Nobody Knows Anything

Welcome to Diane Patterson's eclectic blog about what strikes her fancy

The rescue of the Russian sub

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On Friday I heard a fairly long news report about the Russian minisub that had gotten tangled in an undersea cable. The newscasters talked about how British and American technicians were rushing to the remote area with Scorpios (remote-controlled subs) in the hopes that the Scorpios could cut the cables and free the sub before the minisub’s air supply (which the radio report said was about 30 hours) ran out.

Good news: The British got there in time:

St. Petersburg, Russia — The seven Russian sailors trapped aboard a small, dark, cold submarine on the Pacific floor were rescued today after a British remote- controlled vehicle cut away the undersea cables that had ensnared their vessel.

British crews, who arrived while U.S. rescue crews were still en route to the remote Kamchatka Peninsula site, maneuvered their Super Scorpio unmanned robotic vehicle from the surface of the sea and managed to untangle the Russian Priz AS-28, Russian news agencies reported.

(The fact that the US crews weren’t there is mentioned more than once in the story, which I find interesting. Does everything have to have an American angle for us?)

I don’t know why this kind of story gets to me, but it does. I’m not sure whether it’s the idea of being trapped on a submarine—definitely one of my personal worst nightmares—or just the idea that in situations like this it’s still possible for everything to turn out all right.

Time to put Simon to work

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Who here thinks I should totally take Simon to these auditions? As my friend Rob said, “He’s a shoo-in for the role.”

(Okay, Rob didn’t really say that. I did. But he was thinking it.)

Dearly Devoted Dexter: the review

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I bought Dearly Devoted Dexter by Jeff Lindsay in hardcover. That should tell you how eager I was to read this sequel to Darkly Dreaming Dexter. Because I never buy hardcover.

Sat down. Read it straight through. Wished the next book were out already.

Dexter is the Energizer Bunny of serial killers: he’s still finding bad guys who deserve to be dispatched and, well, takes care of them. His sister is now a homicide detective who gets called to the scene of a particularly gruesome crime (despite the humor of these books, Lindsay doesn’t stint on describing the sort of awful things serial monsters like to do) and she asks Dexter for his particular insights into this crime. Only to discover that whoever’s doing this is wanted by more than the Miami Police—the guys in Washington need to find this guy, and fast.

Meanwhile, Dexter is being followed by Detective Doakes, who knows there’s something Not Right about Dexter and wants to provoke him into acting stupid. So Dexter does: he becomes a couch potato at his girlfriend Rita’s apartment and just the substitute Dad Rita’s two kids need. And then the most awful, unthinkable thing happens: Dexter gets mistakenly engaged.

Several times I read a particularly funny line aloud to Darin, who eyed me warily (I don’t think he quite “gets” Dexter). There are some seriously hilarious parts to this book. There are also some gruesome ones (but hey: you’re reading a serial killer novel), so be warned. Dexter’s voice and worldview are so engaging though—what grosses us out is merely fodder for artistic appreciation to him—that you can get through it.

I still don’t know how Lindsay is going to keep this going, but what he has so far is hilarious and wonderful. Dexter definitely stands out. Though he’s trying his damnedest to blend in with these human weirdoes.

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Sarah Weinman notes that Jeff Lindsay has sold two more Dexter novels: DEAR DADDY DEXTER and Untitled. Untitled??? Well, some of her commenters have good suggestions. My favorite is DEMONICALLY DIAPERING DEXTER. Because, you know: he could.