October 7, 2007
Style and me
Lately something strange has been happening between me and The Globe and Mail Style section. Once a source of inordinate wrath on my part, now Style is one of the parts of the Saturday paper that I enjoy most. Part of this could be down to the fact that I’ve become older, less poor, and less wrathful over the years. I’m still not really interested in fashion, skipping such features, but I do regularly read Style for the articles. Ha ha. But I do.
This also says a lot about Focus— namely that it’s disappointing usually. But Style seems to have become more substantial. And of course it’s no coincidence that Leah McLaren’s writing appears to have improved as my own knee-jerk bitterosity has decreased, but still some weeks McLaren’s articles are quite well-done. And nearly every week I find myself appreciating Karen von Hahn’s columns, this week in particular with “Why are women so angry? Pull up a chair”. I like Russell Smith’s column. I love the restaurant reviews. Even the gardening page, which pops up from time to time.
And okay, maybe I am becoming more interested in fashion (or at least less interested in perpetually resembling a hobo) because I took Leah McLaren’s advice a couple of weeks back and started wearing eyeliner daily, and I feel significantly more attractive as a result– and not just due to those who have informed me that I might be. This weekend Style celebrates my most favourite colour in the world, informing me that “red is the new neutral” and I feel as though my whole way of being has been validated. Today I even purchased the hat which Leanne Delap featured in her “Knock-off” column last weekend “Cloche Call”. (Which is a really tacky thing to do, now that I set it down in words, but it is truly a wonderful hat. See photo below).
So I have changed. It’s one of the best things about growing up, actually: you don’t have to so angry at everything. You also can afford to go shopping. And maybe all this constitutes selling out, but I am way less ugly these days, and Style is too. I don’t know if I’ve come down to their level, or they’ve come down to mine, but something is eerily synchronous. Which I’d worry about a whole lot more, if I weren’t so happy with my hat. 
October 7, 2007
Happy Thanksgiving
Our very first turkey dinner: this is totally a milestone. Deliciousness intaken. Everybody is sleepy. Hooray hooray for harvest time. 
October 6, 2007
Certainty wins
The best book wins again. (We’ll find out this week if it could happen for the Gillers too). Yes, because Madeleine Thien’s Certainity has won the Amazon Books in Canada First Novel Award. Deservingly– her novel is wonderful, and if you haven’t read it yet you should do so. I read it earlier this year and its power hasn’t left me yet.
October 6, 2007
Lunch
I had some marvelous lunches this week, and would like to pass on some recommendations. Dessert Trends Bistro at Harbord and Brunswick is as lovely inside as it looks from without. I had a roasted eggplant and tomato sandwich on olive bread, which came with a side salad and figs. Dessert was too much to choose from, which only means I now have to return again and again. I had a chocolate pear cake, which did not disappoint, and next time I shall go for the mango raspberry tart. And then yesterday I had lunch at Mangiacake on McCaul just south of Baldwin. As temperatures remain especially not autumnal, we sat out on the back patio, and I had a roasted vegetable sandwich, and a mediterranean salad (I do love feta). The food was amazing, service could not have been friendlier/more efficient, and we had their brownies for dessert, and everyone was particularly satisfied. Lunches are such a pleasure, and if you take yours at either of these establishments, they won’t be wasted.
October 5, 2007
Tropical Thanksgiving
Tomorrow night I’m scheduled to be roasting my turkey just as the temperature outside “feels like” 40 degrees. Hmm. Some October. Perhaps we’ll just sweat off the calories?
October 5, 2007
The Search for the Secret River by Kate Grenville
Australian writer Kate Grenville was sure The Secret River was going to be nonfiction. The story of her great-great-great Solomon Wiseman, sentenced to death for stealing in 19th century England, but sent to Australia instead. Though was she going to be entirely faithful to the facts, or would memoir creep in? Eventually Grenville would understand that answering such questions wasn’t going to be up to her, and that in order for her story to be invested with life, it would have to become a novel. When names are changed, history is freed, and suddenly the story grows wings, though this winged-creature is very different from what Grenville started with, which, with books, it seems, is often the way.
