July 24, 2008
Already Elsewhere
Taking offense to a recent article which termed fiction as distraction, and non-fiction as enlightenment, my friend K at The Pop Triad has some wonderful things to say:
“Fiction is a distraction, but all books are. Reading steals you from the sensory world around you and immerses you in the interior world of the pages in front of you. The temperature and sounds of the place where you sit to read, your seat itself, are irrelevant. You could be anywhere because you are already elsewhere.”
And she wonders if “it’s time to reconsider our collective mindset about the kinds of books that are distractingly enlightening and the kinds that are simply distracting.”
July 20, 2008
50 Bonus Points
Scrabble in the park is the perfect activity for a sunny Saturday afternoon, but when sun suddenly turns into downpour, nothing could be more perfect than Scrabble indoors. In air conditioning, no less, at the wonderful home of the even more wonderful K, and this game was legend. I have never ever been more on fire, or, alternatively, I’ve never had such luck of letters, and my victory was certainly fixed when I used them all to spell out “neutrons”.
July 16, 2008
Scream in High Park
Our trip last night to The Scream Literary Festival’s “Scream in High Park” Mainstage was quite well-documented. Off we went, waving good-bye, with a picnic full of carbs in tow. Took the subway to High Park Station and then walked deep deep into the woods, and claimed some prime seating at the venue.
The menu consisted of pasta salad, Rosenblum bread, avocado scones, cheese, and sweet snacks ala Enright. But if you can believe it, such a delicious spread wasn’t even the main event.
First up was the magnificent Mariko Tamaki, writer of Skim, which I’ve been lusting after for a while. (See Tamaki to the right). She opened her set with a poem comprising Facebook statuses of yore, read and excerpt from Skim, and then an essay about ephemerality that was well and truly lovely.
Another delight was seeing Claudia Dey read again from Stunt. As a reader she is as compelling as Tamaki, though in a different way, and I would have run right out and bought her book if I hadn’t done so already.
I also loved Sonnet L’Abbé, Wayde Compton with Jason de Coutu, Ray Robertson and Motion. I would have loved even more too, except I had to work in the morning and so we left before the final set. And it was too dark by then to take a photo of us waving goodbye.
Such a magical evening, assembled there with friends and strangers. Inside a forest in the midst of this big city, a summer night that grew cool as the sun went down. Fireflies stealing the show, those luminous acrobats– I could hardly keep my eyes off them.
And in terms of the human performers, I’m not sure who stole the show most, though the lineups at the booksale provided a very good indication…
July 14, 2008
Bibliochaos
The scene at right indicates a house in chaos, indeed. The room where the books live is being painted (walls, trim and built-in shelving). It’s a big job, and so the books have sought safe harbour under the stairs (in alphabetized stacks, of course). So far I’ve not had to dig through in search of anything, though something will come up over the next few days, inevitably. The very best thing about the redec being that I’ll be able to post a picture of my library afterwards, which I haven’t done up until now because it was horrible.
This weekend was brilliant. We had four (4!) parties to attend, and were hosted marvelously, had such a wonderful time with friends. Today’s was even in suburbia, and we got to swim in a pool– such a treat. I’m now reading Marilynne Robinson’s new novel Home, about to curl up somewhere comfortable and read the very end. If this book is something you’ve been waiting for, I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.
July 8, 2008
Good Links
Links of late include “The Cattle-Prod Election” from The LRB: “This endless raft of educated opinion needs to be kept afloat on some data indicating that it matters what informed people say about politics, because it helps the voters to decide which way to jump. If you keep the polling sample sizes small enough, you can create the impression of a public willing to be moved by what other people are saying. That’s why the comment industry pays for this rubbish.”
Rona Maynard writing brilliantly of “The Hillary I’ll Be Watching”: “She has become in defeat the woman she could not be while her victory seemed inevitable, or at least dimly conceivable—a woman freely and fully herself while stretching the bounds of possibility before the assembled cameras of the entire world.”
Luckybeans visits a tea estate. Rebecca Rosenblum encounters a roadside box of mugs. Celebrating The London Review Bookshop (whose success is partly down to cake). Dovegreyreader ponders Canadian Literature (and “A Case of You”) from her Devonshire perch. Fascinatingly, on why you’re probably wrong about probability. Lately I’ve been reading and enjoying Antonia Zerbisias’s Broadsides Blog, and today in particular, her links to comedian Sarah Haskins’s Target Women videos– “Yogurt” is my favourite. Justine Picardie on Henrietta Llewelyn Davies, “a psychic astrologer with a literary client list, and an Oxford degree in English literature” and blood ties to Daphne Du Maurier to boot.
Speaking of yogourt, I just bought three tubs of the stuff. As well as pudding, soups, banana smoothie ingredients, apple sauce, vegetable juice, and ice cream. I’ve got the day off work tomorrow. Any idea what I’ll be getting up to hmmmm?
June 26, 2008
Worthwhile
You’ll have to buy the magazine, but do check out Guy Gavriel Kay’s “Summertime When the Visigoths Go Pillaging” in the July/August issue of The Walrus. I’d quote the whole thing, it’s that lovely, but I’ll settle for, “…I suspect we all have inward links between some books and where we were when we escaped into them. Everyone knows the memory links to scents or the pop songs of teenage summers, but I suspect if we reach back and in, we’ll find many of the books of our lives to be vividly time and place specific too.” Indeed.
