Diaries of Grand Duke Konstantin Konstantinovich - June 1879

Konstantin, c. 1875

1 June — Novorossiysk

In the morning dropped anchor at Novorossiysk bay. Around it are green mountains of monotonous, despondent appearance. The wharf suffers from a cruel "bora", especially in winter. In '48 in this roadstead during a "bora" storm the schooner Jet was sunk, went to the bottom under pressure of an ice crust. A very unimportant place for anchoring. 

Wonderful weather, very warm. I was so happy at the thought that tomorrow I will be in Oreanda. I so love the view of Yalta and the Yalta roadstead, the smell of laurels, the steep scales of Ai-Petri. When I'm sad, it's nice to remember all this, especially the slope of the mountains to the sea outside Yalta, to make the heart feel better. 

Novorossiysk gives the impression of a boring, empty city. A dirty church, unfortunate public garden, inconspicuous streets, nasty bridges, barracks, hospital, Greeks and some sort of Russians. I went with Obezyaninov to the mountain, accompanied by Colonel Nikiforaki. He, it seems, is a very businesslike, skilful and good person. He will surely get a lot from the engineers; Papa noticed that the cathedral is in a very obscene state, and asked who maintained it: the colonel answered, the engineers. Papa gave a stern dressing-down to the engineering department in the presence of the officers, instructing them to convey this to their superiors. Obezyaninov promised me to warn them in Tiflis that the engineers are really guilty—and that Nikifiraki didn't dole this out to them, but Papa himself noticed the dirty environment of the church.

3 June — Oreanda

After breakfast talked about "going through hard times". I gave comfort, saying that the world does not revolve around a wedge*, that people have lived and live and will go on living. Talked about the trial of Solovev, who committed an attempt on the Sovereign's life, and about his execution on 27 May.

4 June

Read about the state criminal Solovev and a description of his execution. It made a heavy impression on me, my head even started to hurt...

5 June — Oreanda

Last day here. Someday I will again see dear Crimea. God grant that I will then be at least no worse than I am now.

7 June — Nikolaev

At 11 in the morning was on the Bug at Spasskaya pier. Big meeting, admirals in uniform, flowers, gates, "Welcome" sign and so on—all as it should be... Set out with Kormanovsky to wander around the city. Were at the craft school; at a shelter for old men, women, and children, at an organised society; at a girls' boarding house and the Konstantin literacy school.

Then I went to the cemetery; wanted to visit the graves of my first teacher Elizaveta Ivanovna Iliny and my dear Gavrishev, who died of his wounds at Mama's infirmary. I prayed at his grave, asked him to pray to God to strengthen Mama's health and happiness. And it seemed to me, that Vladimir's soul was closer to me. —At home found out that our departure from here has been postponed until tomorrow. Can't express how upset this made me: I so hoped to finish with the tedious and boring inspections of all sorts of establishments and workshops. I gathered myself, prayed to God to calmly shift my trouble. I prayed also to Gavrishev. And the prayer helped and strengthened me wonderfully. I soon came to see and find some satisfaction in wandering the admiralty behind Papa, among the huge suite. A few times Papa got very angry over the idiotic and careless trimmings of a few objects of the Nikolaev port.

9 June — On the bank of the Bug

The whole time the weather remained wonderful, very sultry. Went with N. I. Kaznakov to a missile factory, and to a Bulgarian boarding house.

Bathed in the Bug. Was with Papa at the Panferova women's boarding house, the Alexandrovsky gymnasium and examined an excellent, still unfinished naval hospital.

At 4:45 left Nikolaev. Mama asked [me] on the telephone to plant jasmine and mignonette at Gavrishev's grave. I instructed this to Kaznakov, he promised to fulfil it. Mama asked [me] to plant exactly these flowers, because [her?] old governess saw the dead in her sleep, as though to reproach her for not taking to his grave mignonette and jasmine, his favourite flowers. 

10 June

In Kharkiv Papa was met by the temporary governor-general Loris-Melikov. We were there with him, he told Papa about the current mood of Kharkiv society and about the socialist-revolutionary society. I liked Melikov's beliefs, though I have read little and know little to judge people's view on management. All my inner feelings rejoiced, seeing that in Kharkiv the governor-general doesn't take any steep, careless measures as leader.

11 June — Moscow

At 6 1/2 were in Moscow. By custom, went upon arrival to bow to the ikon of the Iveron Mother of God. The people awaited us around the wide porches and greeted with a welcoming "hoorah". Going into the chapel, made two earthly bows, venerated the ikon and again bowed to the earth, I heard the church singing, and on exiting my hearing was again deafened by the "hoorah" of the people. It was nice to feel the connection, seemingly non-existent between other peoples and their princes.

I experienced joy and a racing heart, seeing Red Square, Lobnoe Mesto, Vasily the Blessed, and then, when we removed our caps beneath the Spassky Gates, a man on a wagon, having removed his hat, also took the hat off [his] coachman. 

We settled in at the Small Kremlin Palace. In every step here Papa has childhood memories. After lunch he took me to Alexandria, where every room also reminds him of childhood and his deceased sister Alexandra Nikolaevna (aunt Anchen), with whom he was especially friendly. Alexandria belonged to Count Orlov-Chesmensky and was bought by the deceased Sovereign for the Empress. We also went in the garden. Papa wanted to show me the pavilion where in his childhood he ran between lessons. Now Sergei Nikolaevich Solovev lives there, he's very ill, the doctors say that he has liver cancer.

We went to him and found him working on a manuscript of the history of Ekaterina. We live under one roof with the Chudovsky Monastery, where the relics of Saint Alexei lie.

Alexandria Palace, c. 1884

12 June 

Prince Dolgorukov sent me T. V. Merlin who was under him—Count Uvarov is not here—and in the morning I went all around Moscow with Merlin. Today I went to the cathedrals: Uspensky, Archangel and Annunciation; venerated the relics and looked at the shrines and sites. Was at the palace, in the Facteted and Gold palaces, at the Terem, saw the inner churches...

We went with Papa to the anthropological exhibition, where the committee received us with breakfast. Then we viewed the exhibition. The archeological section was very captivating and interesting. 

Had lunch at Dologrukov's; I sat beside Maria Nikolaevna Mansurova, the niece of the prince...

Yesterday were at the Maly Theatre, for a conservatory staging of "Evgeny Onegin" by Tchaikovsky, under the direction of N. G. Rubinstein. The role of Tatiana was beautifully played by the student Klimentova. 

13 June

In the morning went with Merlin to the patriarchal sacristy and armoury palace. After breakfast was with Papa at the anthropological exhibition. From there again with Merlin went to the archive of the ministry of foreign affairs, where my nerves were tried to the extreme by the obsequiousness of the archive director Baron Buhler.

Before leaving we walked around the whole Kremlin wall; the weather was good, the view of Moscow was delightful—Had lunch again at Dolgoruky's.

14 June — Moscow

In the morning saw the Saviour on the Bor, Vasily the Blessed...Was in the women's Passion Monastery. There is an ikon of the Holy Mother of God, and the head of St. Anastasia. I came to the Hegumen. Want to send a lamp to the ikon in this monastery. Was at Merlin's, and no matter how much I refused and was embarrassed, I was obliged to take a gift from him of a few antique things from his own unparalleled collection...Were at the cathedral of the Saviour under construction; saw the raising of the bells. The cathedral's appearance, especially inside, is of amazing size and beauty.

Were at the house of S. M. Tretyakov, ["голови" is the whole clause here but I don't really know what he means by this], viewed his gallery. Were also at the museum of applied knowledge, then Soldatyonkov's gallery and the other Tretyakov's.

