The Walking Dead: "Home"

Hello, everyone, and welcome back to our weekly recaps of The Walking Dead, featuring the impromptu compositional stylings of myself, Josh Winstead, and your fabulous host, pop culture den mother and sovereign ruler of the Niktatorship: Miss Nikki Stafford.

This week's episode, “Home,” was a diverse one, giving us everything from flirty sweetness to sweaty madness and all manner of in-between. It also presented several series firsts, including Daryl and Merle together in both conversation and combat, Michonne volunteering helpful information, Rick expressing awareness of his ongoing breakdown, Andrea appearing to finally (maybe) pick up on the Governor's duplicitousness, a minor character embellishing his/her backstory as precursor to being unceremoniously slaughtered... wait, scratch that last one, because that happens EVERY TIME. Still, lots of great stuff to discuss and dissect, so let's get to it.

The top of the hour picks up right where we left off, with Rick still firmly in the grasp of a prolonged mental collapse. While on patrol at the front of the compound, he again sees Phantom Lori, wandering about the grounds wearing the same ethereal white satin dress in which she appeared on the prison walkway in last week's episode. He follows her out and into the woods, leaving unlocked gates behind him as he goes. Which, considering his position as leader and gate guard – not to mention the whole zombie plague thing going on – is rather inadvisable, really. But fortunately for Rick, Michonne was nearby to secure the gates, having taken up in an overturned bus out in the prison yard when he kicked her out of the big house for what I can only classify as exasperating social ineptitude. (I should probably note, however, that her absence of communication also extends to people who aren't there, too, so who's inept now, buddy?)

The ongoing situation with Rick hemorrhaging marbles is at this point most astutely observed by Hershel, who continues to be the smartest guy in every room this season and the only one of the survivors, even after last week's wild outburst, who knows the full depth and breadth of Rick's impairment. The group has probably never needed Rick more than they do right now, and of course that means he's never been less capable. Glenn, spurred somewhat by necessity but more by his anger and frustration over what happened to he and Maggie during their incarceration in Woodbury, is trying to take the reins, but his rage is clouding his judgment. Hershel, of course, knows the secret of Glenn's motivation (not that he's trying to hide it) and is desperate to pull the sheriff off the disabled list and put him back in the game. But Rick's illness will not be easily resolved, and at some point his inadequacy will need to be addressed, or I fear that it will cost them much more dearly than Axel's life.

I loved the debate between Hershel and Glenn about what to do next, anticipating the Governor's retaliation for the rescue mission against Woodbury. Both made excellent points during the discussion, and though there was not necessarily a 'right' answer, they certainly settled on the best crappy option by choosing to stay and try to defend the prison. The scene played beautifully, I thought, reasoned and organic, whereas comparable encounters in the past have struggled to find a similar authenticity. In light of the surprising events at episode's end, however, I'm no longer sure how much a difference reason and preparation will make in the coming conflict.

Nikki, what are your thoughts on the group's struggles for leadership in the face of this building storm?

Nikki: The theme of leadership was definitely front and centre in this episode. Whether it’s the Governor oddly stepping down in Woodbury or the question of who is next in line at the prison, leadership is definitely in flux. And it begs the question: what makes a good leader? Is it someone who can fight? Not really, because there are plenty of soldiers in any battle who can fight better than the leaders. A leader is someone who can make decisions.

Glenn and Hershel talk about leadership, and Glenn says flat out that Rick is basically batshit crazy, so that makes him the de facto leader. And I couldn’t help but think, really? Why isn’t anyone considering Hershel? Is it because he’s missing a leg? That doesn’t seem to have affected his calm, his reason, and his decision-making. He can tell a liar from someone who is trustworthy, and has a sixth sense better than anyone. He sees right to the heart of everything: he knows his daughter has been abused in some way, and while that must tear him up inside, he’s giving her the room she needs to deal with it. He knows that Glenn is going through horrible guilt and confusion of his own, and he’s let him know that he’s like a son to him, that he can talk to him whenever he needs to, and again he’s let him have his space. He knows that Rick is out of his tree, and he’s the only one not scared to approach Rick about it. When Rick comes clean (in a way he never would with anyone else in that compound), and tells him that he can see Lori, but he knows she’s not real (a VERY important admission, and one that gives us hope for Rick yet), Hershel immediately asks if she was also the one on the telephone. He’s putting together all of the events in the prison, and knows what people are thinking and feeling. He enters the picture to give advice and to listen, and leaves them alone to come to their own conclusions.

He’s a truly amazing character, and one that they all need at a time like this.

Merle and Daryl, as you say, also have an incredible heart to heart. LOVED that scene. I never thought they could humanize Merle, but they do. And all it took was for him to see his little brother’s back. He’s been so filled with hatred for all of them for abandoning them that he never realized it was HE who abandoned them. That he’d already abandoned Daryl to a much worse monster years ago — an abusive father — and poor Daryl returned to his big brother after that and continues to stand by his side. But it doesn’t take long for Daryl to realize that some things are hopeless, and he decides he’s better off with the group. “I might be walking away,” he says to Merle, “You’re the one that’s leaving. Again.” And he leaves.

And Merle, who saw the back and immediately stopped jabbering, who was silenced for the first time in the series, who actually apologized (!!) and saw the truth of the situation, stays alone for a nanosecond before realizing he will not abandon his brother again.

Last week we were all entirely convinced Daryl would have to kill Merle. And this week there’s a shocking possibility that Merle might be a part of the group (which, to be honest, is a more interesting turn of events!) I’m looking forward to seeing what happens there.

