To The Duffer Brothers: Thanks For Giving Me An Opportunity To Relive The Best Years Of My Life.

 

To Matt & Ross Duffer, 

This is a standing ovation from a Gen-X kid who grew up in the '80s, the era you so wonderfully resurrected in Stranger Things. 

I finished watching the Stranger Things finale the same day it was released. I watched it with trepidation, sadness, and tears. It's been almost ten years of amazing entertainment and jumping back through time, revisiting memories of an era I didn't even realise I had lost. 

You gave me back something I didn't even know I'd forgotten; not just the memories but the feeling of growing up in the '80's. 

Of course, I never forgot the movies I loved and the music I listened to growing up. But bringing back the sensory memories was amazing, the ones that lived below conscious thought. The feeling of complete freedom riding around on my bicycle. Being outdoors the whole day and having friendships that felt carefree and deep, because at that age, they were.

Stranger Things didn't just remind us of the 80's. It unlocked them. Suddenly, we remembered things we didn't know we'd forgotten and realised we'd been carrying them all along, waiting for someone to show us it was real, that it mattered, that we hadn't imagined how different childhood used to be. 

You nailed it. 

Because you didn't just recreate the 1980's, you remembered what it felt like to live through them. 

Capturing The Details Of The 80's Perfectly.

Other shows have tried to capture the '80s. They throw in some synthesisers, post a few movie posters around the set, and maybe add a Rubik's Cube for good measure. But you? You understood that the '80s weren't just an aesthetic; they were a specific frequency of childhood freedom that was uniquely experienced by a child growing up in that era. 

The way we were as kids, just... leave our houses. On bikes. For hours. No cell phones, no GPS trackers, no scheduled playdates. Just us, outdoors, under the sun the whole day, returning, for me at least, just before nighttime. 

Our parents genuinely didn't know where we were, and that was just normal. Watching Stranger Things, I remembered that freedom to just be without constant supervision or documentation. 

I remembered the worlds we created for ourselves. In Stranger Things, it was kids playing D&D in the basement, for me it was hanging out at the neighbourhood park, the library and a huge drainage area that my friends and I used to sit and play house. These areas were not just locations, they were sacred ground. 

No Childhood Was Perfect

But here's where you really earned my respect: you didn't sanitise our childhood. 

The '80s weren't all BMX bikes and Saturday morning cartoons, and you knew that. You gave us the Upside Down, which is such a perfect metaphor for what it was like to be a kid then, this understanding that darkness existed parallel to our adventures, that real monsters lived in the world even as we fought imaginary ones. 

We were raised on Poltergeist and Gremlins, on movies that terrified us but our parents allowed us to watch anyway. We watched E.T. and cried when he had to leave Elliot behind. You understood that our pop culture didn't protect us from sad endings or fear but taught us how to process it. 

The bullying in Stranger Things isn't a subplot; it's environmental. Troy and his crew aren't after-school special villains - they're an ever present threat. I was lucky and was never bullied as a child but kids can be mean without intending to and these are the kids I try to avoid, making me map my routes to avoid certain streets, certain bathrooms, certain parts of the playground. 

I recently saw a video of someone asking if the 80's were really like how it was depicted in the show. They couldn't fathom how kids that age were allowed to freely roam in and out of the house without supervision. They asked, what happened to the adults? They were around but mostly oblivious, absent, or overwhelmed. Just like real life. 

You Trusted the Kids (and Us)

What strikes me the most is that you trusted your young characters the way our best '80s movies trusted us. 

Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and Will aren't miniature adults spouting wisdom beyond their years. They're legitimately smart kids who say "shit" and fight with each other and don't always know what to do. They're brave and scared simultaneously. They plan brilliant strategies and make catastrophically stupid decisions. That's just reflective of real life. 

And Eleven.... You took a character who could have been pure plot device, the girl with powers, and gave her deep humanity. Her journey from weapon to person, her struggles with language and identity and belonging, her fierce protection of her friends despite barely understanding friendships... Well, thats all the stuff we remember from the movies we loved. 

That's E.T., that's Edward Scissorhands, thats every outsider I ever rooted for. 

The Scenes I Recognized (And My Kids Didn't)

You know what made me lose it?

When Joyce Byers asked if they needed a "flux capacitor" and I laughed so hard I snorted. My kids just stared at me like I'd lost my marbles. They had no idea why that scene was comedy gold. 

I think thats the genius of what you did - you wove in the DNA of every movie we watched on VHS until the tape wore out. 

I saw it all. 

