Oct 2019: Still in love with you on this harvest moon

Technically, Fall arrives in September, but we all know it’s not seriously Fall until October. My birthday (for which we give thanks), my daughter’s birthday (for which we also give thanks), Thanksgiving (so nice of Canada to have a holiday in our honour like that), me and Dave’s anniversary – 20 years!! – October is jammed pack with goodness. No matter how much my life overfloweth, there’s always some time for reading. Here’s what I dove into this month.

Marigolds and Murder by London Lovett. A comfortable, pleasant, completely forgettable cozy mystery with a fun detail: the main protagonist is a former perfumer with an incredibly perceptive nose. Her heightened sense of smell provides clues that others would miss.   

Cold Comfort by Scott Mackay. Written in the 90’s, this book does have some elements that feel really dated. All the non-Caucasian characters are very much described in terms of their race and skin colour, while the white people - as the default setting – get described in more detail, without the emphasis on othering. That said, I rather enjoyed the plot, pacing, and that the book is set in Toronto. 

The Innocents by Michael Crummey. Unrelentingly grim in classic Can-con fashion: Man (actually, children) versus Nature, innocence into experience, lives hanging on by grudging meagre mercies from a mostly pitiless world. I don’t know if it’s a more draining experience overall than, say, A Fine Balance, but this novel is a lot, friends. After the deaths of their parents and baby sister, two children are left entirely alone in a remote Newfoundland outpost with just Spring and Fall visits from a boat to bring supplies and take away the cod they catch and preserve with salt. Pretty sure if you read this, any two Margaret Atwood novels, Fifth Business, A Separate Peace, The Tin Flute (preferably in French), and a smattering of Alice Munro or WP Kinsella short stories, you are automatically granted Canadian citizenship. It defeated me, and I couldn’t finish.

Never Too Late by Jo Birney. After decades of an unhappy marriage, the protagonist Edith finds herself suddenly a widow. And just as suddenly, she finds herself completely at sea in her life with questions about her role, purpose, and how it all went so wrong. She also realizes that she’s surrounded by people, including her daughter-in-law, with whom she’s never really bothered to build real relationships. As she works to understand herself in this new circumstance, she begins to realize she never truly knew her husband either. I was surprisingly gripped by this quiet, “small” novel that uncovers emotional mysteries, regrets, and hopes of a very realistic woman and her family.

The Wedding Date by Jasmine Guillory. An utterly charming romance that neatly sidesteps the irritants of chick lit, while providing a satisfying level of swooniness. You should read it on your next vacation or anytime you want a light-hearted novel that’s modern, non-regressive, and well-written.   

Kingdom of the Blind by Louise Penny. I think this is my favourite Louise Penny novel in a while. Armand Gamache, who is still suspended from the Sûreté du Québec after his risky moves in The Glass Castle, is appointed executor of a stranger’s will. The stranger has left a fortune, title, and several properties to her heirs. But it would seem all the riches are a fiction of her eccentric – or are they? When one of the heirs is killed, the main plot thickens further. The side plot carries on the storyline of the missing, deadly carfentanil and the race to recover it.    

The Proposal by Jasmine Guillory. Happy sigh. Similar in feel to The Wedding Date, but a new plot with new characters. I enjoyed that one of the main characters in this novel was a friend of the main character in the previous novel. I liked the loose continuity, without it being truly a sequel. If you plan to read both, read this one second or else spoilers ahoy.    

On the Pod:

Right now, I’m listening to Uncover: Sharmini.  Sharmini Anadavel was just 15 and about to finish grade 9 when she left her family’s apartment in North York and never returned. She believed she was heading to a new job that Saturday morning. Her skeletal remains were found 4 months later. No one has ever been charged but, even after 20 years, circumstantial evidence seems to point in one direction. That person is in jail for another crime, and with the Dangerous Offender Label, should be there for a long, long time. But is that justice for Sharmini and all the many family and friends who loved her? Another gripping, high quality CBC podcast.

Sept 2019: If it ends in a wedding, it's a comedy

September was a very busy month around these parts for me and mine, and, thankfully, the good kind of busy. The month culminated in a wedding between two wonderful people, my “littlest” brother-in-law and my brand new sister-in-law. The beauty part for Dave and I was that our part of the country is also the home of the bride’s parents and the rough mid-point for all the travellers from East and West, so we didn’t even have to travel.

I didn’t spend as much time reading as I often do, but there are a couple gems on my list from the month.

Seven Fallen Feathers: Racism, Death and Hard Truths in a Northern City by Tanya Talaga. As I continue to try to mitigate my ignorance about the experience of First Nations people in Canada, the more I realize that – while it’s easy to point to generational trauma inflicted by the decisions of the past (the Sixties Scoop, residential schools, broken treaties) – fresh trauma continues to mount. This nonfiction account of the deaths of seven high school students far from their remote Northern homes who’d come to Thunder Bay because it was their best, often only, chance to get a high school education is not about the distant past. These deaths happened in the first decade of this millennium. Ms Talaga, an experienced and lauded journalist, writes beautifully and uses the voices of her interview subjects to great effect. While nonfiction, the story unfolds like a story, with movement between past and present in the narrative and a deeply personal feel.          

The Line Becomes a River: Dispatches from the Border by Francisco Cantú. The word “liminal” describes this memoir perfectly: “Derived from Latin limen meaning “threshold”, liminal refers to a transitory, in-between state or space, which is characterized by indeterminacy, ambiguity, hybridity, potential for subversion and change.” Mr Cantú, grandson of a Mexican immigrant, has a fascination with the border between the US and Mexico so much that he joined the Border Patrol in an effort to learn more about it, and about the people who risk everything to cross it. Over time, having been trained to hunt down and detain the living and retrieve the bodies of the dead, he becomes less certain rather than more and feels complicit in the dehumanization of real, actual, individual people. After he leaves the Border Patrol, he tries to help a friend, an illegal immigrant, get back to the US after having returned to Mexico for his dying mother. The literal border and borders between versions of righteousness, spaces of uncertainty and challenge, run throughout the book as Cantú works to desimplify the popular “build a wall” narrative.        

Late Breaking by KD Miller. Fiction, beautiful fiction! This series of interwoven short stories inspired by the paintings of  Alex Colville is truly, deeply gorgeous. Each focuses on the life, loves, heartbreaks, and mysteries of an elderly protagonist or someone linked to a protagonist of a preceding story. The individual stories stand on their own; taken together, they become a masterpiece mosaic.      

The Care and Feeding of Ravenously Hungry Girls by Anissa Gray. This novel tells the story of three adult sisters and their families as they deal with the fallout of the eldest sister (who was essentially a substitute mother as they grew up) being jailed for a series of frauds. It’s a good read and weighty enough to be reasonably satisfying. 

Malevolent by Jana DeLeon. A woman believes she is being stalked by her dead husband, whom she killed in self-defence. The police think she’s crazy. She brings on a surprisingly young private detective, who has a terrible past of her own, to keep her safe and figure out what’s going on. We’re not talking fine literature here, but it was a pretty good page turner.

Frying Plantain by Zalika Reid-Benta. This lovely book – I can’t decide if it feels more like interconnected short stories or fairly distinct chapters – tells the story of Kara Davis, a Canadian girl who feels the pressure to also be a “true Jamaican.” She feels she’s always not quite living up to others’ expectations: too shy, too bold, too flirty, too much, too little. The reader can see the love she’s surrounded by in her family and how it’s expressed in ways that hide it, that confuse and even damage her. And her friends offer no safe haven, pressuring her to be more adventurous and risk-taking, which goes against her instincts for self preservation. Kara is a very sympathetic character, and Ms Reid-Benta brings forward the tensions she faces in a real and rich way.

Rounded out the month on a sweet note - Dave and I made the wedding cakes. The dryer-top display was only temporary, I promise!

August 2019: A fine crop of books from start to finish

This month has given an amazing string of books without a single dud. Part of my enjoyment probably comes from each of them being so different from the others. No repeated tropes or cliches to make me cranky.

Never Have I Ever by Joshilyn Jackson. A very enjoyable summer read that I’m quite sure will be a movie in no time. It has a similar vibe to Gone Girl or Girl on a Train that way, and that’s a compliment! Intriguing story with layers and a strong, interesting main character in Amy, a woman who’s been through a lot in her past that’s she’s hidden away in her now “perfect” suburban life. Then, charismatic beauty Roux arrives, and Amy’s carefully woven perfection starts to unravel. If I were casting the movie, Angelina Jolie would be a natural for Roux, maybe Amy Adams for Amy, and maybe Jenna Coleman for Charlotte, Amy’s best friend.  

Meet Me in Monaco: A Novel of Grace Kelly's Royal Wedding by Hazel Gaynor and Heather Webb. Another lovely and satisfying summer read. Sophie Duval is working in her perfume shop in Cannes when none other than Grace Kelly, already one of Hollywood’s brightest stars, ducks in to try to shake off a paparazzo with a camera. Sophie shelters Grace in her office, then meets the pursuing English photographer who comes in moments later. This incident offers the catalyst for friendships, professional advances, and adventures. Before anything else, it’s a love story (and not primarily the one involving Princess Grace).   

