November 26, 2011
A pile of books
Today we went to a book and toy sale at Huron Playschool, where Harriet will attend next year when she is three (and “when I am a boy,” she has noted, intriguingly). The sale was to support a trust fund for the son of Jenna Morrison, who was killed in a cycling accident two weeks ago, and whose death has profoundly affected our community, even those of us who didn’t know her.
We got a pile of books, happy to be able to do something to help. We brought them home and began to read through the stack, which wouldn’t have made for a blog post normally, except that every single book that we read was so incredibly good. We got Silly Lilly by Agnes Rosenstiehl , Owl Babies by Martin Waddell and Patrick Benson, Paddington Takes a Bath by Michael Bond, A Difficult Day by Eugenie Fernandes, Beneath the Bridge by Hazel Hutchins and Ruth Ohi, and The Alphabet Room by Sarah Pinto.
November 3, 2011
What I found: Childcraft- The How & Why Library
Blog fodder is something I’ve been thinking about as I finish up writing my lectures for SCS 2114, and I’ve been thinking about how often I stumble upon mine by the side of the road. On Tuesday, it was a stack of encyclopedias from the Childcraft- The How & Why Library, an edition published in 1987. There’s a volume of fairy tales and nursery rhymes, another of contemporary stories (Amelia Bedelia, Where the Wild Things Are, etc.), one of art projects, another about dates, festivals and celebrations, one about How Things Work, and Numbers and Math. We’ll have to edit Space and the Universe so Harriet understands that there is no such thing as Pluto, but so much of the content here will never go out of date, the books are in perfect condition (except for the page that Harriet ripped), are still attractive-looking, and (best of all) they don’t smell like a basement. (We might ignore the parenting guide in Volume 15 though, with its topical chapters of latchkey kids and working mothers.)
I’ve been longing for an encyclopedia in the same way I wish I knew how to use my sewing machine. I love its containment of the universe, the order of its numbered spines, its place of honour on the shelf, and that if anyone in our household ever wants to know what a cloud is and the internet’s down, it’s no problem. I love that you can open any volume to a random place, and discover something completely fascinating.
The downside to all this, however, I discovered after lugging the whole stack home (while pushing a stroller whose basket can no longer accommodate books after too many gluttonous trips to the library, though that I carried a stack of encyclopedias home really might be the most remarkable part of this story): two volumes are missing! Volume 3 Stories and Poems, and Volume 7 Story of the Sea might just have to tracked down and purchased online for the sake of completion.
September 24, 2011
Vic Book Sale 2011
There are not words for how amazing was my haul from this year’s Victoria College Book Sale. Though I did not do as I intended, which was to buy only books from a list of titles I was looking for. From the list, I found one: Barbara Gowdy’s We So Seldom Look on Love, because I’ve never met anyone smart who didn’t revere it. The rest I couldn’t help but pick up alongside it, and I’m so pleased with my selections– I didn’t make the mistake of buying aspirationally, or picking more battered paperbacks condemned to sit unread on my shelf a half-decade.
The only problem is that I am still determined to get through that unread shelf that I’ve been plowing through for the past six months– they’re in alpha-order by author, and I’ve read up to K so far. And in order for these books to continue to be read, I’ve decided not to read a single one of these delicious new selections until the shelf is empty. Which is a bit torturous, actually, but also very good incentive.
Books got: Family Happiness by Laurie Colwin (which I’ve read already, but has been missing from my library), A Long Way from Verona by Jane Gardam, The Best of Friends by Joanna Trollope, Stupid Boys are Good to Relax With by Susan Swan (I read this when I was in university, and hoping the title might justify my lifestyle at the time), Fables of Brunswick Avenue by Katherine Govier (we don’t live on Brunswick, but we do live about 30 metres from it), Offshore by Penelope Fitzgerald who I am determined to learn to appreciate, The Temporary by Rachel Cusk who is Rachel Cusk after all and I love everything she touches, You Never Know by Isabel Huggan who I’ve never read. I actually wanted The Elizabeth Stories but didn’t find them– have been interested since Elizabeth Hay’s recommendation on Canadian Bookshelf, I got The Rosedale Hoax by Rachel Wyatt which was pubbed by Anansi in 1977 and which I learned about from Amy Lavender Harris’s book Imagining Toronto, Elspeth Cameron’s memoir No Previous Experience, Lynn Coady’s Strange Heaven, Saving Rome by Megan K. Williams which my book club is reading next month, Ali Smith’s collection The First Person, Caroline Adderson’s novel Sitting Practice, and Wendy Wasserstein’s The Elements of Style.
And in about 40-some books’ time, I’ll be permitted to read them!
September 18, 2011
Eden Mills 2011
Last year, our Eden Mills Writers Festival experience was diminished by the efforts we spent on trying to get Harriet to fall asleep to no avail. Today we accepted that there would be no sleep (highly controversial), and had a marvelous time. The weather was glorious. We also particularly like Eden Mills because it functions in accordance with our family philosophy of not leaving the house early in the morning, and so there were pancakes, and pajama lazing. Then we hit the road, and the traffic was easy. The leaves were not as autumnal as in year’s past, but I was also wearing capris and sandals, and that was nice. We rolled in Eden Mills around 12:30, and so the day of literary festivalling began.