Joshua: Seeing Merle and Daryl on screen together has been something we've all been waiting for, and despite high expectations, Sunday's fulfillment of that longstanding wish did not disappoint. At all. And part of the reason for its unqualified success, I think, is that nothing about their time together played out quite like I thought it would. Daryl's anger and frustration toward his brother was a complete surprise, and I loved the way the progression of their scenes gradually changed the audience's perception of the source of that anger.

At first, it seems that Daryl is not so much upset with Merle as simply resentful of being forced into the decision to separate from the group – the real 'home' of the episode's title – and is taking it out on his brother as a convenient target. Then, as Daryl seeks out and assists the family under attack on the bridge, we're led to believe he's upset to find just how little Merle has changed in their time apart, that his brother is still every bit the bigoted opportunist sleazeball he used to be. And finally, in their near-throwdown afterward, all of Daryl's pent-up rage comes boiling out, and we learn the full extent of their complicated relationship in just a few well-crafted lines of dialogue.

I figured that it wouldn't take Daryl very long to be reminded of who and how his brother really is and just how much he was leaving behind when he elected to sacrifice his place within the group, but I never expected it all to happen so quickly. The downloads of exposition were never overplayed, and the acting between Reedus and Rooker was fantastic. So many moments – Daryl's gradual decision on the bridge to end Merle's ransacking of the family's car at gunpoint; the reveal of the Yellow Jacket Creek sign at the end, proving Daryl was right in their navigational argument; the look on Merle's face when Daryl says, “You lost your hand 'cause you're a simple-minded piece of shit!” – combined brilliantly to make the interplay between these two everything that fans hoped it would be.

And now, as you say, we have Merle's attempted integration to look forward to, and it's gonna be one hard sell, regardless of how hard up they are for trigger fingers and whatever possible tactical insight he might provide. Will he even be willing to commit to them at all, or will we instead find him playing double agent for The Governor, despite his ousting and Daryl's obvious allegiance to the opposition? It seemed like the attack on the prison at the end of the episode was more about The Governor testing the waters than anything else, evaluating their defenses and trying to put them on edge, and they proved ill prepared at best. Does that step up his timeline, or is it exactly in keeping with his suspicions? His smug smile certainly seemed to indicate satisfaction with the results.

Regardless, it would appear that he intends for Andrea to play a role in his plan of attack, however willing she proves to be. She's proven herself to be easily manipulable so far, and while there's still the possibility that she might grow a brain and find a way to help her old friends instead of continuing to play into the hands of her lunatic boyfriend, I'm not exactly holding my breath.

Nikki: During the prison ambush, I particularly adored the visual gag of the postal truck crashing through the gates and making a special delivery… of walkers. Brilliant. But, to your last point, I’ll admit that there was a moment when the driver jumped out — and appeared to have a woman’s build — where I thought, “Oh my god, is that Andrea?!” But the thought was momentary, and I pushed it away. I wouldn’t think Andrea would turn on her friends and shoot at them. She knows they’re good people, fighting to survive. Now, the Governor could skew it. He could tell her they came after him or come up with some argument, and she’s a little too gullible to see through it, despite the fact she’s spent a long time with those other people and fought by their side through thick and thin. But part of me just hopes that old Andrea is there somehow; would look at Carol and remember the abused wife who lost her only child; would look at Carl and marvel at how he’s grown; would notice Lori and T-Dog are missing and would mourn them; would remember how they all stood together to remember Shane, and Dale, and her sister, and everyone else they’ve lost. That she would look at Rick and be shocked at how far he’s fallen, and hope that he’ll be OK. That she’d notice Hershel’s leg is missing, that Maggie and Beth are still alive, and be sad that their sister and her husband are gone. That she’d notice how quiet Maggie is and how beat up Glenn is, and perhaps realize that it was Woodbury that did that to them.

Just as Daryl is heading back home, so too were these people her home once. I’m hoping against hope that she’ll remember that when it matters.

The Governor’s discussion with Andrea was false, as was everything he says. He reassured her that he wouldn’t retaliate against the prison (lie) and that he wants her to be the one in charge (lie). “I’ve done some terrible things,” he tells her. “I’m not fit to lead these people. You are.” Despite the fact that she’s not fit to lead a sing-along, the rest of his statement was true. But insincere, since he doesn’t actually believe any of it at all. Instead, he gives her the nerve to take charge, but then tells bumbling Milton to keep an eye on her. Andrea’s not in charge at all, and never will be.

The attack on the prison was shocking and exciting, especially with Rick trapped outside the fence. The Governor comes off as a crazy, insane bastard, the same way he pulled up and took out the army men in the first half of the season. Only with just one eye and shooting randomly in the air, he comes off as even scarier.

Was he trying to scare them only? He takes out Axel on his very first shot, from very, very far away. And then, after that, not a single shot actually hits anyone. Were they meaning to miss, or was this just classic television where a thousand rounds go off and everyone is a terrible shot, or was he really just lucky on the first one because Lyle was an easy target and once everyone hit the ground they were legitimately tough to hit? I loved Daryl and Merle jumping into the fray, bringing them back into the fold right away, and Glenn driving in with that “WTF?!” look on his face.

And then, just like that, they were gone again. What will this do to our survivors?

Joshua: Despite the fact that The Governor's raid was reasonably successful inasmuch as it took The Prisonaires off guard, wrecked a fence, and claimed a life,  I'm not so sure it will have the effect he intends. He thinks he's shaken them up, but I think he's only squandered the element of surprise. Remember, this is the same team we saw performing so efficiently at the beginning of the season, moving from place to place like a post-apocalyptic strike team. These are the same people who cleared the overrun prison and claimed it for their own, who snuck into Woodbury in the middle of the night – with no reconnaissance, no concrete plan of attack, led by a stranger who quickly abandoned them – and with a team of just three people, executed a successful rescue mission against a well-armed platoon of guys. They've suffered heavily this year, in a myriad of ways, but even in their current compromised state, they are not to be underestimated.