The Boat People by Sharon Bala. We’re surrounded by stories about refugees – in the news, politics, social media, TV shows – but we seldom hear the stories of individual humans. Together, they may be part of a “refugee crisis,” or not, but what is the life story of that person or of him or her or another? This novel is fiction that feels relevant and very true. There are three key people whose individual stories are told as their lives come to intersect: Mahindan, a Tamil refugee with a young son who has arrived in Canada on a rusting cargo ship full of refugees; Priya, a first generation Canadian whose own parents left Sri Lanka in the ‘80s seeking a peaceful life; and Grace, the descendent of Japanese-Canadians whose Canadianness meant nothing when they were interned as possible security threats and whose home and business were both confiscated during World War 2. Priya is an articling law student assigned to help Mahindan with his claim to be considered a bona fide refugee, while Grace is a political appointee with little relevant experience who sits in judgement of the refugee cases. 

This novel was incredible and, wow, no pat and easy answers to be found either. Full respect to the author who unveils details bit by bit, and ultimately ends on a cliffhanger. A very credible mirror to real life where so much is unknowable.  

Dear Fahrenheit 451: Love and Heartbreak in the Stacks: A Librarian's Love Letters and Breakup Notes to the Books in Her Life by Annie Spence. This whopper of  a title says it all. Much of the book is a collection of letters from a librarian to the books she loves, loathes, and loans out. What a hoot! I just loved it. And man, do I wish I had thought of the concept because I have definitely have things to say to some selected books (looking at you, Wuthering Heights). She also provides lists of books to read under certain circumstances as well as excuses to use in order to stay at home and dive under the book covers. 

The Library Book by Susan Orlean. I did not know the Los Angeles Central Library burned the same week as the Chernobyl nuclear disaster. Now I know so much about this particular library, and the city and state it’s in, but more broadly, the book’s also provided an enhanced appreciation for the philosophy of libraries and the role they play in the life of society. I’ve always felt an easy sense of comfort and pleasure in libraries – being surrounded by more books than I could ever read is a wonderful thought – and being immersed in this book gave me the same sense of ease and eagerness.  

The Giver by Lois Lowry. A novel that’s head and shoulders above many of its YA peers, this book takes place in a seemingly utopian society. There’s no war, no hunger, and everyone has a role in society. As the story unfolds, it becomes evident that there’s also no freedom, no love, no room for imagination or creativity. I found it to be a fast and fascinating read. I’d love to understand how teachers tackle it in the many intermediate/middle school classrooms where it’s on the curriculum. It’s obviously written to broadcast A Message but, frankly, I’m not clear on what the precise message is meant to be. There are lots of big bads (euthanasia, censorship, drugs to take away emotions); however, unlike, say, Fahrenheit 451 or The Handmaid’s Tale or 1984, I’m not what Lowry is trying to communicate about our society. Nevertheless, it’s an interesting story, and one that should evoke active discussion however the kids zero in to it.   

A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles. With the elegance and grace of the refined – and now virtually exterminated – Russian aristocracy, Count Alexander Rostov lives under house arrest at the luxurious Metropol hotel in Moscow. He’s been imprisoned for authoring a poem unacceptable to the Bolsheviks now in power, but the beauty of the poem is also what saves him from the firing squad met by so many of his peers. Over the decades, the Count’s life intersects with movie stars, power-brokers, foreigners and, most importantly, the little girl who becomes his daughter. Throughout, his charm, manners, and dedication to living the life he’s been given with authenticity and the highest of standards remain unblemished. The storytelling is well-paced and the language, absolutely beautiful.

July 2019: Basking in the glow of hot days and good reads

A week of vacation and several days too hot to be anything other than leisurely made for some good reading this month. Happy sigh. I’m a warm weather creature that’s for sure. Very nice variety in books this month as well, which I think ups my satisfaction level overall. It’s clear I get cranky when I indulge in too much of one genre.

The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer by Siddhartha Mukherjee. There is nothing light about this book, but it is a surprisingly swift read, given the subject matter. It’s about cancer itself as the bête noire of humanity that’s been with us for thousands of years. Through the lens of a researcher and scientist, and with the voice of a gifted storyteller, the author both demystifies cancer and reveals its astonishing complexity. Truly engrossing.  

Quoth the Raven (The Gregor Demarkian Holiday Mysteries Book 4) by Jane Haddam. I found that this one was not as enjoyable as some of the others by this author featuring the same protagonist. This book takes Gregor away from home, and what became apparent to me is that I really enjoy the atmosphere of the Armenian neighbourhood and his collection of neighbours as part of the fabric of the story, and a WASPy college campus – the setting for this book – really wasn’t as interesting.    

Birdie by Tracey Lindberg. It's fiction, beautifully written, about a Cree woman who's struggling to build her life as an independent adult and needs to go deep within herself to get past her own past and rebuild a new self-story. The language is absolutely gorgeous, layering in Cree words to the English here and there, usually to express concepts that don't have an English equivalent. I found myself reading some passages aloud to savour the cadence. Also if you're a Canadian of an age advanced enough to remember The Beachcombers, you'll find some resonance there as well.

Knitlandia by Clara Parkes. Each chapter is the author visiting another place (a yarn festival, or an indie dyer, or a tour of a country) and speaking about it from her perspective as a dedicated knitter. It was completely charming, and light! And with the recent social upheavals in the fibre arts world (seriously guys, it's been rough!), it's great to read a sympathetic voice about how the shared culture can knit us (har, har) together.

Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. I started reading this novel once before and couldn’t get through it. I found it dull, boring even. Having joyfully flown through it this time around, I fully agree with those of you shaking your heads in bewilderment. I know. What was wrong in my brain? This book is a delight, from start to finish. Co-written by two masters, it tells the story of the impending apocalypse with a demon and an angel as anchoring characters, who know they should be at odds but actually find collaboration far more efficient since, after all, both their bosses want the end times to arrive – but they, having grown quite comfortable with humanity, don’t. The full cast of characters offers tremendous fun; as out there as they get, even the bit players feel fully realized and treated with respect by the authors. Now with the book officially under my belt, I’ve started to watch the Amazon Prime series. Loving it so far, with a special mention for David Tennant’s slinky, aging rock star-like portrayal of Crowley, the demon.     

The Dispossessed: Fall of a Fortress by Frieda Watt. The title of this book gave me a misguided impression of what to expect. I really thought it would be about the community of Fortress of Louisbourg in what is now called Cape Breton, Nova Scotia but then was a small French outpost on Ile Royale, a thousand kilometres away from the capital of New France, Quebec City. I expected to read the stories of several intertwining characters, maybe of different social status. However, it has a smaller focus than that, zooming in on a single character, Marie Levesque, and telling the story of her romance with a local boy, who unwittingly becomes a French soldier. Despite the often-implausible twists and turns and some occasional anachronistic language that hits the mind with a thud, it is a rather engaging romance that illuminates the history of the fortress where lives are threatened and changed irrevocably by events across the ocean.   

Sweet Valley Confidential: 10 Years Later by Francine Pascal. Hey, I’m not too proud to admit that I gobbled this novel up pretty much as soon as I learned of its existence. (Since it was published in 2011, I’m clearly out of SV loop.) To be sure, it is truly bad, with none of the characters – not a one – having had much apparent emotional growth since their Sweet Valley High days. Elizabeth and Jessica are still perfectly beautiful and perfectly identical, but they are now bitter enemies after a huge betrayal. Dun, dun, dun! Of course, it’s over a man. What else could possibly matter so deeply to this pair? Anyhow, I very much enjoyed finding out what Pascal had in store for the twins at 27. I won’t spoil any of it. If you are interested, read it! If you aren’t and never have been, that’s a bullet well and truly dodged, friend. 

On the Pod: 

99% Invisible is a massively successful podcast that deserves pretty much every listen you have to give. It’s about “all the thought that goes into the things we don’t think about — the unnoticed architecture and design that shape our world,” and I don’t believe I’ve heard a disappointing episode yet. Start at any one that catches your fancy because they are self-contained and generally pretty timeless. Here’s a tasting menu of some that come to mind for me:

• Episode 357: The Barney Design Redux – About the evolution of jersey design in the NBA, with “Barney Design” referring to the original Raptors look with the crazy red dinosaur dribbling the ball. 

• Episode 328: Devolutionary Design – The seriously fascinating story behind the cramazing album cover for 1978’s Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo!, which featured a somewhat mutated portrait of legendary golfer Chi Chi Rodriguez. 

• Episode 308: Curb Cuts – Here’s an essential little something that you don’t notice until you need them - the small ramps from sidewalk to street or to parking lot that make it possible for wheelchair users, people pushing strollers or anyone with mobility challenges to continue their journey. I had no idea they were invented just 50ish years ago. I was shocked they were “invented” at all and hadn’t just been part of sidewalk design since the inception of sidewalks. Mind blown and a perfect example of design that, when done well, is invisible.
  
