Last Wednesday (I think) The Girlfriends’ Guide to Divorce landed on Showmax and then my husband and I had a fight about it for an hour an a half. Because that’s what normal people in normal relationships do, right?
So the fight wasn’t the fault of the show, of course (the show is fine – something to watch if you’ve run out of other things to watch, like I have) but either something that happened on the show, or the mere act of sitting alongside my husband watching a show about the dissolution of marriage, prompted me to ask him if he ever learns anything from the stuff we watch. My question was met with an emphatic no and then he seemed rather incredulous when I suggested that fiction as a whole can serve as a catalyst for personal growth as well as be a valuable source of entertainment. He looked at me like I was mad.
Of course this sent me into an unrivalled panic. The flippant rejection of the social importance of fiction felt like an absolute rejection of my entire being. After all, I myself am made up entirely of books stitched together with television shows! Books might as well be my parents! (apologies to the actual parents who are both lovely people but who cannot keep the look of how in the hell did we create this thing from their faces almost every time I open my mouth to speak…it’s the books’ fault, parents, it’s the books’ fault…and apparently it is the fault of my refusal to separate fiction from life…) (more…)