At the risk of getting too sentimental on you, I’ve decided to share a song my musician boyfriend wrote about my garden. Have a listen, not just because it makes me a bit teary, but because I think he captures the gardener’s frame of mind, connection with the land, and the passage of the seasons so beautifully. So here it is, “Albany Botanical,” written and performed by Jordan Venn:

Author insert a music with WS Audio Player.(Download) this music.

Want more Jordan Venn? You can get a taste of his rock ‘n’ roll on his website and at fine music venues around Toronto as Jordan Venn and the Slizneys.

But what of other garden tunes? In my interview with garden guru Gayla Trail, she pointed me to her list of gardening songs, which you should definitely check out. I’ve made my own preliminary list on Grooveshark, which you can listen to below! Probably you saw the abundance of Sarah Harmer coming, but what can [...]]]> Though the garden season is just beginning, it’s time to bring Garden, Farming and Food month at KIRBC to a close, and what better way to do it with a little music?

At the risk of getting too sentimental on you, I’ve decided to share a song my musician boyfriend wrote about my garden. Have a listen, not just because it makes me a bit teary, but because I think he captures the gardener’s frame of mind, connection with the land, and the passage of the seasons so beautifully. So here it is, “Albany Botanical,” written and performed by Jordan Venn:

Author insert a music with WS Audio Player.
(Download) this music.

Want more Jordan Venn? You can get a taste of his rock ‘n’ roll on his website and at fine music venues around Toronto as Jordan Venn and the Slizneys.

But what of other garden tunes? In my interview with garden guru Gayla Trail, she pointed me to her list of gardening songs, which you should definitely check out. I’ve made my own preliminary list on Grooveshark, which you can listen to below! Probably you saw the abundance of Sarah Harmer coming, but what can I say, the lady gets it. The list opens with her “Escarpment Blues” because I can’t tell you how many times my garden has brought me back to these lines:  “We’re two-thirds water, / What do we really need / But sun, showers, soil and seed?” The rest of the list alternates between upbeat and mellow, with a common thread of sunshine and outdoor living.

And if you’ve listened through to the end of the playlist, you’ll get through to “Trouble in the Fields,” Sarah Harmer’s gorgeous Nanci Griffith cover. I got to hear it live at Foodstock last October, when Sarah played it to a crowd of farmers and foodies, huddled in the rain, at this incredible event organized to stop the Mega Quarry that threatens their livelihoods and the food we eat. And even though it was cold and wet and we were there under unhappy circumstances, the crowd livened up at these lines, cheering their support, showing their spirit:

“You be the mule, I’ll be the plow,
Come harvest time we’ll work it out,
There’s still a lot of love here in these troubled fields.”

And those still all-too-relevant words are really the lasting message of GFF month, and of most of the reading that I do. It’s not easy to do what’s right by the earth, by plants and animals and each other, even to sprout a damn hot pepper seed, but there’s a lot of love to keep us going.

I’m winding down Garden, Farming and Food month with my second-last post, this one the sequel to my earlier round-up of the titles you’ll find on the GFF section of my bookshelf. If these descriptions whet your appetite, all title links will lead you back to a more in-depth review and clicking on the title images will bring you back to the publisher’s catalogue page.

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, by Barbara Kingsolver

I opened the month with this essential local food memoir by critically acclaimed novelist Kingsolver (with contributions from her husband and daughter). While most people don’t have the freedom or resources of Kingsolver, the life she chooses to live is still something to aspire to, if only in part, and her research and well-reasoned opinions provide much food for thought. I’d still promote Trauma Farm as my locovore/farming gateway drug of choice, but Animal, Vegetable, Miracle also provides a valuable starting point.

Good Food For All: Seasonal Recipes from a Community Garden

This is undoubtedly my favourite cookbook. It is published by (and supports) The Stop, a Toronto community food center that advocates for healthy food as a basic human right. Its two locations support an incredible program that focuses on [...]]]>

I’m winding down Garden, Farming and Food month with my second-last post, this one the sequel to my earlier round-up of the titles you’ll find on the GFF section of my bookshelf. If these descriptions whet your appetite, all title links will lead you back to a more in-depth review and clicking on the title images will bring you back to the publisher’s catalogue page.

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, by Barbara Kingsolver

I opened the month with this essential local food memoir by critically acclaimed novelist Kingsolver (with contributions from her husband and daughter). While most people don’t have the freedom or resources of Kingsolver, the life she chooses to live is still something to aspire to, if only in part, and her research and well-reasoned opinions provide much food for thought. I’d still promote Trauma Farm as my locovore/farming gateway drug of choice, but Animal, Vegetable, Miracle also provides a valuable starting point.

Good Food For All: Seasonal Recipes from a Community Garden

This is undoubtedly my favourite cookbook. It is published by (and supports) The Stop, a Toronto community food center that advocates for healthy food as a basic human right. Its two locations support an incredible program that focuses on feeding people and teaching them to feed themselves in a sustainable way. The book, like the food center, is governed by a food philosophy that mirrors my own: use good ingredients, in season, preferably local. It’s also user friendly, with mostly familiar ingredients and easy to follow steps. I’ve had great success with the pasta salad, spice-rubbed chicken, curried chicken salad, potato salad, flank steak, grain salad, pizza dough, and cookies, with only one relative failure (my lentil soup was very runny). I don’t own any other cookbooks where I’ve made so many of the recipes (and have plans for many more!). There are so many sticky flags in it that they’re actually quite ridiculous. The Stop also runs wonderful free gardening classes, and I’ve had the pleasure of going to a couple: they give you great info, hands-on learning opportunities, and great food! Plus being at a place where everyone from children to seniors can become more invested in the food they eat makes me feel all gooey inside.

Urban Roots (documentary)

I cried (with happiness mostly) a little while watching this documentary Mark MacInnis. Urban Roots investigates the growing urban farming movement in Detroit, where vast urban deserts and abandoned houses make great spaces for squatting gardens and chickens. While the lack of access to good food is tragic, the film is ultimately hopeful, and more and more people are united, empowered and fed by food grown by their own hands in unlikely places. There have been a couple public viewings in Toronto, and you can buy the DVD from their website.

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Ecoholic (plus Ecoholic Body and Ecoholic Home), by Adria Vasil: I’ve written about these books a couple times now, but in short, these three books based on Vasil’s NOW magazine column are like having an eco detective on your side. Full of lively prose and thorough research, they are an eye-opening education in the insidious day-to-day things that are harming us and the planet and a helpful consumer guide that gives you plenty alternatives.

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I see my love more clearly from a distance, by Nora Gould

Gould, an Albertan rancher and vet, gives us farming through the poetic lens in straightforward language. She reveals a portrait of a woman who endures despite the challenges of modern farm living, despite love (from a land, or from a husband) that can seem unreciprocated. While Gould often zooms in on the details of farm life (the reproductive organs of a cow, or aborting a cow’s fetus), she is not lost in them, and they make the collection’s  juxtaposed moments of transcendence (of the personified Prairie rising up and shaking her hair) are all the more real and precious.

Barnheart by Jenna Woginrich: I love the subtitle of this memoir: “An incurable longing for a farm of one’s own.” And it’s appropriate, too, because despite being a renter and having to work a desk job, Woginrich wants to be a farmer with all of her twenty-something might. It’s lighter farm fare, but by the end of this slim volume you’ll be rooting for her too. By the end you may end up with a little barnheart of your own, which can partially be sated by visiting her blog, Cold Antler Farm.

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Greenhorns: The Next Generation of American Farmers, Ed. Zoe Ida Bradbury, Severine von Tscharner Fleming and Paula Manalo

An anthology by farmers in their first years of tilling fields, Greenhorns gives you authentic first hand insight into the modern farming experience. While many of the essays aren’t particularly writerly (a common problem with anthologies by people who aren’t first and foremost writers), sharing the stumbles and successes of these greenhorns is valuable, and no doubt those in the field (pun intended), will appreciate the sense of community that comes from these pages. As a bonus, it’s a very pretty book, with special bonus points for flip book illustration of the bean seed you can watch grow as the book progresses.

The Backyard Homestead, ed. Carleen Madigan

A wide-ranging guide that still manages to be reasonably comprehensive. Well-designed and bursting with information, this guide contains enough essential info to get you started, even if you’d need more info before becoming the quarter-acre-uber-homesteader outlined on the back cover. A great introduction to gardening, raising animals (poultry, pigs, cows, sheep, and goats), processing and preserving meat, making cheese and other dairy products, growing and processing grain, wild foraging, wine and beer making, and growing fruit and nuts.

The 100-Mile Diet, by Alisa Smith and J.B. MacKinnon

MacKinnon and Smith are the hardcore standard for locavores, and their extreme experiment in local eating is referenced in many of the other books I’ve mentioned. Narrated by both halves of the B.C. couple, the memoir is refreshingly honest about the sacrifices and challenges of true local eating, including the toll it takes on their own relationship. It’s less rosy and bucolic than other texts like it, and thus their realizations about the advantages of local food, of what is truly essential, are all the more worthwhile.

It’s almost overwhelming, actually. While books like The City Homesteader allowed me to cruise through and get a general idea for things, this book goes even deeper, covering more categories and breaking things down in more detail. Sometimes that’s still not enough: I wouldn’t want to start canning or keep bees relying on this book alone (in fact, the author takes care to tell you you shouldn’t), but you get a pretty realistic picture of what might be involved.

Since I don’t know a lot about wine making or animal husbandry, I always use the gardening sections as the yardstick for the book. In this case, you get enough detail to grow your veg relying on this book [...]]]> The back cover of The Backyard Homestead claims you can harvest 1,400 eggs, 50 pounds of wheat, 60 pounds of fruit, 2,000 pounds of vegetables, 280 pounds of pork, and 75 pounds of pork for a quarter of an acre of land. Whether this is an and/or situation is unclear (an “and” situation seems impossible), but the philosophy of getting the maximum yield from a small space is the guiding principle of the book itself, which is practically bursting at the seams with information.

It’s almost overwhelming, actually. While books like The City Homesteader allowed me to cruise through and get a general idea for things, this book goes even deeper, covering more categories and breaking things down in more detail. Sometimes that’s still not enough: I wouldn’t want to start canning or keep bees relying on this book alone (in fact, the author takes care to tell you you shouldn’t), but you get a pretty realistic picture of what might be involved.

Since I don’t know a lot about wine making or animal husbandry, I always use the gardening sections as the yardstick for the book. In this case, you get enough detail to grow your veg relying on this book alone for basic planting and sowing, though there isn’t much in the way of troubleshooting or pest or disease control in case things go wrong. I really loved the section on herbs, which has two very useful chart on tea herbs (annual/perennial, growth conditions, usable parts, etc.) and another on cooking with herbs (Sweet/savory/tea, parts to harvest, classic uses). I’d like to put the second one right up in my kitchen. The section on drying and preserving I also found particularly useful — who knew I could use my microwave to dry my herbs? — giving me just enough detail that I could confidently dive right in.

The book also explores raising animals (poultry, pigs, cows, sheep, and goats), processing and preserving meat, making cheese and other dairy products, growing and processing grain, wild foraging, wine and beer making, and growing fruit and nuts. The abundance of information means it can be a bit much to just sit down and read (especially toward the end, when less time is devoted to each topic), but taken in chunks, there’s much to learn here, and I’ve already applied what I’ve learned to my first foray in strawberries this year. The lovely two-colour design presents the content in a way that’s digestible, using plenty of line drawings, tables, and sidebars. (You can have a look at a huge chunk of the book courtesy of the Amazon.com Look Inside feature.)

While the prospect of raising your own pigs (and turning them into sausage yourself) can be daunting, this book is anything but. It’s friendly and accessible, offering a great starting point for whatever new homesteading task you’re ready to take on, and after you’ve spent some time in these pages, you’ll likely have a lengthy to do list that would make your grandparents proud.

 JK: I learned to garden from you, but where did you pick up your initial gardening know-how?

GT: Oh wow. You’ve already made me a bit teary. I grew my first successful in-ground food garden while I lived in a student house in the summer of 1993 without consulting anything at all. I do believe that we got [...]]]> Anyone who’s been in my garden, talked gardening with me, or even been a frequent guest on this site, will know of my love for Gayla Trail’s gardening books and blog. Steph and I could get WWGD (What Would Gayla Do?) bracelets, we refer to her so often. This spring she brought out a new book, Easy Growing, which focuses on herbs and edible flowers. While we grew some herbs last year, this book was probably the push that got us to embrace edible flowers this year. (We’re taking the easy route to start, using Urban Harvest’s edible flowers mix.) Like my perennial favourite Grow Great Grub, Easy Growing is packed with essential info and gorgeous photographs, but really stands out from other garden writing because of its grounded advice that keeps it real and makes gardening a possibility for anyone. (Yes, anyone.)

 JK: I learned to garden from you, but where did you pick up your initial gardening know-how?

GT: Oh wow. You’ve already made me a bit teary. I grew my first successful in-ground food garden while I lived in a student house in the summer of 1993 without consulting anything at all. I do believe that we got some advice from my roommate’s dad who also delivered a trailer full of manure to enrich the soil and a bunch of transplants. I’m not sure how much would have come from that garden without his donation, as I really didn’t know much except that I had to dig up the sod and keep things watered. The tomatoes and peppers were planted too far into the shade and succumbed to slugs, and the lettuces were too far out into the sun and bolted, but other than that I’m shocked by the bounty that I was able to enjoy. I had no income for the month of August before the next school year started and we survived off of that garden. I do recall going to the bookstore to look for a book but I couldn’t find anything that I could relate to and it was all very overwhelming, so I went about it with almost no knowledge other than the few gardens I had observed and the small attempts I had made previously in other spaces. I had the same problem when I started gardening on the roof, but worse because very little of what I had done before prepared me for the challenges there. The first garden book that I could relate to was Planted by British writer Andy Sturgeon. That book was published in 1998 (I can’t be certain when I bought it), and while I know I glanced and maybe even bought other books before that time, they are all completely unmemorable. Over the years I’ve found many older garden books that are really, really great, I just wasn’t exposed to them at the time.

Most of what I learned in those early days was gleaned by doing and failing (with some successes). Later, I found other gardeners and learned more by talking to them in person and online. These days the garden books I tend to buy are a bit dry and are geared more towards niche topics like hardy succulents and cacti or ethnobotany.

JK: Your books contain some great recipes. Did your culinary skills develop along with your gardening skills? 

GT: Thank you! Looking back on my history with both, I think that they may have developed separately and then came together later naturally. I became a vegetarian at 15 (I’m not now) and that forced me to learn about food and how to prepare it. I started taking cookbooks out of the library around that time. I also worked in various pizzerias as a teen but REALLY learned how to cook when I started working in a good restaurant. I was only the dishwasher and short order/prep cook, but I was exposed to ingredients and techniques that I did not grow up with at home. The chef taught me a variety of indispensable techniques that I have carried through my adult life including how to hold and use a knife properly, how to build a soup from scratch, how to make various sauces, homemade pesto, and make a roux.  As the short order cook I was also responsible for artistically plating up various appetizers and making a range of salad dressings from scratch. I have never had a better Cesar salad or bruschetta anywhere, and believe me I’ve looked. I’m very grateful for that early exposure and training. People pay good money for that kind of hands on education.

I also have a passion for travel and experiencing other cultures through food and plants so the two merge well there.

JK: You also take most of the photos in your book (along with your partner Davin). How did the garden play into your development as a photographer?

GT: Here again the photography came first. I took photography while in school, and was still doing it when the books came along. The photos I take elsewhere were and still are in many ways very different, in part because in my personal photo work I prefer to use film, but must use digital for this work. I had to learn how to take good garden photos through trial and error.

JK: What’s your greatest challenge as a gardener? What about as a gardening writer?

GT: Lack of space is my greatest challenge. I want to grow much more than I have space for, although I always manage to fit more in.

My challenges as a garden writer have shifted over time. Way back when I was worried about my lack of experience and being taken seriously. The other big one was not fitting into a mould that I wrongly assumed was required of garden writers. Well, to be honest I’ve found that a lot of those assumptions are there (and pushed), but they’re out of date and tend to breed banality and show the garden world (and gardeners especially) in a very homogenous and unreal light.

For the first 8 years I felt like an outsider and it was unnerving when I first stepped out into this world in a professional capacity with my first book and then later doing TV appearances. I had no idea what it would be like; I struggled to keep hold of and be who I am while navigating a professional space that is very much unlike the joyful solitude I experience in the garden. I suppose I still struggle with that aspect of it, but that’s only one part of what I do.

In terms of the writing the challenges now are more about pushing the work to evolve with me and to write in ways that scare the crap out of me.

JK: Why write these books, and specifically Easy Growing? What didn’t you see in existing gardening books that you wanted to offer?

GT: When it comes down to it I write for the person that I was when I first started out as a gardener. I make the sort of books I would have liked and needed then: books that are beautiful and full of inspiring images that are doable for someone living on a budget in a truly small space, who wants a garden that is both functional and creative. At the same time I am also making books for the gardener I am now and appealing to my ongoing excitement for unusual plants, my love of exploration and discovery, and the fun I have experimenting in the kitchen with the edible plants that I grow.

I made Easy Growing because there wasn’t enough space in the second book, Grow Great Grub, to delve into herbs and edible flowers in the detail that they deserve. In the end I like that it is its own book as that gave me the chance to focus on and highlight the attributes that make them so unique in the edible plant world, especially for small space urban gardeners who are faced with specific challenges (poor, compacted soil, very little room, container-only gardens) that herbs in particular are generally very amenable to.

JK: You’ve made your name as an urban gardener, but would you ever be tempted to defect to the countryside for more space?

GT: Good question! I love nature but I’m also a city dweller through and through, so I don’t see myself moving out to the countryside full time. I like walking or biking and can’t picture a more car-centric lifestyle. I also hate the winter so if I were to go live in the country it would have to be somewhere warm, like, say, Spain. That said, my dream is to have a little place in the country that I can go to for the growing season and have a gigantic garden to play around in. My partner and I have only just got our driver’s licenses as a first step to making that dream possible.

JK: If you could encourage people to grow just one thing, what would it be? What would you grow if you could only grow one kind of plant?

GT: Gardening, and especially food gardening, is very subjective, so I try not to tell people what they should grow, but rather encourage them to grow something that they really want but maybe don’t think they can grow.

I’ve thought about this desert island question at length. I am an equal opportunity plant lover and have found that the more I know, the more I like, and the more I want to grow! Every trip I go on seems to unleash a new obsession in me. I’m a plant monster. For that reason, growing just one kind of plant is my version of hell, but if I HAD to narrow it down I’d choose tomatoes. There have been years in which I’ve found myself slightly less enthusiastic about the tomato harvest than others for whatever reason, yet regardless of my mood or the weather, they never let me down. There’s also so much diversity, one could only grow tomatoes for the rest of their life and never get bored or grow the same variety twice.

JK: What are your essential destinations for gardeners in Toronto?

GT: I’ve been blown away by some big botanical gardens, but when it comes down to it I prefer to see real gardens grown by passionate gardeners. I really like Ward’s Island for that reason, because you can stroll or bike along the sidewalks (without cars) and experience a lot of real gardens. Most places don’t have backyards or fences so you can see many of the gardens from a distance. Plus there are some really nice wetlands there and it’s all easily accessible by a short ferry ride from the city.

