Tell-Tale Details

-->

Chatelaine magazine uses the following list of questions for its "Telling Details" sidebar in "Ms. Chatelaine" profiles. I thought it might be interesting to try answering the questions myself ... so ... here goes ...

MY PROUDEST MOMENT WAS ...

Crossing the stage at my doctoral convocation

I DEFINE DOWNTIME AS ...

Those glorious, fleeting minutes when I can convince myself I have nothing urgent to do and am not accountable to anyone else

I WAKE UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT THINKING ABOUT ...

Everything I haven't done yet

MY FAVOURITE MOMENT OF THE DAY IS ...

The period between leaving my office and settling down for the evening's work

THE BIGGEST MISTAKE I EVER MADE WAS ...

Not renting the Miata for a trip to the West Coast in the early 1990s

I WISH I HAD MORE TIME FOR ...

Visiting with friends. Reading. Yoga.

MY FAVOURITE QUOT[ATION] IS ...

"All of us are better when we're loved." — Alistair MacLeod

I WISH I WERE BETTER AT ...

So many things! Piano playing. Various athletic endeavours. Time management.

MY PERFECT DAY WOULD BE ...

Sunny and hot — probably in July — and would involve the people I love best in the world.

I'M CURRENTLY READING ...

Last Night in Twisted River by John Irving

Bears Without Fear by Kevin Van Tighem

About That Night by Norah McClintock

So ... are you willing to share your telling details?

Ways in which the boat is trying to kill you

As B, C, and I began our formal boating course work, I realized that a
big part of my anxiety about sailing -- apart from the newness of
being on a boat itself -- stems from the many, many warnings in our
course books about all the dangers and risks involved in living on a
boat. B reasonably pointed out that many of the same risks and dangers
exist with RVs and cars. Still, I believe there is some
anxiety-relieving value in enumerating all the ways in which the boat
is trying to kill you. Thus, this list:

1. Hypothermia from falling in water

2. Hypothermia from being on deck without sufficient layers (this one
is a real risk, even in summer!)

3. Propane explosion

4. Accumulation of explosive gases associated with head

5. Accumulation of explosive gases in engine locker and bilges

6. Carbon monoxide from motor while motoring

7. Carbon monoxide accumulation in salon due to winds blowing exhaust into cabin

8. Crushing you against the dock if you fall in while docking

9. Driving over you while you are being rescued (from the water, if
hypothermia didn't get you first)

And there are probably more that I just can't think of right now. That
said, if you're reading this, you can feel assured that the boat
hasn't got me ... so far.

PS: So ... in the realm of mousies etc., I really do have good intentions for this blog. This post was originally composed Monday, 16 June; regrettably there was little internet out there in the coastal Pacific.
 

End of Week One

Greetings from Westview, BC. We are aboard the Shearwater, a 33-foot sail boat, en route to the Broughton Archipelago, by way of Port McNeill and Malcolm Island. At last I may visit the much-storied Sointula, which in some twisted way is the starting point of all this sailing. Hurrah!

It's been a variable week. Very few truly warm days yet I have a sunburned face. Lots and lots of rain, so good thing I have my rain gear. I have been sleeping more than usual, which is not to say I've been sleeping through the night but is to say I haven't been bouncing out of the berth at the first glimmer of sunrise. Days are generally leisurely. Sailing still tries hard to break my head. Those of us not to the manner born just can't get it as quick, I guess. (Wow! Who knew there's such a debate whether it's "manner" or "manor"? As a Marxist, I should prefer the latter, apparently, but the scholarly opinion seems to prefer the former. Hmm.)

Tonight we met many of the flotilla participants. An interesting group. Anne and Laurence, the trip leaders, seem like lovely people. And they're committed to making sure none of us ends up dead. Always a plus. Given the number of ways in which the boat is trying to kill us, I'm glad we have them  to follow.

Vancouver was gorgeous, as always. Since leaving False Creek we've seen many herons and eagles and other assorted birds, but no large mammals. Except seals: not sure whether they count as "large" mammals. Keep imagining orcas and shore-hugging grizzlies for me, please. As we go further north and into more remote areas, I will grow more hopeful.

That's all for now. Now that I know I can blog from my phone (despite serious doubts about my data plan) I will try to uphold my earlier pledge to write more often. Well, at least more often than once every six months.

Et c'est  tout! (Or "c'est yogourt", according to autocorrect. Thhhhhhhth!)

The promise of more in the future

I have been a terrible blogger for the last year or two. For a variety of "sundry weighty reasons" I believe I have nothing to say.

I will try to change that over the next three months. For a start, here's a placeholder quotation:

It is not from space that I must seek my dignity, but from the government of my thought. I shall have no more if I possess worlds. By space the universe encompasses and swallows me up like an atom; by thought I comprehend the world.

More to follow...

The vault of lost lyrics, chapter 73

A perfect song for lazy summer afternoons.

**

"Dark Horse" (as recorded by Amanda Marshall)

Indian summer, Abeline,

You were new in town, I was nineteen

And the sparks flew

They called us crazy behind our backs

Romantic fools

We just let them laugh

Because we knew

It may be a long shot

We may get lonely down the line

Love knows no reason

And I won't let 'em make up my mind

My money's riding on this dark horse, baby

My heart is saying it's the lucky one

And its true colour's gonna shine through someday

If we let this, let this dark horse run

Stars are brighter in a desert sky

No need to wonder or justify

Where this will lead

I wear your locket, our picture's inside

Inscription says, "The joy's in the ride"

And I believe

Something so sacred

Is something worth this kind of fight

'Cause love knows no patience

You can't please everyone all the time

My money's riding on this dark horse, baby

My heart is saying it's the lucky one

And its true colour's gonna shine through someday

If we let this, let this dark horse run

So rare, so sweet

Together baby, I know

We can be free

My money's riding on this dark horse, baby

My heart is saying it's the lucky one

And its true colour's gonna shine through someday

If we let this, let this dark horse run

Indian summer, Abeline,

You were new in town, I was nineteen ...