  

June 2019: Books that are fine, not "fine books"

Nothing on this list particularly dazzled me this month. Other than Crazy Rich Asians, they were kind of slow reads, which is strange since none of them are densely written. Maybe it’s me? Let me know what you think.

One Feta in the Grave (A Kebab Kitchen Mystery) by Tina Kashian. Though this is the third instalment in this series, I think it’s the second I’ve read. I mean, it was okay.  

Viola Desmond’s Canada: A History of Blacks and Racial Segregation in the Promised Land by Graham Reynolds. This book contains so much interesting content told as a straight-up narrative recounting of events, plus it has some archival source material included. The writing is in desperate need of a vigorous copy edit and proofread, I must say. However, the stories and photos, and source material––including a chapter by Viola Desmond’s younger sister sharing her first-person point of view–– are fascinating. Well worth your time to learn about a little-taught aspect of Canadian history. 

The Gun Also Rises: (A Sarah Winston Garage Sale Mystery) by Sherry Harris. Not hard to tell which books Dave brought home from the library for me this month. He goes for the puns because he knows that  even if the book is crappy I’ll get a kick out of the title. This book is not crappy; it’s fine. Look at me damn with faint praise. I just can’t get my head around the idea that someone could make a living facilitating garage sales for other people. Of all the silliness in the cozy genre, apparently  I draw the line at implausible jobs – though crime-solving pets are also a hard no for me.

Crazy Rich Asians by Kevin Kwan. I saw this book climb the popularity charts after it came out, but I was put off by the title. I finally saw the movie on a plane and really quite enjoyed it. Frothy for certain, but not the one-note stereotype characterization I had wanted to avoid. And the cast of the movie is really spectacular. So when my library mule brought the book home, I was ready to give it a try. As you might expect, the story is more layered, secondary characters are more fully fleshed out, and there are more plot points than there are in the movie, but it is also absolutely charming. Great summer read.

On the Pod: 

If you’re like me and have a person (or, in my case, a few people) with ADHD in your life, you will find great information, advice, and shared experiences in the ADDitude: ADHD Experts Podcast. The cognitive differences that ADHDers experience can affect just about every aspect of their lives, positively as well as not so... Each episode tackles a different topic with different experts, and there’s something for everyone: kids and adults – including seniors – with ADHD, men and women, teachers, parents, and the list goes on. I appreciate that every episode has a title that clearly describes what the episode will focus on. 

Recently I’ve enjoyed and learned from Life Skills Every High School Student Should Learn Before Graduation, ADHD in Adults vs Children: Symptoms, Diagnosis, and Treatment, and ADHD in Women and Girls: Why Gender Matters in Diagnosis and Treatment. 

May 2019: Gripping ugly realism, beautifully told plus lighter than light fiction

No idea what kind of bird this guy/gal is. What a delightful view from my office window though, right?

There’s a whole lot of ugly in this world, much of it inflicted on humans by other humans sometimes by the people one would expect to make you safe: police, parents, doctors and caregivers. A couple of the books I read this month really drove that point home. So naturally, I had to balance those out with a few much less taxing choices. It’s all about knowing my limit and playing within it.

Brownies and Betrayal by Heather Justesen. I enjoyed this cozy, but I had to look up a summary of it to remember it less than a month after reading. So that may tell you what you need to know.  

The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas. This book was a huge hit when it came out a couple of years ago, and has been made into a movie, which I haven’t yet seen. No idea if the movie is any good, but the book is excellent. It’s about a young black woman who is navigating two worlds: the poor black neighbourhood that’s home and the richy-rich predominantly white school she attends. When her childhood friend is shot by police in front of her, the resoundingly different narratives that emerge about the shooting in each of those worlds forces her to speak out – putting her sense of self and sense of community at risk in both.   

The Girl Who Takes An Eye for An Eye by David Lagercrantz. I probably wouldn’t have considered reading this novel except that it was in the delicious stack of books from my aunt. It’s a continuation, the fifth book, in the Millennium Series (aka The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo books) created by Stieg Larsson. I look down my nose at that sort of thing because it inevitably feels like a cash grab. Here’s the rub though, (whispering) I think Mr. Lagercrantz may be the better writer. I thought this book, in terms of both plot and storytelling, was a step up from the original three. I know! It was a good ride, and maybe I should adjust my snoot. Maybe.

Educated by Tara Westover. The memoir of a young woman raised in a survivalist, anti-government family for whom the paranoia and “us against the world” world view is normal – until she begins to crave genuine learning. She’s never been allowed to attend school and the home schooling she received ranges from marginal to non-existent. Ms Westover comes across as scrupulously honest and seems to still be processing the deep injustices imposed on her by her own parents. It makes for a fascinating read where the reader – at least in my case – wishes it was fiction instead of fact. Truly, I had a hard time putting this book down it was that gripping.

Cocoa and Chanel by Donna Joy Usher. This book is a hoot. The first in a series, it features Chanel Smith, a hairdresser who decides to become a police officer on the flimsiest of reasons. It’s how she goes through life, by the seat of her (preferable fashionable) pants. If you’re looking for an easy and highly entertaining read, and you don’t require gravitas in your heroine – or well, anywhere in the story – go for it.  

Goons ‘n’ Roses by Donna Joy Usher. I enjoyed Cocoa and Chanel so much, I dove into the sequel right away. It is also fun, but I really should have paced myself. I would have enjoyed it more had I used it as a break between heavier reads. Live and learn!

April 2019: What would life even be like without books?

I have a great big blind spot in my ability to get inside some people’s minds. Actually, l’m going to stop and reword – I have a big blank spot in my desire to empathize with people as soon as they say, “I don’t read.” Not, mind you, “I can’t read” or “I hate reading,” because I feel like both of those issues arise from shortcomings or disadvantages in their education. And not, “I don’t read as much as I’d like to.” But just the simple, “I don’t read.” They could read; they just simply don’t value it as an activity and think their time is better spent otherwise. I don’t understand, and I don’t want to. So there. That said, here are the books I spent time with in April:

Assault and Beadery by Mollie Cox Bryan. Loved the description of the crafts in this one. I may actually try to make rose beads based on her instructions. The actual crime seemed pretty uninteresting to the author and shoehorned in as required by the genre.  

Theory by Dionne Brand. Beautifully written and funny, but also painfully so. Ms Brand captures the oxygen-starved, self-referential, performative world of academia perfectly. The narrating protagonist, called Teoria by a lover, is ABD – all but dissertation – on a PhD that seems increasingly unlikely to ever to be completed, though Teoria believes it will be the catalyst that brings together disparate realms of thought on race, culture, class, gender, politics, and thereby upend hundreds of years of established structures, bringing about radical social change. The novel follows Teoria’s relationships with three lovers over several years, where each has a transformative effect on the narrator’s world view, requiring an entire overhaul of hundreds and thousands of pages.

Washington Black by Esi Edguyan. LOVE. Such a page turner as I haven’t experienced in a while. I was starting to think that maybe I have too much going on mentally to really sink into a book. Unusual for me as books are my great escape, but I just haven’t been sinking lately. So this novel was a big relief on that score. This novel is a “bildungsroman” (there’s a nice $5 word for you), which simply means that it focuses on the protagonist’s growth from youth to adulthood, particularly with a view to moral or psychological growth. George Washington Black is born into slavery in Barbados and as a young boy becomes a kind of an apprentice to the brother of the plantation owner, which opens up a life filled with different kinds of possibility, adventure, and danger. I don’t want to give anything away. Just read it.  

Parting Shot by Linwood Barclay. Another suspenseful page turner by Mr. Barclay. This author does not disappoint me. I really enjoy that while he writes in a genre that’s typically laden with conventions his books are so much better than conventional.  He writes characters, not air-inflated stereotypes, and the stories are believable. Really good.

On the pod:

No fresh podcasts to share this month. I listened to lots of stuff, but nothing fresh that really rose to the top as a something I had to evangelize. It would seem I’m much more selective in what I list for listening. Curious, no?

March 2019: One prickly dude and a whole lot of interesting women

Aw, March. You’ve got your lions, your lambs, your ides, your sap, your March Break. International Women’s Day happens in March. I wonder why that is? I don’t even know. World Down Syndrome Awareness Day is in March as well. And March, of course, has the first day of Spring. Many wonderful things happen in March. As the days start to grow brighter – TGIS! – books are always something to celebrate.

Diary of a Bookseller by Shaun Bythell. Yup, the title reveals the schema; this book is the 2014 diary of Mr Bythell, the crankypants owner of Scotland’s largest used bookshop. It provides his day-by-day recordings of what he viewed as important – book buying trips, struggles with eccentric or difficult employees, town festivities, books he’s reading, visits with friends, till versus online revenue, and his almost-always-negative take on his customers. I enjoyed the insider’s view of the trade, particularly the details about buying and valuing used books; that was fascinating. And I get that in a diary, a person might tend to record more of the critical than the positive, but it was wearing for me as a reader.