The High Park and Leslie Spit allotments are also worth seeing if you can get access. They’ve both been around for years and have that great lived-in look that is more like you’d expect to see at a British allotment garden. There’s a hardy cactus garden at the Leslie Spit allotments that is a very unique use for a public garden space. My favorite public garden in the city is the Music Garden at Harbourfront.

JK: I’m building a soundtrack of songs to garden to. (There will inevitably be a lot of Sarah Harmer). Do you have any suggestions?

GT: Yes! I wrote a post on this subject in 2008, complete with soundtrack. http://www.yougrowgirl.com/2008/12/12/gifts-for-gardeners-to-make-music-to-garden-to/

I also recommend this song, “Sliced Tomatoes.” http://www.yougrowgirl.com/2009/02/18/sliced-tomatoes-and-other-songs/ Listen to it while you are sowing your tomato seeds and picturing all of the delicious sliced tomatoes you’ll be enjoying on sandwiches come summer.

JK: Are you planning another book anytime soon?

GT: Always! I have lots of ideas that should keep me busy for years to come. The hard part is finding the energy. These last two were marathons and I’m finding myself drawn to spending some time in my garden just enjoying it without the frantic pull of book-related deadlines. I have a few ideas that are very different than the first three, and there is one in particular that I have had outlined for several years now and almost did before Easy Growing.

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Many, many thanks to Gayla Trail for taking the time to answer these questions so thoroughly, and of course, for inspiring me to take up something which has brought me so much joy in the last couple years. (Sappy, but true.) And thanks are also due to Lindsey Reeder at Random House, who made this interview happen: Reeder, your favourite person stock has gone through the roof.

For more on Jenna and her farming life, I’d highly recommend you check out her excellent blog, Cold Antler Farm.

If we haven’t run off to start a farm and buy a goat, Books in 140 Seconds will be back next month, when we’ll share some mad love for Heather Birrell’s Mad Hope.

But I am, at times, an ambivalent ecoholic. I am fanatical about recycling and composting and electricity use. I use earth-friendly cleaning products. I reuse and freecycle. I grow as much of my own (organic) food as possible. I try to eat less meat, and “happy” meat. I take public transit, walk a lot, and am working on my two-wheeler relationship. But that said, there are so many things I don’t do. There are so many things that I’m even afraid to acknowledge that I should do, because so often it leads to guilt and anger.

A big part of the reason is that I feel lied to. By my government who I trusted to protect me from hazardous chemicals, but who I shouldn’t have, given all the insidious things that are in everyday products. By the companies who made those products. By advertisers and beauty magazines who told me I need the product, or [...]]]> This weekend the Green Living Show came to Toronto, assembling over 400 eco exhibitors in the Direct Energy center. It’s a show I’ve looked forward to since my first visit last year, an opportunity to try new products and hunt for deals, a day of aspirational living.

But I am, at times, an ambivalent ecoholic. I am fanatical about recycling and composting and electricity use. I use earth-friendly cleaning products. I reuse and freecycle. I grow as much of my own (organic) food as possible. I try to eat less meat, and “happy” meat. I take public transit, walk a lot, and am working on my two-wheeler relationship. But that said, there are so many things I don’t do. There are so many things that I’m even afraid to acknowledge that I should do, because so often it leads to guilt and anger.

A big part of the reason is that I feel lied to. By my government who I trusted to protect me from hazardous chemicals, but who I shouldn’t have, given all the insidious things that are in everyday products. By the companies who made those products. By advertisers and beauty magazines who told me I need the product, or at least that I should want it. That it’ll make me “better,” when secretly it might be harming me.

And of course being an ecoholic can be pricey. All the products that are genuinely green have much higher price points, they go on sale less frequently, and it’s hard to comparison shop when they’re harder to find. And being even more fanatical about frugality than I am about recycling, this is a very difficult one for me. (But I think hunting for green bargains may just the new frontier of thriftiness.) To be fair, being green is not always more expensive, but depending on your level of DIY skills (mine are middling at best), it certainly can be. (And I know when you take into environmental and health care costs, these products are cheaper, but when I feel short-sighted and selfish, these long term investments don’t seem as urgent as my current bank balance.)

Being an ecoholic also opens up a new hypersensitivity, when even a trip to a public bathroom is fraught with water wastage, individually wrapped toilet paper, bad-chemical goo in soap form, and a trash bin overflowing with used paper towels. And that’s just a couple of minutes of one day. Add in the fact that so many people don’t seem to care, and sometimes it’s just easier to switch off, to go back to the world I was raised in, where Mr. Clean and Maybelline are a-okay, because otherwise it’s exhausting.

So thank god for Adria Vasil. I’ve written about the NOW! columnist’s first book, Ecoholic, before, and it’s a guide I’d recommend to anyone. Since then she’s expanded into two additional volumes, Ecoholic Home (2009) and Ecoholic Body (2012). At first I thought these would just be redundant, as there is some overlap with the first book, but they’re not. They go much deeper than the original guide (at 352 pages) could have. (In fact, Ecoholic Body weighs in at a mean 480.) These tomes manage to be both encyclopedic and accessible, really breaking things down, analyzing every product category you could think of, from sex toys to t-shirt printing. Vasil also pulls out sidebars of essential info including extra resources, DIY projects, chemical hit lists, or certification logo decoders. It’s shocking stuff: for an example, check out Vasil’s recent NOW piece in which she subjects herself to lab tests to see what chemicals lurk in her body. Ecoholic Home and Body also top-notch consumer guides, offering ratings of the most popular products, whether window cleaners or underarm deodorants. Here they really pay off, because, especially where the health and beauty products are concerned, it can be a long, costly, and occasionally unattractive road to finding an effective product. Because we all love pretty things, it’s worth mentioning that like the first book, these sequels are beautifully designed by Kelly Hill — the two-colour text adorned with gorgeous line drawings and plenty of sidebars and callouts to add visual interest.

Though perhaps the greatest strength of Vasil’s books are their tone. Her writing is hard hitting but lively, sometimes funny, and not meant to make you feel bad. It’s just meant to make you want to try harder, to open your eyes to things as they are, public bathrooms and all. She doesn’t thrust blame on individual consumers, but on corporations and governments, and she gives you the info you need to make yourself heard to them.

And, ambivalent as I can sometimes be, I’m making progress, in small steps, one product or habit at a time. In the immortal words of that noble frog sage, “It’s not easy being green,” but with an ace ecoholic like Adria Vasil on your side, things get a little bit easier.

I’ve been reading a lot of farming books for the last year (as the members of my book club can attest). Inspired by the wonderful annotated lists at 49th Shelf, I wanted to share my own selections for essential tomes on my Gardening, Farming and Food Shelf. (I’ve also thrown in a few documentaries, just for fun.) Not surprisingly, my list got pretty long, so I’ll break it down into a three posts:

Song of Myself, by Walt Whitman

Because this is jubilant poetry to be read in the ecstasy of summer, lying in the grass (and naked if you can manage it). This kind of love for the land and all its people is my heartsong.

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.]. Walden, by Henry David Thoreau

Though first published in 1854, Thoreau is still an essential text for today’s self-sufficiency movement. In this collection of essays written while living in the woods (if barely), Thoreau emphasizes self-sufficiency, return to nature, solitude, and the spiritual discovery that comes from all of these choices. “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when [...]]]>

I’ve been reading a lot of farming books for the last year (as the members of my book club can attest). Inspired by the wonderful annotated lists at 49th Shelf, I wanted to share my own selections for essential tomes on my Gardening, Farming and Food Shelf. (I’ve also thrown in a few documentaries, just for fun.) Not surprisingly, my list got pretty long, so I’ll break it down into a three posts:

Song of Myself, by Walt Whitman

Because this is jubilant poetry to be read in the ecstasy of summer, lying in the grass (and naked if you can manage it). This kind of love for the land and all its people is my heartsong.

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Walden, by Henry David Thoreau

Though first published in 1854, Thoreau is still an essential text for today’s self-sufficiency movement. In this collection of essays written while living in the woods (if barely), Thoreau emphasizes self-sufficiency, return to nature, solitude, and the spiritual discovery that comes from all of these choices. “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. . . . I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms.” (There is more beyond those topics to enjoy. Consider these words on reading (though Thoreau was, it must be admitted, a terrible snob about these things): “The book exists for us perchance which will explain our miracles and reveal new ones. The at present unutterable things we may find somewhere uttered.”)

Trauma Farm, by Brian Brett

I’ve talked about this one a great deal here, because for me, this was a life changer, and probably the reason this bookshelf list is so long. A memoir distilling 18 years of small farm life into a single day, Trauma Farm is part personal memoir, part natural history, part environmental manifesto, and part poetry, a sort of hymn channeled from the land itself. This modern day Walden is a love story for the land, calling on us to rediscover our relationships with nature, our food, and each other.

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Grow Great Grub, by Gayla Trail

When I’m trying to convince people to pick up a spade, this is the book I give them. It’s a gorgeously (and clearly!) designed book, with just the right amount of detail that makes it great for a beginner or a worthwhile text to return to (I reread it frequently). Above all, though, it’s Gayla’s down-to-earth (no pun intended) and realistic attitude that makes this book inspiring. I’d also recommend her first book You Grow Girl, which is a little more basic with less focus on organic growing. Sadly it’s not as pretty due to the chick-litty illustration explosion, but it still has the same great information and approach. Stay tuned for an interview with Gayla (!) and more on her brand new book, Easy Growing (also recommended as a great companion to one of the other two).  Her blog is a daily delight.

.Farm Anatomy: The Curious Parts and Pieces of Country Life, by Julia Rothman

A whimsical, illustrated guide to farm life from tractor types to tomatoes to rooster combs. While it has some basic information (and a few recipes), it’s really all about the beautiful illustrations, which are sure to get you assembling these “parts and pieces” into your own dream farm.

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No-Impact Man, by Colin Beaven

Part environmental experiment (and let’s face it, stunt), part philosophical text, part personal memoir, I include this book because it’s an interesting study in what we really need, and what we can do without. While the experiment is about trying to reduce the impact you have on the planet, the book isn’t about regression to the times before the glory of the toaster or the hot shower (two things I’m not sure I could live without), but rather about being consciously aware of what you do need and the impact it has. There’s a good documentary of the same title I’d recommend as well, although it’s a much less philosophical work than the book itself. (And yes, you can watch it on Netflix!)
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Small-Plot, High Yield Gardening, by Sal Gibertie & Larry Sheehan

There is a tremendous amount of information packed into this book. While there aren’t any photos or illustrations, and it’s not really notable for design, if you want planting peppers broken down step by step (something that’s often necessary), this is the book for you. I’ve highlighted the heck out of mine, and still refer to it all the time.

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The Bucolic Plague: How Two Manhattanites Became Gentlemen Farmers: An Unconventional Memoir, by Josh Kilmer-Purcell

A charming, funny and candid memoir by a Manhattan ad exec (and former drag queen) who buys a farm with his partner, Martha Stewart VP Brent Ridge, and eventually launches a goat-milk soap business, Beekman 1802. This book had me laughing out loud within pages, and while you won’t get a lot of practical farming advice, our two gentleman are fascinating characters and their clash of ideals (perfection vs. self-actualization, or, as Josh calls it Martha Stewart vs. Oprah) will resonate with many. While many books by farmers disparage “hobby farmers” (read: wealthy city folk who buy up land and don’t properly use it), this book allows this oft-maligned category to speak for itself. (They have an impressive website chock full of useful info, which I’d also recommend. Their story also became a reality TV show, The Fabulous Beekman Boys, but I haven’t seen it.)

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This American Life (TV version), Season One, Episode 6 “Pandora’s Box”

I include this episode because it was my first real exposure to the realities of factory farming. A journalist goes to a pig factory and gets an introduction to the feeding, housing and reproductive practices. The cameraman is totally overwhelmed, and actually has to take time outs from filming. He doesn’t eat meat again after the experience. (The TV series is fantastic viewing start to finish, by the way, so if you haven’t watched it or listened to the This American Life podcast don’t delay — your Ira crush is waiting.)

That’s it for this round, but there are many more books on the shelf, so stay tuned!

I was raised in a family of mostly introverts in the suburbs, where comfortable lawn buffers insulate us from our neighbours. In university I had a roommate from small-town Nova Scotia, and I discovered the inherent intrusiveness of small town living from her, listening in on phone conversations or gossip with her family as they sussed out the 5Ws of every town happening with the dedication of the most hard-nosed journalist (and a lot more delight). A couple years later I ended up in Toronto, where people may mind their own business, but sheer density and proximity force us into one another’s orbits.

Gardening is often praised as a community builder — which, as I said, I’m all in favour of in principle, or for others, but I’m wary of myself — it’s “Stranger Danger” all over. Sometimes I don’t want to impose on people, and generally I’m reluctant to go through those halting steps and stumbles that often come with new conversations and unfamiliar terrain. I usually choose the awkwardness of mutually ignoring someone over the awkwardness [...]]]> A confession: I’m a big supporter of community building in theory, but when I have to get involved, I get a little gun shy.

I was raised in a family of mostly introverts in the suburbs, where comfortable lawn buffers insulate us from our neighbours. In university I had a roommate from small-town Nova Scotia, and I discovered the inherent intrusiveness of small town living from her, listening in on phone conversations or gossip with her family as they sussed out the 5Ws of every town happening with the dedication of the most hard-nosed journalist (and a lot more delight). A couple years later I ended up in Toronto, where people may mind their own business, but sheer density and proximity force us into one another’s orbits.

Gardening is often praised as a community builder — which, as I said, I’m all in favour of in principle, or for others, but I’m wary of myself — it’s “Stranger Danger” all over. Sometimes I don’t want to impose on people, and generally I’m reluctant to go through those halting steps and stumbles that often come with new conversations and unfamiliar terrain. I usually choose the awkwardness of mutually ignoring someone over the awkwardness of conversation. (At least the former is quicker and more conducive to reading.)

But our backyard garden is itself a product of community. As I’ve mentioned before, it was our elderly Italian neighbour, Vito,  who taught Steph the fundamentals of gardening, and, we’ve recently learned, his family has been growing food in our garden for the last 40 years. He has since passed away, but his wife still lives there, looking on approvingly as we work our land. Vito’s grown son passes on advice, and the occasional plant or garden implement to keep us going.

The suburban introvert in me is still occasionally uncomfortable with these over-the-fence interactions, but this weekend I may have had a breakthrough. Good Friday was a good day indeed, 14 degrees and sunny, the perfect weather for the heavy lifting of early spring garden prep. Steph had her sights set on a big day of digging and clearing and repairing and trimming, and when a couple of apartment dwelling friends came over, they soon ended up with shovels in hand. As soon as I saw the team working away (and heard the strains of the Tragically Hip over our portable speakers), I too joined the taskforce, planting the tomato seeds soon to take their place under our brand new grow light. A barbecue seemed inevitable. My boyfriend arrived and was recruited to help, and soon our neighbour insisted he pick up a shovel and expand the main bed, and we had six people on hand. By the time we sat down to burgers and beer, Steph’s boyfriend arrived, and my BF and the neighbour were discussing dinosaurs over the meal. We’d found a suspected horse tooth in the garden. The music played on. At one point I looked down from my 3rd floor apartment, and took in all the people working and all the progress we’d made. I felt a leap of pleasure.

The next day Steph and I were back in the garden on our own, continuing the previous day’s work. We both fell  to what we do best, with me attending to planting and planning, Steph to clearing and building. And then Mrs. Vito Sr. emerged from the house next door, shuffling our way with some difficulty, a plate in hand. She reached over the fence, handing us a plate of deep-fried something, which turned out to be rice balls. They were piping hot, the grease on them still glistened in the sunshine. In her broken English she explained what they were, and we talked about the weather and the garden and all the food that it had produced. And then she shuffled back inside, leaving us to smile through hot, gooey mouthfuls. I might just be developing a taste for community.

Kingsolver narrates most of the book by combining the informational and the intensely personal into meditative prose that can be measured or lyrical, as her subject matter requires. Her principal narrative is complemented by informational sidebars from her husband and end of chapter recipes and perspectives from Camille. While at first I had to suppress an eye roll that Kingsolver’s teenage daughter contributed to the project, I came to appreciate her perspective, one I wish I had had at her age. Her recipes (with an emphasis on seasonal ingredients, naturally) are inspiring, and it’s fitting that the book, like the farm, [...]]]> It seems appropriate to start Gardening, Farming and Food month with a book that not only contains all three, but could be called an essential text of the local food movement. Published in 2007, Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle documents a year in her family’s life after they leave their urban Arizona home to live off the land in Southern Appalachia. Along with her husband, an environmental science professor, and her daughters Camille, 19, and Lily, 8, Kingsolver builds a food network for their family in an attempt to get all their food (or at least most of it) locally.

Kingsolver narrates most of the book by combining the informational and the intensely personal into meditative prose that can be measured or lyrical, as her subject matter requires. Her principal narrative is complemented by informational sidebars from her husband and end of chapter recipes and perspectives from Camille. While at first I had to suppress an eye roll that Kingsolver’s teenage daughter contributed to the project, I came to appreciate her perspective, one I wish I had had at her age. Her recipes (with an emphasis on seasonal ingredients, naturally) are inspiring, and it’s fitting that the book, like the farm, became a family project.

And interestingly, it was the way food played a part in family connections that stayed with me. In Kingsolver’s family, the preparation and consumption of meals are an occasion for the family to come together, to share the events of their day, to be helpful, to be playful, to celebrate. While she acknowledges that some meals must come together quickly, she notes, “If I were to define my style of feeding my family, on a permanent basis, as ‘Get it over with, quick,’ something cherished in our family life would collapse.” Cooking and eating become sacred ritual activities that extend beyond the practical (though this is an important part of it.)

When it comes time to put up the harvest, so much more is being preserved than peaches or tomatoes. Food not only strengthens their ties to each other, but to tradition, to family members long gone or far away. One of my favourite chapters was “Celebration Days,” a time in which food and family traditionally come together, and Kingsolver finds herself reflecting on kinship beyond her immediate family circle, and on the kitchen legacies she has been bequeathed:

“When I’m cooking, I find myself inhabiting the emotional companionship of the person who taught me how to make a particular dish, or with whom I used to cook it. . . . my tiny great aunt Lena, who served huge, elaborate meals at her table but would never sit down there with us herself, insisting on eating alone in the kitchen instead. My grandmother Kingsolver, who started every meal plan with dessert. My other grandmother, who made perfect rolls and gravy. My Henry grandfather, who used a cool attic room to cure the dark hams and fragrant cloth-wrapped sausages he made from his own hogs. My father, who first took me mushroom hunting and taught me to love wild asparagus. My mother, whose special way of beating eggs makes them fly in an ellipses in the bowl. Here I stand in the consecrated presence of all they have wished for me, and cooked for me.”

Of course it’s not all cooking and eating, there’s a good portion of the book dedicated to growing and harvesting, whether it’s the first asparagus of spring, the unstoppable summer squash, or the first eggs of Lily’s egg laying business (yes, this is an eight-year-old with an entrepreneurial spirit). Her trip to visit some Amish friends is particularly fascinating. One can’t help but be carried away by Kingsolver’s blend of enthusiasm, reverence and practicality. She makes cheesemaking seem like a snap (if not an obvious choice), raising chickens child’s play (literally). That’s not to say it’s all fun and games, like every good farm book, she’s got a fairly graphic chapter on slaughter day, she spends much of August cooped up in a steamy kitchen over canning jars, she does miss some of the foods she’s given up.