15 June — 1879 — Pavlovsk

Went with Papa to Tsarskoe. The Sovereign gave me a badge with his monogram, having said: "For you, in memory of the day when you were with me during Plevna". Papa told the Sovereign about all our travels, gave him a good impression of sailing on Popovka. Were at the Empress'; she was also interested in Popovka and in our travels generally.

...Here I heard that I will not go around the world this year. I am lost in assumptions, and give my fate into the hands of God.

19 June — Pavlovsk

Completely orphaned; now Pavel Egorovich has gone as well I remain alone, however I am not sorry, I'm fine alone.

In the morning went up to the storerooms, looked out the old and intricate in a pile of things; found a jacob armchair, and such a magnificent bureau. Among all the junk found a portrait of Peter the Great and the king of England Charles I. Took all this to my room. Mama helped me to arrange it, and it turned out very sweet.

22 June

Got up very late and thus wasn't happy with myself, head hurt a bit. Was late to a walk with Tatiana Mikhailovna.

After breakfast went to Tsarskoe. Met the Sovereign and Empress in a carriage; a Cossack on the box, in front, mounted Cossacks at the sides and behind, a few at a distance...in drozhki. I confess, it hurt to watch how the Tsar should travel as a prisoner—and then where? In Russia itself. 

22 June [cont?]

Was at Elena Sheremeteva's; she lives in Tsarskoe at the Kreylitz Dacha[?]. We were very, very happy to see one another. On the path to hers I pondered my love and could not account for it: is it right that my inner self is meek and accustomed to all sorts of sorrow, or was the love not real? I remember how it hurt me, pained me, but I never felt jealous and even fell in love with Volodya. And now, though I really wished to be Elena's husband when it was possible, I don't feel despair...

About my sailing nothing more has been said, I don't know anything. I confess it's a rather unpleasant state...

Elena Sheremeteva, née Stroganova, c. 1870s

23 June

In the morning read the biography of Grand Duchess Elena Pavlovna "In Old and New Russia". 

It often occurs to me that my diary also, after sixty, seventy years, will appear in print somewhere: often, I confess, this makes me pay attention to the style and truthfulness of my notes...

Laroche came to me, professor of music theory at the Petersburg Conservatory. He's my friend, I happily showed him our palace; it never tires me and cannot bore me to talk for the hundredth time about various rooms, the porcelain, the bronze, the wallpaper and the old furniture, showing all these to charm guests...

24 June — Pavlovsk

Our family had lunch at the Tsar's; the Empress is extremely weak, her appearance is sickly and tired, she coughs harshly. Because of her weakness she near enough didn't participate in the conversation between the Sovereign and Papa, she, unmoving, sat in an armchair, often closing her eyes, and had the most pathetic appearance. The conversation was boring for our generation: about former commanders of the guard regiments, about the chiefs of sections of these regiments' manoeuvres. Must be confessed that these luncheons are not famous among we who are cheerful or at all curious. 

Late evening at Pavlovsk I was at Tatiana Mikhailovna's and sat there until one in the morning. Told her about my life on Svetlana and then on the bank of the Danube, my childish attachment to Alexei Valentinovich and how these feelings changed to sincere and strong friendship. 

Told her, per her request, about the Silistrian situation and how I received the George cross. 

Returned home by the yard; loved the view of the palace in the light and bright June night, illuminated by the full moon. 

25 June — Petersburg

If Nicholas I were alive, he would be 83 years old today. The family gathered for a panikhida in Petersburg, in the fortress. 

28 June — Pavlovsk

Mama returned from Strelna extremely agitated. Entering the Tsarskoe Selo garden, at the big palace, not far from the arsenal, she was met by a Cossack on horseback. Behind him were harnessed a pair of English horses which the Sovereign ruled, leading a basket, in which apart from the Sovereign was Princess Dolgorukaya and the children. Pavel Egorovich [and] Countess Keller, accompanying Mama, noticed that the Sovereign looked extremely embarrassed.

It's understandable that Mama was extremely upset after such a meeting. I thanked God that I didn't go with Mama. The heart pours blood to see what our Tsar is doing, the Autocrat of all Russia, and even after the wonderful escape from the attempt on his life.

29 June

My fate now, it seems, has changed. Papa was at Kronstadt yesterday. He inspected the corvette Bayan, which has returned from distant sailing. The thought came to him to send Bayan around the world again in autumn with a guards' crew. He wants to send me with them. Here now everything has changed. I'm happy, however Petersburg winter frightens me, with divorces, festivities and so on...

                                        ⧫⧫⧫

*Idiom essentially meaning 'not the be all end all'. 

Translation by Lottie Bailey (@Medesikasta)

SOURCES:

Diary: К. Р.Дневники. Воспоминания. Стихи. Письма, ed. by Ella Matonina

Konstantin

Elena

Alexandria

The Waves Drifted Off / Задремали Волны (1879) — Grand Duke Konstantin Konstantinovich Poem

The Crimean Coast in the Moonlight by Ivan Aivazovsky, 1853

From the cycle "At the Shore"

The waves drifted off

The vaulted sky clear;

Moonlight shines across

Water azure.

The silver tipped sea

Terribly aflame..

Thus joy does sorry

Things brighten again.

Oreanda
May 1879

Из цикла «У берегов»

Задремали волны,

Ясен неба свод;

Светит месяц полный

Над лазурью вод.


Серебрится море,

Трепетно горит...

Так и радость горе

Ярко озарит.

Орианда
Май 1879

                                         ⧫⧫⧫

Translation by Lottie Bailey (@Medesikasta)

SOURCES: 

Poem: К. Р. Избранное : Стихотворения, переводы, драмы, ed. by Evgeni Osetrov

Aivazovsky

Diaries of Grand Duke Konstantin Konstantinovich - May 1879

Konstantin with his sister Olga [Olya], c. 1880s

25 May — Crimea

...For the last time we drank coffee "at the swan"*—on the bank of the pond in the silence of the thick trees, below the rock and the church. The goodbyes began: all the inhabitants of Oreanda poured out of the entrance to wish everyone happy travels...

" — Sevastopol

Arrived in Sevastopol around 4... Spent 2 miserable hours before the departure of the Tsar, Tsaritsa, Mama, Sergei and Mitya. 

Tears flooded, the minutes of separation came. Olya and Mama cried: I felt the tears rising in my throat and also cried. Thanked the Sovereign and the Empress sincerely for their tenderness and care. 

We remained there: Papa, Olya and I. Drove to the north side, to the considerable Sevastopol war cemetery. It reminded me of '73, when I was here with Ilya Alexandrovich. I then really loved Lushkov and found the grave of his father and his name carved in gold on marble in the church. 

We went with awe into the pyramid church. Over the entrance is a mosaic image of Christ. I looked at the grand and quiet, meek parts and it seemed that it should be good to lie peacefully under the earth [here] and to rest from work, cares and wounds when such a Guardian is protecting against them. 

Every ikon in the Church evokes the time when the dead will leave their graves. 

We went around the cemetery, reading left and right on the headstones the names of those killed, those who died from injuries and the terrible words "mass grave". 

The sun went down, the cemetery garden looked cosy and natural, the warm air well-scented with flowers. Recalled the words: "Wait a little—you'll rest too..."

We had lunch on Popovka. With terror I awaited the minutes of last kisses with Olya—new tears. Longed to break at once and shatter in different directions. Brought Olya to the steamer Konstantin...Going away on a tender, I shouted to Olya: "Goodbye, Christ be with you". I heard her last words "Thank you". I got out on Popovka. On her Papa and I will sail the Black Sea...