There was a memoir in all of this after all, though, with Grenville’s new book The Search for the Secret River. Though I haven’t read The Secret River I was attracted to The Search for… by promises of an exploration of the lines between fact and fiction, thoughts on writing by one seasoned in the art (who had written writing guides previously), and by a consideration of the implications of history. Grenville didn’t disappoint, and I do imagine that for fans of the novel, The Search for the Secret River will provide rich insight into its creation, a sort of fly-on-the-wall perspective, which is rare with authors and books.
I approached this book foremost as a writer, and found it valuable in this respective. The deftness with which Grenville slips her wisdom into the narrative, avoiding didacticism and alienation of those to whom such advice might not be applicable. Her “mantras”: Never have a blank page one; Don’t wait for the mood. “Never mind. Fix it up later”. Words which might ring emptily, were it not for their contexts. She deals with practical matters of reimagining dialogue, investing characters with life, how to write “the other”.
Divided into three parts, the first deals with her research into her family background, her understanding of the facts of her ancestors as colonials, the impossibility of uncovering history at all, let alone bringing it back to life. How “history” can take us so far in the wrong direction, and how often the answers are always in places we’d least expect them, and found usually by chance. The second part of the book is a fascinating recounting of how nonfiction turned into a novel after all, and the final third considers the practical matters of this process.
This was a most enjoyable memoir, the sort of narrative that only a novelist could write. And I use the term “narrative” quite deliberately, for this what Grenville manages to create, out of her fact, her fiction, and so many moments of her own confusion. She’s written another story, no more or less powerful for the truth at its core, but rather for the strength of its parts and construction alike.
October 5, 2007
Places to Go
Check out the fabulous promotional videos for Douglas Coupland’s new book The Gum Thief. Read Heather Mallick “perpetuating her own political views”, well according to one reader, though I thought, more importantly, that she’s written a great piece on language, in addition to any perpetuation– oh, but that an article can do two things! Take the Vanity Fair: Know Your Asshole Footprint quiz. Read Rona Maynard on Holden Caulfield. Jennifer Weiner, wonderfully, on talk in the blogosphere, and what woman are permitted to do, and be and look like.The Walrus loves Late Nights on Air as much as I did. (And how I am loving their new vamped-up books section this month).
October 4, 2007
More from Kate Grenville
“In the years after Lilian’s Story was published, our children Tom and Alice were born, and I added another mantra: Don’t wait for time to write. I learned to work in whatever slivers of time the day might give me– one of my favourite scenes in Joan Makes History was written in the car waiting to pick up Tom from a birthday party, on the only paper I could find, the inside of a Panadol packet. I had slivers of time, so I wrote in slivers of words: a page here, a paragraph there. Eventually the slivers would add up to something.” –Kate Grenville, from Search for the Secret River
October 4, 2007
So much history
“Was there so much history in Britain that it could be treated casually? There weren’t enough glass cases to hold it all”. –Kate Grenville, Search for the Secret River
October 3, 2007
An ideal marriage
An ideal marriage I have discovered, as indeed I am longing to get through the nonfiction books in my stack, but I can’t bear to give up lies for too long. So I am reading two books at once now, nonfiction complemented by a collection of short stories: the former being Kate Grenville’s Searching for the Secret River, and the latter is Jack Hodgins’ Damage Done by the Storm. Perfect! Why didn’t I think of this sooner?
Grenville’s book is wonderful so far, though I am approaching it from a strange place having never read The Secret River. It’s asking a lot of the same questions as Bernice Morgan’s novel Cloud of Bone, but from an Australian point of view, about remembering and forgetting, and the price we pay for either. Even some of the scenes are reminiscent, which is strange for two books of nonfiction and fiction respectively. And just getting into the Hodgins (one story before bed, you know). I’ve read his A Passion for Narrative before, and am excited to see his theory in action.
I have also become a compulsive squash buyer. Soon this will have to stop.