And yet my only complaint with the book is that overall everything goes deceptively smoothly. Unlike books like The 100-Mile Diet, which honesty documents some of the conflicts, tensions, and frustrations that emerge when embarking on an ambitious local eating project like this one, this is a fairly sunny portrait. (To be fair, those crazy 100-Milers, who did their experiment around the same time, were much stricter and had fewer resources.) But further, this is not the debt-ridden experience of most first-time farmers. They already owned the land, and both Kingsolver and her husband have flexible, well-paying jobs that allow them to work on the farm while earning a reliable paycheque. Sadly not everyone can have Kingsolver’s “A Year of Food Life,” as the subtitle suggests. But its main principles are still available to anyone: eat locally, and if possible, organic; grow what food you can; eat meat from animals that had good lives and humane deaths; make mealtime a priority, a pleasure; and, most importantly, share all this with your loved ones, with your community. In our mile-a-minute society, she reminds us to slow down, that time and effort come back as independence, as sustenance, as connectivity. She knows, like any good gardener (or anyone who must live through winter) that “Value is not made of money, but a tender balance of expectation and longing.”

And read over Christmas, and completed on our winter escape to my dad’s farm, that’s what this book planted in me, a balance of expectation and longing, the delicious anticipation to see how these principles, these ideas, these passions will bloom in my own backyard.

You’ve seen it. You’ve felt it. Spring is here. Crocuses and daffodils have been poking through the soil and unfolding in the sunlight. People are unfolding too, as winter coats (and sometimes coats altogether) have been shed with relief. Stepping outside, you’re greeted by the scent of wet earth. There have never been more dedicated cyclists or runners or dog walkers or stroller pushes. People are smiling more.

So what better way to spend the month of April than returning to the land, focusing on books on gardening, farming, and food (GFF, for short). Regular readers may have noticed I’ve become fairly obsessed with these things, and I’ve decided to dedicate this month to writing about the things I’m really excited to share, that I think need to be shared. We’ll kick things off with a post on Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, but along with review-type pieces you’ll also find an annotated list of my essential GFF, interviews, an appropriately themed Books in 140 Seconds video, and maybe even a garden song or two.

If that appeals, or you think it just might, stick around, it’ll be grand. If not, not to worry — come back in May, where we’ll be [...]]]>

You’ve seen it. You’ve felt it. Spring is here. Crocuses and daffodils have been poking through the soil and unfolding in the sunlight. People are unfolding too, as winter coats (and sometimes coats altogether) have been shed with relief. Stepping outside, you’re greeted by the scent of wet earth. There have never been more dedicated cyclists or runners or dog walkers or stroller pushes. People are smiling more.

So what better way to spend the month of April than returning to the land, focusing on books on gardening, farming, and food (GFF, for short). Regular readers may have noticed I’ve become fairly obsessed with these things, and I’ve decided to dedicate this month to writing about the things I’m really excited to share, that I think need to be shared. We’ll kick things off with a post on Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, but along with review-type pieces you’ll also find an annotated list of my essential GFF, interviews, an appropriately themed Books in 140 Seconds video, and maybe even a garden song or two.

If that appeals, or you think it just might, stick around, it’ll be grand. If not, not to worry — come back in May, where we’ll be back in business talking about great books like Heather Birrell’s Mad Hope. But I really do hope you’ll read on through April. Just watch out, gardening fever is highly contagious.

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To catch up on some of my GFF posts of past, check out:

• Where it all began: Gayla Trail’s Grow Great Grub
• My Garden Backstory
• Books in 140 Seconds on One Bird’s Choice (my farm gateway book)
• Review of No Impact Man
• Books in 140 Seconds on The 100-Mile Diet
• Review of Ecoholic
• Books in 140 Seconds on The City Homesteader
• My Farm Fixation & Trauma Farm

Next month’s video will be on a special theme, to be revealed tomorrow! So stay tuned for that, and a whole month of goodness ahead.

JK (@jen_knoch) – Farm Anatomy, by Julia Rothman

Mark Luk – The Bridge of Birds, by Barry Hughart

Sally (@sallyspar) – You are a Cat, by Sherwin Tjia

Can you tell this video was done after a hot yoga class? Now that’s keepin’ it real.

Don’t be a stranger. We’ll be back next month with more video goodness!

Sarah & Erin (with support from JK): The Art of Fielding, Chad Harbach

Jordan: Life: A Natural History of the First 4 Billion Years of Life on Earth, Richard Fortay

Nic: The Dylan Dog Casefiles, Tizlano Sclavi

Read it. You won’t regret it. Erin and I both agree it’s one of our favourite books of 2011.

So a new year, and a new Books in 140 Seconds. We’re not going anywhere, but after almost 50 videos we may be around a little less often to ensure that we still make great videos about great books. Keep tuning in for all the critical commentary, yelling, and, of course, laughing at our own jokes you’ve come to expect. Look for our next video at the beginning of February. See you then.

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. [...]]]> 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. The language is rich, it’s filled with humour and pathos, but his most notable achievement is in creating Joyce Sparks, a fiesty, often cantankerous old woman reflecting on her life and her relationship with her deceased son. Her son was gay, and it was something Joyce simply couldn’t face. Having such an intolerant protagonist will likely create a striking dissonance in most readers, as you empathize with Joyce while being horrified by her actions at the same time. This is one of the most moving and meaningful explorations I’ve ever read of what it means to be a mother.

The Art of Fielding by Chad Harbach: This book has gotten a lot of attention this year, and justifiably so. A baseball book that’s not about baseball, it’s the complete package with confident, unobtrusive writing, a swiftly moving plot (I burned through its 600 pages in no time), a cast of characters so real I fretted about them when I wasn’t reading, and rich literary allusions. With a similar setting, tone, and characters, and the same narrative fullness, it’s a John Irving novel without the incest and the bears. Except perhaps even better.

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Friday Night Lights by H.G. Bissinger: Now this is a sports book that is about sports, but it’s also about so much more: about race, gender, class, poverty, education, Texas, and sports fanaticism. It’s about turning teens into heroes, most of whom will never match those few nights of glory under the lights. This was a controversial, inflammatory book when it came out in 1990, giving one of America’s most cherished pastimes (and certainly Texas’s) the expose treatment. But it’s also worth reading because it’s beautifully written, and though critical, still quite balanced.

Related reco (because I can’t resist): Friday Night Lights (TV version), the single best TV show I’ve ever watched. With the best developed and written characters on TV, creative filming, and more heart than you’d think imaginable, this is a great use of 60 or 70 hours of your life. I laughed, I cheered, I raged, and I cried (a ton). In fact, I cried for the last 15 minutes straight of the series finale, because it was so perfect and it was ending. Tami Taylor is my role model for life, and Coach Taylor taught me about much more than football. Because, of course, it’s a show not really about football. I’ve never met more passionate fans than those of FNL, whose hearts always swell when they hear “Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can’t Lose.”

Trauma Farm by Brian Brett (2009): I think when I look back on books that changed my life, this will be one of them. It prompted a serious reexamination of where I am, and where I hope to be in a few years. I’ve written 2/3 of a post that goes deeper on this one (I started it on Thanksgiving . . . sigh), but here’s what I wrote about it recommending it for the Advent Book Blog: A memoir distilling 18 years of small farm life into a single day, Trauma Farm is part personal memoir, part natural history, part environmental manifesto, and part poetry, a sort of hymn channeled from the land itself. This modern day Walden is a love story for the land, calling on us to rediscover our relationships with nature, our food, and each other.

Obscure CanLit Mama by Carrie Anne Snyder: Granted, this one is a blog, if by a Canadian fiction writer. I came to it through Kerry Clare (another one of my few cherished blog reads). Apprehensive about motherhood as I am, I never thought I’d find myself reading a blog by a mother of four (with the word “Mama” in the title no less), but Carrie’s posts have become daily reading for me, and because she is a mother, not in spite of it. Because this is a mother who manages to maintain things I value dearly (regular creative output, physical fitness — marathons & triathlons even! — and eco-conscious sustainable living), even while raising four young children. Because her posts take quotidian details and turn them into greater food for thought. Because those posts often value effort and engagement over perfection. Because they’re honest, sincere, warm, hopeful. Because she makes me think about my own goals and values, and the end result is that I always want to be better, to try to achieve even a part of what she achieves in one day, even without the four children. Anyway, her latest book, The Juliet Stories, will be out this spring from House of Anansi, and I can’t wait until the day I can walk into a bookstore and pick it up, for more Carrie goodness and to support someone who has given me a lot without even knowing it.

So farewell, 2011. You were a good year, bringing an abundance of great books, food, friends, love, yoga, and, recently, one adorable kitten. In 2012, hopefully I’ll be around here more often than I have been recently. Hopefully you’ll come ’round too.

I’m building an ultimate literary farm crawl in my head now. It’d start with Lilac Hill, then onto Trauma Farm, and maybe onto Cold Antler Farm . . . More on Trauma Farm to come, by the way, with a post I started writing on Thanksgiving. I’m sure it will be ready any month now.

Next time on Books in 140 Seconds, we’re going to bat for an unforgettable debut novel, Chad Harbach’s The Art of Fielding.

No offense to David Adams Richards. I like him. (Proof here.) But God he’s depressing.

We’ll be back again in a fortnight, talking (gushing, yelling, hand waving) about Brian Brett’s small farm memoir/manifesto/anthem/yawp Trauma Farm.

(Also, need we really mention that we’re jealous we don’t have an awesome talking head comic featuring us?)

In two weeks check back here as we return to novels with Dani Couture’s Algoma.

But first, a little context: Iceland only has a population of around 320,000 (not much more than the population of my suburban hometown!), and are fiercely proud and protective of their language and culture. They even have a language board that invents Icelandic equivalents for new words (like cellphone or email), so that English doesn’t creep in. (And further, after they got their independence from Denmark, a large number of Danish words were expunged from the language.) Yet even with such a small population, Reykjavík had 3 bookstores in the downtown area (2 part of what seems to be the major chain, Eymundsson) each with several [...]]]> I was fortunate enough to do some business-related travelling to London recently, and looking for an additional adventure to tack on, I decided to explore the volcanoes and fjords of exotic Iceland. Wherever I go I tend to gravitate toward bookstores, and when I can, I’ll report back on my adventures here (see reports on Bookstores of San Franscisco and on my trip to The Strand in NYC). So as I rambled through downtown Reykjavík where I was staying, I stopped to wander through the shelves and snap a few photos for inquiring minds here.

But first, a little context: Iceland only has a population of around 320,000 (not much more than the population of my suburban hometown!), and are fiercely proud and protective of their language and culture. They even have a language board that invents Icelandic equivalents for new words (like cellphone or email), so that English doesn’t creep in. (And further, after they got their independence from Denmark, a large number of Danish words were expunged from the language.) Yet even with such a small population, Reykjavík had 3 bookstores in the downtown area (2 part of what seems to be the major chain, Eymundsson) each with several floors of books in Icelandic and usually a substantial English section. (As a point of interest, all the ones I went in also sold office supplies and tourist items — they actually reminded me more of university bookstores in that way.) Like most things in Iceland, the books aren’t cheap: a trade paperback will run you around ISK3000 (around CDN$26.00). But even that’s quite remarkable, considering the economies of scale are not working in their favour.

Here’s a tour around the first store, Mal Og Menning

Here’s the view on entering the store. Note touristy knickknacks up front, but beyond that, the books:

In the English section, Stuff English Speaking Icelanders Like: Christian Lander.

View from upstairs, with my back to the coffee shop. (Reykjavík does cafes in general very well. So many quirky, cool looking places to get your caffeine fix. Hipsters would lose their minds.) Love those birdies:

The Children’s Dungeon (Basement) is super cheery.

Now onto the chain. View from the street:

A look inside:

Upstairs, with some beauteous window seats looking out onto the street:

The Pegster was very well represented at this store (the other had only one or two titles), and the new Ondaatje was already on the shelves. No Alice in sight though, which is interesting, because she’s usually well-represented on the international scene:

The coffee shop was in a greenhouse of sorts. Makes sense during the long, dark winter months. We should do this in Canada:

And I think that wraps up our tour! Let me finish with a ringing endorsement for the Land of Ice (actually there wasn’t much ice at all –  it was summer). Go see it for yourself.

Next up, we’re combining our love for graphic novels and NPR to talk about Brooke Gladstone’s The Influencing Machine (we also may start referring to ourselves as that).

Didn’t take notes in class? Don’t worry, I did. Here are the recos and assorted things that amused me: Sarah (@SarahLabrie) Here Comes Trouble, by Michael Moore

Erin (@booksin140) — Once a Runner, by John Parker Jr.

In some cases the videos are able to contain most of my thoughts or feelings about a book. In this case, I feel like I didn’t do it justice, so I’m really going to try to write a review of this extraordinary book. Other things I hope to share in this space soon: a post on the bookstores of Iceland and a post on my literary pilgrimage through London (and beyond). I do have a book deadline, so we’ll see how this all shakes out . . .

Anyway, next time on Books in 140 Seconds, we move away from motherhood into the land of men with D.W. Wilson’s short story collection of blue collar small town men, [...]]]> Exhausted by the afternoon desk job drowsiness? Books in 140 Seconds, the expresso shot of book clubs, is here to give you a little buzz. Last week we talked about the ripple effect of a gay teen’s death in Suzette Mayr’s (recently giller longlisted!) Monoceros, and this week we’re still talking about struggles with sexuality, in this case a mother’s with her gay son’s, in the incredibly moving and empathetic portrait of motherhood that is Brian Francis’s Natural Order. Have a look:

In some cases the videos are able to contain most of my thoughts or feelings about a book. In this case, I feel like I didn’t do it justice, so I’m really going to try to write a review of this extraordinary book. Other things I hope to share in this space soon: a post on the bookstores of Iceland and a post on my literary pilgrimage through London (and beyond). I do have a book deadline, so we’ll see how this all shakes out . . .

Anyway, next time on Books in 140 Seconds, we move away from motherhood into the land of men with D.W. Wilson’s short story collection of blue collar small town men, Once You Break a Knuckle.

I don’t know how a book about a tragic high school suicide turned into a group hug, but leave it to Erin and me.

Next Up: We dive into an eagerly anticipated title from the author who gave us Fruit, Brian Francis’s Natural Order.

You may have noticed a dearth of long-form content round these parts. You are very right, and I’m afraid that may be the way of things for a while. Let me offer my apologies, and some reasons. The main one: This chick named Liv Spencer is monopolizing most of my free time. Who is Liv? Why my tween non-fic writing alter ego, shared with the v. talented Crissy Calhoun, with whom I’ve co-authored 3 seminal masterpieces (Taylor Swift: Every Day Is a Fairytale, Love Bites: The Unofficial Saga of Twilight, & The Miranda Cosgrove and iCarly Spectacular!) If these are not on the shelves of tweens of your acquaintance, click on those links and get your credit cards ready. Given the time sensitive nature of these books (though no doubt the springy pop-country anthems of Ms. Swift are ones for the ages), they tend to be pedal-to-the-floor endeavours. Our latest project, and the main source of my blog absenteeism: a companion to wildly popular mash up of Gossip Girl, Veronica Mars, and Desperate Housewives that is Pretty Little Liars. (Do you watch it? Do you want to go over the minutiae of Aria’s often-ill advised fashion choices or [...]]]> Dear gentle readers,

You may have noticed a dearth of long-form content round these parts. You are very right, and I’m afraid that may be the way of things for a while. Let me offer my apologies, and some reasons. The main one: This chick named Liv Spencer is monopolizing most of my free time. Who is Liv? Why my tween non-fic writing alter ego, shared with the v. talented Crissy Calhoun, with whom I’ve co-authored 3 seminal masterpieces (Taylor Swift: Every Day Is a Fairytale, Love Bites: The Unofficial Saga of Twilight, & The Miranda Cosgrove and iCarly Spectacular!) If these are not on the shelves of tweens of your acquaintance, click on those links and get your credit cards ready. Given the time sensitive nature of these books (though no doubt the springy pop-country anthems of Ms. Swift are ones for the ages), they tend to be pedal-to-the-floor endeavours. Our latest project, and the main source of my blog absenteeism: a companion to wildly popular mash up of Gossip Girl, Veronica Mars, and Desperate Housewives that is Pretty Little Liars. (Do you watch it? Do you want to go over the minutiae of Aria’s often-ill advised fashion choices or the Gloved Wonder’s evil machinations? Let’s talk.) So not only do I have two seasons of television to watch, I have ten books to read, and a goodly number of words to put to page by November 1st (Words to page thus far: 0).

The ideal summer working environment

So you can imagine, with a busy Books in 140 Seconds reading schedule (2 books I read a month are the same ones Erin reads), and PLL books (plus the books they refer to on the show) to fill in the gaps, there is little time to spend on personal reading. And no time to read means no books to write about (not that I’d have time or energy to write the reviews anyway). Throw in the garden (which is going swimmingly, but does demand regular attention), my insistence on regular exercise, and friends and a boyfriend who like to see me now and again, and time is at a precious minimum. Oh, and did I mention it’s summer? In Canada this is no small thing, and I think it’s our national responsibility to bank as much of this warm outdoor glory as possible before the dehumanizing doldrums of winter. In summer my biggest goal is spending time in the sunshine, preferably lake adjacent. I know people say they’re busy all the time, but really, if it weren’t for my boyfriend who helps keep my Hideout cleanish, I’d probably have succumbed to a mold-borne illness from the pile of dishes in my sink. (Keeping an “adult” home has fallen even below blogging on the priority list.)

This is all to say, things have been slow, and realistically, they probably will be for some time. Books in 140 Seconds will live on on its regular schedule, and I’ll continue to report on things of interest (KIRBC meetings, this weekend’s BookCampTO, and hopefully my trip to Monk’s House to commune with the ghost of Virginia Woolf!). I might even find the time to write a review. While I’m sure this weekend at Book Camp we’ll talk about the tenuous future of the long form review on the Internet, in this case, don’t blame the Internet. If you have to, blame a saucy and unidentified cyber bully named “A.”

I’m posting this from Heaven, by the way. My only regret is that I went out with post-gym hair.

Coming up next: I’ll descend from Heaven into Hell, as we return to high school, reading Suzette Mayr’s Monoceros.

Erin – The City Homesteader, Scott Meyer

Mark  — A Game of Thrones, George R. R. Martin

Loretta — The Collected Stories of Lydia Davis, Lydia Davis

Ron — And the Pursuit of Happiness, Maira Kalman

[I love how horrified my face is in this still. I didn't feel this way about the book, I swear.]

Now we just need a book called “How to Start a Hippie Commune (with goats!)”  Anyone? But until we go back to nature, Erin and I will keep making videos, so tune in next time as we return to graphic novels with Alex Robinson’s Box Office Poison.

Many thanks to @wayfaringreader for sending City Homesteader my way!

We like to keep you on your toes, so next week we’re switching gears again, embracing our inner pioneer with what will be an undoubtedly yelly discussion of The City Homesteader. Happy Canada Day (and an early 4th of July to our American pals). Basically, happy BBQs and fireworks to all!

Happy but humble beginnings.

