Minouette at the Big Magic Pop-Up Toronto Etsy Street Team Market

Earlier this year, Penguin Random House Canada contacted the Toronto Etsy Street Team and to ask for help staging a little pop-up market. They let us know that they were planning the book tour for  Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear by Elizabeth Gilbert, the worldwide bestelling author of Eat, Pray, Love, and since this book was all about creativity, what it is and how to nurture it, how to welcome ideas and how everyone can live a creative life, they thought that partnering with Etsy sellers was a great fit. We loved the idea of welcoming creativity into your life, and celebrating Gilbert's book with a handmade market. Thanks to Penguin Random House Canada for the invitation and our hosts Indigo at the event! The audience at the Isabel Bader Theatre on Monday, September 28th had a chance to shop the market of a variety of 22 different handmade sellers before and after Gilbert discussed her book.

They kindly sent me an advance copy of the book. I had thought I didn't need a pep talk about creativity, since I tend to feel compelled to create, but it was so enjoyable to delve into the question of the nature and source of creativity and ideas. My thoughts are a bit more hard-headed and unsurprisingly scientific than hers. I heard her interviewed on Q where she joked about her own pre-Enlightenment magical thinking take on ideas, which (whom?) she almost personifies - or imagines as a daemon. Thus I enjoyed her stories about her own experience interacting with ideas the way I love magical realism in fiction. The pragmatic advice, kindness and compassion which she brings to her exhortation to pursue the creative outlets that make you truly you is something I needed more than I knew, and I would recommend to anyone. You can read more about what Elizabeth Gilbert has learned about creativity and shares in the book on the Etsy Blog.

Storms and coffee, raccoons and books

Oh, poor neglected blog! I'm sorry I've been so busy. I spent much of August travelling through New England and the Maritime provinces and I'd love to share some photos (as soon as I have some more time and can get them from my husband's computer, where we dumped the data while on the road). After that, it's been non-stop Etsy: Made in Canada planning! We've been working on it since January and now it's practically here. Please do come out and see the show this Saturday, September 26th, 10 am to 6 pm, at the MaRS Centre Atrium at Collge and University if you're in Toronto. If you're not, you can find 33 other shows at cities across the country.

I've even failed to mention other shows. My portrait of Charles Keeling was in Art.Science.Gallery's show about climate change, 'From the Mountains To the Sea'.

I have a coffee-themed linocut which will be exhibited as part of the Coffee Art Project at The New York Coffee Festival from September 25^th – 27^th 2015. The Coffee Art Project is a competition and sale, with proceeds going to Project Waterfall which brings clean water to coffee growing regions in the developping world. (If you're in NYC and want free tickets, drop me a line. I can't use mine.)

Last weekend, I participated in my first outdoor show, the DECAF show in East Lynn Park (bit of a coffee theme here...). Saturday was, frankly, terrifying. RJH encounted some difficulty as the advance party, sent to set up my borrowed 10' tent

(thanks to some unsolicited but well-intentioned "help" we ended up with a broken frame).  I was managing okay with our jerry-rigged set-up until after lunch, when the light rain turned to violent, gusting wind and a sudden storm. It was the sort of weather where all sane people go inside. I was there by myself and called RJH for help. I didn't even have proper walls; we had suspended tarps. We ended up with the two of us holding the tent down, so it didn't fly away with the baby in the stroller in the middle of the tent to stay dry and safe. When the rain let up a little, I ran home with the baby and called my mother for help. She was able to babysit, so I could return... but by that point everyone was closing for the day and all I could do was mop up the mess. While I had to go through all of my prints and dry them off, damage was minimal because they are sealed in plastic envelops. It was just nerve-wracking. My friend Queenie said it was her first and last outdoor show. Maybe the risk of weather just isn't worth it for those of us who make paper goods. Luckily, the Sunday was beautiful. RJH re-jigged the tent with new and more thorough tarps. Hilariously, I had a raccoon visitor in my tent, presumably there to check out my raccoon high five prints.

After Etsy: Made in Canada I have one more thing to do before I can relax, and take a break. Next Monday, Elizabeth Gilbert (author of Eat, Pray, Love) will be in Toronto at the Elizabeth Bader Theatre to discuss her highly-anticipated new book, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear. I'm going to be there as part of the Toronto Etsy Street Team pop-up market before and after the event! Penguin Random House Canada sent me an advance copy and it's really great. I enjoyed it much more than I imagined I would. I'm always a bit dubious of the bestsellers or blockbusters, because sometimes wildly popular means less than challenging, or middle-of-the-road and I haven't read Eat, Pray, Love. I also didn't think I needed a pep talk about welcoming creativity, but I think now that even those of us driven to create can learn to be more gentle with ourselves and open to creativity. We're also likely to enjoy thinking about the very concept. Big Magic reads like having a frank, free-wheeling discussion about creativity and what's she's learned about being an artist (both before and after acheiving fame and financial success). It's also a sort of caring, empathetic manifesto for why and how you should do everything to welcome creativity into your life. Her experience with creativity is as a writer, so she writes a lot about writing, though she defines creativity quite broadly and includes examples of everything from ice skating to ecology. I love the idea of celebrating a book about creativity by hosting a hand-made market at the book reading. It promises to be a interesting night. The reading is sold out, I'm afraid... but she's got some great things to say. You can catch some of her take on the creative life today on the Etsy Blog.

The Selected Works of T.S. Spivet

I seem to have fallen out of the habit of regularly reviewing books on my blog. I used to be more disciplined about it, and there is a series of reviews on the minouette blog (and here), including the one below for one of my favorite books of the last several years. I've also mentioned The Selected Works of T.S. Spivet on magpie&whiskeyjack, comparing the whimsical maps and scientific illustration of everything incorporated into the work of artist Simon Evans with those of the more strictly empirical modern-day Humboltian cartography protegy Spivet. If you, like me, are inspired by the fertile intersection of art and science, this is a novel for you. You should go read it right away, because as I was very pleased to read this morning, Jean-Pierre Jeunet (director of Amelie, or Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain in French) has adapted the novel for a movie to be released in France (filmed in English, with French subtitles) in October.



The Selected Works of T.S. Spivet by Reif Larsen

Reading this novel I thought, yes, this is what I want to do all the time.  Why can't I just get paid to read books like this? I would be happy  doing this indefinitely. Of course, are there books like this one? That  is a harder question to answer. Tecumseh Sparrow Spivet (best. name.  ever.) is a gifted prodigy in cartography at 12 years old. He lives on a  ranch near Divide, Montana, with his mother, stalled entomologist, Dr.  Clair, his teenage sister, Gracie, who would love to escape their small  town and peculiar family, and strong-silent cowboy father T.E. Spivet.  His brother Layton, has died, and we slowly learn more. T.S. keeps  different coloured notebooks for maps of people doing things:  zoological, geological, and topographical maps; and insect anatomy  (should Dr. Clair ever call on his help), respectively. T.S. learns  he has won the prestigious Baird Award from the Smithsonian, for his  incredible mapping and scientific illustration work, and his adventure  begins, as he decides to accept in person, but being 12, he sees his  best means of transport as to hop on a freight train and hobo east. In  this beautiful, whimsically illustrated book, T.S. maps everything  from the Continental divide, to beetle subspecies, to cowboy moves, to  facial expressions, to geology, to how McDonald's "penetrates my  permeable barrier of aesthetic longing", to concentration of litter in  Chicago, to his family history, to a many-worlds interpretation of  quantum mechanics and what this might have meant for his family. This  book is beautiful, in terms of the sensitivity and originality of the  story (Wormholes of the Midwest! the hobo hotline?), the love of  knowledge expressed, down to the layout of the text and images on the  page. Maybe we will be lucky enough to be recruited into the Megatherium  club. The manner in which this child's mind breaks up the world is a  reminder of why science is wonderful and the joy of unfettered thinking.  The story is also interwoven with that of T.S.' ancestors, including  his great-grandmother the early geologist. We get both 'when science was  young' and 'the young scientist'.

