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Midwifian Novels (note: contain no midwives. probably)

While my reading time is eaten up by ignoring Chernow's Hamilton and how massively behind I am on it, I've still been buying books/checking them out of the library. Because that is how I satisfy my shopper's urge.  I'm also trying to donate heaps of them, so it's a strange conveyor belt of books in and out of my apartment these days.

The books in my purse today were a tribute to Emerald Fennell, aka Nurse Patsy Mount on BBC's Call the Midwife, a show about East London in the 1950s and early '60s, and the midwives who helped the poor there. I tried watching it for about a season and a half before I gave up because every episode was making me cry, and I do enough of that in my day-to-day life because of  things like my friend Doug giving me half his breakfast sandwich, so I don't need it from a show where there're dead babies.


Tumblr showed that there vintage lesbians in season 4 of Call the Midwife, so I flouted my own rules and skipped ahead to meet Patsy Mount and Delia Busby.

omg you nerds, you NERDS, look at you (x)

Patsy's the redhead (have you met me?) and Emerald Fennell not only does an excellent job playing her, but she also writes horror-inspired children's books! And went to Oxford, because basically all actors in England are hella smart and they can all bite me with their beautiful perfection.

(Delia Busby, aka Kate Lamb, is an adorable starfish who does parkour and has the best Welsh accent of all the Welsh accents, but she did not write any books, so we are not speaking much of her today)

Emerald Fennell's books are the Shiverton Hall series, and Monsters, both of which I've ordered from the Book Depository, because they are the best and not Amazon. (edit: I have been informed Book Depository was bought out by Amazon NOTHING IS SACRED)

I love both these covers.

Shiverton Hall came in the mail today, and the opening is v. promising. The other book I had in my bag was The Good Soldier, because, creeper that I have decided to be, Fennell mentioned on Twitter that she's read it, and I've had it on the bookshelf over my desk for MONTHS and months without reading a page, so. I made an effort and moved it from the shelf to my bag. I still haven't read any of it, because my lunchtime today was devoted to sitting next to my friend's desk and playing Doodle Jump on my phone while she worked and I chattered away until she'd say "Hm?" and I'd lose my train of thought.

As always, I am delighted when interests make me jump from rock to rock until I end up ten rocks away and find myself saying "Why am I reading a biography of Ford Madox Ford, I thought I was just watching 1950s lesbians."

Looking forward to all these books enormously. Just as soon as I tackle Hamilton. 550 pages to go.


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