My hope is that this rather half-hearted preliminary attack will be just the impetus for focus and reconsolidation that they needed, because without question, they're fighting a madman. The detail that stuck out most clearly to me about The Governor's behavior during the attack was not his firing willy-nilly or that loopy grin on his face but the fact that as the bullets rained down on their truck, he never ducked, never flinched, never took cover. I believe the loss of his zom-baby also cost him his will to live, and since he already assigned no value to anyone else's life beyond whatever purpose they serve, now he's just a walking black hole – feral, irrational, unyielding and endlessly hungry. Our heroes better get ready, because I think the next assault will be very different indeed.

A couple of quick things I wanted to highlight for their specific awesomeness before I turn it back over to you for the wrap:

• Carol using Axel's body for cover was brilliant; her presence of mind here lately continues to impress the hell out of me.

• Daryl Dixon: redefining the term 'vehicular manslaughter,' one zombie at a time.

• So, are Tyreese & Co., like, gone gone? I thought for sure they'd be camped out by the fence like Michonne, but apparently Rick's breakdown was scarier than I thought, because they were nowhere to be seen this week. I predict they show up again just in time to save someone's life down the road... Carl, perhaps? We surely haven't seen the last of them.

• “You know I wouldn't have hobbled all the way down here if it wasn't important.” Made me laugh out loud.

• One last prediction: either Andrea is the one who kills The Governor, or he kills her. I feel it in my bones.

That's all I have this week, ma'am. With only six more episodes left this season, what do you think is coming next?

Nikki: You’re right about how savvy our survivors are. I loved the final image of the episode, where Rick, for the first time in a long time, looks straight ahead with a head full of resolve. The Governor’s raid just might have knocked some sense back into him. He’s still mad, but now he’s a madman on a mission. And that could be amazing to watch. The Governor, on the other hand, has gone wackadoo, and that will hurt him. I like the idea of Andrea and him going head to head.

As my final note I wanted to point out some of the production things that happened this week. That first opening POV shot through Rick’s binoculars was fantastic, because we could only see what he could see through that narrow lens, and his slow pan across the grounds of the prison made the opening very tense, because you couldn’t help but think there was evil lurking just outside what those binoculars could pick up, but he wouldn’t move the lens fast enough for us to see what was happening next. (Yes, I’m that person who would be snatching the binoculars from him and looking for myself. You don’t want me in your survival group.)

Secondly, the music seemed particularly extraordinary this week. From the haunting sounds we heard when Rick saw Lori, to the mournful song that played as Rick talked to Hershel through the fence, to the fast-paced sounds pounding through the ambush scene, it really stood out for me, and didn’t fade into the background as music so often does. In most cases, you want it in the background, buoying up the action, but every once in a while, I appreciate it when it jumps to the foreground.

And lastly, while I agree that Carol is kick-ass, I must ask: in an apocalypse, where the hell is she finding hair gel to spike out her coif, and where did she find that new purple embroidered top in a men’s prison?! Her new look is amazing, but I don’t see any shops in the immediate vicinity. But maybe they’ve made a run into town that’s off-screen. (Yes, I’m trying to come up with stupid answers to my own nitpicky questions.)

See you next week, folks!

Book #2: Cloud Atlas

I've had Cloud Atlas on my shelf for some time now, and have wanted to read it for ages. I'm one of those people who, when I have a book on my shelf that comes out in movie form, I stubbornly refuse to see the movie until I've read the book. (It's why I have yet to see Oscar and Lucinda, despite loving Ralph Fiennes. HOW old is that movie now?? Book still sitting here, unread.)

So when Cloud Atlas came out to generally mixed reviews, I thought maybe for a change I won't bemoan the fact I didn't read the book first, and instead I will simply read the book. Just after Christmas I picked it up and read it through our trip to Florida in January.

And it is honestly unlike any book I've ever read.

The book contains six separate storylines that at first don't appear to have anything to do with one another. The first story ends mid-sentence, which caused me at first to think I had a faulty book missing a signature (I went back and forth checking the page numbers before realizing it was intentional... not surprising, given I was one of those people who thought my cable had cut out at the very end of The Sopranos series finale). After the second story ends mid-thought, I began realizing there was something else going on. And then motifs began popping up from one story to the next.

Moving from an ill man's diary entries on a 19th century ship through to a society in the very, very distant future — and then backwards back to the ship — the book spans centuries, and in doing so has a very important message. Nothing that will hit you over the head (in fact, I'm quite certain a number of readers have probably finished this book and thought, Well, what the hell was THAT?!) but if you can see the ties that connect one story to the next, you'll really begin to enjoy it. (The first concrete one happens between the second and third.)

I have SO MUCH to say about this book, but can't because I don't want to spoil it for you. If you are a Lost fan (and if you're reading this blog, there's a very high likelihood you are), I think you'll like this book. It's challenging, philosophical, laugh-out-loud funny at times, and so beautifully written that David Mitchell will make you feel inferior no matter how good a writer you think you are. He plays with so many styles in this — journalling, epistolary, PG Wodehouse–type British comedy, noir detective story, and science fiction — and writes each one like that's his only style. I can't say enough good things about this book. So I'll just tell you to trust me on this and give it a shot.

And in the meantime, maybe I'll finally bring myself to see the movie. While reading the book, I kept thinking, "How could anyone have possibly adapted this to film?" While I've heard it's disappointing, I'm interested and intrigued to see the attempt.

OK, what's the second book you've read this year?

