May 12, 2009
Magazine as Muse
My friend Rebecca Rosenblum (you know her, with a book just nominated for the Danuta Gleed Award, and she’s off to Japan this very day) has a wonderful piece in the current issue of The New Quarterly. “Stuff They Wrote” is part of TNQ’s “Magazine as Muse” feature, in which writers credit magazines that inspired them to start writing down words, and even sharing them. Rebecca has written an ode to edgy teen magazine Sassy, and its “staffers” in particular. She writes, “Sassy was like a novel in a fundamental way. It had characters. Sassy brought that always-lurking I-perspective of journalism to the centre. The writers didn’t take over the stories (usually) but they didn’t elide themselves, either.”
Sassy was a world in which Rebecca could imagine herself, the writers bridging that gap between her life and theirs, suggesting limitless possibilities for the kind of woman girls could grow up to be. And when Sassy became swallowed up by a corporate behemoth, and a strange zombie Sassy emerged, Rebecca knew enough to know the difference, and had confidence enough to put pen to letter-to-editor to say so. It wasn’t too long after that Rebecca had her first story published, and she wouldn’t dismiss the idea of some connection there.
Confession: I didn’t like Sassy. Sassy scared me. Their rules were too loose, they went too far, they used questionable language, and were touting something I found close to anarchy (ie SEX!). As a young teenager, I thought the wide world was generally terrifying, and was convinced that drugs, drinks and dyed hair were signs of slips towards hell. Beware of scruffy boys with cigarettes who might dare to sport an earring. (And tuck your shirt in, young man). Mine was a puritanism born of fear of the unknown, as most puritanisms usually are.
So I had a subscription to Seventeen. Writes Rebecca, “Seventeen was imperative-voiced: columns and service pieces about how often you should brush your hair and how you might get into a bad crowd if you didn’t listen to your real feelings. Seventeen wasn’t like a story; it was like a textbook, only there were Eye Makeup and French-Kissing classes instead of Math and Geography.”
Oh, but some of us were in dire need of schooling. In a world so incredibly chaotic (with dances, and lockers, and gym class– oh my!), a textbook offered some assurance, and I followed mine quite dutifully. Back to School must-haves, awesome locker organizers, lipstick colours, and the best kind of Caboodle. I learned that it was okay to like Evan Dando (which was something upon which Sassy and Seventeen concurred). Sassy preached that you could be whoever you wanted, but I didn’t know who that was yet. I preferred the message of Seventeen instead– play the game right, and I just might fit in.
Not that I did fit in. I had oily hair and pulled my pants up to my armpits, but one issue of Seventeen in particular suggested that I might have half a chance. It was the issue from April 1993, whose date I only remember because I had it with me on a family vacation to Florida when I was in grade eight. It was the one single issue that I even remember, as not so much a muse as a re-framing of my world view, or at least of my place in it.
This was a new re-formatted Seventeen. A significant departure– I’ve found a record of old covers on line, and March 1993 was neon-hued, Andrew Shue playing volleyball. And then came April, with its muted-toned Earth Day theme. Shouting, Save the Earth, Girl! Which was cool. I don’t remember noticing the model’s hideous eyebrows then, but I liked her funky rings and hat. Inside, I remember a feature on slam-poetry (though it might well have been slam-poetry-inspired Bohemian fashions, but alas…) headlined, “Poetry/ is such a thing now.” Groovy, man. I wanted a beret. Someone wrote a piece about how amazing were the Beatles lyrics (citing, “She’s the kind of girl you want so much she makes you sorry…”) in comparison with whatever hit of the day was out then, and it was the first time I’d ever seen The Beatles (to whom I was obsessively devoted, so much that I was forbidden to speak of them at the dinner table because I was so incredibly boring) noted in contemporary pop culture. Poetry too, which I fancied myself a writer of. Book recommendations included one called Mrs. Dalloway— something like “the cool story of a single day in the life of a woman getting ready for a party!” I tried to read it, didn’t get it, but began to have it fixed in my mind that one day I would.
I probably just should have read Sassy, but I wasn’t ready to leave my shelter. The granola-y “reuse, recycle, renew, respect” Seventeen, however, provided a glimpse of an alternative culture that might provide me some space within it. Books were cool, The Beatles were cool, and poetry was cool, all of which I’d known already, but now somebody else knew it too. It was 1993, and I was inspired. En route to Florida I bought a flannel shirt at a Kentucky outlet mall– this was counter-culture. Naturally, I tucked it into my tapered jeans that were still pulled up to my armpits, but it was something, nonetheless. I was on my way.