I’d love to visit – the book collection, shop, town, events all sound glorious – but no need to meet the author. Not sure my reading, my commentary, nor my conversation would measure up to his standards.

Murder with Macaroni and Cheese: A Mahalia Watkins Soul Food Mystery by A.L. Herbert. A new series for me, this light-as-air cozy features an entertaining cast of characters. While it follows many familiar conventions of the genre, the heroines (and I think the author?) are African-American women who bring fresh language, perspective and zest – cousin Wavonne has zest to spare – to the story.  I thoroughly enjoyed the story, the food descriptions and recipes – no, I didn’t try any of them – and the nonsensical hijinks. I also liked that Halia doesn’t have a cop/sheriff/lawyer boyfriend/husband/friendly ex alternately giving her tips or warning her off. She’s an independent business woman. At least so far in the series…

Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons.  Dave read this book first because Shaun Bythell (the bookseller, above) recommended it in his diary. Within the first few chapters, possibly the first few pages, he started saying, “you have to read this after me. It’s so good!” I knew I’d have to read it, or there’d be no peace in the Valley (Ottawa Valley; we were there for March Break). Not far in, I was questioning how I’d never read it before. I have two degrees in English for crying out loud. This 1932 novel is brilliant satire and gorgeously written to boot. How was it not forced down the throat of every English undergrad like the rural agonies of Thomas Hardy (ugh) or Emily Bronte (help me, Jebus) it mimics?  Honestly, I need to read it again, and it may become one of those I reread every decade or so just to revisit a friend. It’s charming and dark and bitchy and funny, with a happy somewhat deus ex machina ending that ties everything up in a neat little bow and spits in the eye of the gloom-sayers one final time.   

Sharp: The Women Who Made An Art of Having An Opinion by Michelle Dean. Ironically, given the subtitle, I spent much of my time reading this book feeling ambivalent about it. Not about the subject matter: the ten-ish women this book features were undoubtedly important contributors to a contained sphere of intellectual life in the twentieth century. I felt ambivalent about how their contributions were unfurled by the author.  It reads like a show and tell; here are the knowns about this woman, about her points of view, about the barbs hurled at her and by her at others. At some points, Ms Dean draws connections between the women or their points of view, but she doesn’t make her own assessments or opinions overt. I am happy to have read it because I did indeed learn more about very interesting women. I feel that I could have learned more, or have dug in much more, should the author have chosen to more actively engage with her subjects. Rather than a recounting, I would have appreciated an accounting. Michelle Dean is sharp herself. Her critical voice comes through best in the prelude and afterword, and I would have liked to mentally dialogue with it throughout.

On the Pod: 

I recently started listening to the Show Your Work Podcast hosted by Elaine “Lainey” Lui and Duana Taha, both of LaineyGossip.com and each of a multitude of other endeavours. Speaking of interesting women, these two definitely are, having built serious careers founded on celebrity gossip and pop culture. In episodes released each week, this podcast looks at the work behind the ephemera. What goes into creating and maintaining an actor’s perfectly imperfect image? What’s a press junket like, and why does it matter which critics get invited along? A recent two-part interview with fashion and all-around media powerhouse Joe Zee unpacked how the “7 Days Out” Netflix series got made, and how the NASA episode was the linchpin that made the rest possible. So guess what I’m watching now? Check out the podcast and let me know what you think.

February 2019: Black History Month

Not very often I commit to a single theme for a whole month of reading, and I’m not going to pretend like books written by and featuring stories about black people is a niche play. But this month I asked friends for recommendations, and I have a wonderful list of black authors (many new to me) to continue to explore long after this month is done.

Delicious Foods by James Hannaham. Based on the cover art, cover blurbs (“Sensational… You will devour this book”) and my own wildly inaccurate preconceptions, I thought I was going to be reading a completely different kind of a novel. I was prepared for some kind of multi-generational family drama where the foods they join together to eat symbolize the love, dysfunction, and shared stories that bind them. Delicious Foods is not that book. Hoo, boy! It actually took me a couple of chapters to let go of the novel I was in the mood for, which is entirely ridiculous and entirely on me. This novel, on the other hand, is told through the experiences of three main characters: Darlene, who becomes a young widow and mother to Eddie, whose teenage and young adulthood experiences are chronicled, and Scotty, which is actually the name that the drug crack prefers to go by when referring to itself. Yep, crack is one of the narrators, and his voice is a delight (addictive, even).

I’ve definitely not read a book like this one before. It’s a BIG MESSAGE allegory around modern slavery [(white) people with systemic  power (capitalism, racism, lack of opportunity) + coercive power (crack, fear) take extreme advantage (virtually enslave) the vulnerable (any black person who has lost the encircling protective shield of black community)]. But it reads with so more pleasure than that might imply because Mr. Hannaham has some serious storytelling chops and because Darlene is written with much depth and compassion, neither “crack whore” or “fallen angel.” I just reread these paragraphs and fully realize that based on these paragraphs you still have no clue what story the novel actually tells. Good. Read it for your own self! Just know, you’re not in for, like, The Joy Luck Club or Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe.

Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance by Barack Obama. Yes, I just finished reading this memoir for the first time in 2019. Don’t judge; there are a lot of books in the world. The reason I finally read it now is that it was a part of a juicy stack of books my wonderful aunt brought me at Christmas. (January’s The Reckoning was also part of this stack – more to come over the following months. I’m a lucky girl!) Reading this book almost a quarter century after its first publication, and more than a decade after its author was elected President of the United States, gave a lens of hindsight that informed my reading throughout.  

Raised by his white mom and grandparents in Hawaii, with his Kenyan dad a shadowy memory, young Barry seeks to discover self by learning about his father and his father’s homeland. The memoir is so deeply personal, and so irrevocably centred on race and racism, and so intent on peeling back the hypocrisy that lives deep within himself and each of us – and settles comfortably like a blanket over “peaceful” society. It’s painful and beautiful.

I mean, it kind of blows my mind that that this guy, this complex, nuanced thinker so local in his focus was able to, in a relatively short period of time, so get his act together to mount such a forceful and effective political career. There’s no sense, at least to me,  that he’s thinking of politics at this early stage in his life; unless, perhaps, making a larger mark as a truly “big man” is one of the dreams from his father that he holds in his heart from his first trip of discovery to Kenya. (Also, I get the swing in political parties but what still utterly, utterly baffles me: How did the US go from Barack Obama to Id in a skinbag as their leader in a single election? That question is rhetorical, by the way.)

Monster by Walter Dean Myers. I listened to this one on an audiobook with a full cast dramatization of the various parts, which was the version I accidentally downloaded from the library. (Turns out the new Libby app I have for my library makes it easy to read or to listen on my tablet.) I need to disclose that upfront as it may have changed how I experienced the narrative and maybe even how I understood the plot and characters. Monster’s 16 year-old protagonist, Steve Harmon, is on trial for murder, based on his alleged participation as lookout in a drugstore robbery where the store owner is killed. The book is structured as a screenplay written by Steve, telling of the trial, his experience in jail, events surrounding the robbery – all through his own point of view. To the reader (intended viewer), it seems apparent that Steve himself is struggling to come to grips with what has happened, and that he doesn’t fully understand how he has become so immersed in these events. Or is it that he does understands, but doesn’t take ownership of his own participation? Or that he has agency, but doesn’t care? Is he the monster that the prosecutor paints him to be? Or the very real, deeply sympathetic teenage boy that comes across on the surface of his script? Riveting.

I can just imagine how a really great high school English teacher could use this novel to engage motivated students in passionate classroom discussions. (I’m going to try to get my high school-aged kids to read it themselves. However, while they are both voracious readers, mom is not really their go-to for recos, so we’ll see if it takes.) I might let this one settle for a few months, then reread it for myself and see how my experience changes. Let me know what you think.  

The Illegal by Lawrence Hill. I’m not quite done this novel, but since it is so hard to put down I will be done within a day or two anyway and deem it close enough. Unless Mr. Hill royally messes up the last 20% or so of the story––which I’m confident won’t happen, given that it won Canada Reads in 2016, championed by Olympic Gold medalist and inspirational human Clara Hughes––I’m going to commit to recommending it. This novel takes place in the present day and focuses on a marathoner named Keita Ali, from the fictional poor island nation Zantoroland, who flees to the nearby island nation of Freedom State. Unfortunately, Freedom State only means freedom for those born there, well-documented, with money and of the right colour and ethnicity. There is no legal path to citizenship for anyone else. For refugees, illegals, like Keita capture means deportation and almost certainly death. Like Delicious Foods, The Illegal zooms in on one human being’s story to shine the searchlights on broader evils, using the most human of appeals (love, humour, compassion) to bring readers along for the journey.

On the Pod:

The Thrive Global Podcast with Arianna Huffington series features interviews between Ms. Huffington and various well-known people – Neil deGrasse Tyson, Malcolm Gladwell, Jennifer Aniston, to name a few; lady’s got serious access – about how they have made the decision to make their own health and well-being a priority and how they actually make it happen in their lives.

