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.  

With all The Elegance of a Hedgehog.

When I was in grade ten my history teacher told me I "wrote like a gorilla."  He even put it on my interim report card.  While it seems harsh, it was true.  I have always worked at writing--editing carefully (okay, not so much on the blog) and really forcing myself to take a detailed look at grammatical rules.  I'm still fuzzy on some things (like split infinitives) and ever mindful of number agreement (so much easier to use 'them' when he/she is the right choice) but more or less, I have gotten over my gorilla-like tendencies.  Even by the end of grade 10, great strides had been made.

So when someone loves grammar or is very aware of the rules, I'm a bit in awe.  After all, I am usually doing my best to keep my head above grammatical water, let alone be able to notice grammatical flaws in public places.  I can edit and edit and edit but I don't usually choose to edit my daily surroundings.  In my experience, being too critical always ends badly. 

Grammar, and all of it foibles, plays a central role in The Elegance of the Hedgehog (I really, really love the title).  Two characters tell their own quest for truth, meaning and beauty while facing the day-to-day limitations of life and culture in modern day Paris.  A little dense, yes.  A good read, certainly.  I openly admit to skimming sections that are waxing philosophical on art and the theory of art.  I much preferred the narrative elements to the philosophical, metaphorical musings.  But whenever the author was about to lose me because we had droned on about art long enough, the story reappeared and drew me in again. 

To summarize: if lofty language and academic prose aren't your thing then this book is not for you.  However, if you are willing to read with a dictionary close at bay (another argument for e-readers), this book is a sweet read with a touching finish.  And you will completely understand why such a a title would ever be given to a book. 

Next up: a recommendation The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Six More (Roald Dahl) and The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie (Alan Bradley)

Canada Reads #4: On a Cold Road

So if I said I wasn't a hockey fan (see my thoughts on The Game) then I should also admit that I am not a huge rock'n'roll fan.  However, I do love music and love love love performing (in my own little head I'm a Broadway star) which is probably why I enjoyed On A Cold Road as much as I did. 

I was a little surprised--after all, this is the wayward story of The Rheostatics as they traipse around Canada with The Tragically Hip.  As a fan of CBC Radio, I had definitely heard/of The Rheostatics but to assume that I would therefore enjoy a story of their cross-country travels?  I wasn't so sure. 

But I loved it!  It was an easy read (not nearly as dense as The Tiger) and was a great insight into what day-to-day life is like for most musicians/artists.  For me, the little stories that happen behind the scenes, the things the audience is never meant to know or notice, those are the stories I love.  And I also appreciate Bidini's willingness to share his book space.  After a story or two about The Rheostatics, he turns to the voice of "the chorus" -- a whole group of singers/musicians/music industry people who share his/her own story about a topic--their first gig, worst buses they toured on, little towns they will always remember playing in, and so on.  All of these great windows into the nitty, gritty parts of being a Canadian musician.   All compellingly written in a way that even if you have no idea  who they are talking about (like me), you can somehow relate to the story, the moment, the experience.  Where I felt like The Game never really let me get that close to hockey and the real life of an athlete, On a Cold Road managed to let me get close to the musicians and allowed me to experience all the emotions of being on the road. 

But, in all fairness, I am a performer.  I try to find my way on some kind of stage at least once a year.  I love the backstages, the comradery and the amazing transformation from regular people to actors that comes the second you enter the wings of the theatre.  Nothing is quite like creating art, creating yourself and creating community through music.  So, in that sense, I get Bidini's story.  It compels me because it allowed me to enter into the backstage of a world I will never know (ie. rock'n'roll).  It also reminds me of the moments that I hold so dear--moments no photo, no words, no blog could ever capture.  Moments that are pure art, pure relationship, pure community. 

Wanna know what it's like?  Let On A Cold Road tell you. 

Guilty Pleasure Reading...

So I love reading (hence the blog) and I do love reading a good good book, but there is also something so good about a book that isn't that great but makes you feel great.  These are my guilty pleasures--I know they aren't well written, classics or timeless.  They will flit away like the seasons but, for me, these books manage to eek out space on my bookshelf even when I'm consolidating and storing up most of my literary treasures.  Why?  Because some days you just want to curl up with a book where good wins, love triumphs and everything ends in a way that makes your chest feel warm. 