May 4, 2009
There has never been a cuter cake
This cake from my baby shower this afternoon was about as delicious as it was adorable. And even home-decorated by one of the wonderful shower attendees, no less. Pretty much typical of the afternoon too– the shower itself was deserving of a cake this good, with amazing food and some of my very favourite company. Family and friends who were patient enough to sit around watching me open presents all afternoon. For such patience, I’m grateful, as well as for the presents themselves, which were so thoughtful, perfect, and as adorable as the cake. This is going to be one very blessed baby, and I’m so lucky already.
April 27, 2009
Tea for… Eight?
I hosted an afternoon tea today for my friend Jennie, who is getting married in July. It was the first time I’d ever made tea WITH sandwiches, which turned out not to be true at all as Stuart made all the sandwiches. They were delicious! We had smoked salmon, cucumber cream cheese, and cheddar and chutney. For sweets, we had banana cake, chocolate cupcakes and fresh fruit. And of course, scones with strawberry jam and devonshire cream. Tea options were hot and iced, and the whole thing was delicious. I am pleased, and grateful for a friend who lends the occasion of her wedding as an excuse to fulfill my own tea fixation. It was a very lovely afternoon.
April 26, 2009
Road Trip to Don Mills
I am going to be totally honest– I arrived with heightened expectations and they weren’t entirely met. I’d heard so many good things about McNally Robinson Booksellers out west that I couldn’t miss checking out their first Ontario location, way out in the Don Mills countryside. So we drove out there this morning, me and two bookish ladies, and my husband who couldn’t remember why he’d signed up for the adventure. We arrived at the shopping mall, which was strange and confusing, with people on segways zipping about, and other people on stilts. The sun was bright and the sky was blue, and I was comfortable wearing a tank top– a gorgeous day. We found the bookstore quickly, and hurried our way inside.
The space was great, the shop was crowded, I loved the light, and the trees, and two whole floors of books. It would have been nice, however, if staff hadn’t responded to every question with a shrug and, “We’ve just opened,” or if they’d had a copy of the book I’d come to buy, or if Stuart hadn’t been convinced he was actually in a Chapters. I’m not really sure what I was expecting, but dancing elephants might have been involved, and they weren’t there.
They did have Rebecca’s book, however, right beside the dirty avocado book, much to our 
delight. Lots of other books from small presses too, and the children’s section was wonderful, and we explored food books with great enthusiasm. I ended up getting The Story of a Marriage by Andrew Sean Greer, and Wheels on the Go for a friend of ours who’s turning two. And afterwards we went out for a suburban type meal at a chain restaurant, which was tremendous fun in the land of parking lots and fountains.
March 30, 2009
New life!
This weekend was marvelous, and yes, mostly because this little picture was taken yesterday across the road from my house. Spring has seen fit to descend upon us early, and I am so grateful. This weekend’s other delights just as splendid as the sunshine– ice cream eaten outside, dinner at Dessert Trends Bistro, lots of time for knitting, getting chores done, Midsomer Murders on DVD, rainy Sundays, rainy Sunday scrabble (with the power out!), brunch with friends, an afternoon tea party (with jammy scones), lots of reading. Lots of book buying too– we got the Free to Be… You and Me 35th Anniversary Edition (which came with a CD!) from Book City yesterday, ostensibly for the baby, but probably more for nostalgia (although the book is beautiful and looks totally up to date). Today’s brunch was located conveniently across the street from This Ain’t The Rosedale Library, and it just so happened I was in the market for The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery (upon the recommendation of Patricia Storms). Now I must go for a bubble bath, and read Lauren Groff’s new collection of short stories, Delicate Edible Birds. I am hoping to stay up past 9pm most nights this week, so I do foresee a bit more posting. But then again, you never can tell.
March 26, 2009
Rebecca and the Penguin: On Trends
The marvelous Rebecca Rosenblum, interviewed at the Pages website. Her delightfulness is evident. Best, I like:
Q: What trend in the world of contemporary Canadian letters would you like to put on ice?
R:I mainly miss trends–I have a lot on my personal agenda to read, andwhen I look around for something new, I want what my friends arereading and writing, not necessarily what’s new and popular. Besides, the nice thing about trends is that they are optional: I don’t personallywant to read about hot vampire sex, but I guess a lot of people do,and more power to’em. Although I did think things were going a bit farwhen I confessed that I’d not read any of the Harry Potter novels andsomeone said, “Really? But I thought you loved books!”
