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cimorene Professor DetDär spent over an hour on classical probability, without ever moving beyond the basic equation of probablitiy = favourable outcomes / possible outcomes. he explained this at length, with a coin, with a jar containing three colours of balls, with two coins, with a pair of dice, and with a single die. he drew on the board to illustrate all of these. he made the same point over and over and never even got to multiplying. the refrain in my head was something like "STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB".
we watched a danish documentary film. the summary i read in advance helped a little, but not much. i understood almost nothing. through the rest of the lecture my brain was exhausted, snatching at words as they went by but never managing to get a grip on a larger unit of meaning.
a ya fairytale novelisation that i hadn't read was in my parents' care package: the goose girl by shannon hale. i read it in a gulp ending shortly after lunch. it's the kind of book that makes me want to beat the protagonist over the head for being such a dumbass, but the story itself was annoying and the editor who rejected the manuscript and described it as "stiff, self-conscious and cliché" was right on the money. for bonus points, we get one of those writers who claims not to know what the fantasy genre is, and also to be writing not fantasy but just fairytales involving magic that take place in a familiar yet totally fictional medieval-inspired past. apparently she's been contacted by fans who "didn't realise" it was a fantasy book at all, even though most of the major plot points hinge on magic, and she found these opinions extremely flattering and pleasing.
we watched a danish documentary film. the summary i read in advance helped a little, but not much. i understood almost nothing. through the rest of the lecture my brain was exhausted, snatching at words as they went by but never managing to get a grip on a larger unit of meaning.
a ya fairytale novelisation that i hadn't read was in my parents' care package: the goose girl by shannon hale. i read it in a gulp ending shortly after lunch. it's the kind of book that makes me want to beat the protagonist over the head for being such a dumbass, but the story itself was annoying and the editor who rejected the manuscript and described it as "stiff, self-conscious and cliché" was right on the money. for bonus points, we get one of those writers who claims not to know what the fantasy genre is, and also to be writing not fantasy but just fairytales involving magic that take place in a familiar yet totally fictional medieval-inspired past. apparently she's been contacted by fans who "didn't realise" it was a fantasy book at all, even though most of the major plot points hinge on magic, and she found these opinions extremely flattering and pleasing.