Inside Popovka gives the impression of a terrible hellish machine. In the middle, between two funnels and thick ventilators, opens the wide abyss of a tower. At will, from there rises like bloodthirsty crocodiles 12-inch (40 ton) guns and they can get any angle of elevation. Suddenly all this abyss begins to rotate rapidly, and this action doesn't interfere with the guns rising in the same way. And suddenly, among the darkness, a Yablochkov candle lights up—and immediately everything around is bright and glittering.

V-A Popov [Popovka] c. 1873

26 May — Black Sea — Vice-Admiral Popov

Popovka is commanded by Balk. The society which gathers at Papa's is, with a few exceptions, not very likeable to me. There is no one with whom I could talk, more than to just unburden oneself...

I'm trying to pay attention to naval matters. I can't help but confess that questions of state interest me more than private naval matters. Had I my own way, I would serve in the civil service. But now it is my duty to be a sailor...Tomorrow morning maybe Batumi...

29 May — Batumi

Around us opened the mountainous shore, at the foot of the mountains is located a small, unattractive town with several mosques. At the edge of the spit enclosing Batumi bay lies the Turkish forces, in the middle of which is a pole to raise the lighthouse fire. The entrance to the bay is open and wide, though the bay itself is not great and cannot accommodate a large fleet. But private ships often come, Turkish steamships, English, French, the Austrians maintain contact with Trebizond, and the Russians with Poti.

The city is populated with Turks, Greeks, Armenians. In the mountains and outskirts of the city live Kabulets, Adjarians, [the transcriber has written "Ladi" here but I think it should be Lazi], and Gurians. 

Here Papa met: Prince Sviatopolk-Mirsky, temporary intercessor in the position of Deputy, the military governor, General-Major Komarov and corps commander General Svoev. They all had breakfast at ours on Popovka and also a Turk—Mustafa-Pasha. At 3 all went ashore with Papa.

At the pier was an honour guard of the Vladikavkaz regiment with many Georgian cavaliers. We were planted in carriages, some sat astride. Observed the Turkish coastal forces. Papa visited the military camps and hospital. Then went into the mountains. At the steep bridge Papa, I and Mirsky also went on horses into the mountains.

From that height was an excellent view of the sea and the neighbouring mountains. The city itself is in a low-lying, coastal and swampy ravine, the mountains start a little way back from the shore. The mountains here are not very high, but extremely picturesque and covered with fresh greenery. The sky was covered with clouds and they encased the snowy peaks of the inner spine. 

Around 7 we returned to Popovka. 

31 May—Simonovo—Kanonitsky Monastery

Weighed anchor at 1 in the morning. At 4 were in Psereti, went out to shore. Near to the shore was a stone church, surrounded by the ancient collapsed walls of a Genoese fortress. The bells were tolling, we were met at the pier by monks in vestments with crosses and holy water. They led us to the church and served a short moleben. We all then went over the mountain to look at the ancient temple. On the road the superior told us about how the monastery was founded. In ancient times Andrew the First-Called and Simon the Zealot, also called the Cannonite because Christ was at his wedding in Cana of Galilee, came to Abkhazia to preach Christianity. According to legend the Apostle Simon founded a church here on the riverbank...and there he died and was buried. In this century several monks came here, to Psereti, from the Athos Monastery. They founded a church and school for little Abkhazians. In the last war this was all destroyed. But, at the conclusion of peace, the monks returned, in 3 months built the stone church where we were, and will start the school again. 

We heard the noise of the river, though it was not visible through the thick vegetation; the mountains towered around, covered all over with forest. Here we saw a huge, branchy hazel grove, behind it an ancient temple of Byzantine construction made from hewed stone, half-destroyed, and covered with ivy and climbing plants; legend says the Apostle Simon is buried there. 

Above the entry dome of the church grows a huge fig tree—its trunk is inside, between the walls of the building. We went into the church. The dome is collapsed, the floor overgrown with burlock, and ivy papers the walls beautifully...To my delight, surprisingly, the ancient colours are visible on the walls; on the western wall, opposite the altar and among the ancient remains of the wall, paintings of the Assumption of the Mother of God are visible...

                                       ⧫⧫⧫

*Maria Sosnogorova's guide to Oreanda mentions a pond with swans, presumably this is what the Konstantinovichi called it. 

Translation by Lottie Bailey (@Medesikasta)

Sources:

Diary: К. Р.Дневники. Воспоминания. Стихи. Письма, ed. by Ella Matonina

Konstantin and Olga

Popovka

Diaries of Grand Duke Konstantin Konstantinovich - 1877

Konstantin c. 1874

16/4 June

Friday | 1:30 in the morning | Frigate "Svetlana"

At close of day I love to crack open my diary and record my impressions: it's pleasant to think that a day has passed, and all its ills will never happen again, if ills there were. And so I'm now rejoicing that this day has passed, though it was not especially bad...

18/6 June

Friday | Pavlovsk

Mama returned from Strelna. I found her on her balcony sitting with Papa. She already knew about my departure and was glad of it. She knows her duty so well that she didn't even wince when Papa announced my departure to her, she says that she would give everything to the fatherland to the last drop of blood. She also requested the following: when Papa left, she wrote to him asking that Mitya be sent to the Danube as well and he, in his turn, wrote to Papa. Mama wrote the letter with such sound arguments, with such convincing entreaties that, she says, Papa will not refuse. 

That Mitya might go was an unpleasant thought to me; very unpleasant! I wanted to be by myself, and that people not from my Svetlana life would not bother me. With Mitya, of course, will go I. A., who I love terribly but who will really annoy me on the Danube without himself being aware of it. His presence, when I am among my own [people?], embarasses me extremely, I feel awkward, I am afraid of every word and action, so as not to see displeasure on his face. This is wretched; I tried to force myself to stifle this feeling, even prayed over his going with me...

19/7 June

Saturday | Pavlovsk

Drank tea on my balcony. At 10 o'clock Mama woke, we went to her. Today I had almost reconciled myself to the thought that Mitya will also set out with me on the Danube. So we are sitting at Mama's; she slept little and feels poorly. Papa came in. From the first word he thanked Mitya for the noble feelings and impulses related in yesterday's letter, but rejected his request, saying that he, Mitya, still had more to learn and shouldn't think about the war. I was almost sure of such an answer...

Yesterday, Mama expressed to me a wish that I should fast before going. Today, after lunch, I told this to Papa. He answered that he had the same thought, but that it's not possible because of the tasks currently occupying me. To Mama, apparently, this was unpleasant, more so as I gave into Papa's words yesterday and refused the holy intention...

20/8 June

Sunday | Pavlovsk

Mama received a mass of telegrams, one, by the way, from the Sovereign, he says that he will be glad to see me on the banks of the Danube...

I really longed to go to the chapel to pray, so no one would see me. I said goodbye to Mama, left Mitya with her, and went through the semi-dark halls to the choir of our chapel. There I knelt, leant on the railing, closed my eyes and prayed, or rather, thought, reflected...

Tomorrow F[ather]. Arseny will come.

21/9 June

Monday

Got up quite late. At 10 o'clock Baranov cut my hair. At 11 o'clock went to the chapel. We always stand in the choir, and downstairs—the people. Today there was no one downstairs and I was glad of it, it's somehow better to pray when alone. Mama came at the end of the obednya. She almost didn't sleep at all, felt poorly, but was sprightly and cheerful. 

I prayed well and thought a lot about myself. I'm already very far from that time when it was so easy to pray, and when it seemed to me that God and the Angels hear me and don't disdain my prayer. And now it is hard for me to concentrate my thoughts and set my mind on religious matters. When I finally, go deep within myself and start to pray, I see my sins from the blackest angle and the past seems impossible to me. Then I think that God has turned away from me and has no need for my prayers. And I remember an evening in Madeira. Talking with —, he was on watch, we were standing, leaning against the right side gun. I was consoling him, he had discovered something within himself...