The Walking Dead: "The Suicide King"

Welcome back to the second half of the third season of analysis of The Walking Dead, with my wonderful and brilliant co-host, Joshua. (In a zombie apocalypse, I would totally eat your brains first, bud.)

We last left our survivors on the brink, with “Merle ’n’ Derle” in a battle to the death with the Governor acting as the one-eyed referee. He recently lost his ability to enjoy 3D films when Michonne impaled his sinister eyeball, after doing away with his tiny little zombie daughter. So, she’s in the bad books with him, to say the least. 

Tyrese and his trio of survivors had gotten into the prison after losing the mother and wife of the other two, but Carl — who did an immense amount of growing up in the first half of the season, officially sloughing off the mantle of “character we kinda want dead” — is acting as deputy sheriff (he even has the hat, people!) and has locked them away until he can figure out what to do with them.

Rick and his gang had invaded Woodbury, but apparently had shown up with 47 canisters of teargas and used every one of them, so Andrea just started shooting into the smoke, not knowing she was aiming at her own people. Oscar from the prison was killed (because Tyrese was introduced and there’s only room for one African-American on the show at one time), and the others managed to get away. Maggie had been stripped of the top half of her clothing by the Governor, who brought her in to Glenn like that, and Glenn thought Maggie was raped and spilled the location of the prison where the others were. The Governor had only scared her, though, threatening to hurt her but not doing it.

And so, at the beginning of this episode, we end up back in the ring with the two hillbilly brothers. Poor Daryl has been haunted by what he thought was the ghost of his dead brother for a long time, and is now face-to-face with a grotesque mangled version of him, and he’s upset and confused about what to do. Merle jumps right into the fray and begins pounding on his brother, taking out some of his anger for having been left behind so many months ago. But it doesn’t last, and soon the brothers stand together and begin to take out the real enemy — the menacing walkers around them. 

They escape, join up with Rick’s group, and Merle continues to be an utter ass while Daryl just looks too baffled to speak. When Rick knocks Merle unconscious with the butt of his gun, Daryl doesn’t fight him. He’s speechless and confused. Confused because this is his blood, his big brother who probably stuck up for him for a lot of his life. However, he also knows his brother’s a complete dick, and he’s conflicted about what to do. On his own, Daryl has flourished and has been allowed to turn into a real, sympathetic human being who is part of the group. Now he’s faced with a very difficult decision — does he go back to his brother and live separately in Merle’s “us against them” mentality, or does he return to the prison, with a group of people who have become his family? Who accept him as one of them? Who respect him? Who, in Carol’s case, truly care about him?

And in this case, blood is thicker than water. Daryl issues the “No him, no me” ultimatum, and then follows through on it when Rick refuses to integrate Merle back into the group (honestly, while Rick hasn’t made the wisest decisions lately, this is one where you can hardly blame him).

What did you think about Daryl’s decision, Josh, and the return of the show in general?

Joshua: Well, howdy, Nik-at-Nitehawks! Happy Gnaw Year, and welcome back to Georgia. I’ve missed you like a hastily amputated limb, and I am so pleased that the Mayan apocalypse didn’t annihilate us all before we can find out how Li’l Asskicker turns out.

Most of the action from this week’s return came right at the top of the hour, as Rick and Maggie rode in to rescue the Brothers Dixon from the Woodbury lynch mob just in time. But of course, the decision to bring Merle along went over like a fart in church, as my great grandmother would say. And truly, Rick could have expected nothing else – particularly from Glenn, who still bears the marks of Merle’s interrogation, both physical and emotional. I wouldn’t have thought Glenn would come out of their experience more affected than Maggie, but that certainly seems to be the case. Between the brutalities of his treatment, the sustained endangerment of their lives, and his own essential helplessness, Glenn has been pushed to the breaking point since their abduction. Personally, I would give myself a lot more credit if I had managed to kill a walker while tied to a chair and then armed (excuse the pun) my girlfriend with an improvised dagger made out of the guy’s freakin’ ulna. But maybe that’s just me.

Regardless, Glenn has been through the ringer, unquestionably assuming more than once that his death was a foregone conclusion and likely assuming the same for the woman he loves. And yet, somehow, they made it out alive. After all this peril and strain, he’s never been so instable, so vulnerable, and the sight of his friends returning from their rescue mission with his captor in tow almost finished him. We’ve spent a lot of time this season discussing how successful the writing team has been in conveying the emotional fragility of the characters, the fallout from such constant fatigue and the way that feeds into all other aspects of their lives. Everything about Glenn’s desperation and anxiety felt genuine to me, made all the more heartbreaking by the way it served to push our ever-shrinking band of survivors even farther apart.

Case in point: as we all feared, Daryl has chosen blood over community, electing to strike out on his own with Merle rather than abandon his brother for the esteem and purpose he’s found amongst the group. It wasn’t hard to imagine that things would go down like this, but what surprised me was how obviously he wore his heartache. Daryl has always been a closed door as a character, withholding any outward displays of emotion that weren’t aggressive or confrontational, but slowly that has changed. I don’t believe we’ve ever seen him be quite so transparent as he was in his anguish over being forced into this decision, and I suspect Daryl’s grief will manifest itself in some striking displays of anger and resentment toward his brother in the coming weeks. Eventually he’s bound to make his way back, whatever the reason (as a die-hard softie, I’m hoping it’s Carol, but dollars to doughnuts it will prove some random manifestation of Merle’s innate depravity instead). Meanwhile, the others are left to suffer the fallout of his departure.

Which brings me to my pick for episode MVP. Melissa McBride has always done a tremendous job with the delicate balancing act of playing Carol, but since Lori’s death, it seems she’s been slotted into the position of TWD Matriarch. This week’s episode in particular gave her a number of times to shine, and she nailed it in every instance. From her noise pollution soliloquy with Carl at the gate through her gut-wrenching reaction to – and eventual acceptance of – Daryl’s decision to leave, Carol played the heart of the team every bit as effectively as Hershel played the backbone. I love where the writers are leading her, and Ms. McBride is selling it brilliantly.

