August 24, 2008
Summer Finds
So at the end of June, I vowed to stop buying books for the summer as my book buying habits had spiraled out of control. And I’ve been kind of true to my vow (not counting this lapse), as long as it is implicit in “stop buying books” that used/discounted books don’t count. I sure hope they don’t. I felt justified in buying these books also as they aren’t (or most of them aren’t) novels, which are my usual habit, and so these were something altogether different entirely. Barely books at all. Sure.
First, whoever makes the window at Ten Editions Books must know that I’ve moved in around the corner, because whenever I walk by there, they’ll be featuring my latest heart’s desire (which they’re somehow aware of before I am). It was from their window display that I bought Toronto: A Literary Guide, and since then I’ve also acquired Crumpets and Scones (a cookbook of tea things!) and Adam Gopnik’s essay collection Through the Children’s Gate.
Then I recently bought a much-on-sale copy of I Hate Myself and I Want to Die: The 52 Most Depressing Songs You’ve Ever Heard from a bindigo at Chin-chindigo. I’ve had my eye on this baby for a long time, and am already enjoying analysis of such tunes as “Tell Laura I Love Her”, “Freshmen”, “Let Her Cry” and “Honey”.
Finally, this morning I woke up and decided I would die without my own copy of The Long Secret, and so I was thrilled to find a copy at BMV and it will be my last reread of the summer. Earlier this month there I’d also purchased both The Essential Blake (inspired by my love of The Verve’s “Love is Noise”) and what is often seen as its companion piece, Don Freeman’s Corduroy & Company.
July 23, 2008
Birthday Haul
Due to bibliochaos in a variety of forms, I’ve not been able to show you the fine stack of books I received for my birthday last month. The top five a gift from my wonderful in-laws from across the sea where books are cheap, and so I’ve got Henry James’s Daisy Miller, An Experiment in Love by Hilary Mantel, and Penelope Lively’s Consequences before me. As well as two books I’ve read already but absolutely had to own– Rachel Cusk’s A Life’s Work and Ian McEwan’s Saturday. My friends Kate and Paul sent me Stalking the Wild Asparagus, in hopes that I’ll go foraging for muskrat and cattails. There is even a recipe for raccoon pie, but I’m not baking. My friend Paul and Hannah, his partner-in-goodness, gave me a copy of Red Wine on the Carpet by Mrs. Danvers (who is said to be a niece of the Mrs. Danvers). Nicola Barker’s Darkmans came from Bronwyn and Alex. The remarkable Rebecca Rosenblum blessed me with Forms of Devotion by Diane Schoemperlen, and finally the bottom three from my fantastic husband who always knows just what I need– Summer of My Amazing Luck by Miriam Toews, Garbo Laughs by Elizabeth Hay, and the breathtakingly marvelous This is San Francisco.
July 17, 2008
Everyday I violate some principles
So at the end of June, I vowed not to buy another book until September. (I haven’t announced this officially, hoping to avoid driving book stock further into the toilet). Because I have 27 books on my books unread shelf, I’m rereading all summer, and also because I feared that my book buying had become compulsive, and I wanted to prove that it wasn’t. I couldn’t. I already bought a book on Monday, and then I did it again today. But then how could I not have, for this is not just any book. Sigh, but when is it ever?
I’d never heard of Toronto: A Literary Guide until today, when it appeared in the window of a used bookshop calling my name. Published in 1999 by Greg Gatenby (of the International Festival of Authors), this sweet tome is a perfect catalogue of all the places writers have lived or visited, written or read, or congregated together in Toronto. Broken down by neighbourhood, written in a non-cataloguey convivial tone, with fabulous details, context, historical fact, dealing with writers working in a variety of genres, dating back to the nineteenth century. Page upon page of lives.
Let’s take my neighbourhood, “South Annex”, or a one-block radius of my house, to break it down more. Major Street has been home to writers M.T. Kelly, Janet Hamilton, Howard Engel, Albert E.S. Smythe, Aviva Layton, Leon and Constance Rooke, Michael Ondaatje and Linda Spalding, Charles Tidler and Martyn Burke. Gwendolyn MacEwen lived around the corner on Robert. The marvelous house at 84 Sussex was home of the new press in the early ’70s. Greg Hollingshead and John Bemrose lived there as well. Brunswick Ave. has been home to Janice Kulyk Keefer, Olive Senior, Maggie Helwig, Adele Wiseman, David French, Erika Ritter, and Karen Mulhallen. Do note these details (whose prose is far more charming than I let on here) take up three pages of 622. Which means that my neighbourhood is fabulous, and this book is tremendously rich.
Indeed I am one of those curious (and ubiquitous) creatures partial to the literary pilgrimage. How fun to now have so many now right outside the door, and a whole new book full of fantastic things to know, new connections. Awakening me to the secret history of maps I know by heart.
