August 8, 2007
Golden tomatoes and blue potatoes
Now rereading Carol Shields’s Unless, her masterpiece. I reread this book every summer, an amazing experience that allows one to, for example, pause and ponder the first paragraph for about ten minutes straight. It’s also sad and heartening to be reading this book after having read her book of letters with Blanche Howard in June. I also still maintain that this book is a treatise on novel-writing, which is very exciting seeing as I am returning to my own novel in just a few weeks after this summer of short stories. Anyway, I am enjoying this much the same way I always do, but also differently, of course.
I liked Michael Holroyd’s exasperation with author acknowledgements, as much as acknowledgements are the first part of any book I read. I also enjoyed Holroyd’s sister in law AS Byatt’s treatment of Middlemarch, which you might recall I read for the first time and fell in love with earlier this year. Byatt’s Possession is being “twinned” with Middlemarch for the Vintage Classic Twins Editions, which were brilliantly introduced to me here at dovergreyreader scribbles.
And it’s been nearly a week since I mentioned the garden last– you all must be on the edge of your seats! For your information my husband is now reading Animal Vegetable Miracle and is more obsessed than I was. We revisited the brilliant Trinity Bellwoods Farmers Market and brought home tons of wonderful stuff, including blue potatoes and blackberries. We did a harvest of our garden tonight, and brought in two enormous bowls of tomatoes of all kinds– the window sill is crowded. Tomorrow night I am going to attempt a golden tomato sauce.
August 8, 2007
Let the Northern Lights Erase Your Name by Vendela Vida
“People assume those in mourning aren’t thinking clearly,” explains Clarissa, the heroine of Vendela Vida’s novel Let the Northern Lights Erase Your Name. “Ha! My brain was a razor. A flesh-eating predator.” With prose stripped so bare, this spare and understated narrative follows Clarissa on a journey to Lapland after she learns the man she called her father wasn’t her father at all. Her other relationships are similarly hollow: her brother has Down’s Syndrome and doesn’t communicate; her fiance says he loves her and she pretends to be asleep; Clarissa’s mother disappeared when she was fourteen, leaving her in a bakery because, as the woman at the counter reported, “she got tired of waiting.” Clarissa is incredibly alone, but all the while this thought runs through her head like a mantra: There must be someone else… There must be someone I’m closer to.
Seeking this “someone” Clarissa escapes to the north of Finland, directed by clues to her real father’s identity. What follows is a quest of sorts, but one much diverted, exhausted. It’s fascinating, however, to learn more about this part of the world so unknown to me and Vida paints a sense of place so well– a place which lends itself to this “razor-sharp prose” in its own barreness. Reading this story was a curious experience however– I was not ultimately sure that I liked it. The prose, the choice and spare details, the traumatized voice all seemed much like what would be found in a short story, and to have it sustained for the length of a novel didn’t feel quite right. A certain superficiality seemed the result, but then, oh, I read the end. The end of this novel is magic spun out of gold– surprising, risky, realized and incredibly satisfying. Casting the entire novel in a different light than I’d been viewing it in all along, and the fact was I loved it. Which I couldn’t have told you twenty pages from the end, but from the final sentence, clearly it was so.
~And when I would hear people say that you can’t start over, that you cannot escape the past, I would think You can. You must.~
*Check out Tim’s review of this book at Baby Got Books.