Almost 25 years later, I’m finding my way back to that garden. It started last summer, when, with the determined change that follows a break-up, I decided I would grow things. Lacking a garden and inspired by Gayla Trail, I assembled some pots, a few seeds and seedlings, and I let the planting begin. (I wrote a post about it, finally understanding Thoreau’s wonder at growing beans.) When those first sprouts emerged, I felt a sense of awe at this miraculous yet mundane event unfurling before me. It was a feeling long forgotten, lost sometime after that pea circle and my sickly yogourt cup bean plant in my early primary days.

My budding fascination was unexpectedly nourished by my father, who, until recently, had taken a gardening hiatus similar to my own. But in the last few years, he has picked up his spade once more, and bragged about [...]]]> My earliest childhood memory is of sitting in a circle of peas in my parents’ backyard garden. The memory is bright, leafy green shot through with sunshine — somehow overexposed, like real memories often are. Even now, I can still feel the lingering warmth of that summertime encirclement.

Happy but humble beginnings.

Almost 25 years later, I’m finding my way back to that garden. It started last summer, when, with the determined change that follows a break-up, I decided I would grow things. Lacking a garden and inspired by Gayla Trail, I assembled some pots, a few seeds and seedlings, and I let the planting begin. (I wrote a post about it, finally understanding Thoreau’s wonder at growing beans.) When those first sprouts emerged, I felt a sense of awe at this miraculous yet mundane event unfurling before me. It was a feeling long forgotten, lost sometime after that pea circle and my sickly yogourt cup bean plant in my early primary days.

My budding fascination was unexpectedly nourished by my father, who, until recently, had taken a gardening hiatus similar to my own. But in the last few years, he has picked up his spade once more, and bragged about his yield so much that last summer I insisted he fork over some of his bounty. He brought a green bag overflowing with potatoes, peppers, beets, beans, and one other thing that shocked us both: a cantaloupe. My dad cradled it in both hands, and looked from it to me with an almost childish grin, “Can you believe it?” he asked. “A melon!” I couldn’t. I didn’t even know how melons grew, let alone that they were things that could be grown by local amateurs.

Steph's toes alongside our first spring crop: Arugula

At the same time, my friend Steph was experiencing a similar gardening renaissance. The house that she lives in (that I now am fortunate to share), provided a rare urban blessing, especially for renters: a large backyard that was hers to do with as she pleased. There was already a garden there, partially used by Vito, the elderly man next door who grew tomatoes and beans in our garden in exchange for tending our grass. His own backyard had also been pressed into service, despite it being mostly concrete — he grew grapes over his back patio that would be turned into wine, tended raised beds of his own and had his own backyard greenhouse. He often looked on as Steph planted her seedlings and weeded her beds, and he’d nod approvingly, “You’re working the land,” he say, pleased to see the younger generation carrying on what he’d worried was becoming a lost skill. He’d dispense the occasional tip on planting (“No, no. Too close. You don’t put two babies in one cradle!”) and probably watered Steph’s crops from time to time. By the end of the summer, the cherry tomatoes plants exploded like popcorn, cucumber vines curled through the garden, and the lettuce and broccoli had grown to a prodigious size. Sadly, Vito passed away last fall, and Steph lost her gardening mentor, but this year as we worked the land in our new, expanded garden, we referred often to Vito’s bits of wisdom. No doubt he’d be pleased.

After last year’s first, wobbling steps, I decided to step things up this year. And deep in the doldrums of February, I found refuge in gardening-type books. I revisited an old favourite, Gayla Trail‘s Grow Great Grub, still the best book I’ve found for urban gardening, and one I’ve recommended extensively (to all of Toronto in fact!). Then highlighter in hand like an eager pupil, I went deeper with Small Plot, High-Yield Gardening, a book that goes into considerable detail on each plant and best growing practices, and though the volume of information is daunting, especially when you haven’t yet put spade to soil, I was still fascinated, and in the midst of gardening, found that detail invaluable. I learned about soil nutrients and plant interaction, growing seasons and crop rotation. Still insatiable, I picked up The 100-Mile Diet, which was not a manifesto as I expected, but rather a relatable account of an ambitious experiment and a diary of rekindling and old relationship — with our food. James and Alisa’s pioneer resourcefulness was inspiring too, and that led me to The City Homesteader, which goes behind gardens to foraging, preserving, and raising livestock in small spaces (more on this one later). On the recommendation of my eco-warrior friend Emily, I also have Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle waiting patiently in the wings.

Garden as of June 18th

It occurs to me that in this day and age, it may be somewhat rare to seek this kind of practical knowledge from books first and foremost. There are tons of gardening websites, instructive YouTube videos, blogs, and so on, but I think computer-based forays would have been much less satisfying. It would have felt like work, whereas this felt like leisurely explorations, strolling and taking in the sights rather than bouncing place to place. The authors, with their consistent voices and approaches, also came to be reliable advisers, the closest thing to a mentor you can get from the page. And with this return to the land, to old practices and techniques, books felt like the appropriate tools. Each morning, loathe to leave the warmth of my bed for the cold darkness of my apartment in the pre-work hours, I’d huddle with coffee, pouring over these volumes. I’m pretty sure they were as good as one of those fake sun lights to fight depression.

And now come spring? The garden’s going even better than I could have dreamed in those dark days of February. Every time a new plant pokes through the soil, I’m as excited as the first time — the first time this season, the first time I sat amongst those peas as a child. I watch the garden with something like the fascination new parents feel for their newborns. I’m thrilled when someone brings me seeds, or a violet transplant from their backyard, and I think the best courtship gift I’ve ever gotten was a new dirt rake from my current gentleman caller. I gravitate toward gardening centres like bees to blossoms. I’m assembling my own little gardening library. And I love knowing that I’m only just getting started — that there will always be more to learn.

Vito’s son gave us some carrot seedlings of his father’s, and I thought it a pretty touching gesture, but also a nice symbolic one. Because even as I’m growing, learning, moving forward, it’s nice to know that this whole project is also a return — to those who went before, to working the land, to book-learning, and to reclaiming some of that childhood joy.

A return to my childhood with this spring's peas, blossoming as of a week ago.

It’s a short book, but we really only scratched the surface of things to discuss. You can read it in one sitting, so if you didn’t read along, what are you waiting for?

Now, because Stuart’s such a great reader, a bonus video! Here’s him reading a scene from Snowball:

In two weeks we’ll be back with some lighter fare for your next sun-baked read, Jennifer Close’s Girls in White Dresses.

I strolled in on a warm May evening around 9:00, and despite the hour, many quiet browsers still circulated through the store. There’s something extra special about a bookstore at night: it has a different ambiance altogether. It slips out of its daytime bustling and settles into a quiet, consistent hum, like that of the electric lights that draw in booklovers from the darkening streets with their glow. As I walked through the doors of this remarkable store, I couldn’t help but smile. At the end of a long day, even a new bookstore in a foreign city still feels like coming home.

I tried to capture some of the Strand’s immensity on film, so let’s go on a tour together, shall we?

As I mentioned in a post last week, I recently headed to NYC for Book Expo America, and as with all my travels, a little bookstore exploration is a must. This time I set my sights on the Strand, a family-run indie that’s been around since 1927 and claims to house 18 miles of new, used and rare books in their store. After paying them a visit, I must say that’s entirely possible.

I strolled in on a warm May evening around 9:00, and despite the hour, many quiet browsers still circulated through the store. There’s something extra special about a bookstore at night: it has a different ambiance altogether. It slips out of its daytime bustling and settles into a quiet, consistent hum, like that of the electric lights that draw in booklovers from the darkening streets with their glow. As I walked through the doors of this remarkable store, I couldn’t help but smile. At the end of a long day, even a new bookstore in a foreign city still feels like coming home.

I tried to capture some of the Strand’s immensity on film, so let’s go on a tour together, shall we?

Here’s a look at the front entrance, shot from the stairs going up to the second level:

In the bottom right hand corner you’ll see some t-shirts: the very Out of Print ones I’ve ogled online! I was thrilled to be able to take home this gorgeous Pride and Prejudice edition. I came close to buying one of the Strand’s special edition tote bags designed by artists like Canada’s own Seth, but had to give myself a serious talking-to. (On a return visit, I’m not sure I could manage such a feat of self-control again.)

Now if I turned the other direction, here’s more of the store below:

The Strand seems to mostly sell used books, which I quite like, though their tables feature a number of new books as well. The shelves are so high that the top shelves require ladders, and the browsing experience is a little like being in the stacks of a university library (minus the slightly musty smell). It could be slightly overwhelming, and it’s not the most browsable, but there are plenty of staff on hand to help you locate that elusive tome.

Here’s a ground level shot as I ventured into the fiction section (identified by the Moby-Dick on the signs).

First floor: going up?

Four floors! Marvellous, huh? I didn’t get a chance to have a peek at the third floor, I’m afraid, since the Rare Book room was closed, but that’s just an adventure for a future visit. The lower level has an excellent selection of remainders and brazenly identified review copies, as well as an assortment of non-fiction. Down in the land of non-fiction, I wanted to buy a science-y book for my boyfriend, and felt oddly out of my comfort zone. It was an interesting experience, because normally in a bookstore I feel pretty familiar with the offerings. But this time I felt like the average book buyer. Of course I was drawn to what was on the tables, and after considering a couple, great copy and and a solid author bio swayed me to David Quammen’s The Boilerplate Rhino (which has since gotten rave reviews from the boyfriend in question).

And so ends my tour. If you’d like to see more, check out the video tour on their website. Do you have a favourite NYC bookstore I should check out on my next visit?

]]> http://kirbc.com/2011/06/08/the-strand-bookstore-new-york-city/feed/ 1 http://kirbc.com/2011/06/02/books-in-140-seconds-stroll/ http://kirbc.com/2011/06/02/books-in-140-seconds-stroll/#comments Thu, 02 Jun 2011 17:58:26 +0000 JK http://kirbc.com/?p=3131 We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming for another edition of the brief book club bulletin that is Books in 140 Seconds. Last time Erin and I talked Jessica Grant’s Making Light of Tragedy, and this time we’re moving on to another accomplished collection: this time of walks around Toronto in Shawn Micallef’s Stroll. Here’s what we thought:

Our apologies to Shawn for mispronouncing his name — I heard it on Metro Morning the day after recorded this and realized we’d garbled it.

Not only is it a lovely time of year to go strolling, June also marks the return of the Stroll City project. @Reply your Toronto observations and experiences to @StrollCity, and they might just appear on TTC screens across the city. Here’s one of my recent faves:

Now don’t you want to hit the streets of T.O.? Our next Books in 140 Seconds will bring you another slice of Toronto, this one fictional, when we talk about Stuart Ross’s Snowball, Dragonfly, Jew. It’s a short one, so feel free to pick it up and read along. And if you need any encouragement to read it, head over to Bella’s Bookshelves to read Steph’s wonderful post about Stuart [...]]]> We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming for another edition of the brief book club bulletin that is Books in 140 Seconds. Last time Erin and I talked Jessica Grant’s Making Light of Tragedy, and this time we’re moving on to another accomplished collection: this time of walks around Toronto in Shawn Micallef’s Stroll. Here’s what we thought:

Our apologies to Shawn for mispronouncing his name — I heard it on Metro Morning the day after recorded this and realized we’d garbled it.

Not only is it a lovely time of year to go strolling, June also marks the return of the Stroll City project. @Reply your Toronto observations and experiences to @StrollCity, and they might just appear on TTC screens across the city. Here’s one of my recent faves:

Now don’t you want to hit the streets of T.O.? Our next Books in 140 Seconds will bring you another slice of Toronto, this one fictional, when we talk about Stuart Ross’s Snowball, Dragonfly, Jew. It’s a short one, so feel free to pick it up and read along. And if you need any encouragement to read it, head over to Bella’s Bookshelves to read Steph’s wonderful post about Stuart and the book.

But I also got some time to wander the floor now and again, which led to some great things. At the top of the list: An encounter with Tyra Banks herself when I eagerly got in line to get a signed sample chapter of the first book in her upcoming YA series, Modelland. Here’s the photo evidence:

Modelland presents a dystopian future with a modelling bent (as if the modelling industry wasn’t dystopian enough) and is sheer ridiculousness from start to finish, so naturally, I had a great time reading it. For those without this masterpiece in their hot little hands, a few examples of the aforementioned sheer ridiculousness:

I didn’t used to be a non-fiction reader, so even if you’re not, give it a try. This book could be your gateway drug. And as a PSA, if you don’t listen to This American Life already, get thee to a computer. You can subscribe for free on iTunes or listen on their website. The two seasons of the TV version are also very, very good. (But remember, Erin and I already called dibs on Ira.)

We’re back in two weeks with another great non-fiction book, more local this time, chatting about Shawn Micallef’s Stroll.

[P.S. I'm working on posts without videos, I swear. (Well, at least one.) Hang in there.]

I swear I had a different ending in mind, and got confused. That’s the one-take system for you folks. If you haven’t watched our video on Come, Thou Tortoise, you should do that too.

Next week we’ll be returning to the land of non-fiction, with no better guide than the Ira Glass in The New Kings of Non-Fiction. Stay tuned to when Books in 140 Seconds returns.

Our 2011 Keep Toronto Reading campaign came to a close on Saturday, marking the end of 35 days straight of video recos. This year we rounded up 44 different contributors, almost double last year’s number. We had authors, publishers, booksellers, bloggers from all over Canada and the U.S. handsell a book of their choice and share their own stories of transformation.

My sincere thanks to all the contributors, especially those first timers who had to get up the nerve to record and release a video of themselves. And the biggest thanks of all to the Toronto Public Library (and their fantastic ambassador Ab Velasco) for promoting and featuring the videos, and for adding reco’d books they didn’t have to the collection!

Are you reading any books based on a KIRBC KTR video? Leave a comment and let us know, and maybe we can keep the discussion going until next April.

David Burga (@davideburga) is a geologist and has travelled the world in search of gold, silver, copper and diamonds. His debut novel, The Devil’s Gold, is loosely based on his experiences in Mexico and is set to be released in the summer of 2011 by In Our Words.

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I’ll post a more thorough wrap-up of this year’s campaign on Monday, but for now let me say that I am so grateful to everyone who contributed this year, either by making a video or just be watching them. Thanks for making this year’s campaign even better than the last.

[Sarah's also reviewed The Carnivore on this blog! Check it.]

Sarah Labrie is the Marketing and Publicity Coordinator at Hachette Book Group, an executive member of the CanBPA, a KIRBC veteran and conspirator at the Keepin’ it Real Book Club blog.

Alison Pick is the author of two books of poetry and two novels, most recently FAR TO GO. It was the winner of the Canadian Jewish Book Award for Fiction, was a Top 10 Book of 2010 at NOW magazine and the Toronto Star, and was published in five countries. Alison Pick lives in Toronto where she is currently at work on a memoir.

Nic Boshart (@NicBoshart) is the Digital Services Manager for the Association of Canadian Publishers. He’s also co-founder and coordinating editor of the indie firm Invisible Publishing and an executive member of the CanBPA, a professional development and social group for publishers.

Bronwyn Kienapple is the Online Marketing Coordinator at Penguin Canada and has written for EYE Weekly and Canadian Notes and Queries. She’s often raving about books on Twitter as @B_Kienapple.

In Toronto and swayed by Shawn’s pitch? Head out to the launch of Pretty tonight from 8-11pm at Black Eagle, 457 Church Street.

Shawn Syms has completed a short-fiction collection, and recently started work on a novel. His fiction has appeared in The Journey Prize Stories 21, PRISM international and most recently on Joyland. His reviews, essays and other writing have appeared in 30 publications. He can also be found on Twitter as @shawnsyms.

[Uh, Brian, don't look now, but I think you're being haunted by a myopic ghost. Unless that's just your regular decor . . .]

Brian Francis‘s debut novel Fruit was a Canada Reads 2009 finalist. His second novel, Natural Order, will be published this fall.

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There are only six days left! This is the last call for alcohol videos! Email me if you’ve got one coming.

Crissy writes companion books to television shows and is the managing editor at ECW Press. She blogs erratically at crissycalhoun.com and tweets with more frequency @crissycalhoun.

Sean lives in Vancouver and works with the web. His book-related projects can be found at booksontheradio.ca, adventbookblog.com, bookcampvancouver.com and elsewhere. His semi-pro personal site can be found at seancranbury.com.

[For more on this book, check out my less yelly, regular review.]

Up next week: Books in 140 Seconds returns to Jessica Grant, this time with a discussion of her short story collection, Making Light of Tragedy. (If you’d like a reason to read along, check out my review and go pick it up!)

Nathan Maharaj is a bookseller living on the wrong side of the Don with his wife, son, and dog. Since 2009 he’s worked for the global e-bookseller Kobo, where his talent for accents has proven invaluable. Follow him on Twitter at @nrmaharaj.

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There’s still room for a few more videos! Don’t be shy. Get in touch.

Kerry Clare reads and writes in Toronto. Her essays and short fiction have appeared in a variety of wonderful places, and she writes book reviews for Quill & Quire. Since 2006, she has maintained the literary blog Pickle Me This, where she writes about books and reading.

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There’s still time to contribute! I’d like it very much if you did. Let me know.

Evan Munday is the publicist for Coach House Books. He is also the illustrator of the novel Stripmalling, written by Jon Paul Fiorentino (ECW 2009), and is the cartoonist responsible for the self-published comic book, Quarter-Life Crisis, set in a post-apocalyptic Toronto. In October 2011, ECW Press will publish his first kids’ novel, The Dead Kid Detective Agency. He lives in Toronto. Visit his site at idontlikemundays.com, or peruse his extremely pedestrian tweets at @idontlikemunday.

Julie Wilson is a professional publishing fan, writer and blogger. The literary voyeur behind the SeenReading.com and the editor of BookMadam.com, she thinks reading looks good on you. Follow Julie on Twitter: @BookMadam @SeenReading.

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Remember the book that transformed you? Make a video and we’ll feature it! Get in touch.

Caseen Gaines is a pop culture enthusiast who has won awards for essays on The Flip Wilson Show and the Planet of the Apes film series.  He is a high school English teacher and the co-founder of Hackensack Theatre Company, a non-profit in New Jersey.  His first book, Inside Pee-wee’s Playhouse: The Behind-the-Scenes Story of a Pop Phenomenon, will be released this September by ECW Press.

Kathleen Ferguson is in Grade 9 in an integrated arts high school program, majoring in vocal music and drama. Her other passions are books, fanfic, and tumblr. She volunteers annually in the children’s and YA areas at the Eden Mills Writers’ Festival and enjoys introducing the authors that read there. Last year Kathleen won a provincial writing award for a play written about bullying. These days she divides her time between choir and piano practice, writing and reading fanfic and poetry as BloodlustedInk on deviantArt and fanfiction.net and sharing her favourite things at http://thosewithoutsouls.tumblr.com/.

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It’s not too late to contribute (or to pressure your kids to!) Email me.

Clare Hitchens is the Young Adult Author Coordinator for the Eden Mills Writers’ Festival and a publicist for WLU Press. She tweets at @clarehitchens, @wlupress, and @emwf, and blogs about life, books, and music at clarehitchens.posterous.com. She also does social media marketing for The Registry Theatre, a Kitchener-Waterloo gem of a venue for the arts (@RegistryTheatre). Clare is the parent of four young adults ranging in age from 14 to 22, one of whom has Down syndrome, making advocacy an important part of her life. She loves when her worlds collide and she can indulge in all her passions.

