December 28th, 2010

Reverb 28

What’s the thing you most want to achieve next year? How do you imagine you’ll feel when you get it? Free? Happy? Complete? Blissful? Write that feeling down. Then, brainstorm 10 things you can do, or 10 new thoughts you can think, in order to experience that feeling today. (Author: Tara Sophia Mohr) (www.reverb10.com)

One thing I have learned from Reverb is that I cannot introspect for a month straight without starting to repeat myself. As I have said several times this month, the big things I want to do in 2011 is move and start a new book. There are other things I want to *happen* in 2011–*The Big Dream* being published, safe delivery of my friend M’s new baby, world peace–but I can’t really affect those. Of things I have control over, moving and the new book are paramount.

How will I feel when I live somewhere else? Uh, happy? But achieving any goal would make me happy. How about, less like someone is going to steal my bathtowel out of the basement washing machine? (this happened) Less convinced it’s only a matter of time until I get bedbugs? Oh, here’s a good one: more mature. This because I have never discarded a piece of furniture once I’ve acquired it, and I have only acquired a couple new things since I graduated undergrad. So basically, my apartment still looks like student housing and I’m about ready to be done with that.

The first two, there’s simply no way I can feel that way unless I move. For the third…I suppose maturity comes from within, I just have to *think* that way and I will feel it, blah blah blah. In reality, all steps towards the move–talking, planning, searching the listings, giving away/sorting my stuff, all feels like useful progress. So we’ll count those. Other things that make me feel mature but are somewhat unrelated to moving…doing a good job at work, not feeling awkward at a party (doesn’t happen all that often), giving gifts (who knows why for that last one, but I always do).

This is sort of a random exercise, because I don’t frankly care what *else* I can do to feel like I would if I moved; I want to actually do *that* and be done with it.

December 27th, 2010

Canada Reads Independently: *Play the Monster Blind*

For those not familiar with the (wonderful) concept, Canada Reads Independently is Kerry Clare’s companion project for the CBC’s Canada Reads. Both programs have 5 books as defended by 5 panelists, and then in some way a winnowing down to one winner. CRI’s panelists are bit more literary than CR’s, and they also have a bit more invested in the project, having chosen books that they love deeply rather than picking from a list.

And the books they’ve brought to the table this year (and last, too–which was the first year of Canada Reads Independently) are just a fascinating collection. I am bad about following reading schedules, I tend to get distracted, but when I saw that Lynn Coady’s *Play the Monster Blind* was panelist Sheree Fitch’s choice, I knew I’d read at least one from the CRI list.

*Play the Monster Blind* is a book my friends have been recommending to me for years as “your kind of book.” It’s Coady’s second book, her first story collection, and an absolute stunner. The stories are rich, taut, and funny, about characters with flaws and and quirks and weird ideas, people you feel like I could know. What can I say, I have smart friends.

The book’s most obvious aspect is its unidealized Maritime settings. The characters in this book live tightly inside their lives and their social relationships; the potential glories of land- and seascapes in the Martimes exist not only outside their towns, but outside their lives. The only time in the book that anyone remarks on natural beauty at all is in the last story, “A Nice Place to Visit,” about an east coast girl visiting Vancouver Island. I did not always find *Play* the best ordered book, but that joke was awfully clever.

If the setting is not a character in the story, it is imbued into each each personality that takes the stage. I’m the last person who can guess the level of accuracy in the accents (if you add up all my trips to different Atlantic provinces, I’ve been there for slightly less than 3 weeks all told). But I know the rhythms *sound* right, like real people talking but no one *I* know, weird slang you have to say aloud to make sense of, and the liberal use of “Jesus” as an adjective (would it be unliterary of me to say that that was one of my favourite things in the book? among many other favourites of course).