Maybe I'll go reread it myself now.  (cross-posted to magpie & whiskeyjack)

Reading is sexy LIII

detail from a portrait of Madame de Pompadour by Francois Boucher. Source: marquise-de-colombe.tumblr.com

I want to read more books this year than last. (I wrote this a while ago and am only publishing it now).

1. back alleys and urban landscapes by Micheal Cho. Toronto is indeed a city of back alleys elegant illustrations capture its feel. I appreciate also his notes about making his art and what inspired a given illustration.

2.Joseph Anton by Salman Rushdie. Now, I am a fan of Mr. Rushdie's books, particularly his amazing novels. I also believe in civil liberties, think censorship is wrong, am against capital punishment and am very clear on the fact that there is no excuse for threatening someone's life for what he thinks or writes. So, I obviously think that what happened to Rushdie is wrong. No one can deserve a fatwa to be issued calling for their death, and this is especially true if their 'crime' is writing an excellent novel (which by the way, doesn't actually say anything directly about Mohammed). In fact, when I read The Satanic Verses I kept expecting to find the provocative part, and was left confused about how someone could think it was blasphemous. In fact, in Joseph Anton Rushdie points out that one of the British Muslim organizers of a Satanic Verses book-burning later renounced his faith, showed up at a reading and pointed out that he now wonders what all the fuss was about. That said, having read Joseph Anton, I can't help but feel less fond of Salman Rushdie. Yes, it would seem that several British politicians, public figures and newspapers were less than kind and blamed him for his plight and the cost of his protection. Yes, I think he was in fact innocent, and certainly could not have been expected to foresee the response to his novel, warn the publishers, or censor himself. However, both 'Joseph Anton' (his pseudonym while in hiding) and Salman Rushdie also come across as well, unself-aware, pompous, entitled, at times petty, unfaithful and prone to name-dropping (cough! Bono, ahem). I do think that he deserved to be protected by his country when a foreign state threatened his life (and his translators and foreign publishers did get shot, stabbed and murdered, so the threat was real). I do agree that Western powers should have stood up to death threats from extremists - but his assertion that the fatwa led inexorably to 9/11 is simply that - an assertion. He does not make the case, and it strikes me as self-important and unfounded. Yes, the newspaper he calls 'The Daily Insult' did write some petty things about his appearance, but he responds in kind. He does come across as a dedicated father. He remained close with the two wives who bore him children post-divorce, which is admirable. He clearly loves his friends, though he does point out their shortcomings. He does a convincing job of painting wife number 2 as probably mentally ill and less than kind, but frankly, he's the one who married her. By the time he gets to wife number 4, I found I'd lost much sympathy for him in his personal life. It's probably unfair to expect authors to be wise just because there is beauty and insight and wisdom in their novels, but I was surprised at him. For whom did he write this book? If it can dismay a fan, I don't see how it could convince someone who thought he deserved his fate. He does describe his writing process, which will be interesting to many. If you ever wanted to know where he went (London, mostly), and how he was protected, and who paid for what, it's all revealed. If you're interested in gossip about the literary world, this is the book for you. You will find the typical Rushdie love of language and word play. The memoir is written in the 3rd person, as if it were a novel. The novelistic aspects are enjoyable, but like many memoirs, facts get in the way of it really flowing like a novel. I don't think he's capable of writing a bad book, but several (possibly all) of his other books are better than this.

3. NW by Zadie Smith This novel is a little different. It has four protagonists and sections written in their own style. There are several chapters 37, the first one following chapter 10 and other literary tricks, including one person described with a concrete poem. The protagonists are tied together by neighbourhood (hence the title). The stories of the four slowly intertwine. While the characters are full and real, this novel left me craving a bit more.

4. Seduced by Logic - Émilie du Châtelet, Mary Somerville And the Newtonian Revolution by Robyn Arianrhod. I picked up this book because Émilie Du Châtelet and Mary Somerville! While the two are not entirely an obvious pairing, born almost a century apart, on either side of the Channel, they are two of author Robyn Arianrhod favorite women in history (and mine). They both taught themselves mathematics and became world authorities on Newtonian mechanics, when few imagined a woman capable or even interested in such a thing. Émilie may today be remembered as Voltaire's lover, but her impact on continental physics, and bringing Newton's Principia to Europe (and even to those in England more able to read French than Latin) cannot be overstated. To this day, modern translators of Newton's Principia (where he finally, after much goading, printed the bulk of his understanding of mechanics and his famous three laws), still rely on Émilie's translation, explanations and re-organization of his work. She was aristocrat who not only dedicated herself to knowledge, writing about physics and experimentation, she enjoyed clothing and could be extravagant. Voltaire was known to call her Madame Newton-Pompom-du Châtelet for the pompoms she wore. His own writings on physics were written in collaboration with her and often quoted her word for word. It wasn't long before her skills and interest far exceeded his own. She had some insight into the relationship between light colour and heat, long before a modern understanding of energy (at the time, scholars debated whether kinetic energy or momentum was the pertinent thing - we now know that both are important, yet distinct). She leaned towards Leibniz' ideas on the subject, which shows how she was at the cutting edge of contemporary physics knowledge and debate. She translated Mandeville's The Fable of the Bees into French and used the preface to denounce the prejudice that prevented women from access to a proper education. Nonetheless, a product of her time, she focused more on her daughter's marriage prospects and her son's education. She had to fight to be taken seriously and deal with sexism from even the well-meaning; she and contemporary part-time Bolognese physics professor Laura Bassi were not impressed when their friend Algarotti wrote a rather patronizing popularization of Newton's physics called (I wish I were kiding) Newtonianism for the Ladies (I feel like there is a Kate Beaton comic in this anecdote). The story of her long-lasting relationship with Voltaire is quite fascinating, as is that of her husband, Voltaire and final lover Saint-Lambert all at her bedside with she died. Mary Fairfax Somerville was born in 1780 in Scotland and allowed to run wild, roaming the fields. She happened upon mathematics at 15, when she saw which published mathematical puzzles. She proceeded to try to teach herself using one of her father's books on navigation, and convincing her brother's tutor to buy her Euclid's Elements. Luckily when she first attempted solving published puzzles she met another self-taught mathematician and early mentor Wallace. Soon she moved on to Laplace's Celestial Mechanics, which she would eventually translate into English - and her translation became the standard university text for decades. This brought her fame. After a brief, unhappy marriage, she was mercifully widowed, and went on to meet her beloved husband and supporter of 41 years, William Somerville. As she continued to educate herself and write about mathematics and astronomy, she came to meet the leading scientists of the day (before the word or concept of a 'scientist' really had meaning... in fact the word was coined by Whewell when reviewing one of her books). She also wrote On the Connexion of the Physical Sciences (1834), Physical Geography (1848), and Molecular and Microscopic Science (1869). In 1835, she and Caroline Herschel became the first women members of the Royal Astronomical Society. Her excellent writing skills made her a best-selling author of science texts. She also believed in the rights of women and in 1868 (at age 87), she signed John Stuart Mill's unsuccessful petition for female suffrage. These two women and their stories are inspiring and the book is engaging. Unlike many history of science books this one has the context needed to really understand the contemporary state of science and the role they played, since Arianrhod is an astrophysicist by training; she does put the mathematics in an appendix, if that's not your thing - but it's all there for those of us who appreciate it.

