December 22nd, 2011
Liking: Not Just for Facebook
While I’ve been completely dug under with horrible work, some things I wrote early, before the weight of the world crushed me, have been going up online. Good to remember my more positive days!!
A book I like, on the Advent Book Elf: And Also Sharks by Jessica Westhead
A journal I like, on The Literary Type blog: The New Quarterly
A website I like likes me back: Salty Ink’s Top 10 Canadian Books of Short Fiction
An artist I like: Marc Chagall and the Russian Avant Garde. Ok, that’s not online, but if you have a chance to see the exhibit at the Art Gallery of Ontario, go. So good, so joyful.
Also, hey, it’s Hanukkah, and almost Christmas, and the weather is nice. I still have so much to do but I think I can be the light (candles? twinkle lights?) at the end of the tunnel, and it’s sparkly.
December 19th, 2011
The Year in Books
I read a lot, and I never feel like I’m reading enough. Everyone is always talking about some book I’ve never heard of, or worse, some book I’ve heard of a thousand times and want to read but haven’t gotten to yet. I am perpetually behind in my periodicals, searching for the next book-club book, seeing reviews of stuff I need to pick up, attending launches and buying those books, being overwhelmed when my library holds finally come in, and then cruising past a “new releases” table at the library or bookstore and going, “Hey, what’s this?”
I would not, of course, have it any other way. I’ve read more this year than ever before (since I started keeping track in 2006) but still not nearly enough. Lots of bloggers run reading stats just to see, and I never have but it looks like fun, so I did it this year, just for those I read cover-to-cover only; I don’t count it if I skim or flip or don’t finish.
I categorized by genre (anthologies, novels, non-fiction, short stories, YA, graphic, and poetry, and then again by author genre. I don’t know why I picked these categories, except that they seemed obvious. I had meant to do national categories as well, but I realized I don’t know where all my authors are from, some move around, and I actually don’t care.
I’m not posting the math because I couldn’t actually make the two sets of numbers total the same, which is embarrassing but not worth doing all the math a third time to see what the problem is. I would approximately 85 books, about half of those prose fiction. Surprises? Yeah, that the poetry and graphic novel numbers were so lame (guess I know what my reading resolutions will be), that gender parity is perfect (the book I have in hand is by a dude, so I guess the scales could tip). On the other hand, I am not surprised that the YA number is low; I respect the genre but I rarely enjoy it, and I don’t think I’m going to resolve to read more, at least not this year. The non-fiction number is respectable but it’s also kind of a lie, containing narrative non-fic like *Black Like Me* in the same category as wedding planning guides (yes, I read them cover-to-cover; I can’t help it).
This was a curious exercise, and it proves some blind spots (not least of which are my math). I might try to reflect on the year more qualitatively in my next post–ie., a best-books-this-year post. The quantitative method doesn’t seem to be doing to much for me.
December 17th, 2011
Rose-coloured Reviews *Songs for the Missing* by Stewart O’Nan
I have been working in publishing for way too long not to read all the extra book bits no one cares about. Card page, acknowledgements, note about the type, copyright page–I’m on it. And that page of quotations from reviews some poor intern who hasn’t read the book cobbled together (that was me, once)–that too, though since this only happens once I’ve purchased it, there’s no point.
In fact, it can be problematic to sit down with a brand new reading project and start with 7 or 8 contextless statements on it’s extreme brilliance. Songs for the Missing by Stewart O’Nan was an extremely well-reviewed book and had 26 such statements, and I daresay I would’ve like it better had I not had my expectations overwrought by promises such as “As we read, we, too, are changed, and in ways we cannot even understand.” (San Francisco Chronicle) or “O’Nan is on a kind of mission to restore a simple, true sense of humantiy to the novel” (The New York Times Book Review)
After getting about halfway through the book, I actually followed up and read the whole of some of those reviews, and found that the excerpts were largely faithful to the wholes; this book is pretty universally adored. So at this point I just feel stupid for not really liking it all that much.
