I’m all for analysing how tragedy is meaningful and important and so on but I do think people really underrate the “wanna see something fucked up?” instinct as a reason for engaging with fiction.
The sheep of North Ronaldsay in Orkney have been living on the island as far back as the iron age and have evolved to eat a diet of mineral rich seaweed
Fun fact: these sheep have evolved to absorb more copper from their food than usual, because seaweed doesn’t have much copper
But this means that if they try to eat grass they’ll die of copper poisoning, and despite centuries of seaweed diet they still REALLY want to eat the grass
This lady, Sian Tarrant, is responsible for keeping the wall up so the sheep stay on the beach
But the thing is that no matter if i’m charged with crimes against humanity and malpractice and embezzlement and treason and blackmail and plotting to murder and actual murder and murder for hire and possession and dealing and unethical research practices and elder abuse and kidnapping and theft and human experimentation… I have tenure