5. A Fine Line - Scratchboard Illustrations by Scott McKowen by Scott McKowen. If you live around here you'll recognize McKowen's art from his iconic posters for the Shaw Festival and the National Ballet, amongst others. I really appreciate his work as it is similar in effect to a relief print. His descriptions of his process are wonderful, as are all his anecdotes of the theatre, theatre people, and synopses of many plays.

6. Mr. Fox by Helen Oyeyemi. This is a perculiar novel - a sort of battle of wills between a Mr. Fox and his mostly-imaginary muse Mary Foxe, who doesn't appreciate he way he kills off all his heroines. They trade off casting one another in tales. Reynardin plays a bloody role like Bluebeard. It's a sort of love-hate triangle story between Mr., and Mrs. Fox, and Mary Foxe. It's set in different times and places and is rather magical.

7. Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel. I picked this one up because told me too. So far, so good.

{Series so far: books read, more books read, books read, books read continues, more books read, I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII,XIX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII XXIV, XXV, XXVI, XXVII, XXVIII, XXIX, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL,XLI, XLII, XLIII,XLIV, XLV, XLVI, XLVII, XLVIII, XLIX, L, LI, LII}

Reading is sexy LII

The Japanese Mask, 1884, Gustave Claude Etienne Courtois. French (1852–1923). 

Source: myaloysius.tumblr.com

 

I have completely fallen out of the habit of regularly posting about my reading. Also, I read far less this year than previous years. I think it's because I haven't been commuting to work, which was always a good time to get in my daily read. I'm astonished to see I haven't posted about reading since August! I hope I can recall everything I read and my impressions!

13. Neal Stephenson, Snow Crash I read this book because reynardin told me to (roughly 300 times). In fairness, had I taken her advice a decade ago, perhaps I would have been more impressed. He does write very good sort of cyberpunk fiction. I appreciate his skewering consumerist society and the racist and nationalist tendencies he saw in the present and envisioning a 21st century, where our hero, Hiro Protagonist (and I feel we must admire the moxie of giving him such a ridiculous  name) is a hacker/pizza delivery boy for the mob-run Uncle Enzo's CosaNotra Pizza - a very dangerous job indeed. Likewise, being a courier, which involves skateboarding on the freeway after magnetically harpooning vehicles. In this future society, nations as we know them have crumbled into tiny industry controlled city-states, several of which are racially segregated, and each have their own security (including in some instances, genetically-modified, cyborg attack dogs called Rat Things). The story is about his battle to prevent a sort of infocalypse, brought about by a shadowy villain infecting programmers and hackers with a sort of visual computer virus which can infect their minds. His version of avatars interacting on the Internet, written in 1992, is wonderfully creative (if you can put yourself back to what you knew about the Internet in 1992). He writes a story which is fast-paced, which allows for critique of our society, and which even brings in Sumerian mythology. I love origin myths, but I must say, the Sumerian mythology subplot was pretty clunky. I appreciate the desire to credit scholarship, but if you have to invent a reason why someone or something might spew direct quotes with citations into your novel, you might not be doing the reader any favours. Further, if you are then going to decide to twist the myth around, you really had no excuse for such excessive literalism in the first place. Ultimately, I always end up with the same problem reading Stephenson. Hiro's young, female sidekick, Y.T. (again, with the names - say it out loud), not only sleeps with the giant, homicidal Aleut killer for no apparent reason, she also gives Hiro some advice about his own love interest which is dead wrong. She says, "Hiro, you are such a geek. She's a woman, you're a dude. You're not supposed to understand her. That's not what she's after." And this is why Stephenson pisses me off even when he writes a book I can largely enjoy. He makes me want to lock him in a room with nothing but Simone de Beauvoir to read. When he finally writes a novel in which the women are not other, then, I'll be happy. Generalizing about an entire gender is a foolhardy thing for me to do, so I'm just going to go ahead an do something more presumptuous and talk about humankind. ALL PEOPLE WANT TO BE UNDERSTOOD. This is the entire tragedy of the human condition; even when we care about others and strive for compassion, we cannot place ourselves inside another's mind or experience and we still have misunderstandings. The idea that any lover, male or female, is not aiming to be understood, is bizarre. While some might wish for some sort of mystique, exactly how does one love without understanding? The statement that men, in generally, are not "supposed to understand" their female lovers makes me furious. A good author writes characters whose motivations can be understood; Stephenson is too good an author to consistently write these female characters whose motivation does not make sense, who strike me as little more than walking, talking plot devices.

14. Edmund de Waal, The Hare With Amber Eyes This is an excellent family memoir by a renown British ceramic artist, a descendant of the Jewish grain and banking dynasty, the Ephrussi family. He investigates where he comes from through the device of tracing the history of his inheritance: a collection of 264 Japanese netsuke (beautiful little carvings in ivory and wood) over five generations. It's an incredible story, from Odessa, Vienna, Paris to Tokyo, and his strives to paint us a picture of his ancestors and their interactions with everyone from Proust, to the Impressionist painters, to Rilke, to a beloved maid who managed to preserve some of their heritage from the Nazis. This is a lovely, engaging book. I highly recommend it.

15. Andre Dubus III, Townie, A Memoir. This is an extraordinary book. I confess I had never previously read Dubus, or his father, also named Andre Dubus. Now I know I should. This is a beautiful book, a love story (of the cold, and broken hallelujah sort) to his own family. After spending his earliest childhood in Iowa, where his father was studying writing, and then more or less in the woods, he and his siblings grew up in a rough town adjacent to the college town where his father taught, after his parents' marriage failed. The word 'hardscrabble' is not strong enough. His father's income as a writer and college writing teacher, and his mother's income as a social worker, were simply not enough to support two households. The children were loved by their parents, but still lived in poverty, in a place where drugs and violence were the norm. His father, while he could barely afford to take his children out for meals, never truly understood their existence or their struggle, in the other town, over the river. It's the story of how Andre, shaken by his inability to defend his little brother from an adult man determined to beat him up, decides he must be able to physically defend his family. He works to bulk up and learn to be a fighter. In some ways it's a very male story, of this sort of sense of responsibility to provide physical protection, or the instinct to fight and how and why violence erupts. But, he writes not only with stark honesty about his experience of growing into a man and struggling to connect with his father, but with love and compassion for his mother, his sisters and the women in his life. It's also the story of how he became a writer; I'm sure many will also appreciate reading about his process, and his father's and that of the other writers who pass through the pages of this book. You should read this book.