Steven W. Beattie is the review editor at Quill & Quire. He administers the literary website That Shakespearean Rag.

Natalie St. Pierre is known variously as freelance editor, associate literary agent, and Civilians Read 2011 panelist. Her previous Keep Toronto Reading recommendations included Thomas Hardy’s Jude the Obscure, a book which did in fact change her life.

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There’s still time to make your own transformative pitch! Get in touch.

Angie Abdou lives in Fernie, B.C., where she teaches full-time at the College of the Rockies, raises two children, and in her spare time writes.  Her first novel, The Bone Cage, was finalist in Canada Reads 2011.  She has just released her second novel, The Canterbury Trail.

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All aboard! There are still spots left on the KTR Express! Email me.

Keep Toronto Reading 2011 – The Pets, by Bragi Ólafsson from August Bourre on Vimeo.

August C. Bourré is a freelance book critic who keeps a blog at www.vestige.org.

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There’s still vacancy at the Book Reco Inn! Get in touch to reserve your spot.

]]> We’ve hit the halfway point of our crusade to Keep Toronto Reading this April! It’s another double-video day, and we’re starting out this morning with a reco from incisive book critic August Bourré, who recommends Bragi Ólafsson’s The Pets:

Keep Toronto Reading 2011 – The Pets, by Bragi Ólafsson from August Bourre on Vimeo.

August C. Bourré is a freelance book critic who keeps a blog at www.vestige.org.

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There’s still vacancy at the Book Reco Inn! Get in touch to reserve your spot.

]]> http://kirbc.com/2011/04/13/ktr2011-august-bourre-recommends-the-pets/feed/ 0 http://kirbc.com/2011/04/12/ktr2011-matt-elliott-recommends-consider-the-lobster/ http://kirbc.com/2011/04/12/ktr2011-matt-elliott-recommends-consider-the-lobster/#comments Tue, 12 Apr 2011 14:30:21 +0000 JK http://kirbc.com/?p=2972 It’s Day 16 of our Keep Toronto Reading book bonanza! When Matt Elliott submitted his video, he said he was gunning for the top 5. I think he succeeded with his reco for essay collection Consider the Lobster by David Foster Wallace:

Matt Elliott spends his days reading email and posting things on his Twitter account. He recently launched a political blog, Ford For Toronto, which serves as a long-shot effort to make sense of the City of Toronto under Mayor Rob Ford. Learn more at mattelliott.ca.

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Try to outdo Matt and oust him from his cushy top 5 position. Make a video.

Kat Kruger is a blogger, social media & online community manager and aspiring YA author. She’s just finished her first YA novel about teen angst, mad science, and werewolves.

(I hear you, Robin. Introverts Unite! Or at least consider it quietly.)

Robin Spano is a crime writer. She’s currently having a lot of fun creating and writing the Clare Vengel Undercover series, combining elements of her two childhood favorites, Charlie’s Angels and Nancy Drew, and bringing a modern day edge to them. She also loves adventure in real life: she lives in Vancouver, where she loves to explore her natural surroundings by boat, snowboard, and motorcycle. For more info, check out her website at http://www.robinspano.com

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It’s not too late to check your inner introvert and make a video. I promise it’s less painful than karaoke. Email me.

Laura Godfrey is the Associate Director at Bookclub-in-a-Box, where she researches and edits discussion guides based on popular novels, and maintains the blog and social media, among other things. She is also a freelance writer for Quill & Quire and a diligent copy editor for Torontoist. You can find her in the Twittersphere @laura_godfrey and @bookclubinabox.

It’s not too late to have your face featured here! Just drop me an email.

Erin Creasey spends a lot of time talking about books, most often professionally and sometimes just for fun. She works in sales and marketing at ECW Press, is a teacher at Ryerson University’s book publishing program, and is involved in a few other book industry pursuits beyond that. She can be found tweeting extremely occasionally @erincc.

[The man on the street element of that video made me laugh out loud the first time I watched it. Another fine production, Lilla!]

Lilla Csorgo is a playwright, author and economist represented by HSW Literary Agency. Her plays include Babes on Bay Street first produced at Toronto’s renowned Theatre Passe Muraille in 1999.  She wrote Bangkok, which was featured at RAW, a distinguished New York reading series, the National Arts Centre’s On the Verge Festival, and the Toronto Fringe Festival, as well as being workshopped at the Banff playRites Colony. The Bigger World was a finalist in the National Playwriting Competition and was part of Nightwood Theatre’s Groundswell Festival. Her novels on offer are The Janus Affair and Tumbling After.

Stay tuned next week when we return to one of our two favourite topics (generally known as A & A — Adventuring and Apocalypses) with a discussion of the wonderful insanity that is James Tabor’s Blind Descent.

Niki Chaplin is an associate editor at Dundurn Press where she edits everything from YA fiction to business books. She has an MA in 20th Century Literature from the University of London. Niki studied poetry, primarily, but will devour a novel in a week. She’s currently working on a semi-secret project about ways to make literature more mobile. Follow her on twitter @NikiChaplin.

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Contributions still welcome. No invite required! Just get in touch.

[It's a book I really liked too, and one that's stayed with me: you can read my review here.]

Allison Baggio is a graduate of the Humber School for Writers. Her  fiction and commentaries have appeared in publications all across Canada, including Room magazine, subTerrain, Today’s Parent, and the Toronto Star. Her novel Girl in Shades will be published by ECW Press in October 2011.

Steph VanderMeulen is a book aficionado and enthusiastic supporter of publishers, authors, and indie bookshops. Steph is the author of the blog Bella’s Bookshelves, and is the social media chick for Greenley’s Bookstore in Belleville.

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Want to be a part of this video happening? There’s still time! Inquire within.

(You had me at “It’s like The Time Traveler’s Wife,” Mark)

Mark Leslie Lefebvre is a writer, bookseller and self-professed book nerd.  You can find him online at http://markleslie.blogspot.com where he regularly posts about writing, bookselling and fatherhood and shamelessly promotes his writing projects (such as the story collection ONE HAND SCREAMING, the anthologies he has edited — NORTH OF INFINITY II and CAMPUS CHILLS and his forthcoming novel I, DEATH). He can also be found on twitter (@MarkLeslie) as well as wandering, awestruck through bookstores and libraries, which he is drawn to like a moth to a bright light.

Julia Horel-O’Brien is the general manager of LitDistCo and the web co-director: blog and community manager at Shameless magazine, where she blogs about feminism and size acceptance. She can be found tweeting @julialikesbooks and @ShamelessMag.

Jessica Westhead’s fiction has appeared in literary magazines including The New Quarterly, Geist, and Indiana Review. She was shortlisted for the 2009 CBC Literary Awards, and her first novel, Pulpy & Midge (Coach House Books), was nominated for the ReLit Award. Her new short story collection, And Also Sharks, has just been published by Cormorant Books, and she is excited to proclaim 2011 to be YOSS (Year Of the Short Story)!

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There’s still space left on the KIRBC reco train! Drop me an email if you’re interested!

As a child, Holly Kent was reprimanded for keeping her head buried in a book while wandering around Death Valley, California. She put the book away, avoided being bitten by a Rattle Snake, and is now the Sales and Marketing Manager at the Canadian Children`s Book Centre. You can usually find her drinking coffee and walking very quickly around Toronto, and you can also find her on Twitter in a personal capacity (@hollykent) and a professional one (@kidsbookcentre).

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Thanks, Holly! It’s not too late to get in on this sweet reco action. Email me!

Julie Judkins is a Digital Librarian at the University of Michigan. She’s currently collaborating on a digital encyclopedia about the American Influenza Epidemic of 1918. Julie writes about literature and the library profession on her blog, Klickitat, and tweets @thatklickitat.

Still want to contribute? It’s not too late. Get in touch.

Richard Crouse is the regular film critic for CTV’s Canada AM and the 24 hour news source CTV’s News Channel. He was the host of Reel to Real, Canada’s longest running television show about movies, from 1998 to 2008 and is a frequent guest on many national Canadian radio and television shows. His syndicated Saturday afternoon radio show, At the Movies, originates on News Talk 1010 in Toronto. He is also the author of six books on pop culture history including Who Wrote the Book of Love, the best-selling The 100 Best Movies You’ve Never Seen and its sequel Son of the [...]]]> We’ve come to Day 4 of our month-long book reco-party in support of Keep Toronto Reading, and the recos keep rolling in. Today I bring you Richard Crouse, a man who knows a lot about books and film, so really he was the perfect person to contribute to this campaign (and he and Terry Fallis are neck and neck for the best radio voice on this site). Richard took some time out of his busy schedule to recommend Hunter S. Thompson’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas:

Richard Crouse is the regular film critic for CTV’s Canada AM and the 24 hour news source CTV’s News Channel. He was the host of Reel to Real, Canada’s longest running television show about movies, from 1998 to 2008 and is a frequent guest on many national Canadian radio and television shows. His syndicated Saturday afternoon radio show, At the Movies, originates on News Talk 1010 in Toronto. He is also the author of six books on pop culture history including Who Wrote the Book of Love, the best-selling The 100 Best Movies You’ve Never Seen and its sequel Son of the 100 Best Movies You’ve Never Seen and writes a weekly column for Metro newspaper.

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Want to contribute? It’s not too late! Just let me know.

Charlotte Ashley is a Toronto bookseller who works out of the Bob Miller Book Room.  She blogs at http://charlotteashley.wordpress.com and in 2009 won the inaugural National Book Collecting Contest.  When she’s not obsessing over books, she’s knitting, gaming, and trying to raise smaller readers to some day take her place.

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Show us a little bit of your gentle madness with a video book reco! Email me for info.

Despite an engineering degree, for more than 25 years Terry Fallis has enjoyed a successful career first in politics, and then in public affairs and public relations consulting. But through it all, there was something missing. In 2005, he found it when he finally wrote the novel that had been rattling around inside his head. He spent a year peddling the manuscript to agents and publishers but was greeted with a deafening silence. Undeterred, he podcast The Best Laid Plans, his debut satirical novel of Canadian politics, chapter-by-chapter, gathering rave reviews from legions of listeners in Canada and around the world. Encouraged by the response, he self-published the novel in September 2007.

Then, in April 2008 came the shock of his life. The Best Laid Plans won the 2008 Stephen Leacock Medal for Humour, [...]]]> We’re on Day 2 of our campaign to help Keep Toronto Reading, and today we’ve brought in the big guns . . . this year’s Canada Reads champ, Terry Fallis. You may have heard his podcasts, you might have read his books, but now, at the very least, watch him on video, as he recommends Three Cheers for Me by Donald Jack.

Despite an engineering degree, for more than 25 years Terry Fallis has enjoyed a successful career first in politics, and then in public affairs and public relations consulting. But through it all, there was something missing. In 2005, he found it when he finally wrote the novel that had been rattling around inside his head. He spent a year peddling the manuscript to agents and publishers but was greeted with a deafening silence. Undeterred, he podcast The Best Laid Plans, his debut satirical novel of Canadian politics, chapter-by-chapter, gathering rave reviews from legions of listeners in Canada and around the world. Encouraged by the response, he self-published the novel in September 2007.

Then, in April 2008 came the shock of his life. The Best Laid Plans won the 2008 Stephen Leacock Medal for Humour, the first self-published novel ever honoured with this venerable literary award.  Within a week, Fallis signed on with a literary agent and landed a publishing deal with McClelland & Stewart. In the fall of 2008, the M&S edition of the novel hit bookstore shelves.  M&S also published the sequel, The High Road, in September 2010. In February 2011, The Best Laid Plans was crowned the winner of CBC’s Canada Reads 2011 as the “essential Canadian novel of the last decade.”

He blogs at www.terryfallis.com and can be reached at fallis@thornleyfallis.com.

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Thanks for the reco, Terry! It’s almost as easy as he makes it look — you can do it too! Send me an email to get involved.

Erin Balser is is a freelance writer and editor, currently roaming the halls at CBC as an associate producer for Canada Reads and the CBC Book Club. When she’s not stalking CBC personalities, you can find her Twittering at @booksin140 or writing about Glee somewhere online. Her first book, Don’t Stop Believin’: The Unofficial Guide to Glee was published by ECW Press in September 2010.

Want to get in on this sweet reco action? It’s not too late! Email me!

Today Erin and I will kick things off (independently, though that frame feels so empty and lonesome now), and then we’ll start airing the recos of our guest stars every day until the end of April. We’ve already got quite a few videos lined up, but if you’d like to contribute, we’d love to have you! No need to live in Rob Ford’s fiefdom — anyone from anywhere can recommend any book. Just drop me a line to let me [...]]]> Keep Toronto Reading is back for 2011, and since we love the library and Toronto and book recommendations and other people getting on video besides Erin and me, the KIRBC has once again recruited volunteers to join in the effort to connect Torontonians with books they love. This year the campaign’s theme is “Let Books Transform You,” so you may get some Oprah moments along with the regular recos. After last year’s 30-day video party, we’ve cast our net wider and pulled in some great authors, booklovers, publishers and the like, and we’re bringing you more videos that ever. As an added bonus, the TPL has agreed to try to add any recos they don’t have to their already impressive collection.

Today Erin and I will kick things off (independently, though that frame feels so empty and lonesome now), and then we’ll start airing the recos of our guest stars every day until the end of April. We’ve already got quite a few videos lined up, but if you’d like to contribute, we’d love to have you! No need to live in Rob Ford’s fiefdom — anyone from anywhere can recommend any book. Just drop me a line to let me know you’re interested and I’ll provide the details!

So to kick things off, here’s my reco for a transformative book, Gayla Trail’s Grow Great Grub:

(For more on Grow Great Grub and for photos of my modest first year accomplishments, check out my review.)

And time for a little third-person action:

Jen Knoch is the president of the Keepin’ It Real Book Club, and the principal blogger on this site. By day, you can find her working as an Associate Editor at ECW Press, and by night she runs Books in 140 Seconds with Erin Balser and ropes people into schemes just like this one.

Before we sign off for the day, a quick point to my friend Julie, who is also reading The Waterproof Bible, and had a little fun taking it out on a rainy day . . .

Up next fortnight: Erin and I pair a local wine with a discussion of The 100-Mile Diet.

They also run a pretty fine marketing campaign, and this year their Keep Toronto Reading campaign is back. It’s a multi-faceted campaign that combines extra author events, a city-wide book club (this year reading Judy Fong Bates’s Midnight at the Dragon Cafe), and a book recommending network that includes travelling journals, twitter recos, and YouTube recommendations. This year they’ve got a new theme, and they want recos for a book that transformed you in some way.

Since book recommending (especially on video) is kind of our bag, I thought we could help them out last [...]]]> I love the Toronto library. I do. We’ve been going steady about three years now, and if I still doodled in notebooks, you might see JK + TPL in the margins. We have a great relationship, after all. With 99 branches, it’s always there when I need it. I ask for things, and like a generous lover, it grants them. It surprises me with special treats, like free AGO passes and visits from marquee authors (last year’s Rushdie event was a gold star occasion). But before I get all couch-jumpy Tom Cruise on you, suffice to say, the TPL is one of this city’s great treasures.

They also run a pretty fine marketing campaign, and this year their Keep Toronto Reading campaign is back. It’s a multi-faceted campaign that combines extra author events, a city-wide book club (this year reading Judy Fong Bates’s Midnight at the Dragon Cafe), and a book recommending network that includes travelling journals, twitter recos, and YouTube recommendations. This year they’ve got a new theme, and they want recos for a book that transformed you in some way.

Since book recommending (especially on video) is kind of our bag, I thought we could help them out last year and we rounded up 25 book lovers to put themselves on camera and convince us to read a book they love. This year we’re doing it again, and we’re aiming higher — more people, more videos, and more great recos, starting March 28th. We’re inviting authors, bloggers, booksellers, librarians, publishing folk and all the book lovers we can peer pressure to join in the book party. Videos will appear here daily, as well as on the TPL website. As an added bonus this year, our friends at the TPL have agreed to do their best to acquire all the KIRBC-recommended books so that legions of Torontonians can have access to these fine reading materials.

Now, in order for this campaign to be a success, we need your videos! They only have to be around a minute long, and you don’t have to be a pro. Just tell us about your book, why you loved it, and if applicable, how it transformed you. (And no, you all can’t recommend Eat, Pray, Love.) For more details about submitting, drop me an email. And if nothing else, come back in April and watch the recos, because it’ll be like a KIRBC meeting all month long!

Now to get you inspired, we’ll finish with my favourite video last year, from the hilarious Evan Munday:

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. [...]]]> 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. They’re a group of outsiders longing for connection, but often a little bit afraid of it, finding safety in their routines and refuges. They are so vulnerable (whether they’ll admit it or not) that their acts of courage, of striking out in some way, are all the more admirable.

For one of the overarching feeling of these stories is a sense of anxiety, one that is often featureless, lurking like an oil tanker on the ocean floor, an environmental disaster just a leak away, as in “There I Am.”  In another story, a character admits, “She is worried and can’t pinpoint the cause. It’s like going upstairs for something with your coat on, something you mustn’t leave the house without, only to stand still, unsure which room to go into, unsure what you need, only knowing you need it.”

Such anxiety could be oppressive, but is tempered by Grant’s particular tongue-in-cheek humour — the kind that doesn’t make you laugh, but is sure to make you smile on the bus, like you have a secret no one else knows. No doubt Grant’s characters would approve. The collection also slips in a couple of surprisingly heartwarming charmers, like ” Taxation,” in which we get the triumph of a clueless lovelorn roofer, much to the surprise of the reader, and our smug narrator.

Not every story hit the mark for me, but each contains enough clever observations and surprising imagery to make them worthwhile. And my favourite stories, “My Husband’s Jump,” “Plow Man,” “The Loss of Thalia,” “Taxation,” and “Milaken,” lifted me high as that gravity-defying sky jumper, making me hope, that like him, I’d never come down.

These are stories that balance precariously between realism and fancy, faith and anxiety, toughness and tenderness. They walk on the borders of society like a tightrope walker (complete with little umbrella). They’re unusual and slightly awe-inspiring and you can’t take your eyes off them. As a reader, you are both excited and afraid, thinking, Don’t fall. Hang on.

Even if you don’t like football or Texas, Fridays or lights, pick up this book. And watch the TV show for one of the most well-written, compelling dramas on television.

We’ll be back in a fortnight with another lightning round review, this time of Andrew Kaufman’s The Waterproof Bible, so come on back, y’all.

We’re back on our regular Books in 140 Seconds schedule, so come back in two weeks as Erin and I rave about Friday Night Lights in a post-meeting (and post-wine consumption) recap of our reco from the most recent meeting.

JK + Erin – Friday Night Lights, Henry Bissinger

Today was the final day of Canada Reads 2011, and rather than follow the format of the last couple days and focus on this specific episode, I think some more general comments are in order. Because you see, I’m feeling a bit despondent. There’s been a lot of talk in the blogosphere from people I really respect about why they’re giving up on Canada Reads, and I’m sad to see it, because their contributions are part of  what makes me look forward to the competition. This year might not have been the best Canada Reads to date, but I think the real problem is that we all have different expectations of Canada Reads, and it can’t be everything to everyone. So what is it? And what should it be?

