June 8th, 2009

Blogging the NMAs

Right off the bat, I’ll tell you that my short story “Linh Lai,” originally publishing in The New Quarterly did not win the National Magazine Award for which it was short-listed. But Friday night’s shindig was still an amazing good time, not least because I got to sit with the TNQ crew, and chat with assorted other cool folks. 

Rosalynn Tyo (left) and Katia Grubisic were nominated for their work on TNQ’s Montreal Issue (they didn’t win, either, I’m afraid–boo! it’s a fantastic issue!)

The TNQ table, from left: Chair of the Board Kathy Berrill, editor-in-chief Kim Jernigan, Managing Ed Rosalynn, me giggling with Katia.

My and my glamourous friend Corinna vanGerwen, nominated for editorial work in Style at Home.

Other highlights include the food: chocolate fountain, smoked salmon wraps, spicy popcorn (not in that order, but in that order in my heart!) The crazy cool opening video collage of magazines–I wonder if that will eventually be available somewhere… Also, The Carlu where it was held was really glam (watch that link, though; borderline porny music plays when you open it!)

Although I can’t say I was 100% thrilled not to win, the fiction winner Andrew Tibbetts brought the percentage up into the 90s with his acceptance speech, which ended with “and thank you to transsexual sex workers, just because.” He rightly received an additional award, for best acceptance speech. Way to represent, Mr. Tibbetts!

Find the river
RR

June 5th, 2009

Everybody’s got to be wrong sometimes

People gave me a number of good examples of bad vocabulary before my trip, and I’m just now getting ’round to sharing it. This will be the last grumpy word-use post for a while, though–I swear.

Penultimate comes before ultimate. (from Andrew)

I think people assume that if there’s any extra syllable on a known word, it is an emphatic, so penultimate must be *even more ultimate*. But in this case, it’s not; penultimate means the step *before* ultimate. The ultimate event is the fireworks; the penultimate event is running back to your blanket after lighting them.

Believe it or not, I’m enamoured of (not by) you. (from The Storialist)

This one is a bit formal and perhaps less-known, which is probably why I like using it so much. The most common (and euphonic, to my mind) thing to say one is that one is enamoured *of* something or someone, but most dictonairies will allow “enamoured with” also, and the Collins Gage even admits “by.” I’m not having that one, but I guess I won’t criticize anyone who does.

Furthermore, one can be enamoured whether or not affection is returned, and whether or not the object of affection is capable of return. I can be enamoured of my boyfriend, Nick Adams, and little glittery throw pillows without conflict…at least, not grammatical conflict.

Intensive purposes is probably not what anybody means. (from Rachel)

Apparently people write this after mishearing the cliche “for all intents and purposes,” which in most contexts means “by default” or “without formal recognition”, ie., “She is for all intents and purposes the manager, but she doesn’t have the doorplate or the salary.” Thus, she has the intentions and goals (purposes) of a manager, although she isn’t called that.

“Intensive purposes” makes less sense if used in the same context, but I guess not *no* sense–you could say that for only the most important (intense) purposes she acts as manager. But that wouldn’t sound all that bright, in my opinion.

You can’t get less regard than regardless. (from Mark)

This mistake might be a cousin of the “penultimate” one, people using an extra syllable as an emphatic. I guess this one is slightly better because the misspeakers are not corrupting the meaning of a real word. Irregardless is a nonsense word, or at best (worst!) a neologism created by sloppiness in the early 1900s that also means “without regard to,” same as “regardless.” Use regardless, really–why not?

Hopefully is to perform in a hopeful manner. (from my Father)

Oh man, I hate this one, because I do it (thanks, Dad!) I know it’s wrong, I hear myself saying it and wince, but it’s a really hard construction to correct midsentence. But I do know what makes sense, and it does not make sense to say, “The airline won’t lose our luggage, hopefully.” Hopefully is an adverb, and adverbs modify verbs–therefore, the literal meaning of this sentences is, “The airline will not lose our luggage, and will do so in a hopeful manner.” Which is probably not what anyone means.

