November 10, 2010
Rare Giller Treat
Look what Harriet found this morning! I look forward to reading it. If judges think it’s even better than Light Lifting, we’re really in for something brilliant.
October 19, 2010
Two books I bought today
Harriet is receiving The Book About Moomin, Mymble and Little My for Christmas this year, after a recommendation from Charlotte. The book is published in English by the Drawn & Quarterly children’s imprint Enfant, and is really, truly a work of art. It is our introduction to Moominism, and if this book is any indication, I think I’m in love. The drawings are vivid, whimsical, and easy to get lost in, and the characters crawl through the story through a different hole in every page. I am also obsessed with the typography, and the translation from Swedish which still seems to rhyme absolutely perfectly. I look forward to reading this one to pieces.
Also, tonight I made the world’s shortest appearance 
at Amy Lavender Harris‘ book launch in order to congratulate her and pick up a long-awaited copy of Imagining Toronto. An expansive and almost exhaustive study of how Toronto has been rendered in its literature, how this city we know so well has been imagined by its writers. Harris writes, “Toronto is a city of stories that accumulate in fragments between the aggressive thrust of its downtown towers and the primordial dream of the city’s ravines. In these fragments are found narratives of unfinished journeys and incomplete arrivals, chronicles of all the violence, poverty, ambition and hope that give shape to this city and the lives laid down in it.”
September 26, 2010
Books, I've had a few. Regrets? Not lately.
I went out by myself on Saturday m0rning to check out The Victoria College Book Sale (whose half-price Monday is tomorrow, for anyone who’s interested). The plan, seeing as I have far more unread books that I have money, was to purchase a book or two, which was quite a different plan than in years past when I’ve purchased a book or twenty. Plan was also different than in the past, because I was attending on a full-price Saturday, having noticed in the past year or two that the Monday books are usually the same. And am I ever glad that I made the switch, because the books I came home with are absolutely wonderful, albeit slightly more numerous than two. (“But think of all the books I didn’t buy,” I pleaded as I walked in the door, so bookisly laden.)
Not one of the books I bought is aspirational and due just to collect dust on the shelf, or a book I’m unlikely to enjoy a great deal. I put much thought into my purchases, and just as much into the books I didn’t buy, and I’m happy with what I settled upon. I am extremely excited to dig into each of these.
I got Strong Poison by Dorothy L. Sayers, because it’s the Peter Wimsey novel that introduces Harriet Vane, and I’ve been led to expect fine things from it. I got True Lies by Mariko Tamaki, because she intrigues me and because it was radically mis-catalogued, and so it was fate that I found it at all. Next is Loitering with Intent by Muriel Spark, because reading The Comforters is only the beginning of my Muriel Spark career. Our Spoons Came From Woolworths by Barbara Comyns, which I know nothing about, except that a few other bloggers have read it, I like the title, and I’m fond of that Virago apple. Sloane Crosley I Was Told There Would Be Cake, because I can’t get enough of essays, it comes well-recommended (and there’s cake). Carol Shields’ play Departures and Arrivals, because unread Carol Shields is a precious, precious thing. Bronwen Wallace’s collection People You’d Trust Your Life To, just because it felt like the right book to buy. Michael Winter’s This All Happened because it is shocking that I haven’t read it yet. And finally, Jessica Grant’s collection Making Light of Tragedy, because she wrote Come Thou Tortoise and I’ve heard this book is even better.
Can you believe that discretion was actually exercised? Unbelievable, I know. Less so was exercised today at the Word on the Street Festival, where I purchased a fantastic back issue of The New Quarterly (the quite rare Burning Rock Collective Issue 91), and the Giller-longlisted Lemon by Cordelia Strube. Harriet also got to peek through the Polka Dot Door, and meet Olivia the Pig, and there were also a lot of dogs and balloons, which are two of her favourite things.
In other remarkable this weekend news, someone who was neither Stuart nor me put Harriet to bed last night, because I’d blown the dust off my high heels for our friends Kim and Jon’s wedding. We had the most wonderful time, not least because it was within walking distance (even in said high heels). The ceremony was lovely, the bride was stunning, groom was adoring, the venue was incredible (overlooking Philosopher’s Walk, with a view of the city skyline), great company, delicious dinner, too much wine, and then we got to dance, and had so much fun looking ridiculous. We walked home after midnight happy and holding hands, and I could hardly detect an autumn chill while wearing Stuart’s too-big-for-me jacket.
August 9, 2010
More new books
Today I used up my gift-card from Ten Editions that Stuart had bought me for my birthday. I initially went in to find The Comforters, which we’re reading next month for The Vicious Circle, but they didn’t have that one. Instead, I got The Viking Portable Library Charles Lamb, because Anne Fadiman inspired me to, and My Friend Says It’s Bulletproof by Penelope Mortimer, who I know nothing about, but it’s by Virago, and Carol Shields and Blanche Howard like another of her books (according to A Memoir of Friendship, which I’m currently [joyfully] rereading). Also, she had a copy of Anne Fadiman’s Ex Libris, except that she was currently reading it and couldn’t find it (“it’s not the time of day to find its place in the pile,” is what she said) but she promised to put it aside and it will be there when I go back for it. Amazing! (And then I found The Comforters at another shop along the road).
July 24, 2010
The extended lives of books
As I’ve previously complained, the worst part of being a fan of Barbara Pym is that her books are hard to come by. Most new bookstores don’t stock a big selection, and the used bookstores don’t either because Barbara Pym is not disposable and people who own her books usually have to die (or be put into a home) in order to be parted with them. Such a parting precisely the way I managed to add six of her novels my library this morning.
