I am, I think, a rather typical middle-class urban dweller. I live not far from the buzzing downtown core, in the leafy, historic Annex, perched like a sparrow on top of the coursing powerline of the Bloor-Danforth subway. I cross the city each day on the TTC. I take advantage of the eclectic smorgasbord of food the city has to offer. I go to the museums and the literary events and the street festivals, take advantage (if not for granted) the wonderful variety of shops. But I think what makes me urban is not so much those things, but a mentality. A sort of frenetic activity, physically and mentally. Perhaps it’s the number of options, perhaps it’s the lights and noise of a city that never sleeps, but I think more likely it’s just my own overachieving nature mixed up with the realities of being a driven twenty-something building a career and taking on more than is advisable. And while I love my life, find it full and engaging and challenging, there is a part of me that worries that in taking on so much I’m missing out. That in engaging with everything I’m actually processing nothing. That in the [...]
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So I’ve been an absentee blogger these last few months, mostly because of Rosewood Confidential, the guide to Pretty Little Liars I’ve been fortunate to write with the v. talented Crissy Calhoun. And I think after 3+ years of blogging I was a little burned out. But I’m not ready to say farewell yet: future posts may be more sporadic, but I hope to still dedicate some time and brainpower to this site, which has, like my garden, given me far more than I remember planting. The end of one year and the beginning of a new one is a natural time for this kind of reflection, and I didn’t want to miss out on sharing some of my end of year highlights. So let’s start there. Here are the books I couldn’t stop talking about, and foisted on as many people as possible (in fact, this post constitutes the ongoing foistage): Natural Order by Brian Francis: I loved Brian’s first book, Fruit, which was fresh and funny, and created a memorable teen protagonist in Peter Paddington, but Natural Order is just what you’d hope a second novel would be: it’s more mature, more ambitious, and an absolute pleasure to read. [...] Sometimes you pick up a book, and it’s like a song on the radio that you don’t realize you needed until you’re singing along. At the end of this dreary February, that was certainly the case with Jessica Grant’s excellent debut collection Making Light of Tragedy (Porcupine’s Quill, 2004). I’m already a fan of Grant, having loved her Come, Thou Tortoise last year, and this volume only enhanced my admiration. What makes all of Grant’s writing stand out (and, I dare say, almost immediately identifiable) is her imaginative, playful, slightly off-kilter perspective. Take her wonderful description of the days of the week: “Days are places we inhabit. Tuesday, for instance, is a tower. Friday, a schoolhouse. Saturday, a runway. Sunday, an empty park. The light is different in each. We are different in each.” She also doesn’t shy away from occasional flights of fancy (like a woman who believes time travel is possible if you follow 4 steps ending with “Crying on Television” or a ski-jumper who takes off never to land). Making Light of Tragedy offers up a collection of irresistibly endearing characters bordering on neurotic, from irascible (not to mention irresponsible) book reviewers to know-it-all roofers. [...]  |
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