I don’t know why it’s easier to say, “hopefully” than “I hope that” or “I am hopeful that” but it does seem to be, at leat for people of my own genearation and younger. I guess it’s a slang thing, but an unfortunate one, because it really can lead to confusion. “We’ll go to the awards ceremony, hopefully,” when heard allowed (ie., you can’t hear commas) could be understood, grammatically correctly, as: your plan is to defintely attend the ceremony in a mood of hopefullness. Or it could be understood, slangwise, as: you *might* attend the ceremony, mood irrelevant. Very difficult for someone meeting you there to parse what you mean, and what their action plan should be.

I am going to try to take my own advice, obviously, and do this less or, hopefully, never.

I pack my case / I check my face
RR

Revenge Lit

The Revenge Lit contest in support of Terry Griggs’s new novel, *Thought You Were Dead* rages on. It’s not too late to get your entry in (June 12!) Mine is on the site now, although in lieu of a title I put the name of the contest, because I am an idiot. So scroll down until you hit an entry called “Revenge Lit”…then roll your eyes and, if you feel like it, read on.

He robbed the Glendale train
RR

June 4th, 2009

Danuta Gleed Citations

These came in the mail today, and as I haven’t seen them anywhere on the web, I thought I’d share. Obviously I’m pleased for *Once*, but also for *The Withdrawal Method* and *Evidence* too–sincere congratulations to Messieurs Malla and Colford, and much gratitude to Merilyn Simonds, J. J. Steinfeld, Rudy Wiebe, and The Writers’ Union of Canada for the following:

*The Withdrawal Method* (Anansi): “Wonderfully imaginative stories that carry the reader from contemporary childhood bewilderment to loving and dying young adults to nineteenth century chicanery or a future world where Niagara Falls has dried up and life exists between detritus and rage. A profound, compassionate voice that creates a world where ‘the streets will be black and wet with melted snow and spangled golden with street lights, and riding back home along them [on your bicycle, you] will tonight feel a little bit like falling.'”

*Evidence* by Ian Colford: “A disturbing, moving, and most of all, insightful look at the life of a wandering outsider attempting to find his place in a world that is often emotionally physically dangerous. The stories in *Evidence* demonstrate a firm control of narrative and language: they are the work of a skilful, talented storyteller unafraid to confront the darkness, confusion, and yearning for sense that is at the heart of our fragmented modern societies.”

*Once* by Rebecca Rosenblum: “A pungent, witty exploration of the lives of working class twentysomethings, *Once* is both highly imaginative and closely observed. The writing in *Once* is assured; the voice, compelling. While these stories grapple with gritty contemporary urban realities, they are enlivened by an almost whimsical hope.”

It’s not confidential / I’ve got potential
RR

Be nice to cashiers!!

Well, it’s another happening night at the Rose-coloured ranch. I’ve been down on the floor sorting manuscript pages for the last while, and after getting dismayed by the slipshod sweeping job I do, I decided what I needed was write a blog post about the latest upsetting trend at the grocery store.

On Monday, a new Toronto law kicked in, requiring stores to charge 5 cents for each single-use bag they distribute. Not, perhaps, the most thrilling news ever to have hit the streets, but I assumed that if even I knew about it, everyone did (being as I spend my evenings on my living room floor, covered in paper and dust, not watching or reading the news).

But apparently, the people of Toronto don’t *all* know, and when the cashier at their local grocery/drug/clothing/porn shop informs them of the charge, some don’t take it too well. I have witnessed a couple meltdowns in the three short days the law has been in effect; apparently, the most logical interpretation in some people’s minds is that cashiers are lying about the nickel charge in order to…steal? Piss customers off? Make their own already hard jobs that much harder? I really don’t know what is going on in these furious consumers’ minds.

I haven’t worked in customer service for nearly two years, but I still remember viscerally the bottom-of-the-belly fear I felt when I realized that the person I was serving was angry with me. As far as I am concerned, unless your customer service personnel has been sexist/racist/homophobic, anger is never an acceptable emotion in that context. Frustration, irritation, desire to speak with a manager; fine. I did, at various points, suck at various jobs, and I can see why many many people were a little snarky with me. But anger is a somewhat crazy thing to bring to the checkout line, and to see people lashing out at squirming teenagers and exhausted ladies in smocks makes me so sad.

