply because he was a good looking ex marine and was working on the gas station, when Hollywood producers and such would request his sexual services. One thing led to another and before you know it, he was connecting clients with available soldiers/sailors/girls - but he insist this was all for the sake of fun and he never ever took any money for this. In fact, he was just making everybody happy and making a world a better place. 

Than he proceeds to describe how for the next several decades he was extremely busy doing this while at the same time he was working as a bartender all around private parties in Hollywood. I don't want to sound cynical or nitpicking but please, investing so much time to do what is basically pimping and claiming it was not for money ... it just doesn't sound true. 

- Bowers obviously loved sex and affectionately describes every single occasion, where, how, with whom and how many people were involved. This made me stop a little bit and wonder was there not anything else in his life important remembering - he casually mentions wife and daughter, than goes back to orgies with celebrities - not to be too fussy, but what kind of person memorises zillion sexual encounters in a detail? Even as we read this, everything eventually blurs into a exhausting list of conquests - so much that a halfway trough I put it down and left to simmer for a while, unsure is this really worth continuing. 

My problem with this book was that it felt as a one-trick-pony. Once you get over the introduction and initial thrill of "dirty secrets", the gimmick wears off and its just never ending list of erotic encounters where author brags about celebrities that he encountered - almost like Zelig, he is everywhere, behind Hepburn, Beatles, King Kong and Bugs Bunny. I might have enjoyed it better if I read it as a teenager, when I loved these kind of dirty memoirs - now I am already middle aged and see things differently. Yes, we got it, it was difficult and complicated for those people to find dates and keep it hidden, but as a book it soon became repetitive. And I totally skipped the chapter about Charles Laughton, I simply didn't want to keep this in my head. 

"Kids, Wait Till You Hear This!" by Liza Minnelli, Josh Getlin and Heidi Evans (2026)

After a long & heavy battle with Walter Scott, I promised myself something light, fluffy and entertaining - and I had a perfect book in mind. I devoured this celebrity autobiography with the greatest pleasure in just a few days, nothing like previous book about medieval England and merry men from Sherwood forrest. Guess what, give me Walter Scott anytime - yes, it was sometimes a struggle but it was a beautiful creation worth repeated reading and it actually transported me in a different place and time. I was thinking this morning that this particular memoirs could have been something else entirely if Minnelli wrote it a decade or two ago, while she was still relatively strong in body and mind. At this moment, she is 80 and very frail, so naturally her focus is on a slow but inevitable decline. And we read about it a lot. Basically the first part of the book is climb upwards and second part is descent. Take it as you want. 

Years ago I read somewhere a description of Minnelli as a "loose cannon" and this had stayed with me since than. We all known and loved her since early 1970s when she at only 26, she won Oscar for her immortal role of quirky and lovable fräulein Sally Bowles - ever since, she was a famous for being famous, forever haunted by paparazzi and often photographed hanging around with other celebrities, though it would be hard to remember when was the last time she actually did something memorable. True, she did the best she could to escape gigantic shadows of her parents and created the individual stage persona for herself - kind of modern day version of her mother (who was a star of musicals and crowd magnet in live performances) - but she might had come along a little bit too late: during the 1960s people were turning to rock music and Minnelli was a throwback to completely different, earlier era of glitzy Las Vegas shows. While Streisand (who had similar background in the night clubs and musicals) eventually managed a smooth crossover to mainstream pop, Minnelli actually never had a hit single or successful movie after that 1972 masterpiece "Cabaret". 

So the first part of the book describes Minnelli's upbringing in Hollywood hills - kind of what people probably expect from her, memories of celebrities visitors, uncle this and uncle that, struggles with notoriously famous mother (who traumatised her for life, although Minnelli continues to write about her lovingly) and climb towards 1972 Oscar. Than something else emerges - the fact that movie industry didn't know what to do with her. Apparently the role like Sally Bowles happens only once in a lifetime. Notoriety and fame guaranteed that she will always have sold-out live performances in her concerts and musicals but both movie and music career basically quietly fizzled away. It's actually quite amazing to think that Minnelli continued performing for decades, even though she never had a hit record or another hit movie. Sporadic flash like silly 1981 comedy "Arthur" or 1989 out-of-the-blue collaboration with synth-pop duo Pet Shop Boys just proved that she was a wonderfully gifted, old-fashioned performer who never found another place to shine. 

I was always impressed with her powerful alto. I remember even as just a teenager, swooning over her early, pre-Cabaret recordings where she would recorded something like "On A Slow Boat To China" or "Stormy Weather" and honest to God I thought she was far, far better singer than her mother (I still do). So I continued enjoying her music and watching her dancing & singing in musicals was always a joy. But I understood that there was a big divide between her and regular big music stars who were selling chart-ruling hits - hers was a world of American Songbook and these things go in and out of fashion. When a surprising number of pop stars eventually turned to Songbook repertoire, Minnelli (who should have been by far the most obvious choice for this) was too busy with personal problems to actually pay attention to recordings. It is a miracle that her career continued as long as it did. 

