The Cursed Child is probably the least interesting of the main characters in his titular play

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is a trash person. 

 

I saw Harry Potter and the Cursed Child in London in 2016. It was still in previews, a couple months before the script was published. This was a few days before the Brexit vote. I saw it again on Broadway, on February 29, 2020. I'm hoping that I saw it again this weekend isn't a portent. Or maybe that I saw the one-play version will bode better for me?

 

Here's my initial reaction, from 2016 (I held off on my thoughts until it officially opened for review by the press): 

So, as stated when I saw this a month ago, I really enjoyed the play. As some of these [reviews] say, the actual stagecraft was more impressive than the plot. The story itself was enjoyable (though I had a problem with one BIG plot point and one thing that contradicted the books).

 

It seems that the reviews largely ignore Harry's plot. In fairness, the action of the play revolves around Albus, Harry's son, but Harry's journey of dealing with what he went through at Hogwarts is present throughout the two plays. Those are the sections of the plays that I can't wait to read. There are loads of articles of "I grew up with Harry Potter" about kids who grew up reading him--and he was their contemporary. But now the man on stage is mine; we're the same age, and it's fascinating seeing him at that stage of life, dealing with his past and the traumas therein but also dealing with parenthood and a job full of paperwork.

 

The play will be interesting to read, and I imagine people won't enjoy the script as much as audiences enjoy the play. The stagecraft, as mentioned, is fantastic, and there's a lot of staging that was just so cool--and I don't mean the magic stuff. The movement of the actors was SO good. There were large chunks that were totally extraneous but really neat to watch, basically just of people moving around. (I was like, "I don't need 5 minutes of transition from Platform 9 3/4 to Hogwarts, but it's neat to watch, so...never mind.")

 

I do have to second whichever review(s?) highlighted Scorpius. He's a well-drawn, nuanced character who is probably better formed than any of the other new characters.

 

In some ways, I do wish it had been a book. We're missing a lot, and not just by not knowing what people are thinking, but by missing the throwaway exposition about random characters. There's more about the world of Harry Potter in 2016 that I want to know.

Do I remember what plot points I had issues with? I do not. (I think it had something to do with Delphi's plan.) Anyway, this still pretty much stands. I was concerned that the move from two plays to one would mean losing a lot of those scenes of movement, but happily those bits are still in there. It's just very cool to watch; the effects and tricks are fantastic.

John Skelley and Emmet Smith as Harry and Albus Potter. Photo by Matthew Murphy.

Watching it, I didn't notice specific things missing, but I found myself thinking that there was more Harry in the original version. In a helpful rundown of the changes made, I found I was right. The two-play version, which is still playing in London, has a bunch of flashbacks from Harry's childhood as well as more scenes of adult Harry having nightmares. Which is a bummer, because as noted above, I really liked getting to know adult Harry and seeing how his incredibly traumatic childhood and adolescence affected him in adulthood. There are some other scenes about the adults that are missing, which is a shame, but I can't blame playwright Jack Thorne for wanting to focus on the titular cursed child.

The other change that I noticed was how they tweaked the relationship of Albus and Scorpius. It wasn't huge--just some adjusted language, mostly--but their relationship went from one where you could interpret it as romantic or not to one that is pretty clearly romantic, but in a way that makes complete sense for two adolescent boys. I thought that change was really well done.

Scorpius remains probably the most interesting character in the show. I thought that actor Aidan Close played it a bit too broadly and it bothered me, but when I mentioned it to my Bonus Sister, who I went with, she said she really liked it--he was such a contrast to the completely buttoned-up Draco, which was a fantastic observation.

Overall, Cursed Child remain an amazing show to experience. I totally understand people not wanting to see the show because they don't want to support Rowling; that's completely fair. Also, the story itself is a bit weak. But still, actually seeing it live is a great time. (I will say that I'd probably recommend doing so on Broadway, where there's a dedicated theater, which means that some effects are more immersive than what can be done in a touring production.)

