A New Juliet

I don't like Juliet Capulet.  

There, I said it. 

I want to, but I don't like her.  Also, her name rhymes. 

That girl whiiiiines.  And she is needy.  And spoiled.  And a bit dense at communicating.  I know, star-crossed lovers, destiny, missed opportunities, true love, blah blah blah.  But couldn't she just be a bit more awesome in the process a little less, well...Juliet-ish?  C'mon kid.  Step up.  And MAKE SURE THE GUY KNOWS YOU ARE GOING TO DRINK SLEEPING DRUG. 

And...awkward internet silence.  

Sorry 'bout that.  I just don't love her.  

Also -- great cover.  

So when I read The Juliet Stories by Carrie Snyder, I actually started in really, really hoping that it would have nothing to do with Shakespeare's teenage concoction.  Thankfully, our little 10 year old protagonist was nothing like her Elizabethan counterpart and was a fabulously real, growing girl.  Struggling through the turbulent political and personal settings her parents fling her into, Juliet's stories are experiences of seeing people and their short-comings over and over again.  She learns, as we all do, that life is hard, that we are often only getting glimpses into people and that no one, not even our parents, are perfect.  But more than that, she learns how she will react and how she will hold her own story together.

The writing itself is a dance.  The moments are simple and complex, hot and cold, sticky and clean. Snyder moves you through time and place with an ease that is almost elusive -- I felt like I was trailing behind Juliet for the whole book, like I was along for the ride of her every day.  Snyder tells her story through moments: you are rarely hearing about big pieces of plot movement outside of Juliet experiencing them or simplying naming them.  The moments tell the story, lend pieces to a puzzle that you work out as you go.  Not everything is offered up front, but you get enough.  This book was a good reminder of how limited anyone's perspective is, including our own; no matter how much we want to think we 'get' things, we simply only see what we can see. 

I absorbed this book -- really, it absorbed me.  I felt like I wanted to keep holding it, get closer, read it again.  It was a quick read -- not too long or too dense, but so very, very full.  

I recommend it wholeheartedly.  So if you look for it check out your local, independent bookstore, ideally (mine is www.wordsworthbooks.com).  The author is from my hometown, so I was happy to support her and local business in the process.  

Read on, friends!

Why I love Graphic Novels

Oh, the graphic novel.  All of a sudden, a few years back, these came across my radar.  In my naivety, I scoffed--pictures?  comics?  Who needs those?  I like the pictures I create in my head; slowly building up the details as the author paints a word picture.  I'm a reader, I don't need pictures!  Then again, I've been wrong before.  

After all a picture is worth a thousand words.  Especially a good, provocative picture.  Then it is worth a million words (or maybe more).  Graphic novels can go to deep places quickly, because the pictures can move with a speed words cannot. It might not take long to read, but this genre leaves a lasting impression.  

My first graphic novel came from Canada Reads 2011:  Essex County.  I read it as I decided to read all the books but was the least familiar with the style and content of Jeff Lemire's work.  Turns out, it was gripping.  Great story, interesting pictures, heartfelt.  I really enjoyed it.  But I still felt 'out of touch' with the world of graphic novels.  How does one even begin to engage a whole new kind of book.  My limited, incorrect definition of comics (Saturday mornings, super heroes, or Japanese anime) crippled me when I walked into the section.  I hardly knew where to start.  I really liked reading Essex County, but then what?  

 

Recently I came across Jerusalem: Chronicles from the Holy City by Guy Delisle (from CBC Book's Summer Reading List).  Also a graphic novel, I was excited to dig in.  And while Essex County was heartfelt, Jerusalem was heart wrenching.  With a wit that transcends his pictures and a poignant eye that notices truth in little moments, Delisle's take on the people, the realities and the challenges of life in the Holy Land fascinated me.  Delisle's story follows his year there with his wife (works with MSF/Doctors without Borders) and children, showing aspects of daily life (like finding a good playground) and big moments (like living through bombings).  He provides lots of simplified background information so that his vignettes are accessible even if you aren't familiar with Middle East relations.  Absolutely challenging subject matter.  But this book is a great way to start engaging with a reality that ought not be ignored. 

Both graphic novels I have read opened my eyes to the beauty of the genre and to the emotions, truths and moments which pictures can convey better than words.  I'm on the hunt for more (probably going to check out Delisle's other books).  Any suggestions? 

The Wild West, Frontier America and Some Sisters Brothers

 Wild West might be an exaggeration -- but The Sisters Brothers is set in frontier America, on the West Coast, during the Gold Rush -- so really, similar timing, just a *bit* later on.  And, well, not really in the Wild West but more so in the Pacific Corridor.  But you get the picture -- gun-totting, horse-riding, beard-wearing, gold-stealing miscreants on a hit job.  Sounds violent?  It kinda is, but not so much that it is off putting.  Sound sweet and a little touching? No?  Well, it kinda is that too -- the characters are well developed in a simple style and with enough depth that you end up rooting for the apparent 'bad guys'.  

Patrick DeWitt's writing is compelling without being complicated and his off beat sense of humour jumps off the page in little fire cracker moments.  The sparse nature of his narrative adds to the setting and helps you feel the sparseness of life on the edge of the law and society.  Not surprised it won several awards.  Like good food, simple but well executed always triumphs. 