I’m not immune to the achievement of this novel. It’s about a family and a community suffering, waiting, and mourning when 17-year-old Kim Larsen goes missing. I understood that the author loved his characters and wished for a happier story than he could write for them–always a stunner to see that kind of restraint in writing. And the book felt very true: O’Nan never stooped to melodrama, never exaggerated or sugar-coated.
However: I never felt I knew the characters; even when I was terribly sad for them, it was more the many left-behind of the missing that they *represented* that I was sad for. Kim’s parents, Ed and Fran, never seemed to come alive for me, and her friends and boyfriend were little more than teenaged *types*.
I think the problem might have been one of ambition–there are six points of view in this novel, and it covers more than three years, so I never really felt that anything had been portrayed with the sort of depth I wanted.
But let’s back up and work through the book as a whole. The chapters are narrated in third-person-limited. That first one is from Kim’s perspective. It’s only after you read the whole of the book and come back that you realize how gorgeous this opening is, how perfect and elegaic it is, the only part I thought that was consciously poetic, without ever seeming to be. Kim’s viewpoint seemed honest, irreverent and flip as a person who doesn’t know she’s about to disappear. I completely got her character, though I didn’t necessarily like her.
And then she does disappear, from the narrative and from the world. I only picked up halfway through the book that the characters only got a narrative viewpoint when they were in the small town of Kingsville where it was set, or planning to go there imminently. It’s not giving too much away to say that, after the first chapter, Kim isn’t in Kingsville anymore, so we don’t get her POV.
The other points of view that take over after are Kim’s mom, dad, sister, best friend, and boyfriend. I thought it was telling that a number of reviews mentions that the point of view of *two* of Kim’s friends were used, but they weren’t: Nina gets a POV, Elise doesn’t, but the characters appear interchangeable until quite late in the story so it is very hard to keep it straight.
The pace of the novel is gut-wrenchingly slow, because the pace of a missing person’s investigation is, too, or at least feels that way to those waiting. I was bored, but I was pretty sure I was supposed to be bored; it was accurate for the situation being described.
Some of the various blurbage on the book described it as a kind of procedural, and not that I’ve read many of those but I don’t think it is. Big swaths of the investigation are ignored because the family isn’t actually privy to what goes on; the police/family relationship isn’t good. Again, that felt accurate if the book is a kind of procedural of how to be the family of the missing, which includes a lot of grace under condescension and forced ignorance.
There were some weird errors that I caught–Old Navy isn’t an expensive store and the Killers aren’t a British band. That made me worry about the facts I didn’t know enough to catch errors in, like…what the police did and when, and what the Larsens’ legal options were. The errors I mention here are trivial, but they were important in that they made me trust the narrative less, and thus distance myself from it–never a good thing.
As well, particularly at the beginning and the end, there were lots of things going on that the reader is never fully aware of even though the family is, and we certainly don’t know the exact procedures of the officials involved, even when our various narrators are well-involved. The narrative flits through time, and I often would’ve liked more detail about, say, Fran’s community organizing, but the story skips to focus on flirtations between Kim’s old friends.
This review is probably sadly revealing of my own goals as a writer. I like to live with my characters in what feels like real time–the framing of the story is the decision to write about it, and I don’t like the reader to feel her chin being nudged, “Look at this, no, *this,* this is what’s important and the rest doesn’t matter.” O’Nan is not embarrassed to nudge, to elide and emphasize what he sees as important.
So I never understood why the drug connection Kim and her friends had couldn’t be properly explained; the stigma lingers until the last page but I never figured out exactly what they did. For a while this is a secret so people are afraid to discuss openly, but after everyone knows, it’s still kept from the reader. Or it’s possible I’m just obtuse. Ditto the amount of obsessive detail about Ed’s readying of the first house he represents after he returns to work as a realtor following Kim’s disappearance. This section is so detailed that I was expecting him to find Kim’s body in the house’s basement, or something equally important. But there’s no obvious reason for these pages of emphasis–it drifts away and you don’t even find out what the house sells for, or if it sells at all. Very strange.
