I have a problem. I’m compulsively driven to read the comments on every 13 Reasons Why article that crosses my Facebook feed. I know, I KNOW, I should know better, but here we are.
The one thing this practice has given me (other than stress-induced migraines) is a singular insight into the types of comments these articles inspire. All thirteen of them (HA!). Because every comment defending 13 Reasons Why against BLASPHEMOUS criticisms levelled by THOSE ASSHOLE mental health and suicide prevention experts comes in a finite number of variations.
So here I am, answering each one so I can maybe exorcise myself of the need to repeat myself in 7347687346 reply threads.
I don’t watch 13 Reasons Why, and I never will for very specific reasons, but I’ve been following its reviews – good and bad – because it stands to impact people, and it’s a subject I’m personally invested in for reasons that are about to become apparent.
Warning: I’m about to hit on themes of suicide and self harm. I’m also going to talk about the final episode so: spoilers.
This’ll contain spoilers, y’all.
So first off, I really enjoyed the ambiguity of the show as a whole in terms of unreliable narration etc etc but there were just SO VERY MANY storytelling flubs I’m surprised I didn’t end the season rocking in a corner. The most frustrating part for me was it has all the makings of a really tight, interesting story but feels like it was rushed off the line after the second draft.
So here you go, have my draft notes.
I’m a white, thirty-something woman from inner-city Brisbane, Australia, so when I sat down with a few friends—none of whom are black, let alone American—on Friday night and queued up the first few episodes of Luke Cage, there was more than a little bit of culture shock.
From the various odes to prominent Harlem hip hop and jazz artists to name drops of historically important black activists, there were multiple moments where I felt I was outside the conversation looking in.
And I was, which is fantastic.