16. Hilary Mantel, The Giant O'Brien In 1782, a desperately poor Irish giant and his entourage, travel to London to try to make some sort of living. O'Brien sings and tells fairytales to entertain, though his mere presence is, at first, spectacle enough to draw a paying crowd. London is the centre of commerce and science, including a formerly poor Scottish society doctor and master anatomist, John Hunter, employer of "resurrection men", the grave robbers who let him ply his trade. Hunter is more than a little interested in this extraordinary specimen. Inspired by true events, this is an engaging novel.

17. Zsuzsi Gartner, Better Living Through Plastic Explosives This is a brilliant, though dark and satirical, and occasionally magical, collection of short stories about evolution, BBQ, lovers who speak Ikea, protective mothers and uninspired art teachers, jealousy, advertising and Olympic mascots, adopted Chinese daughters, anti-science motivational speakers and the TRIUMPH particle accelerator, filmmaking, Haida Gwaii, and sweat lodges, angels, and 'recovering' terrorists. Need I say more?

18. Seth (with his father), Bannock, Beans and Black Tea Stark stories of the famed Canadian cartoonist's father's boyhood, in rural Nova Scotia during the Depression. Sad, but beautiful.

19. Michael Nicoll Yahgulanaas, Red - A Haida Manga I heard a scholar argue that in a time with things like graphic novels, we now need different types of literacy. That to 'read' a story told largely in pictures, demanded much of the reader, even if it were not our original idea of literacy. Red certainly interacts with the reader (viewer?) in a nontraditional way (for a book), by employing traditional design language of the Haida, in the form of a manga, with an over-arching structure as well as one tradition-inspired legendary story. The entire book can be read, page by page, as well as one complex drawing.

20. George Lois, Damn Good Advice (for people with talent) This is an interesting book, with of course, gripping and beautiful graphic design. It is written as a series of short points for creative people, though much of it relates more strictly to advertising. He argues, compellingly, that advertising is (or at least, can be) art. He is a braggart, but he had the track-record to back it up, having produced innovative work since the 60s. You'll recognize his Esquire cover with Muhammad Ali as the martyred St Sebastien shot with arrows, or 'I want my MTV' and many other campaigns. He's also endearing with his pride in his ethics (refusing work from bigots, and arguing that one should never knowingly work for bad people), and his history of fighting racism (including spearheading the campaign to free Hurricane Carter). He has no patience for comparisons to Mad Men, abhorring the womanizing, racist, anti-semite, Republican characters on the show - and also claims to have been more handsome than Don Drapper in his 30s. He brags of his 60 year marriage, and thanks his wife (though he confesses he's taken credit for her input through thoughts and copywriting on his work). He also straightforwardly commends good work by others, thanks his mentors and warns the sexists that they are fools. The book is beautiful, and it does contain some damn good advice, particularly about Big Ideas.

{Series so far: books read, more books read, books read, books read continues, more books read, I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII,XIX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII XXIV, XXV, XXVI, XXVII, XXVIII, XXIX, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL,XLI, XLII, XLIII,XLIV, XLV, XLVI, XLVII, XLVIII, XLIX, L, LI}

adventures in readings

I've been feeling under the weather for about a week, but I thought it was some low-grade virus I could shake off. Unfortunately, I also (or so I thought) had water in my ear which was beginning to impede hearing. I finally went to the doctor yesterday and was prescribed rest and antibiotics for an ear infection. I'm not so good at doing little.

Tuesday, I went to hear Jenny Lawson (the Bloggess) give a reading at Indigo at Bay and Bloor. It was extremely crowded and I was reminded of Someotherathena's dread tales of crazed Jamie Oliver fans who showed up at his reading. All the seats were taken when I arrived (40 minutes early). I found a spot to stand at the back next to two people who were already there. Unlike most people, I looked over my shoulder to make sure that I stationed myself so that I was not impeding the view of those who arrived before me. There was an Indigo employee doing her best to prevent people from standing on the stairs and in the aisle, but she was no bouncer. A man came and stood right in front of us... but then, he wouldn't even stay still and he stepped on toes and bumped into all of us, repeatedly. The couple who were there before me looked hard put upon (aha!) and rolled their eyes. I said, "Excuse me," being Canadian, and he stared at me blankly. So, I was forced to continue, "You keep bumping into me so I wanted to make you aware..." "I never bumped into you." "Yes, actually, about three times." He turned to look at the couple for support and they glared at him, so he weaselled away. So I seemed to have impressed the couple and we chatted a bit. They told me that if there was a rush to the velvet rope when the reading began I should stick with them. A mother came by and said excuse me (though there was a free path to move on the other side of me) and before I could respond, she took me by the shoulder and forcibly displaced me, setting a lovely example for her daughter on how not to negotiate a crowd. The man told an employee that they had been waiting patiently for an hour, following the instructions to stay out of the aisle and then later arrivers had just come and stood in front. She marched around with her little microphone and vaguely shooed people who ignored her. Later, since apparently she had no short term memory, she came at me aggressively and told me I would have to move. The man told her I was with them, in a tone which made her back off. Sure enough, when the talk began, we got to go right up to the back of the seated audience, after all that fruitless audience wrangling. He said next time they were going to spray paint a box on the floor to mark the spot they staked out and I suggested wearing protective clothing. 

The interview and reading were indeed hilarious. She has great comedic timing which is not a given. Just because a writer is funny it doesn't follow that they are funny in person, but she is. She interjected with funny tidbits left out of the book or anecdotes about the response she had received (from everyone from her in-laws to Pepto-bismol). It was really entertaining. I joined the long line to get my book signed. Reynardin called so we passed the time. I thought I would leave if I hadn't made it to the front within an hour, but it seemed so close then that I stayed. By the time I got to the front, I was exhausted. I had been standing for three hours. I was more sick than I realized. I couldn't hear out of my right ear. I suddenly realized I had nothing articulate to say and I hadn't brought a camera (people bring cameras to readings?). So I said something inarticulate about how it was a riot and I was glad she came to Canada and I came to the reading. She said she loved my shirt (as illustrated above) and I said I had thought it was somehow appropriate. She said it was very appropriate and thanked me for waiting so long. She has a weakness for (taxidermied) animals doing odd things, so a chick with a fish strapped to her back seemed like something which would be her thing. Since much of her writing actually reveals the hilarious-in-hindsight aspect of generally speaking her mind heedless of her perhaps over-developed sense and appreciation of the absurd and the social awkwardness caused by anxiety disorder, I thought of all people, I should not worry about having said something odd and inarticulate to her, because she'd get it. Plus, she told us she was doped up on anti-anxiety meds... 

I'd never been to a reading which was quite so overfull with fans (as in fanatics), complete with jockeying for position, though I did once crash a reading with Reynardin. Though that was an innocent mistake. We went to hear John Le Carré on campus. R had got the tickets. One of the grad students had defended her masters so I was coming from the pub and frankly was a wee bit tipsy. I told R we could take a short-cut across campus and I lead her into the back door of the building where the talk would be and confidently assumed we could find the auditorium because it was so large. We did in fact succeed, entering the auditorium through the stage door. I saw that it was quite full and did not want to make a scene so I dragged R to the first available seats I saw - in the front row (quite oblivious to the fact that R's tickets were for two specific numbered seats, much further back). In hindsight, the front row was empty as it was reserved for VIPs. After a bit the man in charge of the readings series came and sat a few seats down. He raised his eyebrow at us, but said nothing. I think he was amused by the perceived moxie and pleased that anyone would care enough about a reading to sneak in. Though of course, we legitimately had tickets, and I had ignorantly taken the front row seats in an attempt to be inconspicuous. 