My friend Lauren Kirshner has started blogging, and her posts demonstrate her immense talents. (She’s got a book Where We Have to Go being published by McClelland and Stewart in the spring). Kate Sutherland’s post post on Anne of Green Gables at 100 (to the day) is fabulous, quoting from Montgomery’s journal entry the day her book came: “There in my hand lay the material realization of all the dreams and hopes and ambitions and struggles of my whole conscious existence—my first book!” Fine Lines (my favourite diversion) is going to become a book! And a profile of Jhumpa Lahiri.
I also went to the ROM this weekend. Their exhibit “Out from Under: Disability, History, and Things to Remember” is extraordinary (and on until July 13).
June 24, 2008
Club Hand
I’ve been over-indulging in all my favourite pleasures of late (i.e. train travel, strawberries and sugar), but then I’ve got a birthday upcoming. So it was for this reason then that Stuart and I partook in Afternoon Tea at the Four Seasons this Sunday– which is my absolute favourite thing in the entire world. Accompanied by Bronwyn and her husband Alex, and it was perfect from start to finish, the weather complementing the sun-dresses we’d planned to wear all along. The tiny sandwiches delicious, tiny cakes delectable, the scones brilliantly fresh and sided with copious jam and cream, and yeah, the tea was good too. Overwhelming always to be in the midst of my favourite thing in the world, but I survived. It was absolutely wonderful.
Disturbing, however, was the revelation that my pinkie finger doesn’t work. As I don’t do most things properly (even those I love best), I’d never made a point of holding my teacup like the Queen does (or her friends), but I was devastated to realize that I physically can’t. My pinkie doesn’t go that way, and it doesn’t even when I’m not holding my cup, and then everybody started calling me “Club Hand”. They said I had fingers that were toes. Which is better than some people I know who’ve got toes that are actually fingers, but I’m not naming names…
June 24, 2008
Fun with Ichigo
For the second year in a row I’ve found my bookish pursuits in line with the season. It was almost a year ago that I first read Animal Vegetable Miracle, and I’m now reading The Perfection of the Morning, having finished the mesmerizing Prodigal Summer just before it. Both books inspiring a yearning to get closer to the earth, and so I did when any earth loving city dweller does for such a connection in the month of June–I ventured out past the suburbs.
Around our house June is one of the best times, full to bursting with fun and fetes, the sunshine and the solstice, and then the strawberries. I don’t have faith in a lot of things, but the very fact that delight manages to grow itself on trees (or at least bushes) suggests to me the world’s inherent goodness. The amazing abundance of summer time and sweet things, and all of this is well celebrated with a trip to the strawberry patch.
I went on Saturday with our friends Carolyn and Steve, and proceed to pick far too much out of fear of not enough. It was a gorgeous afternoon, well-spent toiling in the fields in suburban fashion. Ten litres I picked, an entire bucket and more, and I also acquired some new freckles and aches in my old lady knees.
Afterwards we came back to my house and the toiling continued (for a woman’s work is never done, moan moan, but of course, as usual, I did my suffering in silence). Carolyn and I made batches and batches of jam (albeit freezer jam, as our preserving ambitions still have some way to go). We used an obscene amount of sugar, and then ran out of sugar and had to go buy some more.
Soon the fridge was full of jammy delights the kitchen resembling a strawberry explosion. 
Dripping down the cupboard doors, staining counter tops, a couple of grubby finger prints up and down the telephone. Piles and piles of dirty dishes and utensils, and then, for fear of not having dirtied absolutely everything (and because it is one of my favourite things to do), I baked two strawberry pies. One for eating that evening (and it was delicious), the other put away in the freezer for a while. I intend to do as much with every fresh fruit appearing all summer long, and then come winter have a defrostable treasure trove of summer fruit goodness.
June 11, 2008
Rosenblum Reading
It’s not quite fair, as I booked the day off three months ago and you’ll only get a few days notice, but I wanted to let you know about an excellent event this Friday. Rebecca Rosenblum will be reading this Friday at 12:30 pm at Toronto Public Library’s Northern District Branch as part of the Luminato Festival of the Short Story. David Whitton will also be reading, Lynn Coady moderating. I am terribly excited. Rebecca’s book comes out in September.
June 9, 2008
Magic Tricks
Summer has begun to work its magic. For example, on Friday I inadvertently had ice cream three times. Friends materialized in the evening, and fun was had. Saturday was even more miraculous– tea and crumpets in the sunshine, with the paper. We had a picnic that afternoon, returning to our beloved Trinity Bellwoods park, and we welcomed an ant for the occasion, just so convention could be defied.
It was a splendid afternoon, the sunshine sure for the first time this year. Though of course we were sitting under a shady tree, feasting on good bread and cheese, and also blueberries (which were from far away, please don’t tell Barbara Kingsolver). Enjoying the absolute heaven that is that park, and the privilege of such peace in a bustling city.
We partook in a game of Scrabble (our magnetic pocket set), and competition was intense. I am pretty bad at Scrabble, so I was quite pleased to accomplish highlights Bandit and Oasis, with a triple world score for each of them.
Friends came in the evening, mix of new and old, but both much adored. Delicious barbeque miracles, and the fridge stocked with beer, and fine conversation (which, it was pointed out, did tend to be a bit too 1998-centric so we tried to curb that, but failed). It was the first night this year we were not driven inside by cold, and so we could stay out late on the deck, watching tricks performed by bats.