Nikki:  I so agree with you on Carol. She’s a wonderful character on the show, and was, as you say, a little one-dimensional in the first season (and in most of the second) but in the third, she’s really come forward. I think some part of me will always be haunted by that scene of her last fall where she sat over the dead zombie with a scalpel, trying to figure out how to do a c-section. And the way she played the scene where Daryl doesn’t return isn’t the way you’d expect it to be played: either playing it cool, pretending it’s no big deal and then crying on her own, or else going over-the-top with her emotions. Instead, she’s more confused, “Really? He’s gone? HE’S GONE?” as if she’s trying to figure out how this is possible.

And I agree with you. Daryl will find his way back, but how and why he does will be what I can’t wait to watch.

What I found interesting between Maggie and Glenn is that he thinks she’s been raped, and she knows that she was threatened, but not actually raped. And yet… she hasn’t told Glenn this. Is it because he thinks she’s been raped, and she was too much in shock to tell him the truth, and now it feels like she can’t tell him? Or… has she not told him because she thinks that he went too far in giving the Governor the location of Rick and company, and he only did so because he thought they’d done something terrible to Maggie? And now, if she tells him she wasn’t actually raped, he’ll think that she had misled him by not saying something instantly, not confirming, “I’m OK! They didn’t hurt me, DON’T SAY ANYTHING” as soon as she appeared in the doorway with the Governor? It’s a really tough situation that’s only being conveyed through her eyes and body language right now, but it’s hard to pinpoint what’s going through their minds right now.

I hate seeing Glenn broken.

And now over to Rick. Like Jack Shephard on Lost, Rick is making some decisions that not all fans are going to like, but as a leader, that’s what you do. Unlike Jack, however, Rick took the mantle of leader; Jack had the role thrust upon him. Rick is starting to act less like a leader and more like a dictator. “I give you food and water and save your life, and in return you will listen to me!” I understand this guy has been through the ringer — remember, Lori’s only been dead a few days at this point, though it seems like months to us — and he’s clearly mentally ill. Between Shane and Lori, the ghosts of his past are catching up to him, and affecting his ability to judge what’s real and what isn’t.

I was actually starting to hate him in the scene when he was telling Tyrese to move along, he wasn’t welcome here. I understand the whole “not trusting” thing, but at some point the only way to rebuild your life is to begin trusting other people. And Tyrese seems like a really good person. You can’t just mistrust everyone (for some reason he can trust Lyle but not Tyrese? How is that now?)

But the writers are able to pull us back from the brink of hating Rick by showing just how mentally unstable he is, when Lori appears on the upper tier. You could see by the looks on everyone else’s face that they are equal parts baffled and scared (especially poor Carl, who’s lost one parent and now must fear he’s losing another), and poor Tyrese and his crew immediately assume that when he’s yelling to get out, he’s yelling and waving the gun at them (just facing the other direction for some reason). And, Tyrese not being stupid, they quickly grab their stuff and beat it.

Again, I haven’t yet read the graphic novels (though they’re sitting right behind me as I type this and I’m starting to move my chair closer to them), but I heard a lot about Tyrese before he finally showed up on the series, so I’m assuming that’s not the last we see of him. I’m hoping he’s integrated into the group and becomes a rival for leader. Now THAT would make for some pretty intense television.

Joshua: Depending on the angle they take, there is definitely some interesting stuff coming up with Tyrese. It's impossible to predict what we'll see and what we won't, however, as events have already differed so much between the two versions. For example, Tyrese appears in the comics not long after the group leaves Atlanta, even before they find Hershel's farm, and he has a daughter and her boyfriend in tow but no other adults. He certainly comes across as similar in disposition, but as I said, all bets are off at this point.

As the show progresses, it seems (at least to me) that the source material becomes increasingly less pertinent. It's sort of a butterfly effect: in the early days, any divergence from the comic canon was significant simply by virtue of being different, as the makeup of the group and the circumstances in which they found themselves were still largely the same. Then Shane survived the Atlanta camp, and they decided to visit the CDC, and the divergences gradually snowballed until now the story has come to resemble less what first appeared in the comics and much more its own beast with a somewhat similar shape. That being the case, there's really no way to tell any more what will migrate over and what will fall by the wayside.

Whichever direction they choose at this latest intersection, I think Tyrese is meant to be a big part of it. It's already obvious that the writers are working hard to make him not just likeable but admirable; even in his limited screen time thus far, Tyrese has proven to be calm, perceptive, even-tempered and infinitely reasonable, not to mention perfectly capable in combat situations. And it would certainly appear that Rick would do well to start sharing some of the burden of responsibility, as the stress of leadership continues to push him closer to the breaking point.

Then there's Woodbury, where their leader has already sprinted well past the breaking point and is somewhere out in the no man's land beyond, building a campfire and sharpening sticks for a weenie roast. I loved the various symptoms of his madness this week, from the half-smile that appeared on his face in the arena when he realized they were being attacked again, to the scene in the street after the zombie attack and the brilliant way he trudged out like a sulky teen to shoot the guy in the head, everyone else just standing speechless and staring. And the saddest part is that the citizens are so clueless, they'll still follow him. They've either completely forgotten what things are like outside Woodbury's walls or have been holed up there since the beginning and simply don't realize the way the world has changed, as evidenced by how anxious they are to leave after the attack, their cars all piled with luggage like they're going on vacation. It would almost be funny if it weren't so tragic.

