of werewolves, fairy tales and confusing acrobatics

We had book club this afternoon (I made frittata from this recipe, except with Gouda instead of Fontina), and discussed A Student of Weather. Now, I'm still stuck on the idea Elizabeth Hay was trying to tell her story in fairy-tale fashion.... And these lines from a Walrus profile of Michael Ignatieff gave me pause:

French Canadians grow up on the fable of the dark, handsome stranger who comes from the faraway city and woos the innocent farm girl with his honeyed words. Beware, goes the moral, for he is the loup-garou.

I've also been thinking lots lately about what it would be like to be a writer. This is in part because I've been reading (loving) Timothy Findley's Journeyman. Also, I was a titch inspired by Shelf Discovery (should I own to that?).

But, this afternoon, our little book club absolutely ripped apart a sex scene in A Student of Weather. (I'm not excerpting it here. But you can find it on p. 155 of the 2001 McLelland and Stewart paperback, should you happen upon it. Some readers might question whether the acrobatics described are physically possible.) And so, I can't help but wonder how scary it would be to put a sex scene out into the universe. Imagine a living room of individuals you don't know trying to figure out what you meant to say, or what image you were trying to draw? Intimidating....

desperately seeking....

OK, I've been trying to read Atonement, and I think it's a no-go for me at the moment.

To be clear, it's a lovely read. Ian McEwan, no surprise, is a beautiful writer. But in part, I'm suffering from having James McAvoy and Keira Knightley in my head, and so I long to skip forward and around to all the key parts from the movie. Now, it appears the film is a really good reflection of the novel. And so, the second problem I'm having is the darkness of the novel is a bit too much for me.

I had initially selected Atonement as follow-up to A Student of Weather in hopes I might find parallels between McEwan's young Briony and Hay's young Norma Joyce. And there are similarities -- a careful, obsessive attention to details, for example. But where Briony allows her imagination to get the better of her, Norma Joyce is decidedly manipulative and purposeful in orchestrating the small tragedies all around her.

So what to read instead? I'm considering Margaret Laurence's The Fire-Dwellers. Not sure it's a pick-me-up though.... Apparently all I want lately is froth, but I've filled my bookshelves with anti-froth.

(Shush, you who judge Jane Austen. She wrote novels that reflected the socio-economics of her time. She challenged our ideas of male-female relationships. Sort of.)

It is, nonetheless, my week off. So, I've had the chance to pick up on some of my favourite blogs, like The Keepin' It Real Book Club.

And, to evaluate deep thoughts:

Is Garfield funny?

If Carrie Bradshaw has always had poor taste in men, why -- oh why? -- wouldn't she ever grow out of that?

The Wooden Sky is pretty awesome.

Who would marry someone named Gooch?

Is this the beach of my dreams?

to 2010

1. Shannon's right. This is smile-inducing. I heart Pacey.

2. I probably heart Joseph Boyden more, though. I'm late telling you all I finished Through Black Spruce -- it was seriously drop-dead gorgeous. It's Boyden's way with dialogue that gets me, his ability to craft separate and complete characters through first-person narrative. Frankly, his voices of Canada's First Nations people are voices I never had the chance to read when I was a child, and I really hope his books are in Canadian classrooms today.

3. Speaking of first-person narrative, Jonathan Lethem's Motherless Brooklyn is a tough slog at first. At first, Lionel Essrog's Tourretic speech is grating, difficult to get into. But pages into the detective novel, it gets really, really good. Admittedly, where other book club members are big on plot, I tend to be big on character development. (Could I read Carol Shields if not?) I found both in this one, and am excited to read another Lethem novel soon.

4. Yes, as Erin pointed out the other night, Motherless Brooklyn will work its way to the big screen later this year, written, directed and starring Edward Norton.

5. On the themes of movies and men I heart, The Young Victoria. I have nothing else to say, really. Oh, yes, I have to marry Prince Albert.