Recently I listened to the episode featuring Mellody Hobson, whom I admit I had not heard of but whose blurb described her as “president of Ariel Investments, vice-chair of the board at Starbucks, and one of the most successful women in business” – plus the wife of George Lucas. I didn’t know he was married, let alone to a for-real businesswoman. At any rate, I was intrigued and was rewarded.

Ms. Hobson, an African-American woman in her late forties, spoke openly of how the financial scarcity of her upbringing drives her motivation to succeed in finance and her need for stability and independence,  and continues to influence the anxiety that she lives with and manages. Ms. Hobson was also very candid about how she and her husband are trying to responsibly raise a privileged child who will grow up realistically wanting for nothing, but whom they hope will also grow up with gratitude and grace and a sense of responsibility in turn. And finally, she shared her philosophy about being “colour brave” as opposed to colour blind. We should see and appreciate and value colour. If we don’t see colour, we don’t notice the absence of colour either. An all-white board looks just fine in a colour-blind world. Great listening and learning.

January 2019: Welcome to the Polar Vortex

It was even cold in California when I was there mid-January. Not Polar cold, but rainy and decidedly chilly. All the better to cuddle up and read, of course.

Beyond the Truth: A Detective Byron Mystery by Bruce Robert Coffin. Well-written and gripping, this novel’s perspective offered a challenge for me. A believed-to-be-armed teenage robbery suspect is shot by a police officer who is then put on suspension during the investigation. The main protagonist is another police officer who seems to be the avatar of the author – a retired police officer himself ­– who struggles to understand why the general population has a hard time giving “the thin blue line” the benefit of the doubt in these troubling times when, from his view, he sees how hard his brother and sister officers try to make the right decisions. It was a code switch for me, and probably a good one to soak in for a bit. 

Running with a Police Escort by Jill Grunenwald. A runner’s memoir by a woman with a unique point of view: the back of the pack of most of the races she runs. She’s a big lady, she hated physical activity as a kid, and she only took up running out of health concerns. But somehow it clicked, and she found her motivation. She refers to herself as a tortoise and she’s all about making it to the finish, and getting that blingy finisher’s medal at the end, not about speed. This personal, chatty book talks about finding and keeping that perspective.

Late Show by Michael Connolly. The first novel with a brand new protagonist in more than a decade from Connolly, The Late Show introduces Detective Renee Ballard. I didn’t know how it was going to go: could this author really write a female character that wouldn’t make me roll my eyes (and I was ready to)? Turns out I quite enjoy Ballard. She’s out there and over the top like I’d expect from a Connolly character, in just the right tough, kickass woman who knows what she’s doing way that demonstrates she’s created from a place of deep respect and admiration. Plus a pile of interesting secondary and tertiary characters that we know will develop in future and a hint that old faves (Bosch anyone?) may pop by sometime too. 

Killers of the Flower Moon: The Osage Murders and the Birth of the FBI by David Grann. Holy smokes, I had not a glimmering of an idea about this grim chapter in the history of the US. I’m sure most Americans don’t, so I don’t know why a Canadian like me would but wow. So much evil and so embedded in the dominant culture across generations. (I’m hearing a resounding “duh!” from First Nations and Aboriginal people everywhere even as I type - I know, I know! I am trying to be more aware…) It’s a gripping page turner and seems very well-researched., Many questions will likely never be answered including just how many of the Osage people were deliberately murdered for their headrights and by whom exactly, but a fascinating real-life mystery and piece of history to learn.

The Reckoning by John Grisham. I think Grisham really wanted to write the non-fiction recounting of the horrific Bataan Death March that he had always wanted to read and realized that’s not what his fans expected of him so instead wrote The Reckoning. The novel opens with the murder committed by Pete Banning, a decorated war hero – and Death March survivor ­– of his hometown pastor, for no motive he’ll share with anyone. The characters, and in particular Banning, are all curiously without much distinctive character. For several chapters, I wondered who the main protagonist actually was. There’s simply no emotional centre to the novel. When I arrived at the many chapters detailing the events in the Philippines during the Second World War, I realized the purpose of the novel. Your mileage may vary, but my recommendation would be to seek out better Grisham novels for the Grisham novel experience and perhaps use Grisham’s sources in the bibliography to learn more about American POWs after the Battle of Bataan.  

On the Pod:

Double Love: The Sweet Valley High Podcast has made me laugh out loud by myself while driving. That’s pretty terrific. If you don’t immediately remember the endless series of ridiculous 1980’s and 90’s YA books about the equally ridiculous Wakefield twins, Elizabeth and Jessica, this podcast likely is not for you. Its premise is simple as told in the tagline: “Exploring the terrifying world of Sweet Valley High, one book at a time.” Two Irish friends — I’m guessing of a similar vintage to me — recapping the books and wholeheartedly discussing the plots, dialogue, outfits (oh, the outfits!) and culture through the duel lenses of their formerly tween/teen selves and now as grown women with a more feminist and worldly perspective. It is withering and frequently hysterical. I’m only a few episodes in so I’m confident there are many lavaliers and laughs to come.

October, November, December 2018: A lot of miles across these pages

Lots of travel this quarter, so seems like a lot of these pages were turned on planes. Much of it was for business but there was one trip down home to Nova Scotia because a very dear, very loved uncle passed away. Plenty of tears and hugs and laughter and tea and squares.

The photo above is one I snapped on that trip. It’s the boring everyday view from my cousin’s brother-in-law’s camp, which is an easy 5 minute winding drive through the woods from my cousin’s home. Gorgeous, right?

Anyway, on to the books. I didn’t write commentary for any but the one I need to warn you against. Oh, and the one I read for work. Assume they are perfectly enjoyable if I didn’t blurb otherwise. What can I say? There were deadlines and pressures and squares to eat! I feel like I’m missing a couple, but here’s what I have in my brain or my notes at the moment…

My Favorite Husband by Pam McCutcheon. Here’s the thing: I have a compulsion to finish the books I start. I hate leaving books half-read and have seldom done so. The crapitude of this book, however, broke me. Maybe it gets really, really good after the first few chapters? I’ll never know.

The Devil Died At Midnight by Cheryl Bradshaw.

Live and Let Chai by Bree Baker.

The Art of Client Service: The Classic Guide, Updated for Today's Marketers and Advertisers by Robert Solomon. Okay yes, this one is an outlier on my list. It’s for work, but read on my own time so here it is. It’s actually the second time around for me reading it; this is a new updated edition. Many hard-learned lessons in this book from an industry veteran. I’d highly recommend it if you’re in marketing to get great advice or if you’re considering the field in just about any capacity to get a feel for the culture.

The Swap by Nancy Boyarsky.

A Death at the Yoga Café by Michelle Kelly.

Killer Green Tomatoes by Lynn Cahoon.

Midnight Snacks Are Murder by Libby Klein.

New Corpse in Town by Lucy Quinn.

Stabbed in the Baklava by Tina Kashian.

Dim Sum of All Fears: A Noodle Shop Mystery by Vivien Chien.

Forever Fudge by Nancy Coco.

The Walking Bread by Winnie Archer.

September 2018: Shifting seasons slows the reading

Macbeth by Jo Nesbø. You don’t need to have a good handle on the Shakespeare play to enjoy this adaptation set in a 1970s Nordic city beset by drugs and corruption at every level. In fact, knowing the play and its characters gives hints at spoilers that otherwise might come out of the blue. Either way, it’s a page turner. If you’ve read Nesbø before, you know he crafts a tight narrative, and he’s unsentimental about his characters. Don’t read it when you need a nice light snack. Remember, Macbeth is a magnificent tragedy.  

Planet Funny: How Comedy Took Over Our Culture by Ken Jennings. A sweeping survey as promised in the subhead, this highly researched book is well-served by the author’s first person inclusion of self in the narrative. He cites academic sources as well as many interviews with comedians, comic writers and so on, but it never feels like an academic treatise, more like a voyage of discovery. It was a fascinating read, made even more enjoyable by the natural inclusion of many humourous “bits” and jokes as illustration along the way. Jennings and I are close age contemporaries and, as I reflected, his observations for the most part seemed very astute to me. I’d be interested to hear how they resonate with people significantly younger or older.  

Someday, Someday, Maybe by Lauren Graham. This not-memoir novel nevertheless feels like it has been written by someone who lived it or something like it. The story follows the insecure and endearing main character, Franny, as she faces the last six months of her self-imposed deadline to make real progress on her goal to become an actual self-supporting working actress in New York. I only know Lauren Graham from Gilmore Girls, and I thought she was in Weeds, but turns out that was a different actor, so there you go – I don’t qualify as a fangirl. I didn’t come into this book with expectations of any sort, and I really very much enjoyed it. I’ll be looking for other books by this author.

On the pod:

Stay Tuned with Preet has been my go-to podcast of late to help stay at least somewhat cognizant of what’s going on in the current gong show of U.S. politics. Preet Bharara is the former U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York, and he and his equally insider-y guests do an excellent job of tracking the twisty and knotted threads in the crazy quilt being constructed, ripped apart, and patched in new ways seemingly every week across our southern border.