Every reference, every homage, every loving nod. The kids on bikes with flashlights? So E.T., shot for shot. Eleven lifting the van? Felt like her using her telekinetic powers just like in Carrie. The government conspiracy and kids outsmarting adults? The Goonies meets E.T. meets every other movie we saw growing up. The Christmas lights spelling out messages? Poltergeist, but make it about love instead of terror. 

The lab breakout scenes. Eleven's shaved head and hospital gown, the sinister scientists, that's every "evil government experiment" thriller we devoured. Firestarter (when Drew Barrymore was so cute), maybe a little bit of the Scanners. 

And the way you shot certain scenes, it felt like you were deeply inspired by Spielberg's work. But you were not copying. You were speaking language kids from the '80s understood, using visual vocabulary that shaped how we understood adventure and danger and friendships. 

My kids watched Stranger Things and loved it. I watched Stranger Things and felt like I had this double vision - seeing the show you created and seeing all the movies that may have inspired critical scenes from the show. When I tried to explain the references, my kids looked at me the same way I must have looked to my parents when they tried to explain their childhood references. 

And that's the beauty of what you've created; you'd made something that worked on two levels. For kids today, it's a great story. For us? It's a love letter written in a code only we can fully crack. 

Now, Let's Talk About The Music!

Can we also talk about the soundtrack?

Because guys, you did your homework. You didn't just license some popular '80's hit and call it a day. You understood that music was a big part of our growing up. The Clash, Joy Division, Toto, these weren't just songs we heard; they were the frequencies we lived on. 

But there were some eye-roll moments. Like when my kids belted out Kate Bush's "Running Up That Hill" and said, "This new song is so cool, Mum," without realising it was from my era. I just smiled and let them have it. At least you brought our music back.

The Ending Only Adults Could Fully Understand

I think you wrapped up the show quite nicely but here's what really got me about the finale: The moments I feel only adults would truly appreciate. 

When Nancy, Steve, Robin, and Jonathan promised to meet once a month, we knew it wouldn't happen. My kids took it at face value, but I knew how life works. People drift despite the best intentions. 

And when Mike closed the basement door after watching the younger kids start playing D&D? That wasn't just him leaving the room. That was him saying goodbye to childhood, stepping into adulthood. My kids saw a scene transition. I saw the younger version of Mike he had to leave behind. 

Life goes on, despite everything. Friendships change. Childhood ends. You captured that truth without spelling it out. 

What You Gave Us Back

Here's the thing: 

Stranger Things became a worldwide phenomenon. People everywhere binged it, loved it, quoted it, dressed up as the characters for Halloween. It was a massive success by any metric. 

But for those of us who actually lived through the '80's, Gen Xers and older Millennials who remember life before the internet, this show meant something different. 

Everyone else watched a great story. I felt like we were revisiting our youth. 

You gave us our childhood back. 

But you also reminded us of what it was like to live in a world where our parents couldn't text us every five minutes, where we solved our own problems because the adults were uncontactable and probably dealing with their own mess. 

You remembered that we were the last generation to have a fundamentally analog childhood, and you captured both the magic and the terror of that. 

So thanks, Matt and Ross. Thank you for taking our childhood seriously enough to get it right. Thank you for understanding that the '80's weren't just a decade. They were a frequency, a feeling, a very specific kind of freedom and fear mixed together. 

Thank you Stranger Things for almost 10 years of reminiscing the past and for great storytelling that brought out the truth of what it was like growing up in that era. 

Now, if you'll excuse me. I have to go blast some Clash.

Ray Bradbury's The Playground Made Me Rethink How I Parent.

I just finished listening to Ray Bradbury's The Playground on Audible, and I've been thinking about how I parent my children.

Bradbury is known for writing stories that linger long after they end. If you've read his most famous book, Fahrenheit 451, I know you'd agree. He's talented at placing ordinary people in ordinary settings while quietly exposing something unsettling about human behaviour. 

The Playground did exactly that.

I was going through my Audible library and stumbled across this one. It was only 45 minutes, and I thought it would be a good way to kick-start my reading in 2026 with something short.

In a nutshell, Ray Bradbury's The Playground is about a widower, Charles Underhill, haunted by his childhood bullying and desperately trying to shield his 3-year-old son, Jim, from the same experience at a local playground.

At its core, this isn't really a story about children. It's a story about fear, grief, and the way love can slowly turn into control when it's driven by anxiety.

The Audiobook Review

I enjoyed listening to this. Finished it in one day during my drive to and from work. Not sure when the audiobook was recorded, but the narration reminded me of those classic storytelling style they used to do for radio. 