Hallmark Movie Roundup: Following Yonder Star

Title: Following Yonder Star (2024)

Actor(s) You Know: 
Brooke D'Orsay, who has done a bunch of Hallmark movies, but whom I always think of from starring in Drop Dead Diva, the plot of which was that a model (D'Orsay) dies and is reincarnated into a plus-size lawyer

Plot: 
Abby was the star of a long-running tv show where she played a perfect mother/wife. After finding out her ex-husband is getting remarried, she has a minor meltdown in a store, which naturally goes viral. She heads off to Vermont to ride out the bad press, where she meets Nick, a widower who runs an inn, and helps him direct the Christmas pageant.

Trope(s):
    Royalty
    Alternate reality
    Small town ✔
    Fake relationship
    Family business getting sold/going bankrupt
    Enemies-to-lovers
    Best friends-to-lovers
    Second chance
    Stranded

Meet Cute: 
Abby wants to stay in the luxury spa, but accidentally booked for next year. The hotel clerk directs her to the small inn run by Nick, where there's a single room left.

Rundown:
    Dead parents ✔
    Montage(s) ✔
    Christmas-related name(s) ✔
    Animals
    Returns to hometown
    Is Santa a character? 
        Secretly or overtly?
    Cookie baking ✔
    Tree decorating
    Somebody hates Christmas
    Christmas festival in a small town ✔
    A literal competition
    Child plays matchmaker
    All work, no romance/life
    Kiss before the end of the movie
    Interrupted kiss ✔
    Flashback to childhood
    The leads literally run into each other
    Gratuitous shirtless scene
    Big Secret
    Wacky misunderstanding
    Someone pushing the leads together ✔
    Real family = chaos / bad families = cold and not chaotic
    Learns the meaning of Christmas
    Stranded by snowstorm
    Hot chocolate ✔ (though it's hot cider)
    Ice skating
    D-list celebrity
    Enemy-to-friend storyline
    The love interest is an ex
    Career change
    Lying to each other
    Tries to apologize, but keeps getting cut off
    Christmas pageant ✔
    End with a flash-forward

Did I actually like/root for the heroine? How do the lead(s) annoy me?
I actually did like Abby a lot. That initial meltdown truly wasn't that bad and she clearly is just minorly annoyed by it, not bemoaning that her life is over. She's aware this is something that's going to blow over quickly. I liked that Nick recognized her and clearly was like, "A celebrity!" in a way that seemed realistic. 

Is it in any way not completely generic? 
I mean, it had the Christmas pageant and a small town, but it was must less festival-focused than expected. I found it relatively original, and the conflict was pretty organic.

Is the BFF actually the best? Do they need their own movie?
There isn't really a BFF! There's a hotel clerk who works at both the spa and Nick's inn who pops up a couple times and Nick's sister-in-law, but not really any other side characters.

How is the romantic alternative wrong for the heroine? 
N/A. There's no romantic rival. (There does seem to be a woman who's interested in Nick, but Nick is clearly not interested.)

Thoughts/Other Notes:
I like how Abby uses some of the skills she picked up as an actress, both in working with children and also random skills she had to pick up for episodes. Nick's crush on Abby is adorable. And there were more musical theater references than I expected. Note: This is more explicitly Christian than most Hallmark Christmas movies. Many mentions of faith and how it's a part of the characters' lives.

Rating
🧀🧀🧀 (three cheese out of five, would re-watch) 

All the men--plus a 90s soundtrack

⭐⭐⭐⭐ 

More of a 3.5, but I rounded up because I liked the ending.

More of a coming-of-age/woman-finds-herself story than the woman-in-the-same-love-triangle-twice story it's billed as, All the Men I've Loved Again is the story of Cora. Split between the early 2000s, when Cora is in college, and 2021, we see Cora emerge from her shell and start to learn about love and life. Her first love is Lincoln, who she's with for most of college...but we see letters from Aaron a few years later.

It's not really a love triangle either time so much as it's about Cora trying to figure out who she is and what she wants. Cora struggles, having been raised by a single father, one of few Black students at her private school in Northern Virginia. She lacks confidence in herself as someone who can be in any kind of relationship--friendship or a romantic one. She finds friendship in college, and love as well.