The ending is an anticlimax for both characters and readers as it would pretty nearly have to be, realistically, given all that has and hasn’t happened previously. O’Nan handles it with quiet aplomb–he doesn’t leave us quite without hope, but to the last, he doesn’t give us anything undeserved either. *Songs for the Missing* wasn’t really the book I wanted it to be, but nor was the reading of it in any way wasted time.
This was the 11th book in my To Be Read Challenge. One more to go before the end of the year!
December 15th, 2011
The Annual Christmas Conversation
I meet new people every year, and thus every December I get to have this strange conversation about my Christmas feelings . Sometimes I have to have it multiple years with the same person, as my confusing viewpoint is hard to remember. Perhaps I’ll just immortalize this in the blog, and then send people the link when they ask…
Ok, I won’t really do that, as people mean well and I am something of a special case–folks are right to be confused. Let me take you through it step by step:
1. I am Jewish.
2. I love Christmas.
3. I do not believe that Jesus is the Messiah.
4. I do believe in the brotherhood and sisterhood of humanity.
5. I like tinsel, cookies, carols, indoor trees, and time off work.
6. I attend Christmas parties, concerts, and other festivities, and enjoy them very much.
7. I do not represent anyone other than myself and, somewhat, my weird family. No one should use me as example when they are saying it’s ok to insist that non-Christian folks participate in Christmas festivities because, “Christmas is for everyone!” or “It’s really a secular holiday now.” It actually isn’t secular unless someone (like me) chooses to celebrate it in that way.
8. I am a secular Jew. Religious Jews–and religious other sorts of people–would likely have a much different reaction to Christmas stuff than I would. Or maybe not. The only way to know how anyone feels about anything is to ask that person specifically.
9. I am respectful of all cultures, including Christianity. I understand how devout Christians might find it off-putting if I told them I was taking an interest in their holy day merely for the music, cookies, tinsel, and hugs. I try to avoid invitations to truly religious occasions, even though they often have the best singing. I will not be hurt if I am not included.
10. I appreciate respect in return. I don’t do a lot of traditionally Jewish things, but no one gets to decide that I’m “not really Jewish” on my behalf.
11. Hanukkah is a pretty awesome holiday, but it is not a Christmas equivalent. It’s relatively minor in religious importance, though it’s been elevated in cultural significance due to closeness to Christmas on the calandar.
12. It’s fine to wish Jews Happy Hanukkah, but it’s also fine not to if you don’t know when it is (hint: it’s on the lunar calandar, so not the same dates every year) or what it celebrates (see Wikipedia link above). If you want to ask me about Hanukkah feel free, but you don’t have to.
13. One reason I love Hanukkah because it’s one of the only instances of a double “k” that I know of, and I think it looks neat.
14. Hanukkah tinsel exists, but it is really hard to find.
15. Sometimes I wear tinsel in my hair.
So…does that clear everything up?
December 9th, 2011
The past few days
In the past few days, my last two posts for the National Post’s book blog, The Afterword, have gone up: from Wednesday, Because there is no real and from Thursday, Oh my god, my friend is a writer–what do I do?. It was very fun writing for the Afterword, but I am happy to be back in my blog-home, without the pressure to post every day!
What else has happened recently? I went to a nice party, ate some really good but odd toffee, had a tough time catching a #7 southbound bus, and discovered that ligers are real! Did you think Napolean Dynamite made them up?? Me too! But no, really, there are actually ligers in the world. Also, tigons, or possibly tiglons. The information is a little unclear, mainly because most of the folks who have a big interest in this topic are crazy, but anyway, I just thought it was kinda neat. As if I was just sitting around chatting with friends and found out they have a gryphon in a zoo in upstate New York.
December 6th, 2011
Blog Promiscuity Continues
So today is day #2 of my affair with the National Post’s book blog, and on it I wrote a piece entitled Editors: Scourge of the Earth or Cheap Psychotherapists?”, which I hope you’ll find amusing and/or edifying.
I also had a one-night stand with The Story Prize blog, which resulted in this piece on finding the right point of view for a story.
I hope you can forgive me for all this blog debauchery–I promise to be back to the straight and narrow with Rose-coloured next week!