The second part of the book is, sadly, perpetual fight with addictions, hospitals, rehab clinics and so on. It gets maddening and repetitive to the point that it unbalances the book - however, it is her story and her life. I can't comment on this since I don't hop around Hollywood parties with A list celebrities non stop, like she does. There must have been a lot of sycophants, enablers and whatnot around these people and its surely not a healthy environment, specially if someone is trying to stop drinking - luckily, she found a true friendship and support in Michael Feinstein and it seems they both love and support each other. The book was bittersweet - wonderful when things were happening, sad when they were not. It feels light and breezy but there were occasional reflections and insights that suggested Minnelli understands herself all too well. It takes a special kind of person to decide to give her whole life to a make-believe world. I love Liza. 

"From" - TV series (2022)

 

From time to time I wrote here about the TV shows I was enjoying (or not). There were some really good programmes recently that caught my attention, including "Silo", "Foundation" and "Pluribus" to name just a few, however they all have in common a fact that they were not overlong and were cleverly designed to keep the viewer's attention. That is how I got tricked into watching "From" on a friend's suggestion, not really knowing anything about it except that people who created "Lost" are behind it. Now, I am not even sure is that good recommendation or not, since after two seasons "Lost" eventually slid into a nonsense and was way too difficult for me to follow. But, hey, the premise looked good, the trailer was fine, so here I go, like a sucker, thinking oh well it must be good. Just to be reminded by my other half that I usually dislike TV shows that go on forever and should probably sign a contract to oblige me to watch it completely. 

A very exciting trailer and first few episodes of "From" set a tone of a horror/mystery story that was initially thrilling to watch: Matthews family arrives in some strange little town in the middle of nowhere and can't find their way out. There is a tree on the road blocking their way and no matter where they drive, they always end up at the same place, with resigned locals accepting this is their destiny, since everybody here got stuck the same way. Every single person here was driving elsewhere and got a tree blocking the road, just to find themselves back to the little town again and again. On top of all this, everybody must be indoors after sundown, because there are some shape-shifting monsters (pretending to be human) attacking and killing them. 

The cast is excellent - there is Harold Perrineau as sheriff Boyd, Ricky He as his deputy Kenny, Shaun Majumder as a local priest, Chloe Van Landschoot  as the only doctor/nurse, Avery Konrad as a young Sara who hears the voices (telling her to kill people) and Scott McCord as a creepy Victor who is here the longest and seems never grew up from his traumatic childhood. My favourite is Elizabeth Saunders as a straight-talking, no-nonsense leader of Colony House as the town is divided into two groups of survivors. While some people prefer to live in their own, heavily protected houses, others decide to live in a kind of hippie commune called Colony House. What is safer or better, depends on your point of view. My least favourite characters are actually Matthews family themselves, who are I guess meant to be everyday ordinary family but feel extremely annoying to me and I'm glad my family was never like this. We are supposed to sympathise with them but during all this danger and mayhem they mostly whine and behave in this touchy-feely way that I had never encountered in real life. Example: Jim and his wife Tabitha have argument about why he never opens and expresses his emotions instead of pretending that he is strong. Two minutes later he breaks down and cries a river, while his wife (who was crying in a previous scene) is now supporting him. And don't let me even start about spoiled and privileged kids who are constantly pampered to the point of growing into self-centred narcissists (ok, maybe the little kid less than his teenage sister who is insufferable). 

The first season had only 10 episodes, which seems like a reasonable length to me but alas, dear reader, the curse of "Lost" now started to repeat itself: in attempt to keep the audience glued to the screen, script writers keep on piling mystery on top of mystery without really explaining anything or coming to any conclusion. A little bit like Scheherazade who was weaving "One Thousand and One Nights" without end in sight. At the end of the first season, we are left without a single explanation why are these people stuck, who are the night monsters, why is this happening at all, etc, etc. The first season actually ends with the arrival of bus full of new characters who will (I expect) now will be either new victims or new elements of the plot. There might be some people who enjoy this and love guessing what is happening and what will happen - however, I have seen this already in "Lost" and it didn't work out so well, in fact I deserted that show after a while, finding it confusing and manipulative. Like the script writers think of themselves too clever to actually bother with any conclusions, dropping hints and suggestions all the time without any explanations. So here I am, halfway trough the season two and already frustrated because the series just going on and on without any logical explanation. I guess we will eventually find out they are all dead and this is purgatory. That should teach me not to be a sucker and accept every good trailer. 