I found the writing style to be a bit lacking at times, and I'm not sure how I feel about the introduction of Aaron to the story; we know from the beginning of the book that Cora is torn between Lincoln and Aaron (again), but we get the first letter from Aaron, hinting at romance, when Cora is happily together with Lincoln. I'm sure it was done that way to increase the drama, but I don't know how well it worked for me. Cora and Aaron's first encounter is so much briefer than her relationship with Lincoln; the emotions of it worked for me, but I think more time could've been spent there.

I will say that, without spoiling anything, Pride does a great job of showing how Cora interacts with both men and how that's a reflection of herself and how relationships can make people feel differently about themselves. I also loved the relationship of Cora and her father--Wes is a fully drawn-out figure who has his own relationships and this is done SO well. Cora's friends Kim and Neisha are also great, and I love how realistic their friendship felt, both in college and through later years.

To take a moment, though, to rant a bit (spoilers!): I am SO SO glad Cora didn't wind up with Lincoln. Even during college, even before the abortion and before he cheated, their relationship just seemed off. He talked, she listened. Everything was all about him. I was incredibly concerned that this would be a First Love Is Forever! book. Honestly, I would've been OK if Cora had wound up single. I do think Pride did a good job of showing the difference in connection between Aaron and Cora and Lincoln and Cora; from the beginning with Aaron, Cora opens herself up and they truly connect. I think Cora is somewhat to blame for how her relationship with Lincoln developed; she was so unsure of herself and amazed to find herself in a relationship. And I get it! But I spent a lot of the book just very concerned about how it would end, because a life with Lincoln would be bad for Cora.

Worth a read, and not just because at one point Cora lives in Silver Spring.

Many thanks to NetGalley and Atria Books for the advance copy in exchange for my unbiased review!

Rebellions are built on hope

My sister is a big Star Wars fan, so I grew up surrounded by the original trilogy. I don't particularly remember sitting down to watch the movies that often, but watching them now, I sure can recite an awful lot of the dialogue. Which came in handy, because my husband is also a big Star Wars fan. We haven't watched all of the various Star Wars properties, but we've watched quite a few.

After the first season of Andor came out, everyone raved about it, saying it was one of the best Star Wars-related properties in years. So naturally we watched it; we just finished the second season (and naturally had to finish off Cassian's story with Rogue One.) 

After watching the first season, I remember thinking that I liked it well enough--I mean, Diego Luno is fantastic--but wasn't as over the moon about it as some people. And that remains true after the second season, which I did like quite a bit. There were some plotlines that I wasn't particularly interested in (i.e., pretty much anything with Mon Mothma, though I did like the wedding; Saw, who I honestly had forgotten about being in Rogue One; that weird bit with Cassian in the group of random rebels early in season two, which I assume is Making a Statement about the looseness of the rebellion) and it felt like bits could be tightened up.

I spent a lot of time watching the second season and thinking about when this must've been written--ages ago, given the amount of time it takes to revise, film, do post-production, etc.--and how incredibly resonant it is for today's world. And I got frustrated thinking about the number of people watching this series who voted for Trump who can reconcile that (or, honestly, just not even think about it) while rooting for Cassian and Mon. It felt like the show was ripped from today's headlines, with the news that Syril's mother watches and the protests on Ghorman and how they were framed by the government and the reaction to the massacre there and the checking of papers on whatever planet that was where Bix was hiding out. It honestly felt too on-the-nose at times for me, to the point that I was distracted from the actual show.

Hopefully there are people who watched it and thought about it and thought about what the creators of Andor were trying to say about our own current political situation, and how tenuous a time it is we live in. Sadly, I wound up mostly thinking about sure, Cassian helped to bring down the Death Star. But they built another. And even after that was destroyed, the Empire rose again (much as people want to not think about Episodes 7 through 9) (OK, not think about Episodes 8 and 9; The Force Awakens was dope).

Rebellions are built on hope. Sometimes it's hard to find some. It does help knowing that there are people like Cassian and Mon and even Luthen out there. 

