February 11, 2007

Culling Nothing

Wonderful! Some writers’ rooms (with photos!). This one is Hilary Mantel’s. Here for literary friendships, and rivalries. Calvin Trillin in conversation. The beginning of this article is something a lot of book collectors can related to, on pruning your shelves: “…the same thing happens with every potential discard: You start to read it. Four hours later, you wake up on the floor, having culled nothing.” This article pleased me– on being a good wife. Heather Mallick’s manifesto— it’s always amusing to read the comments of her irate (and apparently avid) readers.

February 8, 2007

At 57 Mount Pleasant Street

Bronwyn and I once had the pleasure (or terror) of seeing The Proclaimers live at the T in the Park festival in Scotland, and I must say I’ve never been part of a scarier crowd. We both very nearly cried, but then neither of us thrive in chaos at the best of time. We just thought that we like “500 Miles” sort of, and we could hum along with it, but the experience was like being at a ten-thousand-strong revival when you’re sort of not bothered about Jsus. It was a cultural thing, and I thought of it whilst reading this article about how the English just don’t “get” the point of those bespectacled boys. The Costa Book of the Year has been won, and it’s a book researched entirely in the British library which takes place in Northern Ontario. Ohhh! CanCon (sort of). On movie/book cover tie-ins. Irène Némirovsky. And last night I was lucky enough to attend Trudeau night at The Kama Reading Series which was lovely, except that Stephen Clarkson and Peter C. Newman never showed!

Today I’m starting Jacob’s Room for the first time.

February 7, 2007

Voluble

“A literary portrait of marriage”, so says this profile of Calvin Trillin of About Alice (which I read in December). A different perspective on those streamlined classics. Margaret Atwood once again on arts funding cuts.

Just finishing No Longer at Ease.

My friend Sk8 proposed to her lovely boyfriend in the company of bison on Sunday, and he said yes. Hooray!

And finally, Sunday night I saw a penguin being eaten by a seal on David Attenborough, and I’ve been traumatized ever since.

January 29, 2007

Show and tell

Last week The Robber Bride TV movie was slagged off in the Globe, and I must voice my disagreement. The adaptation wasn’t flawless by any means, and I do wonder how the story was different for a man having joined the triumvirate which told so much about women’s relationships. Nevertheless. For two hours last Sunday night my husband and I sat together and thoroughly enjoyed a made-for-CBC movie and I consider this an unusual mark of great achievement.

Speaking of Ms. Atwood, her fine and illuminating piece in Saturday’s paper is here, regarding the federal government axing the promotion of Canadian arts abroad. Mix-Tape mania at The Observer. Today’s feature on violence in Nottingham (which was my home for a while) turns bookish in its reference to the 1958 novel Saturday Night and Sunday Morning by Alan Sillitoe, and I’ve decided to read it soon. Q&A with the marvelous Sue Townsend. Canadians write great songs— Joni Mitchell in particular. Katrina Onstad concurs.

Why why why instead of actually governing has our government launched an idiotic attack upon its opposition? Please please please let’s not retaliate. Give Canadians some credit for intelligence, let this crap slide, and win favour with integrity and dignity.

Things Fall Apart was as powerful as they said. Oh my goodness the last chapter. And this book enlightened quite a few bits of the brilliant Half of a Yellow Sun.

Though the amazon link for this book is such a lesson in idiot reviewing. Can you imagine prefacing your review of a book like this with “As a writer myself…”? Some nerve. Virginia Woolf never even did that in her criticism, and unless you are Virginia Woolf, you probably shouldn’t either. (I googled said reviewer, and found a link to some of his “work” which was unsurprisingly a pile of crap.) Further, knocking Achebe for his failure to show instead of tell? Oh go puke on yourself. Really.

I’m beginning to sound irate. However it’s January, which is excuse enough, and I will be nicer tomorrow. Now I am going to read Rosemary’s Baby for a good dose of satnic action. Though if it tells instead of shows, I’m totally asking the public library for a refund.

January 26, 2007

Notes on a Scandal

The Guardian Books Blog on books that make you talk to strangers. Whenever I see someone reading Unless, I want to tell them it’s my favourite book in all the world, though I don’t think I ever have. At my library job, however, I am compelled to let patrons know when I think the book they’ve selected is wonderful. And often lately, it has been Interpreter of Maladies or Small Island.

And books to read on trains. The great train reads of my life have been Slouching Towards Bethlehem on the shinkansen to Hiroshima; Various Miracles on the way to Osaka one afternoon (and I read the story “Scenes” whilst stopped at Amagasaki); when we lived in England, our train rides were usually passed with Sunday papers. And I don’t get to take the train anymore, but last year Sweetness in the Belly sure passed a bus journey from Toronto to Ottawa and back just fine.

An interview with Zoe Heller.

Now reading A Biographer’s Tale by AS Byatt, which was not well-regarded by the amazon reviewers, but I like it much so far. And the Public Library has called, with Rosemary’s Baby by Ira Levin (we watched the movie last weekend; it was an obsession of mine in high school; I’m interested in the novel) and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (my February classic). Once again, I suppose I can say I have all I need.

