Posts Tagged ‘My World’

Year-End Round-Up, Part 2: My 10+ Most Disappointing Reads of 2012

Posted in Aldrich, Bess Streeter, Banks, Lynne Reid, Bor, Eleanor, Godden, Rumer, Goudge, Elizabeth, Hill, Susan, Hodgins, Jack, MacInnes, Helen, Montgomery, L.M., My World, Read in 2012, Smith, Dodie, tagged , on December 31, 2012| 6 Comments »

Oh, such high hopes I had for these ones!

Reviews I’d read and the past experiences I’d had with some of these authors led me to believe I’d love these books. But for various reasons, these were the reads that failed to thrill to the expected levels in 2012.

(I’ve read much “worse” books this year, but in all of those cases I had no expectations of excellence, so the disappointment wasn’t so deeply felt.)

*****

MOST DISAPPOINTING READS 2012

In alphabetical order of author’s surname.

*****

1. A White Bird Flying (1931)

and

Miss Bishop (1933) 

by Bess Streeter Aldrich

A double whammy of disappointment from this author, whose mild historical romances I generally quite enjoy. Both of these books started off wonderfully well, but by midway through each I was thoroughly out of sympathy with the heroines, and their every thought and action served only to annoy.

Laura in White Bird Flying seriously over-estimated her artistic abilities, and when she did chuck her not-very-viable dream of becoming a writer (key requirement: you have to be able to write) to marry her long-suffering swain, she rather moped her way through her not-very-exciting married life in much the same way as she’s drooped through college. Perhaps if she’d dreamed less and applied herself more? A bit of a whiner, was Laura, with a strong sense of her own “specialness”.

Ella Bishop, of Miss Bishop, might as well have been walked around with a “kick me” sign taped to her back. Her continual self-sacrifice buys her a few moments of gratification here and there, and a public ovation when she’s turfed from her job at the worst possible moment, but she still ends up a penniless old maid, having given and given and given all her life with no return from her selfish hangers-on. The author seems to approve. I really wanted Miss Bishop to show some selfishness and gratify a few of her own deep down desires, instead of being such a darned good sport all the way through. This whole story just irritated me. Grrr.

2. The L-Shaped Room (1960)

and

The Backward Shadow (1970)

by Lynne Reid Banks

I so wanted to enjoy the story of Jane Graham, a very liberated young woman who forges ahead with her life regardless of the opinions of those around her. I should have liked her, I wanted to like her, but ultimately I came away feeling that she was a morbidly self-centered and stunningly rude little piece of work. I pity her poor kid. I couldn’t make it through the second book of the trilogy, and I can’t even recall the title of the third book. Seems to me it focusses on Jane’s difficulties with her child. No wonder; I’m sure the mother-child relationship is as dismally ill-fated as all of Jane’s other relationships.

Too unspeakably dreary.

(However, Stuck-in-a-book’s Simon liked this one a lot, so don’t take my word for it; please read what he has to say, too. Most of his reviews agreeably jive with my own opinions, but this was a rare exception.)

3. Adventures of a Botanist’s Wife (1952)

by Eleanor Bor

A promising-sounding memoir of travels throughout northern India in the 1930s and 40s. In reality, the writing was a bit flat, and not nearly as interesting as I’d hoped for. The author didn’t include nearly enough detail either about her own thoughts and feelings, or about the botanical and geographical wonders of the areas she was moving through. A chore to finish; I kept expecting it to pick up, but the narrative deteriorated as the book progressed. This one could have been so wonderful; a sad disappointment.

4. Pippa Passes (1994)

and

Cromartie v. The God Shiva Acting Through the Government of India (1997)

by Rumer Godden

A pair of duds from veteran storyteller Godden. Written in the last years of her life, it is apparent that Godden’s stamina is failing in carrying these fictional ideas through to the higher level achieved by many of her earlier books. Moments of lovely writing, but generally not up to the standard I had hoped for from this master storyteller.

