THE RAMBLER REVIEW: Issue #06
The Count of Monte Cristo (2024), nail polish tragedies, and a Victorian séance
Welcome to the sixth issue of The Rambler Review - a monthly newspaper covering the crème de la crème of my media and arts consumption from the past few weeks.
I have nothing profound to share - it’s been a exhaustive and lovely month, but moments before sitting down to wrote this issue’s letter, I knocked my single bottle of burgundy nail polish onto the bathroom floor, where it not only replicated a crime scene on the white tiles but also cast bloody splatters over my new slippers.
To add insult to injury, I have the flu.
Dejected, despairing, but overall doing quite well. Enjoy my mid-winter recommendations of June.
B.
Young Bloomsbury (2022): Nino Strachey’s Gatsby-esque account of “the generation that reimagined love, freedom and self-expression,” Young Bloomsbury tells the history and evolution of the Bloomsbury Group — the informal collective of artists, writers, critics, and other brilliant minds in the first decades of the 20th century — and the expansion of the group to include the ‘Bright Young Things’ of the next generation. The narrative is a celebration of the queer families and relationships formed within the group, and of the mark left on society by its members. Strachey generously begins the book with a dramatis personae, which proved invaluable while trying to navigate the countless romances pursued by the ensemble cast of characters, which included Virginia Woolf, E.M. Forster, and Lytton Strachey (an early relation of the author) among it’s esteemed members.
Eileen (2015): The first book to ever make me physically nauseous. I detested what Ottessa Moshfegh was doing, but she did it exceptionally well.
Practical Magic (1995): In a vain attempt to comfort myself with witchy literature, I finally read Practical Magic. While there were a few points of interest, I was disappointed by the dissimilarities between book and film (not to mention disturbed by the book’s increased references to violence against women) and doubt I’ll be revisiting the novel anytime soon, although the film adaptation will remain much loved.
Garden Spells (2007): Following the same motivation, I endured what can only be described as a direct rip-off of Practical Magic, sans aunts (who are, let’s face it, the blood and backbone of the story). The main difference between the two stories seems to be that every family in the small town of Garden Spells has a Thing — for the protagonist sisters, it’s their mildly witchy ways, but for another family it’s that all the women are spectacular at sex (but somehow not in an empowering way), and for another family it’s that all the men eventually marry older women. I think at one point this book unironically used the phrase; “not like other girls.” Consent also felt a little blurry at points (a complaint that can be similarly applied to the Practical Magic novel).
Death on the Nile (1978): Several weeks after watching this, partner and I are still referencing it constantly. Specifically:
1. Poirot’s ridiculous little waist-coat pockets (think of a cowboy looping his thumbs through his jeans, then raise that gesture to breast-height).
2. Jacque tormenting the newlywed couple by appearing out of the blue at various landmarks they’d chosen to visit, and then passionately reciting facts about the measurements of each landmark.
3. Poirot’s friend saving him from a viper in his chamber, and Poirot then declaring that he (Poirot) was unstoppable and the greatest of all time.
On the other hand, the film had a viciously racist streak in the treatment of the boat’s captain, so wouldn’t recommend or watch again.
The Count of Monte Cristo (2024): Flawless. I was physically shaking when I left the cinema. I knew the essential premise ahead of time but didn’t know how the story ended, and let me tell you I have never had such a hand on heart, audible gasp (x3), edge of my seat cinematic experience. Go watch the trailer then go watch the film.
Crusaders vs. Chiefs (2025): That is correct - I watched a rugby game. I contain multitudes etc. Nothing to report, other than that it was the first rugby game I’ve seen since my bampa died and it reminded me of staying up late with him at my cousins’ house, eating crisps and throwing toilet paper at the TV whenever the Welsh team lost.
Darkfield: Séance (2025): A twenty minute audio experience in which I was locked in a shipping container with around twenty strangers — plus one(1) emotional support friend — in complete darkness and immersed in the world of a Victorian séance. Full disclosure - I wanted to be more scared than I was. As someone with a low tolerance for the horror genre, I figured that I would be easy prey for something like this and was prepared to be respectfully terrorized. However, I spent the full twenty minutes waiting for something genuinely unnerving to happen, and when the lights came back on all I felt was the residual discomfort of having an audio recording of a man whispering directly into my ear.
Stardust: A period tracking app designed in the same vein as Co-Star - there are little quizzes you can take (I’m a pink cycle witch + fire element healer, and will be working that information into my LinkedIn), places to log your symptoms, a moon chart, and a partner feature that allows you to cast ‘magic spells’ on your significant other (ie. sends them a notification that you want chocolate). I’ve been having a marvelous time with the free trial, but probably won’t invest in the actual paid app simply because my phone has trouble loading some of the app features.
father figure: a gift guide (2025) from milk fed: I adore everything Caitlyn writes, and something about this gift guide was just so comforting and beautifully curated. A number of these recommendations have already made their way onto my own wishlist and I have reserved a copy of The Death of Ivan Ilyich. As someone raised by a single mother, the identification of adorable father ‘types’ was also intriguing from an outsider’s perspective (this is how I imagine people feel about labubus).
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