"Ivanhoe" by Walter Scott (1819)

This has been on my to-read list forever and with some embarrassment I must admit that I don't recall ever actually reading Scott before. What I do remember is borrowing his "The Heart of Mid-Lothian" from my local public library as a teenager and bringing it back unread, so my initial introduction to this writer was not very impressive. Who knows was it a clumsy translation or simply the fact that I might have been too young for flowery and long-winded style of this author, but it left me a bit intimidated all these years until now. And since I decided that 2026 will be year of reading only writers I never read before, it came as completely spontaneous decision. Truth to be told, I always had soft spot for old classics and this year I already pushed myself trough experience of 1902 western "The Virginian" which was wonderful, though initially hard nut to crack - the more I persevered, the more I loved it. So perhaps unconsciously, I hoped for a similar experience. And I was 100% right.

First, a few words about Walter Scott - he was already a famous writer when he published "Ivanhoe" in 1819. He had enormous success with a series of historical novels set in 17th and 18th century Scotland, but with this next novel he decided to move plot in medieval England and there was something about the change of pace or perhaps he was simply inspired, in any case "Ivanhoe" became the biggest success of his professional life and turned thousands of readers to medieval history. This particular novel is the reason why they call Walter Scott "the father of historical fiction". Interestingly enough, everything we later accepted as a part of Robin Hood/Richard the Lionheart lore comes from this novel - all those legendary characters (Prince John, Friar Tuck, etc) they are all here and although they are supportive characters, they left such a strong impression on the readers that subsequent writers all use Scott as a inspiration. Another thing I must mention is Scott's writing style which is very, very old fashioned + he created his own version of old English language which is somewhere between poetic and annoying - first two chapters were incredibly hard to crack but as I continued, the magic happened and I started to actually enjoy the rhythm and the flow of the sentences. It felt as I am reading this forever but actually it was only 3 weeks. With all my proclaimed "suffering", when the end came I was sad to let the book go. Exactly like with above mentioned "The Virginian", it was at first difficult to read but than I got totally into it and at the end I loved it with all my heart. 

The novel itself is a curios combination of medieval knights adventure story and a highly researched historical novel, with some occasional moralising and a tons of sidetracking and detours that stop the plot dead in its tracks but also bring a real sense of author's thinking and his personality. Scott might not be really the first but he was certainly the first really widely read writer of historical fiction and very often this particular novel transport the reader into a completely different, medieval world - I was as enchanted as everybody else. From top of my head, I recall the description of funeral party after the passing of Saxon nobleman Athelstane and how all sorts of medieval folks crowded the Castle of Coningsburgh: 

" Numerous parties, therefore, were seen ascending and descending the hill on which the castle was situated; and when the King and his attendants entered the open and unguarded gates of the external barrier, the space within presented a scene not easily reconciled with the cause of the assemblage. In one place cooks were toiling to roast huge oxen and fat sheep; in another, hogsheads of ale were set abroach, to be drained at the freedom of all comers. Groups of every description were to be seen devouring the food and swallowing the liquor thus abandoned to their discretion. The naked Saxon serf was drowning the sense of his half-year’s hunger and thirst in one day of gluttony and drunkenness; the more pampered burgess and guild-brother was eating his morsel with gust, or curiously criticising the quantity of the malt and the skill of the brewer. Some few of the poorer Norman gentry might also be seen, distinguished by their shaven chins and short cloaks, and not less so by their keeping together, and looking with great scorn on the whole solemnity, even while condescending to avail themselves of the good cheer which was so liberally supplied.

Mendicants were, of course, assembled by the score, together with strolling soldiers returned from Palestine (according to their own account at least); pedlars were displaying their wares; travelling mechanics were inquiring after employment; and wandering palmers, hedge-priests, Saxon minstrels, and Welsh bards, were muttering prayers, and extracting mistuned dirges from their harps, crowds, and rotes. One sent forth the praises of Athelstane in a doleful panegyric; another, in a Saxon genealogical poem, rehearsed the uncouth and harsh names of his noble ancestry. Jesters and jugglers were not awanting, nor was the occasion of the assembly supposed to render the exercise of their profession indecorous or improper. Indeed, the ideas of the Saxons on these occasions were as natural as they were rude. If sorrow was thirsty, there was drink; if hungry, there was food; if it sunk down upon and saddened the heart, here were the means supplied of mirth, or at least of amusement. Nor did the assistants scorn to avail themselves of those means of consolation, although, every now and then, as if suddenly recollecting the cause which had brought them together, the men groaned in unison, while the females, of whom many were present, raised up their voices and shrieked for very woe." 

There is of course a story itself - about disinherited young knight Wilfred of Ivanhoe who is back from the crusade together with his lord Richard the Lionheart and how they had to fight back trough all the enemies surrounding the evil usurper Prince John, plus numerous complications concerning ladies (pretty but bland Saxon princess Rowena, who epitomises than current ideal of decorative and helpless beauty, the Jewish healer Rebecca who is far more interesting character), Robin Hood and his outlaws, countless servants, knights, abbots, etc. The novel is really a masterpiece and even though it was difficult to get into it, it gave me hours of joy and bliss.