BookLust

Random Readings 1

From time to time I read Beth's death scene in Little Women, and I still turn to the final page of The Grapes of Wrath and shiver with the last line about Roseasharn's mysterious smile. I feel, holding the books, accommodating their weight and breathing their dust, an abiding love. I trust them, in a way that I can't trust my computer, though I couldn't do without it. Books are matter. My books matter. What would I have done through these years without the Leaford Library and all its lovely books?

             – from The Girls by Lori Lansens

Come On-a My House

If you were to come to my house for something to eat, you wouldn't get fancy dishes with unpronouncable names that hail from countries unknown. When it comes to cooking, I am the comfort queen. I haven't mentioned it before but for the most part I love cooking, and have played around in the kitchen since I was about twelve years old. But it's always the comfort dishes that I create – macaroni and cheese, veggie chili, chicken cacciatore, split pea soup, veggie lasagna, to name a few.

But as much as I enjoy cooking, my real passion has always been baking. I find it a very zen experience, especially if I'm feeling blue. Maybe that's why I've been down-in-the-dumps lately; I haven't been baking enough. It's a double-edged sword though, 'cuz I'll feel great about creating a yummy dessert, then crash and burn into the blues after I've eaten too much of my creation. Ah well.

I can bake many things, but the one thing I do best is chocolate chip cookies. I gotta say, I make the best damn chocolate chip cookies on the planet. Read it and weep, baby.

Find Me in Invisible Ink

A big thanks to Zachary Houle, creator of the blog Invisible Ink, for including me in his Five Questions interview! If you're interested in the interview, you can take a gander here. (It's even got a new photo of me which actually doesn't make me wanna cry when I look at it).

Swept Away by The Sea

Good heavens what a gem. Beautiful, lush, exquisite writing. A haunting story that lingers inside you long after you've put the book down.

I'm a bit late in coming to this book, I know, but I much prefer to purchase books as paperbacks, and if I can get them on sale, all the better! (Sorry, Mr. Banville). And I suppose I was a bit hesitant to read The Sea because of all the fanfare – too often I've been let down by an author due in part to the abundance of media hype and accolades that sadly  rarely live up to the actual novel. In fact, lately I've been making a habit of not reading book reviews before I pick up a book, so that my mental palette is somewhat 'clean' when I dive into the story. Does anyone else do this? Anyway, the main reason I chose to read The Sea was because the delightful young lady who works at at Book City in The Bloor West Village raved about it, and her taste in books is exquisite (though we did part ways with Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. Ugh).

I don't want to go into too much detail about the story, and really, for some there may appear to be not much of  a story at all. Max Morden is a middle-aged Irishman who is grieving over the recent death of his wife. He decides to go back to the seaside town where he spent his summer holidays as a child, as a means of coping with the loss of his wife, but also to travel back in time to the one summer when he met the Graces, an intriguing family who had a powerful hold over him as a child, and in fact the events of that one summer with the Graces changes Max forever. But really, this description of the story does it no justice at all.

This is not a novel full of action-packed detail, but rather a deep internal dialogue of one man's struggle to cope with the many disappointments of his life. Personally, I love this kind of novel more than any other, I think. The phrase based on a true story really turns my stomach. Give me fiction in all its beauty and lies, because that's where I can find the truths that I can really hold onto. Does that make any sense? As I read this novel, I could not help but think of my own life, and my own past, and the secrets and sufferings that haunt me. Max's story is I think the sad private struggle that everyone experiences, for doesn't the past beat inside all of us like a second heart?

Thought For The Day

It is next to impossible to get any work done with a coned cat on your lap.

Things Could Always Be Worse

At least I don't have to wear this!

A few weeks ago poor little Maggie got bitten by her crabby brother Hamish. We tried and tried, but could not find the bite mark, so figured it wasn't that bad, until this weekend when my husband noticed a really horrible wound underneath her fur. It had become infected, and she was licking it incessantly. So she had to get that area shaved, and now must wear this pretty outfit until the wound heals properly.

So yes, things could always be worse. Gotta keep perspective!

Not The Right Fit

No, I'm not talking about me fitting in my jeans (though they are a tad snug since the Christmas holidays, but I sure don't wanna talk about that).

First, thanks to those who shared good news with me! It really did help to cheer me up...until I received an email from my agent informing me that yet again, I've been rejected by more publishers. Two more, to be exact, and one of them I was really, really hoping to work with. Sigh. I'm not exactly sure of the number of rejections so far, because I think my agent is trying to protect my delicate ego, but I'm guessing that it's somewhere around seven to date. The one comment I hear most often regarding these rejections is that my project, though wonderful, is not the right fit for them. Not the right fit. Like I'm some chunky square-peg book-chick trying to get into size 4 jeans so I can finally fit in with the cool crowd. Not the right fit. What the hell does that mean?

For the time being my agent is telling me not to give up hope, but right now I just wanna not think about that stupid book ever again. And yet, honestly, I think it's a really good idea. It sucks to have good ideas that can't find a home.

It's official. I am wallowing in my misery. But just for this day, and this post. After this rant I will take that misery and put it in a black box and throw it in a back shelf next to my angst-ridden teenage years. Those two miseries can cry and kvetch and commiserate, and I will move on to something else.

Those Blah Blah Blahs...

This cartoon pretty much sums up how I'm feeling right now. I drew it waaaay back when I was working at  McMaster University in one of their university libraries. The original gag line referred to the 'February Blahs', but I actually think January is much more unbearable than February. At least the second month of the year has Valentine's Day, right? What the hell does January have, other than VISA bills, extra pounds and prep work for taxes?

Anyway, I'm struggling through this month, trying to finish up two major projects and in desperate need of more sunshine. I've got a long list of books I wanna talk about, but for the moment my brain is functioning on a very low-grade level, so for now, book talk will have to wait.

Oh, and speaking of taxes, what an experience I've been going through. That little cartoon book deal I mentioned a while back? Well, I'm plugging away on that project (it's a cute Valentine's Day gift book which will come out February 2008, by the way), and it's all going fairly smoothly except for one little snag. I found out from the accountant who works for my literary agent that because I am a Canadian, and I will be receiving an advance as well as royalties from the US, I need to get me a little thing called an Individual Taxpayer Identification Number. If I don't have one of those suckers, the US will take off 30% of my earnings from this little humour book. Which would leave me enough money to, I don't know...buy a muffin. Nice, huh? And it ain't easy getting one of these suckers, either. It involves filling out forms and getting letters from my agent and going to the US Consulate and getting my passport notorized and hi carumba I don't have the energy for that! So thankfully a writer friend of mine recommended a US tax accountant here in Toronto who will do all the leg work for me. For a hefty fee, of course, but at least it's one less thing for me to worry about. Anyone else out there have to deal with this?

Really, I should stop griping. I'm very lucky. Just in a temporary funk. I'm trying to think about  this September, when two of my illustrated books will come out, and that keeps me going. I can't wait to start blogging about those books, but it's early days yet.

You know what? I need to hear some good news. If you have any happy news to share, bring it on!

Going A Little Crazy...

...battling deadlines and the January blahs. Will try and post tomorrow.

Shelf Portrait Update 2

Here's a couple of photos from Robin Pacific's show. The photographer is Torontoist contributor Nadia Halim, and you can read about her experiences (and see more photos) at the show on her lovely blog.

I have got to make the time to get out there again, but I'm struggling to finish up two book projects...there's irony there for ya. I'm bogged down with books, yet yearn to bog myself down with more books, thanks to a woman who has de-bogged herself of her books.