6. Princes.... Michael Ignatieff could have been a prince. In that his grandmother was a princess. Weird, eh? I'm reading The Russian Album. It's absolutely fascinating -- he manages to hit this very academic understanding of his own family history, yet write in such a way that entertains (he did win the Governor General's Award, after all). And, had world history taken a different turn, he would be a Russian count. I know, I know -- like Tory researchers don't have enough to work with.

7. Although I've been big on memoirs lately, I decided to go with a novel for the next book club. We're reading Elizabeth Hay's A Student of Weather.

8. I have a good feeling about this year. I may actually get my own new year's resolutions done for once. More yoga, for example....

Cheers,
T.

1. How glad am I that blogger.com doesn't allow you to see how many people read your stuff? When it comes to this little space in the world wide web, I'm pleasantly clueless as to who really reads my posts. A couple friends, my parents.... I'll never know and I'm totally cool with that. My work blog, on the other hand, presents a dashboard that makes me absolutely crazy. I am bizarrely driven to load stuff onto the site in hopes of watching numbers go up, not down. This must be -- almost -- what it's like to be a TV reporter and have to live through sweeps. Gah.
2. Less about my neuroses, let's look at other people's.
3. This bookshelf reminds me of Lost. Only 46 more days until the season premiere!
4. Reading Margaret Laurence's The Diviners, I'm struck by how fake most descriptions of the Depression are when written by people who didn't live it. Sorry, that's a little unfair. Elizabeth Hay's A Student of Weather certainly speaks to a sheer grittiness of the times, and Richard B. Wright's Clara Callan covers off a sense of hopelessness. But Laurence's work is something else. You can almost smell the times in the pages. No one in Morag's childhood is beautiful, not even a little bit. Laurence does not put makeup on these people, she does not make them better than they are. She gives them massive fault lines that you could absolutely sink into if not for the fact she brings you back to her present (the 1970s) again and again.
5. I think we'd all like to know a little bit more about how this blind date ended. Because I'm thinking it couldn't have lasted very long. Perhaps Quebec's best friend called her on the phone to make sure she could escape after 30 minutes if things weren't going well. Yes, girls do do that.
6. More poetry, please. It's what a good life needs.

portension

So, there's the kind of foreshadowing you don't even notice until a book is done. Then you are compelled to return to the start of the novel to track back to the points you wished you'd noticed before. (See Unless, when we discover why the main character's daughter stopped talking, why she signed out of civilization.)

And there is the kind of foreshadowing that keeps bonking you over the head, reminding you again and again that something is going to happen. Elizabeth Hay's most recent novel, Late Nights on Air, falls in this category. I didn't mind it until a friend pointed it out, really. And until I started reading A Student of Weather, in which Hay also exercises a heavy hand in hinting at the future.

But in reading her debut novel, I came to realize foreshadowing -- when done best -- is like a red velvet ribbon twisted around and through a narrative, holding it together, making it stronger. Yes, there are a few plot twists I would have preferred to be surprised by, but Hay's choice to lay the groundwork early on better draws out the character of Norma Joyce. Hinting at all the fragmented pieces of Norma Joyce's heart, all the places she will go and see, helps the reader better understand this little girl who becomes a woman in 364 pages.

Most important, Hay clearly knows when to hold back. The twist that rips a hole in Norma Joyce's story is never, ever hinted at. It comes almost out of nowhere.

Norma Joyce Hardy is one of the most fascinating heroines I've ever read.... For so much of the book she's described as something of a gnome, a negative little beast more typical of a villain. And her actions are those of an anti-hero, at least early on. But Hay allows for Norma Joyce to age, to become an adult. To fade, if you will. It's not quite Anne Shirley becomes Anne Blythe or anything (a sad example of a spirited character killed by marriage, age and children), but it's a quieting of obsession.

And at its heart, A Student of Weather is the tale of an obsessive love that crosses decades. The object of Norma Joyce's affection reminds me of Hubbell -- there's a practiced carelessness to him. Will he ever change? Is there any hope?