It was my fourth Eden Mills, by the way, and Stuart’s and Harriet’s third. The first readings I wanted 
to see were the poets, but they were indoors in the Chapel, so Harriet and Stuart stayed outdoors with Harriet’s outdoor voice. And I heard Priscilla Uppall and Lorna Crozier, who were so, so wonderful. In exchange for missing the reading, H&S split a cupcake, so everyone was happy. Then we went to the children’s readings, where we heard Andrea Wayne von Königslöw, and Kari-Lynn Winters. I skipped out partway through Winters, however, so that I could hear my friend Julia read at the Fringe Stage, and she had her audience utterly engaged. It was a pleasure to see her there.
After that, I met back up with my family, and we went to hear Claire Tacon and Alison Pick. Then to the Organic Ice Cream sellers, who delighted everyone involved. We stopped on Publisher’s Way to do a bit of shopping, and to meet with our Biblioasis and TNQ friends. (It was a friend-filled day. Today Eden Mills was populated by some of our favourite people.) Must admit, was a little disappointed to see other indie presses missing, in particular Brick Books because I’d been looking forward to buying Stephanie Bolster’s new book. Alas, my heart was delighted by the new addition of Demeter Press, however, and the chance to meet the fine people there (whose work I’ve been a champion of in the past). We ended up buying Claire Tacon’s In the Field, Amanda Jernigan’s Groundwork, Rocking the Cradle by Andrea O’Reilly, and Andrea Wayne von Königslöw’s How Do You Read to a Rabbit?
We went to see the magician next, who was awesome (though Harriet went into a frenzy when he started making balloon animals, 
screaming, “I want monkey right now!” and we had to talk her down, because there weren’t enough to go around). And I wanted to stay for the last session to hear Johanna Skibsrud read from her new book, but Harriet was fading and we’re smart enough now to no longer push our luck. She’d been so good all day, and so Eden Mills was over while the going was still good. (I did get to sit across the aisle from Skibsrud at the poetry readings though, which was kind of cool).
Last night I’d googled “Places to Eat Near Eden Mills”, and discovered a small town called Rockwood about ten minutes away. We drove there, hoping something would be open, and stumbled upon The Heaven on 7 Bistro and Pub, which was so delicious, the perfect end to a perfect day. Harriet was on her way out and spent most of the meal under the table, but we delighted in our dinners, and Harriet came up to partake in cheesecake. Then home again, home again, and Harriet agreed not to tantrum as long as we listened to Elizabeth Mitchell’s “Freight Train” on repeat, so there was a lot of that. Fortunately, traffic was kind to us again. Then home.
September 1, 2011
Glass Worlds
The ROM gift shop is one of my favourite local bookstores, and I covet several volumes from their collection. And it was to my great joy that last weekend I acquired a prized one, Glass Worlds: Paperweights from the ROM’s Collection by Brian Musselwhite (who has the best name ever). The book is a catalogue from the ROM’s 2007 paperweight exhibition, much of which is still on show, actually, tucked away in the northeast corner of the building on the 3rd floor– I suspect I am its most frequent visitor. I find the paperweights absolutely beautiful, and I’m fascinated by the juxtaposition of the dullness of their utility with their absolute unnecessary-ness at the same time. As well as their extravagance.
Musselwhite notes that their popularity grew with growth of literacy, and the popularity of letter-writing. Before most homes were outfitted with electricity, desks would be placed near windows for the best light, but with windows come breezes, hence the paperweight. Though Musselwhite points out that many other objects could have served its purpose: “Most likely, as the Victorians spent so much time at their desks, they wanted to look at something beautiful.”
August 27, 2011
Toronto Saturday (and books)
We’re kind of allergic to crowds, so we tend to go to where they don’t go. But perhaps another way to honour Jack Layton is to spend a good Toronto Saturday, and that’s what we did. We hauled ourselves out of bed (which was difficult. We’d spent last night watching The Long Good Friday, which is the best movie we’ve seen in ages, and it was hard to fall asleep after that) and walked through Little Italy down to Queen Street West, and met our friends in Trinity Bellwoods Park for some caffeine and Clafouti croissants. And then we crossed the street to Type Books to attend the 
launch of This New Baby, a book by Teddy Jam with new illustrations by textile designer Virginia Johnson. Which meant that Virginia Johnson read us stories, and we got to eat yummy cheese.
We bought a copy of the book for ourselves, a few for friends, and somehow a copy of Lynn Coady’s The Antagonist fell into my purchases. Then we walked home via Kensington Market where we had a good lunch. Also via a yardsale just up the street–the best thing about my neighbourhood is that it’s full of writers and university professors, so the book selection at the yardsales is always top-notch (if not a bit weird/specialized. A lot of Holocaust Studies, Lesbian Short Fiction Anthologies, and Irritation Bowel Syndrome books at this one). I got Toronto Noir, All the Anxious Girls on Earth, and Acquainted With the Night.