August 2018: Sun's shining, I've got a pile of books, life is grand

His Majesty’s Dragon by Naomi Novik. If you love the premise of a realistic historic novel of the Napoleonic Wars from the perspective of a former Royal Navy captain now dragon aviator (because this reality includes dragons), you really need to read this book. If the premise makes you raise an eyebrow, you should probably read it anyway, because the story is really excellent. Book 1 of the Temoraire trilogy, it introduces a memorable cast of characters, including the dragon for whom the series is named.  I’ve already bought the trilogy; the only question is whether I can pace myself without gobbling them all down this month.  

Escape by Carolyn Jessop and Laura Palmer. A memoir that’s both riveting and revolting at the same time, this book reveals life for a woman born and raised in Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (FLDS), an off-shoot of the Mormon church that permits and celebrates polygamy. Holy smokes, crazy pants, backward, scary!  I mean, seriously, this is beyond whacked out. And so many layers of people in power just turning a blind eye or actively enabling abuse. Carolyn Jessop’s story of coming to a new perspective on her religion and finding the courage to fight back then leave the FLDS is fascinating.

Nocturne for a Widow by Amanda deWees. Meant to be a mystery, apparently, but the eyerolly star-crossed I hate you-I hate you-I love you “romance” is really at centre stage in this novel. Every worn-out trope of historical romance – with a dash of the supernatural – is covered here; what could possibly be left for future episodes after this, the first of the Sybil Ingram Victorian Mysteries series? Who’s kidding whom, I’m not planning to find out.

A Match Made in Spell by ReGina Welling and Erin Lynn. This one I enjoyed. Light and fluffy and not pretending to be otherwise, this novel tells the story of assorted witches, four faeries, a half faery, and assorted other magical beings in the human world, which definitely needs some magic. It focuses on Lexi Balefire, a half-witch who, though she hasn’t uncovered any particularly magical abilities yet, does seem to have quite a flair for human match-making. A thoroughly charming (see what I did there?) summer read.

A Wild Sheep Chase by Haruki Murakami. This read is much less fluffy than the novel above though it does deal in sheep as a symbolic motif. (Knocking the puns out of the park!) Having only read iQ84 by Murakami previously, I honestly wasn’t sure what I was getting into here.  While not fluffy, it’s not dense either – rather, it’s a kind of thriller infused with elements of magical realism. The main character coasts along, not the “hero” of his own story, though he is the protagonist. He’s a mediocre man, in his own self-assessment and in appearance and behaviour. The story itself is fascinating, and the relationship Murakami creates between reader and protagonist, and protagonist and other characters, creates an interesting experience for the reader – in addition to the delightful weirdness of the language and plot.

His Bloody Project: Documents Relating to the Case of Roderick Macraeby Graeme MaCrae Burnet. The concept is quite clever and very convincingly executed: the author, when researching his Highland Scots ancestors, supposedly came across a trove of documents. He compiles and organizes them, and ta da, here lies a grim and fascinating record of the murder of a man, his teen daughter and toddler son and the subsequent trial. At the centre is the chilling personal diary of the 17-year-old accused murderer. That it’s all pure fiction makes it a tour de force of imagination and talent.

Touch by Claire North. Imagine that some human spirits  or souls or ghosts, call them what you will, are not bound to a single body. By physical skin-to-skin contact, the ghost can leave one body, and its bewildered previous inhabitant – who has no idea where they’ve been or what has been happening to their body – behind, and take control of the next. Fascinating premise. Throughout the novel, stories of the main character’s history were sprinkled here and there almost as if they were being sneaked in. I wondered if the author had stories to tell, while the editor was saying, “More action! More drama!” Well, I wanted the stories. I would really like the author to take another run at this premise, but without the need to make it a shoot ‘em up Hollywood blockbuster-in-waiting. If you haven’t read Claire North before, I would suggest starting with The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August because it is wonderful.

The Princess Diarist by Carrie Fisher. Oh Carrie… Sigh. Well, this was a melancholy read but only because of the context.  I very much enjoyed reading this slice of life from the 19 year old Carrie’s diaries as reflected on by the much-older but never world-weary Carrie 5 nearly decades later. She was a vibrant, wise-ish, wiseass voice, and I don’t think it was her intention – or maybe it was –  but I think Harrison Ford was a bit of a tool. So there. #teamcarrie #generalorgana

Poisoned Pages by Lorna Barrett. It’s a cozy about a mystery bookstore owner in a book-themed themed small town who finds herself in the middle of murders that she then takes it upon herself to solve. There’s a cat, a police officer ex-boyfriend, a sister with secrets, and some recipes. A couple of side characters break the mould of usual suspects a bit: ex-hooker/ex-con who works in the book shop and a porn shop owner who starts dating the main character. Huh, right? Did anticipate that. If you like to kick back and just purely relax with a book now and again, this one will fit the bill nicely.

On the pod:

Missing & Murdered: Finding Cleo Season 2 of the CBC Missing & Murdered podcast series focuses on the story of one Cree family's search for their missing sister, Cleo. All six siblings were taken from their home, separated, and adopted out to white families: Cleo to a family in the US. Back in the 1970s, this breaking up of indigenous families was common. It's now called the Sixties Scoop, but most Canadians know very little it nor about the residential school nightmares that traumatized the preceding generations of First Nations peoples. Unlike many, many "cold cases" Cleo's family actually do get the answers they seek in this podcast. They find Cleo. The detective work is quite remarkable. Along the way, we learn about each of the siblings as well.  

I've been trying to decrease my ignorance about this incredibly ugly seam of Canadian reality. (My family's history in Canada goes back to the 1680s, which I used to be purely proud of. Now my feelings are a little more fraught, but hey, it's really not about me.) Stories like Cleo's and others really foreground what I am learning about as current human rights issues - not history. Season 1 of Missing & Murdered focuses on Alberta Williams, a First Nations woman whose murder has not yet been solved, and episodes discuss the residential school history of various family members when relevant. Really fantastic podcast with, not surprisingly, sky-high production values. 

July 2018: A nice mix of summer books

The Mauritius Command (Book 4) by Patrick O’Brian. In this episode of the historical fiction series, the focus is very much on Lucky Jack Aubrey as a through-going Navy leader. Very little of the romantical stuff. I feel like O’Brian’s dude-bro readers were like “more cannons!, less chick-stuff!” after the last novel. I’m sure they were pleased. I’m not damning with faint praise though; I enjoyed it too. I do like me some longing looks and fluttering hearts, but between KiIlick and the “last of the true short French bastards” and a drowned baby (a type of pudding!), there was plenty to keep me amused.    

The Girl From Long Guyland by Lara Reznik. The blurb describes it as “Memoir meets Thriller.” It’s an entertaining book, but I wouldn’t call it a thriller as the reader is more clued into what’s going on than the protagonist. It’s told in the first person by Laila, the “girl” of the title, in chapters that flip between present day Laila – a long-married IT professional with grown children – and wanna-be-hippie, student Laila, who gets way in over her head with an older, rougher crowd. I think the tension in the book probably would have been better served by some judicious editing of the present day layers of drama that take the plot over the top and makes it seems like Laila has perhaps grown chronologically and in the trappings of maturity but not not so much otherwise. 

The Seven Steps to Closure by Donna Joy Usher. If you loved Bridget Jones back in the day – and I did – you are bound to enjoy Tara Babcock and her quest to recover from the end of her marriage. The novel opens a year after her husband has left her, so it’s not like she’s rushing into anything. Her friends find a Cosmo article about the seven steps to closure and insist it’s time she follows them. Light, fluffy, fun and (almost) completely inoffensive, it's an excellent vacation read. 

Serial Date: A Leine Basso Thriller (Book 1) by DV Berkom. Here’s an actual thriller with a female protagonist in the dudely mould of like, I don’t know, Jack Reacher or Hieronymous Bosch. Will keep you turning pages, and you won’t roll your eyes.

Hushabye: A Kate Redman Mystery by Celina Grace. A murdered nanny and the baby is gone. Was it a creepy stranger? Someone in the family? Motivated by revenge? I was hooked from the first page and powered through in a day. Another excellent vacation read.

The Man in the High Castle by Philip K. Dick. Masterful. Why didn’t I know about this novel before there was an Amazon Prime series? I had watched one episode of the series and didn’t get it at all. At the time, I realized it was probably not a knit-and-watch, requiring more attention than I was willing to give. Having now read the novel, I’m looking forward to viewing the series to see how they could have possible attempted to captured its intricacy. It’s a great read. I just finished, and I want to reread because I know I missed layers. I’m also deeply aware that it was written almost 60 years in a very different cultural context. So intriguing, and I’m going to have to dig in to learn more.

Anathem by Neil Stephenson. For most of this year, I probably wouldn’t have even attempted this novel. As it was, I had to get my  courage up before I tackled it. It’s big, has lots of coined words (but linguistically sensible ones to English speakers), and takes place in a world like ours but most definitely not ours. Stephenson has built an entire universe, cosmology, history… and manages to explicate much of this thinking throughout the novel. Yes, daunting. But it’s also a page turner adventure story with fighting shaven-headed-ninja-monk-types, magic, a love interest, best friends, nuclear waste, a dinosaur skeleton, and a bottomless pit. Believe me, none of those details are spoilers. You should probably just read this book. When you do, could you explain the dinosaur skeleton part? I didn’t really get that. Thanks. 