1:40 in the morning — So I was consoling him, He had discovered such evil in himself, such evil that he could not see forgiveness for himself; I told him that the Lord rejoices more in the repentance of one sinner than in the saintly lives of 99 righteous people. But now I remember these words, and they don't produce the calming effect on me which they did then on him...

22/10 June

12 3/4 in the morning

A telegram came from Papa, who has left for Kronshtadt. He ordered that we be present at St. Isaac's Cathedral tomorrow for a moleben on the occasion of the capture of Tarnovo. I became feverish: wrote to Mama asking her to have obednya earlier. tried on my big boots, as one ought to be in full dress uniform. It was very unpleasant to me, that now after Communion I shall have to fly to the city; it would have been a good deal better not to rush through hearing obednya and to remain all day in peace...

Tuesday

The day of Communion has arrived...

I immediately dressed in field uniform, i.e. in the embroidered uniform with sabres and big boots. Having dressed, went with F[ather]. Arseny to the chapel. There, before the royal doors, was placed a lectern with the Cross and the Gospel. Father read prayers, and I began to confess. My confession never before lasted so long, and Father spoke so much and so well. But I did not have my former childish joy and peace which embraced my whole being after confession in previous, pure years. And this damned upcoming trip to the city especially disrupted the desired peace. 

Mama slept well and woke up by herself. We stood for obednya downstairs, there were absolutely no people. I positively could not pray at all, my tie, which kept creeping out from under the collar of my uniform, concerned me far more than the approaching sacrament. Such is the callousness I have reached. The only good thing is the consciousness of my own unworthiness. 

When Mama and I approached the bowl I felt excellent and, as always in these moments lost all comprehension. And having received communion, I again fell into the abyss of stupid everyday worries and I was once again bothered by my tie, which kept sliding along the collar of my new silk shirt. I chewed the phosphora and could not thank God. 

Then we hastily fled into the city...The Metropolitan and many clergy served the moleben, it was all very solemn, but I was terribly impassive...

24/12 June

Thursday | Pavlovsk

My batman Fokin got some new clothes, Stepanov sent him for some reason. I told him that he can go to the city to take communion with the rest of the crew setting out for the Danube. Had lunch in the Gonzaga Gallery. Then drove with Mama. I think, sometimes, that this may be the last time I'll see lovely Pavlovsk!

12:40 in the morning

Farewell dear, loyal, faithful diary. 

⧫⧫⧫

Translation by Lottie Bailey (@Medesikasta)

Source: К. Р.Дневники. Воспоминания. Стихи. Письма, ed. by Ella Matonina

I have absolutely no idea what's going on with the days of the week here. They're like this both in the book compiled by Ella Matonina and on Прожито (although I believe the latter is transcribed from the former) so I've left them as is.

In Which I Attempt to Visit the Isle of Wight, and Mostly Manage It.

In August 1909, Nicholas II and his family sailed from Russia to the Isle of Wight to enjoy a few days of Cowes Week. In September 2025, I blatantly plagiarised Helen Azar and followed In the Steps of the Romanovs to as many related places as I could cram into a day and a half. We had worse weather than they did, nobody fired off a salute as we sailed in, and the theme of the trip was 'Sorry, we're closed'—despite all of which, I like to think that we had (somewhat) similar experiences. 

The south of England may as well be a foreign country to me. I know my way around London, but all in all I'm a northerner at heart and wouldn't have it any other way. My father/chauffeur/enabler actually came to Wight as a young child, but only remembers his dad telling him to stuff a stolen cassette player into his coat at the Osborne House car park. I was very eager to find out once and for all if it really is grim up north.

We got the ferry from Lymington to Yarmouth. It was a cold day, but clear and sunny so we decided to freeze on the top deck and watch the water. This was the point at which I started to become a teensy bit overexcited. I've visited places also visited by Nicholas and Alexandra, and I've seen belongings in museums, but I've never been anywhere the children might have stood. I remember looking at the silt in the sea and the reeds and thinking "They will have looked out at the coast like this, and it will have been the same colour." Perhaps, as the kids say, cringe. But I'm sure it's a feeling many of you will relate to. 

Due to last minute booking and limited hotel choice, we ended up at the Royal Hotel in Ventnor—the other side of the island from Cowes. This turned out to be one of those happy accidents. Not only has the hotel played host to Charles Dickens and Queen Victoria, but Ventnor is (allegedly) where Ivan Turgenev began writing his masterpiece Fathers & Sons. I could make a crack here about nihilism and the atmosphere of British seaside towns, but having recently promised a friend to be less like Ebenezer Scrooge I will refrain. Also, I got a bit tipsy on Friday night and wandered around the esplanade hunting down dogs to pet. 

Get the house red at the Spyglass

Really, the island is a far cry from what you picture on hearing the words "English seaside" (or, at least, what I picture). There's an almost mediterranean feel to the flora and the sheer quantity of thatched-roof cottages would induce nightmares in any fireman. I was particularly struck by the churches. In my neck of the woods churches are tall and thin, made up of beige bricks now black with age and soot. On the island they're short and squat and often quite pink. It's all very Hot Fuzz. 

And there are white cliffs on Wight! We came across them suddenly after a turn in the road and I felt like we should've started belting a verse of Jerusalem. 

There were few lambs of god, but we did stop at an Esso overlooked by several nosy cows

To get to Osborne House from the car park (where my dad re-enacted the crime of his youth for my benefit) you have to go through the giftshop. English Heritage doesn't miss a trick. But, happily, it started to rain as we reached the exit and most of the crowd stayed behind to wait it out, giving us a clear shot to the house.

I have to admit to being underwhelmed. The building itself is beautiful and certainly unusual for an English country house (and I think Nicholas and Alexandra took a lot of inspiration for Livadia from their numerous visits here), but the interior is...tired? Downstairs is all marble, gold, and opulence. Upstairs is draped with the sort of fantastic chintz that dominates in most of Alexandra Feodorovna's interior decor. But there's such a gloomy, oppressive atmosphere. Even Kensington didn't give me that impression.

That's not to say I was totally disappointed—far from it, I'm a big Winterhalter fan! And for anyone on the Romanov trail there are plenty of objects to look out for:

Heinrich von Angeli's spectacular portrait of the Hessian Grand Ducal family. Victoria wasn't included for the crime of being "too big" and not a word about poor Irene

Some familiar names from a tree of Queen Victoria's descendants at the time of her death 

I believe it's correct that she was Victoria Alix rather than Alix Victoria, but Wikipedia editors are tyrants

And then at last, we came down and out to the terrace. You catch glimpses of it as you're moving through and by the end I was getting a little impatient. Not only is it far and away the best feature of the house, but it's of course where one of the most well-known photos from the Romanovs' trip was taken:

I took two photos here. One at the right angle (though not taken from exactly the right place) for my own amusement:

please sir...may i have some more pixels...

Another at the wrong angle, having been given extensive pose corrections:

The big fence blocking off where the girls were actually walking is in place because the cornices are undergoing repair. I was...peeved—not least because I think English Heritage could withstand the lawsuit if a bit of plaster landed on my head—but I was very happy to finally have a chance to make my own comparison photos. 

 

We then wandered around the lower terrace, which I think in summer would make you feel like you're really in Italy, and started down towards the beach. A lovely winding path takes you there, and all the prominent trees have their own plaques telling you their species as well as when/why they were planted. Being big walkers, I'm sure the children would have loved it. 

