Good Sunday Stack December 28th
Good evening and greetings from Oxfordshire.
Like a shepherd herding his flock, I led my parents on a walk through the countryside today, a back way from the village we’re staying in on to the next one over.
We set off down a side street, if such a thing exists in a small English village whose streets are pretty quiet to start off, making our way downhill as the way turned to a dirt farm road. We passed a brick structure called “The Eye Catcher”, which lived up to its name, and then made friends with some local cows sheltering from the chilly December day in their barn.
Passed the cows and over the railroad tracks, we trudged through a muddy field along the River Cherwell. Fortunately, we all had decent footwear on. I made sure to test a few different angles through the tricky, slippery section. While this tested the patience of my herd it was ultimately for their own safety.
The return journey we made along the road provided firmer footing but the tight sidewalk was not to my dad’s liking. He gestured at every other car going by to slow down, despite my advice that right’s reserved for locals. While the steep, uphill stretch was hard on tired legs, we made it to the town pub in time to be their last sitting for a hard-earned Sunday roast. Mushroom and cheddar soups to start, chicken roasts for my Mom and I, a burger for my dad. A rare (half) pint for both them. An even rarer second for my dad. The not so rare two Gunnesses for me.
Now we’re back and my sheep are resting. My dad is reading about the Tottenham match we just watched together and my mom is snoring.
I don’t know when exactly the duty of hike chaperone is passed from parent to child, but I know it comes much too fast. I remember when I was a little kid darting off, climbing little rocks, sliding down switchback cutoffs wherever I could while my parents tried to keep me in their eyesight. By the end of the day of course, I’d have tired myself out. I’d be dragging my feet as they encouraged me, saying “one foot in front of the other, that’s all there is to it”
Well, now it’s my job to slow down my pace and carefully watch their careful steps. Precarious as the journey was at times, they were (mostly) good sports. More importantly, no slip or falls. Most importantly, I know they’ll be proudly bragging about their trek to their fellow Californian retirees when they return in a few days, as they should. My dad, having moved on from the ESPN app, is already reliving the day on google maps, carefully using two fingers to track where we went while googling even the slightest hint of a landmark. I look forward to hearing about them all in the car tomorrow.
What I’m Reading
The Martian by Andy Weir
I took a short break after finishing Project Hail Mary to read some short stories from Claire Keegan’s Antarctica, but soon I wanted to read more space stuff. So, while in Richmond (London neighborhood, not the capital of Virgina) I tried a few local bookstores before accepting Waterstones (chain, boo) was my best bet. Five days later as I’m reading before bed I come to that point where the story is accelerating towards its conclusion, you accidentally pass the point of no return and you end up reading the last seventy-five pages in one go, leaving yourself with nothing to read except academic literature on smart cities you brought for your term papers.
Needless to say, I enjoyed it. Similar story structure, humor and character types to Project Hail Mary, it felt like I was back in the same world: a guy, alone in space (kinda), solving problems to survive. This time the guy is astronaut Mark Watney whose Ares III mission cuts its time short on Mars as a dust storm threatens to topple their only means escape. The storm arrives quicker than expected, and Watney is left behind after losing his crewmates and his suit being damaged to the point that it transmits a systems failure to the rest of the group. Now stranded on Mars, Watney quests survive while NASA scavenges for a solution.
The Martian graciously prolonged my sci-fi escape from grad school reading, but it’s time to return to earth. Womp womp.
What I’m Watching
The Martian
Okay, maybe one last toe in the sci-fi waters. As a last hurrah for my foray into the Weir-verse, I watched the film borne out of the book with my parents tonight after they finished with their phone and iPad time. Mostly finished that is. I had to scold my mom once to stop texting, and sure enough she was asking about a plot point she missed just after. What can you do.
A solid screen adaptation as far they go. Damon fit in well for the titular Martian, carrying much of the movie by himself just as his character carries the burden of his own extraterrestrial survival. Even after finishing the book not 24 hours before, the taut sequences did their jobs well enough to make me wonder just how much director Ridley Scott would be willing to deviate from the story.
As with most adaptions, there are some departures, but none I took any major issue with. Weir’s books are a lot of guy in space has a problem, he figures it out, then another problem, then another figuring it out, then a big life-threatening problem, then a figuring out, then a normal problem and a figuring out, and so on and so forth. Fun to read but wouldn’t play great on screen.
My only qualm is that the balance between a believable NASA and a Hollywood NASA is a little too much in favor of the latter. Like what do you mean (spoiler alert) Donald Glover shows up as a hybrid of both Troy and Abed in Community and saves the day? Also, this version of NASA is a little too hot. Not saying scientists can’t be attractive but the median should be closer to what you see people watching at MIT than at Paris Fashion Week.
Scott’s NASA does give us a great Benedict Wong performance and a real Leo in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood pointing at the TV moment for nerds when Sean Bean’s character describes the meaning of the word “Elrond”.
Unaccompanied Minors and The Holdovers
My two Christmas movies this year. My 12-year-old niece was the exact target population for Unaccompanied Minors, which if you haven’t seen is a Paul Feig-directed tween comedy about a group of kids flying alone who get stuck at a connecting airport on Christmas Eve. They proceed to terrorize the airport’s cruel head of passenger relations played by Lewis Black and his band of security guards, led by Rob Riggle. Not very good but a lot of fun. Unless you’re 12, in which case it’s the greatest movie ever.
The Holdovers, a warm blanket amidst the chaos of hosting family in London. My go-to Christmas watch now. Really, it’s a story of how to carry on after drawing the short straw trojan horsed into a Christmas movie through a snowy New England private school. The opening credits to “Silver Joy”, the Labi Siffre needle drop, the drive to Boston. Chef’s kiss.