Adrift

Coincidentally, episode 11 of season 2 of Torchwood has the same title as one of my recent short stories, one that will be published in an anthology of Atlantic Canadian tales this fall. The stories bear no resemblance beyond the title, which contains within it the key element of the story, the rift. I liked this episode a lot more than the previous. It stumbles upon the obvious truth, that the rift isn’t just dropping things off in Cardiff. The story arc defies the conventional path and ends with a profound truism that goes against common logic: sometimes not knowing is better. Some very good scenes between Gwen and Rhys, too.

The three Monday night comedies were okay, not outstanding. Ted’s two-minute date at the end of HIMYM was utterly brilliant, though. There was a bit of dialog that piqued my interest. The woman doctor is overheard saying that she was at a Saint Patrick’s Day party and left early. Last week “old” Ted tells his children that he later found out that their mother had been at that party. A clue or a tease?

I started reading His Illegal Self by Peter Carey. I’ve read a couple of his previous novels, including My Life as a Fake and Theft, and each time I tell myself I’m done, but then the publisher sends me the next one and I decide to try it out. Carey’s picture is next to “literary fiction” in the dictionary, and sometimes he exercises some of that style’s most annoying and self-indulgent muscles. Often he captures me at the beginning and loses me at the end. This time I’m about three chapters in and not hooked yet, but I’m going to give it a chance.