Hey Dana Jane

Tag: books

  • The Wanderer’s Lament

    Through fog-bound streets of ashen hue,
    Where gas lamps flicker, cold and few,
    I tread a path both dim and wide,
    Yet find no beacon at my side.

    The cobbled way, it twists and turns,
    Each corner mocks, each lantern burns—
    Yet never bright enough to show
    The place from whence I used to know.

    Oh, time! Thou art a fickle guide,
    With fleeting whispers, cast aside.
    Once, fortune’s hand did point me true,
    But now I chase the wind and rue.

    My purpose, lost to swirling mist,
    A name once held, now but a wisp.
    The echoes call in hollow tone,
    Yet every voice is not my own.

    I beg the night to yield its veil,
    To show some truth behind the tale—
    But fate, it grins, it turns, it jeers,
    And leaves me wandering with my fears.

    So on I roam, through gloom and doubt,
    Till fate or mercy leads me out.
    Yet should I walk these streets so grim,
    Perchance I’ll find myself within.

    -DJT

  • “Daisy Jones & The Six”: A Love Affair with the Book, a Love-Hate Relationship with the Screen

    When I first picked up Daisy Jones & The Six, I felt like I’d stumbled into the backstage chaos of rock ‘n’ roll royalty. Taylor Jenkins Reid didn’t just tell a story—she handed me a ticket to a time machine, took me straight to the 1970s, and let me sip whiskey with a band that felt as real as Fleetwood Mac. It wasn’t just a book; it was an experience. So, naturally, when Amazon Prime Video announced the series adaptation, I was ready to grab my headphones and crank up the volume. But while the book had me singing its praises, the series left me humming a bittersweet tune.

    Let’s start with the good, shall we? Riley Keough. Oh. My. Daisy. If there was ever a question of who could embody the free-spirited, self-destructive, magnetic Daisy Jones, Riley answered it with a mic drop. Watching her transform into Daisy felt like watching destiny. It’s not just that she has the Presley lineage—though let’s be real, that rock ‘n’ roll DNA sure doesn’t hurt—but she brought a raw vulnerability that made Daisy leap off the screen. Riley’s voice wasn’t just soulful; it was haunted, as if Daisy’s triumphs and heartbreaks were written in the very fibers of her being.

    But (and here comes the big but), the series felt like it was missing the magic dust that made the book so unforgettable. The book’s unique interview format allowed every band member to have their say, leaving readers to piece together the truth for themselves. It was messy, unreliable, and so human. The series, by comparison, flattened that complexity. Instead of feeling like I was in the middle of a stormy creative collaboration, I felt like I was watching a glossy highlight reel. It was pretty, sure, but where was the grit? The tension? The heartbreak?

    Billy Dunne, for example, was a man torn between his love for his family and his addiction to the high of the stage. In the book, he was frustrating, flawed, and so very real. On screen? He came across more like an archetype than a fully fleshed-out character. And let’s not even start on the way certain pivotal moments—ones that had me clutching the book in agony—were rushed or glossed over entirely.

    The music, though. Ah, the music. It was good, but was it great? The songs were catchy, yes, but they didn’t quite capture the layered emotions that the book conveyed so effortlessly. I wanted to feel like Daisy and Billy’s chemistry was going to set the studio on fire. Instead, I got sparks when I was hoping for a blaze.

    And yet, despite my gripes, I don’t regret watching it. The visuals were stunning, the cast was talented, and Riley Keough alone was worth the price of admission. But while the book felt like an anthem, the series was more like a cover band. It hit the notes, but it didn’t leave me breathless.

    So, here’s my advice: Read the book first. Fall in love with the messiness of Daisy Jones & The Six on the page. Then, watch the series with tempered expectations, and let Riley Keough dazzle you. Because even if the series doesn’t fully capture the spirit of the book, Riley proves one thing for sure: Talent like that runs in the family.

    Now, excuse me while I reread the book, play “Aurora” on repeat, and pretend I’m the seventh member of the band. Rock on.

  • Naming the Darkness: How Neon Angel Resonates with My Experience

    Reading Cherie Currie’s memoir, Neon Angel, was a deeply moving experience. Cherie’s story of rising to fame with The Runaways and the darker struggles that came with it is raw, unfiltered, and deeply human. One quote in particular struck a chord with me: “Because there is a certain type of person in this world, a type that has something black inside of their soul.”

    Growing up in my dad’s bar, those words resonated on a level that’s hard to describe. As a teenager working behind the bar, the threat of sexual assault wasn’t some distant fear—it was an ever-present shadow. I was only 14 when I started bartending, and by the time I was 16, I’d seen the worst parts of human nature far too often.

    There were always those regulars who had my dad fooled. They’d come in, shake his hand, and laugh like they were the picture of respectability. To him, they were “upstanding citizens,” good for business and trustworthy. But once a few drinks loosened their tongues, their true nature came out. They’d flirt, they’d grope, and some even tried to manipulate me into being affectionate with them.

    It’s difficult to explain what it’s like to be in that position, teetering between fear and self-preservation. I never felt safe around those men, yet I also understood the stakes. My dad’s business depended on these customers, and I didn’t know how far I could push before accusations would turn into drama—or worse. At 14, 15, 16 years old, I had no idea how to navigate that fine line.

