Saturday through Wednesday, I binge watched four episodes of Veronica Mars, at least eight episodes of Smash, two episodes of Sherlock and the most recent episode of Downton Abbey. I also coughed up a lung.
Binge watching televisions shows has garnered quite a lot of media in the past few months. Technically, my germ-infested viewing didn’t meet the true criteria for binge-watching. I didn’t actually watch a whole series of anything. I watched TV as something to do (almost to listen to) because my head was so stuffed up with crud that it hurt to read and then if I sat quietly, I didn’t cough either.
I’m not normally a binge watcher. My tolerance for TV extends to about one episode, or maybe two. I personally like this Slate article about what is lost when one binge watches. I particularly like the idea that cliffhangers need time to breathe, like a good red wine. (This article advocates that binge-watching is in part a technique for keeping up with content we need to know to stay socially relevant.)
As frustrating as reading series can be, it’s this element of suspense that is what makes them for me. Writers like Rachel Caine, Jim Butcher and Rachel Vincent excel at raising the stakes and understand this. At the end of the book, the reader is left with ongoing questions of how the protagonists are going to get out of this jam. And then, readers have to wait a good year for the next book. Talk about suspense having time to breathe.
Now that I’m on the road to recovery, my TV viewing will go back to a normal schedule. Or mostly. I’m feeling the need to re-watch all of Veronica Mars before this happens: