January 5th, 2010

Hearts and stars to 2009

Ok, I’m lagging behind but I am still thinking about 2009 and trying to think of an appropriate tribute. Just to be clear, this was a year I liked *very* much, but I don’t think all the highlights are blog-appropriate (every cookie I ate and person I hugged and time a civil servant was extra nice to me could get dull, not to mention unwieldy). So I’m concentrating on bookish highlights–they are, after all, often the most interesting parts of my day.

Books read: 69 (ha!)

Books written: 1/2 of one (hiatus’d); 1/2 of another (promising!)

Regrets regarding the first of those: none that I wrote it, none that I stopped (right now, at least; I’m a little moody on this subject)

Best reading experience: Tongue by Kyung-Ran Jo over the course of two days in July, while lying in the grass in various public parks in Toronto. This was very much not the best book I read in 2009–in fact I have a lot of problems with it that I’m dying to discuss (any takers?) But it certainly is suspenseful and I was very eager to find out what happened, and I had nothing to do but keep reading in the glorious sunshine, interrupted only by bathroom breaks, eating on patios and conversations with my equally bookish companion. There aren’t many better weekends, I’d say.

Best CanLit in-joke that I actually got: In the novella “Gator Wrestling” in Leon Rooke’s The Last Shot. This is a stellar piece, even if you never get the joke–it’s just the sprinkles on already overwhelmingly delicious frosted cake. Conversely, there are likely many jokes I didn’t get in books I’ve read this year–but how good were those books to start with?

December 18th, 2009

Rose-coloured Reviews *The Hitchhikers’ Guide to the Galaxy* by Douglas Adams

I am rereading my old Hitchhikers’ omnibus partly in response to Rosalynn and Catherine’s dialogue on rereading. I used to reread like crazy–there are books on this earth that I have read close to 20 times–but as I age, more and more I feel the cold hand of mortality on my shoulder as I read, and I fear I won’t get to read all the books I want even once in my life, and this stops me from doing much rereading.

Thus, a lot of books are frozen in my mind the way I read them and thought about them when I was a whippersnapper–I say something’s “brilliant” but don’t take into account that my 15-year-old mind may have been easier to impress than it is now.

I loved the Hitchhikers’ Guide to the Galaxy series with all my tiny geeky heart when I was a teenager. So when I found out that, after Adams’s death, some totally other person was writing a sixth book in the series, I was incensed. I could say, “Those books are perfect, Adams was unique, and this is a terrible idea.” But I hadn’t read those books in at least a decade, so what did I know?

So the other reason for rereading is to have some context by the time Eoin Colfer‘s book, titled *And Another Thing*, comes out in paperback. I want to read it, certainly, and give it a fair shake–not wrapped up in nostalgia.

I first came upon these books because I picked up the fourth title in the series (it was originally a trilogy that overspilled its limits). I read it because it was called So Long and Thanks for All the Fish and in those days I picked up any book with a funny title and read almost everything I picked up. (Other hits from that period include Elvis Jesus Coca Cola, Lady Slings the Booze, and The Paper Grail).

Of all those “funny title” reads, I loved *Fish* the most, and so went back to the beginning and read the whole series, and then the scripts for the radio show on which it was based (those made little sense to me; too much British humour, perhaps?), all the other books Adams wrote. And I watched the old film based on the book/show (the new one makes a lot more sense, by the way) and tried to get the old BBC tv show based on same, though I think by that point even my adolescent geek enthusiasm tapped out.

So it was in at least one sense very very nice to go back once more and read the old omnibus introduction, which endeavours to set the record “firmly crooked” in explaining the books’ path to creation. I probably could have read it more objectively if parts of the intro hadn’t been my grade 11 drama monologue, which I had (and apparently still have) memorized.

Then into the story–you know that story. Arthur Dent being sleepy and baffled, Ford Prefect being suave and fatalistic, saving Arthur while the rest of the earth is destroyed by a race called Vogons from a distant plant because they are creating a hyperspace expressway.

And their adventures therewith: cruising the galaxy, they run into Ford’s semi-cousin, Zaphod Beeblebrox, erstwhile president of the galaxy, and the pretty lil thing he picked up on earth, Tricia McMillan (whose name he has condensed, naturally, to Trillian). And their impossibly weird spaceship, the Heart of Gold, and Marvin the Paranoid Android, their robot. And the contented doors, and…oh, it’s all so funny and silly and great.