First: Audience. This year’s panelists were very focused on getting people reading — namely reluctant readers whose relationship with the written word is so fragile one bad book might make them stop reading street signs, let alone books. Melodramatic, yes, but is it possible this is the show’s primary audience? Charlotte Ashley says no, saying Canada Reads is a national book club, one that should be targeted to people who are readers [...]]]>

Today was the final day of Canada Reads 2011, and rather than follow the format of the last couple days and focus on this specific episode, I think some more general comments are in order. Because you see, I’m feeling a bit despondent. There’s been a lot of talk in the blogosphere from people I really respect about why they’re giving up on Canada Reads, and I’m sad to see it, because their contributions are part of  what makes me look forward to the competition. This year might not have been the best Canada Reads to date, but I think the real problem is that we all have different expectations of Canada Reads, and it can’t be everything to everyone. So what is it? And what should it be?

First: Audience. This year’s panelists were very focused on getting people reading — namely reluctant readers whose relationship with the written word is so fragile one bad book might make them stop reading street signs, let alone books. Melodramatic, yes, but is it possible this is the show’s primary audience? Charlotte Ashley says no, saying Canada Reads is a national book club, one that should be targeted to people who are readers already, and it’s a fair point — I certainly fall into that group. Or maybe CR is for casual readers — and this seems most likely — people who read a few books a year. I’d think the audience is average to avid readers mostly. If you pick up some reluctant ones along the way, that’s great too. But the people who are going to be listening to the debates, participating in the online chat and so on, aren’t going to be people who are extremely book-shy.

Which brings up my second point: Objective. What’s the point of all this? Is it, as the panelists so frequently spouted, to bolster literacy, to get people reading who wouldn’t otherwise? Not if that’s not the target demographic, and I don’t think it is. So then what? To solve the shortage of medical professionals in the country or to fix democracy? Hardly. But how about to get people reading together? To generate discussion (in the debates and outside of them)? Even Debbie Travis, an uneven panelist at best, hit the mark today: Canada Reads is about getting people reading and talking.

But this year, many have noted that the in-studio discussion came up short. (And for the record, I generally agree with them in terms of quality and quantity — we had an extra half an hour of programming and it seemed less focused discussion than ever.) So what determines the discussion? Well, in part it depends on the books that are selected, and this year, the selection was limited to 10 books, starting the panelists off with a bit of a handicap. And the discussion mostly depends on the panelists — their commitment and their own abilities. When I started listening in 2009, there were four very accomplished panelists who could easily compensate for the hyperbolic idiot in their midst. It was those panelists that made me feel the CR magic.

This year, with the exception of the thoughtful Sara Quin, our panelists, though animated, were not as sharp, and consequently, neither was the discussion. (Charlotte said it well, calling them “entertainers down to a man.”) But does that mean the competition itself is flawed? I don’t think so.

The reality show format has its critics, to be sure, and I understand their point of view. Steph asserts it’s not intellectual enough, wanting a straight-up debate, with no Survivor eliminations and more academic cred. And that’s admirable. But I don’t think most Canadian readers really want to listen to my grad school seminar discussion (a lot of the time I didn’t even want to listen to it). And while the drama can impede the discussion by eating up valuable time or forcing a vote early in the game, I think there’s no doubt that those flourishes are part of makes people who aren’t die-hard bookies want to listen. In a very balanced, carefully reasoned post, John Mutford points out it isn’t Survivor or the Giller debates — it’s somewhere in the middle. In any case, whatever Mark Burnett or the cast of Jersey Shore might have shown us, I don’t think that injecting some theatricality precludes intelligence or substance.

In fact, I know it doesn’t, because two years in a row I’ve taken the Canada Reads template and switched out the celebs for smart, bookish people. And with similar questions, time constraints, and rules, I think we’ve had stimulating, perceptive, and still entertaining debates. One of the big issues of this competition has been accessibility, and whether a book (or a debate!) being accessible means it has to be dumbed down. And I think Civilians Read proves that isn’t true. I’d like to think this blog proves that isn’t true, considering that’s been my mission statement all along.

In short, don’t hate the game, hate the player.

But really, don’t even hate them. I think it’s hard to be a panelist. It’s not just the quick thinking and being scrutinized by thousands of people, but, as Sara mentioned today, it’s hard to be the bad guy. (Debbie called herself the Simon Cowell after day 2.) And the game can always benefit from some constructive criticism. Some of my top wishes? Let’s bring back some people with literary cred. The objective isn’t to make the discussion esoteric, but I think it’s better to be a bit more intellectually ambitious, especially given the CBC listening demographic. Another big one for me: More questions, less filler. You can cram a lot of debate into half an hour if you dispense with some frippery. (Again, we Civilians covered double the questions the actual show did.)

This might not have been a banner year for discussion, but a lot of good things still came out of it:

• The passionate surge of support for the graphic novel and the debate about the form was nothing short of wonderful, and I think one of this year’s lasting contributions.
• The willingness of the CBC to let the populace into the studio, both physically (with an audience) and over the web with extra broadcasts and live chats, and also their willingness to try new things. It might not all work out, but I appreciate their openness to new approaches.
• The unprecedented involvement of authors, which, as Kerry Clare rightly points out, went a bit too far, but did give readers access to authors in a way they might not have otherwise and added additional insight and perspective.

So I will keep supporting Canada Reads. Quite happily, really. Not blindly, because I think our criticism and continued engagement can bring it closer to the show we think it should be. But I still think Canada Reads is a great achievement. It gets people excited about reading, and even if the discussion isn’t honours-level, perhaps it’s more than a lot of people normally talk about books, and while I hope that the discussion can be nudged toward the more analytical, hearing someone passionately endorse a book based on emotional reaction alone is still a great thing. Canada Reads supports authors, booksellers and publishers. It gives reading its time to shine. But mostly because for all our talk about how diverse and undefinable Canadians are as a group, this is something that brings us together in the name of something I hold very dear. So I’ll be listening next year, and I do hope you’ll join me.

Sorry for the late post, readers. Attending the debates live plus a busy workday means I’m not quite as quick off the mark as I used to be. Anywho, we’ve reached Day 2 of the Canada Reads debates. Yesterday Julie and I caught the show live (and posted our thoughts on the day’s goings-on) and today we headed back to the studio, where we reassumed our positions over Jian’s right shoulder. Sadly, America has now reclaimed my temporary blogging ally, but Julie’s added in her insights via email. Here’s what I thought of day 2:

The Good:

Hey remember Canada Reads? It’s that competition that comes after Civilians Read. And today my favourite librarian, Julie (an American more Canadian than many Canadians) attended the live taping. (You can see us here, right over Jian’s right shoulder.) Since I couldn’t be blogging away in studio, Julie and have assembled a few thoughts on today’s goings on.

The Good:

Welcome to the fifth and final day of our 2011 Civilians Read competition. Yesterday we sunk our teeth into structure, setting, and Nic Boshart when he called The Birth House chick lit. In today’s final day of debate, we’ll discuss books as literary ambassadors, advancing Canadian literature, and endings. You’ll also find a digression on superhero mythology, Natalie and Nic arguing over which Rocky-Apollo fight this just might be, and Ron making a heartfelt little speech that made us all get a bit misty. And at the end of it all, we’ll also pick the book we think all of Canada (and its many civilians) should read. What will that title be? Have a listen:

Author insert a music with WS Audio Player.(Download) this music.

And after all is said and done, there were still a few things left to be said, so here’s the last confessional video:

[Spoiler Alert! Don't cheat and watch the confessional before the show or kittens might die. Or you'll just feel like they did.]

[Note @BookMadam and @DavidSWard, in video that didn't make it to air, both of you got shout outs as potentials to be Clubber in the publishing Rocky III remake]

You may have noticed [...]]]>

Welcome to the fifth and final day of our 2011 Civilians Read competition. Yesterday we sunk our teeth into structure, setting, and Nic Boshart when he called The Birth House chick lit. In today’s final day of debate, we’ll discuss books as literary ambassadors, advancing Canadian literature, and endings. You’ll also find a digression on superhero mythology, Natalie and Nic arguing over which Rocky-Apollo fight this just might be, and Ron making a heartfelt little speech that made us all get a bit misty. And at the end of it all, we’ll also pick the book we think all of Canada (and its many civilians) should read. What will that title be? Have a listen:

Author insert a music with WS Audio Player.
(Download) this music.

And after all is said and done, there were still a few things left to be said, so here’s the last confessional video:

[Spoiler Alert! Don't cheat and watch the confessional before the show or kittens might die. Or you'll just feel like they did.]

[Note @BookMadam and @DavidSWard, in video that didn't make it to air, both of you got shout outs as potentials to be Clubber in the publishing Rocky III remake]

You may have noticed that in all the excitement I forgot to reveal the secret predictions our panelists made before the first episode. Here’s who Civilians thought would come out on top:

3 Birth House, 1 Bone Cage, 1 Unless

So I guess we’re all losers in the end.

But we’re cute ones, so here’s a few last photos! Noteworthy in this group: the fire in Natalie’s eyes as she passionately expostulates on something, and my fave, the blurry photo where it’s clear someone has gotten in a really good burn.

Well that’s it for this year, friends! A big thank you to the Civilians for their hard work, dedication and for making a big project a fun one, and thanks to everyone who took the time to listen to our rough-and-tumble broadcast.

If you find yourself with the shakes next Monday morning around 11:00 a.m., itching to hear Natalie passionately dissect a novel or Nic drop some “truth bombs,” there’s always last year’s Civilians Read competition, which is still available for listening or for download. There’s also the real Canada Reads for the listening, running Monday to Wednesday or next week. You should definitely listen to that, just so you can tell us we were better. (We like that.)

My usual Canada Reads posting will be a bit disrupted, since I’ll be in the audience the first two days! I’ll try and get some notes up later in the day though, so be sure to come round to talk about the latest CR action!

Welcome back to Day 4 of the Keepin’ It Real Book Club’s 2011 Civilians Read competition. Yesterday we discussed which books were the most thought-provoking and which had the most emotional impact. Today we sink our teeth into structure, setting, and timeliness or timelessness, and a few minutes in, Nic drops the “Chick Lit” bomb, so put on your crash gear, folks.

Listen in:

Author insert a music with WS Audio Player.(Download) this music.

Then it’s back to the confessional, where people are starting to make predictions about which book will go all the way:

And some more in-studio action (be sure to note the writing on Nic’s mug):

There’s only one day left, so come back tomorrow for our thrilling conclusion!

Welcome back to the 2011 edition of Civilians Read, the only time of year when KIRBCers actually read the same books and discuss them. Yesterday we tackled format and gender and took our first elimination vote. Today we’ll unveil the results of that vote and talk about which books appealed to our panelist’s brains and made their hearts grow three sizes, who would be the best midwife, and the day Ron was a Scottish parliamentarian. Check it out:

Author insert a music with WS Audio Player.(Download) this music.

Then it was back to the closet, for apologies, rants and sweet, sweet revenge:

And lastly a few other shenanigans and goings-on:

We’re over halfway there and the Civilians Read train is still barelling along. Come back tomorrow to find out who’s reached their final destination (or is tied to the tracks).

Annnd we’re back with Day 2 of Civilians Read. In yesterday’s episode, our panelists gave us an introduction to their books, and while they may have exchanged a few shots and taken some names, no one was voted off just yet.

In today’s episode, we  go deep into the Essex County debate, talk about men reading books focused on women, Nic declares that literary discussion needs more colour men, we create a Civilians Read drinking game, and more shenanigans ensue (whether or not Ron identifies them as such).

Have a listen:

Author insert a music with WS Audio Player.(Download) this music.

[Running Time: 30:10]

And now to the closet to see where things really sit at the end of Day 2:

And lastly, a few more stills of the goings-on in Nic’s living room studio:

Join in the debates here or on twitter (#CiviliansRead) and come on back tomorrow as the discussion continues and we find out which book is going down first.

The 332 day countdown is over and the big day is here: the return of Civilians Read, your favourite knock-off since PC’s Blue Menu. This year, we’re continuing our assessment of the panelist x-factor as we see how five literary-types change the conversation. For the 2011 debates, we’ve brought back four of our intrepid panelists and one fresh-faced innocent to debate which title should be the one all of Canada should read.

Before we got started this year, in the proud tradition of last year’s bathroom confessional, we had our panelists enter the closet confessional (yes, our panelists go into the closet to reveal their secrets) and give us a preview of what’s to come.

Now to move on to the main event. This episode our panelists will give us one 1-minute pitches for their title and the first shots are taken at disliked books. We also talk about what makes a novel “essential,” hilarious Kate Beaton comics, namby-pamby narrators and Brent Butt. Have a listen:

Author insert a music with WS Audio Player.(Download) this music. [Running time: 24:51]

You can also scope out our state of the art studio with some behind-the-scenes Day 1 photos:

After the first show, [...]]]>

The 332 day countdown is over and the big day is here: the return of Civilians Read, your favourite knock-off since PC’s Blue Menu. This year, we’re continuing our assessment of the panelist x-factor as we see how five literary-types change the conversation. For the 2011 debates, we’ve brought back four of our intrepid panelists and one fresh-faced innocent to debate which title should be the one all of Canada should read.

Before we got started this year, in the proud tradition of last year’s bathroom confessional, we had our panelists enter the closet confessional (yes, our panelists go into the closet to reveal their secrets) and give us a preview of what’s to come.

Now to move on to the main event. This episode our panelists will give us one 1-minute pitches for their title and the first shots are taken at disliked books. We also talk about what makes a novel “essential,” hilarious Kate Beaton comics, namby-pamby narrators and Brent Butt. Have a listen:

Author insert a music with WS Audio Player.
(Download) this music.
[Running time: 24:51]

You can also scope out our state of the art studio with some behind-the-scenes Day 1 photos:

After the first show, our panelists headed back to the closet to let us know how day 1 went:

Day 1 is over, but the debate has just begun. Since this is a competition by civilians for civilians, we’d love you to weigh in. Feel free to make like a panelist and answer any of the questions we cover over the course of a show, argue or agree with us, or just take pot-shots (then you’re really a part of the group!)

Come on back tomorrow as the Civilians vote the first title off the island (or at least use for kindling).

— Oxford English Dictionary

“A life is full of isolated events, but these events, if they are to form a coherent narrative, require odd pieces of language to cement them together, little chips of grammar (mostly adverbs or prepositions) that are hard to define, since they are abstractions of location or relative position, words like therefore, else, other, also, thereof, theretofore, instead, otherwise, despite, already, and not yet.”

— Carol Shields, Unless

When Carol Shields’ Unless was selected for this year’s Canada Reads competition, I was quite pleased. It was book I remembered liking, and its secret revelation, which makes your stomach drop as the pieces click together, stayed with me. But on re-reading it almost a decade later, with the novel’s central mystery set aside, I was able to focus on other aspects of the novel: its politics, its fragility, and especially those beautiful adverbs, prepositions, and conjunctions that start each chapter.

For what a gorgeous metaphor for voicelessness, for marginalization, using these connecting words and these modifiers that have [...]]]> adverb
noun Grammar
a word or phrase that modifies or qualifies an adjective, verb, or other adverb or a word-group, expressing a relation of place, time, circumstance, manner, cause, degree, etc. (e.g., gently, quite, then, there).

— Oxford English Dictionary

“A life is full of isolated events, but these events, if they are to form a coherent narrative, require odd pieces of language to cement them together, little chips of grammar (mostly adverbs or prepositions) that are hard to define, since they are abstractions of location or relative position, words like therefore, else, other, also, thereof, theretofore, instead, otherwise, despite, already, and not yet.”

— Carol Shields, Unless

When Carol Shields’ Unless was selected for this year’s Canada Reads competition, I was quite pleased. It was book I remembered liking, and its secret revelation, which makes your stomach drop as the pieces click together, stayed with me. But on re-reading it almost a decade later, with the novel’s central mystery set aside, I was able to focus on other aspects of the novel: its politics, its fragility, and especially those beautiful adverbs, prepositions, and conjunctions that start each chapter.

For what a gorgeous metaphor for voicelessness, for marginalization, using these connecting words and these modifiers that have meaning only in relation to other words, that sit quietly in the periphery of phrases and clauses, holding them together, enhancing, clarifying, solidifying, but lacking the energy of verbs or the concreteness of nouns, the smug satisfaction of carrying a manifest meaning all their own.

And this is a story observed from the sidelines, from a place of powerlessness, as Reta Winters, mother, successful translator and writer, must watch her daughter Norah’s self-imposed exile into homelessness and a silent street corner vigil, with only one word of explanation: a cardboard sign bearing the word “GOODNESS.”

The situation with Norah has given Reta cause to ponder many of the inequities and imbalances she has long observed. Though she is a child of the sixties and saw great feminist achievements take place, though she translates the works of a feminist writer and scholar, she is aware that there is still much that is inaccessible to her, and to her daughter as well. She knows women are “dismissed and excluded from the most primary of entitlements,” and explains “Not one of us was going to get what we wanted. I had suspected this for years, and now I believe that Norah knows the big female secret of wanting and not getting.”

As Reta attempts to write a sequel to her first “fluffy” romantic novel, she struggles with its direction, with the desires of her female protagonist, with the tone of the novel. And as she tries to find what may be a new voice for Alicia, she is incidentally trying to find her own. She does so in the novel itself, in which she is the prime mover, who may control the narrative, plot and rewrite as she sees fit (despite the meddling of an overbearing male editor, who tries to refocus the story on the male hero). She does so with angry letters to authors and editors, correcting the omissions and assumptions that have elided women from their narratives and publications. It is noteworthy that she does not send these letters, or even sign her real name, until the end of the, when she is a little closer to understanding Reta Winters, and to speaking for her with the expectation that someone might listen.

Nowhere is the power of writing, of using one’s voice more evident, or in my opinion, more touching than when Reta is moved to scrawl  “My heart is broken” anonymously on a bar bathroom stall chalkboard. She explains, “I believed at that instant in my own gusto, that I’d set down words of revealing truth, inscribing the most private and alarming of visions instead of the whining, melodramatic scrawl it really was, and that this unscrolling of sorrow in a toilet cubicle had all along been my most deeply held ambition.”

Though on the second page, Reta dismisses the well-intentioned friends who reassure, “But you have your writing, Reta.” For her writing will not get her daughter off the corner of Bloor and Bathurst. But what Reta starts to realize is that writing may be a way to address the larger problems that have exiled her daughter to her hopeless state.

The ability to speak out is not to be underestimated, as in Reta’s family many women have surrendered themselves to silence: Her mother-in-law, Lois, who resigns herself to watching religiously the world’s events play out on the nightly news and baking for her family. Her daughter Norah, who has given up all words but the one on her sign. They are barred from fully participating in society, faced with “a withholding universe,” that does not meet their needs, but perhaps doesn’t even know them. In a sentence that beautifully conjures up Norah’s outstretched hands, Reta writes, “We are too kind, too willing – too unwilling too – reaching out blindly with a graspng hand but not knowing how to ask for what we don’t even know we want.” Notably, Lois speaks up when someone asks her about her life, wants to know her story, validates what she has to contribute.

It is a common criticism that there is not a lot of forward momentum in this book. And it is true, a page turner it is not, but that would betray its central premise. For Unless inhabits time stopped, the pause between events, and the entire book feels like a held breath, revealing the worlds within life’s pauses, the spaces between the notes. It creates its own timeline, one that oscillates between past and present, one that lingers to endow significance in seemingly insignificant moments, like buying the perfect scarf or the quiet moment of domesticity that concludes the book.