July 16, 2008
Scream in High Park
Our trip last night to The Scream Literary Festival’s “Scream in High Park” Mainstage was quite well-documented. Off we went, waving good-bye, with a picnic full of carbs in tow. Took the subway to High Park Station and then walked deep deep into the woods, and claimed some prime seating at the venue.
The menu consisted of pasta salad, Rosenblum bread, avocado scones, cheese, and sweet snacks ala Enright. But if you can believe it, such a delicious spread wasn’t even the main event.
First up was the magnificent Mariko Tamaki, writer of Skim, which I’ve been lusting after for a while. (See Tamaki to the right). She opened her set with a poem comprising Facebook statuses of yore, read and excerpt from Skim, and then an essay about ephemerality that was well and truly lovely.
Another delight was seeing Claudia Dey read again from Stunt. As a reader she is as compelling as Tamaki, though in a different way, and I would have run right out and bought her book if I hadn’t done so already.
I also loved Sonnet L’Abbé, Wayde Compton with Jason de Coutu, Ray Robertson and Motion. I would have loved even more too, except I had to work in the morning and so we left before the final set. And it was too dark by then to take a photo of us waving goodbye.
Such a magical evening, assembled there with friends and strangers. Inside a forest in the midst of this big city, a summer night that grew cool as the sun went down. Fireflies stealing the show, those luminous acrobats– I could hardly keep my eyes off them.
And in terms of the human performers, I’m not sure who stole the show most, though the lineups at the booksale provided a very good indication…
June 24, 2008
Bookish Happenings
I visited This Ain’t the Rosedale Public Library this weekend at their new location in Kensington Market. Which was my first time at This Ain’t… altogether, actually, so I’ve nothing to compare it to, but I was impressed. A great selection of journals and magazines, and shelves and shelves of bookish spines. I bought Girls Fall Down by Maggie Hellwig, because all the reviews I’ve read have intrigued me, and because I love the quality of Coach House books.
In other bookish news, I am beyond excited to discover that my favourite poet has a new book forthcoming: Jennica Harper’s What It Feels Like For a Girl is out in September by Anvil Press.
June 24, 2008
Found
Found today in a box by the side of the road: A Recipe for Bees by Gail Anderson-Dargatz and The Tiger in the Tiger Pit by Janette Turner Hospital.
Claimed.
June 1, 2008
Stumbled In
Stumbled into a used bookshop today, and stumbled out after with an arm-full. Some controversial: Birthday by Alan Sillitoe, the sequel to my beloved Saturday Night and Sunday Morning. Forty-years on, it is could be one thing or another. I also picked up Prodigal Summer by Barbara Kingsolver, for I’ve hardly read her at all. And then I got The Orange Fish and Dressing Up for Carnival by Carol Shields, and though I’ll read one shortly, I’ll not read the other for years and years, for these are the last two I have left to read, and I don’t want to live in a world without more Carol Shields to discover.
Now reading Girl Meets Boy by Ali Smith. Just finished Deborah Eisenberg’s majestic Twilight of the Superheroes.
May 21, 2008
New books
New books! On the weekend I got Stunt by Claudia Dey, and The Believer Book of Writers Talking to Writers (ed. Vendela Vida). Now reading In the Springtime of the Year by Susan Hill. Have just come down with an obsessive need to acquire a copy of The Summer of My Amazing Luck by Miriam Toews.
May 10, 2008
Fiery First Fiction
Oooooh– Fiery First Fiction! A fantastic promotion by the Literary Press Group. Events are being held across the country, and I’m looking forward to attending Monday night’s in Toronto at Supermarket. FFF is promoting 14 first novels published by Canadian small presses. Buy one at participating independent bookstores and get a free durable book bag– I just got mine, and durable IS the word. I love it. Though I could only get one book today (I am trying to curb book buying habits to no more than one daily) so I selected Things Go Flying by Shari Lapeña. And yes, I chose it by its cover, but I think I’m on to something good.
I was at the bookshop with my friend Bronwyn, which has always been one of my favourite experiences. She’d also brought her spare copy of Rebecca to pass along to me, so it’s been an evening of fine new acquisitions.
April 20, 2008
The whole world is out of doors
Though the weekend’s weather has been nothing short of summer, I’ve felt no desire to sit out on a restaurant patio. Mostly because I’ve got case of beer in my fridge, and my own deck just outside my door– such luxury! I’ve never known this before, and we can also open up the double doors into our kitchen and the whole world is out of doors. There’s been plenty of barbeque.
This weekend I picked up Lois Lowry’s The Giver for a quarter at a yard sale. We were in the mood for a walk and got to Type Books, where I picked up The Emily Valentine Poems. I finished reading The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, which was amazing. I like well enough every Bronte that I’ve ever met, but the characters here were dead ringers for people I know, 150 years later. This is disturbing for my sake, but quite an astounding literary achievement and certainly qualifies as “timelessness, so far”. I am so pleased to have followed this bookish recommendation.