I think I'll try and do a better job of taking it easy today. Certainly no running errands or standing on my feet for hours. I can't wait until I have two fully functioning ears again. Tragically, we are out of coffee and I cannot will coffee beans to be delivered to my door. I'm hoping RJH can pick some up on his way home.

Reading is sexy LI

(image credit: Chris Silas Neal)
12. The Sea - A Cultural History by John Mack This was an very interesting book, though somehow it didn't quite keep me engaged. I would recommend this book as an interesting read, perhaps in small doses, along with some other reading. In fairness, I think I am not well disposed to reading uncorrected page proofs (like this one). I do get caught in details.* The one thing I would have preferred in fact would be more. Some of the things which interest me, like (obviously) marine science**, exploration, map making, the depths, shipwrecks, and women at sea, naval architecture and piracy are given short shrift. I think this book could easily have grown into a much larger project. As it is, it's more of an anthropological, sociological and English literature history (with a touch of art history) of the sea than a full cultural history of the sea - which is a fascinating thing, but not a complete thing. I did particularly appreciate the careful study of cultural differences in navigation. In the west (particularly the Mediterranean) we historically focus on a tradition of 'coasting' (travelling from port to port, largely within sight of shore) and we give a lot of credit to explorers' "discoveries" (of inhabited, clearly already discovered places). Too often we learn western history as world history, so the details on Ibn M jid and 15th century navigation in the Arab world were refreshing. I appreciated the contrast between (southern) European methods with the tradition of navigation in the Arab world (which largely involved knowing the monsoonal weather patterns and latitudes of all ports, finding the requisite latitude and going straight across a line of latitude). This in turn can be contrasted with the Polynesian navigation tradition, which was more about relative headings maintained with reference to astronomical cues in the presence of currents, wind and waves. In an oceanic world dotted with small islands, the sea is viewed as connecting, rather than separating people. I also enjoyed learning of societies like the Sea Gypsies of Malaya, who, as near as possible, live on the ocean.
(image: by

 *Like most people who go to sea, I admire Captain Cook and thus was stumped when I read about his contributions to "geography and hydrology". Hydrology? Cook did many things, but nothing like the work of hydrologists I know (who study the action of water in geology). Eventually I concluded that this was a typo and hydrography was intended - something more obviously paired with geography, after all. But, I wasted a lot of time puzzling over this. Also, when the Nootka people of BC are described as living on an island west of "Victoria Island" it really annoys me; there is no "Victoria" island. I know it's confusing that Vancouver is on mainland and Victoria is on Vancouver Island, but since the Nootka were mentioned when discussing Captain Vancouver, you think it might have occurred to someone. It's the largest Pacific island east of New Zealand, so it's sort of hard to miss. I don't think most people would be irked by such details (unless they happen to have lived on Vancouver Island and done marine geophysical research off Nootka Island).

**SCIENCE IS PART OF CULTURE.

{Series so far: books read, more books read, books read, books read continues, more books read, I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII,XIX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII XXIV, XXV, XXVI, XXVII, XXVIII, XXIX, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL,XLI, XLII, XLIII,XLIV, XLV, XLVI, XLVII, XLVIII, XLIX, L}

Reading is sexy XLIX

(image: 'In March read the books you've always meant to read' via brainpickings March 25, 1941, WPA Art Project Chicago)

I think it's official. I have reader's block. It's like writer's block, but for readers. I have been a roughly a book a week (40 to 50 a year) sort of reader for the last couple of decades (oh, dear, how is that possible?)... but not of late. I barely read 25.5 books last year, and this year is not off to an auspicious start. I think trying to read 'Myths to Live By' was one of my mistakes.

1. Myths to Live By by Joseph Campbell. I pulled this book off RJH's shelf and it nearly did me in. I thought, "It's Joseph Campbell, on myths, how can I go wrong?" I was wrong. It took me the better part of 4 months to read this book. It did not resonate with me. I suspect, as Faunalia suggested, that was because the ideas were not new to me, though they would have seemed far more so had I read it when it was published (which, for the record, would be before my birth - I'm not that old). In fact, in December, I was waiting for the streetcar at Queen and Ossington with F., ranting about my attempt to read this book*, and I was shaking it about, asking "It's Joseph Campbell, on myths, I thought how could I go wrong?" when a lovely lady who had been in our screenprinting class in the fall, coincidentally walked by and said, "Oh hello! How are you? That's my favorite book!" I could only be thankful that she interrupted me before I launched into my attack. While there was interesting information in this book, I found it dated. I was impatient with the asides of "Kids these days!" (these days being the late 60s) and was surprised at his attitudes towards the religious (in sum, they are immature). I'm not religious and that irked me. Also, I know enough geochronology to know his allusions to prehistoric anthropology are out of date. There might be an interesting book in linking schizophrenia to the hero's quest, but this is not that book. Mainly, I learned some things about yoga, and read a bunch of things I had read before. If you are interested in the history of the study of myth, maybe this is the thing. Or maybe the trick is to read a single lecture at a time. I personally think if you are actually looking for myths to live by, you might be better off reading Women who run with the wolves. Or maybe, I've become a cranky reader.

2. Pattern Recognition by William Gibson. I read this book because Faunalia got tired of recommending I pick it up 200 times and she bought me a paperback copy. I hadn't read any Gibson in years, though I enjoyed Neuromancer and so forth, in my early 20s. This is the story of Cayce Pollard, cool hunter in 2003, charged with finding the source of "the footage", a sort of cult film released anonymously in tiny portions in random places on the internet and obsessively collected by an on-line community of footageheads. Cayce is haunted by the memory of her father, who went missing in Lower Manhattan on September 11, 2001. Cayce's success as a cool hunter is attributed to a sort of allergy to branding. It's a fascinating premise and Gibson translates his cultural exposition and critique from cyberpunk to the contemporary world with great success. The novel works as a sort of thriller, with some well-written characters. She travels the world chasing the source of the footage, trying to tell friend from foe, and finding the place where marketing meets globalization and terror. I was annoyed that she used Hotmail (really, a cool hunter would use something so desperately uncool, in 2003?) and I was a bit disappointed in the denouement. After reading an engaging and innovative novel, I expected a bit more than an Agatha Christie-style "let's contrive to have all the characters have dinner and explain all the missing bits" with a series of letters back and forth to tie up all the loose ends. However, the reason this annoyed me was that the novel was very good indeed up to that point. I do recommend it.

3. The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes. Don't say I didn't warn you that I've been a cranky reader of late, but I expected a bit more from the Man Booker prize winner. This is a good novel, but I wasn't amazed or truly moved. The novel is told in two parts. Tony Webster and his clique at school meet Adrian Finn and vie for his attention. They are pretentious, adolescent boys, who think highly of their own wit and intelligence, and sense that Finn is perhaps more genuine and clever. In the second part he he's retired, after a calm life, career, marriage and divorce (though he still has cozy little lunches with his ex-wife). An unexpected lawyer's letter brings back that adolescent through college years, his girlfriend of the time and his friend Finn. He remembers and slowly learns how the past is not always what we thought. I think the story would have affected me more had I liked Tony Webster.