In one of her letters, Reta writes, “It happens that I am the mother of a nineteen-year-old daughter who has been driven from the world by the suggestion that she has been doomed to miniaturism.” Yet miniaturism does not have to be meaninglessness. If anything, this book demonstrates the power of the miniature, reclaims it, inhabits the quotidian details of a woman’s life, but connects them to something larger, assigning them value, too, and making them part of a greater discourse about gender and power.

Yes, in Unless these feminist polemics are at times heavy-handed, and perhaps, facing her own narrative rushing toward a premature end, Shields grew impatient, wanted to make sure her message was heard. At times her message may overwhelm the book’s narrative, but these diatribes are also a vital part of Unless, the natural development of Reta’s own self-awareness, the manifestation of her voice.

But to return to those “in-between words” for a final contemplation of the conjunction that serves as the book’s title: “unless.” For it has two senses here. The first embodies the precariousness, the vulnerability, the fragility that runs through this novel: Everything will be okay, unless. . . . It speaks to the capricious whims of the universe. But it also is a hopeful word, one that embodies the capacity to change directions, to move forward, to acknowledge new voices. This humble conjunction’s two meanings sit on an teetering seesaw, waiting for context to see which side will win out, but also carrying far more meaning, and far more complexity, than we may have originally thought.

This week as we ramp up for Civilians Read, our panelists have been sharing their one-on-ones with this year’s authors. Yesterday, we ran Nic Boshart’s epic interview with Angie Abdou, and today we’re finishing up with Ron Nurwisah‘s chat with Terry Fallis, author of The Best Laid Plans.

RN: Where did the idea for The Best Laid Plans come from? I know that you’ve got quite a bit of experience working in politics, but what made you want to turn that into a novel? TF: As a rookie novelist with a full-time job and a busy family life, I was looking for a topic that didn’t demand two years of research before I could write it. Having worked in politics, I figured I could just create the story and move directly to the writing. The only real research I did for the novel was to meet with a retired Deputy Clerk of the House of Commons to confirm that my parliamentary procedure was valid. Plus, I have strong feelings about the state of our democracy and politics and wanted to use satire to shine a light on the shortcomings as I see them.

R: [...]]]>

This week as we ramp up for Civilians Read, our panelists have been sharing their one-on-ones with this year’s authors. Yesterday, we ran Nic Boshart’s epic interview with Angie Abdou, and today we’re finishing up with Ron Nurwisah‘s chat with Terry Fallis, author of The Best Laid Plans.

RN: Where did the idea for The Best Laid Plans come from? I know that you’ve got quite a bit of experience working in politics, but what made you want to turn that into a novel?
TF: As a rookie novelist with a full-time job and a busy family life, I was looking for a topic that didn’t demand two years of research before I could write it. Having worked in politics, I figured I could just create the story and move directly to the writing. The only real research I did for the novel was to meet with a retired Deputy Clerk of the House of Commons to confirm that my parliamentary procedure was valid. Plus, I have strong feelings about the state of our democracy and politics and wanted to use satire to shine a light on the shortcomings as I see them.

R: I find that satire and comedy is an interesting strain in Canadian Literature. A lot of authors dabble in humour but aren’t necessarily seen as being comedic. Who influenced your humour and your style (Canadian and non-Canadian writers)?
T: In my simplistic view, comedy makes you laugh, and satire, if it’s working, should make you laugh and think at the same time. I’ll be delighted if Canadians read TBLP and simply find it funny, enjoy the story, and identify with the characters. I’ll be even more fulfilled if the novel causes them to give passing thought to some of the issues in Canadian politics  I’ve tried to illuminate. As for inspiration, I’m a big fan of Paul Quarrington, Donald Jack, Mordecai Richler, Christopher Buckley, Stephen Fry, with a dash of Robertson Davies thrown in for good measure.

R: I absolutely love the character of Angus McClintock. Where did he come from? Was he based on anyone you knew, an amalgam of a few people or just a character that came to you?
T: The idea was to create the least likely character ever to arrive on the floor of the House of Commons. Physically, Angus is probably a blend of Alexander Graham Bell and Robertson Davies, two of my great Canadian heroes. I also had a physics professor in first year engineering who had the chaotic hairstyle and beard favoured by Angus. The rest of him is pure invention.

R: The novel had a very peculiar road, you wrote it, released as a podcast, self-published it before it got picked up by M & S. Did it affect the writing of the novel? Did M & S change it substantially from the first version you published?
T: The M&S version is virtually identical to the self-published edition except for the loss of about two paragraphs. The Scottish slang that I had spelled phonetically (e.g. “Didna”) in the self-published version was corrected in the M&S publication (e.g. “Dinnae”). But other than that, it’s the same book. (I certainly feel fortunate about that.)

R: I think a lot of Canadians have a low opinion on politics, I love how this book gives us hope about Ottawa and politics. Did you have that in mind when you were writing it?
T: Absolutely. I wanted this satire to take a look at our problems, yet present a new path (Angus’s path) that might leave the reader with some measure of hope that we can have a better brand of democracy and politics in this country. In the end, I wanted the book to be hopeful rather than discouraging. Having fun along the way was also a priority. No one wants to read a rage-filled polemic about the state of our politics, so cloaking it in a funny story with memorable characters (I hope), made sense to me.

–

Thanks to both Ron and Terry, ’twas a great way to wrap up our interview series! Next week, we’re on to the main event: Episode 1 of Civilians Read airs on Monday, Jan. 31st!

—

Angie Abdou is the absolutely astounding author of The Bone Cage, which is poor only in its breaking up my alliterative run. The book follows two Olympic hopefuls who in the early pages of the book qualify to participate in the 2000 Olympic summer games in Sydney, Australia. Digger and Sadie, a swimmer and a wrestler, surrounded by friends but isolated by rigorous training schedules and their need for success. For these characters, realizing their dreams means shutting everything, and everyone out.

Like Digger and Sadie, I too walk along a lonely road toward competition. I need to train myself mentally and physically to bring this book to the top [...]]]> In this final week before Civilians Read hits the airwaves (or internet lines), we’ve been sharing interviews that our panelists did with their authors. So far, we’ve shared chats with Jeff Lemire and Ami McKay, and today I have Nic Boshart‘s marathon interview with Angie Abdou to share with you. You’ll notice it’s quite a bit longer than the others (grab your glasses and a powerbar!), but I think that’s what happens when you put two fierce competitors together. I’ll let Nic take over the rest of the introduction . . .

—

Angie Abdou is the absolutely astounding author of The Bone Cage, which is poor only in its breaking up my alliterative run. The book follows two Olympic hopefuls who in the early pages of the book qualify to participate in the 2000 Olympic summer games in Sydney, Australia. Digger and Sadie, a swimmer and a wrestler, surrounded by friends but isolated by rigorous training schedules and their need for success. For these characters, realizing their dreams means shutting everything, and everyone out.

Like Digger and Sadie, I too walk along a lonely road toward competition. I need to train myself mentally and physically to bring this book to the top of the podium, or as we call it in the amateur-fake-book-contest circuit call it, the golden stool.

One of the reasons I was drawn to the book the huge lack of sports literature in Canada. There often seems to be a dichotomy, or at least my experience in high-school has show me, between the physical and the mental realms. This book really brings them together. While admittedly Angie tackles a lot of very Canadian themes-solitude, struggle, landscape, nation-building-she does so in a contemporary and meaningful way. People can relate to the Olympic dream. And people can relate to her characters, to their disappointment and victories, to their hopes and their fears.

I emailed Angie last week at her home in Fernie, B.C., which to me was once a pit-stop on a way to tree-planting camp, memorable only in that they had a great ice cream store and the half-hour of the 2006 world cup qualifying round I watched there.

I loved this book, and I could really relate to it, and I have no idea why. How was it possible that someone living in Fernie could write a book that rings true with yours truly, an urban bookworm who’s greatest athletic achievement was ten solid minutes of curse-words at a Toronto FC game?

N: You live in Fernie, B.C. What do you like about living there?

A: Everybody in Fernie is fit and athletic — it’s a given. When people get together, they don’t go for coffee or out for lunch. Instead, they go for a ski or a hike or a run or a bike ride. Maybe they follow that up with a yoga session. People are on the go, and I love it.  here’s none of that obsession about losing weight and getting fit because everyone is already fit — it’s simply built into the lifestyle. There are so many inspiring people here; eighty-year-olds hiking up mountains or skiing black-diamond runs. It makes getting old look not so bad at all. So, I like that.  I also like that there’s no traffic, and town is small enough that I don’t have to drive anyway (I am a truly terrible driver, dangerous). Visually, of course, Fernie is gorgeous-on a blue-sky day, its beauty still catches me off guard, absolutely startling.

N: What are you reading right now?

A: I’m reading Sean Dixon’s The Girls Who Saw Everything. I had a lot of fun with him and Christy Ann Conlin when we were on the top 40 list for Canada Reads. A few of us spent an inordinate amount of time just goofing around on twitter — and those two cracked me up, so I’d been waiting for their books for awhile. The Girls Who Saw Everything finally arrived this week. It’s one of those very clever books that makes the reader feel smart and well-read and in-on-the-joke. I like those kinds of books.

N: Do you have a genre you really like? I enjoy science-fiction.

A: I used to teach Sci-Fi at UWO. It was filled with a lot of engineering students, all very resentful of the fact that they had to take an English class (taught by someone who had read a lot less science fiction than they had). So that has forever coloured sci-fi for me. Sorry.

To be honest, I don’t read a lot of genre fiction. I really try to “keep up” with Canadian literary fiction — which, of course, is impossible . . .  so I don’t read much else. Within Canadian literary fiction, I’ve developed a bit of an obsession with Sport Lit. I even joined the International Sport Literature Association — how’s that for geeky? It answers your question below, though — I’ve managed to find a worldwide group especially for people who love books and sports.

N: A lot of us literary-types aren’t so athletic, but you have a Ph.D. in literature and are a competitive swimmer. Do you have any friends at all? Do they give you wedgies for being a nerd or try to outwit you because you’re a jock?

A: This question made me laugh. I DO have friends — though I don’t make as much time for them these days as I’d like (my two little kids, full-time job, mountain commute, and writing seem to have pretty much taken care of my time for me!). I’m trying to think if I’ve had to endure any of the type of anti-jock (or anti-book-geek) harassment that you talk about. It seems like most of my friends are readers AND athletes. I don’t think the two are as mutually exclusive as we like to think. Watch for my blog on www.cbc.ca/books/canadareads for more on this topic. I should, though, say that my athletic friends seem to really enjoy when I write fiction on their world — it’s an under–represented way of life in terms of literary fiction (which is perfect — leaves it wide open for me!).  Anne G was talking about how Carol Shields wrote the kinds of books that didn’t exist and the kind she wanted to read – and that’s how she came up with her trademark domestic novels about the “ordinary.”  I guess I’ve done the same, to an extent, with my  novels about jocks.

N: You write about athletes who compete in solitary sports, swimming and wrestling. Was that a conscious decision? I know you’re a swimmer, but why wrestling?

A: I did, from the beginning, want to have one water sport (preferably one that involved submersion – though I briefly considered rowing) and one combative sport. So that was conscious. I really struggled with swimming and wrestling, though: I didn’t want to use them because of autobiographical connections. You’re right that I swam competitively — so did my mom and my husband. For wrestling – my dad, my brother, and my first husband all wrestled at an international level. I was also a wrestling Draw Master (and an avid spectator) well into my twenties. So, I know both sports well. It seemed like it would be more imaginative or more adventurous to write about different sports. I thought about rowing or syncrho (but not waterpolo which would’ve been too similar to wrestling). I also  thought about boxing or judo instead of wrestling. But to include the kinds of physical authenticating details that seemed necessary, it made more sense to go with two sports I already knew from the inside.

N: When training, both Digger and Sadie talk a lot about pushing through, and not letting the world around affect you. Have you been through this? What about as a writer, is there any comparison there?

A: It’s a perfect comparison, isn’t it? Writing and training are just the same in that way. The sporting life is harder, though, in the sense that with writing you can hold onto the dream right to the deathbed. In sports, there comes a point where you have to let the dream go. That sucks. I also find it easier to push myself in sports than in writing because in sports I’m rewarded with the endorphin rush (an addictive high – which then makes it easier to go back every day). Rewards in writing come quite a bit more slowly. Though standing on stage between Jian Ghomeshi and Georges Laraque – that was a pretty good rush (I could easily get addicted to that!).

N: How do you feel about being defended by another athlete? Do you think that will help your chances?

A: I’m thrilled about Georges defending my book. If there’s one thing athletes are good at, it’s contests. He’ll be great. He’s so completive (a trait I recognize well) and I’m getting such a kick out of watching him gear up for the debates. When I heard that The Bone Cage had made the final five, I thought my celebrity would be an amateur athlete. I was quite flattered that Georges picked it  and that it spoke to him so profoundly. I love hearing him talk about it.  All of the Canada Reads books and celebrities seem very well matched — each of us writers is convinced we got the best celebrity! That’s a good sign. The debates are going to be fabulous.

N: A big part of being an athlete is training your body to be a tool. It sort of takes you outside yourself. There is a natural talent that is forced and shaped into something more with rigorous training. You have a Ph.D. in literature, years of rigorous literary training. Do you think that there’s a comparative dichotomy with your writing? How connected do you feel to it, and how much outside of it are you?

A: That’s a really interesting question – it is a careful balancing act, isn’t it. To write, you need to be both inside a world (or at least to fully imagine yourself inside it) in order to get that authentic, vivid, plausible detail, but then you must also stand just outside of it as an observer to be able to recognize the strange and bizarre about that world. You’re kind of on the cusp between in and out, opening a curtain so the reader can take a voyeuristic peek into an unfamiliar life. That precarious in/out balance is true in the case of both The Bone Cage and The Canterbury Trail. Maybe that’s why I feel uncomfortable when interviewers ask me to speak as an athlete or to speak as a ski-bum. I’d rather speak as a writer who has one foot (or maybe just a toe) in the world of elite athletes or hardcore ski-bums.

N: A lot of your characters have very distinct voices, and a lot of little ticks that make them unique, but they also have a depth to them. How did you manage to keep such a large cast but still make each character so distinct?

A: Well, thank you!  I thought the book actually had a kind of small cast of characters. It’s hard to evaluate my own work (even though I *love* evaluating other books and actually make a living of doing so). To be honest, I can attribute this success entirely to my editor, Suzette Mayr.  The first draft she saw had a lot more characters and most of them were not very deep or distinct.  She made it very clear that I had more work to do. I cut the cast in half (approximately) and did a major rewrite to turn everyone who was left into a full, believable, memorable character.  Suzette made me.  (Thanks, Suzette)

N: How would The Bone Cage have changed if it had been located in London where you attended UWO? What if it were set in a city? Would it be the same story?

A: The Bone Cage is also very much rooted in realism, so I wanted it to be in a city that had strong programs in both wrestling and swimming, preferably national training centres. London wouldn’t have worked. SFU would’ve worked, but SFU is different in that the teams compete in the American system rather than the Canadian one for varsity. These are very minor details from a literary perspective, but I wanted the books to ring true for people “in the know” – I didn’t want to give athletes any reason to think “This chick has no idea what she’s talking about – LONDON? Give me a break!” (for example). I also just happen to like fiction set in Western Canada. (Recently, I loved Cool Water for example).

A little interesting detail — I wasn’t living in Calgary at all when I wrote the book. When I did go to University of Calgary (well after The Bone Cage was published), it was a surreal experience. I felt like I’d walked into a fictional landscape — “That’s where Sadie works!” “That’s where Digger and Fly have coffee!” “This is where Sadie and Digger met!” It’s eerie to spend so much time in an “imaginary” place and then to find yourself standing in it. It was quite awhile before I could walk through the U of C Phys-Ed building without giggling to myself.

N: What sort of plotting do you do before you write? Do you have an outline? When you go into a story, do have themes you are consciously playing on?

A: That’s different for each project, but for The Bone Cage, I had the full plot pretty much outlined. I never wrote it down (for fear of jinx), but it was all in my head. I knew where Sadie and Digger started, when they met, what happened after that (shhhhh!), and how the book ended. The ending of the book seems a bit controversial, but I have my reasons and I fought to stop the narrative there (I won’t say more than that here as I don’t want to ruin it). I also had the themes fairly early on. Before I started, I had the more literal themes about the Olympic quest and the athletic existence, and then very early in the process the more metaphorical themes/implications occurred to me as I started thinking about ways we’re defined by our bodies. Of course, elite athletes are almost solely defined by their bodies, but really it’s true of everybody and we all have to redefine ourselves as we age and our bodies can no longer do what we want them to do. The body-as-identity theme is meant to be reflected in the title The Bone Cage.

N: I work in digital publishing by day, what do you think of all this e-book stuff? Are you happy to see yours in digital form?

A: Even though I’m ridiculously attached to my computer, my blackberry, and the internet, I was a bit resistant to the e-book thing. I’m just so in-love with my “real” books.  However, I found myself to be surprisingly happy about The Bone Cage coming out as an e-book, and that development has inspired me to check out the whole thing. I’m just in the process of figuring out what kind of e-reader to buy.  Actually — why don’t you just tell me — what should I buy?

N: Your next book, The Canterbury Trail, is actually your dissertation from your Ph.D. After a certain point you had to finish it to get your Ph.D. Did that change anything for you? Or was it just the same as before; you were writing this book that you wanted to write and you just happened to get a Ph.D. too?

A: That is an incredibly long story — my life story, really. Let’s see if I can condense it. I’d done most of a Ph.D. in Medieval Literature in the early 90s at UWO. I quit in my fifth year (after doing all course work, all exams, and a full draft of my dissertation). I decided the academic life wasn’t for me, and I ran away to Fernie. After awhile in Fernie, I started writing fiction and then eventually found my way back into teaching at the university level (College of the Rockies). It always kind of bugged me that I couldn’t put those three fancy letters after my name.  Then I published The Bone Cage and Suzette Mayr was such an amazing editor and I learned a lot about writing from her. She was on faculty at University of Calgary. So, I started thinking . . . I want to write another book, I’d love to have Suzette’s mentorship, I’d also like to have a Ph.D. . . . sooooo, what about if I do a PhD at UofC and write my next novel under Suzette’s guidance and call it a dissertation?

The idea barely crossed my mind and immediately I found myself back in school. It all happened very quickly. So, I redid my graduate courses and my candidacy exams, and then I wrote a novel I wanted to write with a great mentor – then voila, I had a Ph.D. It sounds pretty easy, and in a way it was. Everything went surprisingly smoothly. I guess the main difference in writing the novel as a dissertation rather than writing it on my own was that because it was a PhD, I was able to get a six month paid professional development leave from the college – so in that sense it was easier. I don’t know how I would’ve found time to write a novel otherwise. I also  had two kids between the time I started and finished my Ph.D. — so deadlines were very useful. I could very easily have written nothing in the last four years.

N: Can you tell us a bit about The Canterbury Trail?

A: No.

Just kidding.