If Coady is the kind of writer I imagine she is, she must have notebooks full of this stuff, of which we the readers get the very best. This, from the abovementioned BC traveller, calling home to her young son:

“Me and Pop bought some chickens, and I named one of them Ted. Do you want to talk to him?”
“No, I don’t want to talk to the Jesus chicken.”
“I’m going to go get him.”
“I will kill you if you go and get the chicken.”
“Talk to Nan.” He was gone.
“He’s running outside to get the chicken now,” Bess’s mother tittered on the end of the line.
“For Christ’s sake, Mother, don’t let him bring that thing inside!”
“Oh, he just loves that bird.”
Bess could hear the screen door slamming shut a second time.
“Here’s Ted,” said Dylan. “I’ll hold him up to the phone.”
“Do you know how much this is costing?” No answer. She was screaming at Ted.

And that’s the other thing about *Play*–it’s very very funny, without being in any way “light.” It’s such a hard balance to walk, especially because a critical perception of “lightness” can sink a book like a lead balloon (abandon metaphor). There is humour in theses characters’ lives because there is humour in everyone’s life. We don’t (usually) laugh at the characters but with them–because we all know that life is funny and cruel and weird. This from the story “In Disguise as the Sky” (gorgeous title, eh?), about an ESL teacher and her coping mechanisms. Here, she has overheard one of her students using a made-up word for “muffin”:

“So I come stampeding out from behind the partition where I’m photocopying lists of prepositions, hollering, ‘Muffin! Muffin! Muffin!” Kunakorn gives me a look as if his suspicion that I just make up all the craziness I drill into him day after day has been vindicated. He points with triumph at the new co-worker.
“He say ‘day-cake.'”
“Why are you standing there talking about day-cake?” I say to the new guy.
THe new guy is shorter than me, and about ten pounds lighter. He is absurdly overdressed to be sitting at the front desk. He looks like a boy who’s been polished up for his first communion and I try not to wince.
But I do wince when I realize I’ve scared him. It is awful to scare a short man in a communion suit.

What’s annoying me about the above is that, out of context, you can’t tell how good it really is. I mean, it just reads like well-written chick-lit zaniness (not that there’s anything wrong with that) but that story actually has such fluid and subtle emotion that it really stings when it ends. The problem with Coady’s writing is that any random bit of it looks easy and delightful, and it’s only when you get to the end that realize how much you’ve experienced in the story.

Maybe you should really just read *Play the Monster Blind* for yourself.

Reverb 27

Our most profound joy is often experienced during ordinary moments. What was one of your most joyful ordinary moments this year? (Author: Brené Brown) (www.reverb10.com)

I seriously don’t know if I have an ordinary. I have a pretty low threshold for stress, and change, and excitement. One of the nicer things anyone has said about me is that he thought I was a really “calm person.” I was so shocked by this I went home and repeated it to my roommate, who said, “You’re not not calm, you just…get a lot out of things.”

That’s a generous interpretation, but fair enough–I can’t think of the last time I had an “ordinary” day because there’s always some special meeting, or hard assignment, or a new food to eat, or I get an unexpected phone call, any of which can throw me into a whirlwind of joy or despair. I exaggerate, but only a little.

So, trying to round down to ordinary…how about yesterday? It was cold out, but my brother and I were stir-crazy from all the indoor holiday time, so we went out the rail-trail the community had built when they finally got rid of the trains that run out that way.

I’ve been in and out of that town all my life, but this was a place I’d never been before–when I was a kid, because it was dangerous (trains!) and when they finally built the trail, I was living away and didn’t really know what was going on. I would never have thought to go see; it was my folks that urged us.

It turned out to be gorgeous–so quiet, with a weird-angled view of farmers’ fields and people’s yards. The snow was very loud and crunchy underfoot, or maybe it just seemed louder because it was the only sound. We only ran into two people (plus their dogs), and that was at the very beginning of the walk. It was so great to be outside, and I was so bundled up (two sweaters!!) that I didn’t even feel cold. It was nice not to be rushing, not to have anywhere to be, and walk as long as we felt like. It was nice to have unlimited time with my brother, which is rare.