"Oh, men with twinkling eyes. You should be strung up at birth." (p. 87)

Hay is a gorgeous, gorgeous writer (I really have to purchase and read Garbo Laughs). I can't say enough good things about her books, about the spells she casts in her stories, about her ability to make me read and read without ever wanting to put a novel down. Hers are, at their heart, simple Canadian stories told in a straightforward way, as if you were telling your best friend the highlights of your life story. These are stories of land and heart, of family and solitude. Hay lends such an importance to place, allowing Prairie fields, or Ottawa's Rideau Canal, or Yellowknife's Pilot's Monument to be characters of their own. Characters that fill in the blanks the way people never can.

A parting piece to take away from this fascinating tale:

"This is always central to old fairy tales, the prince's tendency to forget. But then maybe charm and forgetfulness always go together. Maybe forgetfulness allows you to be charming because people don't register enough to be a burden. And so the Prince Charmings forget their true loves until something reminds them, a shoe that fits, or a ring they recognize, or a wave of water in the face. Certainly in those heady days after his return, Norma Joyce did her best to be unforgettable." (p. 151)

insert relief here

Hello internet friends!

I feel like it's been ages since we last met.

In recent days, I have destroyed my computer. A computer virus took a page from Homer, and a Trojan invaded. Or so the kid at the store explained. Then he rebuilt everything. He treated me like a bit of a moron and at one point tried to talk to my male friend about my hard drive. It was not unlike that scene in Sex and the City where Carrie learns about backing up. Important lessons, but where does one put all these back-up disks?

The good news on the destroyed computer, by the way, is getting it fixed has made it all fast-like on the internet connection. The bad news is every single piece of fiction I've put to hard drive in the last three years is gone. Most of it was crappy, so it's not like a loss to humanity or anything. (Imagine if Chaucer had to navigate computers? and then screwed up?) But still.

At work, I have learned where I never, ever want to have a baby.

And, at home, I have been sucked into another Elizabeth Hay book -- despite what I must now admit is slightly over-the-top foreshadowing. But I think this bodes well for my ability to think at the same time as I work and do other activities.

So, time to sign off and get back to Hay's textured, Depression-era Prairie world. In the meantime, I offer you deep thoughts on the future of marketing literature. (Thanks to Sarah!)

book-keeping

Just a couple quick notes:

• For book-clubbers, I haven't forgotten to send out an e-mail about our date to discuss Douglas Coupland's Hey Nostradamus! Will update y'all this week.
• I've taken a wee break from the Important Male Authors push. Put it to holidaying, put it to my love of Elizabeth Hay. (I love Elizabeth Hay, and despite my possessions purge, I bought another book of hers this weekend. But at the Wee Book Inn, so it was more like I was doing research on how to sell books. Maybe? I also bought Northanger Abbey.) Currently I am reading a book written by a friend, but soon I will get back to men. I'm thinking Atonement....
• I gave away my copy of Anna Karenina. Sorry, friends. But my brother wanted to take a spin at Tolstoy.... And maybe I was never going to finish it. We'll never really know.
• Emily Giffin has a new book on store shelves! I know that liking Emily Giffin is barely half a step up from liking Sophie Kinsella. I accept this about myself.
• I bought Certain Girls while in London. Haven't had a chance to read it yet, but was thrilled to have the UK version, which is in paperback already and surprisingly cheaper than the North American hardcover even after doing the math of converting pounds to dollars.
• Have I already mentioned how much I love how Brits love books? I know that's a weird thing to say, but they have book ads everywhere, on billboards and along Tube station walls. Last month, the big push was on to sell Naomi Klein's Shock Doctrine. It's so weird to be somewhere other than Canada and see Naomi Klein looking so seriously at you, perhaps judging you for caring so much about whether your jeans are stylish or if you have the right shoes....