Having recently rented and watched (and enjoyed) Kenneth Branagh's adaptation of Death on the Nile, I'm now officially back on a Poirot kick but in book form. I'm also limiting my use of digital devices and sticking to print copies of Agatha Christie's books so as not to be tempted away from said devices (or device in my case since I no longer have my Kindle e-reader and only use the app on my phone) by neighboring apps. I got copies of Hallowe'en Party and the complete Poirot short stories from used book sellers and am set to check out And Then There were None and Dumb Witness (this one was one of my favorite episodes from the David Suchet series) from the local library.
I'm hoping to borrow The ABC Murders once the library's copies are available and will place a hold once I'm done with the two.
My dependence on an e-reader app is easing up gradually. Amazon offers occasional specials on their Kindle Unlimited subscription service, and I take advantage of them whenever I feel like it. I'm not one for KU both as a reader and a writer. I honestly don't like limiting readers' options when it comes to where they can buy my books, and judging from my monthly statements, it's proving to be a smart move since folks are spoiled for choice, and Kobo is beating Amazon every time. So is Hoopla, in fact, and I'm really pleased that readers are taking advantage of that service.
Of course those KU deals have an expiration, and I'm always keeping one eye on the calendar (though Amazon will send you a reminder a week before the expiration happens) and find myself much more likely to DNF a book that's not holding my interest. Not a good thing as a reader since I'm not giving writers a fair shake, but it's the effect of a subscription service deal on me ("I only have X time to discover and enjoy new books! Aw, shit!"). And if I do run across a new writer whose book(s) I devour via KU, I'll be buying their books to read and keep in the future.
And the sad effect of this mindset is that none of the books stick with me, and if I were to try to borrow them again via another subscription deal, I discover I've read that book before but remember nothing about it. Whereas the books I buy, I take my time with and still remember bits of their plots regardless of whether or not I end up loving them. I'm now finding this thing to be true with other subscription services. Like Netflix, which for the longest time I depended on for my home entertainment but now barely touch. We're thinking of canceling our subscription in a few months depending on our bill payment situation, but if we do, I'm not going to lose sleep over it.
Renting movies on occasion is now fulfilling that visual escapist need, and I really don't find it necessary to be bombarded with hundreds of options every time I get on Netflix. I'm not a voracious viewer, if you will, and I'll now more likely watch a film / one-shot than invest time on a series, no matter how long. Hell, I've lost interest in GBBO, which has been my comfort show in what feels like forever. Anyway, things are now up in the air where Netflix goes, which leads me to the whole single-rental-thing I'm now preferring.
I finally, FINALLY watched
American Fiction and absolutely loved it. It's vicious and gets in your face about race issues in publishing and entertainment through dry humor. But there are also a number of dramatic moments that blindside you and crush your heart. Those involving Sterling K. Brown as the gay son who's hurting and dealing with family issues throw you for a loop at first and even threatens a really terrible stereotype about gay men (particularly black gay men) until the second half of the movie, and you're shown why he's on that path. And the resolution? Not what you expect. Certainly not what I expected, and it triggered the waterworks. Race and publishing might be at the forefront of the story, but family is tightly woven into the fabric of the whole thing. Specifically, what actually defines family in the guise of Lorraine.
The ending is very meta and funny in its own way while also being sad considering the point it was trying to make about black artists and what white society expects from them. I'd love to read the book, but the few copies at the local library are all checked out, and there's a massive long line of other patrons waiting their turn. I don't mind waiting longer.
Conclave is next on my must-watch list as The Substance, which I know I'll need to brace myself for. Talk about a study in contrasts.