A sequel that should've stayed home

⭐⭐ 

I'm bummed I didn't like The Guncle Abroad more. Five years after Patrick watched his niece and nephew for the summer following their mother's death, he's back to watch the kids in Europe before their dad's wedding in Italy, with new lessons to teach the kids.

The writing just felt very clunky throughout. After a discussion with his agent about when sequels are acceptable, Patrick takes the kids around Europe for the first chunk of the book, which I was excited for; he got them Eurail passes and I was in. This wound up only meaning London (where Patrick was finishing up a film role), Paris, Salzburg, and Venice and it felt like they had maybe a day in each place; I didn't feel the multiple weeks they traveled. I wanted more! And there were odd little travelogue segments:

Paris was known for many things, world-class museums, towering monuments and cathedrals from every era that were renowned the world over. The highest-class gastronomy in dimly lit restaurants and robust coffee on the sun-dappled terraces of the city's many cafes. History and architecture, not to mention fashion: Chanel, Saint Laurent, Vuitton, Dior, Hermes. The city was famous for its pastry and macarons in sumptuous colors and the mellifluous sound of street buskers with big instruments and even bigger dreams. Catacombs, parks, bridges, romance, greenery, strolls along the River Seine--Paris had it all.. (pp. 70-71)

As they approached the city, Livia explained that Milan was the fashion capital of Italy, if not the world, and had been since the 1960s when Vogue Italia chose it as the location for their headquarters. The region already had a rich history of producing its own textiles, but after Vogue landed, brands such as Dolce & Gabbana, Armani, Moschino, Valentino, and Versace all coalesced to make Milan their home, too. The city was an amalgamation of past and present, set against the breathtaking natural backdrop of the Italian Alps. The third largest church in the world, the stunning Duomo de Milano, shared the skyline with modern skyscrapers making the whole city a contrast, and yet seamlessly, perfectly, stylishly itself. Much like fashion. Hard lines and thick textiles merged to create the most feminine beauty, while soft fabrics draped in goddess-like ways could make a woman feel like the most powerful warrior. (p. 185)

Like, I'm not against reading books to imagine I'm somewhere else. Maybe I could handle these more if the characters spent more time in the cities Rowley is describing. But mostly it doesn't work because the characters themselves aren't responding to it. There's a great moment in Paris where they go up to Sacre Coeur and look over the city and it's fantastic. That's all that's needed! I don't need flowery prose about a city; just give me those moments with the characters.

That said, I actually don't know that I wound up wanting to spend more time with Patrick. He grated a bit in the first book, but here it was just in overdrive, possibly because there wasn't really anyone around to combat it. Getting a book from entirely his point of view made me realize I didn't particularly like him. I also found his "rivalry" with Palmina, the "launt" (lesbian aunt) dumb. (At least he knew it was immature, but that didn't stop it from being a recurring theme.)

I thought the plotline with the kids could've been handled better. They're understandably nervous about their father getting married, particularly Maisie, who's 14. That's a rough time to be dealing with that kind of life change. So while I was annoyed with her at times, I understood her. What I didn't understand is how Patrick handled (or didn't) her concerns. The idea was there, but it didn't really click for me and I got increasingly frustrated.

And the ending was super drawn out. It just. kept. going.

Ultimately, it seems a lot of people enjoyed this book a lot, which is great! I should've given it a skip, though.

Singing the song of angry men

I bought tickets for Les Mis at the Kennedy Center last August. I missed it the last time it came through DC; I had put off getting tickets, foolishly assuming they'd be available closer to when it got to town. Pretty much the entire run was sold out, which caught me off guard; obviously I love Les Mis (it's the best!), but I didn't realize how popular it still is. Little did I know the controversy there would be over this run.

There's been a decent amount of discussion of Trump's affection for Les Mis (and Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals), with people wondering (validly) how he could possibly miss, you know, the point of the show. People tend to focus on the plot of the student uprising of 1832. Trump and his followers clearly see themselves as being analogous to the students and critics are understandably like, "???" 