Young little girls

As an editor, there are many, many things I'd like to change about the way English speakers and writers use language. As a woman, there are many, many more. As a feminist editor, I would be content if I could bring about a more mindful use of the phrases little girl and young girl in today's writers and speakers.

Leaving aside questions of gender and trans-sexual identification, a girl, legally defined, is a female person under the age of majority — in Canada, eighteen. A female infant is a baby girl, or a girl baby.

In journalistic writing and fiction, I increasingly see the term little girl or young girl applied to girls in their teens and even women in their early twenties. As a feminist, I find this usage troubling, and I'm working with the authors I edit to stop it.

For me, a little girl is a girl who is no longer an infant and who has not yet started school. After that, a girl is a girl; she might be described as a young girl. Once she hits her teens, she's a teenage girl or a young woman (as many feminists will assert). But a teenager is not a little girl (affection-laden sobriquets notwithstanding).

Men may call teenage girls, young women, and women over eighteen little girls and/or young girls for a number of reasons. In our culture, however, I think we should consider the current pressures on men to take up space — socially, physically, economically — and on women NOT to take up space. Being diminished as little suggests a young woman is cute, inoffensive, and insignificant. (Think of the language that surround girls and women who threaten boys and men; think of how language is used to discredit, undercut, and devalue these girls and women.) And I think there's just something dangerous about the idea of a "young" girl.

So, please think before you describe a person as a little girl or a young girl. If she's five years old, then go ahead. Otherwise, think again.

Year-End Tallies

Happy 2014! I hope the arrival of a new year marks health and happiness for all of us.

As I, and many of you, have done for the last few years, below I've compiled information about the books and music I consumed in the year that was.

Thirty Most Played Songs in 2013:

Mother Mother, "Bit by Bit"

Diddy with Dirty Money, "Hello Good Morning"

Dead or Alive, "Brand New Lover" (original single mix)

Deadmau5 featuring Gerard Way, "Professional Griefers"

Maroon 5, "Moves Like Jagger"

Nina Simone, "Take Care of Business" (Pilooski Remix)

Amanda Palmer, "Map of Tasmania" (featuring The Young Punx)

Azar Swan, "In My Mouth"

Muse, "Madness"

Deadmau5, "Raise Your Weapon"

Nightwish, "End of All Hope"

Firebeatz and Schella, "Dear New York"

Harlequin, "I Did It for Love"

ABBA, "Take A Chance On Me"

Honeymoon Suite, "Feel It Again"

Kate Bush, "Be Kind To My Mistakes"

Christina Aguilera featuring Redman, "Dirrty"

Jimmy Rankin, "We'll Carry On (Prelude)"

ABBA, "Summer Night City"

Dieselboy and Bare, "Beyond Thunderdome"

Exile, "Kiss You All Over"

Jenson Interceptor, "Tiny Thing"

Kim Wilde, "You Keep Me Hangin' On"

Lady Gaga, "Judas"

Linda Ronstadt, "How Do I Make You"

Seals and Croft, "Get Closer"

Siouxsie and The Banshees, "This Wheel's On Fire"

Tears for Fears, "Mad World"

Emmelie de Forest, "Only Teardrops"

Prince, "I Wonder U"

I listed thirty songs rather than twenty-five because several of the songs at the bottom of the list were tied. Once again, this year's list reflects a great deal of comfort listening (ABBA, Harlequin, Jenson Interceptor, Seals and Croft, etc.), but happily there are also some new discoveries. While my listening is perhaps less ambitious than it was when I was in my teens and twenties, I do try to maintain some currency with popular music — recognizing that the Web and digital music sites make doing so much more difficult than it used to be. There is simply SO MUCH music in the world to hear!

According to iTunes' somewhat imperfect counting system, as of today I have exactly 11,900 songs in my library. Since last January, I listened to about seventy percent of those songs at least once. Having iTunes on my laptop has really changed the way I listen to music. I now have to make a point of listening to an album as an album, rather than as a collection of random songs. I create Genius playlists almost daily, reflecting the mood I'm in or the music I want to work to, and I tend to listen to personally crafted playlists on my way to and from work. Statistically, this style of listening means that I have a handful of songs I've listened to at least twenty times, a substantial number of songs I've played five to fifteen times, and a large number of songs I've played once or twice. Still, it is always a joy to hear something I've ignored for months when it turns up in random play.

New features on the version of iTunes I've just upgraded to may affect my listening again this year. Since I've just reset my play counts to zero again, I guess we'll see in another 365 days.

Books Read in 2013: 165

Rather than list all 165 books (as other bloggers have done), I'll tell you a little about what I observe about my reading behaviour.

First I must acknowledge that I'm disappointed I didn't reach 200 books this year, as that number remains my annual goal. But given the year I've had, I'm happy to have cracked 150 books, particularly as I was sitting at 147 on November 30.

