Watching "The Sniffer" on Netflix–crime, odors, and subtitles on TV


Recently I have been watching a crime show on Netflix called “The Sniffer.” It is in Russian with English subtitles. After looking it up on Wikipedia just now, I find it is actually a Ukrainian show, though I was right in thinking the language was Russian. (My Russian goes no further than “nyet” for no.)
I started watching the show because of the premise—a detective who relies on his super-sophisticated sense of smell to solve crimes. Smell is an underrated sense and I wanted to see what they would do with it.
I’m inclined to think they give smell way too much credit for dramatic purposes. Estimating the age of the person who handled a piece of paper? And surely all the surrounding smells must create a lot of interference—other people who may have handled the paper earlier, for instance, or the drawer that it was stored in…
At the same time, I have to remind myself that dogs do some impressive things with their sense of smell, so perhaps not all the detective’s conclusions are as exaggerated as I think. And he does do research when a smell puzzles him. Most recently he bought dozens of strawberry yogurt products in an effort to determine what brand had that particular scent, on the grounds that the perpetrator likely worked at a yogurt factory.
Another interesting thing is the way the show attempts to depict the smells, using misty outlines to suggest traces of people in the air and flashing images of the specifics (the strawberries, e.g.) so that we don’t just see the detective sniff the object and then say, “Ah, a forty-year old man, non-smoker, and some sort of strawberry aroma, perhaps yogurt.”
Naturally the show is not all about crime and smells. There are story arcs for the people themselves—the detective, his love interest, his estranged wife who pops tranquilizers, his troubled son, and his partner who eats a lot of hamburgers and hits on women. Does his wife really want him back? I can’t tell. She’s a sly one, and kind of a mess.
I also keep looking for clues that this story is taking place in Russia (though I guess it’s actually the Ukraine—why “the” Ukraine? Is that just how I learned to say its name?) The lettering on signs is an obvious clue, and the police department (if that’s what it is) certainly looks unusual, but otherwise it’s hard to tell where it is taking place. Maybe I don’t know what to look for. I do notice that all the women who aren’t either quite old or quite young seem to wear clothes that show a lot of cleavage. That might just reflect the TV producers chasing ratings, though.
Thinking about it, I wonder if the furnishings are different. Some are clearly ultra-modern, all glass and spare lines and probably quite expensive, while others seem somehow old-fashioned. Perhaps what’s missing is the recliners and contemporary furniture. I’ll have to pay more attention in future shows.
I’d like to give interesting examples of places where the subtitles appear to miss the mark, using some odd expression that probably should have been translated differently, but unfortunately I didn’t write any down and can’t remember them now. I do remember one scene where the detective’s wife Iulia comes to see him and mocks him via security camera about his elevator, saying something that sounds a lot like “super-duper lift.”
Anyway, I’m having fun, though I suspect I wouldn’t still be watching if it were just another American TV show. Then again, maybe in that case I would discover that it actually has ingeniously clever dialogue.

Fantasy World-building and the History of Technology


One of the things I love about writing fantasy is that you get to create a different world. Since you’re making it up, you can fill the world with all sorts of interesting things that are impossible in the real world. Pet dragons, floating cities, dust that gives you prophetic dreams, … things that would make life very different if they existed.
However, too many imaginary things would overwhelm your reader—and strain your power of invention—so most of the food, clothes, and everyday objects will be borrowed from reality. But even here, you get to choose from a world’s-worth of civilization. Do your characters live in an agrarian kingdom, or are they part of a nomadic tribe? What is the climate where they live—temperate, tropical, or positively arctic? And what sorts of objects and technology do they possess?
But you can’t mix-and-match just any details you like. Cars don’t make sense in a stone-age setting. Where would they come from? How would they be fueled? Similarly, if you have horse-drawn carriages, you need carriage-makers, and they need leather-workers, wood-workers, and blacksmiths. These trades don’t have to play a role in your story, but their existence has to make sense in your setting.
One way to get a sense of what objects and activities can reasonably be combined is to choose a historical period—say, France in the late 1700s. Things that went together in reality are plausible together in fantasy.
For example, in the story I am working on now, The Slipper Ball, the MC’s family traditionally made and sold a really excellent pear preserve. Fruit preserves have been around for a long time, so that aspect isn’t a problem, but being able to bottle and ship them without spoilage is another matter. What equipment is needed? How non-industrial can I make this world while still making the sale of specialty jam plausible?
Glass jars could be hand-blown, but the rings and lids I use for my own jam are probably stamped out of big sheets of metal in some enormous, highly automated factory.  Hmm… a system using wax rings and metal discs existed in the 1830s, and that technology seems within this world’s capabilities. That doesn’t mean I’m going to bore the reader with the details of how the jars are sealed—the technology isn’t wildly out of reach and that’s all I’m looking for. For that matter, I could just have specified that one of the fictional ingredients, lemonroot, has amazing preservative properties.
That brings me to a related point—I want the world to be plausible, but I don’t want to go into a lot of unnecessary detail. I have scenes set in the kitchen, and some baking takes place there, so I probably have to decide whether there is a free-standing oven or just some sort of shelf set into a great hearth. I don’t need to discuss where they get the wood for the fire, since there are trees and forests nearby and the reader can just assume the existence of woodcutters or some equivalent tradesman.
Even if you do simplify your world-building by tying it to a historical period, inventions that coexisted in reality don’t necessarily have to go together in your world. The American colonists had both guns and printing presses, but maybe your world has extensive libraries and no firearms at all. Or maybe there are enough guns for the Wild West, but all the wanted posters and news-sheets are laboriously hand-lettered. Your imaginary world, your choice.
Furthermore, different geographic areas can have different levels and kinds of technology (within reason). The Fourth Kingdom needn’t be particularly industrialized if they can import their jam jars and iron stoves from the Second Kingdom. Since the story doesn’t take place in the Second Kingdom, I can skip over exactly how the Second Kingdom has organized its industry. The silk for their ball gowns comes from the First Kingdom, perhaps, which is known for its textiles. But whether that silk comes from silkworms raised on mulberry leaves, or domesticated spiders, or fields of silkweed doesn’t matter—it just matters that the reader knows their finest gowns have the texture and shine of silk.
And finally, no matter how much work you put into it, no imaginary world is going to be perfectly consistent and it isn’t worth the time to try to make it so. The important thing is to avoid having the reader stop in the middle of the story and say, “What the heck? You don’t weave on a spinning wheel!!* Even I know that!”
*Yes, I really saw this–and in a retelling of Sleeping Beauty, no less.