The beach at the end is only a little stretch of sand, but am I in a place to criticise? I certainly don't have my own single-family beach. There was a hut selling ice cream and drinks for ridiculous prices, and a tiny grotto looking out at the sea hidden in some bushes. I imagined Alix and Queen Victoria sitting there and sketching the afternoon away. Probably had to bring their own ice cream. 

On our next stroll over to the Swiss Cottage I harboured secret hopes of seeing a red squirrel. Although statues along the trail promised various woodland creatures, I saw absolutely nothing. Then when we finally got to the Swiss Cottage, we found that the upper floor was shut due to "ongoing water ingress". Only one room on the lower floor has its original furnishings so that was another little let-down. 

I really liked the garden plots belonging to Queen Victoria's children. They're very cute and I'm sure made the children feel important. But I then turned around and saw the state of the thatched tool shed at the other side of the plots. It's entirely fenced off, but inside you can see the miniature wheelbarrows which belonged to the children. They are clearly not well-cared for. Full of dead leaves, with several of them so dirty and faded that you can barely read the monograms on the front panels. Even my dad, who couldn't care less about anyone with a title, was quite upset by this. 

On that downer note, we walked back to the car park and set off for East Cowes.

I thought initially that the Romanov memorial is in a strange place. A small park at the edge of the road, much of which is taken up by a children's playground. But when you look at a map of the town there's not really anywhere else for it. The park was built in 1887 so Olga and Tatiana would almost certainly have passed it on their way into town. I'm not sure what feeling that inspires, but the same sort I get when I think of Victoria of Hesse driving by the Ipatiev House in 1914.

Overall, I approve. The cross is big without being overwhelming and the bronze portraits are beautifully done. I was pleased that people are still leaving flowers (possibly some left over from when the Grand Duchess Elizabeth society held a memorial there in June).

Leading up to the memorial, there are two big boards with information about the family and the trip to Cowes, as well as one dedicated to Elizaveta Feodorovna. I believe the memorial was largely paid for by members of her society here in the U.K. 

I will say, if you undertake this trip yourself then steer clear of East Cowes—it's not worth it! I'd hoped to buy a postcard or some other little touristy thing but I don't think I could have found a loaf of bread for sale if I were on the brink of starving to death. We were there about 4pm on a Saturday (by no means an absurd time, I'm sure you'd agree) and found that practically everything there was shut. Even the heritage centre!

Olga and Tatiana got the ferry across to the main part of Cowes for now-obvious reasons. We took a quick detour on our drive back home and found it to be more or less Ventnor on a larger scale. I'd love to go back with some other fanatics and spend a day or two trying to work out where the following was taken, but my poor father had just about had enough by then. 

Unfortunately St. Mildred's Church in Whippingham is closed on Saturdays so I didn't get an opportunity to poke around. When we booked I was glad to be going at all and tried to put it out of my mind, but on the day I was sad to miss it. Victoria of Hesse is buried here, and tucked away in a corner is a modest cross and plaque put up by Victoria in memory of her sisters. I did get to look at the church, but this is another thing I'd like to go back and see properly on a less bodged-together trip. 

My final night was very pleasant. Further drinks were had, further dogs were petted, and I thought a lot about Turgenev. I thought about the Romanovs on their final night, the Solent lit up by English ships arranged for a special display. They sailed back quietly the next morning, as we did, and the weather took a turn for the worse, as it did for us. If Wight seemed like a foreign country to me then it must have been another planet for the children. 

Is it grim up north? I don't think so. The south is bleak to me and I don't much like the seaside to begin with. I like moors and hills and lakes. But I'm beyond glad to have seen all these things and, as I say, am already gearing up to go back. Hopefully after the despotic monopoly of Wightlink has come to an end and those of us who aren't members of an imperial family can afford to take the ferries.

Can it be that their prayers and their tears are fruitless? Can it be that love, sacred devoted love, is not all powerful? Oh, no! However passionate, sinful or rebellious the heart hidden in the tomb, the flowers growing over it peep at us serenely with their innocent eyes; they tell us not only of eternal peace, of that great peace of “indifferent” nature; they tell us also of eternal reconciliation and of life without end.

        -  Fathers and Sons, Turgenev (tr. Richard Gilbert Hare)

The Media I Consumed In 2024

By now I'd imagine most of you know the drill, but for any newcomers:

Here you will find a list of everything I watched/read to completion in 2024, colour-coded by whether or not I would consider it 'queer media', with a rating out of ten and either a tiny (generally spoiler-free) review or silly comment to round it all out nicely.

As you will see, this year I went through a lengthy 'horrific things happening in cold places' spell. I was teetering on the edge of some kind of breakdown for a while and the idea of being somewhere empty and freezing where bad things happen to you through little fault of your own and whether you live through it or not you're completely changed afterwards was very appealing. God knows what that says about me. 

If you haven't the time or the will to sift through all this, and I certainly wouldn't blame you, here's the highlight reel:

Best Book: Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte

Best Film: Society of the Snow

Best TV: Wolf Hall (Season 2)

Best Theatre: Hadestown (Live | West End Cast)

And now for the Meat...

 BOOKS

Queen of the Damned by Anne Rice — 8/10 — I have no illusions about myself and I know for a fact that if I were in a vampire story I would be Daniel Molloy. 

If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho (translated) by Anne Carson — N/A — Not really substantial enough to be rated, but beautifully presented and valuable to massive nerds such as myself. 

Luck in the Shadows by Lynn Flewelling — 5/10 — Love the characters but the prose is meh and the structure is like...oddly weighted is the only way I can describe it. We spent so long on Alec being My Fair Lady-ed that by the time someone started talking about the disc again I'd completely forgotten that I wasn't reading a low-stakes society drama. 

The Girls by Emma Cline — 8/10 — Cline's style is her greatest strength and her greatest weakness. I wish there'd been a touch more deviation from history; as it is the book is practically a 1:1 replication with the names slightly changed. It should be noted that I read this in one sitting immediately after watching Society of the Snow which, in combination with real-life happenings, was a disastrous move for my mental health. So don't do that. 

The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov — 8/10 — I think I may actually like it more than I remember, but I was still a bit iffy at the time and not paying it the attention I should have. Full of little things that have stuck in my brain. 

Lady Caroline Lamb: A Free Spirit by Antonia Fraser — 8/10 — Fraser is one of those very voice-y aristocrats in the vein of Simon Sebag Montefiore, but she's a lot less conceited and you'd be surprised at the wonders that can do for a biography. 

The Climb: Tragic Ambitions on Everest by Anatoli Boukreev and Gary Weston DeWalt — 10/10 — You live through this and decide to keep climbing mountains. My god man, take a hint. 

Dark Matter by Michelle Paver — 8/10 — I would've liked it a lot more if a certain death hadn't occurred 5 minutes from the finish line. Cheap and unnecessary and I'm not just saying that because I'm bitter (though I am)!

Alive by Piers Paul Read — 9/10 — I really don't know why I did this to myself. 

Thin Air by Michelle Paver — 4/10 — I almost wish I hadn't read this because it made me think less of Paver as an author. If you want to read one of her 'cold horror' books then pick one and ignore the second, lest you have the "Oh, I see what we're doing" revelation I had twenty pages into Thin Air. And don't pick this one. 

Society of the Snow by Pablo Vierci — 10/10 — There's nothing I can say about this that can possibly do it justice, except that something in my brain has been permanently knocked a little askew. 

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte — 10/10 — Not to be one of those people who says 'Nobody understands classic lit like I do' but nobody understands Wuthering Heights like I do. Emily I saw the messages you were sending me through the book.

FILMS

Napoleon — 3/10 — Can't remember why I coloured this green and that's really thrown me, but I can't bear to watch it again and find out. Possibly I was distracted by Vanessa Kirby? Anyway don't bother.