I have some rules about what I record as "read." I write down children's novels and YA novels, but I don't write down picture books and books with limited text. I also don't write down graphica (graphic novels, graphic memoirs, etc.). So, for instance, although I read Raven Girl by Audrey Niffenegger, it is not part of my title count, nor are Feminist Ryan Gosling: Feminist Theory (as Imagined) from Your Favorite Sensitive Movie Dude by Danielle Henderson (a humour book that compiles entries from a now famous blog and the infamous Hey, Girl meme) and I Could Pee on This: And Other Poems by Cats by Francesco Marciuliano (a humorous collection of short poems in various forms).

I have struggled this year with how to write down books I've edited — or whether to do so. I've opted not to include several books I edited that had limited textual context, but did include the two novels I edited (mostly because I read both novels in full at least four times each during the various phases of editing). I think I could have included at least other two books I edited, but I couldn't decide on a date for recording them as "read" (for the novels, I used the publication date: not as obvious for my contract editing work).

I notice that reading brings out my compulsive completist. I've read almost the entire Dear Canada series this year after receiving one book in the series to review (incidentally, I gave the book an "E," or five-star, review). I read several children's and YA novels on the basis of finding them on an NPR list of "best" books for young readers, and will continue to pick away at this list over the next few months. I've been thinking about Laura Ingalls Wilder professionally and academically, and that has led to my reading divergently around the Little House canon, including books by Roger Lea MacBride (Rose Wilder Lane's adopted heir), memoirs by Alison Arngrim and Melissa Gilbert, and various books about LIW herself.

In a similar impulse, I tend to read back through the catalogues of writers whose books I've enjoyed — even when those experiences are of varying quality. This year's new Jaclyn Moriarty was a little uneven — not my favourite of her novels — while Louise Rennison's new entry in the Tallulah Casey series was happily better than the last one. I read another title in the Size 12 (mystery) series by Meg Cabot, and a couple more in Carole Nelson Douglas's Irene Adler series, but have no interest in reading any other series by either of these authors. But I've read everything that Gail Bowen has published, including the short Charlie D mysteries she's written for Orca's Rapid Reads series; this year, Bowen contributed two new titles to my count, and I look forward to new books from her in 2014.

A little closer to home, I was disappointed by several books by authors from my local publishing community — authors whose work I've previously enjoyed (but not authors I've worked with). Also, I did enjoy several of the NWP books I read this year but must confess that I haven't re-read many of the published books I read in manuscript: too much else to read!

I find that I'm highly responsive to the recommendations on LibraryThing, particularly for YA and children's books. I also continue to be an avid reader of reviews in various magazines and newspapers, and I buy and eventually read many books on the basis of reviews and ads. Of course, I know that doing so makes me somewhat unusual psychographically, and I'm still very interested (academically and personally) in questions of book discoverability.

Reviewing continues to add to my list — a couple of dozen title this year — and I've already received a stack of books for reviewing in January. I'd definitely like to extend my opportunities as a reviewer this year.

I am surprised that I didn't read several of the books I was initially enthusiastic to buy or receive. These include a couple of memoirs with immediate ties to my academic work and a few serious books about language and culture. I'll hope to get to these soon. Of course, like any book lover, I own far, far more books than I'm likely ever to read unless I stop buying new books and stop borrowing books from the library. Hahahahaha: that's NOT going to happen.

According to LibraryThing, my total library to date includes 3632 books. Of these, 957 are books I own but have not read completely, and 1237 are books I have read but do not own. This library is historical, capturing books I read as a child (at least those I can remember) as well as books I've read or bought as an adult reader. LibraryThing remains my favourite social-media site (although I'm not very social on it) and is one of two or three sites I visit almost every day.

So that's 2013 for me, in terms of books and music. If you have any must-read or must-hear suggestions, please leave a comment below or let me know in person.

Happy New Year!

A Spanner in My Works!

 

The other day I described myself as a text-processing machine. Well, the sentence below is as much justification as I will ever need for my purpose in the world.

Moving from theory to practice, there has been progression in methods of practical delivery of the medical humanities in the undergraduate curriculum over the years.

I will edit this to make it slightly more graceful (and the problems more obvious), thus:

In the movement from theory to practice, there has been progress in the methods of practical delivery of the medical humanities in the undergraduate curriculum over the years.

Slightly more graceful, I emphasize. But seriously: in that sentence, the main clause is inverted, has a null subject, and is modified by an almost endless string of preposition phrases:

1. in the movement

2. from theory

3. to practice

4. in the methods

5. of practical delivery

6. of the medical humanities

7. in the undergraduate curriculum

8. over the years

!!!

I'll keep refining this sentence. And yes, it's not like I'm digging ditches for a living, I realize. But sentences like the original will keep editors in business for a long, long time.

L

Half-Year: Check-in, Review

-->

Well, howdy. Happy Sunday. Joyous Canada Day Eve. How's every little thing with you?

Here it is June 30, the year half over and summer just beginning. It seems to me like an apt time to take stock of 2013.

So far, not such a great year, really. There have been a few milestones, though:

• power boating course: certification in competent crew, day skipper, coastal navigation

• radio operator's certification

• assistant professor title

For the last seven or eight weeks, my every spare moment has involved editing. I've edited, copy edited, and/or proofread a ridiculous number of pages in the last two months, including an online exhibit on western Canadian culinary history, a book on special-service canine training, two novels, an exhibition catalogue on Chinese maps and other cultural documents, and a book on the creative arts as complementary training in health and medical studies. I am a text-processing machine!

At the same time, I foolishly agreed to do some volunteer work for the editors' association, both locally and nationally. What was I thinking?!? Was I thinking?

And I continue to review books, including four new titles for fall. I have nearly thirty published reviews to date.

And I am still in pursuit of my two-hundred-book goal for 2013, although right now I'm far shy of the hundred-book mark, with only seventy-one books read as of today.