It was basically a long walk on a cold day, very ordinary, or maybe not.

December 26th, 2010

Reverb 26

What did you eat this year that you will never forget? What went into your mouth & touched your soul? (Author: Elise Marie Collins)

I ate pretty well this year, and I’m sure there’s a lot of stuff that mattered. My very favourite, I’m pretty sure, was the pasta and chicken Mark made for me one afternoon while I lay in bed reading. There’s something about being able to smell food cooking from another room that’s so sweet. I know I’m not alone in this, because I see it people’s FB statuses all the time, what they smell cooking from beyond the door or down the stairs, and how happy it makes them. Even the best cook in the world (not me) I think would enjoy just wandering out to discover a meal prepared just for him/her.

Christmas and Reverb 25

Hi all! I hope you had an excellent Christmas! I turned off the computer for more than 24 hours, and had a glorious one myself. Highlights included something called “bubble bread,” a catnip toy frenzy with the local kitten, a game of Scrabble at which I lost miserably, a beautiful new jacket from The Fairies’ Pyjamas, and many hugs and friendly people. The only real low point of the day came when I said in passing, while talking about something vaguely related over Christmas dinner that microwaves run on nuclear energy. There was a long silence after that–it turns out, they don’t. Shame ensues.

Ok, back to reverb:

Choose one that best captures you; either who you are, or who you strive to be. Find the shot of you that is worth a thousand words. Share the image, who shot it, where, and what it best reveals about you.

Me in the dressing room mirror in North Bay

This is me in the only dressing room I’ve ever been assigned, at the Capitol Theatre in North Bay, before my reading at Circus Wonderland. It’s me being “Wow, I’m a rock star, I have a dressing room” but also very obviously all alone, since I had to take the picture of myself in the mirror (There were, technically, a couple fellows asleep on the floor behind me, but I can’t really count us as being “together.”)

It’s me being wowed by one of the little flashes of glamour in the writing world as I know it, enjoying myself and yet not particularly enjoying the loneliness, longing for friends (and not just to take the picture). It’s interesting, this picture, and I don’t know exactly what it means, but definitely something, I think.

December 24th, 2010

Reverb 24

What was the best moment that could serve as proof that everything is going to be alright? And how will you incorporate that discovery into the year ahead? (Author: Kate Inglis) (www.reverb10.com)

Oh, I don’t know–“moments” as such don’t really occur to me. How about this: I had a really tough day last week and came home to four holiday cards, my Pen Canada membership, and a metropass in my mailbox. And for that particular evening, certainly, everything was ok. Friends, communication, engagement, freedom of movement–these are the things that I love, and I know I’m lucky to have them.

Presumably, in real life, things are never entirely ok–I am currently worried that the kitten will smash a Christmas bulb and cut her tiny paw–but they can be pretty close. Thanks for the cards, the blog comments, the real life parties, Facebook and Twitter messages, hugs real and electronic. Thanks for being my friends and readers, and I hope everything is pretty nearly ok with you.

Merry Christmas, if you swing that way.

December 23rd, 2010

Reverb 23

Let’s meet again, for the first time. If you could introduce yourself to strangers by another name for just one day, what would it be and why? (Author: Becca Wilcott)

Excellent question in general; for me, though, irrelevant, because I think my given name is just perfect and am exceedingly vain about it. I don’t even like terms of endearment–Rebecca or Becky or even RR is preferable to me to generics like “honey,” “sweetie,” etc.

However, Scott once pointed out that, as I am a rose, my evil alter would necessarily be a thorn. “Nina” is the name I use when I need a pseudonym (don’t get excited; usually has something to do with a videogame), so I do think if I ever turn evil, I would probably use “Nina Thorne.”

It’s good to have a plan for a life of evil, just in case.