December 5th, 2011
Blog affair with the Afterword
You know how infidelity reveals itself–you get no action for ages and when you do it’s quick and perfunctory. And then, blammo, you realize that all your love and attention is going to someone else. Cheater!
Yes, it’s true, I’ve been blogging elsewhere and I wish I could say I’m sorry, but it’s been great! I’ll be pontificating all week long at the National Post’s book blog, The Afterword–here’s today’s post.
I’ll put the links here if you want to check it out. And I’ll be back full-bore on Rose-coloured by the weekend. Which if you keep going with the above metaphor, is sorta twisted. So let’s not.
November 30th, 2011
Tomorrow night
I am pretty jazzed about the reading I’m doing tomorrow night, because my co-reader is the marvellous Anne Perdue, author of I’m a Registered Nurse Not a Whore, a book many probably read for the title, but few were likely to be disappointed. It’s an amazing collection. Our reading will be at the Lillian H. Smith library on College Street, one of the nicest libraries in Toronto. It’s also really close to my favourite Chinese restaurant, which I will point you towards if you like. You really can’t lose.
Can’t make the reading, but still craving more of my thoughts? Well, that’s a dubious pursuit, but I did participate in Shaun Smith’s Fiction Craft Discussion on Dialogue this month, so you could check that out.
In other news…today I opened a can of chickpeas to make my lunch and the kitten went *insane*. The can is the same size/shape as his catfood can, and apparently he thought I was hogging all the catfood for myself and not sharing. That he would think so little of me really hurt my feelings, which tells you a bit about how tired I am. Also, today it snowed, and I betcha that won’t be the last of it.
November 27th, 2011
Things Happening
So I went out west to do a bunch of readings and had an amazing time–but I also was in 4 timezones in 4 days, and am now very tired. So this recap will be brief–but with links elsewhere, and a few pictures.
Before I left, the November Quill and Quire went online, including that review of *The Big Dream*. Also the December print edition of Q&Q came out, and if you should read it you might see a gang interview on the short story with me, Jessica Westhead, D. W. Wilson, Alexander MacLeod, and Michael Christie. You should read that interview, because it’s definitely interesting, but you should also take a look at the picture of us (sadly minus the east-coast dwelling Mr. MacLeod) looking confused and friendly, as your garden variety short-story writer often does. (Bonus: there’s an extra picture in the table of contents).
Then on Sunday the Winnipeg Free Press ran a short interview with me by Ariel Gordon, in advance of my appearance there with Ray Robertson on Thursday. But before that, Calgary and Vancouver. Here are some highlights:
Ray reading from his essay collection "Why Not?" at Pages on Kensington in Calgary.
A veritable fiesta of breakfast cereal at my hosts' home in Calgary.
Gorgeous weather in Vancouver.
Me, baffled in Vancouver because I couldn't find the Ocean--where are you, Ocean?
Cathy Stonehouse reading at the Incite series in Vancouver.
Post-reading socializing with awesome friends in Winnipeg.
And home again, home again, jiggety-jig (what is that line from, anyway?)
November 20th, 2011
Readings this week
Lots of book stuff going on this week, in some places I’m not usually in. So perhaps you’d like to join me…
Tuesday November 22, Calgary, Ray Robertson and I will be reading at Pages on Kensington
Wednesday, November 23, Vancouver, Ray, Cathy Stonehouse and I will be reading at the Vancouver Public Library as part of the Incite reading series
Also on Wednesday, Waterloo, you could attend The New Quarterly’s 30th birthday party, with readings, music, wine, and awesomeness. I won’t physically be there, sadly, due to the aforementioned Vancouver appointment. But I will be in spirit, my books (signed!) will be there as part of the silent auction, and I sent a few paragraphs that might get read if there’s a lull in the evening. I think of it as similar to sending a telegram to be read at a wedding when one can’t be there, and truly this is a similar happy occasion.
Thursday, November 24, Winnipeg, Ray and I read at McNally Robinson’s Grant Park.
And then a probably very tired and happy Rebecca goes home, to conquer the mountain of work that will have built up in her absence, and hug her little kitten. It promises to be a very good week.
