Whimsical little stories that are tied together by the Hobgoblin's hat, which has the magical power to change things into something else. A lot of these episodic scenes are the ones that I'm most familiar with because of the tv-series.

The Hattifatteners are equally creepy here, and part of the reason why I've never felt comfortable with them is that they look brain-dead. They don't do anything, they just are and wander around in hordes looking like the ghosts of wet socks with limited means of communication. At least they jolted the vapid Snork Maiden and her vanity a bit, and made Hemulen to think twice before stealing other people's property again. He was so obsessive about his collection, that he didn't realize to stop and marvel at the beauty of it. Moominmamma on the other hand was thinking about herself for once, and represented all mothers who occasionally want some peace and listen to the rain while taking a nap.

Although this were fun, I didn't really get as much out of this as I did from the previous book. It wasn't necessarily the episodic structure, but the lightheartedness. I'm mostly looking forward to the later books, that have a different approach and that are apparently more philosophical. Not to say this wasn't bad, quite the opposite.

The ending of the last story here was superb. A dreamy garden party with fireworks, lanterns, Moominpappa's punch, fruit, berries, sandwiches, Moominmamma making pancakes in a bathtub, and loads of dancing and having fun. Like Moominpappa says, summer in the Nordic countries is short, so everyone should be as happy as possible.

Everything ties into acceptance and growing up. The hat might be able to change things, but no person can change another one. Sometimes we have to let others leave so that they can come back again. Everybody's different with different needs. Some should have the opportunity to go on adventures by themselves, and find the peace to enjoy the company of others again.

"Someone who eats pancakes and jam can't be so awfully dangerous. You can talk to him."

Another Audible credit purchase. I don't even remember what I bought first, but as soon as I saw this, I returned that one faster than lightning. Since I've been a fan of The X-Files from a very young age, I just had to try this (and come on, it was free). I'm not familiar with the comics, because although I've been reading the Buffy continuation with gusto, for some reason I haven't been that interested in X-Files stuff in written form.

Cold Cases (sequel, Stolen Lives to be published in October) is essentially an adaptation of those Joe Harris comics, and the reason why it's so successful is because it approaches the story as a dramatization/radio drama as opposed to just being a regular audiobook. The production is excellent with vivid sound effects, but obviously the format forces a bit of clumsy exposition in the dialogue, because the listener has to become aware of what the characters are seeing in front of them. This wouldn't be a problem in a normal audiobook, but the story also wouldn't become alive in the same way.

You couldn't imagine this without Duchovny and Anderson, but there are other familiar voices as well to give that extra feel of authenticity. The acting is a tiny bit wavering, probably because it's different to react to situations live than just reading the dialogue, but overall I think everyone does great. The exciting moments feel exciting, there's the humor we fans so love etc.

Would I buy this at full price? Probably not, but that's just because I wouldn't buy any audiobook for almost 30 dollars (hell, for me to even consider putting that much money into any book it would have to be very special). Still, Cold Cases is a neat treat for all fans of the series, and it fills in a few gaps along the way along with expanding the X-Files world. It's only a little over four hours long, so it's possible to finish it in a day, but I saved each episode for my summery bike rides to keep me company.

I changed my Audible membership into a lighter version, which means that by paying ten dollars for the next year (!) I got to keep all my credits and purchases. You can't get any new credit during this time, but you can still buy books, and more than likely I will do that. I mean, among other things, there's Alien stuff everywhere (Rutger Hauer!), and what would better suit the key ring hanging in the key to my ship's lock than actually listening to an Alien story while flying around?

A reference to a town called Vanity in John Bunyan's The Pilgrim's Progress (1678), Vanity Fair is an acerbic examination of superficial attachment to money and societal position, in addition to generally parading the rotten qualities we humans have. A nightmare to those who seek relatable characters in their novels, but delicious if you're entertained by people's stupidity and by following what lengths they're prepared to go with their selfishness. I'd have hated to be enemies with Thackeray, because his poison pen stabs everyone on sight, even the most angelic of people.

There's the brilliance, though. Naiveté and passiveness aren't held on high regard, but instead they are qualities that create more sorrow and confusion. Even the snow queen would melt on the sight of Becky, and her skills of manipulation have no equal. However, Amelia's girlish attachment to unhealthy relationships and her failure to see the true motives of people don't bring her any more happiness. Granted, the mistakes of others aren't really Amelia's fault, but her overly trusting and kind nature didn't do her and another person any good.

Becky's intelligence is unquestionable, because despite her poor background she manages to climb socially far higher than would have been possible for many others. She's also talented in many areas, so the contrast between that and lacking a conscience is striking. Through Becky, the shiny and sophisticated surface of the customs and morals of the upper class are peeled off and beaten into bloody pulp (in a very refined 19th century way).

Money is an excellent motive to pretend to care about one's relatives, and it gives one strength while patiently waiting for the inheritance. If a well-raised young woman is expected to set her eyes on money and a respected position in society, is it any wonder that an environment like that breeds beckysharps, who have absolutely no scruples about getting their way?

Becky's behavior is even more disturbing when it's clear she's in no way unbalanced, just a very determined woman wanting to make it in the world, and refusing to just lie down and take the blows as they come. I didn't believe for one second she really cares about Amelia, but she's definitely a force of nature in a cut-throat world and doesn't care whether she gains genuine friends along the way. Amazingly, she isn't the least bit slowed down by the people who manage to see through her, but her (and other's) actions become increasingly worse towards the end. All that makes her one of the most interesting and refreshing characters in classic literature.

Thackeray's novel was initially published as a monthly serial, which, as with Dickens, hints it might be somewhat laborious to plough through. Honestly, it kind of is. The labyrinthine side paths occasionally make it difficult to focus on the main point, and Thackeray's instructive tone seems unnecessary.

However, it's also one of those classics that reward the reader immensely, even if you're left feeling like a wet rag afterwards. It's the kind that revels in its satire and despicable characters without being pretentious, and offers (sadly, very brief) glimpses of the London scene with its cafés, ice cream parlours, and trips to Brighton. Thackeray himself also breaks the 4th wall several times with his forceful, sharp, and cynical thoughts. He challenges and provokes, and never enters the scene without the intention to poke someone in the stomach.

Despite its few shortcomings, Vanity Fair is vibrant, and through its incredibly detailed study of human nature (details which I think are all necessary), it also reveals something about ourselves by forcing us to look into ourselves and our behavior. Unlike Becky, we're able to develop as human beings and learn from our mistakes. Thackeray's dismal view of human kind is a chance. If it feels off-putting, you can ask yourself why.

PS. One thing that left me puzzled was the portrayal of black Miss Swartz, who reminded me of Dido Elizabeth Belle. The narrative mixed with the multilayered satire and Thackeray's commentary left me uncertain about who's the real object of ridicule, and apparently I'm not the only one.

Eh. Dickens gone wrong. You're pretty much doomed, if you start reading his books with this one. Dull and so not funny. This is Dickens's first novel, so someone might say he deserves some slack. Don't understand that statement. No matter if it's a first or tenth novel, if it's bad it's bad.

The Pickwickians are silly characters, who occasionally meet some person who tells them a story to be added into the books of the Pickwick Club. That's basically it. I think Dickens was just trying to find his voice, and took the role of a literary caricaturist a bit too seriously. Some of the stories were ok, but I didn't understand their function in the story itself. Maybe because I've always hated Humpty Dumpty that I grew up hating the Pickwickians? Oh well, now I've read the book that started it all.

BBC Radio 7