What starts as a story of a grieving, overprotective father suddenly becomes a supernatural event where the Underhills make a decision that impacts their lives forever.

It's only a 45-minute listen, and while I wouldn't say it was absolutely enjoyable, it's short enough to get through. For me, it made me reflect on how I parent my kids.

If you have 45 minutes to spare, I'd recommend listening to it. Ray Bradbury's work is worth the time.

Are We Overcompensating As Parents?

Listening to this made me reflect on how differently many of us parent today compared to how we were raised.

Many of us grew up with way less supervision. Our parents didn't monitor us constantly or track our every move. We made mistakes, scraped our knees, got into trouble, and figured things out on our own.

That freedom didn't make us reckless. If anything, I think it made us resilient.

Today, many of us parent by overcompensating. We know more. We see more. We're constantly exposed to stories of what can go wrong. So we buffer, protect, and manage—sometimes down to the smallest detail.

And The Playground made me pause and ask an uncomfortable question:

Are we protecting our children, or are we trying to protect ourselves from our own fears?

What The Playground Made Me Rethink

Bradbury doesn't argue for neglect or reckless parenting. What he does, at least for me, is hold up a mirror, which can be unsettling.

When fear becomes the foundation of parenting, even love can become suffocating. Children don't build resilience in perfectly controlled environments. They built it through:

• Small risks
• Mistakes
• Discomfort
• Learning where their own limits are

The playground, literal or metaphorical, is where that happens.

This story made me rethink how I parent my kids, not with guilt, but with awareness.

Maybe strength isn't built by removing danger entirely. Maybe it's built by allowing space for independence, even when letting go feels terrifying.

And maybe the hardest part of parenting isn't keeping our children safe from the world, but making sure our own fears don't quietly shrink theirs.

Book Review: Alchemised by SenLinYu

I've never read the Harry Potter fan fiction Manacled, which Alchemised is based on. 

So I went into Alchemised with no prior background of the book that was popular amongst Dramione fans. I picked this book up mostly because of the hype I kept seeing on BookTok and, well, simply because I'm a Harry Potter fan. 

I was also curious after reading about the author, SenLinYu. Manacled was so popular that she received offers to publish Manacled as a book, which was then reproduced as Alchemised to avoid copyright issues with the Harry Potter franchise, and even received a movie deal shortly after. 

When a book gets offers left, right, and centre like that, you start thinking... okay, this must be good, right? 

What is Alchemised About?

Helena Morino - Official artwork from Avendell

Alchemised is a dark fantasy romance set during a brutal war against the Undying. 

The central character is Helena Morino, a healer who tends to wounded Resistance soldiers. This book carries heavy themes around war, power, blind religious loyalty, female status in society and how narratives can be manipulated to serve those in control. 

But beneath all that? 

It's also a deeply intense love story between a spy and his handler. Two lonely people who fell in love during the war. 

Spoiler Free Review. 

This was a painful read, and I don't mean emotionally. 

At 1,040 pages, this book is heavy. Carrying it around actually threw my shoulder out, so I eventually caved and bought a copy on my Kobo. 

So what's inside this 1,040-page brick? 

Alchemised is broken into three parts. 

Part 1 was confusing. So confusing, in fact, that I stopped reading and left the book collecting dust for a good two months before picking it up again. 

The world-building was impressive, but the magic system and terminology tripped me up constantly. Animancy, vivimancy, necromancy, all the "-mancies" started to blur together. I found myself constantly looking things up repeatedly just to keep track. 

If you're planning to read this, do yourself a favour and print out a terminology list for reference. Trust me, it'll help. 

I eventually picked it back up during the long year-end holidays, and I'm glad I did. Trudging through Part 1 was worth it because Part 2 is where the book truly shines. 

I was so high-strung through Part 2 and the early sections of Part 3 because both Kaine and Helena faced so many challenges that when the book finally ended, it felt... flat. 

And that's where my mixed feelings come in. 

What lingered days after I finished was a feeling of unease. 

The story doesn't offer a clean finish. It doesn't reward sacrifice with recognition, and it doesn't provide a neat closure. That made it deeply unsatisfying yet strangely compelling. 

Long after I finished the book, I found myself scrolling through TikTok endlessly, talking to my book club members who had read it, trying to understand why the story stayed with me. 

Alchemised isn't a comfort read. It's a book that asks you to sit with moral ambiguity rather than resolving it neatly. 

And honestly, I'm still sitting with it. 