Pippa Passes concerns an impossibly gifted young dancer and singer and her trip to Venice with a ballet troupe. Previously sheltered and protected Pippa is ripe for romance – she attracts the amorous attentions of a dashing young gondolier and her lesbian ballet mistress. Unsatisfactory throughout; a sketchy sort of resolution which I cannot even really remember only a few months after my reading. That says it all. Godden was 87 when this one was published; I’m sure she felt tired; the story reads like she couldn’t really be bothered to refine her slight little romantic tale.

Cromartie vs. The God Shiva is also a disappointment, though a more ambitious, better-written story than the forgettable Pippa. A promising premise: a priceless statue of the god Shiva has surfaced in Toronto; it is believed to have been stolen from its niche in a temple alcove in a hotel on the Coromandel coast of India, with a clever replica substituted for the original. Romance, mystery, and tragic sudden death are all elements in this promising but shallow creation, the last published work by the veteran writer, who died shortly after its publication, at the venerable age of 90. Kudos to her for writing until the end, but sadly this last work is not up to the fine quality of many of her earlier novels.

5. The Middle Window (1935) 

by Elizabeth Goudge

One of Goudge’s very earliest published works – it was preceded by a forgettable (and forgotten) book of poetry, and the well-received Island Magic in 1934. The Middle Window is a sort of super-romantic Scottish ghost story, and it just didn’t come off the ground, atmosphere of Highland heather and noble-but-doomed ancestors notwithstanding. Lushly purple prose and terribly stereotypical characters, with a plot both predictable and outrageous in its premise. Some sort of weird reincarnation features strongly. Goudge herself blushingly dismisses this one in her own assessment of her works in her marvelous autobiography, The Joy of the Snow. Interesting only as a comparison to later books, to see how much better she could do once she found her stride. I’d heard it was pretty dire, but I’d hoped the panning comments were over-critical. They weren’t.

6. Mrs. de Winter (1993)

by Susan Hill

Contemporary “dark psychological thriller” writer Susan Hill takes a stab at a sequel to Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca. Some things are best left alone. I wish I could erase this dreary piggyback-on-a-classic tale from my memory. What was I thinking, to read this? What was anyone thinking, to commission this train wreck – er – car crash – of a misguided pseudo-sequel? I hope Daphne puts a ghostly curse on Susan Hill for this defamation of her (du Maurier’s) characters. They might have some issues, but no one, not even fictional characters so firmly in the public domain as Max and his unnamed second wife, deserve to be tampered with like this. Ick.

7. The Honorary Patron (1987)

by Jack Hodgins

Hodgins is a very clever writer, but my own mind couldn’t quite stretch enough to take some of the mental steps needed to fully enter into the spirit of this ponderously gleeful “magical realism” word game. I definitely saw and smiled at the humour, appreciated what Hodgins was getting at with his sly digs and cynical speeches, but found it terribly hard to push my way through to the end. This wasn’t the happy diversion I’d been expecting.  Another time, maybe a deeper appreciation. Perhaps. But in 2012 at least, a personal disappointment.

8. Friends and Lovers (1947)

by Helen MacInnes

One of thriller-espionage-suspense writer MacInnes’s several straightforward romances – no guns, spys or dastardly Soviet plots in sight. I’d read and enjoyed a number of the thrillers, and one of the romances – Rest and be Thankful, so when Friends and Lovers crossed my path I quite eagerly snapped it up, took it home, and settled down for what I thought would be a good vintage read.

Two star-crossed lovers triumph over family roadblocks and challenging personal circumstances to eventually wed. Essentially humourless, this was a disappointing read, and not anywhere close to as entertaining as I’d hoped it would be. The hero was terribly, jealously chauvinistic; the heroine was ultimately spineless where her swain is concerned. I didn’t like or respect either of them by the end of the tale. The author was capable of greater things.

9. Kilmeny of the Orchard (1910)

and

A Tangled Web (1931)

by Lucy Maud Montgomery.

Canadian literary icon Lucy Maud Montgomery has written some wonderfully entertaining books, but these two don’t count among them as far as I’m concerned.