In thinking about the lyrics to the show, though, it's noticeable that we don't get a lot about what exactly the students are rising against. There's a reference to Lamarque ("the people's man") speaking "for the people here below." The students are rising against the government, fighting the army. Knowing what we know about Victor Hugo, we know who he would--and wouldn't--support in today's politics. But Trump's supporters seem themselves as the downtrodden. I'm not surprised that they think Enjolras is on their side. Politico has a really interesting article about all this.

Josh Davis and Nick Cartell. Photo by Matt Murphy.

But what I want to focus on is the rest of the show. Because that is what I think about when I have the "How can Trump not understand this show?!" thought. Les Mis is about a man who breaks the law for a good reason and then breaks parole and goes on to lead an exemplary life, all the while being chased by someone whose rigid view of the world doesn't allow him to see nuance in people. Javert kills himself because he cannot reconcile a world where a criminal is actually a good person. 

The way the government is functioning right now is all black-and-white thinking. It's Javert. Something is Good or it is Bad and no further thought is needed. I'd say the overarching theme of Les Misérables is the importance of love ("And remember the truth that once was spoken: To love another person is to see the face of God") and compassion ("You must use this precious silver to become an honest man"), and then the fight against social injustice. And that is what the Trump administration is missing.

Also, Trump is clearly Thenardier, the most morally repugnant character in the story.

I am more of a succulent keeper

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

An excellent book, following the life of Rosalie Iron Wing, a Dakhota woman. Raised by her father in a cabin in Minnesota, she winds up with a white foster family when he suddenly dies. The book is largely her story, periodically interspersed with that of her friend Gaby Makespeace and Marie Blackbird, forced away from her home in the 1860s.

I tend to not necessarily do well with more contemplative books and I was a bit concerned, because a bunch of the book is Rosalie alone in a cabin, coming to terms with the grief over her husband and father and family she never had. And as the title suggests, the importance of seeds and growing and connection to the land is intrinsic to the story, and I...do not have a green thumb, nor particularly have ever felt that connection. However, Wilson manages to balance the book's reflection with plot in a way that hit the sweet spot for me.

Rosalie takes a bit to warm up to (I think having those chapters from Gaby's perspective were key), but throughout the book, you get to know her and her story and she grew on me. The book references the horror of the Indian Boarding Schools, but they're not a focus, though their impact is felt through the generations. Wilson deftly handled the tension between Rosalie and her husband about how to farm; while aching for Rosalie and her attachment to the land and the river, Wilson doesn't write off John's thoughts completely (though their story was so depressing; I was saddened at the progression of their marriage but appreciate its journey).

Before reading this (and yes, I know, but I haven't read Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants), I would've scoffed a bit at the idea of a seed keeper and the importance of seeds, even while being intrigued by the Svalbard Global Seed Vault. After? I understand it much more.

Highly recommend. (And then you should go watch Reservation Dogs if you haven't already.)

Favorite quotes:

He said forgetting was easy. It's the remembering that wears you down. (p. 21)

"Did we--did I--make the right decisions about Thomas? I only wanted the best for him. More than I had."
I was silent. I had certainly asked myself the same question about Thomas. As parents, how do any of us answer it? Especially when we struggle with our own challenges, not realizing when we're young how much the past has shaped us, how we carry our parents' sorrow and that of the generations that came before them? (p. 223)

 

And no one heard at all not even the chair

⭐⭐⭐ 

Dave Barry's memoir was tough to rate. I grew up reading Dave Barry. I owned many of his books (I still own four, and that was a vast paring-down) and read them many, many times. I got to interview him when I did a story about Gene Weingarten for a writing class and it was an absolute thrill for me. (He was lovely, and in retrospect I appreciate that he took the time to talk to me, someone who was just doing a class assignment, not even something that would be published.) He liberally quotes from his own material throughout this book and I recognized a lot of it.

That both is and isn't a complaint, but it did ultimately bump this from a 3.5 to a 3. This book is called a memoir. We get chapters on his family (which is genuinely illuminating) and education, but a lot of the book covers his career. I liked some of the more behind-the-scenes stuff when he discussed his writing, particularly about how in the 1980s, a humor journalist could, for example, rent a helicopter for a few hours in New York to get a particular photo--without prior approval. A lot of the names are familiar to me, many because they eventually wound up at The Washington Post and getting glimpses into the logistics of his work was enjoyable. The story of him finding out he won the Pulitzer was adorable. And while I vaguely knew about his early, pre-humor column career, I enjoyed learning more.

