October 20, 2009
Sean Penn
In the last few weeks, I’ve found “Sean Penn” used twice as a metaphor for manic behaviour: in Douglas Coupland’s new novel Generation A and Lorrie Moore’s story “What You Want to do Fine”. This is remarkable because a) didn’t Sean Penn stop self-destructing in about 1989? funny that this remains a touchstone, and b) if I’ve found two, there must be more. I will be on the lookout from here on in. Perhaps he really could end up with his picture in the dictionary under “crazy”.
October 15, 2009
A Tyrannical Poltergeist
“There is a sense in which all novels are ghost stories: fictional characters are translucent phantoms, which readers believe in (or don’t); readers lurk in the presence of characters, spying on their most intimate moments, eavesdropping on their innermost thoughts. And however thoroughly the novelist establishes her characters’ motivations, however robustly she forges her chains of cause and effect everything that happens ultimately does so at the whim of the writer. Certain things have to happen for the narrative to progress… Every novel is haunted by a tyrannical poltergeist, in the form of its plot.” from “Poltergeist: The Little Stranger” by Thomas Jones, London Review of Books 9 July 2009
October 14, 2009
She loves the library
No one takes things personally like a new mom, I’ve found. Any advice I’m given, I take as a slight: “Oh, she sounds hungry!” I translate as, “You don’t have a clue what your baby needs.” “Perhaps you’d sleep better if she was out of your room” means, “You suck and you’re depriving your baby of the opportunity to develop positive sleep habits.” It never ends. Everybody thinks they have the solutions, and I know I have no solutions, so I’m sensitive, you know?
Yesterday, however, my reaction was a bit over the top. I was at the library (picking up my reserved copy of The Baby Whisperer Solves All Your Problems. Which is a titular lie– apparently I still have to solve them, and she just tells me how to via methods I am far too lazy to implement. My husband says we have no problems anyway and we’re doing just fine. [We do practice the EASY method already, by mistake, and it’s excellent]. Anyway, today I believe him and I’m returning the book to the library because it’s making me crazy) and the baby was squawking in her stroller.
“Oh,” said a fellow patron, not supposing who she was speaking to (naturally, as I am no one), “I guess she doesn’t like the library.”
And I flared up like a rash. “Of course, she likes the library. She loves the library. It’s her favourite place to come. We come all the time. She loves books, and text, and print media of all kinds.” Poor fellow patron looked frightened. I continued, “She’s just sick, bit of a cold. And she’s tired. And the sun’s been shining in her eyes. It’s close to her nap. We’ve been running errands and she’s sick of her stroller, plus, I’ve been depriving her of the opportunity to develop positive sleep habits. But she loves the library. Loves it, she does.”
Patron had disappeared by the time I was finished this tirade. Perhaps she’d slipped out the door while I was in the midst of my passion, and had sought hiding in a locked bathroom cubicle, I don’t know. But I am pretty sure she was a candidate for kind stranger most sorry she’d come across me yesterday.
And maybe Harriet just hates Tracy Hogg.
October 6, 2009
Little Women Report #2
Perhaps I spoke too soon awhile back, because the second half of Little Woman was really wonderful. Though the characters were good, they were good in ways that were true to themselves and the ways in which they strayed beforehand weren’t necessarily obvious and were interesting to read. The chapter where Meg makes jelly that doesn’t set on the day her husband brings home a dinner guest without warning was an incredibly realistic depiction of domestic dynamics. Jo’s experiences as a writer were fascinating and so true. Amy became a wonderful mass of contradictions, and the most interesting sister by the end. I really enjoyed this part of the book and am glad I followed through.
But the second half was so different from the first that I could scarcely believe that the two were published a year apart. I’d figured Alcott must have grown significantly as a writer in the interim. Or perhaps she realized her characters had wider appeal than she’d initially planned?