Fortunately, there are still a couple of marginally sane people around, however deluded they may be. I continue to struggle with Andrea's place in all this, as she persists in coming across more like a plot device than a reasonable human being. It's difficult for me to understand why she would feel more beholden to these people – none of whom she knows from more than a handful of exchanged pleasantries – than to the group with which she traveled for so long. But then again, she was also making plans to strike out on her own when they were camped at Hershel's farm, too. I'm sure there's an end point, but I'll be damned if I can see it.

What are your thoughts on Miss The Governor and her place in the inevitable conflict to come?

Nikki: Oh Andrea. You’ve kinda replaced Carl as our go-to Annoying Person. So, to briefly recap Andrea, about 30 minutes before this episode began, she’d walked into the Governor’s room and saw:

-her (now former) best friend sticking a sword through the Guv’s eye

-a dead mini-walker on the floor

-zombie heads floating in some sort of fluid, being kept alive

Let’s just pause and read that last one again. Got it? Good.

And she

-realizes Michonne got him just in time

-screams and runs for her life

-has an understandable moment of confusion before seeing the Governor for the sick fuck he is

-holds a gun to Michonne’s head and helps out her new boyfriend while Michonne, hurt and angry, leaves

Not exactly the decision-maker of the year.

Then she watches the Guv’nah pit two brothers together in a ring, quickly unravel in front of the audience, and turn into a soulless animal who differs from the walkers only by smell (and a tad less rottage).

Does she turn tail and run? Nope. She tries to talk some sense into him. She stays at Woodbury. She becomes a pseudo leader of the people (you can already see the Guv doesn’t like that). And she seems to be in it for the long haul. As  you say, she has no connections to these people, but maybe that’s just Andrea. She just followed the other survivors but didn’t get close to them, and I doubt she shed any tears when she lost track of them. She turned her back on Michonne without a second glance. So why she’s sticking by this sicko come hell or high water is beyond me. But the others were easy: he’s difficult. And maybe that’s what attracts her. She’s going to change him. Because every time a woman has decided to do THAT throughout history, it’s gone very well indeed.

This was clearly a transition episode. My husband watched it after I did, and he was kind of “meh” about it, but that’s what it’s supposed to be. Episode 8 ended in a cliffhanger, and episode 9 is meant to be the spark for the rest of the season. What will happen to Merle ’n’ Derle? What will happen to Tyrese and his people? What will happen to Woodbury, to the Governor, to Andrea? Will Rick EVER stop being a jerk to Michonne? Will Michonne ever feel an innate need to play along with others and, you know, TALK so Rick won’t get so frustrated with her? (By the way, the only scene in this episode I didn’t buy was Hershel poking Michonne and saying she’d gone into a very deep sleep. That woman never goes into a deep sleep, and has probably had no more than two consecutive hours of sleep in the past 18 months. There’s no way she wouldn’t have leapt off that bed and taken his other leg off just for touching her.)

This episode asked the questions, and now we get the rest of the episodes of the season to find the answers.

Josh, any last thoughts?

Joshua: Though I mentioned it earlier in an offhand comment, I'd be remiss if I didn't specifically address Hershel's role this week as resident guidance counselor and all-around voice of reason. Our favorite horse doctor continues to handle each and every situation with a delicate touch and preternatural insight, and I loved all of his exchanges this week. In particular, his words to Rick were always perfectly pitched, equal parts praising and prodding, and I can't reiterate often enough how glad I am that he's still alive. If anyone has the capacity to lead Rick back from the edge of madness, it's Mr. Greene.

Bits & Bobs:

-      Perhaps it was just poor framing, but the unruly mob of Woodburians screaming for double Dixon death in the opener seemed a lot smaller and less threatening to me this week than back at the end of the episode previous. Norman Reedus' panicked performance went a long way toward selling it, but the next time a scene calls for 'murderous,' the extras could definitely step it up a bit. (Also, casting director, I only live a very short drive away from the set. And excel at acting murderous. FYI.)

-       Dead right about the unlikelihood of Michonne sleeping through Hershel's crutch poke. My notes during that scene read, “Whoops – there goes his other leg.” And besides, haven't we been led to believe that Michonne processes her body's need for rest through her vocal cords, manifesting itself in temporary paralysis any time she's asked a pertinent question? I mean, duh.

-       I brought it up in a comment on your Facebook post yesterday, Nikki, but Carol's maroon pants tucked into those black ankle boots make her a dead ringer for a 1st-gen Starship Enterprise crewmember. Cross your fingers she never winds up in a red shirt.

That's all I've got, gang. See you all next week. (We're shooting for at least Thursday...)

How to Define a Doctor Who Fan...

Another of the many reasons why I love The Bloggess.

Book #1: Marbles by Ellen Forney

As I said in yesterday's post, I'm going to keep track here of the books that I read in 2013, and see if I can make it to 25. (For all I know, I've already been making it to that number, but I just don't keep track!)

I said in that post that I would count graphic novels as proper books, and lo and behold, I'm starting the year with one. Marbles by Ellen Forney is an extraordinary look at bipolar disorder (also called manic depression), told by someone who has it. This is a memoir that moves from Forney's diagnosis in the mid-90s, and takes you through the following 15 years of her life, the ups and downs, the confusion and regret, and the constant battle with medications.

At first she delights in her manic episodes, thinking it helps her reach new creative peaks. Like a constant bolt of adrenalin, her manic behaviour pushes her to do more and more, and be wilder and wilder with her goals. Throughout it all she has a wonderful psychiatrist working with her, urging her to take medication. But she has one deep fear: as an artist, wouldn't taking medication stifle her creativity? I mean, if Michelangelo and Van Gogh and hundreds of artists throughout history are now widely assumed to have been bipolar — and were unmedicated — shouldn't she join their ranks? Shouldn't she embrace the manic side of her life and learn to live with it, unmedicated?