That said, I felt like reasonably large chunks of this were rehashes of things that he wrote about over the years. The kinds of stories he wrote, the things his readers were passionate about (did I wind up with the Neil Diamond song "I Am, I Said" in my head? I did), some highlights over the years. I mean, true, I didn't know about his involvement in the popularization of Talk Like a Pirate Day (though I'm not particularly surprised by it). But a lot of the book felt almost like an annotated greatest hits to me.

Which I'm honestly not totally against! Like I said, I read a LOT of his stuff growing up and it was nostalgic to re-read. I had forgotten about Judi (who I believe he referred to as his research department), and was delighted when he mentioned Earnest (his dog) and Zippy (his small back-up dog). I always loved his dog columns. And his columns about book tours, which he mentions here. He also does discuss his post-column career of writing fiction, including a fun story about a trip to Russia.

I didn't love his chapter on politics. I did like the first part of the chapter, where he wrote about being sent to cover primaries and conventions and what the actual experience was like for him and other journalists. But once he got into the specific elections...pass. Particularly his concluding belief that the problem is that journalists were too hard on Trump (who, for the record, he does not like); he's one of those who thinks that the media leaned too anti-Trump and it turned people off. He does mention the other argument--namely, that journalists who were anti-Trump went too easy on him in an attempt to appear fair, which firmly is where I land--but doesn't think it. And honestly, I didn't want or need any discussion of Trump in this book.

What I did want was more insight into Barry's actual life. Early in the book, after the chapter on school, he mentions getting married, then says he's been married three times, takes the blame for his divorces, and then says that he's not going to talk about his marriages. He mentions briefly the birth of his son Rob (and gave a life update on him, which I appreciated, having read a bunch about him growing up), but his personal life is basically not a part of this memoir at all. He mentions things like moving and picking job offers and there's just nothing about what anything meant for him as a person. We get a little insight into his decision to retire from his weekly column, but that's about it. I kind of get it, but also, I spent years reading about his wife Beth, so I was bummed. I don't need the sordid details, but just more about his non-work life.

It comes down to me wanting this to include more of Dave Barry, the person, and less Dave Barry, the humor columnist. Still, if you're a fan of his, you'll enjoy this walk down memory lane.

Better and worse and better and worse

I've realized as I've gotten older that one of the reasons I enjoy history is that I find it comforting. Recently, reading about the turbulence of the late 1960s and early 1970s has been reassuring to me. I'm not saying that our Current Circumstances are better than they were then--they're definitely not--but the fact that the country managed to recover to some semblance of normalcy has helped keep me sane. (I try to ignore that it also brought us Ronald Reagan.)

I know very little about Hunter S. Thompson. I never read nor saw Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas; all I could tell you, basically, is that he was a writer, a counterculture figure who used a lot of drugs, and that I recognized his signature look. So I wasn't particularly looking forward to The Untitled Unauthorized Hunter S. Thompson Musical at Signature Theatre.

The play follows Hunter (Eric William Morris) as he grows up, becomes a writer, marries Sandy (Tatiana Wechsler), pioneers Gonzo journalism, gets famous, feuds with Richard Nixon (George Abud), and eventually has his life catch up with him. 

The cast of The Untitled Unauthorized Hunter S. Thompson Musical. 
(c) Daniel Rader

My takeaway is that I loved the show but have no desire to read this man's writing. He himself comes across as an asshole. But the story is told so well, the music is great, the staging is compelling, and the acting is fantastic. (My standout is George Salazar, who plays Oscar [the guy he traveled with in Fear and Loathing] among other characters. His "Song of the Brown Buffalo" is fabulous and my eyes were always drawn to him.) (My backup standout is Abud as Nixon. He looks nothing like Nixon but still manages to convey Nixon in a way that's not just a Nixon imitation.) Hunter S. Thompson the person does not seem like someone I could handle; as a character, he's fascinating.