Truly enjoyable read!  That brought a few others to mind...

I've also read Willa Cather's The Song of the Lark and O Pioneers! which are both set in a similar time period -- the cusp of the modern era, the mid-nineteenth century, as the USA finds its footing and its personality.  Cather's writing is more dense (but compared to DeWitt, my 1 year old's books look wordy) but still entices you into a place that seems almost impossible to reach -- what is left of the imagination of discovery and pioneering?  Travel is simple, accessible and common.  I love the spirit of the characters in both DeWitt's work and Cather's: they are all attempting to forage out life against the odds.  

Finally, The Sisters Brothers couldn't help but make me think of one of the strangest little books I have ever read: McTeague.  I had to read McTeague for a class in university, with a professor who taught history without dates and just wanted you to get a 'feel' for the era.  Well, to his credit, I suppose I did.  After all, as I read The Sisters Brothers, that class came right back to my mind (and it has been awhile since I did my undergrad).  All I could think about was the characters and story of McTeague which are almost beyond description.  A multi-layered, graphic look into the psyche of a turn of the century San Franciso, McTeague stays with you -- for better or for worse. 

Books, babies and teething...

Monday morning: it's been a week and our little guy, A, has decided that he is above sleeping.  Or napping.  Or being content.  He has good moments, sure, but he certainly is not himself.  For the first time in 14 months, I feel pretty confident saying this little patch is teething.  Afterall, I can actually see molars and eye teeth pushing through with white little points and I'm guessing that can't feel good.  What also doesn't feel good?  Not sleeping.  Any of us.  And being nine months pregnant & not sleeping = a deep sense of worry.  What will I do when there are two babies?  So, as I cuddle A to sleep and remind myself that all of parenting is more or less a 'phase' I ask myself, what am I modelling for this child?  What am I teaching him?  I hope he is learning that he is deeply loved.  On top of that, I am trying to show him that we read, that we play outside, that we snuggle and that there is no greater gift than love.  But when all you want to do is drift off to sleep all day long, it is hard to remember parenting is an amazing honour and not a tiring burden.

Pride and Prejudice is far and away my favourite book.  But when Elizabeth and her Darcy don't fit the bill, I often turn to another life long friend--Anne of Green Gables.  Particularly Anne of Avonlea and Anne of Ingleside, two in the 7 book series about Canada's favourite willowy red-head.  It was a good thing that I re-read (okay, skimmed for the parts that make my heart swell) Anne of Ingleside last week.  Now a mother, Anne finds herself living with the big adventures of little souls (as well as some classic Anne-Gilbert interaction) and spends a good deal of the book reflecting on motherhood.  She talks of chubby knees, velvet elbows and grasping hands that are so incredible, so lovely and so worth loving.  When A is crying in his crib and B and I are both living in sleep deprivation I listen hard to the words of Anne as she reminds me that this little man (and his soon-to-be sibling) are worth every minute.   What are a few hours of my night?  What are long hours of my day?  What else is more important than nurturing this little soul? Yes, my sanity is up there because that is what I need in order to do the nuturing, but motherhood has made me find that sanity at a deeper level.  Strength from new, deeper sources.  Although Anne Shirley and her little brood are ficticious and not a terribly well balanced look at motherhood, they are nonetheless an example of seeing beyond the precarious moment and remembering that this second is fleeting and worth savouring.   

Not that I think he needs to be spoiled--his newest baby sign language sign is 'please' and we are pretty insistent on responding to 'please' over the point-and-grunt that A so prefers to use.  I also know that sometimes he just has to cry and that you don't learn to walk without falling.  But when he is in pain, a little fevery and distressed, what else can I do?  Perhaps you have ideas.  But in the moment, all I have is my instinct. Thank goodness for books that remind me of truth beyond myself.  

When Art and Economics Clash...

Well, I just devoured Happiness Economics by Shari Lapena.  This book is one that came highly recommended by my favourite local, independent book store...but I couldn't bring myself to buy something quite so unknown.  Even though my local library didn't have it, they were very obliging and ordered it in for me (such a great system--I am practically on a first name basis with the Acquisition person). 

Touted as a great Canadian lit, I was a bit worried Happiness Economics would be dark (for some reason I associate Canadian literature with being dark--which I blame on reading A Cure for Death By Lightining at 15).  After reading a good chunk of The Tiger, I was very much in the mood for something lighter and a bit closer to home.  Afterall, Russian environmental and interpersonal politics are fun, but not light. 

Now, back to the book at hand.  Set in 2008 Toronto (note the timing--impending market doom), this book tells the story of a lost poet, his over-achieving wife, and the children caught in between their parents' struggles.  Enter Lily White, muse to poet and nemisis to wife, who will start a chain reaction of change in everyone's life. 

Good read, solid read--nothing too heavy but still not fluff--I read it in a day (while baby slept) and found myself living day-to-day with the characters.  Also, it made me want to read poetry (which I rarely do). 

Recommend?  Yes.  Best book ever?  Not quite.  A glimpse into the problems of division of art and the marketplace?  Absolutely.

Enjoy!