April 28, 2006

Luck

I’m now reading Luck by Joan Barfoot, which is absolutely good and I recommend it. The narrative voice is quite an extraordinary achievement, the most sarcastic and amusing fly on the wall that I’ve ever come across. And this is significant, because I heard Joan Barfoot read from this book in January. She started with the first chapter, and so of course when I started the book, her voice came back to me. And throughout the book, this marvelous narrator has been speaking in that voice and it’s sort of eerie to hear it in my head. And so anyway, I’ve been pondering lately the attraction of readings at all. I do believe that reading is an ideally solitary pursuit and that public readings are part of a recent drive to institutionalize reading. Which isn’t necessarily bad, but is admittedly strange. But then again you get an author whispering in your ear after the fact, and there’s something a bit delicious about that.

April 26, 2006

We need to talk about…

Yea! My essay is finished and will be printed tonight and handed in tomorrow. And then there will be four homework free months ahead, to read, and write, and hang out with Stuart. We are celebrating by going to the Library Bar at the Royal York Friday for posh martinis. I am looking forward to this weekend. What else, lots of Toronto fun, food and adventure on account of Stuart’s mum visit. We went to the zoo on Friday and it was wonderful. I liked the butterfly house, and a gorilla who climbed right up to the viewing window, sat down and stared right into my eyes. It was an incredibly moment, and a bit frightening, but quite profound. And then the gorilla defecated, which sort of put a stop to all that but still. I also liked the flamingos.

I am now reading The Female of the Species by Lionel Shriver, who wrote We Need to Talk About Kevin, which you might know was the best book I read in 2005. The Female of the Species is Shriver’s first book (I think) and like all her books before Kevin, not altogether successful. It started slow, and I resisted it for a chapter or two. But now I am enveloped and can’t wait to get to the end. I also read For the Time Being by Annie Dillard, which exists more to be read than to be explained. But what she does with form is really quite incredible, and it’s chock-a-block with stuff that should be known. The Jewish mysticism threw me a little bit, but then again it usually does.

My friend Sarah is off on her Siberian Adventure. The website hasn’t been updated for a few days, and according to it, they haven’t left yet. How does one update a blog from the Trans-Siberian Railroad? They are travelling by land from Japan to London, and I can’t wait to travel along as a vicariate. In other news, as you probably know, Jane Jacobs has died, which means it’s about time I read The Death and Life of America’s Great Cities– and so I will. Camilla Gibb takes the Trillium Prize for Sweetness in the Belly, which just might be my favourite book of 2006. The Spears/Federlines are pregnant again, well according to US, but it will be exciting for them to have another child around the house to neglect. Curtis Sittenfeld didn’t make the Orange Prize shortlist, thank goodness. I’m awfully fond of The Accidental by Ali Smith, but I like Hilary Mantel and Zadie S. too. Exciting!

Am disturbed by Flight 93. I saw the preview in the theatre a few weeks back, and it was so profoundly upsetting. I can’t imagine sitting through the whole film. And I disagree with the woman whose daughter died on the flight that “The public needs to know, they need to remember and know what the families have gone through”. I am sorry, but I don’t think they do. To many people this film might exist as a memorial of sorts, celluloid proof the people they loved died for a reason, but there is something terribly self-indulgent about that. A film like this exploits our society’s preoccupation with outward acts of mourning and our yearning for communal experience and connection. But it is such a shallow connection. And no amount of reenactment will really allow us to comprehend what happened that day; only distance can possibly provide for that, and some perspective.

April 24, 2006

Soon..

I will be finished writing papers. And then I will think again. Until then, then.

April 20, 2006

That Hollywood Girl

Sometimes, truly remarkable days come along and just douse one in blessings.

First, my story “Slush Puppy” won First Prize in the Hart House Review Literary Contest! You can pick up a copy of the Hart House Review at Hart House. It’s a beautiful issue.

Second, I went to my new job this morning just for an informal session and things there are more wonderful than I ever imagined. I feel incredibly fortunate to have got this position. It’s going to be a great way to spend the summer.

Third, even though my new job requires relatively informal attire, I went shopping today and spend about $300 on summer clothes and such. Specifying the amount is tacky I realise, and it might not seem like much to some, but if you know how little Stu and I have been living off of for the past year, you will understand why blowing $300 was such a pleasure.

And fourth, well, pictures speak louder than words. Here is a photo of a dream come true.

Oh, and welcome welcome summer!

April 19, 2006

Am I part of The Cure, or am I part of The Police?

Today I have devoted to essay writing. Which means that I have written four sentences, eaten all my mini-chocolates in my Cadbury Heroes Eggs, investigated Gail Porter’s hairloss online, stared longingly out the window, brewed a pot of tea, eaten more chocolate, felt fat, turned on the radio and turned it off, brewed more tea, read four pages of a book, had lunch, read Heat Magazine, scoured the internet re Tom Cruise and Katie’s Holmes’s “Suri”, checked blogs for updates, laid on my bed, gotten up, contemplated bulimia, decided against it, and went to check if the post had come. It had.

Today I received my second installment of the Kerry and Bronwyn Postal Exchange. Bronwyn broke the rules with the text-based treat. It’s hardly letter sized, and indeed was sent as a package. Bronwyn sent me a book called Lancashire: Where Women Die of Love, which is so wonderfully odd, though I can assure you that it wasn’t love that killed me during the time that I lived there.

I am so bored. If I stamp my feet and shout, maybe Stuart will come home. He’s at the top of the CN Tower right now. Do you think he will hear me?