The Vanity Fair Diaries: 1983–1992 by Tina Brown. These diaries showcase an interesting, intense, fiercely bright woman capturing her interior monologue from the racing pulse of an absolutely manic period of American culture. Her British outsider’s take ensures she has a much broader perspective than many of the “Masters of the Universe” and other icons she rubs shoulders with. These diaries cover Ms. Brown’s editorship of Vanity Fair after its precarious relaunch to its glory days. The inner look at the machinations of a brilliant editor and the boldface names (Kissinger, Madonna, Calvin Klein, Trump, the Reagans, Dominick Dunne....) that are all in a day’s work – or an evening’s socializing – are fascinating; more intriguing still to me is the personal side she reveals. Each generation of “having it all” women with careers must lay tracks for the women (and men) we work with to ensure that career success and family success are not competing goals.

On the pod:

Series: Revisionist History, a podcast from Malcolm Gladwell, who grew up in Elmira of all places, just down the road from My Little Corner in Waterloo.  East episode of Revisionist History reinterprets something from the past: an event, a person, an idea. "Because sometimes the past deserves a second chance." With three seasons of ten episodes each, there's yet to be an actual dud in my opinion. But several have really opened my eyes to some interesting ideas. 

As a tasting menu, might I suggest:

• Season 1: Episode 10 - The Satire Paradox
• Season 2: Episode 3  – Miss Buchanan's Period of Adjustment
• Season 3: Episode 2 – Burden of Proof

June 2018: Hypothesis seems sound; I believe I AM solar-powered

Seriously, everything is so much better when the sun is shining. Just for example, it's barely July and here's June's post shined up and ready to go. Have a great month, eh! Let me know if there's anything I absolutely must read this summer! Also, for funsies, I am going to start including the podcasts I've particularly enjoyed each month or that I find particularly share-worthy for whatever reason. I'll add them at the end. Okay, books first!

The Cat’s Table by Michael Ondaatje. Thoroughly enjoyed this book. I could never really buy how hard The English Patient was lauded; I mean, it was good but the praise was so over the top. But this novel was so charming and read as so genuine, I really believed I was entranced by a memoir. I am won over. 

HMS Surprise: Book 3 by Patrick O’Brian. Love.

Lying ­­by Sam Harris. I was surprised when I found out after reading this that Sam Harris has actually published quite a bit. It reads like a term paper for a bright undergrad who hero worshipped the prof and really, really paid attention in class.

Hillbilly Elegy by J.D. Vance. This is one of the most fascinating memoirs I’ve ever read, and dude is barely 30 years old. He’s a self-described hillbilly from a long line of hillbillies, and he’s also a Yale-educated lawyer. People who combine those attributes are thin on the ground, and this memoir is basically his deep-dive into his family history, childhood, and socio-economic background; US social norms; the broader culture; and US history to begin to explore why that is. He also asks why families like his, and people with childhoods like his, tend not to be on any kind of upward trajectory – unlike most other historically disadvantaged peoples in the United States. It’s absolutely riveting.  

Carbs and Cadavers by Ellery Adams. Fun! Haven’t read a cozy for a while, so I was due. The first in a series about five small town dieters including a librarian, a wannabe cop, a postal carrier, a hippie-type pet groomer – hmmmm, what’s the cliché I’m missing, can’t think of it, probably like a gardener or something – who form a low-carb supper club and solve crimes (natch), this book is actually pretty darn delightful. I probably wouldn't say that if I was coming off a run of a bunch of light stuff, but it definitely hit the spot. (The fifth character was a teacher! Seems like a dupe, given that the librarian is a former prof. I think the author should have stretched herself a little… oh well, I forgive.)

Disorganized Crime – This book, no kidding, made me actually giggle out loud in a couple of spots. I know, weird. It was really off-the-wall and entertaining but didn’t push too far into try-hard territory. The quick plot sketch is that a woman discovers her father has been kidnapped, then finds herself very soon to be kidnapped as well. Except in her case, she’s been kidnapped by her father’s Greek family who, until now, have been kept completely unknown to her by her dad, which as she discovers has been for good reasons. The plot, characters and set-up of this novel are completely nuts. I look forward to reading the next in the series.

Repo Madness by W.  Bruce Cameron. Another entertaining and rather wacky book to close out the month. I was determined not to be tardy with my book post for a nice change, so as I was nearing the end of the novel I starting thinking, “huh, how am I going to describe this?” And then in the very last paragraph, the protagonist Ruddy McCann sums himself up so nicely for me: “I was a repo man with a voice in his head. I had a dog, a fiancée, a pregnant sister, friends, and legal problems.” You pretty much learn all that within the first few pages and hijinks ensue.

On the pod:

Series: You Must Remember This, a "podcast about the secret and/or forgotten histories of Hollywood’s first century." The podcast is written, narrated, recorded, and edited by Karina Longworth after an exhaustive amount of research. Ms. Longworth has a tremendous ability to string a tight and coherent narrative together that adheres tightly to a theme: in a Q&A I listened to she explained that's how she keeps these epic lives contained to pod sizes – while remaining fascinating and still feeling well, epic.    

March through May 2018: Whoa, where did Spring go?

March came in like a lion and left like an asshole. April was also consistently fairly chilly and unpleasant. Throughout this period, I was also feeling fairly cranky and sluggish, and it showed. I'd like to think I faked my way through but I'm not a good faker. Let's just say, I probably should have spent more time with books and less with humans, and my family and peers would no doubt agree.

Ah well. May perked up weatherwise, and so did I. I am most definitely solar powered. All that said, herewith, the list of books I read during that time:

• Edge of Eternity: Book Three of the Century Trilogy – Ken Follett
• The Murder Book – Jane A. Adams
• Blacklist – Sara Paretsky
• Y is for Yesterday – Sue Grafton
• Master and Commander (Book 1) ­­– Patrick O’Brian
• Treacherous Paradise – Henning Mankell
• Fallout – Sara Paretsky
• Fahrenheit 451 – Ray Bradbury
• Beastly Things – Donna Leon
• Post Captain (Book 2) – Patrick O’Brian

No reviews. That level of ambition might take until November, then we'd be back in a no-sun cycle so who knows what would happen? I'll just say no real clunkers in this batch and a couple of gems. (Love the O'Brian Aubrey–Maturin series. If you've never read them, you really must. You'll see that I've restarted the series for the second, possibly third time. Love.) I may have left off one or two books from this list, and if so probably just as well. I've likely forgotten them for a reason.

I am keeping an ongoing list of June books (plus, sunshine), so I hope I'll be more prompt over the summer. Wish me luck! 

February 2018: Picking up speed now

All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr. When a novel has won the Pulitzer Prize, my esteem probably doesn't add much of a notch in the author's belt but Mr. Doerr can consider his belt notched. This book is just lovely. Lovely. I worried about the characters when I put it down. I mean, in a novel about a blind teenage girl and a young German soldier whose stories eventually intertwine in Nazi-occupied France, everyone is probably not going to be okay in the end. Oh, and there is a cursed jewel. And spies, and codes. Did I mention Nazis?

The physical descriptions, often through the senses of the blind Marie-Laure, convey her world brilliantly. Young Werner, the soldier, who we meet with his sister as children in an orphanage, is equally compelling. I'm not sure how to categorize this novel. Historical literary fiction – magical realism?  Read it and let me know what you think. Also the thing with the snails. Did that mean something in particular, like symbolically...?

Conclave by Robert Harris. Not by the guy who wrote Silence of the Lambs, just to get that out of the way. That's Thomas Harris. I was under that misapprehension for the first several pages I'll be honest, and it was kind of confusing. I kept expecting the pope's death to be the thing the book was about, but no, the pope's death was simply the catalyst for the conclave. As in the title of the book. Duh. Let's just say I've been pretty tired by bedtime lately so haven't had a lot of intellectual fuel left in the tank for cracking the really tough mysteries... Anyhow, this novel was not really a mystery in itself though there were several sort-of mystery subplots, most of which turned out to be red herrings. 

Since I seem to want to label genres this month, I guess I'd call this novel a papal procedural. And it's amazingly gripping. Honestly, it was a page turner. I would not have anticipated that! A conclave is the process by the cardinals to elect a new pope, and it is done in absolute secrecy. This novel provides what seemed to me to be a realistic window into age-old procedures, base human politicking, and sincere search for the divine. Fascinating. Many plot twists, with a particularly big one at the end. Maybe over the top, but it was a good ride.   

The Wrong Side of Goodbye by Michael Connelly. Generally speaking, can't go wrong with a Harry Bosch novel. In this one, Harry has retired from the LAPD and is working as a private detective, while also picking up shifts in the understaffed small town San Fernando police department. His half brother Mickey Haller (aka "The Lincoln Lawyer") makes an appearance, but fortunately Connelly doesn't get carried away with the cuteness as he sometimes does with Haller. 