A Letter Is a Gift in Your Mailbox


Getting a personal letter in the mail is like getting a surprise present. It’s all wrapped up and you’re eager to find out what’s inside.
Actual physical letters are rarer and rarer these days, though ironically the availability of beautiful and/or interesting note cards seems to be greater than ever, thanks to ease of printing small batches and all the special effects possible in print, not to mention on-line shopping at etsy, for instance.
Note cards come in an amazing variety.
So maybe you’d like to send someone a letter or card, just to give them a pleasant surprise in the mailbox. Why not have some fun writing it? There are so many options.
First, there’s the paper. Really, any paper will do. Notebook paper is fine, if you write better with blue lines to guide you. Otherwise, there are all those amazing cards to choose from, as I mentioned earlier, or nice stationery (though I suspect the choices in plain stationery have decreased.) If you’re feeling creative, you can always make your own card. Pen-and-ink, rubber stamp, colored pencil, cut-and-paste (actual or virtual), watercolor-over-crayon,… Making the card by hand is traditional when it is from child to grandparent, but there’s no reason an adult can’t make a card for a friend.
postcards from museums, living history museums, beaches, and art postcards
Postcards can indicate places you’ve been or seen, or not.
Then there’s the pen. The paper you are writing on may limit your choices. Fountain pen on loose-leaf tends to bleed. But there are still plenty of ball-points and gel pens, not to mention pencils, that are a pleasure to use on even the cheapest notebook paper. (Can you tell I love pens?) And if you are using nice paper, go ahead and use an elegant fountain pen (or a cheap, yet chic, one. Pilot MR, for instance.)
pencils, ball points, gel pens, and a fountain pen uncapped
Various pens and pencils
Of course, what stops most people is not a lack of pen and paper, but figuring out what to write. The first thing to remember is–given how rarely most people receive personal letters now, the bar is set fairly low. And while you may want to write a letter that is full of wisdom and will be treasured forever, letters like that have always been in extremely short supply!
(Letters used to be the main way to convey basic things like “Please send money,” “I miss you,”  “Your father has been ill,” or “We are very disappointed in your behavior,” going back to ancient days. So a lot of letters were probably not such a thrill to receive.)
So what will you write? There’s the usual “what I’ve been doing recently.” It may seem dull to you, but to someone you don’t see often, it’s still news. However, if this is someone you talk to on the phone all the time, you might want to write about something else.
What are you excited about? You must be excited about something. (If not, stop your letter and go work on your life instead.) For instance,
The latest season of “Death in Paradise” is now showing on PBS. I’m excited! Of course, they’ve replaced every character from the original except Dwayne, and if they replace Dwayne too, M and I may quit watching altogether.
The original detective inspector Poole was so delightful—why was that? Something about his grouchy, fussy, detail-oriented self was really entertaining. But the actor wanted to spend more time with his kids, instead of spending time in the Caribbean, and who can blame him for that?
You could be excited about something small, like a book or a movie. Or it could be an idea or a project you’ve started. Or maybe you are about to go on a trip, move, or change jobs. Even if the fact of it isn’t news to your recipient, some of your thoughts about it may be.
Maybe you talk to this person on the phone so often, you’re thinking, “What’s left to talk about?” Well, give it some thought. There may be things you didn’t have a chance to go into detail about, or you’ve thought about some more since the last conversation. Or maybe it would be fun to do something else entirely and just describe what is happening around you at the moment–set the scene for your reader, so they can share the moment with you, at long distance and delayed in time.
I’m sitting in my kitchen typing on my iPad. I don’t know why I often sit here instead of at my desk, or the little table I put near the window with the nice view, or out on the porch. Well, I sort of  know why. My desk is too messy, and right now it is over 80 degrees outside, so the porch is a bit too hot to be pleasant. Still, the seat by the window would be an improvement. Maybe after I make a cup of tea. (In this heat, I’m still drinking hot tea? Maybe I’ll make that iced tea with orange juice, instead. Or regular sweet tea.) The cats are lying around the living room, Pearl on the sofa, Conga sprawled on the floor (she was outside, and black cats do heat up on sunny days). I wonder if she would enjoy having a cool cloth laid on her. Probably it would be too strange a sensation for her.
If you’re up for it, you could send a riddle or a puzzle, or draw a doodle, or clip something out of the paper/magazine. (Yes, I know, that’s what Facebook is for. But getting an actual clipping in your mailbox is still more like a surprise present than seeing a post on Facebook.)
Having written, you enclose the note in its envelope. If you have stickers, you can put one on the back for decoration. Or stamp it with a rubber stamp, or draw a doodle on it. Or none of these, if doing so would delay you in getting the thing in the mail. Remember,
A plain letter that gets in the post is 100 times better than a great letter that never leaves the house.
gold ink doodle on the back of an envelope