Society of the Snow — 10/10 — Film of the year, film of the decade, mayhaps film of the century. For the love of god pick your moment wisely.

Killers of the Flower Moon — 8/10 — Hurt by its length but at the same time I don't know what could've been cut. Weird one. 

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood — 5/10 — Would've loved to be a fly on the wall at this pitch meeting.

Kind Hearts and Coronets — 10/10 — Could not have appealed more to me if I'd written it myself. 

Rebel Without a Cause — 7/10 — God I was so into it and then it just ended. No closure. What are we doing.

Taxi Driver — 5/10 — I am going to bravely admit that I don't get it.

The Social Network — 7/10 — Not bad, but I don't see why everyone raves so much about it. At the very least it's leagues above its copycats. 

Catch Me If You Can — 8/10 — Fun!

Dune Part II — 8/10 — So good that it almost tricked me into thinking I liked the first one. I don't know why so many filmmakers these days are allergic to opulence and beauty, though. Surely not every house employs the same brutally minimalist interior designer. 

Shaun of the Dead — 7/10 —A little twee, but I still had a great time. 

The Personal History of David Copperfield — 4/10 —Such a shame. The actors are great, the set design and costumes are wonderful, but the way it was adapted just kind of guts the story. 

Everest (2015) — 6/10 — Jon Krakauer is upset that this film depicts him being asleep in his tent during an event he famously missed due to being asleep in his tent. If I were him I wouldn't be whining, lest someone bring up my poor reputation in the mountaineering community. Then again, if I were him I wouldn't have lobbed unprovoked criticism at the guy who did the rescuing while I slept in my tent. 

Challengers — 10/10 — This is what's happening in my head when I read a Realm of the Elderlings book.

The Virgin Suicides — 5/10 — Did Kirsten Dunst somehow become...worse at acting as she aged?

How To Steal a Million — 10/10 — Oh my god this is good. Like you don't need me to tell you that, but everything in this film works so well it's unbelievable. If I could buy a physical copy of the soundtrack for less than £467 it would never leave my CD player. 

My Own Private Idaho — 6/10 — Bizarrely charming or charmingly bizarre? It's hard not to feel pity for Keanu Reeves as River Phoenix acts circles around him for hours on end. 

Cursed (2005) — 2/10 — I read about what this film could have been, what it was until Weinstein scrapped the footage, and wept a little.

The Witch (2015) — 10/10 — I'm not a 'girlhood' 'coquette' sort of feminist and I always have that one Ursula K. LeGuin quote running through my mind, but for a very brief moment towards the end of this film I did absolutely get it. 

The Bounty (1984) — 8/10 — ONE COCONUT MR. CHRISTIAN!!!

Bend it Like Beckham — 7/10 — These are lesbians. 

The Village (2004) — 10/10 — Well I don't know what everyone else's problem is because I think it's great.

Lost in Translation — 7/10 — Spent most of the runtime having an existential crisis about the fact that Scarlett Johansson was nineteen during this film. 

Trap — 6/10 — It started out (I think intentionally) cheesy but pretty good...and then it kept going...and going...and it just wouldn't stop. 

Little Women (1994) — 10/10 — I'm sure you don't need to me to describe it to you.

View from the Top — 3/10 — Don't enjoy that I have to colour this purple. 

Emily (2022) — 7/10 — People aren't going to like this but I think that if we're making up boyfriends whole cloth then we should at least have the courage to make Branwell gay. 

Fanny & Alexander — 10/10 — One of the filmiest films I've ever seen and I adored every single minute of it. Just gorgeous. 

The Mummy (1999) — 7/10 — A little overhyped but a good time nonetheless.

TV SERIES

The Terror — 9/10 — Would've been a 10/10 if not for the fact that we not only see tuunbaq, but we see tuunbaq repeatedly and at length. So much of this is about fear of the unknown and I think it really undercuts that theme to be like well here is the thing actually. 

Domina (Season 1) — 7/10 — Is sometimes written as though the audience won't understand it's set during a different time period with different values and different attitudes to life. 

Gilmore Girls — 6/10 — Both of these women and the men they date annoy me no end, the only saving grace is Paris. Also Kirk. Apparently there was going to be a Jess spin-off and I'd give my firstborn child to see what a mess that would've been. 

Young Royals (Season 3) — 10/10 — Stuck the landing impeccably. My heart says there were at least another six series in this, my brain says thank god Netflix let their best property die with some dignity.

The Dropout — 9/10 — Stuff like this and Anna Delvey inspire an existential dread in me about how the fate of nations depend on like ten people with far more money than sense.

The Americans (Season 1) — 8/10 — The Platonic ideal of a TV series. 

Chernobyl — 10/10 — 2018-19 there was something in the water, what a run of prestige miniseries.

Dead Boy Detectives — 3/10 — Absolutely dreadful, I hope it runs for five seasons minimum (note from the future: ☹️)

Bridgerton (Season 3) — 2/10 — The first two were hardly prestige television but I did largely enjoy them. We've taken a very steep nosedive and I'm not convinced we're going to recover. 

Interview with the Vampire (Season 2) — 9/10 — I put off watching episode seven because I knew what was coming and would you believe it I wept from minute one to the bitter end. My mother adores Lestat. 

Twenty Twelve — 6/10 — So that's all good then. 

House of the Dragon (Season 2) — 7/10 — I went through the opposite experience to most viewers in that I started out deeply unhappy and the show regained my trust with each subsequent episode. 

A Good Girl's Guide to Murder — 8/10 — I never read the book but several of my friends did and frankly they should have pitched it to me better. 

House M.D. — 8/10 — My original comment here was another Challengers joke but I no longer remember what I meant and if I can't figure it out then you definitely won't. 

North & South (2004) — 8/10 — Watching this as someone whose hometown is mentioned in "It's Grim Up North" I can promise it's not quite that drab, but the story's certainly popular for a reason. 

Heartstopper (Season 3) — 1/10 — I think the presence of Foldo from The Letter for the King distracted me so much last season that I forgot I was basically watching terrible actors read aloud from a textbook about queer identity and mental health. It didn't work this time. 

Sweetpea — 10/10 — Love to see Ella Purnell starring as a repressed bisexual in a horror/comedy series.

The Diplomat — 7/10 — Usually I hate these sorts of things but every so often they make a good one! 

The Empress (Season 2) — 4/10 — This could be really good but they just refuse to stop making bizarre choices. Why is so much time dedicated to that one woman and her fiance? Why did we need the 'illegal homosexuality' episode which is totally unconnected to anything else? Why do the costumes look like that?

Wolf Hall (Season 2) — 10/10 — Once again I wept through the entire last episode. Literally what can I say? Costumes impeccable, acting incomparable, music just spectacular. Will surely be revered for generations to come. 

THEATRE

Jesus Christ Superstar (Live | Touring Cast) — 9/10 — Exactly the same cast as last time (minus Julian Clary thank god) but the months of doing it over and over again have clearly paid off. Excepting the microphone thing which does put me off a bit, I can't think of anything that would've made it better. Hannah Richardson please call me. 

Hadestown (Live | West End Cast) — 10/10 — Everything I thought it would be and more. 

Wicked (Live | Touring Cast) — 1/10 — A friend offered me this ticket, dinner, and a trip to Liverpool for free and even that didn't make up for the two hours and forty five minutes of life I lost enduring this show. Stephen Schwartz wrote 'All I Ever Wanted' from The Prince of Egypt. He wrote 'Hellfire', 'The Bells of Notre Dame'. I genuinely cannot believe this. 