I love all these characters so much that the nostalgia followed me into the present reading–it took me a while to start reading like my 31-year-old self. The first clue that I could be critical was when I noticed that Ford Prefect’s name was explained twice (he’s an alien seeking to blend in on earth, and chose a name that seemed to him common among dominant lifeform, but turned out to be the name of a British subcompact car). A little editorial drop that has survived 20 years of re-issues…or maybe Adams worried readers wouldn’t catch the joke.

Whatevs. Adams is *such* an imaginative thinker that it’s totally natural, no matter what your age, to fall under his spell. The flights of fancy are thrilling, like a ship that runs on an Infinite Improbability drive: in can do anything, provided it is told exactly how improbable that thing is. The book, *The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy* exists in this fictional world to calm and instruct the characters, but it is also a pretty top-heavy expositional device. Every time Adams wants to insert some new crazy planet/lifeform/foodstuff he just makes up, he has one of the characters read about it in the guide and the narrative reproduces the whole page of info. It’s really funny, so one is often distracted from the fact that that’s bit sloppy storytelling, doncha think?

Although this is a book by, for, and about adults, there is a ring of adolescent idyllicness and naivete here that I don’t think I am importing. Everyone is always moments away from death, but no one (besides a sperm whale) dies onstage. Of course, all of earth and its inhabitants are destroyed, but this is treated as a rather larky bad moment rather than a soul-destroying tragedy for the two remaining Earthlings.

People occasionally make fun of me for taking *So Long…* as my favourite Hitchhikers’ book. They dismiss it as the “romantic one”, but the fact is it is the only book in the series in which man-woman relationships make even a touch of sense (this is not a critique, but just a note: everyone in this version of the galaxy appears to be heterosexual). In this first book (the one that I am ostensibly reviewing here, in case you forgot), Trillian is the woman who travels around with Zaphod and “tells him what she thinks of him.” The relationship is left at that, but she did leave her home planet to be with him. I wonder if they’re snogging?

But I am being pennyante–this isn’t photorealist stuff, it’s semi-satire. Not satire of science-fiction but using the form of sci-fi to satirize real-life (I think). It’s sharp and believeable, within it’s own parameters, with a few (not all) well-drawn characters. The only other complaint I could possibly level against the book is that because this first book was based on several in a series of radio plays, it doesn’t quite have the structure of a self-contained book. The five books perhaps somewhat have a single structure, but not quite that either–they basically all blur into one hilarious episodic adventure.

I’ve already started reading the second book in the series, *The Restaurant at the End of the Universe* (always with the good titles, Adams–my favourite books of his are actually the Dirk Gently books: *Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency* and *The Long Dark Teatime of the Soul* [possible the best title in the history of books]). I’m finding as I try to write this review, I’m finding that bits of *Restaurant* are getting mixed up with the first book in my mind and I’ve got to be careful to reference the right book.

For example, I wanted to tell you that possible my favourite conversation-quashing line was in this book, but it’s actually in *Restaurant*–I’ll share it anway:

“Don’t try to outweird me, three-eyes. I get stranger things than you free with my breakfast cereal.”

Nuff said.
RR

November 4th, 2009

In very brief

1) Montreal est magnificique! J’etais la pour un presentation des livres a Librairie Drawn & Quarterly avec Kathleen Winter et Amy Jones (on peut voir leurs perspectives sur notre presentations si on lit ses blogs. Notre publie Dan Wells a conduit son minivan, beaucoup des livres, Amy et moi (je pense qu’il y a un probleme de verb avec cette phrase, et peut-etre la plupart de cette paragraphe) et c’etait un adventure magnifique.

2) I was the Inconstant Muse for Hallowe’en! It was was awesome. Like most of my highly conceptual [confusing] costumes, this one requires some explanation: I picture the Muse a bit coquettish/flirty/slutty–she is all eager to hook up and give writers great ideas, but then she takes off and leaves you to execute the idea all alone. So my costume was a brief toga, some laurel leaves, and great first lines of books written in Sharpie all over my arms and legs. Conceptual, I tell you.

3) This hydro-metre thingy is the best: a way to be environmentally friendly in a vaguely competitive, entirely trackable way: you get to see your hour-to-hour, day-to-day energy use, and pinpoint where you are over-indulging in “peak” (ie., most expensive) energy. I don’t have most of the big appliances (dishwasher, laundry/drier, air conditioner) so even at optimal efficiency my savings would still be minimal, but it is so attractive to see it all laid out in colourful drafts. I hope I don’t get obsessed.