Her psychiatrist gently explains to her that yes, those people were unmedicated, and most of them committed suicide, too.

Unfortunately, when you're up, there's only one direction to go next, and when she hits bottom, she hits rock bottom. Over several pages you can feel the darkness descend over her life. Frame after frame of the book shows her as nothing but a ball, curled up under a blanket on the couch, unable to move or do anything. Her paranoia begins building, and eventually she gives in and tries the meds. We watch her swing from one extreme to the other as her body adjusts, rejects, adjusts, and rejects one med after another, until finally, after a decade, she finds the perfect combo. AND finds a place where she can be as creative as she wants to be, and doesn't feel like her mind is a fog.

This book is amazing. If you are lucky enough not to suffer from bipolar disorder, you probably know someone who does, and this is an excellent book not just for readers in general, who will delight in her story and gorgeous illustrations, but for anyone who is worried about a loved one, or, most importantly, those suffering from the disease. There is hope, and Forney's is the only book I've ever read on bipolar disorder that unequivocally lays that out for readers. Highly recommended.

OK, your turn. In the comments below, tell me about the first book you read this year!

25 Books in 2013

So. Every year a friend of mine begins a new group on Facebook encouraging people to read 25 books in [whatever year this happens to be]. And every year I enthusiastically begin by including my first four or five books that I've read. And then I wonder, what about manuscripts I'm working on but won't be published until next year? Can't mention them yet, because obviously that doesn't help people look them up if they're interested. So I don't post them. And then I forget to post them when the books are out.

At some point around March or so, I forget to add in a few, and then I can't remember what book #6 or #7 was, and I just give up. I try to add a few of them to Goodreads, where I keep a dusty and not-very-well-used account, and then... well, you know. In the meantime I watch friends piling up the books they're reading, and watch the 25 Books in [whatever year this happens to be] building and building as people reach the lofty #25 goal and then move on to #26, #27, and beyond. (I shake my fist at those crazy kids, remembering a time long ago when I was able to read so much!)

When we moved in August, I put books on my bookshelves that I'd put on my bookshelves in the last move, and some in the move previous to that 12 years ago... and they hadn't been read then and they haven't been read now. What. The hell. I sit surrounded by these shelves every day (they're surrounding me right now), and think if I could do anything, it would be sitting down to read those books. NOT watching TV, not going to the movies, not going outside to do anything, just finding a day with an empty house and sitting and reading.

But then I remember I really need to clean that living room. And the kitchen. And I did the laundry, but it's still sitting in the dryer. And I'm never alone in the house. And I can set the Saturday morning alarm for 6:30 to try to curl up on the couch and read, but my daughter is up at 6 on Saturdays to hit the Family channel before anyone else is up (Monday to Friday, you're pushing her out of bed at 7:30, but come weekends...). And, well, I REALLY need to clear off some of the stuff on the PVR. And I've watched some of that season of that show, but not all of it, and I need to return the DVDs to the library. And while I already watched that other show, a bunch of people have asked me to blog on it. And I haven't blogged in a while, so I really should. And I've been editing all day and my eyes are kind of sore and tired. Or I didn't edit enough today and so I should work for a couple of hours before going to bed (the joys of working at home). And while I took grad school English lit, and I'm a writer, and an editor, for god's sakes, I am such a slow reader. No, really. Molasses slow. I've always loved words — the look of them on the page, the details — and since I was a teenager I've read very slowly and carefully, committing every detail to memory. So, it takes me a while.

Oh, and did I mention the kids walking into the room every three seconds? See, a mom sitting on the couch with a book signals a mom who isn't doing anything. Dad can disappear, but not Mom.

The other night a friend of mine was over, someone I hadn't seen in close to 20 years (yowza) and when my husband and I started bombarding him with TV shows he should be watching, he said, "You know, I'm really trying to read more." And I said, sarcastically, "Read?! Pfft. Who does that anymore??" Of course, it's what I've been trying to do more of for years.

But this year, I'm going to make a serious effort. In fact, I already have. I just finished Books #4 AND #5 today (yes, I tend to read more than one at the same time; always have...) And then I'm going to post here when I finish. It might be super short, it might be very long. But I'll say something. And maybe some of you can join in. When I post my #1 (tomorrow, since I have five books to catch you up on!), you can post your #1s in the comments. Then you can post your #2 book of the year under mine. Don't worry... it's doubtful I'll get ahead of you. Far more likely that you'll be stockpiling books waiting for me to get the hell to #10 since you're almost at #17. We can switch off books — give me some of your best suggestions, and I can promise my reading is eclectic (a friend of mine started suggesting books for my best friend instead of for me because, as she put it, "I can't quite figure out your taste anymore!").

I include graphic novels as legit reading materials, by the way. I know some people say you can breeze through them in one sitting and therefore they shouldn't count, but that's not how I read graphic novels. I tend to get so caught up in the details of the pictures that I can sit and stare at the visuals on the pages longer than I would have if the pages had been filled with text. And graphic novels have contained some of the most heart-wrenching and funny stories I've ever read. (See Y: The Last Man, for starters.) SO... they count.

I'm sure to many of you, 25 is nothing. So I'm aiming for higher. But for now, I'm going to say 25 because that's about one every two weeks, and, well, life is crazy and wonderful, and I'm not going to add one more stress to it. Since moving to London, Ontario, I've joined three book clubs, so if nothing else motivates me, that certainly will. But you guys have always been amazing motivators, too.