Some books end, and you go, "Okay, that was good/bad," rate it a few stars, and move on. 

And then there are books that live rent-free in your head long after you've finished reading them. 

This was definitely one of those books. 

So, would I recommend you pick up this book? 

Yes. It's definitely a one-of-a-kind reading experience. 

That said, please pay attention to the trigger warnings before you decide to jump into reading this book. This is not a light or casual read; it's the complete opposite. 

There were moments while reading Alchemised when I was completely drawn in.

But is it a five-star read? 

I can't say. I'll need to get back to you. I'm still processing. 

The part I really enjoyed in the book was Part 2. Part 1, as I mentioned, was confusing, and the ending, while unsatisfying, did make me think deeper about the themes. 

And with that, I'll stop here because the rest of my thoughts live firmly in spoiler territory. What follows are my personal notes and reflections, written mostly so I don't forget how this book made me feel. 

So, if you want to avoid spoilers, stop here. 

What Stuck with Me (Spoilers Ahead)

⚠️ Fair warning - spoilers below ⚠️

Sigh. Where do I even begin? There's a lot to unload here, and this might be a long post. 

1. Characters from the book

There are so many unlikeable characters in this book. 

Marrough is not the only villain. Ilva Holdfast, Jan Crowther, and especially Falcon Mathias, members of the Resistance council, were the ones I found deeply unsettling. 

What disturbed me most about the council wasn't that they were obvious villains. They were unlikeable not because they were evil, but because they were protected by blind belief, rank, and a narrative that conveniently suited them. 

Kaine Ferron - Official artwork by Avendell

On the flip side, Kaine Ferron is easily my favourite character in the book. Not because he's flawless or romantic, but because he constantly pays the price quietly. He keeps his promises. He carries loyalty, restraint, and emotional cost without recognition, and he feels like someone trying to remain decent caught inside a system that punishes decency. 

Also, his dry wit and humour genuinely made me laugh, which made me love his character more. 

Helena Morino, on the other hand, disappoints me at times. She's intelligent, capable, and deeply burdened by responsibility and deep loyalty to the Resistance. My frustration comes from the fact that she always prioritises the Resistance. Her actions mostly reflect that without fully considering the cost to Kaine. 

It often felt like Kaine consistently gave, while Helena gambled, and he absorbed the fallout. That imbalance felt unfair, and yet, I still loved them together. 

2. The Themes

There are so many heavy themes woven into Alchemised, from gender inequality and the ethics of power to how narratives can be controlled to serve a political purpose. 

But these were the ones that stayed with me the most:

One line that had me literally shaking my head in agreement was: "There's nothing to rival war to money."

Simply put, war isn't just ideology or belief. It's an economic engine. I think that single line frames the entire story well; it shows how war reduces human life to insignificance.

Another moment that lingered with me was the theme of blind faith. 

In the story, Helena is reprimanded for suggesting necromancy to revive fallen Resistance soldiers as a strategy to win the war. The idea is met with immediate backlash by the Council. It's labelled heretical and deeply immoral by the Resistance, whose ideology is built around preserving life and preventing necromantic corruption. 

In one scene, shortly after the incident, the Resistance is celebrating a win, and in one conversation, the belief is that the win came because they held firm to their faith, i.e. not agreeing with Helena on using necromancy, which shows their commitment to Sol. 

"They thought the war was being won because her proposal for necromancy had been so sharply reprimanded that the resistance passed some final spiritual test, and all the success of the last year was a reward for it."

This blind belief is dressed up as moral certainty. The Resistance convinces itself it's winning because it held firm in its belief. In their minds, Sol is now rewarding them for their righteousness. 

They were so deep in their faith, so convinced that belief alone can save them, that it ultimately led to the Resistance's downfall.

Then, towards the end of the book, after Kaine and Helena have escaped safely, they read reports that neighbouring countries are finally going to intervene and help free Paladia from Marrough's clutches, and this line hits hard: 

"How different it could have been if the international community had decided to put even a negligible amount of effort into caring sooner." 

Tell me that doesn't echo real life. 

This is where the book stopped feeling like fantasy and started feeling current. Alchemised doesn't just critique war; it critiques apathy. 

Alchemised also explores memory and truth. The novel comes across as a reflection on history itself: how records can be falsified, burned, or rewritten, and how those who shape the events are remembered as something they never were. 

Kaine will be remembered as a mass murderer, a figure of pure evil. Helena will not even be recorded, but behind that are two legends who sacrificed everything and fought in their own way to end the war. 

The world will never know the truth, and the idea that memory and history are illusions is what makes it devastating. 

