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Once in the beau monde, rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous, it rather goes to his head.

It had an out-of-town tryout in San Francisco, where it was flawed, and then ... choices were made ... and it opened on Broadway as a glorious mess.

Thus far everyone in the game is spectacularly bad at it (Faithfuls more so than Traitors), and as far as I can tell it’s because people in general no longer know how to think rationally.

Christie wrote two masterpieces (in particular; she wrote many masterpieces, many great books, many good books, and some not-particularly outstanding books: she wrote a lot). I speak of Murder on the Orient Express, and And Then There Were None.

It's the rare non-fiction work that I've happily returned to time and time again, as (a) it's hilarious, and (b) eventually one forgets exactly what went horribly wrong with Grind, or Juno, so it's a bit like reading it again for the first time.

Evolution? I'm a huge fan. Otherwise I'd be floating around in the ocean, bored out of my mind (to the extent that a single-celled organism would have a mind), waiting for something to do. Instead, I can write a blog post, or go eat oyakodon , or watch the next episode of The Traitors , or pat my dog, all of which brings me joy. And because I adore classification (no, really), I appreciate that thoughtful people before me have organized the plant and animal kingdoms, and rath

Manos: the Hands of Fate (roughly translated to Hands: the Hands of Fate) should not feel personally attacked by me, since it's generally agreed to be up there in the top 10 of worst films of all time. It began life when an insurance-and-fertilizer salesman bet a screenwriter he could make a movie, easy, and so set out to do so.

Figures of Earth was the first Cabell novel I ever read, and it's still my favourite, and is considered by most to be one of his best. I read it at thirteen years of age, and was astonished at how funny, moving, clever, and (especially) how different it felt from the many Tolkien imitations.

I didn't know what to expect except at one point someone would sing the lyrics "five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes", and someone else would jump on a table and sing "La Vie Bohème," because I saw those on the Tony Awards broadcast.