December 22nd, 2010

Washington Recap (long-delayed)

Writing about travel and Fred reminds me that I never recapped when went to Washington, DC, to visit said Fred. We had planned to write a joint blog post while we were there, but were too busy frolicking and never did. We attempted to proxy-blog by retelling the experiences of the trip together over Facebook chat. Facebook, annoyingly, does not save chats, and even if you attempt to cut and paste the whole of one, it won’t let you have the earliest parts if your chat was very long (ours was, of course). So here, below, is a very small refraction of our DC adventure, way back in mid-November (well, Fred’s DC adventure continues, because she lives there…you know what I mean).

NB that some cuts have been made for coherency/non-embarrassment. We catch up with FD and RR having brunch at Kramerbooks’ Cafe with some friends, old and new.

***

FD
the danish dude was Bo!
yes all were nice

RR
In my mind, it was spelled “beau”

FD
we chatted easily
oh that also makes sense.

RR
Then we parted, after our historic brunch…

FD
right to eastern market
we didn’t even spend that much time in the market
we walked around the flea market for a bit
then the art dude was rude to you
WHAT A JERK!

RR
The market was interesting, but we bought nothing. I think I was afraid of having anything odd on the plane, because of crazy customs

FD
I have not forgotten!
or forgiven!
how does he sleep at night?
yes so…
on we went
towards capitol hill
and we stopped at that charming used bookstore

RR
For the record, he told me left leg was blocking passersby’s view of his art, and could I move?

FD
appalling!
APPALLING!
Our readers will hear about this!

RR
He had painted an american flag on…what?
I love your outraged loyalty!
I also really liked that bookstore!
Riverby!

FD
it was hideous and pointless whatever it was.
no I’m being too harsh
but you know.

RR
I do know!

FD
Your leg’s presence did not do his artwork any disservice.
okay yes riverby

RR
Thank you! I feel that way too!

FD
I’m better now.
we were basically kicked out (gently) by the security guard.

RR
I bought a book at Riverby’s because I thought it was edited by my long-dead cousin, but it turned out he was Irwin Stone, not Irving (though everyone called him “Irv”)

FD
oh it wasn’t your cousin?
sad…

RR
But since I have it, I’m reading it, and it’s pretty amazing (selected letters of Van Gogh to his brother).
They were nice about it. Then we went to…Supreme court building, yes?

FD
right right..
supreme court.
it was closed
but we ran up and down the stairs and took photos by the columns
and were just generally happy to be there.

RR
I was fascinated by those columns, and the statue of a woman with a tiny woman in her lap!

***

Trust me, even though I was only able to provide a snippet, IT WAS ALL THAT AWESOME! But FBchat sucks for eating our chat.

Reverb 22

How did you travel in 2010? How and/or where would you like to travel next year? (Author: Tara Hunt) (www.reverb10.com)

This is a fun one–so fun that Fred has been drawn into Reverb-land, too–yay! Fred also posted her Cities I’ve Visited in 2010 list already, and I haven’t, so I’ll start there.

Montreal
Saint George
Hamilton/LTH/Dundas/Waterdown (it’s all the same area code)
Kitchener/Waterloo
Guelph
Riviere-du-loup
Moncton
Halifax
Charlottetown (and environs)
Winnipeg
North Bay
Washington, DC

Not as adventerous as last year, but definitely good times, and also I’m finally seeing a bit of my own country, which feels good.

How did I travel? A lot in Mark’s car, which is where I came upon the revelation that I’m not as god a driver as I used to be–there’s a resolution for 2011. Also via plane a couple times, and tonnes and tonnes of public transit within Toronto and in a few other cities. And then there was my epic Northlander bus trip to North Bay.

Where to in 2011? Actually, I have a lot of airy plans–I hope a bunch of these materialize. Among hoped for destinations are Florida, South Carolina, Montreal, Ottawa, Buffalo, Niagara Falls, and London (the big one). The only that’s actually booked is the Falls, but I’m pretty stoked about that one. Let’s hope that the adventure continues after that!