August 16, 2011
Baby Lit: Little Miss Austen
Here’s a tip for all you booksellers out there: stock the Baby Lit series, and the books will be snapped up by those of us with more money than brains. (And this is saying something. I don’t actually have that much money.) I don’t even like Pride & Prejudice, but I had to have this gorgeous board book, which is actually more worthwhile than its genius gimmick might suggest. It’s a counting book, P&P from 1-10– 1 English Village (with a green!), 2 handsome gentlemen, 3 houses, etc., and each item cumulates to tell Austen’s story (kind of). The illustrations are lovely, stylishly designed with floral detailing and demask backgrounds– you can see a couple of pages here.
From the publisher’s pages, the series (which, so far, also includes Romeo and Juliet, but I don’t think they die at the end) is “a fashionable way to introduce your toddler to the world of classic literature”. And heaven forbid you introduce your toddler to classic literature in an unfashionable way, or forget to do it until they’ve turned four and it’s already too late.
Qualms aside, the book is cute, and I’m a middle-class white person who lives in the city and buys artisanal cheese. Books like this were made for people like me. What else are you going to do?
July 4, 2011
The books keep coming.
In theory, I am making excellent progress at moving through my books-to-be-read shelf. I’m just about finished the Ds, having completing Joan Didion’s Salvatore this afternoon (and it’s so good. I don’t suppose anyone who ever invaded Iraq ever read it). But the problem is that the books keep coming faster than I can read them. And I’m not even talking about the new books I buy (which, according to my unstraightforward filing system, reside on another shelf altogether). It’s the books that keep finding their way into my life, and because they can be had for a quarter, or a loonie, or because they’re even free, I can’t help but bring them home with me.
Like tonight, when we walked past BMV and I found these two gems in the bargain bin. (I would also go on to find five bummis wraps outside someone’s house, which is very good, because the velcro is all shot in ours.) The one on the bottom is The Penguin Classic Baby Name Book. I am not pregnant, as ever, but the book is irresistible– conventional baby name book structure, except it lists which characters in literature have had these names, which include Bradamante and Britomart. The entry for Harriet begins, “Used by authors almost exclusively for secondary characters in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries…” Will make for some fascinating thumbing, I think. And if I ever have another daughter, I can name her Cunegonde.
The other book is Can Any Mother Help Me? about a group of English women who set up a writing co-op in the 1930s through which to take stock of their domestic lives. I got it for a dollar, and it’s a gorgeous hardback, pristine, with the loveliest endpapers, and I think I’m really going to enjoy it. As much as I’m going to enjoy Barbara Gowdy’s Fallen Angels, which I found on a curb last week, Lorna Jackson’s A Game to Play on the Tracks, which I bought as a library discard for a quarter, The Eatons by Rod McQueen, which was also found curbside, and Olive Kittridge, by Elizabeth Stout, which I bought at a yard sale for a quarter.
June 23, 2011
Penguins in the Post
Oh, there are words to describe yesterday, but they’re not very polite ones. They’re the words I was thinking as I hauled my hysterically tantrumming toddler home from a drop-in we visited in the morning, one that was so nice that apparently Harriet never wanted to go home. She was able to contort her body to become completely rigid (this kid would rock at planking) or to become a wet noodle, therefore rendering stroller get-her-inning completely impossible. She wanted me to carry her, and it was raining, and I couldn’t push a stroller, hold Harriet and an umbrella, so we got soaked. And then I could no longer carry Harriet at all, and that was all she wrote. It was horrid. And we won’t even get started on the whole “leaving the farmer’s market” meltdown in the afternoon, which was even worse, totally embarrassing and annoying. By the time Stuart came home from work, I was totally broken, and once again, considering putting Harriet up for adoption. “But tomorrow will be better,” I told myself, believing this to be somewhat naive, but it is June, mind you, and life is good in June, and indeed, better today has definitely been.
And it still would have been better had I not received this incredible surprise from my pal at Penguin Canada. A Penguin tote bag (which would be enough in itself) packed with 24 Mini Moderns. But it would not be possible to receive a package like this, and for a day not to be made. And yes, partly because we’re in our third week of a mail strike and I’ve been missing surprises at my door, and partly because these books are so brilliantly Penguinesque in their design and because I can’t wait to find a place where I can line them all up in a row, and because there are authors I love here, and others still yet to be discovered. But mostly because now I am totally assured that there is such brilliant possibility in never knowing what a new day might deliver.
May 30, 2011
Today I went to the bookstore
Today I went to the bookstore and purchased these fine volumes: Margaret Drabble’s A Day in the Life of a Smiling Woman, Carolyn Black’s The Odious Child, and Granta 115. The occasion? Well, after finishing up his contract on Friday, Stuart was offered a new job this afternoon, and starts on Monday. We are thrilled. Further celebrations were had via ice cream cones and sushi take-out. What a lovely, lovely day.
