November 5, 2008

The only character who really gets to talk

(Via The Pop Triad) Lionel Shriver on quotation marks and why their absence is off-putting: “The appearance of authorial self-involvement in much modern literary fiction puts off what might otherwise comprise a larger audience. By stifling the action of speech, by burying characters’ verbal conflicts within a blurred, all-encompassing über-voice, the author does not seem to believe in action — and many readers are already frustrated with literary fiction’s paucity of plot. When dialogue makes no sound, the only character who really gets to talk is the writer.”

November 4, 2008

Novel About My Wife What Happened?

At least a few times a day, according to my webstats, somebody will land on this site because they want to know “Novel About My Wife””What Happened”. And these poor people must perpetually go away quite disappointed, because neither my book review nor interview with the author are especially illuminating in that respect. I mean, if you’re looking for some plot summary, then I’m your man, but I’ve a feeling these people are seeking something a bit more specific. Something more like, what in heaven’s name was all that chaos at the end?

Full disclosure: I’ve got NO idea. Author Emily Perkins knows, and I know this because I asked her. In the vaguest terms though. What a waste! I had in front of me the only person who could answer that all-consuming “What happened?” question, but I thought it would be rude to pry. I figured if she’d wanted me to know, she would have put it in the book, but I did want to know if she knew. If what happened to Ann Wells was ever nailed down as a fact.

Perkins said, “No, I do have it. And I had written versions where the gaps were more filled in, but in the end I just thought the thing about Tom is that he is trying to investigate or work out the truth of his wife, but the point of the book for me is that he’s left it too late. He had his chance to look her in the eye and be with her in a real way and he was so busy, caught up in himself, romanticizing her and being in love with the mystery and not wanting to know. I didn’t want to let him off the hook for that…”

And so we’re implicated too as readers, because the text is Tom’s creation. His blindness becomes our own, which is annoying for a reader who has been invested in Ann as much as possible, unlike Tom. Annoying that we’re invested in Tom’s point of view rather than Ann’s, but that’s interesting too. A pretty powerful narrative device.

I can be a generous reader. If a book or a story is good enough, I am willing to make concessions. The best lesson I ever learned as a reader was in my graduate creative writing workshop, when we were told to look at what we determine as flaws in our classmates’ stories,
and to try to understand what the writers might have been doing. Not even what they were trying to do, but just imagine everything is deliberate. Imagine this author actually knows what she’s doing, and as a reader that was such a revelation. It wasn’t as though the stories became perfect then, but new doors were opened for analysis and understanding. We learned that just because a story isn’t the way you’d like it to be doesn’t necessarily mean that story isn’t the way it is supposed to be.

Which means that when I first read Novel About My Wife, and when I read it again, though I was not wholly satisfied with so much unknowing, I thought the narrative gaps had some purpose. Of course I had suspicions of what might have happened to Ann, and with the rest of the story so full, I was content with my own speculations. (I have also learned to love short fiction, as I’ve mentioned before, which has well equipped me to be able to make much of pieces I am given.)

Not everybody else was so content though. I started thinking when I read this review, and the following line in particular: “Perkins’s attempt at ambiguity draws the reader in, but does not completely provide the insight needed to satisfy.” Which is entirely right, and I had really failed to consider whether satisfying the reader might be the point. I still don’t think it’s the entire point, but perhaps it’s more important than I considered. Alternatively, could readers be looking for satisfaction in all the wrong places?

Update: for a bit more insight on what happened to Ann, check out the fascinating comments on Rachel Powers’ blog.

October 31, 2008

Someone left The Good Book out in the rain

On Sunday during a walk in the rain, I came across The Good News Bible lying on a ledge. Perhaps a sign, but I didn’t notice it; I took a photo instead.

October 29, 2008

Links for Today

Sandra Martin’s full-length obituary of Constance Rooke was beautiful, and told the story of an extraordinary person who was an extraordinary reader. GG Nominee Rivka Galchen profiled in The Globe. I loved Lisa Moore’s review of Anne Enright’s Yesterday’s Weather. An interview with John Updike in The Guardian. Where are the woman with big ideas? Claire Cameron thinks they moved to Canada. And “Cut, Kill, Dig, Drill” –on Sarah Palin in the London Review of Books— is terrifying.

October 26, 2008

Recommended

At the Descant blog, I’ve written about the perilous nature of book recommendations.

October 13, 2008

My turn for Whats and Whys

Rebecca Rosenblum ponders why she reads the books she reads, the last ten books she has read specifically, concluding that reading is social, however solitary in practice. Her post inspiring Naya V. to consider some of her own bookish choosings. And inspiring me as well, though findings may not be so revelatory as I’ve written here about how I came to some of these already. Nevertheless.

