January 6, 2022
What I read on my holidays…
The end-of-year holidays is my very favourite reading period, when I shun new releases and top of the bestseller charts, and devote my time to smelly paperbacks I found in Little Free Libraries, novels I bought at used bookstores years ago with the best intentions but still haven’t read yet, and other books that have been sitting on my to-be-read shelf for far too long. It’s also the holiday where I’m not travelling, where my days are mostly full of hours to fill with reading (staying in bed for ages in the morning, reading all afternoon…) especially since it’s also the time of year where I mostly abandon the internet.
I love reading in the holidays because I get to finally make a dent in my epic to-be-read pile, to feel less overwhelmed by all the books before me and to get down to brass tacks. It was WONDERFUL.
Dear Exile, by Hilary Liftin and Kate Montgomery
I first read this book almost 20 years ago after stealing it from the youth hostel where I was living at the time, far across an ocean away from my own dear friends, including one that was named Kate. And so this story of two friends post-college on separate continents was very resonant, I recall. And then I mostly forgot about it…until I realized that my next novel, about two best friends, had definitely been informed by Dear Exile. And so I purchased a secondhand copy online and read it all again, and was bowled over by how extraordinarily good Liftin and Montgomery’s writing is. I don’t think anyone would ever publish that I sent my friends in a book. Also offers an extraordinary glimpse of late 90s dot.com work culture, whose tail end I had a sense of a few years later. A more innocent time. THE CYBERSEX!
*
When Things Fall Apart, by Pema Chodran
As I’ve written already, I rolled into the holidays in a mental health crisis, and so this title spoke to me when I encountered it on the shelves of the best store in the city. Definitely the book I needed in the moment—this book has showed me a glimpse of a world in which I don’t always need to be freaking out about what’s around the corner and instead just focussing on right now. Even if right now is hard.
*
Rocks Don’t Move, by Shari Kasman
Kasman and I have been sharing a swim lane on Mondays for a few months now (and we will again!), and after I read about her new book in The Toronto Star, I knew I had to have a copy. It was a remarkable book to read after When Things Fall Apart, actually, which its emphasis on subjectivity. What is a fact? What’s a feeling? An opinion? And what is community? This book grapples with these questions rather marvellously.
*
Sport, by Louise Fitzhugh
I either found this book in a Little Free Library or picked it up at a used bookstore this summer to add to my Louise Fitzhugh collection—and when it still felt like things were falling apart for me, to sit in my bathtub one Sunday night reading this while eating leftover fried chicken just felt like the greatest thing in the world.
*
Dirty Birds, by Morgan Murray
I met Murray in November when we both attended the Wordstock Sudbury Book Festival. Our hotel was as far away from the airport as was physically possible that weekend, and so we had lots of time to get to know each other in the airport van. Morgan Murray is notable for being a man who read my novel who is neither my relative nor a friend (though I might consider him one now—he’s wonderful). His debut novel was also nominated for the Leacock Prize and was such a delight to finally encounter. It has footnotes, AND cartoons. I really enjoyed it.
*
Voices in the Evenings, by Natalia Ginzburg
I’ve read a Natalia Ginzburg book over the past two winter holidays, and so was excited to read this one, which came out in English just this year. Truthfully, I loved it less than I’ve loved her other novels, but I loved them a lot, so that’s not saying much. She’s wonderful.
*
The Flatshare, by Beth O’Leary
I found this book in a Little Free Library this fall and knew I’d be looking for something light and cheerful. Like the Mhairi McFarlane book I read this summer, it was not as light as you think, but that’s probably why I liked it. Great character, some emotional complexity. Initially I was a bit suspicious that a novel about two flatmates who never meet would work…but it did!
*
The Ravine, by Phyllis Brett Young
Phyllis Brett Young’s The Torontonians is a beloved novel for me, and The Ravine is a noir novel she published under a pseudonym a few years later, reissued by Vehicule Press’s Ricochet Books with an introduction by Amy Lavender Harris, who was the whole reason I discovered The Torontonians in the first place. I really liked it—sinister, over the top, but with some interesting complexity and bit of a Shirley Jackson/Peyton Place England edge.
*
A Room Called Earth, by Madeleine Ryan
I spent a lot of early 2021 ordering books online from indie bookstores and this one was a title I threw into the order to make it worth my while. I read it on Christmas, which turned out to be perfect, because it was set at Christmas, albeit in Australia. Madeleine Ryan, who is autistic, writes about a character who herself is neurodiverse, though this is not made explicit in the text itself. Instead, the reader gets to see the world through the character’s unique perspective, which is extraordinary.
*
Your Guide to Not Getting Murdered in a Quaint English Village, by Maureen Johnson
I gave this book to my husband for Christmas, as we’ve spent a lot of time watching Midsomer Murders together over the years, and it proved a lot of fun. Our daughter also read it and related because she’s a fan of Johnson’s Truly Devious series.
*
Orwell’s Roses, by Rebecca Solnit
I received Orwell’s Roses as a Christmas present, the latest from Rebecca Solnit, who’s become well known for her pamphletty essay collections on politics and feminism, but whose larger literary projects (especially informed by her background as a geographer) were how I fell in love with her work in the first place. In this delightful meandering book, she reflects on a garden of roses Orwell planted at his home in Wallingford, Oxfordshire, and how this and other factors complicate common perceptions of the writer. Orwell continues to be fascinating for his critique of the USSR and authoritarianism all the while not becoming a right-wing nutjob in response, which was the usual trajectory.
*
Turn, Magic Wheel, by Dawn Powell
I bought this book at a used bookstore years ago, and have been failing to pick it up for years. Dawn Powell published this in the 1930s and her obscurity has been lamented by such forces as Fran Lebowitz and Rory Gilmour. It is exquisite, sharp and clever, full of edges and surprises.
*
Eleanor and Park, by Rainbow Rowell
Rowell’s Attachments was one of my favourite books of last year, and everyone told me that I had to read Eleanor and Park, which I think we found at Value Village. And I really liked it.
*
If You Want to Make God Laugh, by Bianca Marais
Also so happy to finally read this novel by Bianca Marais, whose podcast has been a big part of my year.
*
My Mom Had an Abortion, by Beezus Murphy
And then this book arrived in the mail, which I’d supported through its Kickstarter—it was so well done, telling such an ordinary story that doesn’t get addressed enough—how many of us only exist at all because of an abortion. It’s a graphic novel geared to teens and manages to address what’s simple and complicated about abortion all at once.
*
To Say Nothing of the Dog, by Connie Willis
And omg, this book, this book!! Be still, by Dorothy L Sayers/Barbara Pym/Jumble Sale loving heart, all wrapped up in a bonkers time travel plot. This novel was a gift and such a perfect novel to be reading as the new year began. (Grateful to Lindsay for the recommendation!)