(There is, I admit, some tangle in the logic of this process. When I receive the published copies of the books I've edited, I enter them in LibraryThing as read books, but I don't record them in my daybook as read books. A distinct discrepancy! But I haven't found a comfortable solution yet.)

My recent books read — excluding manuscripts — include two urban-fantary novels about a Hell-fighting Keeper, a New Adult novel about the children of fallen angels, Lois McMaster Bujold's astonishing novel Paladin of Souls (which has given me a strong new protagonist to identify with), and a brilliant scholarly book on readers and the construction of regional identities. It fits beautifully with my own academic work and I have a research project turning somersaults in my brain. But stilll! That's August's work.

In the meantime, I'm looking forward to some vacation days and the restorative power of the West Coast.

With hope that I'll check in more often in the next half, I remain,

Your correspondent,

L

Editors say weird things

So this came tripping out of my mouth a moment ago...

So 'hairspray' is closed.

All I can say is it means something to me.

And I probably shouldn't edit to Deadmau5, either.

Since it's topical right now

Last year I read Campus Confidential: 100 Startling Things You Don't Know About Canadian Universities by Ken S. Coates and Bill Morrison (Lorimer, 2011). Whether you're a student (or a prospective student), a parent, a faculty member, an administrator, or simply an interested Canadian, this provocative book will get you thinking about the purpose, efficiency, value, and sustainability of university education in Canada.

I can't truthfully say that I liked this book. I fundamentally disagree with many of its basic positions and attitudes. Still, there are many passages that I believe, from my subjective experiences as both a recent graduate student and a faculty member, are spot on. This book should inspire conversation about what the real purpose of a university education should be — or could be. There's certainly value in that discussion, particularly right now in Alberta, as the minister of Advanced Education tries to reframe what a university education is and means.

My Five-Star Bookshelf: A Coda

I would never have guessed when I started this exercise that it would take me the better part of a year to work through my twenty-nine five-star texts. Interestingly, in the course of writing those book talks, I identified a few books that should likely be added to the list, but I haven't added them, nor have I discovered any other books that deserve my five-star rating. Here are a few of my close contenders (4.5 stars), though, just for the sake of interest:

Sherman Alexie, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian

Tony Bennett et al., New Keywords: A Revised Vocabulary of Culture and Society

Joseph Boyden, Three Day Road

Lorna Crozier, The Book of Marvels: A Compendium of Everyday Things

JonArno Lawson, A Voweller's Bestiary

Martine Leavitt, My Book of Life by Angel

Toni Morrison, A Mercy

Bryan Talbot, One Bad Rat

Jo Walton, Among Others

I wish some of my favourite authors could write more books. I'd love a new Tom Robbins novel. I just checked and Jaclyn Moriarty has a new novel coming out this spring! And of course I have an unread John Irving sitting on my to-read pile upstairs. And an unread Atwood waiting for me to finish some major project or other — I bought it as a reward–incentive. And a couple of memoirs. And another few hundred books I mean to get to, sooner or later...

You will notice that several of the books on the 4.5-star list are for children or young adults. As I mentioned earlier, my professional interests — and perhaps my academic interests as well — are moving toward a deeper exploration and appreciation of YA texts.

When we finally build my longed-for library in the basement, I intend to recatalogue my books on LibraryThing. Perhaps there will be some shaking up of my five-star list at that time. In the meantime, I'm glad to have embarked on the writing exercise — despite that something intended to take a few weeks stretched on to months and months. Oh, poor players, we.

 

My Five-Star Bookshelf, Part Twenty-Seven

 
Ronald Wright, The Illustrated Short History of Progress

I missed my chance to hear Ronald Wright speak at the University of Alberta (in my own doctoral department!) in late 2012 and so regret that.

I received this book as a publisher's sampler. (What a joy it is to be an academic: free books!) This book, however, is one I should have read regardless. It's an important book, accessibly written and bearing a profound message: a society cannot advance past its natural carrying capacity, and our current global society is quickly encroaching on this critical boundary. This is highly effective environmental communication, entwined in history, cultural criticism, anthropology, and sociology.

This book, which was a Massey Lecture about a decade ago and subsequently a Canadian bestseller, is particularly enhanced by illustrations. (I must confess here that I also read an illustrated version of The Da Vinci Code, which I think made that book a much more compelling text — but nowhere near a five-star book.) I challenge you to read The Illustrated Short History of Progress and not feel moved to change the way you live. In small ways — and maybe in larger ways, too — I have, and thus this book is another that has changed my life.

And so endeth the list.

What not to do in the first week of April

So you have a doctorate and a pile of marking eight feet tall. You could be marking, or writing a paper, or reading an insightful book. Or you could do this.

"Bear"

(to the tune of "Hair" as performed by The Cowsills)

She asks me why

Why I'm a hairy guy

I'm hairy noon and night

Hey, I'm a fright

I'm hairy high and low

Don't ask me why

'Cos I don't know

It's just the way I'm bred,

Like Charles Darwin said,

Darling...

Give me a den with bears

Tall, beautiful bears

Biting, frightening,

Rending, mauling, tearing

Look at that one there: bear!

Shoulder height or taller: bear!

Here's the baby, there's the mama,

Look out for the daddy, daddy...

Bears! (bears bears bears bears bears bears oh)

Fear them, revere them

Just don't try feed them

They're bears.

They don't mind a stiff breeze

And they love to climb trees

A hole in a hill's a good lair

A coat full of fleas

A hive full of honey bees

Or roots and berries

There ain't no words

For the beauty, the splendor, the wonder

Of the...