Absalom & Eteri (Live | Tbilisi State Opera) — 5/10 — It only premiered internationally this year and frankly I get it. It's just sort of okay. Costumes, set design and so on were astounding. As we were leaving I saw two obviously English girls in the lobby and commented on it to my friends who ignored me, and then several weeks later it turned out that they were also on their year abroad studying Russian at our tiny language school. Moral of the story is that I'm right about everything all the time. 

The Media I Consumed in 2023

They say everyone's a critic, and I think we can all agree that no critic is harsher than a teenage girl. 

Much like last year, I have compiled a list of every piece of media I consumed to completion between 1/1/23 and 31/12/23, along with my surely fascinating thoughts about them—all colour-coded for your (and future me's) convenience! Excepting live stage productions, I haven't included rereads or rewatches. Mostly spoiler-free, but I couldn't stop myself from going into detail about...certain things. You have been warned. 

The queer media bar was much lower (and much less abstract) than last year's. This time, the criterion was as simple as Is there queer representation? It didn't have to be 'good' representation, in fact I much prefer the opposite, it just had to be there with some meaningful impact. Behold the code:

Explicit

To some extent /word of god/that one bit in The Winter Prince

Nowhere to be found

If you haven't the patience to sift through all this (and I really can't blame you), here are the ones you should go out of your way to watch and read:

Favourite book: The Winter Prince by Elizabeth Wein

Favourite film: Bottoms

Favourite TV series: Interview With The Vampire

Favourite theatre(?): A Little Life

And now for the details...

BOOKS

The Praise Singer by Mary Renault — 8/10 — Haven't the energy to unpack it further but I think there's a real significance to this being the last of her Greek novels (excepting Funeral Games which I don't really count) and The Last of the Wine being the first. Something something reflections of each other. 

Tiepolo Blue by James Cahill — 1/10 — I've rewritten this paragraph about five times because I can't articulate what it is about this book that I dislike so strongly. It's vulgar in a way that isn't clever or making any kind of commentary; just unpleasant for the sake of shock value. The protagonist doesn't learn or change at all; if he'd become worse, even, that might've at least been interesting. The big twist is neither big nor a twist. An incomparably hollow thing.

An Oresteia (translated) by Anne Carson — 10/10 — Carson's sense of humour is exquisite. 

Alexander the Great by Robin Lane Fox — 8/10 — Irrefutably a book about Alexander the Great. Fox uses the phrase "the sequel" far too often for my liking, but then again people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. 

This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone— 5/10 — A little much, I think. The language is so flowery by the end that I genuinely don't have a clue of what happened in the last few pages. 

The Atlas Six by Olivie Blake — 1/10 — If you can't juggle six viewpoint characters the solution is not to condense them all down into cardboard cutouts. 

Anna by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles — 5/10 — Let down badly by the second half, though I'm willing to admit that most of that is due to my own sensibilities. Justice for Boris and Jean Luc!

Dear Evan Hansen: The Novel by Val Emmich, Benj Pasek, Steven Levenson, and Justin Paul— 3/10 — The horse is dead, guys. No number of secret gay boyfriends is going to revive it.  

The Winter Prince by Elizabeth Wein — 10/10 —Intense. Very intense. I'd love to write a real piece about this someday. I know that the whole "Your beauty makes me sick" speech and subsequent incident are what people tend to focus on (and for good reason, my god) but personally, I'm obsessed with that bit where Medraut says something actually very reasonable about how Artos can't expect him to be constantly watching out for Lleu and then immediately starts comparing himself to Cain. So funny and so painful. 

S by Doug Dorst and J. J. Abrams —3/10— You could chop the last three quarters of this book off and come away with the same amount of information.

Petrograd: The City of Trouble by Meriel Buchanan — 10/10 — It sounds very wishy-washy but Buchanan's descriptions are fascinating and her writing style was exceptional, it makes me wonder why her novels never took off. Exceedingly interesting, as Nicholas II would say. 

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes by Suzanne Collins — 10/10 — I went in expecting a simplistic cash-grab and was very wrong. There's a much darker, bleaker tone to this when compared with the original trilogy which I personally prefer. Obsessed with Sejanus Plinth. 

You've Lost a Lot of Blood by Eric LaRocca — 4/10 — Most of the horror I experienced while reading this novel came from the fact that I was reading it on my commute to uni via the battered corpse of what was once Northern Rail. It's not the twisted tale of depravity most reviews make it out to be—basically it's just a bit of gore—but there's a reveal towards the end which will 100% make you think "Well why did I have to read all of that?" and grudgingly I admit that that's worth something. 

Pnin by Vladimir Nabokov — 8/10 — Tiepolo Blue but if it was good. 

In a Garden Burning Gold by Rory Power — 6/10 — Wasn't jazzed about the first half, but the tiny glimpse we get of the Domina family and their country (which I can't name because infuriatingly there's no map) intrigued me just enough to make me finish the book. I will be reading the sequel but I'm not happy about it. It should also be noted that many people on goodreads have categorised this as a queer story but I genuinely can't fathom why. Is it an in-joke? Shipping gone rogue? Maybe you can read it and tell me. 

Fathers and Sons by Ivan Turgenev — 9/10 — Pavel is a better man than me, I'd have duelled Bazarov on night two maximum. 

Assassin's Quest by Robin Hobb — 6/10 — I asked for more Verity and the monkey curled its paw. Very funny that the Fool says "I love you" to Fitz like twice per chapter, on day one of knowing these people Starling tells him "Yeah the Fool is in love with you", and then Fitz has the audacity to be shocked. I treasure each and every one of these idiot characters. 

Fool's Errand by Robin Hobb — 8/10 — Each generation of Farseers has one bisexual prince entwined in a nightmarish love triangle with consequences that will echo down the ages and one utter lunatic. Sadly we've had to outsource generation three's lunatic, but I'm thrilled to report that quality has not taken a hit. 

Golden Fool by Robin Hobb — 10/10 — I doubt that anyone has ever thought these words but poor Civil. Born to be the bisexual prince entwined in a nightmarish love triangle, cursed to be the lunatic. On a more genuine note this is a brilliant book and no two ways about it. Every character was on top form, every aspect of the plot had my complete attention. I wanted to strangle Fitz at several points but that just means we're back, baby. There is a section in the middle that made very little sense to me because I thought all those people who say you need to read Liveship Traders first were exaggerating, but I imagined myself as someone who knows and cares about these characters and had a great time anyway. 

FILMS

Pride (2014) — 7/10 — 1:15:53 you know what I'm talking about, what a wonderful moment. My biggest complaint is all the 'ah, these silly lesbians with their silly female concerns' towards the girls who end up splitting off. Obviously I wasn't there, I don't know how it went down, but the film frames it in a way that encourages the audience to laugh along with misogyny and that's not very fun. 

Knives Out — 10/10 — A breath of fresh air amidst the smog of comic adaptations and remakes worse than the original.

Knives Out: Glass Onion — 10/10 —I mean, you've all seen it. It's a great film. A+. 

The Age of Innocence (1993) — 3/10 — Didn't really care for the story, some of the characters were interesting, Winona Ryder was magnificent. Given that the authors were friends and read each other's work, I feel almost certain that Wharton's Countess Olenska was modelled on James' Princess Casamassima.

The Assassin of the Tsar — 5/10 — This concept is, in my opinion, so absurd as to be comical but the film takes itself dead seriously. It's...certainly not for everyone.

Seven Years in Tibet — 6/10 — First this, then Troy. You'd think they'd learn their lesson and stop making Brad Pitt do any accent besides his own.

Dune (2021) — 3/10 — I watched this once and dismissed it as style over substance. Then I started thinking about it more and more and thought "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it's actually good and just takes a while to sink in." So I watched it again. Oops.