So…have you seen the 5-cent meltdown yet? What did you do? I can’t imagine it would help for me to raise my paw and say, “It is a real law, you know.” Or, like, “That woman make $10 an hour, flat, not commission off her bag sales, therefore she has no reason to lie to you.” Or…what? In my days in service, I was always comforted by raised eyebrows and smiles from other customers following a confrontation, so that’s all I’ve offered so far. But if this nickel thing is going to be a major tipping point in stores citywide, perhaps I should formulate a better response.

Thoughts…?

Do you know your enemy?
RR

June 3rd, 2009

Blogs on Book Launches

In case you weren’t free to attend Toronto book launches the past couple nights but wish you were, read August Bourre’s account of Terry Griggs’s Thought You Were Dead launch, or mine of Cynthia Flood’s The English Stories launch. It’s not *exactly* like being there, but semi-close!!

They can land that plane on my heart / I don’t care
RR

June 2nd, 2009

Just give me the music

One of the most terrifying things I’ve heard recently was, “Isn’t the music today awful? There were so many good albums when we were in high school and university, and now it’s all crap.” This was from someone my own age!!

Now I’m sure the music scene has boom and bust years, but there’s always someone doing something interesting. Moreover, there’s always “crap”–you tell me how Tiffany‘s better than Britney. And there will always be a place for powdered-sugar pop–for me, that place is at the gym or when I’m mopping the floor.

I am not too worried about getting older–if my motto is “Smarter every day” (and it is, mainly) then any more days I accumulate must be to the good. I do worry a little about *acting* old–nostalgic, reactionary, inflexible, all those good stereotypes. This “It’ll never be as good as it was” thinking will give you arthritis, absolutely.

Thus, one more reason to stay open-minded, or at least to keep listening to the radio. My trip to Japan gave me lots of exposure to fun music, although little of it actually Japanese. I did hear The Cigarettes playing in the street in front of Kyoto station, but they didn’t have an album for sale, so I won’t be hearing them again (sidebar: I wanted to go toss some change in their guitar case, but Ben restrained me; apparently that is *so* gauche in Japan. But…they busk for fun??) They did give me an English flier with a website on it, which I foolishly believed would allow me to find recordings of their music. But the English site is so incoherent and linkless as to be useless. Cigarettes, where are you?

Ok, for recommendations one can actually find, I scrolled happily through the Air Canada inflight entertainment options, and found some pretty good stuff (although I was semi-insane after so many hours in an airplane, so take that with qualifiers). One such good was Eva Avila. She’s definitely in the Tiffany/Britney sphere, but quite catchy and untrashy, in my opinion. I expect the song that gave this post its name has been all over treadmills and high-school dances this year–it’s a chaste song about dancing, but not *that* chaste (“just let me do it just let me do it”). Oh, and she’s cute and *Canadian*. Nice.

A little higher up the pop-music hierarchy, we have Taylor Swift. I ended up picking Dire Straits’ Romeo and Juliet to mention in my Pages interview response about bookish love songs over Swift’s Love Story. But it’s still a warm and charming mainstream country love song, and she’s written lots of’em on, as I discovered on the plane. It does seem that this is a popular artist who has some real talent, both vocally and songwritingwise. I feel confident saying that about a popstar people mock me for liking (you know who you are) because Sasha Frere Jones agress with me.

On a non-top-forty note (note, ha!), my brother and I did an iPod exchange on the Shinkansen and I thus discovered the cheerful histrionics of The Films. I was trying to think what they remind me of, and it’s probably lots of things, but maybe a shot of The White Stripes and a mixer of Franz Ferdinand. Or something like that…

Also on Ben’s iPod was my best musical find of the trip, Bright Eyes. I’m actually not sure that this qualifies as the newest music, as the band’s website hasn’t been updated since 2007, the same year their last album was released. Nevermind, it’s still cutting edge weird, two years on.