4. Vintage Lopez by Barry Lopez. I stumbled upon this book and liked the sound of an explorer who had worked extensively in the Arctic. This collection includes non-fiction essays investigating the relationship between literature and landscape, ecology, light, and how air freight works (which is more interesting that it sounds). He has a way of painting indelible images in my mind. I really enjoyed the short fiction written at the intersection of art and science (imaginary anthropology, collectors and naturalists but most particularly the mapmaker). I wish I were the sort of person who could have written The Mappist. He manages to make an obsessive quest to map everything in North Dakota (geology, hydrology, biology, botany, history of the place form Native times, including paths flown by Swainson's hawks, and their principle prey ground squirrels, types of soil in transparent overlays, all footpaths and their history, and so forth) sound downright magical, and the sort of things which would have been in Borges' library.

*I care enough about books to discuss them in a heated fashion while flinging the book about... or something like that.

{Series so far: books read, more books read, books read, books read continues, more books read, I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII,XIX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII XXIV, XXV, XXVI, XXVII, XXVIII, XXIX, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL,XLI, XLII, XLIII,XLIV, XLV, XLVI, XLVII, XLVIII}

Reading is sexy XLVIII

(image source) The next two books I read had a theme of dysfunctional sibling relationships, where siblings compete for love with fatal results, also the theme of Eden, the serpent and fall from grace. Just in time for the holidays! (kidding of course)

23. The Game by A.S. Byatt This is a shorter, early novel by Byatt, which tells the story of two adult sisters, Casandra the Oxford don and Medievalist, and Julia, best-selling novelist. As children they had an elaborate, shared, imaginative life and the titular game, inspired by Medieval romances, reminiscent of what the young Brontë sisters made with their mythology of Gondal and the associated maps and stories they created together. The adult sisters are distant, but brought together when their father has a stroke. They grew apart, we learn, as the novel progresses, due to a series of perceived transgressions (Julia writing about their shared game, their mutual and competitive love of the neighbour Simon -now a jungle-dwelling herpetologist with a budding TV career, Cassandra's rather melodramatic denunciation of the family's Quaker faith and conversion to Anglicanism, Julia's sort of self-sabotaging hero-worship for her older sister). Cassandra is a spinster, with a secret obsession still for Simon, who shared her early religious investigations. Julia is married to would-be Quaker saint Thor, and has a teenage daughter Deborah. Julia finds herself on a TV show about art and ideas, through which Simon re-enters their lives. Once again, Byatt has a natural scientist as a character to involve zoology, but also the symbol and mythology of snakes and serpents. I appreciate her consistent argument that science, like art, contributes to culture. Julia, initially intending to repair her relationship with her sister, ends up writing a novel, which is a thinly-veiled story of Cassandra and her relationship with and to Simon, without much thought to consequences. This is a study of family relationships, unrequited love, ideas, the nature of art versus science, writing, mental health, suicide, charity, academia, and responsibility. The characters feel quite real and the story is engaging, though it is perhaps less of a tapestry of ideas than Byatt's later novels.

(Literary gossip being what it is, I read once that this novel started her feud with her sister Margaret Drabble, though, it's also been attributed to writing about a family tea set.)

24. Cain by José Saramago This strange and final parable from the wise old man himself, is a sort of mythical biography of Cain. It begins with his parents, Adam and Eve, and their despotic Old Testament Creator (complete with ample pride and crown) in the Garden of Eden. After their expulsion, and an interesting interlude between Eve and the guarding Cherubim, they land on their feet when taken in by a caravan (because, of course, there are other people), and eventually they make a home and a family. Cain, in frustration with God's petty testing of his faith by only accepting Abel's tributes, kills his brother in jealousy, but argues for God's partial culpability. The story is really of his life after this, as a nomad, through time and space. He serves as skeptical witness to all of the most famous Old Testament stories (from Abraham and Isaac through Sodom and Gomorrah, the Tower of Babel, Moses, Job, various wars and battles ending with Noah). The thesis seems to be that the Old Testament God is cruel and capricious (all that senseless death and destruction, including innocent children destroyed in Sodom and cruel demands of sacrifice), but Cain has a plan for retribution.

As intriguing as all of Saramago's novels, this is a most unusual book.

25. My White Planet by Mark Anthony Jarman At first I thought, that's what you get for choosing books at random off RJH's shelf. He, after all, has King Leopold's Ghost (about the exploitation of the Congo) by his bedside, and The Road (in which *spoiler alert* people are eaten) in the glove compartment of his car. I wondered whether perhaps all his favorite books would be sad. Jarman's first story (and some of the subsequent stories) of a soldier's life in Custer's army is a bit grim. Several stories are informed by the violent North American colonial wars and battles (with allusions to Sitting Bull through Louis Riel). The titular dreamy story about seven isolated men at arctic research station which has fallen out of contact with civilization, who find a shipwrecked girl, is quite creepy. But, he writes crystalline stories like poems. "Make way for my itchy antlers, my spikes of rage, my affection for the slippery slope." I have the idea that Jarman is a writer's writer. He knows how to wield words. His stories are very evocative. I recognized the unnamed Straight of Georgia (and was unsurprised to learn the author lived in Victoria, prior to moving to Fredericton) in the description of a float plane flight in Bad Men Who Love Buzz Lightyear; I recognized Fredericton with its right side and wrong side of the Saint John River in Bear on a Chain. I can see how his simple story of a New Brunswick old timers hockey team, A Nation Plays Chopsticks would charm RJH, with its descriptions of the game, the odd camaraderie, driving moose-ridden highways at night, haunting old arenas, and questioning the drive of the 'civilized' narrator (presumably Jarman) to play a sometimes violent game. I personally enjoyed the sporadic allusions to an interesting array of music (clearly he's an avid listener) - from Bobbie Gentry through the White Stripes, by way of everyone from Otis Blackwell, Neil Young, Stereolab, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Joy Division, the Tragically Hip, Sid Vicious, Syd Barrett and assorted unexpected allusions. The final two stories are even labeled "Bonus Tracks". Personally, I would read this book for the sheer pleasure of these two sentences: "If Derrida didn't exist we'd have to invent him. And then beat him up at recess," but the book is much richer than that. Read these well-crafted stories and see.

26. Myths To Live By by Joseph Campbell. Guess it's back to the imagery of the Garden and the serpent.

{Series so far: books read, more books read, books read, books read continues, more books read,  Reading is sexy I,  Reading is sexy II,  Reading is sexy III,  IReading is sexy V, Reading is sexy V, Reading is sexy VI, Reading is sexy VII, Reading is sexy VIII, Reading is sexy IX, Reading is sexy Reading is sexy X, Reading is sexy XI, Reading is sexy XII, Reading is sexy XIII, Reading is sexy XIV, Reading is sexy XV, Reading is sexy XVI, Reading is sexy XVII, Reading is sexy XVIII, Reading is sexy XIX, Reading is sexy XX, Reading is sexy XXI, Reading is sexy XXII, Reading is sexy XXIII Reading is sexy XXIV, Reading is sexy XXV, Reading is sexy XXVI, Reading is sexy XXVII, Reading is sexy XXVIII, Reading is sexy XXIX, Reading is sexy XXX, Reading is sexy XXXI, Reading is sexy XXXII, Reading is sexy XXXIII, Reading is sexy XXXIV, Reading is sexy Reading is sexy XXXV, Reading is sexy XXXVI, Reading is sexy XXXVII, Reading is sexy XXXVIII, Reading is sexy XXXIX, Reading is sexy XL, Reading is sexy XLI, Reading is sexy XLII, Reading is sexy XLIII, Reading is sexyXLIV, Reading is sexy XLV, Reading is sexy XLVI, Reading is sexy XLVII}

Reading is sexy XLVII

(image by Mladen Penev)
Goodness. From reading this blog, you would think that I have given up on the pastime of reading. I haven't posted a thing since August. Usually, I aim for 50 and hit about 40 books in a year. This year, I'm nowhere near that. Though, on the other hand, I've read a couple of epic books, which probably should count for at least three normal books (and in fact, one of them does, in the original Japanese). The trouble though, with not posting promptly, is that it is less fresh in my mind. In fact, I might omit an entire book! Ah well...

