![]() ![]() So if you have a series where each installment comes out every six or seven months – or fuck it, every three to four YEARS like some potters I might mention – there’s no way I can recall every detail and remember what it was that was happening When We Last Saw Lord Clusterhump and Lady Danderhead…. Add to that pregnancy hormones and I barely remember my own damn name. Part of the problem is that I have a really, breathtakingly, no I’m not kidding it’s BAD, memory. There’s this neverending feeling of “Tune in Next Week!” to find out if there’s ever going to be a resolution – and really, I’m just too much of a mental slacker to manage it all. Even the happily ever after isn’t entirely happy, because there’s More To Come. ![]() A series, particularly one that fringes or lands squarely in the Land o’Romance, has to keep some plotlines open to continue interest, and can’t wrap everything up. A soap opera allows a character to experience happiness for at least a few minutes of an episode before turning the sparkly pink happiness into great weeping (but never mascara-running) tears of woe. I can’t describe my negative reaction to a series without a finite end enough to identify what it is that bugs me, except to say that it’s similar to my dislike of soap operas. ![]() I think that I read too many Sweet Valley Highs as a teen because lately, series turn me off. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |