BookLust

Fightin' Words

Some of you who know me probably know that I'm a sucker for small quirky gift books, especially if they cover the subjects of writing, reading, or something book-related. So it's no surprise is it, that I would snatch up a copy of the insightful, witty and sometimes downright nasty Fighting Words: Writers Lambast Other Writers – from Aristotle to Anne Rice. James Charlton is the editor of this marvelous little collection, and the clever illustrations are by the artist Tullio Pericoli.

So why would I enjoy this book? Because it's writers saying nasty things about other writers, silly! Not only do you experience the joy of reading a good insult, you get the added delight of a good insult that is very well written. Hell, I will honestly admit that when I read about the lives of writers, I don't just want to learn about how they develop their craft – I wanna know all about the delicious nasty petty little details of their lives. I want to know if they kicked their dog, drank themselves into next week and beat their children mercilessly. I probably won't like their writing any less if I find out they're a drunken, selfish bastard (read this blog post for more on that interesting subject), as long as they write well. So yes, I certainly enjoy a bit of petty writer name-calling. Don't you?

All this rambling on my part is my way of saying a new category has been created, called Fightin' Words. May the nastiness begin!

The effect upon women is such that they want to go right out and get him and bring him home stuffed.

– Dorothy Parker on Ernest Hemingway

Silly Poetry Friday 28

Yes, yes, I know, I know...it ain't Friday. And it's been way too long since I posted a Silly Poetry Friday poem. Well that's what makes it all the more sillier, no? No? Oh well.

I'm going to go out on a limb here, and say that I believe Spring is officially here to stay! Woo-hoo! So to celebrate this long-awaited season, how 'bout a somewhat silly Spring-like poem? It's written by some dead poet/playwright dude named Bill.

Where The Bee Sucks

Where the bee sucks, there suck I.
In a cowslip's bell I lie;
There I couch when owls do cry.
On the bat's back I do fly
After summer merrily.
Merrily, merrily, shall I live now
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

– William Shakespeare

Why Mommy Looks So Freaky

I just had to mention this gem. Apparently Michael Salzhauer, a plastic surgeon in Bal Harbour, Florida has written a self-published book for kids all about plastic surgery, so that when mommy comes home all bruised and covered in bandages, the kiddies will understand that it's simply because mommy needed to fork over a wad of cash in order to look hot. The title of the book? My Beautiful Mommy, of course. You can see more pages from the book on the Newsweek gallery site. If you've got the time, it's fascinating reading some of the reader's comments – some people actually think a book like this is a good idea. Worth reading the comments from BoingBoing as well, where I first found the story. Also another interesting perspective from a blogger who feels that Newsweek (where the story originated) was basically just "yanking our chains", making a mountain out of a small self-published molehill.

Whaddya think?

BiblioQuotes 6

"A writer is a person for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people."

– Thomas Mann

What Do the Simple Folk Do?

What do the simple folk do
To help them escape when they're blue?

You know what I do? I pull out my DVD collection of James Herriot's All Creatures Great And Small. When I'm glum there's nothing quite like British comfort television to cheer me up. The first season is the best, of course, when Herriot is a new vet assistant, working for the brash and opinionated Siegfried Farnon, and witnessing the misadventures of  Siegfried's layabout brother, Tristan. I love all the crusty characters, and the scenery of the Yorkshire Dales is heavenly. And of course, I never tire of the charming romance between James and Helen. I could watch it over and over again. And I have. If you've never seen the show, and you think you might like rugged Yorkshire countryside, dirty farm animals and all things warm and cosy, then I highly recommend it. Oh, and do read all the books by James Herriot, too. Sure to uplift any grumpy or glum mood, I promise.

So what do you do when you're blue?

Murphy's Law #57

The day you have to go out with your biggest portfolio case will be the day that it is very, very windy.

CANSCAIP presentation went well. I survived! Thanks for all the kind words of encouragement, by the way. I always seem to freak out for days (sometimes weeks) before an event when I have to talk in front of people, and it always turns out ok. In my defense, I will say, hell, if Barbra Streisand can get stage fright, then so can I, dahling.

Draw Like an Egyptian (and Bitch Like One, Too)

Ok, enough with my misery. Time to show some new work! Here's a cover I did recently for the Mar/April issue of KNOW: The Science Magazine For Kids. Lots of fun to draw. Looking at it now, though, I'm reminded of the very recent unveiling of our newly designed Museum Station here in Toronto.

What do other Torontonians think of the Museum Station? Yes, it's interesting, but (and I can't believe that I, an artist, is saying this) something is really bugging me about this whole thing. I know that a certain amount of private funds went towards this project, but it's my understanding that $1 million came from the TTC and $2 million came from the province. So um...what with all the problems and complaints we have with the quality of service the TTC provides, it's never-ending money woes, the still very real possibility of a strike, and Miller's constant crying to the province to help them out, what the hell are we doing spending this precious money on window dressing? How the hell is this going to improve the TTC in the long run? Am I the only one a bit confused (and pissed) about this? Am I missing something here? Please tell me.

Top of the World

For the past few days I have been feeling particularly blue, and I'm not exactly sure why. Perhaps it's because work has slowed down. Perhaps it's because I'm facing a big challenge with the latest picture book I'm illustrating. Or perhaps it's that let-down feeling one gets after lots of celebration and socializing (my birthday and our wedding anniversary). Whatever the reason, my heart is heavy, and I can't get out of this funk. This isn't good because I've got to give a presentation of my work tonight at the monthly CANSCAIP meeting. So I'm nervous and blue. And what do I do to quell this feeling of bleh? I decide to read my horoscope, something I very rarely ever do. And here's what I read:

Clearly I am doing something wrong.

Don't 6

Random Readings 15

If I remembered that morning of Clarissa's birthday so well – cards and torn envelopes scattered across the bed, intrusive sunlight burning through the curtained gap – it's because one of our little playful episodes brought me for the first time in my life to a full and complete experience in two places at once. Aroused by Clarissa, fully sentient and appreciative, and yet gripped by the tragedy behind the newspaper titbit, the two teams scattering midplay in the violent winds to die in their boots on the edge of the invisible pitch. All copulating creatures are vulnerable to attack, but selection over time must have proved that reproductive success was best served by undivided attention. Better to allow the occasional couple to be eaten mid-rapture than dilute by one jot a vigorous procreational urge. But for seconds on end I had wholesomely and simultaneously indulged two of life's central, antithetical pleasures, reading and fucking.

– from Enduring Love by Ian McEwan