December 29, 2006
New Arrivals
The Voyage Out and Jacob’s Room by Virginia Woolf from Mum and Dad England
Reading Like a Writer by Francine Prose from my Mom Stateside (or thereabouts)
Decca: the Letters of Jessica Mitford from Bronners
Two volumes of Buddha by Osamu Tezuka, which actually came into my husband’s life but we share lives
The Hunters by Claire Messud which I found for a dollar in a bookshop
Similarly, I got a hard cover copy of Love Story by Erich Segal for a dollar too. I bought it to replace the school library book I stole in grade seven, and subsequently read to pieces. I believe this novel might just be godawful, but I have always loved it. And sometimes (often?) love does mean having to say you’re sorry– for having terrible terrible taste.
December 29, 2006
Happy
Congratulations to my dear friend Bronwyn and her much deserving Alex whose engagement we celebrated tonight. You are so lucky to have found each other and may your lives be so happy.
December 28, 2006
About Alice by Calvin Trillin
What lies behind my fascination with memoirs by widowed spouses? There is something terribly indulgent about reading these books. Why do I cherish The Year of Magical Thinking and The Escape Artist, am looking forward to reading Love is a Mix Tape and have been anticipating About Alice by Calvin Trillin for months now? I have narrowed it down to the fact that I like reading about happy marriages, which are near-impossible to capture in fiction, and require a death in non-fiction in order to be considered book-worthy.
I spent a lovely bit of time tonight with the awaited About Alice, a love letter from Calvin Trillin to his wife. Expanded from his essay “Alice Off the Page”, which was published in The New Yorker last March, this small and perfect volume tells the story of an extraordinary woman, of the man who loved her, and the story of their life together until her death from cancer in 2001. Typically for Trillin, the writing is funny even when it’s sad, though the ending can’t help but break your heart a little. But what is most powerful about this book is Alice herself, or the way in which she is presented in the light of her husband’s love.
A seriously gorgeous woman (as the photo on the book’s back cover attests), Alice Stewart Trillin was also brilliant. Fiercely principled and protective of her camp, she exemplified a life well-lived and served as a force for good. It’s good to read about people like that– a dose of the positive, even with the awful ending. It’s good to know there are marriages like that– such strong foundations in our often dismal world. And it’s hope too, for those of us who want to keep on being happy for as long as we possibly can.
Trillin writes that one of Alice’s signature phrases was “We’re so lucky”. And she was especially lucky to have a husband who writes so well and loves her enough to create such tribute. And the rest of us, of course, are so lucky just to get to read it.
December 23, 2006
Merry Christmas
It’s nearly The Eve, and we’ve been rocking out lately to Snoopy and the Red Baron, Do They Know It’s Christmas, Fairytale of New York, All I Want for Christmas is You, Please Come Home for Christmas, Oh Holy Night and When a Child is Born (among other fine tunes). We’re getting ready for all our favourite Clare-Lawler Christmas traditions ie Slade, brunch, a Mexican supper, and our annual Love Actually viewing. And then it’s off to PTBO for a couple of days of family fun, all the while we’ll be missing our family far across the sea. I hope that everybody passes the next few days properly. Yuletide yeas.
December 22, 2006
Special Topics etc.
I will be brief about Special Topics in Calamity Physics as so many reviews have said so much already (I’d link to more reviews, but my internet is dial-upily slow today, who knows why). As always, I would dismiss the opinion of all those who couldn’t get through it because this book’s ending was my favourite thing about it. I also would not accuse the novel of pretentiousness, but rather it is meant to be a critique of pretentiousness– not an entirely successful one, however. Similarly, the novels gestures toward an extreme bookishness, which a reader can’t quite buy as many of the books discussed within this one aren’t even actual books. Comparisons to Donna Tartt are made easily, but Pessl’s characters are not as interesting (in fact, Blue van Meer’s teenage peers are incredibly boring). Comparing anyone to Nabokov is a bit unfair. In typical American styly, the book is big as a brick and I’m not sure it has to be (though I’m hardly one to talk– my attempt at brevity is already failing). The inevitable however. The first third of this book is hardly a slog, but it’s annoying in parts. I think that fake bookishness might be worse than pretentious bookishness. The second third of the book is better, but far too focussed on the secret life of teenagers, which of course is boring. The third part of the book, however, is golden. It’s what I imagine that DaVinci book might be like for people who liked it. Murder mystery/thriller/race to the end/gutting twist etc. Marisha Pessl is trying to do far too much with her debut novel, but the upside of that is that I think most people could find something to like in this book.