This is what I think is special about the book: the author includes heavy themes but lets you think for yourself. 

I think this is why the book stayed with me long after I was done: I needed to process it all to understand where I stand on each theme. 

3. The Plot Twists

There are two plot twists in this book that really got me. 

Look, it's no secret that Kaine Ferron and Helena Morino are lovers. The relationship revealed between Kaine and Helena in Part 2 wasn't the twist; the timing was. 

What impressed me was how the author revealed why Kaine behaves the way he does in Part 1 only after showing us their history in Part 2. Things Kaine says early on in Part 1, his restraint, his exhaustion, his quiet loyalty, feel emotionally loaded even before we understand the full context. 

When their past is revealed later, those earlier moments click into place. It's not a surprise about the relationship itself, but a revelation about its depth and duration. The story doesn't change what happened; it changes how you understand what you already read. 

Hats off to SenLinYu for this, because she really managed to craft the storyline and merge it well as we move through the book. One day, I'd love to read this again just to see what I missed the first time around. 

The other plot twist which broke me was when Helena found out that Marrough had taken control of Luc's body, thus explaining why Luc was acting so strangely. By the time Helena realises what's happening, it is too late, and he ultimately meets his death. 

Luc's death completely shifted the emotional weight of the book for me. Especially the reveal that he was already lost before Helena realised it. 

This was the only part of the book that made me cry. 

Luc's death - Official artwork by Avendell

4. The Love Story

Kaine and Helena - Official artwork by Avendell

Helena and Kaine's relationship feels less like a traditional love story and more like trauma bonding, forged under constant danger, secrecy, power imbalance, and survival.

Their relationship is captured perfectly in this line: 

"They were the inverse and counter to each other. A healer and a killer, circling slowly, the push and pull inexorable."

 

 Kaine's love is quiet, protective, and possessive. 

"You're mine. I'll always come for you." 

"I'm going to take care of you. I swear, Helena. I'm always going to take care of you."

"If you die, Helena... I'm done. I won't continue this. I'm tired."

This isn't soft romance. 

Their love was built on loneliness and shared purpose during wartime. They didn't fall in love despite the war; they fell in love because of it.

Both were deeply isolated long before they were romantically involved: Kaine by duty and conditioning. Helena by responsibility and moral burden. Working toward the same goal forced proximity, trust, and dependence in a world where genuine connection was rare. 

War compressed time and intensified emotion, turning shared agenda into intimacy. Their love becomes both refuge and risk, not ideal or pure, but deeply human. 

And maybe that's why it felt so powerful, and so fragile at the same time. 

5. The Ending

The problem I have with the book's ending is that it felt flat. 

The reason? 

There was so much intensity in Parts 2 and 3 leading up to the end that, when Helena and Kaine finally managed to make their escape, I was anxious. I kept thinking they were going to get caught, or recognised, or that Marrough would somehow find out and go after them. 

Then, when they finally made their escape to the island and seemed to live a happy life, it was a good ending, but the anticipation made it fall flat. 

I was, however, left with an ending where I really felt sorry for their daughter Enid, who eventually returns to Paladin to pursue her studies, only to end up reading a distorted narrative of her father, the merciless killer, and the mother who had sacrificed everything but wasn't given any recognition. 

That ending sat with me because I realised that their greatest sacrifice in the war was anonymity. 

While the ending didn't break me, it still stayed with me, and maybe, that was the point. 

6. Final Thoughts

Alchemised might look like a fantasy novel on the surface, but at its core, it's a war story. One that strips away any illusion of glory or simple morality. 

What makes it a powerful story is its refusal to divide its world into good and evil. There are no heroes in war, only people driven by their philosophies, fears, and desperate choices. 

In war, nobody truly wins. 

And at the centre of it all is a love that's not romantic in the traditional sense. It's tragic, painful and achingly human. 

Quotes I'm Keeping

• "I think the hospital's worse than the battlefield ... in the hospital, every battle looks like losing."
• "In combat, there's no difference between an angry person and a stupid one."
• "Do as I say, not as I do."
• "I thought we could suffer enough to earn each other."
• "Women were always defined by the lowliest thing they could be called."
• "Love isn't as pretty or pure as people would like to think. There's darkness in it sometimes. Kaine and I go hand in hand. I made him who he is. I knew what that array meant when I saved him. If he's a monster, then I'm his creator."
• "All those years. All the people she'd healed, her resonance knitting them back together so they could live to fight another day, and for what? So they could be tortured to death, or enslaved or - worst?"