    How much do you tell your dad when you’re that young? What if he doesn’t believe you, or what if he does and things escalate? These questions swirled in my mind constantly, leaving me feeling isolated and unsure of how to protect myself. I learned to smile politely, sidestep advances, and deflect with jokes, all while keeping my guard up. Looking back, it was a survival strategy—but it shouldn’t have had to be.

    Reading Cherie’s words about the darkness inside some people’s souls brought back those memories in a wave of understanding and validation. She’d seen that darkness too, felt it closing in, and fought against it. There’s a strange kind of comfort in knowing you’re not alone, that someone else has faced the same shadows and named them for what they are.

    Her memoir reminded me of the strength it takes to confront those moments and the importance of shedding light on these experiences. When I think back to that time in my life, I feel a mix of emotions: anger, sadness, and pride. Anger at the men who thought their behavior was acceptable. Sadness for the girl I was, navigating a world where she didn’t feel protected. And pride for the woman I’ve become, who’s not afraid to speak the truth.

    Neon Angel isn’t just a story about music and fame; it’s a story about resilience. It’s about naming the darkness and refusing to let it define you. For anyone who’s ever felt that shadow looming, Cherie’s words are a reminder that you’re not alone, and that your voice has power. I wish I’d known that back then, but I’m grateful to know it now.

  • Ranking the Best Period Dramas of All Time

    There’s something undeniably captivating about period dramas. They transport us to bygone eras, immersing us in tales of love, ambition, betrayal, and societal norms wrapped in layers of opulent fashion and historical intrigue. Over the years, some period dramas have stood out as true masterpieces, blending compelling storytelling with meticulous attention to detail.

    Here’s my take on the best period dramas of all time, including modern hits like The Gilded Age and Bridgerton, and the lessons they offer about history, humanity, and ourselves.

    1. The Gilded Age (2022–Present)

    Set in late 19th-century New York, The Gilded Age captures the clash between old money and new wealth. The show masterfully intertwines the lives of the Russell family, ambitious social climbers, and the Van Rhijn-Brook family, who represent New York’s established elite.

    Why It Stands Out: The detailed depiction of societal transitions, exquisite costume design, and strong female leads make this show a must-watch. It’s a reminder of how change is often met with resistance, yet it is inevitable.

    Lesson: Embrace progress and innovation while honoring tradition. Change is a constant force, and those who adapt are often the ones who thrive.

    2. Bridgerton (2020–Present)

    This Shonda Rhimes-produced hit reimagines Regency-era England with a diverse cast, sumptuous costumes, and a fresh, modern perspective on love and relationships. Bridgerton excels in blending historical settings with contemporary themes of independence, identity, and the pursuit of happiness.

    Why It Stands Out: Its bold storytelling and reimagined historical accuracy give it universal appeal. The orchestral covers of modern pop songs further bridge the gap between past and present.

    Lesson: The pursuit of love and personal freedom is timeless. Breaking societal norms can lead to greater fulfillment and pave the way for future generations.

    3. Downton Abbey (2010–2015)

    Set in the early 20th century, Downton Abbey chronicles the lives of the aristocratic Crawley family and their servants. It explores themes of social mobility, war, and the rapidly changing landscape of British society.

    Why It Stands Out: Its ability to balance the upstairs-downstairs dynamic gives viewers a comprehensive view of the era’s complexities. The characters are richly developed, making their struggles and triumphs deeply relatable.

    Lesson: Empathy and understanding transcend social barriers. We are all connected by shared human experiences, regardless of our station in life.

    4. Pride and Prejudice (1995)

    This BBC adaptation of Jane Austen’s classic novel is often regarded as the definitive version. Colin Firth’s portrayal of Mr. Darcy and Jennifer Ehle’s Elizabeth Bennet brought the story’s themes of love, class, and personal growth to life.

    Why It Stands Out: Its fidelity to Austen’s text and its stellar performances make it a timeless classic.

    Lesson: True love is built on mutual respect and understanding, and personal growth is often the key to overcoming societal prejudices.

    5. The Crown (2016–Present)

    While not strictly a “period drama,” The Crown captures the reign of Queen Elizabeth II with historical accuracy and dramatic flair. Its exploration of power, duty, and family dynamics makes it a standout in the genre.

    Why It Stands Out: The show’s ability to humanize iconic figures while showcasing key historical events is unparalleled.

    Lesson: Leadership comes with sacrifices, and history often unfolds in the tension between personal desires and public responsibilities.

    Honorable Mentions

    • Emma (2020): A playful yet faithful adaptation of Austen’s comedy of manners.
    • Victoria (2016–2019): A heartfelt portrayal of Queen Victoria’s early reign.
    • Peaky Blinders (2013–2022): A grittier take on post-World War I Britain with unforgettable characters and intense storytelling.

    Why We Love Period Dramas

    Period dramas aren’t just entertainment—they’re a lens through which we can examine history, culture, and the timeless struggles of humanity. They remind us that while fashions, languages, and customs change, the core of what it means to be human remains the same.

    Prefer books over television and movies? Stay tuned for my future post on book recommendations inspired by these dramas.

    What’s your favorite period drama, and what lessons have you taken from it? Let’s discuss in the comments below!