Now rereading Jane Eyre, which I read last eleven years ago when I was in grade eleven English. “I hate English!” is written on the title page in my handwriting, but I do remember liking this book and I’m loving it now. Continuing with uTOpia, which actually has many more good essays than bad ones, and I’m learning a lot. I particularly like the way essays unconsciously counter and disagree with one another, which fits the complexity of the issues this book is addressing. Oh, and Curtis bought me a subscription to Vanity Fair, which I’ve been dreaming of for my whole life. He and Erin came over for dinner last night, and my risotto debut was a giant success. We all drank too much wine, and had inordinate amounts of good conversation.
December 20, 2006
Pickle Me This Picks of '06
What you’ve all been waiting for, to enhance your reading lists for ’07, or to help you get that Christmas shopping done.
New(ish) Fiction Picks
Sweetness in the Belly by Camilla Gibb
On Beauty by Zadie Smith
Alligator by Lisa Moore
The Accidental by Ali Smith
Mean Boy by Lynn Coady
When I Was Young and In My Prime by Alayna Munce
Saturday by Ian Mcewan
The Emperor’s Children by Claire Messud
The History of Love by Nicole Krauss
Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
Memoir Picks:
The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion
Giving Up the Ghost by Hilary Mantel
Poetry Pick:
The Octopus and Other Poems by Jennica Harper
Anthology Pick:
Writing Life by Constance Rooke (ed)
Non-Fiction Pick:
The Creation: An Appeal to Save Life on Earth by E.O. Wilson
New to me only (but I loved them all the same):
The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro
A Big Storm Knocked It Over by Laurie Colwin
Wonder When You’ll Miss Me by Amanda Davis
Collected Stories by Grace Paley
Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri
Our Favourite CD was “Let’s Get Out of this Country” by Camera Obscura and we also liked “Sam’s Town” by The Killers
Our Favourite movie was Little Miss Sunshine
Our Favourite Holiday destination was Prince Edward County.
It’s been a very good year. And all the best for 2007!
December 20, 2006
From here and there
The Penelopiad is being remade for the stage. And though it happened awhile back, John Steffler is Canada’s new poet laureate (and I liked his novel.)
In terms of non-fiction, I’m reading uTOpia at the moment, which is interesting in parts, but terribly obnoxious in others (one person wrote an essay about how he was connected to each of the forces of Toronto’s cultural renaissance [ie someone was his second cousin, though they’d only become acquainted recently, and he used to go to parties at so and so’s house, etc etc] which I think was supposed to have a point beyond that but I missed it).
The big news is that Bronwyn’s back in town, and showers galore are the theme of the holidays. As matron of honour, I have organized a fete for Saturday afternoon, but then I can’t say anything more because it’s a surprise. Just that it’s bookish. We’re keeping holiday gatherings to a minimum, as I’ve got a lot of work to do these days. Tomorrow night, however, I am learning how to make risotto, which is exciting. We’re getting to the end of the Christmas baking, like the gluttons we are. I realized I made it a week earlier this year, which probably wasn’t the best idea.
December 19, 2006
Holden
I’m now reading the much-hyped, well-loved and well-hated Special Topics in Calamity Physics by Marisha Pessl. Almost two hundred pages in, I’m enjoying how it goes, but more about that later. For the moment, I wish to discuss Holden Caulfield, however. And how most modern characters described as “a modern day Holden Caulfield” are so blatantly not.
In particular, I’m thinking about Pessl’s main character, and also about Lee from Curtis Sittenfeld’s Prep. And I am trying to figure out why I find these characters so childish, why these books read like YA Fiction when Holden Caulfield never really did. I’ve determined it’s about perspective. These modern protagonists are all-knowing, and even when they screw up, the screw-up is always in retrospect. At some point, their narratives reveal that they get over adolescence. Holden Caulfield’s never did. Catcher in the Rye is so planted in his head in a way that is absolutely alarming, and that’s what interesting about the book, not necessarily his engagement with the world. Holden never tells us anything that Holden wouldn’t have told us. He exists as himself, and as not as a quirky, clever set of eyes through which to see the world. Herein lies the difference, I think.
When I first read Catcher in the Rye, I was thirteen years old and thought that Holden was cool. Encountering him again ten years later, my heart hurt for this deeply broken boy I’d once had a crush on. The change in his character made this a completely different book each time, and I don’t know that I’d think the same about the modern Holdens. I consider YA fiction fine in itself, but it’s not compelling to me as literature if it’s just the same book twice.