Bears! (bears bears bears bears bears bears oh)

Fear them, revere them

Just don't try feed them

They're bears.

Their fur is long, straight, curly, fuzzy

Snaggy, shaggy, ratsy, matsy

Oily, greasy, fleecy, shining

Gleaming, steaming, flaxen, waxen

Brown or black or golden

Bears, they are so hairy

If you try to poke one you'll be

Mangled, wrangled, tangled

Like spaghetti

Oh say can you see

My claws?

If you can,

Then you're much too close.

O'er the mount—
O'er the mount—
The bear goes

over the mountain
where he sleeps for eight months

No, never has to diet

And he can sleep for eight months

Oh, give me a den with bears
Tall, beautiful bears

Biting, frightening,

Rending, mauling, tearing

Now won't you give a care for bears?

Black or Kodiak bears?

Here's the baby, there's the mama,

Look out for the daddy, daddy...

Bears! (bears bears bears bears bears bears oh)

Fear them, revere them

Just don't try feed them

They're bears! (bears bears bears bears bears bears oh)

Fear them, revere them

Just don't try feed them

They're bears!

Bears bears bears bears bears bears bears bears

Bears bears bears bears bears bears bears bears

Bears!

My Five-Star Bookshelf, Part Twenty-Six

 
Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own and Three Guineas

Remember that I wrote that Virginia Woolf is one of the most influential literary figures in my personal literary canon? These two books have been important to me for so long that I can barely remember a time when they weren't touchstones of my thinking: the first for asserting women's right to write and the second for critiquing the material structures of patriarchy that concentrate power and wealth in a small number of male hands at the expense of social justice.

OK, so Virginia Woolf is not a raving socialist. But she was arguably influenced by her husband, Leonard Woolf, who was (well, maybe not the raving part). She was also influenced by the suffrage movement and first-wave feminism (not that it was called that in Woolf's day). A Room of One's Own, a series of linked essays, traces the emergence of women writers (she would do so again, more humorously, in Orlando) and the struggles they must overcome for their art, and famously claims that "a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction." With sharp wit and cutting insight, Woolf imagines a line of maternal descent quite different from Bloom's "anxiety of influence" demonstrated most particularly, in Woolf's era, in T.S. Eliot's writing. Sadly, despite the advances women writers made in the twentieth century, we may now be in a retrograde period, wherein women artists seem to be losing ground and influence again. And that's perhaps where Three Guineas comes in.

Three Guineas is a response to a request Woolf received to contribute funds to anti-war work. Woolf's narrator declares that she would contribute except — The text (in effect a series of essays) explains how she feels funds might be directed to prevent war, rather than through a contribution to the letter-writer's society, through economic equality between the sexes, through education, and through an acknowledgement of the destructive force of patriarchy. Reading this text as an eighteen-year-old made real and immediate for me ideological ideas that were, until then, abstract to the point of being almost incomprehensible.

These texts together have underpinned my academic work for some twenty-five years. And of course I have moved far beyond Woolf's perspectives — and was fortunate enough to have been born in the second wave of feminist daughters. Still, I owe a tremendous intellectual and philosophical debt to these books of Woolf's, and they remain among my favourite five-star texts.

My Five-Star Bookshelf, Part Twenty-Five

Virginia Woolf, Mrs Dalloway

When I was an undergraduate, I had the great good fortune to take a year-long survey course in women's literature. We read almost everything in the Norton Anthology of Literature by Women, along with another dozen or so additional books: that in itself was a transformative experience. Mrs Dalloway, however, was one of the additional texts (my professor must have loved Woolf because we read a lot of her work) and remains one of my most beloved books — ironically so, since Clarissa is a woman of privilege and represents a world I should be glad to see gone.

If you know anything about me, you know that Virginia Woolf is one of the most influential literary figures in my life. I have read most, but not all, of her books and have read extensively about her — I've even had the opportunity to teach a couple of her essays; and I continue to be interested in Woolf and her writing, although my overall academic focus has changed. When I was doing my master's work in English, I took a course in book history in which I was able to examine books from the original Hogarth Press, the press Leonard Woolf set up as occupational therapy for Virginia. And although the probability has since been challenged by librarians at the Bruce Peel, I continue to believe that Virginia herself laid in the end papers in the Hogarth books we handled — that some essence of Woolf still endures in the physical object. For a Modernist, I can be a ridiculous romantic!

And so Mrs Dalloway. The novel takes place over a day while Clarissa Dalloway plans a party. Her path crosses with friends, relatives, and strangers, and their lives intersect in unexpected and haunting ways. Lines and images from this book still move me deeply. Woolf is a fine artist, and her sentences are astonishingly well crafted; I find her writing exquisite, although I recognize that it's not to everyone's taste. Woolf is a little out of fashion right now — well, Modernism generally is — and that's too bad because Woolf's writing is so elegant and lucid and sometimes funny. The plot of the novel isn't much (it makes a terrible film!); what I love about this book is the language, the sentences, the entwined stories — and, frankly, the way Woolf handles Septimus Warren Smith's madness and death. The novel's conclusion is utterly beautiful and sad, while at the same time curiously uplifting.

Mrs Dalloway continues to be one of my favourite books from one of my favourite writers. (And yes, I also loved The Hours, although it's not a five-star book for me.) As you will see, however, this is not the only Woolf text to have affected me so thoroughly.

My Five-Star Bookshelf, Part Twenty-Four

 
Aritha Van Herk, No Fixed Address

I discovered this book shortly after graduating from my BA. If you've been paying attention, you may have noticed that many of my favourite texts involve a focus on place; this one certainly does. It is a novel of many themes, but one of them is this place, Alberta.

