memoirs 2011

I've never skipped a whole month of blogging on this site before. And I don't know whether to apologize -- because, really, I'm sure your lives were perfectly complete without my thoughts on books -- or haphazardly list the novels I've had a chance to read since last posting (Garbo Laughs; Starter for Ten; The Fire-Dwellers; Story House; A Bird in the House).

So, instead, let's move forward. Let's call it 2011 and talk about one of my book obsessions: Memoirs written by people who live with one toe in the "modern" world and one toe in an "orthodox" world. (Is this a terrible way of describing the central conflict in books like The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance?) So, adding to my '11 wish list: Mennonite in a Little Black Dress.

Other memoirs on the reading list? Poser: My Life in 23 Yoga Poses. Even if The Telegraph didn't like it and dragged poor Jennifer Aniston into the mix.

character

Weird admission: I grew up around every kind of Mormon kid you can think of, and yet I have rarely thought about how sex and Mormonism (don't) mix.

And when I say "every kind of Mormon kid you can think of," I am indeed talking about, well, Bountiful.

So, The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance -- as a memoir -- could not possibly be more of a departure from my idea of what it means to be Mormon than you could get. Here we have a young woman -- a year younger than me, actually, and I'm trying not to think about what that says about what I've accomplished so far in my life -- struggling to be a good Christian and a modern woman. Perhaps, on the surface, that leads one to imagine a story of 1. a series of bad dates, 2. leaving her religion behind altogether or 3. finding the man of her dreams and living happily ever after.

But memoirs are real life, and Elna Baker brings so much more than you might imagine to the page. Here is a Mormon girl with great (often hilarious) parents, who wants desperately to lose weight, who corners herself into "happily ever after" and then has to figure out what that might actually mean.

It's brilliant. Laugh-out-loud, close-your-eyes-because-it's-too-awkward, learn-about-Mormon-underwear, remember-your-first-kiss, remember-your-first-heartbreak, remember-who-you-are brilliant.

Bizarre example -- perhaps not the best, other parts of her story are so much better, but I don't want to ruin them for you, and this illustrates Baker's unique neuroses --

"As I sat across from Jeff, I could think only of the things that would happen to me if I did something impure like let a man touch my boobs. My body was a temple and I needed to respect it as such and not defile it. The things I did with other people before I was married would limit my ability to completely love my partner because it introduced an element of comparison. Sexual acts were supposed to make me feel unholy in the presence of God, like my light had been diminished. I thought about what Mormons call the 'eternal consequences' of your actions: Sexual immorality is the second worst sin, the first being murder...." (p. 63)

You might -- if it doesn't make you throw up in your mouth -- call it a "coming of age" memoir.

And on that note, I'm going to mention I finished reading The Stone Angel a couple days ago.

I kind of can't believe I only discovered Margaret Laurence this year. Like, can I really have called myself a book snob before 2009 if I hadn't read Laurence? I love her. I love that reading her work makes me feel more connected to Canadian history, and specifically a younger kind of Canadian history that starts west of southern Ontario. I am charmed and made uncomfortable by her characters, their loves, their mistakes, and their never-resting unhappiness with their lives. I loved The Diviners, I liked A Jest of God, and I fricking can't believe I lived before meeting Hagar Shipley. Could there be a character more self-aware, regretful and watchful, who also manages to know absolutely nothing of herself? I actually laughed out loud in one spot of the book, when she is drinking with a stranger in an abandoned fish warehouse; he tells her of his wife, she says, "Well, the poor thing.... Fancy spending your whole life worrying what people were thinking. She must have had a rather weak character." (p. 227)

Ah, Margaret Laurence -- how you winked at your readers.

remember who you are

Ok, this might be my favourite book dedication ever:

Mom and Dad,

I could never have done this without your faith, support, and constant encouragement. Thank you for teaching me to believe in myself, in God, and in my dreams.

This book...aside from the nine F-words, thirteen Sh-words, four A-holes, page 257, and the entire Warren Beatty chapter...is dedicated to you.

You might want to avoid chapters twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, anything I quote Mom saying, and most of the end as well.

Sorry. Am I still as cute as a button?

Love,

Elna

Cute, right? It's from The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance. So far, hilarious.

I'm in the mountains for a few days, and have a pile of books to read. Literally, a pile. Think Cameron Diaz in The Holiday. Yes, I watched that movie. What of it?

My get-relaxed-quick readings include:

Margaret Laurence's The Fire-Dwellers (a companion, it appears, to Laurence's A Jest of God);

Margaret Atwood's The Edible Woman;

Michael Ignatieff's The Russian Album;

Rajaa Alsanea's Girls of Riyadh;

Lizzie Skurnick's Shelf Discovery;

Karen Blixen's Out of Africa;

Joseph Boyden's Through Black Spruce;

and Elizabeth Hay's Garbo Laughs.

Yes, lugging this many books through an airport does land you in a conversation with security folks who have novel suggestions. (Apparently I should read Cormac McCarthy.)

in defense of consumption?

Things I miss about Ottawa:

1. Perfect bagels.

2. Perfect candy.

3. Perfect jewellery.

4. Perfect Books.

So, needless to say.... I'm a titch broke at the moment. And this blog post is brought to you by, erm, consumerism.

But you're dying to know what I bought on Elgin Street, aren't you?

Well, to start, the book I'm least excited about -- Benny and Shrimp. I can't decide if this one's going to be a sweet romance novel or a funny journey to another world (Sweden!) or, well, sucky. I'll report back.

The book I'm most excited about is a memoir. I know, I said I was going to stop with the memoirs. But how can a person not be intrigued by the title, The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance. Yeah, that's right. No one doesn't want to read this book.

Also on the memoir front, Shelf Discovery: The Teen Classics We Never Stopped Reading. Judy Blume! A Wrinkle in Time! Jennifer Weiner! I can't believe Winter Dreams, Christmas Love is not included in the contents.

For -- what I hope will be -- a good laugh, I veered into boy world with I Love You, Beth Cooper. Larry Doyle is a Simpsons writer. I have high expectations.

Off the shopping list, I was the benefactor of a series of suggestions from friends and family. And so, I have two more books waiting for me -- Jonathan Lethem's The Fortress of Solitude and Michael Pollan's In Defense of Food. The second, I hope, will aid in some real-life research I'm doing. The first, I believe, will help me become as smart as my brilliant brother, the PhD candidate and recent M.A. graduate.

On the topic of recommendations, by the way, some new music (to me): She&Him, Big Mama Thornton, Monsters of Folk and the Whip It soundtrack.