April 15, 2007
Home news
Big changes are a-coming around our house and it’s time to let the secret out: we’re expecting a new addition. This is the divide between our youth and adulthood, I suppose, and time for us to face up to our responsibilities, to begin to approach respectability. Never again, our salad days, but this change signifies a new era of possibility– aesthetically and ergonomically.
We bought a sofa. No more will our cheapest-in-the-shop futon be your sole option for asseyez-vousing when you come round. No longer will our apartment be outfitted like a college flat. A sofa: three seater, comfortable, classic. Our sofa: the most grown-up thing we’ve ever done.
And so the sofa was the point of yesterday. Luckily its purchase coincided with our need for a change of scenery, and we took the subway out to Main Street station to choose it. It is fortunate that Stuart and I have the exact same taste (good or bad, though he is less partial to tye-dye than I am) and so we picked it fast: exactly what we wanted. And then we walked the Danforth, all the way from Main Street to Chester to visit Erin-who-we-love. On the way we stopped off at the Chocolate Heaven Cafe (as heard on Metro Morning and as featured in the Globe last week).) We had dinner with Erin at Asteria Soulaki Place and it was the best Greek food we’ve ever had. Oishilicious. Today has moved at a slower pace, but highlights included She Said Boom for book purchases*, and Tealish to replenish our stock.
Book purchases: Happenstance by Carol Shields and Where I Was From by Joan Didion.
We are excited because tonight Curtis returns after two weeks of chaos in the United Kingdom. We are also excited because he might have brought us candy.
April 7, 2007
A large item
Stuart is not convinced but I think it’s the best thing ever. We found this vintage wardrobe trunk out on the curb tonight bearing a sign that said “Free- Take Me”. And so we did, and it’s lovely. It came with little keys for the lockable compartments, and is in fine condition. The trunk bears old stickers from passage to Glasgow, and all the latches work. It doesn’t smell, which is always important. I will admit we have no need for it and no place to put it, but it just seemed too perfect to walk past. And I am reasonably sure I won’t come to regret carrying it up the stairs and into our apartment. One day we’ll know we needed it. I do have much pity, however, for whoever had to lug it around when it actually contained things. I will not be taking this piece of luggage abroad anytime soon.
March 18, 2007
New books brought home
Last day is tomorrow for the half price sale at Balfour Books (601 College St.). We went yesterday, and I was devastated to find that the Penelope Liveleys and Virginia Woolfs I’d been hoping to buy were all gone. Clearly the shelves have been well picked over this week, but treasures remain. I was pleased to pick up so many books I’d borrowed from the library recently and subsequently fallen in love with. Even Stuart got in on the fun. He got two James Bond novels and The Water Method Man by John Irving. I got The Grass is Singing by Doris Lessing, which I’ve never read and I bought mainly because I wanted an old school orange Penguin cover. And the rest, I got Happy All the Time by Laurie Colwin, Saturday Night and Sunday Morning by Alan Sillitoe, and Huckleberry Finn. Sugoi! The shelves are happy to have them.
March 11, 2007
Other Springs
Late Morning March
The air through the open window is the same
as when you breathed for what you don’t believe in now
and such anachronistic miracles are dizzying
separating you from local time.
I remember every spring that came before this
linked in the smells the city makes.
The armature of scattered selves
fastening you to year-to-year.
I posted this poem last year, and wrote it many years before that. And while I don’t think it’s a particularly good poem, and I don’t even write poems anymore, it says everything I want to say about this time of year, so I feel no need to say it another way. Because there is something so evocative about spring time. I think one’s senses become primed after months of hibernation, and so walking around there is so much to see, notice and revel in. And it takes you back to other times you felt that way, other springs.
Yesterday we walked around as if in a time warp. The weather wasn’t even particularly good, but I wore a vest instead of a winter coat, and we could hold bare hands instead of gloves. And we stomped around places I used to know before I knew Stuart, and at the same time the weather and how we spent our time reminded us of passing Saturdays in Nottingham, and quite a few things happened that were exactly like in Japan. And so yesterday, which was a magical lucky day, we relived all our springs at once.
We got up early and I got three hours of work in, just so I would be happy for the rest of the day. We went up to Bloor and went out for lunch sets at Thai Basil, and then searched for treasures in the bargain basement at BMV Books. After that we went to Whole Foods, with a basket in tow so we wouldn’t look conspicuous, and went up and down the aisles eating free samples amongst the beautiful people. Our basket stayed empty. We went back to Bloor Street and looked at clothes after that, and got depressed because beige seems to the new black. (And we saw Pickle Me This reader Erica G. at the Gap. Hi Erica!). We went to The Cookbook Store next, and bought the three recipes books we don’t yet own by our beloved Jeanne Lemlin omnibussed in hardover and on sale for $13.00. What luck! I showed Stuart The Toronto Reference Library which he’d never seen before and he was quite impressed. And then he got new shoes, which he loves and they’re wonderful, and we got a box of cookies and a chocolate bar as a gift with the purchase. (?) We had tea/coffee at7 West after and looked at the paper. Walked home, and then had just about an hour to relax before going out again to the Jonker/Lev’s for dinner– but there was magic on the way, of course. The Bloor-Danforth Line had been diverted and we got to see Lower Bay Station! And then the rest of the night proceeded absolutely splendid, with good food and fine company.
Today is a little bit shorter, but yesterday stretched on so long, I am not bothered.
February 16, 2007
Fierce
Upon a recommendation, I read A Passion for Narrative by Jack Hodgins and found it so illuminating. I don’t really believe you can learn fiction from a book (except books of fiction, of course), but I’m right in the middle of my big project and reading such a guide at this stage is quite practical. Shines light on what might be wanting, and made me think of a few things I never even considered. And then I can go right to my story and apply what I’ve learned. The book also dealt with matters of structure I’ve been grappling with. My aim is to have my story done by the end of this month so that I can spend March dealing with it as a whole. Though this aim would be more achievable if February were just a bit longer. Though if February were any longer, I would probably lose my mind.