It’s the tone of the second half that is so very different, as though it’s growing up along with the characters. And that’s something I’ve never found in a book before, an omniscient narrator so in tune with her characters’ perspectives. In the first half of Little Women, there is little going on beneath the surface. Of course, you get the sense that Marmee is wiser than she lets on, but it’s so obvious, and the other characters know it too. But it was distinctly a children’s book, whereas the second half wasn’t.
And maybe that’s what young readers like so much about Little Women, that they begin with something quite geared towards their level but the book takes off on its own speed, and by the end the narrative is quite above them. So that it would be a book one would revisit time and again, to find out what has changed since the last time.
Note: I was so glad that Jo didn’t marry Laurie. The Professor is so lovely, however much German and old. Obviously, Jo hadn’t watched enough Sex and the City to be brainwashed into thinking enacting adolescent drama is an aspiration more worthy than mere happiness.
September 30, 2009
Reporting from the reading road
So I’m halfway through Little Women, just beginning Part Two and Meg’s wedding. And what I do remember now from the first time I read this is that I was unbelievably confused about who Teddy and Laurie were, and only now do I realize that they were both Theodore Laurence. (And somehow I was also confusing him with Teddy Kent from Emily of New Moon, but that’s neither here nor is it there). In general, I’m not finding the book too rip-roaring, and am looking hungrily to my to-be-read stack and counting the number of pages left (250). But the experience is not without its joys: though the characters are types, they’re also more than a bit surprising, and Jo is as entrancing as Jo’s ever were. (Beth, however, I probably will not mourn so much when it’s time.) Regarding the types: remember Sarah Liss on Little Women as the original Sex and the City? I also absolutely love the self-consciously omniscient narrator.
It strikes me, however, that this is a children’s book in a way that anything penned by L.M. Montgomery is not. I’m revisiting this for the first time since girlhood, and I’m not finding anything new between the lines, unlike when I last reread Anne of Green Gables and discovered the heart of the story is actually Marilla. Also, Little Women is a bit too moralistic, which I realize is the whole point, but it’s sort of retchful, no? I know the girls don’t always manage to be good, but they’re always trying to, and Marmee is so frightfully good (because she’s suppressed her terrible temper) and I just feel as though the March family loves one another a little too much in order to compensate for… something.
So, is this sacrilege? What am I missing? Is this a book one has to fall in love with in childhood? Any illumination would be quite welcome.
UPDATE: Part Two has actually proved to be much more interesting. “Literary Lessons” (Jo’s adventures in publishing) laid out very clearly the confusing nature of writing feedback. And “Domestic Experiences” (where Meg and Brooke’s household descends into chaos when jelly fails to set is funny, poignant, and real). And even Amy’s failed posh fete. I am enjoying it more.
August 27, 2009
The Mem Keeps Coming
Sometimes one thing leads to another, or else it just leads to the same thing over and over again. The latter in this case, which is the case of children’s author Mem Fox, beginning with her book finding its way into my house quite indirectly. From reader comments, I discover that everybody loves Mem Fox, and get some further Mem recommendations. The next week at the Library Story Time (which was incredible, incidently, are we ever lucky to have the Toronto Public Library system available to us!), the librarian pulls out Fox’s latest Hello Baby, as well as Ten Little Fingers and Ten Little Toes. (They are so good!) And then today I walked into a bookshop near my house and found a copy of Mem Fox’s Reading Magic: Why Reading Aloud to Our Children Will Change Their Lives Forever. Naturally, I bought it. Tomorrow I expect I’ll run into Mem Fox in the grocery store, never mind that she lives in Australia…
August 10, 2009
Not my bag
I hate jazz. I’ve never liked it, there was a time when I pretended I did and tried to learn to like it behind the scenes, but I never managed. I gave up pretences and decided to just hate it hands down the day a jazz-loving former co-worker walked into the staff lounge where someone else had put a bit of The Great Satan on the stereo, and co-worker waggled his head in a be-bop style, looked confused and said, “Hey, I thought this was my bag.” Which summed it all up for me, and that was the end. My beloved Tabatha Southey illustrates her jazz-hating experiences in this week’s column.
