It’s for this reason that it took me some time to read Jenny Offill’s Weather, the follow-up to her critically acclaimed second novel, Dept. But it was the sort of situation where the next album, book, sequel, season influenced how I saw something that was once perfect for me, in a mild but negative way. It didn’t ruin the previous album for me or anything. I remember thinking at one point, “I love this album, but I’d hate it if their next one was a stale rehash of the same sounds” - which is exactly what the next one was. I’ve been a Tegan and Sara fan for forever (my favorite album remains The Con ) but like seemingly everyone I was immensely charmed by their 2013 album Heartthrob, which saw them embrace upbeat synth pop to great effect. There are plenty of examples I’m not thinking of. So I turned it off, and I’ve never been tempted to return to it, despite the fact that many fans of the show feel the second generation is the best. I was too scared, too nervous that somehow the following seasons would change how I viewed the first. And then in the middle of the first episode I just stopped.

After I watched those first two seasons, I naturally decided to give the next a try, and I told myself that I wouldn’t get caught up in disappointment when it inevitably didn’t move me as much. Just really hit me deep in my heart, as silly as that may seem to you. For whatever reason it caught me at just the right moment and affected me deeply. If you’re like me, you may find that art that you love profoundly provokes an odd kind of anxiety, a desire to not risk tainting that which was perfect.įor example, about ten years ago I watched and adored the first two seasons (the first “generation”) of the British show Skins.

Weather by jenny offill review