No, I didn’t have to murder any little old ladies, and the one in question is still alive, but she’s reached her “put into a home” years. The contents of her home for sale around the corner from my house, and her books! In alphabetical order! All the novelists that I like best (and then some). I picked up two more Elizabeth Bowen books too, Silent Spring (which I’ve read and loved), What Maisie Knew to reread and The Wings of the Dove for the very first time. And Night and Day by Virginia Woolf. All paperbacks, and therefore fifty cents each.
I’m currently reading The Yellow Lighted Bookshop and just finished the bit about the long, long lives of books, and how they’re recycled like almost no other object. I think that Mary Hackney would be pleased to know that her books (and the various scraps of paper she left within them) are going to another good home where they’re sure to be alphabetized.
I picked up The Complete Works of Shakespeare further down the street. It was sitting on the roof of a car. I know the etiquette for books in boxes on the sidewalk (though you do have to watch it– someone might be moving) but not for books sitting on the roofs of cars. So I made up my own rule, and it was “Yoink”. Which might be another case of bibliokleptomania.
Oh well.
July 20, 2010
People around in the daytime
Nobody works in San Francisco. I noticed this when we were there a few years ago, cafes packed for brunch on a Wednesday morning– “how do these people make a living?” I wondered (“and how can I get to do that too?”). It’s a different kind of culture here in Toronto, where on weekday mornings the sidewalks belong to old men in funny hats, crazy parkbench ladies, and disgruntled nannies pushing double strollers. Or maybe I just frequent the wrong neighbourhoods, but I do know of what I speak, having not only been a stay-at-home mom for the past year, but a graduate student back in not-too-distant history.
But lately, the days have felt a bit San Franciscan. I made two loaves of strawberry bread last week, because I had visitors due for a string of three afternoons, for a cup of tea or a glass of lemonade, depending on the temperature. Each of them people who are around in the daytime, each of them singularly wonderful (and bearing wonderful things).
On Friday my friend Ivor arrived, who I hadn’t seen properly in far too long, and what he brought with him was Ivor conversation. National newspapers pay him for it (and his twitter followers are legion) but I got the benefit of it directly from my couch, in all its fascinating hilariousness. He let Harriet paw at his iphone. Next up was a most excellent new friend called Kat (we met at the library!) and her fabulous baby boy Atlas, and she showed up with a freaking cheese tray. I think I’m in love with her. And today we had a visit from Julia, who is lovely and brilliant, and brought me At Large and At Small by Anne Fadiman (who I realize now I’ve heard of from a reference on Nathalie’s blog).
Anyway, the point of this being that I’m not sure strawberry bread even begins to account for the riches I’ve recently received. And maybe I can finally stop lusting after San Francisco.
July 11, 2010
Books I found in a box on Albany Avenue
I swear, the spines aren’t even cracked, and how their hues complement one another. I’m so happy to finally own a copy of The Girls, which I loved so much when I read it a few years ago, and then a book by Ali Smith who I love, but I haven’t read this one yet, and finally What We All Long For by Dionne Brand, which won the Toronto Book Award in 2006. Beautiful. And can you imagine if I’d dared to pass the box by? Five more minutes, and the whole thing would have been drenched with rain.
June 2, 2010
No kids
I was never brave enough to read this book before, particularly not in the past year during which I could have written this book myself 300 times over, but now that I’m pretty sure I could think of reasons to counter each of Corinne Maier’s 40 reasons not to have children, I feel ready to take it on. Certainly, Maier knows what she’s talking about, being a mother herself, and it will be interesting to reflect upon whether or not her reasons are valid. And why, even with there being at least 40 reasons not to have children, people keep having them anyway.
Don’t worry, this was a library book. But I did stop into Ten Editions to buy We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson, because The Vicious Circle is going to be reading it at some point. And then I also had to get Victoria Glendinning’s biography of Elizabeth Bowen, as I loved her The House in Paris when I read it last autumn (upon the recommendation of Susan Hill). I wasn’t planning on the second book, but there it was on display, and I just couldn’t help myself. Of course. And I actually saved money, when you consider all the books in the store I didn’t buy.
It was basically the same as a paycheque.
May 19, 2010
I receive White Ink in the post
It has been an absolutely bumper week for books in the post. Today delivered my copy of White Ink: Poems on Mothers and Motherhood from Demeter Press. I bought this book for selfish reasons, of course, but it didn’t hurt that my purchase will help to keep Demeter Press afloat. And may I please mention other fine Demeter books Mothering and Blogging: The Radical Act of the MommyBlog and Mother Knows Best: Talking Back to the Experts. As well as the gala event this Friday to raise funds for MIRCI and Demeter Press?
I imagine I’ll be dipping in and out of this beautiful book for some time. For Grace Paley, Sonnet L’Abbe, Rosemary Sullivan, Lorna Crozier, Gwendolyn MacEwen, Ray Hsu (with whom I used to work the Saturday midnight shift at the EJ Pratt Library, I’ll have you know), Leon Rooke, Laisha Rosnau, Anne Sexton, and Sylvia Plath, as well as many poets I have yet to discover.
There is also a Carol Potter. Do you think she is the Carol Potter,the most famous mother of all??
May 18, 2010
Figurative Devouring Only
Today we received in the post the latest from Rebecca Rosenblum. Her chapbook Road Trips has just been published by Frog Hollow Press, and is so incredibly gorgeous. The pages are a joy to caress, the endpapers are thick, fibrous and lovely, and I love the images inside which remind me of lino-cuts. And then there are her stories– I’ve read one before (though I imagine it’s changed since then) and the other will be new. How wonderful! This is one book the baby will not be permitted to eat. Figurative devouring only.