On lending books— most people who know me know me well enough not to even ask. Lending out a book fills me with terrific anxiety and I don’t feel better until it’s back in its home. Because as much as I love books as objects, I love my library as an entity even more. When I prune my shelves, however, I always make sure I give away the discards. I have a moral objection to profiting from books. I feel that karmically I will benefit somehow by spreading that love– whether to a college book sale, or a friend.
Now reading Ladykiller, which I would sum up as “fierce”.
My Valentines Day haul was ace: I got a box of Celestial Seasonings Tea. I gave Stuart a grapefruit. And I also made him a chocolate treat from a recipe in Globe Style (“Triple Chocolate Attack”), though I made plenty and got to enjoy as much as he did.
January 23, 2007
Shopping
Today I came home with the following in my bag: a bundle of spinach for our supper; an AS Byatt novel from the library (purchaed for a quarter); a Montreal-style bagel for my lunch; and two passport photos. The new passport photos mean I will no longer resemble a fat Italian man internationally, but I will now be going abroad as a fat Italian woman. Yesterday I got brand new brilliant winter boots, and a black turtleneck sweater. I might hasten to say that I’ve got everything I need.
January 12, 2007
Peppermint Love
I’ve just learned that my household has acquired Apples to Apples, which is one of the most enjoyable games I’ve ever played. Though I hate most games so my perspective is limited, and this one is bound to infuriate serious game-lovers, as it has no rules. Though I still lost at it when we played, but I lose at all games. It’s my constitution. And so that’s fun news, and more fun is that I’ve got a date with my husband this eve. We’re having company for dinner tomorrow night and I’m looking forward to that (as well as a chance to break out the game?). And so life continues lamely, but nicely.
I finished rereading Alice Munro’s Who Do You Think you Are? yesterday. What an incredible book. I reread the legendary Lives of Girls and Women last summer, and wasn’t as impressed as I’d wanted to be. I think that Munro was constrained by “A Novel”, and Who Do You Think…, while definitely connected, was obviously composed of short stories and she’s better at that. In fact, she is extraordinary at that. I know I’m certainly not the first one to say so. It’s just nice to be reminded. And I’m now reading Noah Richler’s This Is My Country, What’s Yours?”, which is cool because the only other book on CanLit I’ve ever read was published in 1972, and certainly a lot has happened since then.
Here for an article on Richler’s and a few other unusual Canadian atlases, and their lessons on Canadian identity. 50,000 copies of Andrea Levy’s brilliant Small Island have been distributed through parts of Britain “to encourage reading, and discussion”. (Wonderful connections between Levy’s novel and Kate Atkinson’s work have just dawned on me). Here for Literary Pop Idolatry. Type Books in the press (and the business press to boot).
My new teapot is full of peppermint love, and I shall get down to an afternoon of glorious work.
December 29, 2006
New Arrivals
The Voyage Out and Jacob’s Room by Virginia Woolf from Mum and Dad England
Reading Like a Writer by Francine Prose from my Mom Stateside (or thereabouts)
Decca: the Letters of Jessica Mitford from Bronners
Two volumes of Buddha by Osamu Tezuka, which actually came into my husband’s life but we share lives
The Hunters by Claire Messud which I found for a dollar in a bookshop
Similarly, I got a hard cover copy of Love Story by Erich Segal for a dollar too. I bought it to replace the school library book I stole in grade seven, and subsequently read to pieces. I believe this novel might just be godawful, but I have always loved it. And sometimes (often?) love does mean having to say you’re sorry– for having terrible terrible taste.
December 22, 2006
Special Topics etc.
I will be brief about Special Topics in Calamity Physics as so many reviews have said so much already (I’d link to more reviews, but my internet is dial-upily slow today, who knows why). As always, I would dismiss the opinion of all those who couldn’t get through it because this book’s ending was my favourite thing about it. I also would not accuse the novel of pretentiousness, but rather it is meant to be a critique of pretentiousness– not an entirely successful one, however. Similarly, the novels gestures toward an extreme bookishness, which a reader can’t quite buy as many of the books discussed within this one aren’t even actual books. Comparisons to Donna Tartt are made easily, but Pessl’s characters are not as interesting (in fact, Blue van Meer’s teenage peers are incredibly boring). Comparing anyone to Nabokov is a bit unfair. In typical American styly, the book is big as a brick and I’m not sure it has to be (though I’m hardly one to talk– my attempt at brevity is already failing). The inevitable however. The first third of this book is hardly a slog, but it’s annoying in parts. I think that fake bookishness might be worse than pretentious bookishness. The second third of the book is better, but far too focussed on the secret life of teenagers, which of course is boring. The third part of the book, however, is golden. It’s what I imagine that DaVinci book might be like for people who liked it. Murder mystery/thriller/race to the end/gutting twist etc. Marisha Pessl is trying to do far too much with her debut novel, but the upside of that is that I think most people could find something to like in this book.
Now rereading Jane Eyre, which I read last eleven years ago when I was in grade eleven English. “I hate English!” is written on the title page in my handwriting, but I do remember liking this book and I’m loving it now. Continuing with uTOpia, which actually has many more good essays than bad ones, and I’m learning a lot. I particularly like the way essays unconsciously counter and disagree with one another, which fits the complexity of the issues this book is addressing. Oh, and Curtis bought me a subscription to Vanity Fair, which I’ve been dreaming of for my whole life. He and Erin came over for dinner last night, and my risotto debut was a giant success. We all drank too much wine, and had inordinate amounts of good conversation.