This is Spinal Tap — 10/10 — I feel like watching anything else ever again would simply taint Spinal Tap. How does one move forward from the best film humanity will ever create?

Kill Your Darlings — 7/10 — Everything I know about American literature comes to me from Dead Poets Society so you could tell me that this is all completely true and I'd believe you. 

Carol (2015) — 8/10 — Cate Blanchett is never better than in a Patricia Highsmith adaptation. 

Nimona — 7/10 — Normally I don't get along very well with stuff meant for a younger audience but you know what? This is a good one. Only a handful of lines made me want to lop an ear off from cringe. 

Dear Ex (2018) — 9/10 — A wonderful, sincere little gem deserving of a title far better than the one it has.

Barbie — 7/10 — Good fun. 

Baby Driver — 5/10 — Recommended to me by a friend who raved about the diegetic music and how everything lined up which, like, yeah! That was really cool! It would've been nice to get a story with a bit more depth or even a multi-dimensional love interest but I suppose you can't have everything.

Oppenheimer — 10/10 —Left the cinema and felt everything all at once.

Rosaline — 6/10 — Was expecting something in the 'girlbossified retelling' genre so my hopes weren't high. Pleasantly surprised. 

Bottoms — 10/10 — I am the target audience for this film. Never before has a piece of media been made to appeal so completely to me. 

The Green Knight — 9/10 — Some scenes lingered a bit too long, I think, but a really brilliant film nonetheless. 

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes — 8/10 — Obsessed. The District 12 stuff was way too condensed, a lot of Sejanus content was cut, and I disliked that the ending was made rather less ambiguous, but very loyal to the source material overall. My first thought as I walked out was that it wasn't long enough, but everyone I've spoken to since said that it needed to be shorter, so take that as you will. 

The Wonder — 4/10 — On paper I should love this, sadly didn't quite click.

May December — 8/10 — The opposite of Dune in that I didn't like it at first, kept thinking about it, watched it again and loved it. 

Another Country — 9/10 — Maurice's more depressing cousin. I do feel that if they wanted to make a biopic that badly then they should have just...made the biopic. 

Saltburn — 2/10 — Emerald Fennell and James Cahill have an awful lot in common, I think. Someone ought to set them up for lunch.  

TV SERIES

Interview with the Vampire — 9/10 — Sam Reid is Lestat and Jacob Anderson is Louis. I cannot believe that we have been blessed with such a spectacular adaptation. I was also really thrilled about Damon Daunno's cameo because he has the most beautiful voice and I am reduced to tears whenever I hear him sing. Admittedly he didn't sing and I cried for another reason, but you can't deny the man can act.

The Letter for the King — 7/10 — Can't remember the last time I was so upset about squandered character potential. Prince Viridian is just fascinating, but they waste him completely. The show makes a point of depicting him as someone who isn't evil so much as he is deeply ill, and then proceeds to treat him like he's a fundamentally terrible person anyway which feels...not great? On another note, I'm so in love with the "and hated me for every second of it" scene in episode 6 that I've gone back to watch just that several times. Why they decided to shoehorn the Jussipo/Foldo thing into the last half-hour but let Viridian and Jabroot spend six episodes angstily dancing around each other with scene after scene like that will forever elude me. 

Half Bad — 9/10 — I read all three of the books years ago and apparently don't remember a single thing about the story. I know I didn't really care for them which seems insane because this is the sort of thing I've always gone feral for.

1899 — 4/10 — Started off very strong; the last few episodes took it so far off the rails that I completely lost interest. I am Aneurin Barnard's biggest fan, however, so getting to watch him frolic about a Victorian ocean liner looking dark and broody meant that it wasn't a total loss.

Euphoria — 5/10 —Unbelievably melodramatic but it's so fun and well put together that you can't help but enjoy it.

The Last Kingdom (Season 1) — 1/10 — After watching this I read that it's based on a book series by Bernard Cornwell which is exactly what it felt like. 

The Last of Us — 9/10 — Sorry! Can't talk about this in an interesting way because the game is one of the biggest reasons that I am generally the way that I am. I will forever have a huge Ellie-shaped dent in my brain which, unfortunately, makes it impossible for me to be normal about this story.

Shadow and Bone (Season 2) — 4/10 — Oh, what have they done to you...

Stranger Things — 8/10 —I love Robin I would kill for Robin; the scene where she comes out to Steve? I was in floods of tears.

Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story — 5/10 — By all means passable. The only thing I really hated was the way they treated Princess Charlotte and Leopold as a punchline. She died an awful death and her husband was devastated, it's such a weird thing to make into a recurring joke. 

Yellowjackets — 7/10 — Don't at all care for the 2021 timeline but I have a thing for disaster-horror so the 1996 timeline is made for me.

Heartstopper (Season 2) — 6/10 —An undeniable improvement! The dialogue's more polished, the acting's better, there's a little bit of tooth to the story. I also love to see Letter For The King alumni kicking about in other things so that was a pleasant surprise—playing exactly the opposite character and all. 

The Borgias — 7/10 — Season one was fine, season two was one of the best series of television I have ever watched, season three made me want to pluck an eye out. A rollercoaster much like the Borgia rule. Holliday Grainger please call me.

Castlevania: Nocturne — 5/10 —Picked up steam towards the second half but, as with 'original' Castlevania, I think I'll much prefer the latter seasons...if we get there.

Skins (Seasons 1 & 2) — 7/10 — Characterisation in this show is unfathomably good. Many other brilliant things happened between the first few minutes of S1E1 and the end of the show but there will forever be a special place in my heart for "God, I'm good". Unfortunately I do not care for Effie so can't bring myself to go on. 

Sex Education (Season 4) — 3/10 — Something went badly wrong in the writer's room I think.

The Fall of the House of Usher — 5/10 — The only Flannigan work I've really loved was Midnight Mass, which I'm beginning to think was a fluke. I'm glad that Kitsey from The Goldfinch is getting good roles, though, because I do enjoy her. 

Broadchurch (Season 1) — 7/10 — A few moments here and there were a bit hammy and some things could have been handled better, but I spent the entirety of the last episode writhing about in horror so that has to count for something. 

The Gilded Age (Season 2) — 3/10 — This is the worst show on television and I will kill someone if I don't get ten seasons of it. 

THEATRE

Carmen (Live | Dnipro Opera) — 6/10 — The singing and music were fine on the whole. Set design, costumes, and choreography (except for Escamillo's entrance, which was very cool) were underwhelming, but then I suppose allowances have to be made because it's a touring production. Carmen could not act to save her life. 

A Little Life (Live | Original Cast) — 8/10 — The ultimate trauma bonding experience. Wanted to go and harrass James Norton about War and Peace at the stage door but I was too much of a coward so my questions go unanswered. Luke Thompson is wasted on Bridgerton.

Julius Caesar (Live | Royal Shakespeare Company) — 8/10 — Exceptionally well-performed with brilliant staging. For the love of god, though, I wish we could be done with this era of sticking all the actors in monochrome casual-wear and setting them loose on a similarly monochrome, minimalist set. It's not artsy. It's tired and dull. I was also going to complain about the werewolf dance routine but I'd have to explain it and to be honest no words could paint a picture of what all of us in that theatre experienced.

Jesus Christ Superstar (Live | Touring Cast) — 7/10 — Julian Clary as Herod is a torture technique designed to specifically target me.

Nerdy Prudes Must Die (Proshot | Original Cast) — 5/10 — Wish it were better.

Hamilton (Live | Touring Cast) — 7/10 — Is it me or are touring productions steadily decreasing in quality? It was fine, it was Hamilton, Eliza was wonderful, nobody tripped over their words, but it was noticeably rough around the edges.