4) My post about TTC seating etiquette got picked up on the Maisonneuve blog. This is a silly thing to post here, as if you are a regular Rose-coloured reader, you’ve likely already read that piece, but I am chuffed the Maisonneuve-sters thought it was worth reposting, and Rose-coloured is for all things I’m chuffed about (except the post in question, actually, which is rather snarky).

5) Tomorrow night, I head for the hills, by which I mean Edmonton and the mountains beyond, as well as my incredible friend AMT. I’ll only be gone 5 days, and likely there can be some remote posting, but whenever I leave my comfortable internet orbit, there is a risk of non-access, so you may not hear from me until next week. I’m sure you’ll be just fine without me!

RR

November 2nd, 2009

Reminder

that Amy Jones, Kathleen Winter and I are reading tomorrow at the Drawn & Quarterly store in Montreal, 211 rue Bernard West, at 7pm. And that it’s going to be awesome. And…yay!

I’m inarticulate because of being really really tired from Hallowe’en, which was also awesome, but went on an extra hour due to Daylight Savings, and then some, because my friends are cool and I try to keep up. I’m planning to sleep…now, pretty much, so I should be in better form by the time I’m in front of any audience tomorrow.

See you there?
RR

October 28th, 2009

Autobiographical Fiction and the Spectre of Mary Sue

Though my stories use plenty from the purportedly “real” world, I don’t write much autobiographical fiction. I know many authors use their lives on the page to brilliant effect, but the few times I’ve done it, the process made me miserable and took forever. It’s very very hard to transform oneself and people one cares about into characters, and the reason (for me) is that I can’t be as dispassionate, as clear-eyed and insightful about myself as I can about someone I made up, with whom I have no personal connection (because they are not a real person, and not available to form a connection).

Like um, this blog? In case you didn’t know? It’s really really biased. I avoid blogging anecdotes that make me look like (too much of) a moron, don’t discuss complicated moral decisions I made and later regretted, or other ways in which I might have let people down.

Those are shortcuts that aren’t available in fiction or at least not in the sort of fiction I (want to) write, I can’t blink at the characters’ flaws, let them get away with dubious actions, or valorize tepid behaviour. Even though the people aren’t real, they have real flaws and failings, and I care about writing those carefully, honestly.

I care about being honest about my own failings, too, but I find that incredibly difficult to do in public, with an audience. When I attempt to render something that happened to me in fiction, I often wimp out without realizing it, and wind up writing something that lets the “me” character off the hook or else pushes her forward in an unearned “hero” role. I have long-since learned that no matter how much an author likes her characters, you can’t have “favourites”–a really hard rule to enforce if a character is based on your brother, your beloved, or yourself.

A Mary Sue is a character in fiction that is (or the reader thinks is) a version of the author that is used a wish-fulfillment device in the story. It’s the dowdy girl who turns out to be the only one who can repair the engine in time to return to battle–and that’s when the sergeant notices her quiet yet tantalizing beauty. It’s the nerdy boy who just happens to be there when the head cheerleader falls in the lake–and the only one who bothered to learn mouth-to-mouth, and the possessor of surprisingly soft yet firm lips.

The term “Mary Sue” comes from the land of fan fiction, which is stories written about characters from TV shows, books and movies by their fans, for personal enjoyment and sharing with friends (not publication, cause that’s dubious copyright territory). But it applies in literary fiction too, I think–sometimes a fascinating event from real life doesn’t work in fiction because there are too many surrounding personalities and emotions and tensions that the author can’t manage on the page. Those things get edited out, and what we are left with a sublime perfect character who understands everything and everyone and never falls down in the parking lot.

I’m on this topic for a couple of reasons, not least the hysterical bit above from the Write Badly Well blog (thanks to AMT for the link). But more, it’s hearing Carrie Snyder read some really amazing autobiographical fiction, at the launch for the new issue of The New Quarterly, which features same.

Snyder’s story “Rat” is wonderful not only because it evokes the place and experience (a child emigrates with her family to Nicarauga) perfectly, but because the child’s POV is supplemented by a more omniscient third-person narrator. Thus, we do not end up with one of contemporary literature’s stock figures–the “wise beyond her years” “preternaturally intelligent” child-narrator. Sometimes this works beautifully, but often an author using remembered childhood incidents cannot help but load in adult insight and contextualizing, and we end up with an unrealisitically brilliant and insightful child–a character who knows more than all the others, and can do no wrong…a Mary Sue.