December 21st, 2010

Rose-coloured reviews the Eaton’s Centre

If they found themselves alone without plans in the late afternoon on the Saturday before Christmas, perhaps most people would not have wandered–lonely as a cloud–to the Toronto Eaton’s Centre. I have heard much about the crush and crassness of malls in general and Eaton’s Centre in particular.

The thing about me: I love malls far more than people who actual attempt to buy things in them on a regular basis. Starting with my rural, driver’s-license-less youth, I have rarely had the holy trio of the time, access, and money to shop in malls as often as I would like. Even when I was broke, I was still content to “recreationally shop”–ie., wander around and look at stuff, try things on, maybe eat in the food court. At that point, I called Eaton’s Centre “The Museum of Nice Stuff.”

Currently, what I lack is time–shopping is completely non-recreational, limited mainly to groceries. When I really need something mallish, like a gift or a specific item of clothing, it usual turns into a frantic 30-minute slalom through 3 stores, after which I have to get somewhere else immediately–ie., no fun.

So, since I was without plans last Saturday, wander to the mall is exactly what I did. It was nice because I am pretty much done shopping for gifts and didn’t really need anything at all–pure recreational shop, except some gum and pop supplies to consume as I strolled. I was actually really excited for the bustling crowds, and they did not disappoint on the bustle front, though it really was not as crowded as I expected. I was worried for our economy. But then I heard on the radio this morning that 100 000 people will pass through that mall…ok, I forget if it was in a day of Christmas shopping or a season of it, but whatever, they sounded pleased with the number, so I figure it’s a lot.

I definitely didn’t feel wringer-washed and paranoid, they way I sometimes do in really crazy crowds. It was just a nice semi-crowded mall. In fact, I don’t even know if things would’ve felt as crowded as they did if the Eaton’s Centre hadn’t been *under construction* during the busiest retail season of the year. What’s up with that? They had tried to disguise all the big half-built kiosks and random other plywood boxes by covering them in gift wrap and festive signs identifying what store they were in front of, but it still seemed a bit sloppy and awkward to me.

But who cares? I got a free dark chocolate Ferrero Roche at the Ferrero Roche tree, which was very pretty and odd. And then, and THEN, there was the Swarkovski Crystal tree, which was there last year and which I love very much. It’s so sparkly and so tall and lit from below somehow I’m not sure how. And maybe they do this all the time and I just never knew, but it seem totally magically that as I was walking towards the tree, they turned on the snow. As I walked closer, I kept trying to figure out how they were doing it, but I didn’t really care because it looks so incredible to have a) snow indoors and b) snow coming down over those lights facing up, to create a wild shadow effect. Finally, a lady with a hijab standing beside me (there as a bit of a press up close) put out her hand to grab a “snowflake” and showed it to me–a tiny clump of soap bubbles. We were both charmed.

That was pretty much the highlight. I went into a few stores, but of course didn’t get tempted to try anything on. The jewellery, high-priced cookeware, and Apple products were my favourites (oh, MacBook Air–now I see!) Eventually, I got lonely in the crowd–the cliche is true! And the other cliche, about social mall shopping being the domain of silly teenage girls, wildly untrue. Everyone was shopping in couples and groups–not just teenagers, everyone. The few people I saw on their own were on cell phones (one middle aged, jovial-looking gentleman was listing a series of chores, one of which was, “And you’ll mix the martinis.”)

It was very festive–I don’t know if it was the spirit of giving that inspired all of those people into the mall, but it was nice to see them all together enjoying themselves. And people were enjoying themselves, despite the ugly construction and crass commercialism and the fact that there is a whole kiosk for “skins,” whatever that means. It was a smiley crowd at the mall, and I was happy to see it. But I really should have manufactured an errand or a goal of some kind; I didn’t really fit in as the sole Eaton’s Centre flanneur, and after less than an hour, me and my Fresca were on our way home.