Kilmeny presents an unbelievably lovely, incredibly musically talented, but vocally mute innocent country girl who is avidly pursued by the much more worldly Eric. A brooding Italian foster-brother acts as a rival in love. Aside from the rather creepy gleefulness with Eric displays upon his discovery of Kilmeny – “So young, so pure, so innocent – let me at her!” – the hateful prejudice the author displays towards the “tainted by his blood” Neil is exceedingly off-putting, even allowing for the era of the writing.

A Tangled Web concerns the internal struggles of a large family as each individual tries to prove worthy of inheriting a hideous heirloom – an old pottery jug. More dirty linen is displayed than I am interested in seeing; it could have been salvaged by better writing and non-sarcastic humor – both of which I know the author could have pulled off – but it missed the mark on all counts. I tried but couldn’t bring myself to even like most of the characters, and the author throws in a gratuitous racial slur on the last page which dropped this already B-grade novel more than a notch lower in my esteem.

10. The New Moon with the Old (1963)

by Dodie Smith

Yearning after a book of the same quality and deep appeal as my decided favourite read by this author, I Capture the Castle, I was ever so eager to experience some of her other quirky tales. And I was careful to ensure that before turning to the first page, my mind was consciously emptied of preconceptions and expectations, to be able to give New Moon a fair trial unshaded by the brilliant sun of Castle.

Even without a comparison to my favourite, The New Moon with the Old was not what I had hoped for.  Investment consultant (or something of the sort – I can’t quite remember the job description, just that there were clients and large sums of money involved) Rupert Carrington gambles and loses on an ambitious scheme involving his other people’s funds. He goes into hiding to escape prosecution, leaving his four offspring to fend for themselves with only a recently hired housekeeper to keep all of the practical wheels of a luxurious household running. Never having to have worked, and faced with the need to earn money to feed and clothe themselves, the four Carringtons – aged 14 into the early 20s – make forays into the larger world, taking on occupations as diverse as actress, novelist, composer and “mistress to a king”.  While not conventionally “successful”, all four land jam-side-up, being taken under the wings of various wealthy sponsors; swapping Daddy’s protection for the patronage of others.

I wasn’t so much shocked by the sexual/intellectual sellings-of-themselves most of the siblings indulged in, as by the ready acceptance of the father’s betrayal of the trust of his clients. This is never rectified; a skilful lawyer is obtained to get Rupert off the legal hook, and by the end all is looking potentially lovely in the Carrington garden. Cute characters and funny situations didn’t quite sugarcoat this one enough for me to swallow without gagging. Darn.

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Year-End Round-Up, Part 1: My 10+ Most Unexpected Reading Experiences of 2012

Posted in My World, Read in 2012, tagged on December 31, 2012| 4 Comments »

Best books lists, sensation of the year music lists, top news events lists, cutest YouTube video lists – you name it, all I’ve been seeing are lists, lists, LISTS! They’re everywhere this week. I wasn’t going to personally play this game, but there’s something about the dawn of a new year that demands a look back at the ups and downs, highs and lows, bests and worsts of the 12 months previous.

So I’ve caved in to temptation to add to the plethora of lists. Musing about the books of the last year and which ones really stood out, for various reasons, I hereby offer the first of three “Top Ten” book lists from the Leaves & Pages blog for 2012.

It’s not a full year’s worth of reading, as I only started blogging in April 2012, but I did manage to post something about almost all of the books I read in those eight and a half months. Some are on hold because I just didn’t get around to putting in the time their reviews deserved; at this point I may need to re-read these ones before reviewing them, so I may just bump them over to the 2013 list.

So this Most Unexpected 2012 list, and the two to follow, Most Disappointing 2012 and Personal Favourites 2012, will be drawn from only those books I reviewed for the blog.

It was much easier than I had expected to pick out the books in these three categories – the choices jumped right out at me, though order of preference has been a tough one, which I’ll avoid, at least with this first list.

*****

MOST UNEXPECTED READS 2012

In order of publication.

These are all “keepers”.

*****

1. An American Girl in London (1891)

by Sara Jeannette Duncan

Miss Mamie Wick heads to England on a solitary holiday, where she enthusiastically tourists and hob nobs with the high and mighty, even capturing the romantic interest of a lordship. We are all surprised by the twist at the end – well, the lordship and his relations and society chums perhaps more so than the reader, who has been gaining a great appreciation of innocently friendly but far from naïve Miss Wick while happily following her through this gently satirical travelogue.