Except hair elastics. All of mine have disappeared.

January 23, 2007

The Third Age

I was interested to see Margaret Drabble cited in the recent Macleans article “The 27 Year Itch” regarding late-life divorce for having coined the phrase “The Third Age” in her The Seven Sisters. On the digitalization of reading. Jenny Diski on compacting the classics, which is horrifyingly awful.

I’m now reading The Little Girl Who Was Too Fond of Matches to put a little Canadienne in my CanLit. And it’s wonderful. I came home from the library this morn also bearing Things Fall Apart and Youth.

January 23, 2007

In lieu of sensationalism.

Rather than religiously following Canada’s largest murder trial in all its grisly detail, may I suggest you instead read Missing Sarah by Maggie de Vries. I read this book last May, and it’s stayed with me since, and changed the way I think of both prostitution in general, and this court case. Maggie de Vries tells the story of her sister Sarah with such compassion and love, and instills her with the humanity she was so denied at the end of her life.

January 21, 2007

Confronted by Fiction

The book I just finished, I am embarrassed to name, and the book I am reading at the moment, I don’t like much at all. This state of affairs is a deep dark hole which doesn’t please me, and I’ll be climbing out of it in a day or two.

Part two of the Treatise of Zadie Smith. “To read The Virgin Suicides followed by The Idiot followed by Despair followed by You Bright and Risen Angels followed by Bleak House followed by Jonah’s Gourd Vine followed by Play it as it Lays is to be forced to recognise the inviolability of the individual human experience. Fiction confronts you with the awesome fact that you are not the only real thing in this world.” (Oh Zadie I swoon!). Edith Wharton in France. Go Hillary! (How refreshing– a chance for a better world!)

The Robber Bride’s TV adaptation is on tonight. I’ll be watching, mainly because I’ve just started a knitting project and TV becomes handy then– particularly when it’s bookish.

January 14, 2007

Stu is fine

Zadie Smith’s article on writing fiction is gorgeous, but gut-wrenching (or at least I thought so). “To become better readers and writers we have to ask of each other a little bit more.” Here for what happens to a poem when it rhymes. Harper Lee attends a student performance of To Kill a Mockingbird. They like My Wedding Dress in this review.

We’ve had a wonderful weekend. Out to Thai Basil Friday night, and the food was delicious. Andrea and Chris (of that valuable internet resource www.chrislev.com) came for dinner last night, and we partook in Apples to Apples with great joy. We’ve done a lot of relaxing too, which is fine as Stuart has to get up early tomorrow morning to fly to Montreal for a meeting. (How exciting!)

Speaking of Stuart, his family has reported that they don’t get enough Stuart updates here at Pickle Me This. You see, they live faraway across the sea, and six days out of seven, this site is their only portal into their dear son’s world. (And on the seventh day, there is the telephone). Perhaps I should start a blog devoted to Stuart, like Mama Bloggers do with their wee ones. With photos of Stu’s latest antics, and anecdotes about the cute things he says, and photos of him in bathtubs or sandboxes with other kids his age. Not that he gets up to much of that so often. And I’m not sure that Stuart would be too impressed with so much attention. We may just have to stick with our periodic updates, but rest assured that he’s doing just fine.

January 12, 2007

Peppermint Love

I’ve just learned that my household has acquired Apples to Apples, which is one of the most enjoyable games I’ve ever played. Though I hate most games so my perspective is limited, and this one is bound to infuriate serious game-lovers, as it has no rules. Though I still lost at it when we played, but I lose at all games. It’s my constitution. And so that’s fun news, and more fun is that I’ve got a date with my husband this eve. We’re having company for dinner tomorrow night and I’m looking forward to that (as well as a chance to break out the game?). And so life continues lamely, but nicely.

I finished rereading Alice Munro’s Who Do You Think you Are? yesterday. What an incredible book. I reread the legendary Lives of Girls and Women last summer, and wasn’t as impressed as I’d wanted to be. I think that Munro was constrained by “A Novel”, and Who Do You Think…, while definitely connected, was obviously composed of short stories and she’s better at that. In fact, she is extraordinary at that. I know I’m certainly not the first one to say so. It’s just nice to be reminded. And I’m now reading Noah Richler’s This Is My Country, What’s Yours?”, which is cool because the only other book on CanLit I’ve ever read was published in 1972, and certainly a lot has happened since then.

Here for an article on Richler’s and a few other unusual Canadian atlases, and their lessons on Canadian identity. 50,000 copies of Andrea Levy’s brilliant Small Island have been distributed through parts of Britain “to encourage reading, and discussion”. (Wonderful connections between Levy’s novel and Kate Atkinson’s work have just dawned on me). Here for Literary Pop Idolatry. Type Books in the press (and the business press to boot).

My new teapot is full of peppermint love, and I shall get down to an afternoon of glorious work.