And by the way, I have been watching 1970s Doctor Who, have seen a ton of films, and just finished season 2 of Sons of Anarchy, and have watched THE MOST AMAZING documentary I've ever seen and I MUST tell you about all of it!!! But... let's hit the books first. I'll get around to that other stuff eventually. Maybe even talk about the end of Fringe just around the time everyone's forgotten what it was about.

So who's with me?

Fringe Finale

From "White Tulip," season 2, episode 18:

WALTER: I, too, attempted the unimaginable, and I succeeded. I crossed into another universe, and took a son that wasn't mine. And since then, not a day has passed without me feeling the burden of that act. I'm going to tell you something that I have never told another soul. Until I took my son from the other side, I had never believed in God. But it occurred to me... that my actions had betrayed him and that everything that had happened to me since was God punishing me. So now I'm looking for a sign of forgiveness. I've asked God for a sign of forgiveness. A specific one, a white tulip.

ALISTAIR PECK: Tulips don't bloom this time of year -- white or otherwise.

WALTER: But he's God. And if God can forgive me for my acts then maybe... it's in the realm of possibility that my son, possibly, may be able to forgive me too.

Fringe: A Love Story

Tonight Fringe comes to an end. For five seasons, this show has entertained its tiny, loyal audience, and somehow achieved the impossible: surviving on FOX without being cancelled. Clearly someone high up loves this show as much as we do.

Why do so few people watch it? I think they're afraid of the fact it's a "sci-fi show." And why do the rest of us love it as much as we do? Well, because it's so much more than a sci-fi show (as almost all sci-fi shows are).

Fringe, as I've said here many times, is a story about love. It's a show, like Lost and so many other shows of the 21st century, about the connections we have with others. But while Lost was content to show us that everyone is connected, Fringe explores what those connections mean and more importantly, what we are willing to do for those we love.

Season 1 began with a typical fringe-science-freakshow-of-the-week premise, where they found a problem, dealt with it, and moved on. But even then there was a sense that it was moving to something bigger. Like many people, I watched the first episode or two and then gave up. Too much science, not enough emotion. Boy, was I wrong. Thank goodness I came back.

Now, five years later, it's clear what Fringe is. It's a show about love: parental, romantic, filial, platonic. It's a show where a father loves his son so much he creates a catastrophic bridge between two universes to find him. Where he hates himself so much for what he's done that he literally has a piece of himself removed. It's a show where a race of superhumans can travel through time like the aliens in Slaughterhouse-Five to observe how their ancestors acted. Where one of these superhumans defies his own unemotional nature to become attached to the Bishop family, saving Peter's life as his father crosses him from one universe to the next, thereby driving a hole through time that would destroy one universe while another one slowly disintegrated.

It's a show where that son would grow up and love a woman so deeply that he would cross over through the ether to show her he loved her, where he could tell the difference between her and her alt-universe copy and love only one. It's a show where these two people would find each other in a world beyond our world, beyond death, beyond any understanding, and come together once again. Where they would create a daughter who would bring them together and then explode them apart when she is taken during the Earth's invasion of the Observers (circa 2015), and where they would freeze themselves in time just to find her 20 years later, and help her overthrow the superhumans. Where their love is not only just for each other anymore: it's for all of humanity.

And I have this terrible feeling that they're not all going to make it. There is nothing in the world that Walter Bishop loves more than his son, Peter. And nothing Peter loves more than his wife, Olivia. And nothing she loves more than her daugher, Etta. They've already lost one, leaving Olivia a shred of her former self. And if they can follow the path that will lead them to the salvation of all humanity — moving to a point in time where they can make it so the Observers never existed — then does that mean that the history of humanity will play itself out without the interference of the Observers? Will Walter still create a bridge to steal a son... but lose him in the ice?

Fringe began as a show about a group of scientists and agents who were intent on helping save the world from nasty things. And they grew into a group of people who were intent on finding each other and saving their relationships. Now, they must try to save the world without losing each other in the process.

If you have not watched Fringe, I urge you to go to season 1, make it through those first episodes (don't worry, they will add up to something by the end of the season), and watch the most exquisite love story unfold before your eyes. There is nothing these people won't do to save each other. And that's what makes their fate so terrifying... and yet so beautiful.

Doctor... Who?

I told a story on my Facebook page at the beginning of December that I'd had a phone call with my mother, who subscribes to magazines full of British merchandise. She wanted to know if my brother would like a cookie jar with The Who on it.

"The Who? As in, the band?" I asked.
"I think so? It's a blue... police box, it says."
"Wait, Doctor Who?"
"Oh yes, that's it."
"No, he wouldn't be interested, but I would!"

Well, did this ever make HER happy. She had a whole magazine full of stuff related to this show, and as usual, was ready to buy me every single item in there. (My husband spent the next few weeks talking her out of most of it.) I told her in the same phone call that actually, I didn't want a cookie jar, but the salt and pepper shakers. She flipped through the magazine and said, "Oh, the... turdis and... day-lick?" "YES, the turdis and daylick!" I said.

So on Christmas Day, here's what I got from her:

Mom's comment on the shirt: "I have no idea
what that means, but I was told if you watch Doctor
Who, you'll get it." 

Very exciting! I got my salt and pepper shakers, which made me very happy (especially the packaging; check out what's on the box):

The Epic Struggle for the Balance of Taste! (HA!)

And there was a teapot, too!

I checked, and it was difficult to say if it's bigger on the inside:

I'll have to make some tea to find out.

The calendar has the first 11 Doctors in order, which is very cool because I'm watching Classic episodes now and am on the Fourth Doctor, so I hope I can keep ahead of the month where the new Doctor appears (Hartnell is on my wall now). All of them appear in December.

But let's just say, I have a new reason to look forward to October:

Next year, maybe I'll get a sonic screwdriver!