Arachne Manteia is a travelling underwear salesperson (there were apparently no La Vie en Rose or La Senza shops at this time), criss-crossing Alberta in a very distinctive vehicle. She has a series of unusual experiences; the novel plays with the concept of the picaresque. At one point, Arachne walks into the Cluny General Store (see an image here), a moment at which the real and imagined worlds merge. Van Herk's description is excellent, and you will experience the hotel rooms, the little towns, and maybe the men as if you were Arachne. This is such a fun novel!

From this book I went on to read The Tent Peg, Van Herk's third novel, which I also loved. Only later did I go back to read Judith, her prize-winning first novel, which is also very smart and unusual — and definitely situated in this place. In the last few years, though, I've lost my taste for Van Herk's work; there are so many other texts competing for my attention. Still, writing about No Fixed Address reminds me how much I enjoyed it, and I hope you will read it, too.

My Five-Star Bookshelf, Part Twenty-Three

John Steinbeck, East of Eden

I read this book for the first time in 1985, as a required text for English 20. I read it in a weekend, caught up in the family saga, the astonishing characters, the Biblical exegesis and the American philosophy. Reading this book encouraged me to discover other Steinbeck novels, to study existentialism, and, by extension, to become a student of literary Modernism. I can almost draw a line from this novel to my master's work in English, and I can confidently relate this novel to so much of the reading I've done since leaving high school. This is truly a central text in my personal canon.

And I ADORE the character Sam Hamilton. Having read the novel so many times, I feel I know Sam personally. Sam is probably my favourite character in literature, and I urge you to read the novel simply to meet this astonishing figure.

This was my second high-school Steinbeck novel, the first having been Of Mice and Men, which my English 10 teacher required us to read the year before. I have of course read The Grapes of Wrath, as well as several of Steinbeck's lesser-known novels. That said, I've managed to miss some of his other high-profile books, a terrible admission from a self-professed Modernist specialist. But there's time to go back and read those that I've missed. (I'm more into the women of Modernism, and the ex-pats, anyway.) I imagine, however, that I will continue to reread East of Eden every few years for the rest of my life: it is always poignant, striking, vivid, and inspiring.

My Five-Star Bookshelf, Part Twenty-Two

 
Wallace Stegner, Crossing to Safety

Thinking about this novel takes me back to long summer days in the garden of our St Albert house and to the utter abandonment one experiences when reading truly outstanding books. There is a joy to reading certain books that only English majors seem to understand. This is one — such a gloriously beautiful book!

I had read some Stegner (The Big Rock Candy Mountain) in my twenties. And one of his short stories, too. I can't even remember now why I read Crossing to Safety, but I am so glad I did. Stegner has created breathtakingly gorgeous prose: the book overflows with sentences to re-read and cherish. It's a pity that literary tastes have changed such that writing of this calibre is only inconsistently valued today.

The book is also a compassionate examination of relationships, loyalties, and the gifts we receive. It follows the lives of two couples whose paths entwine when the men meet as young faculty members. One couple is glamorous and outrageous, the other quieter, subtler. We watch their lives advance together through happy and difficult moments. From this description, the novel may not sound very appealing, but the imagery, the storytelling, the characterization, and the prose itself are astonishing. Perhaps we want simply to watch lives like these unfold, or perhaps we long for close friendships like these; the chance to follow Larry, Sally, Sid, and Charity feels rare and special — at least to me.

From this novel I moved on to Angle of Repose, another masterful, award-winning novel. But I prefer Crossing to Safety. Whether it's the academic setting, the images of nature, the study of commitment, self, and identity, or just its seemingly effortless craft, this book stands among my favourite reading experiences of the last decade. I hope you too will read it.

My Five-Star Bookshelf, Part Twenty-One

Andrew Sayer, The Moral Significance of Class

The Moral Significance of Class is another crucial book — perhaps the most crucial book — from my dissertation work. As Sayer makes clear, class is not merely a matter of income, a level of education, or a practice of manners. Class has to do with the constant conflict between those who have power and those who don't, and this conflict necessarily has a moral edge. From the opening words of the book — "Class is an embarrassing and unsettling subject" — Sayer reminds us that a different world is possible; this social organization is only one of the options, and when we make choices that reduce the dignity and social participation of others, those choices also have a moral edge.

Discovering this text helped me to feel confident to take a normative position in my dissertation, which is to say that I make judgements in my diss: I argue that what is isn't good enough and could be better. These are unusual claims in a dissertation, but they felt — and feel — right for me.

What I particularly like about this text is that it's written in a strong voice with a wry sense of humour. For instance, at one point Sayer remarks, "class inequality would not be acceptable if only the dominant classes were nicer!" It is also deeply engaged in human dignity, as this comment shows: "The appropriate response to situations in which goods (whether objects, behaviours or institutions) are monopolized by particular groups is to enable equal access to them. The appropriate response to situations in which 'bads' are unequally distributed is to eliminate them, not distribute them more equally."

I refer to Sayer's work throughout my dissertation, although moreso for research methods than for his discussion of class. Still it is this book, and this treatment of class, that provided a significant breakthrough and energized my final few months of writing. Which of course changed my life.