Snyder’s central character, Juliet, is smart but not insanely so–she understands more than the adults think she does, but she still misses a lot. The 3rd person narrator fills in the gaps in insight in a striking, sometimes shocking way. I’ve only heard a condensed version of this story read aloud, and I’m really looking forward to reading it at leisure when my issue of TNQ shows up (c’mon, Canada Post).

It’s always nice to reminded that although something is hard, it can be done extraordinarily well by an author with perspecitive and talent. Almost makes me want to try again myself…almost.

RR

October 26th, 2009

Readings A-Go-Go

Heyas! I am doing a *semi-spontaneous* reading on Wednesday (in my world, three days notice counts as spontaneous!) at Art Word in Hamilton. It’s part of Dave Pomfret’s Artshare series, so if you make it out, expect process-talk from songwriters, playwrights, and page-writers like myself, as well as reading and maybe even music. Should be awesome.

Also, now the the Montreal reading that I’m doing next Monday has a poster:

Nice, isn’t it?

RR

October 24th, 2009

Break

If you count the week as Saturday to Friday, I attended four literary events this week, and spent a similar number of evenings up after midnight. I also did some work, two readings, saw a bunch of awesome people and took some fair-to-middling pictures. And now am so very very tired.

And now, though of course have blogged *The New Quarterly*’s fall launch for you despite any exhaustion, I have a delightful break, because Alex James, who provided the musical accompaniment to the evening, is also a profession blogger, and has a wonderful (and flattering!) post about the event. Hooray! It really was a terribly fun night, with so many friendly writers and delicious food only one jack-knifed tractor-trailer (my publisher, Dan Wells spent only five or so hours on the highway to be there and bring us books!)

So that’s it–I can concentrate on small, easy, non-exhausting tasks for the rest of the weekend–Hallowe’en shopping at Zellers, getting the DVD player to work long enough to play the last two episodes of season one of Slings and Arrows (the first tv show in a long time that I’ve been willing to argue with the DVD player for), maybe a nap in there somewhere.

Weekends are nice, and I hope you enjoy yours! Seeya Monday!
RR

October 22nd, 2009

Entertainments

Depending on your mood and inclination, you might enjoy one or several of the following:

–A beautiful and very sexy duet of “Emmanuel” by trumpeter Chris Botti and violinist Lucia Micarelli (via Leon via Mark)

–So this Dresden Cloak is pretty good: 42 3rd Act Twists (my favourite: “Ancient Druids lose interest”) is only the latest of a number of amusing things from the site Scott’s sent me lately (er, via Scott, obviously).

–Tonight, Amy Jones, Carrie Snyder and myself read at ArtBar in Kitchener to celebrate The New Quarterly’s new issue. I am very excited, and would be delighted to see you there.

–Tomorrow night is the Peep Show at the international festival of authors, hosted by Hal Niedzviecki and featuring a number of authors, including Lauren Kirshner and Dani Couture. See Dani peep it up on her blog.

RR

October 20th, 2009

Metcalf-Rooke stuff

Y’all know that Amy Jones’ book launch is tonight, right? Ushering in a new era of Metcalf-Rooke awesomeness. Though I seem to have a tiny angry bird living in my left temple, I’m going to be there–and if I can do it, so can you!!

And then on Thursday, Amy and I and Carrie Snyder are reading at the New Quarterly issue launch at the Art Bar in Kitchener, which should be awesome. Provided the bird is free by then. Or dead, I suppose. I should not come up with metaphors when I’m feeling poorly. Glad I’ll have articulate folks to listen to tonight.

RR

Ottawa is Awesome

So I went to Ottawa this weekend to do a reading at the famous Manx pub (note that this link mentions an actual Manx cat but I failed to see one. I wonder if they meant a painting??) Anyway, I heart Ottawa and have some awesome friends there, but still I was frightened because it was my first solo reading. On a slate of three or so readers, as I usually am, some pressure is taken off because I can think to myself, “Well, he’s really good and she’s really good, so even if I just keel over after the intro, the audience will get a pretty good night out of it.”

Of course that didn’t happen and the reading went well (they almost always god well, I know I know; this has nothing to do with me freaking out or not). In case you weren’t there and feel sad that you missed it, here’s the play-by-play (thanks to G. for stellar photography).