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Jacques and His Master, Milan Kundera, based on the novel Jacques le fataliste et son maître by Denis Diderot, English translation by Simon Callow. Readaloud. I'd read the Diderot novel some years ago, in French, in the Project Gutenberg version; I'm pretty sure some of the subtleties were lost on me. The play felt structurally a lot neater than the book, but I maybe just didn't appreciate the structure of the book? Like the original book, this adaptation was meta, but being a play it expressed its meta-ness in different ways. It played up the male-gaze-y aspects of the book in ways that were not so fun. However, I got to read the Innkeeper, who is the only female role with agency in the whole play, and had a blast with it.

The Strength of the Few, James Islington. A warned me that the book was not as good as The Will of the Many, and he was right. Adding fake-Egyptian and fake-Celtic plotlines to the fake-Roman story from the first book meant that the worldbuilding overall felt shallower. However I'll keep reading and hope for more payoff in later books. (Also I grumble that in this fake-Roman worldbuilding, words ending "us" pluralize to end in "ii", e.g. "stylii".)

The Life of Sophia Jex-Blake, Margaret Todd. I finished this, and enjoyed it; it is very much a Victorian Biography, but I like that sort of thing. (There is one modern biography of Sophia Jex-Blake, which I may try to track down for extra context.) I enjoyed watching Sophia come of age, visit the US to get a sense of the state of women's education, and finding her way to her calling as a doctor and an advocate for women's medical education. It's delightful seeing just how much of a Charlotte Bronte fan Jex-Blake was; she's so determined to emulate Lucy Snowe from Villette that she shows up at a school in Mannheim which has already rejected her application to be a teacher there, to persuade them to take her on in whatever capacity they can, which ends up being as an unpaid substitute teacher.

After that, we get a blow-by-blow account of Jex-Blake's long endeavour, not just to get a medical degree that will allow her to practice in the British system, but to clear the path for other women to do the same, becoming a minor celebrity in the process. (There's a funny bit about a letter than a young Robert Louis Stevenson wrote to his cousin, saying, roughly, "Jex-Blake is clearly on the right side of history, but I wouldn't marry her". Jex-Blake, who preferred women, learned about this letter many years later, and her reaction was "LOL, I clearly admire Stevenson more than he admired me, but I never had the slightest desire to marry him!") This is sometimes dramatic, as Jex-Blake and the rest of the "Edinburgh Seven" are admitted to the University and then have to deal with angry male classmates and a lukewarm administration that chickens out on them midway through, on top of their regular coursework; but it also gets a bit dry at time.

The closing section, about Jex-Blake's final years in retirement, has a special warmth; Margaret Todd is writing from memory, having lived with Jex-Blake through that time, though she has completely effaced herself from the narrative. It would be easy to blame Todd for not better documenting her own life and Jex-Blake's, except that her own story is itself so sad; as I understand it, she had become depressed and isolated after Jex-Blake's death, and died, possibly of suicide, just months after this book was published.