April 19, 2006

Prep Afterwords

I read Prep, in a day and a bit because times a wasting. It’s not chick lit. But it’s not really lit either. If anything, it’s really boring and goes on for 400 pages as such. I guess if one has literary aspirations, I would encourage them not to write from a fourteen year old’s point of view. Because otherwise, they feel the need to overcompensate by having the narrator’s adult-self confusingly just start to commentate out of the blue, or have much of the story take place in English classes so several literary themes could be checked. I thought maybe it was just me, because I’m not a fan of YA fiction anymore, but according to amazon reviews, the kids don’t like Prep much either. Perhaps Prep’s biggest letdown was the inconsistency of the narrative voice; was she an adult reflecting on her youth, was she an unreliable narrator who thought she knew it all, was she a young wise cracking Holden Caulfield, was she wise beyond her years? I felt like perhaps SIttenfeld wasn’t sure, because Lee Fiora was a bit of all of that, which was a bit confusing. Also, there was no plot. Things happen, but not for motivating purposes. I sort of wanted her to drop out after sophomore year, just so the book would be over. There was no revelation at the end. And I didn’t come away from the book having learned anything new. Perhaps it’s because it’s centred on high school students- I don’t actually consider high school that defining. It’s formative, but in high school everybody is sort of an idiot, everybody is melodramatic. Its what happens next that really matters. There were some wonderful bits in Prep. Some of the writing was really excellent, but got lost on the density of the text. Lee’s relationship with her parents was poignantly illustrated, and really heartbreaking at times. I was intrigued by some of the stories of the adult secondary characters in Prep, who were more interesting than the teenagers, I thought. And some of the themes were fascinating but there were just too many of them. And perhaps my assessment of Sittenfeld’s book is a bit harsh, but her review of Melissa Bank’s book was so incredibly scathing, and having read Prep I’m not sure exactly where Sittenfeld got off doing that.

April 17, 2006

Prep

Today Prep by Curtis Sittenfeld arrived at the library. I’m excited to read it. Sittenfeld’s provocative review of Melissa Bank’s The Wonder Spot incited a bit of controversy last year. In the review, Sittenfeld posited that “To suggest that another woman’s ostensibly literary novel is chick lit feels catty, not unlike calling another woman a slut”, but of course she did it anyway. Writer Jennifer Weiner suggested that perhaps Sittenfeld’s insecurities about the reception of her own novel were the motivation behind her name calling. And indeed, Curtis Sittenfeld did seem to be kicking and screaming about the “chick lit” label. In every interview I read, every review of the book, Sittenfeld was commenting upon Prep’s “darkness”, that it was “not a beach read”, “too dark for chick lit”, in spite of the pink-accessory-adorned cover. I do understand Sittenfeld’s pain of course; that pink belt must have come on like a punch in the gut. But it seemed like that lady did protest a bit too much. And so now I’ve got the book in hand and will determine for myself whether it’s “chick lit” or not. All for the sake of scholarship. I’ve got one paper down and one more to go. Now reading The Photograph by the ever-wonderful Penelope Lively. Oh, and good news in tax return land. So we’re off to England in September! Moreover, we’ve got a little England heading our way tomorrow in the form of Stuart’s mum!

April 16, 2006

Clockal Embellishments

Pleasant things I saw tonight as I bicycled to the library: the children next door having an Easter Egg hunt, two little girls in dresses wearing rabbit ears, daffodils, and a couple on a tandem bike. Oh, and the sunshine.

Muriel Spark has died. Like Maud Newton, I’ve only read The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie and The Finishing School, but will be taking up The Comforters upon recommendation.

Now reading An Audience of Chairs by Joan Clark. It’s pretty wonderful. And my 51st book of the year.

April 14, 2006

I get a visit from a midge

Zoe Williams quite rightly on misogynistic slang. Although she admits that “It is incredibly unfashionable to object to language and ideas that denigrate women. I’m almost embarrassed; I feel like I’ve left the house wearing something fluorescent.” The marketability of anti-feminism is really quite phenomenal. Incredibly, the Environment Minister censors an Environment Canada scientist from talking about his novel on climate change- though perhaps the problem was his attempt to use his official position to market a work of fiction, but it’s disturbing all the same.

And I must get back to my essay, but first a story. I love it when school floods over into real life. Last night I was writing my paragraph about Annie Dillard’s affinity with insects, and the various way she connects them to writers in The Writing Life. And then suddenly, a tiny insect landed on my book. Something midge-like, as if it had just materialized from Tinker Creek. This is odd, as I really haven’t seen an insect anywhere for about six months. I greeted it familiarly, and watched it flap its wings for a while. There was no “Yeah, flap flap, isn’t it?” but still, for an instant, there was indeed “a glimmer of companionship”. And then it flew away. And perhaps the point of this after all is that we need new window screens, but I am glad it happened all the same.

Now for Easter Weekend. For a secular fundamentalist such as myself, Easter Weekend involves chocolate (but not chocolate bunnies if I can help it, because of Miffy) and visits with family. And we’ve got plenty of family coming round in the next few days- in-laws and… outlaws (?)

And please, run, don’t walk, down to your local book dispenser and pick up Mean Boy by Lynn Coady. If you’ve ever taken a creative writing class, you will especially find particularly hilarious. It’s hilarious and a bit heartwrenching. And who doesn’t like having their heart wrenched?

And now back to the feral nature of the written word.

April 12, 2006

News

On a new book by the “morally flexible” Bonnie Fuller (who I sort of feel like I grew up with, even though she’s 49).On politicians who write. The youngest Pointer Sister has died, which is sad, but I’m not sure why it’s front page news. Sock Monkey arrives in China. Poetry in motion. And bizarrely, movies that smell.