My Five-Star Bookshelf, Part Twenty

 
Tom Robbins, Another Roadside Attraction

I was introduced to Tom Robbins' writing in high school. My first Robbins novel was Jitterbug Perfume, which is an intoxicating book and probably should also be on this list. Soon after reading Jitterbug Perfume, I found Another Roadside Attraction, a book that truly changed my life. It is a surreal romp from the forests of Washington to the Vatican and back again, set in the age of love and flowers. It involves football and Southern boys, a baboon, the Corpse, a flea circus, talking produce, and lots and lots and lots of drugs, sex, and music. It is a quintessential novel of the Sixties (despite having been published in 1971). I have read it countless times; it is a feel-good novel and always reminds me of very happy times.

I ADORE Robbins' character Amanda Ziller. She is with me much of the time. She is likely the character from literature I'd most want to be (at least when I'm not in a Virginia Woolf phase). This novel also taught me how to walk in the rain and how to enjoy mushrooms. It taught me about scent. It taught me about friendships that endure. It taught me to be tickled by language. The sixteen-year-old I once was was astonished that a book like this even existed; the wistful would-be writer I am today wishes I had the imagination to create something like it.

I can't begin to summarize the plot of this novel. It's more than a story; it's an experience. If you don't enjoy absurdism, if you can't read magical realism, if you're glad that the hippies were wrong, you should give this novel a pass. But if you're willing to alter your thinking — and maybe your life — Another Roadside Attraction is an outstanding place to start.

My Five-Star Bookshelf, Part Nineteen

-->
James Reaney, Colours in the Dark

I read this play late in my fourth-year undergrad experience. I was taking a course in contemporary Canadian drama. (This was the same year that Unidentified Human Remains and the True Nature of Love was produced at the Kaasa Theatre and later at the Roxy; it was also the same year that I first saw Goodnight, Desdemona... produced — see above.) Although I didn't know it at the time, Colours in the Dark was the play I had been waiting my whole undergrad career to read.

Reading contemporary Canadian plays was an eye-opening experience for me at this point. Of course I had read Shakespeare in high school and in first- and second-year university. And of course I had read modern plays in high school English, too: Twelve Angry Men, The Glass Menagerie, Death of a Salesman. You know, standard-issue drama that every "well-educated person" should have read. But reading Romeo and Juliet and Tennessee Williams is very different from reading the plays of Sharon Pollock and David Fennario. Most importantly, they write the drama of Canada, of places I have seen and lived in; and I could stage the plays in my mind (for that, I'm grateful for several years of receiving comp tickets to the Citadel and the Kaasa in my teens). Reading Blood Relations and Balconville and Leaving Home and The Donnellys excited my literary imagination in ways that previous drama units had not. (It probably didn't hurt that I was dating someone who lived and breathed the theatre, too.)

At the same time, I was immersed in my early study of Modernist poetry, which I would pursue further through my master's work. Colours in the Dark, for whatever reason, pulled Canadian drama, Modernist poetry, and my sense of place together in a dazzling way. I love this script: it's surreal and dreamy and very much of its moment — and quite Canadian. It contains stage directions that are literally impossible to enact. But I would certainly like to see a director try!

You're not likely going to read this play, but if you did, I hope you would have as eye-opening an experience of the drama of place and time as I did.

My Five-Star Bookshelf, Part Eighteen

Philip Pullman, The Amber Spyglass

I read The Golden Compass almost a decade ago at the encouragement of my young friend Kate. I loved that book and immediately read The Subtle Knife, the follow-up book in the series. I had to wait a few months before I read The Amber Spyglass, though, and I'm glad: I think it's the strongest book in the trilogy. The whole series could easily appear in my five-star list, but this book, in which Lyra and Will's missions and relationship develop fully, is certainly my favourite, the text with which I identified most immediately and completely. It changed my relationship with texts for children and young adults and led me to take courses in my doctoral preparation that I might not otherwise have taken; these have subsequently led to publishing and research directions I will likely pursue for the rest of my career.

If you haven't read the His Dark Materials trilogy, or at least seen the film The Golden Compass, I cannot begin to explain the plot of this series. Suffice to say it is an alternative-Earth fantasy for young adults, with many steampunk elements. It begins in Oxford but eventually spans the globe and other realms. The series might be read by upper elementary students, but I suspect the philosophy in the text would be meaningless to many children. For people who have begun adolescence and the process of individuation, though, the series poses important questions about the self, power and control, loyalty and friendship, and spirituality: big questions that many of us spend our adult lives contemplating. Pullman didn't intend the novels to be read only by young people, and I would definitely encourage adults to read this series. It thoughtfully explores themes of innocence and knowledge, love and sexuality, divine purpose, and much else.

And I adore the daemons! After reading the first two books in the series, I wanted a daemon, and for days after I finished The Amber Spyglass I felt incomplete without my own daemon.

If you enjoy speculative fiction and are looking for a text that will encourage you to think critically about what you know and believe, this series — and this book in particular — will make an excellent choice.

My Five-Star Bookshelf, Part Seventeen

Alistair Macleod, No Great Mischief

I was a graduate student doing my MA before I learned about Alistair Macleod's fiction. I am so glad I was introduced to his writing, though, because I love his short stories and, even more, his novel No Great Mischief.

No Great Mischief is a novel of Cape Breton. It's also a family saga, and a novel of separation and reunion. And, since it seems to be a theme lately, perhaps also a novel of redemption. The most famous line from this novel provides its most apt thematic summary: "All of us are better when we're loved."

This novel has won numerous awards and is the subject of publishing lore, as Douglas Gibson has told and retold the story of wresting the near-final manuscript from the author in order to see it published before Doug retired. Referring to the title itself, critics have compared the plot to the history of Canada itself. What was life-changing about this novel for me was its fusion of story, technique, and artistry. Every word is perfect; I lingered over the text, read it lovingly. As I am someone who consumes texts professionally, reading in this manner is striking and memorable. The story of love, faith, struggle, and belief in human dignity is arresting and profoundly moving. This novel may bring you to tears; it is certainly worth your time and attention. I hope you will read it.

