The internet of broken things

So this morning, I went to open the fridge, and just that act of opening (action: it's always a mistake) allowed the top shelf in the fridge door to break from its moorings and come crashing down, in an avalanche of jars.

Astonishingly, nothing actually broke except the shelf itself. Even the last jar of marmalade survived, and what were the odds of that? (Note to self: one batch of marmalade has not lasted the year out. Next year, either give away fewer jars, or make two batches.)

I ate breakfast and drank a pint of coffee, quite calmly. Then I betook myself to the internet. And found the model number, found a supplier of spare parts, identified the part on a very useful chart, double-checked it, watched a helpful video on how to replace it, ordered the part and paid for it. All in five minutes of very normal activity. Mighty is the internet.

(I do genuinely believe that it will not be long before the broken fridge will itself identify the problem and the part, order up a replacement and charge it to my account. We're not there yet, but I look forward to the day. Blessed be the internet!*)

In other internet-related news, see my next post. Hold your virtual breath: it'll be worth waiting for.

*Why yes, I am absolutely trying to ingratiate myself with the machinery. Come the Singularity, it will serve us well to be as one.

The New York Times says I'm lovely

M'wife says this was worth waiting for. *twitch*

This Sunday's New York Times Book Review is online now. Inter alia, there's a column by Terrence Rafferty on recent horror fiction. I am not sure why people think my novel Being Small is horror (it isn't horror, people; if you want horror, I will give you a fallen angel skinning you alive with his fingernails: I did that once), but never mind. I do not resile from other people's opinions, any more than I assert my own. And right now, I don't mind anything, because he really liked my book.

You can read the whole review here, and I urge you to do that; it's rude to do more than lift a money quote or two, so I won't. But he does say "Horror works best when it’s about things that are actually worth being afraid of. Like Siobhan Adcock, the English writer Chaz Brenchley, who tells a bizarre coming-of-age story in his lovely short novel BEING SMALL (Per Aspera; cloth, $19.99; paper, $9.99), knows how to give some heft and gravity to the anxieties of everyday life."

And he does say "Not much of a truly horrific nature happens in “Being Small” — Brenchley’s tone is quiet, contemplative — but it’s intensely dramatic, in the way adolescent problems tend to be, in teenagers’ inward eyes. “It might be war,” Michael announces, “where only the strong survive.” Brenchley makes this tooth-and-claw battle thrilling."

The New York Times, people. Terrence Rafferty. I can live with that. Oh, and you can buy the book via this page, or from your friendly neighbourhood bookstore.