Of course, I am a writer (thought that’s not been so obvious on this blog of late) and when I say a band is brilliant I often mean they have brilliant lyrics. I actually think Bright Eyes is up to it musically, but it is the lyrics that make me stand still and close my eyes to listen. Here, for you, “When the Curious Girl Realizes She Is under Glass”:

Tomorrow when I wake up I’m finding my brother
And making him take me back down to the water
That lake where we sailed and laughed with our father
I will not desert him. I will not desert him

No matter how I may wish for a coffin so clean
Or these trees to undress all their leaves onto me
I put my face in the dirt and then finally I see
The sky that has been avoiding me

I started this letter, I’m going to send it to Ruba
It will be blessed by her eyes on the gulf coast of Florida
With her feet in the sand and one hand on her swimsuit
She will recite the prayer of my pen

Saying, “Time take us forward, relief from this longing
They can land that plane on my heart, I don’t care
Just give me November, the warmth of a whisper
In the freezing darkness of my room”

But no matter what I would do in an attempt to replace
All the pills that I take trying to balance my brain
I have seen the curious girl with that look on her face
So surprised she stares out from her display case
~~~~

You see what I mean?

Of course, new music can be exhausting–you have to pay so close attention! I must say I was shockingly glad to find Closer, Sarah McLachlan’s Greatest Hits on the airplane audio menu–the soaring “Vox” was like a magic portal back to 1999 and I listened to the whole album a great number of times (the good/bad thing about 12-hour flights is there’s time to do *everything* a great number of times). Also on the airplane was a new album by Oasis, which seemed reasonably good. However, after a few minutes I had to turn it off because it was just to different from What’s the story, morning glory?. Then I hummed a little of “She’s Electric”, which cheered me, but I also felt my knee joints creak a little.

She’s got a cousin / actually she’s got bout a dozen / she’s got a bun in the oven / but that’s nothing to do with me
RR

June 1st, 2009

The week that will be

This is week is one with way too much fun in it, such that of the events below, I’m only actually able to attend a couple. But my hope burns that if I can’t go, prehaps someone I know can, and will, and will report back. Hence the listings; go ye forth!

Monday (ie., tonight)

Terry Griggs and Vicki Delany read at McNally Robinson’s Mystery Monday at the Don Mills Centre.

Andrew Daley, Packanimal, Matt Shaw, Julia Tausch, Richard Todd and Truth Is read at Strong Words fourth anniversary celebration, at the Gladstone.

Tuesday

Cynthia Flood’s book launch at Ben McNally Books for The English Stories.

Wednesday

Marianne Apostolides, Su Croll, rob mclennan and Steven Mayoff read at Pivot at the Press Club.

Friday through Sunday

Readings, music, discussions and snacks at The Hamilton Jewish Literary Festival.

Whatever you attend, have fun!!

She had eyes bright enough to burn me / they reminded me of you
RR

April 12th, 2009

Sunshine city

The good news is that it’s sunny in Toronto, my voice no longer sounds like Janis Joplin’s, and that there’s a nice review of Coming Attractions in Rover Arts this weekend. The other good news is that I got lots of work done with weekend (not enough, but it’s never enought), have many lovely friends to eat food with, and will soon be going to a theme park in Japan where you can dress up like a ninja. The other other good news is that, after several months of denial about my phone being broken, I now have a new phone that *actually isn’t broken*. All calls received thus far have been delightful! There is no bad news.

I’m afraid that I’m not sure
RR

April 9th, 2009

Standard Plot Graph

After some Sturm et Drang with my attempt to do a typographic one, I broke out the old Paint program (remember grade 6, when that was the *bomb*??) And now, presenting

The Inverted Checkmark/Standard Male Orgasm*

The first jag on the top line is the crisis, which more elementary plot graphs (and stories) omit, as on the bottom line (which looks far more like an actual inverted checkmark). So, for the curious, now you know!

*thanks for the terminology, Andrew!

I fought the war but the war one
RR