1. Pretty much anything by Sophie Kinsella but my favourite is definitely The Undomestic Goddess.  It wins with me because the heroine isn't as silly as Becky Bloomwood (ie, the Shopaholic) or as random as some of Kinsella's others.  And I like the classic tale of finding yourself where you least expect it.  And finding love there too.  
2. Twilight.  Ooof.  There you go.  I said it.  I like Twilight.  To be clear, I know this is not a well written book and I know, trust me, that this is a fad.  But the part of me that loved playing house and make believe as a child still likes to imagine a world where other forces are at play--funky, handsome, romantic forces.  You might think less of me, but I'm okay with that.  No need to justify the guilty pleasure read--we all have them!  Sometimes you just want to enjoy a classic werewolf-vampire-love-triangle and I certainly do. 
3. Gemma Townley's The Hopeless Romantic's Handbook.  Not actually a handbook for romance, but a super sweet story where people put some of their power to good use--a nice little addition to an otherwise fluffy experience.  And, despite the inclusion of Twilight, you'll note a general theme of liking British Chick lit.  There is something endearing about reading about love in a different cultural vernacular.
4. Books about food.  Yummmm.  I like to read about good food that I'll likely never make/eat but I love to swallow words that make my mouth water.  Best example lately, The Food of Love by Anthony Capella.  A retelling of Cyrano de Bergerac that might be a bit over-sexualized, it still describes food in a way that made me want to eat offal (that would be organ meat--brains, livers, hearts, pancreas) and had me rethinking how I order coffee.  I also read The Hundred Foot Journey which wasn't as much a love story as The Food of Love but was definitely filled with yummy, yummy food.  But if you are looking for real books about food, I would suggest Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver and Jamie Oliver's Cook with Jamie (which I've mentioned before). 

If I think of others, I'll add them!  Afterall, we all want something light and delicious to read from time to time, don't we?

Happy reading!

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!

Going, going, gone...

In Canada Reads 2012 news Prisoner of Tehran is already out of the running and I am disappointed.  Then again, I still have many of the books to read.  But I do think it is an important book...and CBC must agree as it made the top 5. 

The Tiger is chilling and gripping so far, but I am going to have to return it to the library without completing it, which have to find it from another source.  Perhaps this dilemma is when the e-reader would be handy!  Who knew Russian politics (both governmental and environmental) could be so engrossing? 

Another book complete! The Game is done...

Canada Reads #2 Complete!

I finally finished The Game by Ken Dryden.  It took me forever and ever, amen.  I’m not a slow reader—actually, I probably read too quickly to a fault most of the time.  But this book was slow going for me. 

I think there was a basic problem: this book has been written for hockey fans in the 1980’s and I am neither a) a huge hockey fan or b) aware of what hockey was like in the 1980’s/living in the 1980's.

Ken Dryden is writing for people who want to understand the nuance and rhythm of the game – but the writing was almost prohibitive if you weren’t terribly well-versed in hockey names/personalities of the mid-century game.  And while my FIL knew every single person, I struggled with who was on what team.  And when I am having trouble following the train of thought, I tend to feel frustrated and give up.  But I didn't.  And I'm glad I  stuck it out.  Either Dryden got more interesting, or I was better able to engage the subject matter, but the end was better than the beginning. 

There are some great points about superstition, luck and the strange culture of professional sports (dynamics between teams, managers, coaches; the locker room during practice, before, during and after games; and what its like to be 'on the road').  Dryden also makes great points about the interaction between sports and money.  These topics certainly were interesting…if a bit long winded.   I also appreciated his explanation of how the game developed (the history geek in me loves a historical recap) but I didn’t need all the stuff around it. 

The book was missing was a consistent thread to hold on to.  I often lost sight of where I was, what had happened and where I was expecting to end up.  The content seemed much more commentary than story driven, which is fine, but a central strand to hold onto can really help the inexperienced (ie, me) engage the commentary being provided on a certain topic (in this case, hockey).  Perhaps more of a base story would have helped with all the moments I really had no idea what was going on. 

Okay, so The Game is not getting my vote (not that CBC is asking me) but I am better versed in hockey culture and history—which will come in handy hanging out with my husband, father in law and brothers in law on the couch enjoying a hockey game.  And that is always a good thing! 

Next up: The Tiger by John Vaillant.  The subtitle: A True Story of Vengeance and Survival. I’m both completely intrigued and a *little* scared!