• Forms of Devotion by Diane Schoemperlen (now reading), because Rebecca Rosenblum gave it to me for my birthday and now it is time.
• The Transit of Venus by Shirley Hazzard, because it was a paperback portable for vacation, and because it came recommended via the impeccable taste of Rona Maynard.
• The Boys in the Trees by Mary Swan, also because it was a paperback. Because it was longlisted and shortlisted for the Giller. Because it was Rona-recommended, and recommended by Maud Newton and Stephany Aulenback as well. (Oh, and now by me too. This is the best book I’ve read in ages).
• Between Friends: A Year in Letters by Oonagh Berry and Helen Levine. I picked this up at the Victoria College book sale not just because it was a collection of correspondence but because reading a newspaper feature when the book came out inspired me to embark upon a similar writing project with my friend Bronwyn.
• Good to a Fault by Marina Endicott, because I wanted to all the books on the Giller list by women (which was easy as there were only two).
• Flowers for Mrs. Harris by Paul Gallico. Also bought at the book sale, and I was originally attracted by the gorgeous (only slightly damaged) pink dust jacket, and then I remembered that I’d read writer Justine Picardie raving about this novel on her blog.
• What It Feels Like for a Girl by Jennica Harper. Jennica is my favourite poet, and her first book The Octopus kept me up all hours the first time I read it, and so naturally I would read her new book the second I could get my mitts upon it.
• Babylon Rolling by Amanda Boyden. I don’t remember why I read this book at all, perhaps for no real reason, which is probably the reason I was so surprised to love it.
• When Will There by Good News? by Kate Atkinson. Um, because Kate Atkinson wrote it. And everything she touches is gold– except for Emotionally Weird, but I’ve forgiven/forgotten already. Everything else though.
• The Diving Bell and Butterfly by Jean-Dominique Bauby. My spectacular Amy Winehouse costume won me this book as a prize at an Oscar Party back in the winter, but I hadn’t got around to reading it. My husband had, however, and was obsessed with it, and insisted that I read it too, and it was as wonderful as he promised. And now we can finally rent the movie.

September 16, 2008

Bibliophibians

Click on the comic for a clearer image. Comes from Wondermark by David Malki. Sent to me via Leah B (so thank you!).

September 9, 2008

Once in the world

“I think,” writes Rebecca Rosenblum, of the moment she first saw her book, “once in a while, something can be exactly as good as you dreamt it would be.”

Rebecca’s story collection Once is now out in the world, and we spotted it yesterday in a stack at the Eden Mills Writers’ Festival. I bought a copy immediately, and soon after had the great pleasure of listening to Rebecca read from the first story “ContEd”. Pleasure even in spite of the rain, because Rebecca read so beautifully. She even made the sun came out, and so for the rest of day we were dry.

Afterwards, we saw every author I was hoping to see as noted in the post below. And also Dennis Lee, who didn’t seem to remember me from the time he came to my school when I was five.

• Click here to buy Rebecca’s book. She is not the kind of writer I promote because she’s my friend, but rather because she’s the kind of writer so talented I can’t quite believe that she’s my friend. Once should stocked in the shops by some time next week.
• Attend Rebecca’s launch if you can. Monday September 15, 2008 at 7:00. The Gladstone Hotel, Toronto.

September 5, 2008

Coach House Open House

I love Coach House. They keep publishing books I really want to buy and then love reading, which I think is a mark of achievement for an independent press. Tonight we attended the Coach House Open House tonight over on bpNichol Lane, and we had more fun than you think we would have standing around a parking lot. And not just because there were food and bevvies, or because there was a tour and a chance to see the printing press in action. And not just because we got to see Crissy Calhoun, Ivor Tossell and Julie Wilson either. And not even because we got take advantage of the book sale. (I bought The Girls Who Saw Everything.) But I would probably say that the fun was most definitely a culmination of all these things.

September 3, 2008

Delightful Things

This past weekend, because it was long, because it was summery weather, and because my sister-in-law was staying with us, we indulged in delightful things. Chocolate raspberry tarts at Dessert Trends, a sunny afternoon at Riverdale Farm, bbq indulgences (esp. corn on the cob and mmm that grilled peach blue cheese salad was good), a trip out of town to the Twenty Valley where we loaded up on gorgeous produce from a roadside stand, and then to Ward’s Island yesterday, to wade in the warm (!) and gorgeous Lake Ontario and dinner at The Rectory Cafe. All in all a perfect way to kiss goodbye the summer, or perhaps more to give summer a whole lot of temptation to stay. Just a little bit longer?

We’d been discussing Rosie Little earlier this week, my sister-in-law and I, having both fallen in love with Danielle Wood’s tales something fierce. And we were talking about the restaurant in Vancouver where Rosie has tea at the end of the book– The Junction Tea Room? (Which I cannot verify, as my downstairs neighbour has borrowed my copy for a holiday to Japan). And how we wished the magical tea room was real, but a fruitless Google search suggested it wasn’t. Alas. And then come Sunday afternoon in Jordan Ontario, we find the only parking space in down right out from of the Twenty Valley Tea House.

We had a brilliant afternoon tea there, sun pouring in through the windows. As at The Junction Tea Room, we got to select our own cups and saucers, mismatched and gorgeous. A hat racked mounted with chapeaus and feathers was there for our pleasure, should we choose to partake. Oh, the tea was delicious, the cakes and triangle sandwiches. Ok, there was no cream (no cream?!) but the scones were so moist and flavourful, none was really required. We ate in tiny bites, morsels, in that afternoon tea way that always has us come out stuffed. Afterwards, a browse in the gift shop, with tea goods for our pleasure. All in all, a superlative teaish experience. Even worthy of fiction…