August 7, 2007
August
“Every year, the bright Scandinavian summer nights fade away without anyone’s noticing. One evening in August you have an errand outdoors, and all of a sudden it’s pitch-black. A great warm, dark silence surrounds the house. It is still summer, but the summer is no longer alive. It has come to a standstilll; nothing withers, and autumn is not ready to begin. There are no stars yet, just darkness. The can of kerosene is brought up from the cellar and left in the hall, and the lamp is hung up on its peg beside the door.” –Tove Jansson, “The Summer Book”
August 7, 2007
Pickle Me This goes to Quebec
Another exciting weekend, and Pickle Me This is tired of travel having just endured twelve hours of it by car. But entirely worth it of course, as we visited the paradisical Eastern Townships of Quebec for the wedding of my beautiful cousin/best friend Susannah, and her beloved Loic. An absolutely perfect day, full of sunshine, flowers, good wine and music. A bilingual wedding pulled off without a hitch, and with a Scottish piper for added cultural value. We were so happy to be there, and they’re a wonderful couple we’re so lucky to call family and friends. Find below photos of Stuart and I (representing my English-by-marriageness in millinery fashion), me avec mother and sister, and, of course, the lovely bride and groom cutting their gateau. 
August 3, 2007
An island can be dreadful
“An island can be dreadful for someone from outside. Everything is complete, and everyone has his obstinate, sure and self-sufficient place. Within their shores, everything functions according to rituals that are as hard as rock from repetition, and at the same time they amble through their days as whimsically and casually as if the world ended at the horizon.” –Tove Jansson, The Summer Book
August 3, 2007
Summer books
Will quite shortly be now-rereading The Summer Book by Tove Janssen, which I bought in 2003 when I lived in England, solely because the edition Sort Of Books brought out then was absolutely gorgeous. The bright blue of the photograph on the cover, the photos on the endpages, even the typeface was perfect. I do remember reading this novel in the manky bathtub of my ramshackle terrace house on Silverdale Road, but I regret that I’ve forgotten everything within it. Surely there is more to this book than its cover, and I am excited to rediscover just that. I also think it will make a fine companion to my recently-completed To the Lighthouse. And once that’s done, just to flip the solstice 180 degrees, I am going to read Vendela Vida’s Let the Northern Lights Erase Your Name.
I think it’s best to plan ahead.
August 3, 2007
Magic Penny
Disturbing revelations today about the song “Magic Penny”, which I bet you didn’t know was composed by Malvina Reynolds, and which I bet you really didn’t know I used to sing at Sunday School. “Love is something if you give it away, give it away. Love is something if you give it away– you end up having more.” Hmm. Is it any wonder that promiscuity is (apparently) rampant among pre-teens? When giving love away is promoted as the best way to get love back? The song goes on to explain that when you hold on tight to your pennies you get nothing back, but it’s lending and spending that is key to wealth accumulation, and I’m really not so sure about that. No wonder I’ve been led astray! But how illuminating, really, to think the source of so much that ails us can be traced right back to Sunday School. I should have known all along…
August 2, 2007
Precision
“‘It’s odd that one scarcely gets anything worth having by post, yet one always wants one’s letters,’ said Mr. Bankes.
What damned rot they talk, thought Charles Tansley, laying down his spoon precisely in the middle of his plate…” -from To the Lighthouse
August 2, 2007
Boys are ordinary
Happy she is tonight, what with golden tomatoes ripe in the garden, and a short story forthcoming in The New Quarterly. Up to her elbows, also, in To the Lighthouse, and with a date scheduled with Rebecca Rosenblum. The whole third person thing because she’s somewhat delirious with glee, and because sometimes the universe sets up so well.
July 31, 2007
Trinity Bellwoods Farmers Market
And so the garden continues to churn out baby tomatoes, cucumbers abounding, no critters have yet eaten the melons, in a few weeks we’ll have red peppers. We’re a bit worried about the big tomatoes, which may have been living a bit too close to the bbq lately and just don’t seem to be ripening, but fingers crossed. All goes well. And tonight we went to Trinity Bellwoods Farmers Market which is very close to our house, and we were thrilled to find their bounty a-plenty still at six o’clock when we were able to get down there. Brilliant! We got swiss chard, pattypan squash, yellow zucchini, baby eggplant, basil, beets (red and yellow), and corn. How fun is eating local in August? Tonight we had pizza and it was absolutely delicious.
In related news, I’m now getting a bit of Laurie Colwin’s Home Cooking on the side.