2. The Jasmine Farm (1934)

by Elizabeth von Arnim

A social satire concerning the fabulously wealthy and sexually “pure” Lady Midhurst and what happens when her apparently virginal daughter quite calmly announces that she has been carrying on a most physically passionate affair for the past seven years with Lady Midhurst’s trusted financial adviser. Many emotional walls come tumbling down, with unexpected results. Some decidedly sophisticated characters and situations; I was just a little shocked by the author’s boldness in this one – check out the publication date!

3. Bedelia (1945)

by Vera Caspary

Vera Caspary has written a study of a psychopath as fluffy as eiderdown, a kitten whose claws were steel.

Bedelia was everything to please a man – and she pleased many. She was small, cuddly; she smelled nice. She never argued or lost her temper. Her house, like her hair, was shining, her food delicious. She loved to cook, and she adored the gadgets of housekeeping. How strange that a passion for percolators and copper pans should help solve the curious riddle of her past!

A femme fatale meets her matrimonial match. Mer-ow! An odd little thriller, a bit stiff in style, as I’ve noted in the review, but surprisingly memorable. Definitely unexpected.

4. Guard Your Daughters (1953)

by Diana Tutton

I wasn’t quite sure how I’d react to this family saga concerning the five Harvey sisters, their successful mystery-writer father, and their very odd mother. Some reviewers found it a charming and quixotic tale; others focussed on the darker, more disturbing elements.  I’d hoped to be charmed, but while I could definitely see what attracted so many to this sharply humorous and occasionally poignant story of a family of self-admitted eccentrics, I ended up seeing more of the underlying shadow than the surface shine. An interesting read, for itself and to compare notes with other reviewers. I’d like to read more by this author, and I’ll definitely read this one again, to see if my first impression holds true.

5. The Martha Trilogy

The Eye of Love (1957)

Martha in Paris (1962)

Martha, Eric and George (1964)

by Margery Sharp

‘Why should it always be the woman,’ asked Martha, ‘who’s landed with the little illegit?’

Putting principle into practice, she thus deposited a two-weeks-old infant on the paternal door-step and returned carefree to her proper business of painting masterpieces: vanishing so successfully, indeed, from the lives of both lover and son, that ten years elapsed before the consequences of her misbehaviour caught up with her…

Martha is one of the most verbally stoic, goal-oriented, and single-minded heroines I have ever met among the fictional pages. Martha wants one thing from early childhood onward: to paint pictures. How she succeeds most magnificently is the thread that binds these three unusual romances together. The infant referred to appears some way along in Martha’s personal journey; before we meet young George we make the acquaintance of numerous other unique individuals, cleverly set out for our amusement by Margery Sharp’s exceedingly well crafted word pictures. A rather strange and consistently amusing narrative, with a decided sting in its tail. Not what I’d expected, but a very welcome surprise.

6. Mexico Unknown (1962)

by Lorna Whishaw

On October 4, the day of the sputnik, we left the sanitary tranquility of the American way of life, and in total ignorance of things Mexican we plunged into the uneasy atmosphere where anything goes, where yes and no are as high as the sky and as deep as hell, and where nothing you can conceive of is impossible.

A fictionalized autobiography of a mother and her young daughter’s journey by car from their home in Canada to surprise their mining engineer husband and father working somewhere in the Sierra Madre wilderness. They find the mine, and for a while join in the lives of the miners and their families, adjusting their standards to meet the no-standards of the primitive living conditions, until disastrous events force a move southwards further into Mexico and into central America. Absolutely fascinating. An unusual traveller’s tale told in a very individual voice.

7. The Long Winter (1962)

by John Christopher

A dystopian post-apocalyptic love story-thriller-social satire. This one gives John Wyndham’s similarly themed novels a run for their money. Fifty years old, and could have been written yesterday, if one were to swap our current preoccupation with rising sea levels for 1962’s “new ice age”.