It’s set in Coalton, a small mountain town that can’t quite decide if it’s defined by resource extraction or tourism. Of course, since the novel is called The Canterbury Trail you know there’s a pilgrimage. In this case, the pilgrimage is a ski-touring trek. It’s late April and the ski-lifts have closed for the season. It starts to snow and everyone in town – the ski bums, the hippies, the rednecks, the developers — all get the same idea: to trek into a backcountry cabin a day’s walk from Coalton.  From there, well . . .  do you know Carrier’s La Guerre, Yes Sir?  There, Carrier gets the whole of small-town Quebec into one tiny house and then sees what happens. The Canterbury Trail is like that, except there’s more sweaty ski socks and mushroom tea.  Here’s a more professional description.

(And of course, in my first email, I forgot to ask the most important question. The one trait that lead me to such a stupendous author and book. Hours later, after an in-bound avalanche that we Easterners even heard about, Angie finished answered the most important question I think that can be asked of anyone.)

Nic's own Anne Michaels/Margaret Atwood Look

N: So you have really great hair. Do you use any product? I get people trying to touch my hair a lot, do you get that? How do you keep it in good health when it’s in chlorine and all that?

A: Do people really touch your hair? That is weird. I hope I’ve never touched anyone’s hair (other than my kids’ or husband’s). Happily people don’t try to touch my hair, ever. Hair product – anything to keep the frizz under control,hand lotion in those little hotel bottles works. I’m going for a Margaret Atwood / Anne Michaels sort of look.

I like the silly aspect of this whole Canada Reads thing. It’s fun. People get so indignant. It’s ridiculous. There are plenty of places to have highbrow CanLit discussions. There’s nothing wrong with a bit of fun sometimes. I think it’s a good thing to see “fun” and “Can Lit” in the same sentence, for a change. So I’m perfectly happy to answer questions about hair products.

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Is this enormous interview a sign that Nic’s heading for a repeat victory? Tune in next week to find out. Thanks to both Nic and Angie — all the typing in this interview alone is proof enough of your athletic prowess.

Our final interview runs tomorrow, with Ron Nurwisah on deck with his interview with Terry Fallis.

In the last week before our Civilians Read debates, we’re sharing the interviews our panelists did with this year’s slate of authors. Yesterday Natalie St. Pierre interviewed Jeff Lemire, and today Sarah Labrie is talking with Ami McKay, author of The Birth House.

SL: Describe what the Canada Reads experience has been like for you. Is it like Survivor, cut-throat and strategic, or are you just watching it all play out?

AM: It’s not my game to win, so there’s no sense in my getting all Jerri Manthey (for all the old-school Survivor fans out there) about it. Most of the “fight” and strategic planning in my life happens while I’m trying to get what’s in my head down on the page.

I plan on just shutting up; sitting by my laptop and listening to the panelists go for it.

SL: This year’s competition is between an eclectic mix of books. In what ways do you think The Birth House stands out?

AM: The Birth House has been known to take many readers by surprise. A lot of people read it (or avoid it) thinking that they know exactly what it will be. They immediately put it [...]]]>

In the last week before our Civilians Read debates, we’re sharing the interviews our panelists did with this year’s slate of authors. Yesterday Natalie St. Pierre interviewed Jeff Lemire, and today Sarah Labrie is talking with Ami McKay, author of The Birth House.

SL: Describe what the Canada Reads experience has been like for you. Is it like Survivor, cut-throat and strategic, or are you just watching it all play out?

AM: It’s not my game to win, so there’s no sense in my getting all Jerri Manthey (for all the old-school Survivor fans out there) about it. Most of the “fight” and strategic planning in my life happens while I’m trying to get what’s in my head down on the page.

I plan on just shutting up; sitting by my laptop and listening to the panelists go for it.

SL: This year’s competition is between an eclectic mix of books. In what ways do you think The Birth House stands out?

AM: The Birth House has been known to take many readers by surprise. A lot of people read it (or avoid it) thinking that they know exactly what it will be. They immediately put it into the category of, “just another Can Lit tome of rural historical fiction,” and then dismiss it. (I personally don’t think there is such a thing, but that’s another conversation.) Whether they like the novel or not, I think the other Canada Reads (and Civilians Read) panellists will find there to be at least one moment or scene in the book that truly catches their attention.

SL: Which book do you think is the biggest ‘threat?’

AM: Essex County. That thing is good and hefty. I wouldn’t want to meet up with it in a dark alley.

SL: Though it takes place in the early 20th century, I found the themes in The Birth House to be not unlike many of those found in books with more contemporary settings. Can you tell me a bit about why you chose historical fiction?

AM: I make sense of the world through writing, and the easiest way “in” for me (so far) has been through the use of historical settings in my work. Some writers use the prism of science or speculative fiction to shed light on the challenges we face in the present, others plant their words firmly in the here and now.  Maybe I’m weird (OK, I know I am,) but I tend to express my thoughts better when I have an Edith Wharton-esque voice nagging around in my brain. For me, the past suits my pursuits. I’m not hiding behind historical trappings, I just look better when I’m corseted.

SL: What book do you think all of Canada should read?

AM: Certainty, by Madeleine Thien.

–

Thanks to Sarah and to Ami for stopping by the KIRBC! Tomorrow we’ll eavesdrop on a chat between Nic Boshart and The Bone Cage‘s Angie Abdou.

Natalie St. Pierre:  Your latest work has been for DC Comics and its Vertigo imprint. How have your hardcore comics fans reacted to Essex County‘s Canada Reads nomination? Jeff Lemire: The Canada Read selection has brought a lot of renewed attention to Essex County and as a result the fans of Sweet Tooth and Superboy have been going back and checking it out. It’s always nice, and rewarding, when your work can cross over and find a broader audience, from superhero fanboys to the literary book crowd.

NSP: During both Canada Reads and Civilians Reads, I suspect that Essex County will be challenged based on genre alone–the graphic-novels-aren’t-actually-novels argument. How would you respond to this?

JL: I agree. I think the biggest obstacle that EC faces is [...]]]> Last week I interviewed out Civilians Read panelists, but for the final week before the competition, I wanted you to get to know this competition’s real celebs a little better. So I asked the Civilians to chat with the authors they’re defending and share their conversation with us. To start us off, Natalie St. Pierre asked Jeff Lemire, author of Essex County, a few questions about small towns, graphic novels in Canada Reads, and Twin Peaks.

Natalie St. Pierre:  Your latest work has been for DC Comics and its Vertigo imprint. How have your hardcore comics fans reacted to Essex County‘s Canada Reads nomination?
Jeff Lemire: The Canada Read selection has brought a lot of renewed attention to Essex County and as a result the fans of Sweet Tooth and Superboy have been going back and checking it out. It’s always nice, and rewarding, when your work can cross over and find a broader audience, from superhero fanboys to the literary book crowd.

NSP: During both Canada Reads and Civilians Reads, I suspect that Essex County will be challenged based on genre alone–the graphic-novels-aren’t-actually-novels argument. How would you respond to this?

JL: I agree. I think the biggest obstacle that EC faces is its medium. It will be facing a lot of prejudices on the limited definition of what people think comics are. The fact is that comics are a medium capable of dealing with any genre, just like literature or film is.  Luckily there is a wealth of amazing material on the bookshelves now, from historical fiction to autobiography to fantasy and memoir, that back up the argument that comics are capable of the same depth, intelligence and complexity as any other art form.

NSP: If I were to generalize, “home” and many of its permutations–exile, diaspora, homelessness, belonging–emerge as central themes in Canadian literature. Essex County, which is a very intimate work, also speaks to these themes. How did writing about your own home affect your approach as a writer and artist?

JL: Well, it was the first time I started looking inward, at my own history, as a storyteller. Up to that point I had been struggling telling stories that had no real connection to me or my life. The decision to look back on my own past, and specifically where I came from, helped ground my work and focus my narrative ideas. And as a result I think it helped me finally find my voice as a storyteller and artist.

NSP: Even though you now live in Toronto, small communities–Essex County, Large Mouth, Smallville–figure prominently in your work. What is it about these communities that fires your imagination?

JL: Well, it’s hard to say for sure, but I guess I like the idea of using a small community as a microcosm for a larger society. I also like dealing with the isolation and insular nature of small towns. On a purely aesthetic level I like drawing open spaces and rural landscapes much more than urban centers. It just seems to suit my sparse drawing style better.  Plus so many movies, comics, books, etc are set in the generic “big city” its important to remember that there are other perspectives and other stories out there to be explored.

NSP: To end things on a fun note, I’ve read that you’re a fellow Twin Peaks fan. Which Twin Peaks character would have Essex County on his or her bookshelf and why?

JL: Definitely Deputy Hawk. He seems like an enlightened, interesting guy who would enjoy EC. Or maybe Sherriff Truman. Michael Onktean, the actor who played him, was in Slapshot after all.

–

Big thank yous to Natalie and to Jeff Lemire for taking the time for this interview. To find out more about Jeff, check out his website and his blog, and stay tuned for the return of Books in 140 Seconds on February 10th, when Erin and I talk about issues 1 & 2 of Sweet Tooth!

So much of Canadian writing is rooted in setting, and Jeff Lemire’s Essex County not only conjures up a landscape, but gives you a real sense of small-town living: the isolation, the ties between neighbours and family members, the common touchstones. While larger cities might be known for their architecture or landmarks rather than their populace, we get to know Essex County through its people, and those people are the town’s most essential architecture.

They are what holds it up, holds it together, and though the roads between them may become impassable (and this story has its share of loss and betrayal) there are others to clear them, to ensure that the whole does not fall [...]]]> Admittedly, I’m pretty new to graphic novels, having only picked up my first one at the end of 2008. Since then I’ve waded a bit further into the medium, and have glimpsed at the breadth it has to offer: from the emotional complexities and dark psychological undercurrents of Alison Bechdel’s Fun Home to the clever social criticism, mystery, and adventure of Y: The Last Man. So I was thrilled to see a graphic novel make the list, curious to see how it would alter the discussion.

So much of Canadian writing is rooted in setting, and Jeff Lemire’s Essex County not only conjures up a landscape, but gives you a real sense of small-town living: the isolation, the ties between neighbours and family members, the common touchstones. While larger cities might be known for their architecture or landmarks rather than their populace, we get to know Essex County through its people, and those people are the town’s most essential architecture.

They are what holds it up, holds it together, and though the roads between them may become impassable (and this story has its share of loss and betrayal) there are others to clear them, to ensure that the whole does not fall apart. Nowhere is this more evident than in the last section, the story of the Country Nurse, who in her travels for her occupation (and some non-medical meddling), keeps the town stitched together like the patchwork quilt she works on every night. (Moving from the nurse at her sewing to aerial shots of the patchwork fields in last pages of the novel is a brilliant, soaring moment.)

And it is the town’s secret connections, gradually revealed to the reader, that really drive the story here. For this is a story not occupied with what’s happening in the present, but with discovering how the past shaped the present, and Lemire spends much of the narrative in flashback and memory, with ghosts and scrapbooks constantly intruding on the present, drawing its characters, and the reader, back to pivotal events. With our bird’s eye view, we become like the ubiquitous crow that transcends time and space, weaving the story together. (Though I must admit, I was a little confused by the symbolism of this crow, which generally means mischief or danger, a sort of warning, which I didn’t feel was a dominant tone here.)

What does dominate is the sense of loneliness and isolation. So many panels contain a solitary figure, and when they are shared, the relationships depicted within them are so strained that the two figures may as well be in their separate boxes. The rare moments of connection between characters are thus that much more powerful: Jimmy playing make believe with young Lester, the on-ice bonding between Vince and Lou, or the doomed spark between Lou and Beth. Paradoxically, though it is family secrets that often isolate our characters, those interpersonal connections are essential anchors, to Essex County, and to each other, that need to be preserved, for as Lou experiences in the city and Kenny realizes about Lester, the cost of total isolation is much greater.

With their superhero and daily funny strip roots, a neophyte like me always fears a graphic novel will slip into being heavy-handed or obvious, but Essex County is anything but, and Lemire creates many subtle, sophisticated moments. Even his emotional peaks are understated: a group of hockey players tapping their sticks to mourn their lost teammate. The art, too, is sparse when it needs to be, but other times incredibly rich (the scrapbooks and albums inside it are gorgeously rendered). The black and white treatment is perfect for a world that is often bleak and lonely, it seems to embody the secrets that shadow the characters, giving them both darkness and depth.

Brooding and subtle, the great pleasure of Essex County is being temporarily welcomed into its community, climbing into its family tree and discovering how deep its roots run.

Ashleigh is the Content Manager at Kobo and an executive member of the CanBPA. For Civilians Read, Ashleigh will be championing Unless by Carol Shields.

Last year you defended Generation X, and this year you’ve chosen a very different book to defend. What made you select Unless?

Last year I chose Generation X because it has been a favourite of mine as a teen and I was anxious to revisit and defend it. This year, I hadn’t read any of the books when we chose, so I was going purely by the synopses. Every key word in this description resonated with me: francophilia, feminism, writer, literature, strong female protagonist — Sold!

You probably have the most challenging book on the list, both in terms of substance and style. Do you think that’s going to be an obstacle or an asset?  Do you think it will be received differently in this competition than in regular Canada Reads?

I think it will be received better among the Civilians. With all of us working in [...]]]>

All week I’ve been introducing you to our panelists for this year’s Civilians Read competition. Yesterday we met Ron Nurwisah, and today we’re finding out a bit more about Ashleigh Gardner.

Ashleigh is the Content Manager at Kobo and an executive member of the CanBPA. For Civilians Read, Ashleigh will be championing Unless by Carol Shields.

Last year you defended Generation X, and this year you’ve chosen a very different book to defend. What made you select Unless?

Last year I chose Generation X because it has been a favourite of mine as a teen and I was anxious to revisit and defend it. This year, I hadn’t read any of the books when we chose, so I was going purely by the synopses. Every key word in this description resonated with me: francophilia, feminism, writer, literature, strong female protagonist — Sold!

You probably have the most challenging book on the list, both in terms of substance and style. Do you think that’s going to be an obstacle or an asset?  Do you think it will be received differently in this competition than in regular Canada Reads?

I think it will be received better among the Civilians. With all of us working in publishing and media, I think many of the scenes are familiar. I know this made me connect more with the book.

In our inaugural competition you had the first book to be voted off. Has that experience, and the experience with last year’s competition in general affected the way you’ll approach the competition this year?

I was definitely surprised to be the first one out last year — and I took it personally. This year, I’m out for blood. Ron is the only one safe from vengeance for last year.

Last year the big divide we saw was between the “big book” and the “little book.” Do you see any kind of major issue like that emerging this year?

I think the major issue this year that’s bound to be discussed is the fact that this year’s list was by vote. It’s really interesting, and conflicts with a lot of our ideas last year about the purpose of Canada Reads. I’m looking forward to hearing what everyone thinks.

Is there any particular book-panelist combo you’ll be watching out for this year?

This year I was surprised by the books my fellow panelists chose, and I don’t really see the perfect book/panelist combo that we had last year. This time around, I’m treating everyone as a threat — but I do think Ron has the element of surprise.

If you could choose any title to defend in a Canada Reads (or future Civilians Read) competition, what would it be and why?

Without hesitation I would choose Nellcott is My Darling, by Golda Fried from Coach House Books. I read this years ago, in my first year of university. It was one of those right book at the right time connections where you’re just bound to love it.  It’s a really sparse, atmostpheric book that reads like a Sophia Coppola movie.

Final words?

I’m not here to make friends!

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Stay tuned next week as our interviewees become interviewers and pose some questions to this year’s Canada Reads author. On Monday, we’ll start with Natalie St. Pierre’s tete-a-tete with Jeff Lemire.

Don’t forget, the Civilians Read runs January 31st-February 4th on computers everywhere.

There are a lot of familiar faces (or voices) in Civilians Read this year, but after having lost Erin Balser to the legitimate side of Canada Reads, I needed a replacement. So having experienced his insightful commentary and penchant for provocation first-hand at KIRBC meetings, I asked Ron Nurwisah to step up to the Civilians debate table.

Ron is an online producer at the National Post. He co-founded and helps edit the Afterword, the Post’s books blog. He grew up in Vancouver, B.C. but now calls Toronto home. Ron will be defending Terry Fallis’ The Best Laid Plans.

You were the first one to declare the title you wanted to defend. What drew you to The Best Laid Plans? Was being a bit of an Ali Velshi lookalike?

Because of my job, I get exposed to quite a bit of Canadian political gossip and news and the idea of a satirical novel set in Ottawa struck a chord with me. Also, I think humour is very under-represented in Canada Reads, maybe even in Canadian literature.

My resemblance to Ali Velshi, clearly the handsomest and best-spoken of all the Canada Reads panelists this year, was [...]]]>

There are a lot of familiar faces (or voices) in Civilians Read this year, but after having lost Erin Balser to the legitimate side of Canada Reads, I needed a replacement. So having experienced his insightful commentary and penchant for provocation first-hand at KIRBC meetings, I asked Ron Nurwisah to step up to the Civilians debate table.

Ron is an online producer at the National Post. He co-founded and helps edit the Afterword, the Post’s books blog. He grew up in Vancouver, B.C. but now calls Toronto home. Ron will be defending Terry Fallis’ The Best Laid Plans.

You were the first one to declare the title you wanted to defend. What drew you to The Best Laid Plans? Was being a bit of an Ali Velshi lookalike?

Because of my job, I get exposed to quite a bit of Canadian political gossip and news and the idea of a satirical novel set in Ottawa struck a chord with me. Also, I think humour is very under-represented in Canada Reads, maybe even in Canadian literature.

My resemblance to Ali Velshi, clearly the handsomest and best-spoken of all the Canada Reads panelists this year, was a coincidental bonus.

As a new recruit to Civilians Read, you don’t have the experience, but you do have the element of surprise on your side. How are you going to make the most of being the x-factor?

I don’t like surprises so I’m going to lay it all out for my other panelists: I like arguing. I did two years of debate at university, I’m comfortable talking about stuff I only half know something about. That being said, there aren’t exactly any wallflowers in the group so I think I’m in good company.

You’re the only panelist here who doesn’t work in publishing proper. How do you think affects your perspective?

Not too much actually. Because of my work at the Afterword I spend a lot of time with people in publishing. If anything, I think my taste and reading habits are actually further away from the average Canadian which might be a bit of a disadvantage. I think a lot of people who work in publishing have practice thinking about what books sell and what won’t. I don’t do too much of that.

You’re never shy about calling out books you don’t like — which of this year’s titles will you be trying to take down?

I think The Birth House has a big shiny, red, bull’s-eye on it. It’s well-written and I liked it, but it feels like a stereotype of so much Canadian literature. You can practically tick them off as you’re reading the book.

Don’t get me wrong, a lot of people enjoy your typical CanLit book, but I think Canada Reads and Civilians Read could push people to enjoy something a bit different.

If you could choose any title to defend in a Canada Reads (or future Civilians Read) competition, what would it be?

I’d actually love the challenge of defending a graphic novel. So something by Seth or Chester Brown (particularly his gorgeous Louis Riel book), Mariko Tamaki’s Skim which was on the longlist would’ve been particularly intriguing. Although, I may not be the best person to defend a coming-of-age book about a girl.

Final words? Campaign slogan?

I’m going to try to channel some of Angus McKlintock’s (the MP from Terry’s novel) no-BS wisdom and straightforwardness. So if I get a really odd Scottish brogue you’ll know why.

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Stay tuned tomorrow for my interview with our final Civilian, Ashleigh Gardner.