17. Too much happiness by Alice Munro. This is an excellent collection of short stories and the titular novella. (It won the 2009 Man Booker International Prize). I sought it out because I am interested in Sophie Kovaleskaya (there are various spellings and means of transliterating from Cyrillic characters, Со́фья Васи́льевна Ковале́вская) the nineteenth century master of mathematics and literature, and first female university professor in Northern Europe. Like the other (fictional) characters in these stories, her real life and marriage was complex, and she sought love in the wrong places. The stories have stayed with me; the people seem real, with faults and virtues, interacting in ways they don't foresee any more than the reader would. Several stories are overshadowed by violence, or the threat thereof. The collection is capped with the novella based on the facts of Kovaleskaya's turbulent life (her nursery wallpapered with her father's old calculus notes, her introduction to nihilism, her initially sham marriage as a means to escape Russia and pursue a higher eduction, her fight to study mathematics and her relationship with her thesis supervisor Karl Weierstrass, her return to Russia, the birth of her daughter, the complexity and end of her marriage, her writing, her life and professorship in Sweden, her lover, her premature death) and her ironic last words, 'Too much happiness.' Beautifully crafted and plotted stories.

18. The Crying of Lot 49 by Thomas Pynchon. I managed to read another Pynchon novel, but this early one is a mere 126 pages. Though, he packs those pages with more life, conspiracy, insanity, radio DJs, dead millionaires, secret codes, illegal underground mail systems, engineer bars complete with Lissajous figures on an oscilloscope for a sign, dive motels, psychiatrists doling out LSD to housewives, skeletons, a teenage band called the Paranoids, clues in bloody Jacobean Revenge Plays, stamp collecting, and one sex scene of more slapstick hilarity than can be imagined without reading the book. Oedipa Maas gets more than she bargained for when she agrees to be the executor of her former lover's estate.

19. Travels in the Scriptorium by Paul Auster. Well, if I can read one book with a complicated relationship to reality as we know it, why not two? Mr. Blank, an old man, awakes each day in a simple room: door, window, bed, desk and chair, but no memory or understanding of where he is or why he's there. He doesn't know if he is being imprisoned or is free to leave. A couple of people visit him, and he is given some clues to understand his fate. This odd, post-modern yet grounded, novel feels like one of the parables of José Saramago. It is a game between the author and the reader and the characters, but it is not only a game. It will be more rewarding if you read the New York Trilogy first.

20. The Woodcut Artist's Handbook by George A. Walker This was a thorough and enjoyable resource on 'everything you wanted to know about relief printing'. I've had it for some time and am glad I finally read it. Though intended to serve as a textbook or reference for printmaking students, it is very readable - especially since it includes a large collection of illustrations of relief prints from many artists, most of whom are also quoted describing their own techniques and preferences.* In terms of woodcut, he focuses on Western methods of engraving and woodblock printing, which is useful to me, in that I've only studied Japanese moku hanga methods. Though, that would be the one criticism; to be truly comprehensive, the book might have included more on Japanese and Chinese approaches to relief prints.

21. ghost by Alan Lightman. I've read a few of physicist-turned-novelist Alan Lightman's books and articles. I really enjoyed Einstein's Dreams, which was genuinely new and innovative. I have found some of his writing less to my taste. I wasn't sure what I was getting into with ghost. As it turns out, it's compelling and subtle novel about a man struggling to cope with something that defies characterization. David was always smart, but did not finish law school. He finds himself, divorced from a wife he adored and mystified how he lost his job at the bank. He takes a job at a mortuary, temporarily he thinks, because he needs a salary. There, in the resting room, he sees something. That is where his problems begin. How does he process what he's seen? What should he say or not say to the people in his life (his girlfriend, the people in his apartment building, his colleagues, and ultimately, the press and scientists who become embroiled in the story). This is a very earnest character-driven story, and the relationships between the characters are quite something. It's also a meditation on knowledge, the bounds of knowledge and superstition.

22. 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami I am a huge fan of Muraki; I've read every book which has appeared in translation: novels, short stories, non-fiction, even anthologies he's edited and a book about him by Jay Rubin (one of his main two translators into English).

1Q84 did not disappoint me; this is the hard-boiled, fantastic, supernatural Japan full of high and low culture (from ad slogans, to under-appreciated jazz clarinettists, to fashion, to cooking and to Proust and Chekov) like only he can write. The title is a play on words. In Japanese, 9 is kyu, and the title alludes to Orwell's 1984 and the setting, a strange version of 1984 Japan, where our heroine Aomame (literally her family name means 'green peas') finds more and more things are not what they were. She begins the novel stuck in traffic on an elevated expressway, to the sounds of Janáček's Sinfonietta, and her cabbie informs her that she could only make her meeting if she takes the unusual move of abandoning the cab, and climbing down the emergency staircase (in her designer suit and heels). He warns however, that things may change, and that there is only one reality. Not really remarking on his words, she takes the staircase to her important meeting, and finds herself in a different version of 1984, which she dubs 1Q84. The police have new uniforms and guns, since breakfast. She was somehow unaware of a big news story: a shootout between a militant faction of an organic-farm-cum-religious cult Sakigake and the police. Most damning, the moon now has a new smaller, greenish companion moon. Aomame's story is interwoven with that of Tengo Kawana, mathematics cram school teacher and budding novelist. Tengo is convinced to take part in a shady scheme to act as ghostwriter, for a strange 17 year old girl Fuka-Eri's stranger story 'Air Chrysalis'. As the novel unfolds we learn of the bond between Tengo and Aomame, though separated for 20 years, they fell in love at 10, before either really knew what that meant. Though Tengo excels in school and sports, he has an unhappy boyhood with his undemonstrative, demanding father who drags him door to door while he collects fees for the national NHK TV broadcaster. Aomame is likewise dragged door-to-door in the hopes of using guilt to get better treatment, by her mother, a devout follower of the Society of Witnesses. They intuitively recognize their akinness as children they spend the rest of the novel increasing seeking each other out.