There's an old guy billionaire, a search for an heir, a fountain pen, DNA, some corporate shenanigans, a serial rapist, a Vietnam connection, and some interesting new cop characters added to the Bosch world. Harry's balancing act between his private work and cop work adds to the interest because he's supposed to keep them separate. Of course, he's not great at following rules, and of course it adds to the drama all around. I don't imagine this entry is actually goodbye for Hieronymous, but if it was, it wouldn't be a bad way to go.

You may be wondering... is Frances reading what Canada Reads? I AM NOT. I just couldn't be arsed. Maybe next year. 

January 2018: Thinky thinky books to start the year

Two books! That's all I managed in January. My reading was as slow as the idiomatic molasses. I'd like to blame the first book on the roster as it was a bit of a slog for me, but I think my brain was also stuck in first gear. S'okay though. We all got through it, right? 

Believe Me: A Memoir of Love, Death, and Jazz Chickens by Eddie Izzard. You might think that a memoir by an absurdist comedian-actor ("covered in bees!") who labels himself an "action transvestite" and who shares that the death of his mother when he was a small boy has been the prime mover behind many of his decisions would be a rich tapestry of emotions. You might think the author would delve deep to mine his motivations and examine his inner life. You might think that but, in this case, you'd be wrong.

For a memoir, Believe Me is strangely devoid of any emotional momentum. It's more of an accounting of how Eddie got from there to here and the decisions he made along the way, rather than an exploration. Turns out he's not much of a story teller when the subject is him. I plowed through because I thought there had to be a there there somewhere. But not so much. I can't even remember what the Jazz Chickens referenced, if you want to know the truth of the matter.  At any rate, I shall continue to treasure his stand up and plan to discover his acting roles. But thanks for the memoirs, Mr Izzard, I'm full. 

Word by Word: The Secret Life of Dictionaries by Kory Stamper. This book was a Christmas gift from Dave and further proof that this guy really gets me. Now, I'll tell you right now, this book is not for everyone, but it is very much for me – I enjoyed every phrase and every page. Kory Stamper is an editor at Merriam-Webster dictionary and, more than that, she is a fan girl of the deeply weird and wonderful English language and a gifted writer. 

Stamper takes her readers on a tour of how words make it into the dictionary and how the definitions are written, from the inside of the publishing process. Sounds dry perhaps, but the author's wit and insight and ability to weave in culturally relevant observations add up to an absolutely fascinating read. And when she dives in to the evolving meaning of words themselves, my sprachgefühl (a borrowed-from-German word I learned from Stamper that means an intuitive sense for what is linguistically appropriate) listened intently, skittered around with delight, and occasionally stood right up and cheered.  I learned a lot from this read, and I also gloried in it. Amazing that a dictionary editor - a person paid to stick to just the facts ma'am - has such a delightful writing voice. Word by Word is her first book; I hope it's the first of many. 

On another note, Canada Reads is on again.

I don't know if I can do it this year. I'm still mildly traumatized by the utter nonsense of last year... but I do love when people publicly get excited about books. I don't know.  Here's the short list: 

• The Boat People by Sharon Bala
• American War by Omar El Akkad
• Precious Cargo by Craig Davidson
• Forgiveness by Mark Sakamoto
• The Marrow Thieves by Cherie Dimaline

(We all know I'm probably buying these books before the weekend is out, right?)

December 2017: Seeing out the year in style

Bucky F*cking Dent by David Duchovny. This book's quirky title called to me from the library shelf. Then, I noticed the author name. Yes, it IS that David Duchovny. I admit I immediately flipped to the inside back jacket author photo to verify. Then I read the front inside blurb, which sounded interesting enough so with me it came. It took me a few chapters to really get into, but then I was hooked. Turns out, Duchovny has crafted a father–son relationship story with a lot of heart and richness that I really enjoyed – plus I learned who Bucky Dent was.

Foul Deeds by Linda Moore. A fast-paced action/detective/murder mystery set in Halifax, this novel also has the added charm (for me at least) of its protagonist being a script coach for a volunteer theatre production of Hamlet. As she unpacks some of the dense language for the actors, she also unravels some convoluted information that becomes important in the case she's working on. It makes for an enjoyable layer to the story. There's quite a lot packed into this novel, and I'd like to read more of these characters. There is a sequel, s I'll have to track down a copy sometime.

Cyrano de Bergerac by Edmond Rostand. Though written in 1897, this play takes place roughly 150 years prior very, very loosely based on the life of the real Cyrano de Bergerac. Some day, I want to see it staged, because the stage directions and stage business are written so elaborately that I simply can't imagine how it could be executed as written – especially in the days before a full-on helicopter or what have you would be used on a Broadway stage. Anyway! The play made me laugh and I fully enjoyed it. I just looked up any movie adaptions. The Gerard Depardieu version from 1990 gets 100% fresh rating from critics on Rotten Tomatoes. Wow. That might be worth watching. But I still want to see it on stage!

Recipes for Love and Murder: A Tannie Maria Mystery by Sally Andrew. I was super-charmed by this novel. Set in rural South Africa, it's a bit of a mystery crossed with a romance and a comedy and a cookbook and a travelogue. The main character is Maria, called Tannie – the Afrikaaner term meaning "aunt" and denoting respect for an older lady – by her friends and neighbours, who writes a recipe column for the local paper. With budget cuts, she soon needs to expand it to be both an advice and recipe column. The combination, like everything in this novel, is a delight. It really gives quite a wonderful impression of South Africa. 

Born a Crime by Trevor Noah. Then along comes Trevor Noah as quite the antidote to the feel-good bubble of the previous novel. His book offers a series of personal memoir-ish essays of his life growing up in South Africa as the child of a black mother and white father, when interracial sexual relationships were illegal. His birth, as the title indicates, was evidence of a crime. Each chapter is a self-contained story, jumping back and forth through time, some seemingly (slightly) contradicting others. They feel very much like the products of an individual's memory and perspective. Fascinating, sometimes funny, heartbreaking, frequently horrifying. South Africa under Apartheid was shameful. South Africa in the years following Apartheid was utterly broken. The stories Noah tells in this book are all about his childhood and young adulthood. I hope someday he chooses to write about the journey from there to where he is now. If it's half as fascinating as his childhood, it will be a page turner. (Although for his sake, I hope it's been a lot more boring.)

 

November 2017: Books for the gloaming of a year

I started this month at an epic scale and ended with the warm bubble bath of a couple of pretty decent cozies. Not a bad balancing act by me, I would say. 

Winter of the World: Book 2 of the Century Trilogy by Ken Follett. I think I mentioned after the first book that I am making the decision to pace myself with this trilogy. It's really so good that I don't want to run through it too quickly. The other factor is that the twentieth century had some epically grim chapters of human history. Ken Follett skillfully paints these sweeping historical events at a human scale, making them real in a way that facts and figures and historical tomes don't quite convey. At any rate, I don't feel compelled to chew through these stories in quite the same way as I do pure fiction. These stories demand respect and reflection.  

The Unquiet Grave by Sharyn McCrumb. A modern master of the Southern gothic, McCrumb tells the story of the real people and real events behind folk tales and traditional folk songs. This evocative Appalachian ballad novel recounts the origins of the "Greenbrier Ghost," a young woman killed just months after her marriage who subsequently appears to her mother to seek justice.  Unlike the Tom Dooley story, this one hadn't been familiar to me before reading. No matter, perhaps even better in some ways. I appreciate as well that the author recounts her historic fact finding in an afterword, so it becomes abundantly clear which elements are historical, which are part of the legend, and which are demanded for a smooth story. 

To Helvetica and Back by Paige Shelton. This cozy creates a world that I'd love to live in: a typewriter repair shop plus stationery store run by a grandfather and granddaughter in fictional Star City, Utah. Sure, there are lots of the usual conventions – plucky independent single heroine and a sagacious cat, for a couple – but it avoids the really hacky cliches that tend to irritate me in the genre. Or perhaps I've regained a little more tolerance. Either way, I'll continue to look for other reads by this author when I'm looking for a nice light snack.  

Pride v Prejudice by Joan Hess. Not sure where the title comes from for this fun cozy, but Hess never disappoints in terms of an enjoyable, humorous read. Bubble bath for the November-worn soul.

Day Shift by Charlaine Harris. I believe this is the second novel about the denizens of the fictional, weird, tiny hamlet of Midnight, Texas – at least it's the second for me. The first one felt like a TV pilot episode where you see the potential and feel excited for where it could go, but it's not quite there yet and you know it could easily go off the rails. Happily, this cast of characters seems to be finding their feet nicely. There's even some character crossover from Harris' previous Sookie Stackhouse  series, which, as my extensive Laverne & Shirley + Happy Days experience as a child tells me could be a delight in small doses. While I'm not rushing to buy the next instalment of these series, I'll certainly snatch it off a library shelf with a quickness.