February 8, 2009
Reading in Pickle Colour
Today I finally picked up a copy of the marvelous I Can Read With My Eyes Shut, which might be the closest thing to a holy book those in my religion have– in rhyme no less. (“The more that you read,/ the more you will know./ The more that you learn,/ the more places you’ll go.”) And I like to think the first page (shown here) was a reference to Pickle Me This. I got the book at Circus Books and Music, which is a wonderful store with exceptional children’s books. We were out on the Danforth after a spectacular brunch at The Only Cafe, and then walked westward. At the Danforth Type Books, I bought I Kissed the Baby, but not for me, that one. (Oh no, it’s for the baby’s library.) Outside, we’re enjoying this crazy February Sunday Sun again and it’s wonderful.
February 3, 2009
A delight to live inside
I’ve got a lot to say, but Monday evenings deliver only the briefest window between pre-natal yoga and Midsomer Murders, and so alas. Let it be known that I’m now reading Revolutionary Road, which was a Zmas gift from my friend Bronwyn, and that I spoiled the ending today through wikipedian ramblings, which I’m a bit annoyed about, but I’m still enjoying the read. And that because the last couple of weeks (and more?) have been wrought with anxiety, tension and stress, this weekend was such a delight to live inside. I’ve been volunteering at the Children’s Book Bank since New Year, and have found it’s more than a pleasure to read stories one after another to eager children who then just want one more. On Saturday night, we hosted a small birthday gathering for the one-of-a-kind e. smith, with a special appearance from our beloved Sk8 who’s been in South America for the past two years. And there were cupcakes, oh yes. Then Sunday morning in Kensington, where cheese curds were had and sunshine was soaked and we held hands without mittens, and ice was melting everywhere. A glimpse of spring, which was the best thing. I arrived home with thousands of things to do, but decided to spend the afternoon asleep in my slanket instead. We had dearest friends over for a roast chicken dinner, and it was delicious, company was lovely. And best of all, that our baby is a kickboxer (sport of the future). The flutters have turned to thumps, and I think they just might be the more amazing sensation I’ve ever experienced. I could get kicked and kicked all day.
January 5, 2009
Hear me read.
Today I’m the reader reading at Julie Wilson’s marvelous Seen Reading, and I’m reading from Rebecca Rosenblum‘s Once, from the story “The Words” which I’ve loved for years– this passage in particular. I am reading in a bathroom with a book launch crowd outside, and Julie Wilson had to teach me to say “ennui”, but the rest I knew already.
November 30, 2008
Those Saturdays
Aren’t they the best, those Saturdays you have to be up early in time for the exterminator’s arrival? They certainly pave the way for the best lazy Sundays at least, because though today’s weather is les misérables, I don’t even have to go outside (or at least not much farther than one would venture for a paper). Because I was up so early yesterday that I’d finished reading a book and written 1200 words of fiction before it was time to go out for lunch. Lunch was delightful, yum roast vegetable sandwiches you never fail to satisfy. And then to Book City, to buy a stack of Christmas gifts, fully confident in the direction I was flinging my money. I also had occasion to pick out a jar of luscious jam at the grocery store, which is one of my favourite delights (along with the very fact of preserves in general).
It was coldish outside yesterday, but not really, and the sun was shining, so our walk down to the wool shop was perfectly delightful. I purchased the wool of my dreams for my baby’s blanket, that which we’ll reserve to be the first object to envelop it (save for our arms). The wool is greyish blueish and not babyish at all, which is what I wanted. The blanket will be beautiful and two rows in is (still) perfect.
We continued along Queen St., stopping in at Dufflet for a cake break. Chocolate banana mini-bundt cake did the trick, and then further onwards to Type where I bought another stack of books for other people (oh, book buying without compunction– such a delight!), and then we walked north through Trinity Bellwoods Park and down College Street, through our old hood. We stopped at She Said Boom and I was compelled to buy a copy of the Paris Review Interviews Vol. I, which was book buying with (only) some compunction. I am very excited to read it, and thought it wouldn’t be fair for me to be the only person yesterday for whom I did not buy a book.
We arrived home as the sun went down, and I was cooked my favourite meal for dinner (sweet potato and black bean quesidilla yum). And though I was zonked to death there was energy left for Alex and Bronwyn’s housewarming party, which was thoroughly unnecessary I thought, as their house was already the warmest place I knew. Turned out it got warmer, and the evening was wonderful, but I very did nearly require carrying up the subway stairs as we stumbled home towards bed.
And now an avocado is in my immediate future: fun never, ever ends.