This is a dark novel for Murakami. Though previous novels included occasional graphic violence or the terrors of war, this novel focuses more attention on domestic and sexual violence and abuse. Aomame goes from fitness and self-defense instructor to becoming involved in vigilante assassinations. There are a series of suicides, and several murders in this novel. Murakami is also investigating the nature of the religious cult in this fiction (after his extensive non-fiction investigation of members of the Aum Shinrikyo cult following their notorious sarin gas attack on the Tokyo subway system in 1995). Fuka-Eri, it turns out, based her 'Air Chrysalis' on her childhood experiences in the Sakigake compound. This being a Murakami novel, involves a dead, blind goat, the Little People and an air chrysalis, doppelgangers/alter egos and running away. Soon in Aomame's parallel story, she too finds herself embroiled with Sakigake. The 925-page novel (published as 3 books in Japanese) drags the reader into the 1Q84 otherworld. It is compelling, exciting, moving, disturbing, sad and hopeful. I couldn't put it down.**

I certainly recommend this novel; it is quite amazing. However, if you haven't previously read Murakami, start with A Hard-Boiled Wonderland at the End of the World or A Wild Sheep-Chase. I do think a caveat is necessary; this is a darker and more violent novel than his others. It also features various depictions of sex and sexuality (though the violence is mercifully 'off-stage'). It isn't a book for young people. I read three articles in The New York Times about it. One was a wide-eyed sort of interview, marveling at the inventiveness, strangeness and scope of the novel. The other was a mixed review, which criticized the moral ambivalence (after all, sexual abuse isn't a metaphor) but conceded that this book made the reviewer think much more than most. I think in some ways the lack of moralism is a strength because it forces the reader to grapple with hard questions (what is the solution to domestic violence, is vigilante justice warranted, what can and cannot be allowed as part of religion, what is evil). So I enjoyed the novel more than she, but her criticism seems just. The third article is a poor review, but someone with little patience for loose ends is perhaps reading the wrong novelist. I think this book is amazing, but I do recognize that it won't appeal to all.

{Series so far: books read, more books read, books read, books read continues, more books read, I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII,XIX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII XXIV, XXV, XXVI, XXVII, XXVIII, XXIX, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL,XLI, XLII, XLIII,
XLIV, XLV, XLVI}

*Because the world is very small, amongst the artists is 's father.
**If you wondered where I was last week, my world was coping with an ear infection and 1Q84.

Reading is sexy XLVI

(image source, could easily be a representation of a certain character)

You would be forgiven for assuming that I had given up reading, based on this blog, as I haven't posted anything about books since May! I have been reading, though not at my usual rate, what with all the travelling and so forth. Also, to be honest, Mason & Dixon almost did me in. It's one of those, excellent-but-a-real-slog kind of books. You might recall, when it was last mentioned, I'd read 200 pages, a mere quarter of the book. I wrote:

12. Mason and Dixon by Thomas Pynchon In which Mr. Pynchon's wild, Unfettered, Profound, tightly woven (and Sporadically, giving the Appearance, of Unhinged) Mind takes on the Lives of two Eighteenth Century English Astronomers, Servants of the Royal Society, now Best Rem'mbred for their Survey of of the Boundary of Pennsylvania and Maryland.... Though the language is suited to the protagonist's era (complete with unfathomable capitalization rules) and the narrative winding and non-linear, I'm 200 pages in and it's addictive. Only 600 more to go...

While less raucous than Gravity's Rainbow, it had level of detail and critical eye for history I've come to expect - both mentioning figures from the history of science like Bouguer, someone I would only expect geophysicists to know (and then, really, only those of us who work with potential fields methods, and I don't even expect anyone reading this to know what 'potential fields methods' means), and forcing me to reconsider my thoughts on General Wolfe. Dixon is identified as 'Geordie', and Wolfe's actions in Northern England, what today we would call union-busting, like his actions in Scotland (covered in the next novel I read) go beyond pragmatic into mercenary, despite the heroic image presented in Canadian history books. It does present an epic story just prior to and after the American Revolution (both George Washington and Benjamin Franklin appear as characters), but it is unflinching in detailing the violence including massacres of native people and the slave trade and its brutality, and the plight of women. Both Mason and Dixon are reminded of their time in South Africa, and are repulsed, the Quaker Dixon in particular. It wouldn't be Pynchon without the delightfully absurd Learnèd English Dog (L.E.D.), a chatty terrier, snooty pirates, the ghost of Mason's wife, sentient clocks (and Harrison's clock, of Longitude fame), a lovesick duck automaton chasing the object of her desire, a French master-chef through the woods, Jesuit plots and prostitute-nuns, a Chinese Jesuit Feng shui practitioner, serious coffee abuse, flying over leylines and a variety of magic accomplished through the magnetic and telluric fields of the earth, and the mysterious power of their surveyed line itself. It is epic, serious, absurd, and a touching tale of friendship between our odd couple, Mason and Dixon.

The excerpt is from PRINTERESTING, who were particularly amused by the "Print causes Civil Unrest". Perhaps that's my problem, I am both a printmaker and a coffee-drinker at sea.

13. No Great Mischief by Alistair MacLeod This is a novel of great beauty. I read it because RJH said it was one of his favorites; I am embarrassed to say I didn't know MacLeod (an amazing Canadian author) previously. The title brings us back to General Wolfe; it is a quotation from one of his letters arguing that Scottish Highlanders lead his troops into battle at the Plains of Abraham because, "they are hardy, intrepid, accustomed to a rough country, and no great mischief if they fall." It tells the story of the MacDonald family, through the eyes of Alexander MacDonald, now an orthodontist in Toronto. He recalls his childhood on Cape Breton Island, where he and his twin sister were raised by their grandparents, after a terrible accident on the ice, when his parents and brother were crossing to their lighthouse. It is also the story of his elder brothers, who grew up, half-wild in their ancestor and clan patriarch Calum Ruadh's home, and grow to be men who are expert miners, sent around the world, but longing for Cape Breton. It is the story of his grandparents, of the Island, of the entire mythic history of Clan Donald, of the Scots and their relationship with the French. Its characters are of such fullness and humanity that it is hard not to think this is a memoir, our narrator really knows and loves these people. Even the dog and horse worked their way into my heart. It's a love story about Cape Breton itself, but it also ties their exile to many who have to leave home, like the Mexican and Caribbean seasonal fruit pickers in Ontario, and it makes the story universal. It is about Home. Read it.

14. The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg by Mark Twain. A dark and amusing little satire about pride, honesty, and small town politics.

15. Sugar & Other Stories by A.S. Byatt. Byatt's first collection of stories has a recurring theme of death and how the surviving cope. There are some ghosts; both children and parents haunt this collection. There is injustice. There is suicide, accidental death and one, possible, future homicide. It's a dark little collection, not as sweet as the name implies.

16. Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype by Clarissa Pinkola Estés. Pinkola Estés is a Jungian analyst and storyteller. In this book about women's psychology, she approaches issues through the lens of fairytales and archetypes, employing stories and characters like Bluebeard, Baba Yaga, the Red Shoes and the Inuit Sealskin to provide insight. Each tale is interpreted as symbolic of a single female psyche; both Bluebeard and his bride, as well as her sisters are all aspects of a single mind. We have our own inner predators, but our own healers too. It's a style that is a bit foreign to me (I tend towards the literal and when in doubt, rely upon my logic and rational abilities) but I do love a good fairytale, and am certain there is both insight and sound advice within.

{Series so far: books read, more books read, books read, books read continues, more books read, I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII,XIX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII XXIV, XXV, XXVI, XXVII, XXVIII, XXIX, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL,XLI, XLII, XLIII,
XLIV,
XLV}