My Five-Star Bookshelf, Part Sixteen

-->
Ann-Marie MacDonald, Goodnight, Desdemona (Good Morning, Juliet)

This book found its way to a position on my list as live theatre. I have seen this text enacted on stage three times and have re-read the script many times because it is such a pleasure. If you have any fondness for Shakespeare, this text will encourage you to rethink what you know and to reconsider what you believe. This text has special resonance for me, though, because of the time and circumstances of my discovering it.

Perhaps you know Ann-Marie MacDonald as the author of Fall on Your Knees (a novel that didn't quite make my five-star list but is very, very close). She is also an actor and a playwright — or at least, she wrote this play. Goodnight, Desdemona is the story of Constance Ledbelly, a failing academic who is on the verge of discovering the secrets to Romeo and Juliet and Othello: they weren't supposed to be tragedies but comedies, and the lead female characters weren't supposed to die. But to learn this secret, Constance must enter the texts themselves. Comedy ensues.

Goodnight, Desdemona is funny: funny enough that your core may hurt from laughing. There is great word play and tight script-writing. The text is also sharply feminist. In short, there's a lot to enjoy in the book — even more if you get to see the text on stage.

If you enjoyed Shakespeare in Love, you will enjoy Goodnight, Desdemona. It is witty and irreverent and pointed and thoughtful — qualities that make the best theatre, and that make for good reading generally.

Top 25 plays for 2012

 

Two thousand twelve has likely been the most unusual year of my life to date, and I see the year reflected clearly in my Top 25 playlist from iTunes. I find the tenacity of certain songs amusing, the appearance of new music encouraging. Some of these songs make me think of clear summer mornings on my new bicycle, others of the persistent circuits of living. And some likely seem random and inconsistent — but I never forget the power of my inner fifteen-year-old girl.

Maroon 5, "Moves Like Jagger"

Muse, "Madness"

Deadmau5, "The Veldt"

ABBA, "Summer Night City"

Lady Gaga, "Judas"

Siouxsie and the Banshees, "This Wheel's on Fire"

ABBA, "Take a Chance on Me"

Kim Wilde, "You Keep Me Hangin' On"

Jenson Interceptor, "Tiny Thing"

Amanda Palmer, "Map of Tasmania"

Florence and the Machine, "What the Water Gave Me"

Hawksley Workman, "Smoke Baby"

Nickelback, "Burn It to the Ground"

Roger Whittaker, "Kilgarry Mountain"

Jimmy Rankin, "We'll Carry On (Prelude)"

Christina Aguilera, "Dirrrty"

Milla, "Electric Sky"

ABBA, "Waterloo"

Caramell, "Caramelldansen"

Kate Bush, "Be Kind to My Mistakes"

The Doobie Brothers, "Long Train Runnin'"

The Irish Rovers, "Lord of the Dance (Live)"

Hair Soundtrack, "The Flesh Failures"

Deadmau5, "Raise Your Weapon"

Loggins and Messina, "House at Pooh Corner"

I'm resetting my iTunes play counts on January 1. Through the music I'll chart the journey through the next twelve months. Looking forward to seeing what they bring.

My Five-Star Bookshelf, Part Fifteen

Margaret Laurence, The Diviners

This extraordinary meta-fictional novel is one of my very favourite books ever. I adore this text! If I ever taught literature, I would teach this book; if I could think of a way to use it to teach either grammar or editing, I would teach this book. It is exquisite in its concept and execution, and I know I will read it again and again before I die.

The Diviners is the pinnacle text of Laurence's Manawaka books. It is the narrative of Morag Gunn, a writer who is attempting to tell an important story. When she is young, Morag is adopted and raised by parents scorned by the "good" people of Manawaka. She does, however, have a fleeting friendship with Jules Tonnerre, a Métis boy. As a young woman, Morag works as a local reporter; reporting on a fire drives her away from Manawaka and into university, where she falls in love with and eventually marries a professor. After several stultifying years as the wife of an academic, Morag leaves to follow her own art — and her own heart. This storyline is developed through extended flashbacks; in the present tense of the story, Morag is fighting with her own daughter, Piquette, who is becoming a young woman herself and wants to understand her family history. The resolution is not necessarily happy but represents the potential for new understanding, new beginnings.

There are so many issues in this novel: class and poverty, Canadian racism and biases, personal histories and mythologies, early feminism, an exploration of intellectualism, the artist's need for isolation and outsider status, the possibility of renewal... The writing is sharp and insightful, and the characters are rich and fascinating. The novel is also absolutely Canadian, rooted deeply in the land and place. This is literary writing at its best, inclusively so: it is high brow and conceptual while simultaneously critiquing these positions. Brilliant, just brilliant.

I cannot recommend this novel enough, yet I have met many people who haven't read it, people whose only exposure to Margaret Laurence is The Stone Angel (not one of my favourites but still a great book). The Diviners is also notorious in Canadian literature as a book that is routinely censored in Canadian high-school classrooms (especially in Ontario); as a result of its being censored, The Diviners is rumoured to be the reason Laurence stopped writing: it was her last novel. (The truth of this rumour is considerably more complicated, though, as biographies of Laurence have since revealed.)

If you want a book with the sweep of a family saga, the rough beauty of the Canadian wilderness, and a deeply personal revelation of various forms of freedom, The Diviners can't miss. I truly hope you will read and enjoy it.