But what hooked me is Thompson's convictions about the country and the direction of the country. So much of the play hits home in 2025--the desire for a better country, where people have the support they need and can love who they want and can just be who they want to be. Knowing that these people tried in the 60s and didn't succeed...what could this world look like?

Joe Iconis, who did the music and lyrics, said in an interview in the production's program, "I made it my mission to get to the heart of the issues that have plagued our nation for the last ten, twenty, thirty, one-hundred years. The more I pulled my focus out, the more I realized that no matter the specifics of the latest atrocity, we'd been there before." 

The song that will stick with me is "Wavesong," the Act One closer:

They say the universe arcs toward justice

I call bullshit on that

No, the universe moves in cycles

It will surge then curtail

You submerge or you sail

Tide is high and then it's not

Angels fly high and then they're shot

It gets better and worse and better and worse and better

It gets better and worse and better and worse

Face the storm and be brave

And sail toward the next wave

(Lyrics by Joe Iconis)

I also loved how the show handled writing. Hunter was hooked on great writing as a child; he retyped The Great Gatsby so he would know how it felt to write those sentences. We see his activism and his passion and his drug usage, but the show is also about legacy, and for Hunter S. Thompson, his legacy is his writing and how that writing continues to affect people today, 20 years after his death.

The legacy of Aldo Kelrast lives

Back when I got The Washington Post daily, one thing I did every day, even if I didn't glance at the majority of the paper, was read the comic strips. Back in ye olden days, I started reading The Comics Curmudgeon, which is still going strong and still a great read. Josh introduced me to a number of comic strips and frequently covers the somehow still-ongoing legacy strips that are comic strip soap operas. I ignore most of them, but for some reason have become engrossed by Mary Worth.

Mary Worth is a classic soap opera. Storylines are bonkers and also take forever. For example, it's wrapping up a storyline that began in early March. The strip is set in Florida, I think; Mary Worth is an older lady lives in a condo complex called Charterstone and storylines mostly revolve around hijinks of the other residents; she usually pops up to give advice. Sometimes the storyline revolves around her (most famously in the days of her stalker Aldo Kelrast [yes, his last name is an anagram of "stalker"]), but usually not. The sad sack who frequently takes the spotlight is Wilbur Weston--balding, overweight, living alone with a fish, but somehow also the writer of an advice column called "Ask Wendy." His love life often provides fodder for the strip. He's kind of awful, but still manages to get a lot of girlfriends, so kudos to you, Wilbur!

In this current storyline, Wilbur recently took a vacation to Cancun, where he found a ladyfriend named Belle. Belle then shows up at Wilbur's doorstep and promptly tries to kill Wilbur's daughter Dawn, eat Wilbur's fish Willa, and then try to kill Wilbur and Dawn after Wilbur got upset at the potential fish-eating. Wilbur and Dawn were saved at the last moment when Belle's brother shows up to take her away, saying she's gone off her meds. The best part of this is that her brother looks exactly like Wilbur, just slightly taller and slightly thinner. It's amazing. Dawn comments on it, but...that's it. Dawn and Wilbur then spend a week consoling each other (Dawn is just coming out of a brief abusive relationship herself). 

I'm not sure if other legacy comics strips go this hard. But there are enough storylines like this in Mary Worth that even now, long after giving up my daily Washington Post, after giving up my weekly Post as well, I will invariably go to ComicsKingdom.com to see what's going on. I never really watched soap operas growing up, other than a couple seasons of Sisters, if that counts. I guess this is how I make up for it. A guilty pleasure? Sure. I love that it's still being made in the year of our Lord 2025.

If you want a really deep dive into this, including an interview with Mary Worth's current writer and artist, you need to check out this entry on The Comics Journal. 

“I do find that readers seems to enjoy the... wackier stories more?” [writer Karen] Moy told me. “I think Wilbur is a character that readers both love and hate. He’s kind of like George Costanza in Seinfeld, where readers are fascinated by him, but they can’t stand him. Some readers said that they would like to see him killed off three times a year. What fascinates people about this particular story is just Wilbur himself.” 

I can't argue with that, honestly.