June 14, 2007
Remember when the boys were all electric?
What a good lunch break I had today, dropping out of a brilliant game of catch to read in the grass until the boys were ready to go back in. Sunny with a breeze. Now reading So May Ways to Begin by Jon McGregor, which connects me to the England I’m missing furiously post-vacation*. The book is wonderful so far. I read McGregor’s first novel If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things a million years ago, and though I enjoyed it and McGregor himself was doing something remarkable, the book wasn’t perfect. Whereas the sense I’m getting so far is that in his second novel, he’s finding his feet. Which is so exciting, and it’s wonderful to think of his career still ahead of him and books books to read. It will be nice to follow along, just as it has been so far.
And I was very happy to see that Madeleine Thien’s Certainty was nominated for the Amazon/Books in Canada First Novel Award. Pleased that Heather O’Neill’s much-deserving Lullabies for Little Criminals is on the list as well, but I’m rooting for Certainty. O’Neill’s had plenty of fun already, and Certainty is the very best book I’ve read this year.
*Ah, missing furiously. I listen to BBC Radio1 at work, and every since Monday have heard the songs we listened to as we drove across the North of England with the top down, and never in my life have I felt such nostalgia for a last week.
June 6, 2007
Brief Pickle Road Report
That all I’ve eaten save supper during the last few days are scones with jam and clotted cream, and I’ve consumed enough tea since Friday to float a boat. That we’ve had enormous fun in Lancaster, Cleveleys, and to the Lake District (to Bowness-on-Windemere, where Stuart rowed me in a boat and quothed original poetry, and Hawkshead, where more scones were eaten and a man was noted on his tombstone as “an observer of rainfall”). I have started a tea towel collection. The road into Hawkshead was so narrow we thought death was imminent, and everyone behind me honked as I had to stop whenever another car passed by. That we walked home yesterday skipping stones and collecting interesting pebbles. That it never rains in the North of England. That I haven’t driven into a hedge, stone wall or another vehicle, but I’ve driven into the curb, twice. That I have watched EastEnders and Two Pints. That I closed my English bank account and got £14. That both of us are going to come home with those famous Northern English sunburns. Tomorrow we’re off to Skipton.
June 4, 2007
Pickle Report From the Road
Oh, welcome to the North of England. After a whole of night of all flying no sleep, we landed in Manchester and picked up our rental car which, due to a mix-up, turned out to be a brand new Saab 93 Convertible. We couldn’t believe it either. And then we drove three and a half hours up to North Yorkshire, pulling off once when my lack of sleep was making me see triple, this compounded by my baptism by fire driving on these Great British roads (roundabouts and driving on the wrong side are really just fine, but the narrowness and twistiness of these roads at high speed make driving rather terrifying). We finally arrived in Sinnington, where the marquee was already set up on the village green and we saw the bride and groom sorting out last minute arrangements. Dinner down the pub that night, and then we went to bed early at our splendid b&b. Next day was all wedding, and it was all gorgeous, perfect, hot sunny day, gorgeous bride and groom, we got to ride there in a vintage Bentley, the 11th century church was predictably lovely, all the guests were good fun, cupcakes, good company, first dance and then more dance, champagne, hilarity and porkpies. Yesterday we boarded our vintage bus for a trip o’er the moors and an incredible lunch at Byland Abbey (roast lamb shank, followed by sticky toffee pudding). And then back to Sinnington, and we were off with the top down, driving across the countryside on A roads, feeling quite Two for the Road (and me regretting I hadn’t packed a headscarf or movie star sunglasses). England is breathtakingly gorgeous and spreads far and wide. Soon the Yorkshire Dales turned into The Pennines, and then the clouds moved in and thunder rolled. I’ve rarely seen a more dramatic landscape, but then I come from Central Ontario where we don’t do drama much. The sun came out again, and we got on the motorway (the top was back up by this time, as we’d anticipated the rain in time). Eventually after 4 hours of driving, we arrived in Fleetwood Lancashire, and were reunited with our England Mum and Dad, who were quite happy to welcome home their prodigal son and his dotty wife.
What a surfeit of reading I’ve got on at the moment. Reading Town House by Tish Cohen, which is ultra-enjoyable and perfectly read in the little bites I can afford to take during this somewhat whirlwind vacae. But then I’ve also got the weekend papers (which seem to have become more tabloidy over the last two years, and not just in their shape), I’m venturing into Waterstones today, and I’ve also got my bag of tricks from Bronwyn. My bridesmaid’s gift was Cath Kidston bookbag stuffed with Persephone Books and others.
Further, I’ve got four more days of this breeze left, with trips to Lancaster and Cumbria planned.
And all of this conspires to make me the luckiest girl in the whole wide world.
May 24, 2007
Evening classes
Summer has arrived with a slap of heat which has drained me of all energy. Now reading The Children of Men, and really enjoying it. And today from the library I fetched The Duchess of Bloomsbury Street and Thieves, which I must read in the next week. The former book will be a good preparation for our upcoming vaca, I think, though we’ll not being visiting London. But indeed in one week’s time we’ll be en-route to the airport. I’m very excited, as we haven’t been abroad in two years, with all our immigration madness and that year in which neither of us earned a living. I’ve still not decided what I am bringing to read on the plane, however– maybe my collected Grace Paley to reread? And I am a little disappointed that I’ll miss out on some good reading time as we’re driving and not taking the train. Nonetheless, I am thrilled that I will be able to hold next weekend’s The Guardian in me own two hands, and that sometime in the week I will pop into a Waterstones and steal some 3 for 2s. Oh England England, get ready to welcome us home (literally and otherwise, respectively).
April 27, 2007
Persephone Books
A recent reference by Maud Newton and another by dovergreyreader scribbles was enough to pique my interest in Persephone Books. Persephone Books are “revived” twentieth century novels, usually by women writers, and often now-forgotten texts. With their look they appear to be as branded as Penguins (a good thing), and absolutely lovely. And it perfectly breaks my heart that I don’t live in England, and nor will we be in London when we go in June so that I can pop into the shop and just pick up one, two, or ten. But then again I’ll get there someday, and it’s nice to know that such a lovely thing exists.
