two more sleeps

What I learned from book club today....

1. There is another book, also by the name of Cloud Atlas. Or actually, The Cloud Atlas.
2. The Cloud Atlas at hand, however, is about man's predatory nature. Or so my friends tell me.
3. I should also be reading Salman Rushdie. How have I not gotten on that?
4. And Oscar Wilde.
   

In other news....

The FT decided not to go Obama-related in its books section this weekend. But it never hurts to contemplate how Google has become a verb and a starting point for virtually everything in our universe....

John McCain was on Saturday Night Live this weekend. It hurt to watch. Like Stephane Dion in the English debate, when he turned to the camera and said, "Don't believe this man." Oy.

Washington Post + book blog = Nov. 4 talk, of course. It's, like, three breaths away from Nov. 4, people! Eeee....

Last of all, for S., a dreamy tour of Calgary. You's got places to go, girl. Ooh -- and look who else is headed to Cowtown? Clearly this is a happening place :)

love, love, love....

It’s gorgeous out there today, so I’m keeping this short.

First off, welcome to November! No snow on the ground yet! (Knock on wood. Apologies now to all fellow Edmontonians if I jinxed us.) I feel like this is going to be a good month. A great month. A month of blogging in a timely fashion.

Admittedly, I’m not off to a fantastic start. In about 24 hours I am expected to meet at book club to discuss a novel of which I have read 40 pages. Despite T’s advice not to leave it to the last minute. Note to self: Always, always listen to T.

What I did read while on vacation, however, was this.

Oh, come on!

It’s all in good fun. Author Jennifer Cox preps herself to go on 80 dates with men all over the world -- it’s real-life rom-com! Exactly the kind of travel book I can buy into, because apparently I’ve become the most romantic person ever lately. All cuddly and smiley. Don’t worry -- I will get over it.

So, this woman went out there, into the world, to find her soul mate, on the theory we all spend so much time at work these days we take no time for romance. And any time we do take is from the seat in front of our computers. And why don’t we treat our love lives with the same focus and attention we treat our jobs? Why not be goal-oriented? Why not write out your relationship resume, then make all your friends set you up on a series of dates that really do take you hop scotching across continents?

Well, maybe because it’s a bit irritating. And crazy. And does anyone want to admit to being so obsessed with finding a mate? Not to mention, does anyone actually have time for this?

But the thing is, Cox comes across as super endearing (for most of the book -- towards the end, the inevitable happens and she starts to sound like one of your friends who Won’t Stop Talking About Themselves and you kind of want to toss the whole thing, content in the knowledge she’s content despite her bitching). And her dates are actually interesting. Some are completely over the top -- apparently men in every single non-land-locked place on earth think a romantic date involves a big… boat…. Others are brutally hilarious -- at one point, she finds herself getting a foot rub with a date when her masseuse discovers a disgusting wart and hacks it out mid-conversation. Yikes. I laughed out loud on the plane, couldn’t help myself.

And some of her dates simply aren’t dates. This saves the book, too, because at points you need a break to enjoy the scenery and pure quirkiness of humanity as much as she does. She spends a quiet afternoon at Jim Morrison’s grave in Paris, and has a fascinating conversation with a “love professor” in Sweden. She goes on a date with Romeo, and meets a man dedicated to a love long dead…. (sorry, but I thought it was super creepy)….

At times, her writing devolves into Carrie Bradshaw-esque questioning: “Clearly the Laureates were accomplished, unique people. But was being accomplished and unique at the expense of something more everyday and vital to our happiness? In short, to be a great idealist did you need to be pretty self-centred and emotionally unavailable? Were they just a smarter, more noble version of me: choosing a job over a partner? But since they were making the world a better place rather than writing about where to go on holiday, did that make it okay?” (p. 96)

But mostly, the book is a romp. A silly, easy-to-read, not un-educational romp.

notes

Apologies off the bat for being out of touch. I've been working a lot lately, and blogging elsewhere, and hanging out with my mom, and making art and still reading Paul Wells.

(This, for example, made me laugh out loud last night: "But the reason the word no-brainer exists is that sometimes people have no brains." p. 126)

But now I have two notes to offer. One, about a new online serial novel.

And one from my friend Tej:

Good afternoon friends,

This book club choice has certainly caused its fair share of stress.

Weighing all considerations, contemplating the embarrassment of choices, wading through personal tastes, being mindful of people's times and stress levels has made times testy in the Z-S household. I grumbled about our difficulties to Erin, who suggested we arm wrestle over the choice. It wasn't a bad idea as, in the interests of feminism, I let Alex win 50 per cent of the time. But the process seemed barbaric, and required too much effort. Much rather hash it out the hard way. Arguments, frowns and many declarations of "you-don't-know-what-you-are-talking-about-,-Tej" have laid the foundation for, what will hopefully be, your reading project for the next couple of weeks. We hope you enjoy it, and come around our way for discussions and snacks.

The Choice:

David Mitchell is a better writer than you or I.

I know I say this in an email that has a recipient list top-heavy with journalists, and excellent journalists at that. But David Mitchell is a better writer than you or I. You will see that when you read Cloud Atlas, Mitchell's third book, and sublime masterpiece.

The plot of the book is hard to explain, and you wouldn't want me to go into details. The delight of the book is within its unfolding, as it rushes from one section to the next, revealing itself in parts, becoming larger, a giant, before folding itself up again, delivering its message, and leaving you with its questions and implications. In my humble estimation, it is a crime that Cloud Atlas did not win the Booker Prize (for which it was short-listed, and for which it created controversy when it did not win), as it is among the best books written in the last 10 years. Hell, the last 25 years.

I've read the book three times. The first time, I read it twice in a row. But when I first cracked it, I almost put it away and didn't read it all. The first section takes some work to get used to, it requires some effort. Trust me, your mind will warm to the style, and your curiosity will be tickled. The first section is not that long and, if you make it to the second section, you'll be hooked, and in for the ride of your life. I hope you will find it as satisfying as I have found it over the years.

Don't let my warning scare you off. This is a book, if you give it time, you will want to finish. That said, it's not a small book, so the sooner you start the better.We have suggested October 26 as the date of the next book club. If the date doesn't work for you, please let us know. To entice you, we will have some brunch goodies prepared for you to enjoy. What exactly we'll have prepared is something Alex and I have left for further negotiations. Maybe we should just arm wrestle over it.