When the end came to him, in however strange and incalculable a form, it would be irrelevant, as irrelevant as the pneumonia or heart attack or cancer which would otherwise have rendered his seat vacant. Soon all the seats would be vacant together until, as must happen, marauders broke in to rip up the wood and carry away the books that were left for fuel. Some of the rarest books had already gone, to the libraries in Cairo and Accra, in Lagos and Johannesburg, and more would go in the next few weeks; but there would still be enough to draw the mob. The people reading here were not so foolish as to expect a reprieve – for the library or for themselves.

8. Let’s Kill Uncle (1963)

by Rohan O’Grady

This was a weird little book – heaven help the innocent reader who thought they were picking up a mild children’s tale! Nothing innocent here; chock full of the darkest human flaws and emotions; the humour (of which there is a lot, all intentional) shades from gray to ebony black.

An orphaned 10 year-old-boy, a misleadingly frail 10-year-old girl, a one-eared outlaw cougar, and a very wicked uncle are the key characters of this exceedingly unusual tale set among te ferns and cedars of a British Columbia Gulf Island.

9. When the snow comes, they will take you away (1971)

by Eric Newby

We were captured off the east coast of Sicily on the morning of the twelfth of August, 1942, about four miles out of the Bay of Catania. It was a beautiful morning. As the sun rose I could see Etna, a truncated cone with a plume of smoke over it like the quill of a pen stuck in a pewter ink-pot, rising out of the haze to the north of where I was treading water.

British Special Forces officer Eric Newby’s autobiographical account of his WW II months in rural Italy after a submarine and kayak sabotage mission against a German airfield near Sicily went very wrong. A mass exodus from a prison camp was followed by a series of temporary hiding places as the Italian villagers and peasant-farmers hid, fed and assisted the British escapees as they sought to evade capture by German forces. Eric’s travels were complicated by a broken ankle, but greatly aided by a lovely Slovenian woman, Wanda, who became Eric’s wife after the war was over. An unusual and moving memoir.

10. The Complete Knowledge of Sally Fry (1983)

by Sylvia Murphy

Oh, what a fine kettle of fish is this very funny, poignant, sarcastic and exceedingly unusual story of Sally Fry: single mother, behavioural therapist and college lecturer. All she wants is to get her PhD thesis finished, but ex-lovers and the people all around her, most notably her family and their assorted hangers-on, keep derailing her precarious train of thought. There are dictionary-style autobiographical snippets throughout – absolutely marvelous. What a happy and most unexpected find.

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My World: Merry Christmas! Books were indeed received (though not as many as I’d hoped for…)

Posted in My World, tagged on December 25, 2012| 6 Comments »

… apparently some of the wish list books were elusive; a few were sold out at the local book shops we prefer to patronize over the online megastores, which is rather a good sign than otherwise, don’t you think? But we did collect a small pile.

Flyover_hardcover_final.indd

  • Flyover by Chris Harris – local aviation history and character portraits of some of our unique Cariboo-Chilcotin pilots, illustrated by absolutely stunning photos from a unique perspective over our special part of the world. Some of these people are friends, and my husband has been up in the air with them, so it is a nice personal read as well as a grand coffee table book to browse through.
  • Trappers and Trailblazers by Jack Boudreau – Northern Alberta and Interior B.C. historical anecdotes.
  • All Those Drawn to Me by Christian Petersen – short stories from yet another accomplished local author.
  • The Sweet Girl by Annabel Lyon – the sequel to The Golden Mean, which I liked a whole lot when I read it a month or so ago.
  •  The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater – last year’s The Scorpio Races was a hit here – carnivorous sea-dwelling horses – that was unexpected – so I was hoping for some more YA magic from this author, who seems to be finding her groove after some a-little-less-excellent earlier works (a werewolf trilogy and several books featuring scary fairies – yawn). I just powered through this one – my Christmas Day binge – and it was, hmmm … interesting. Cliffhanger ending – maddening. I hate series books, which this one obviously is. Aha – here it is on the spine, in tiny letters. The Raven Cycle – Book 1. Argh. (Quick review: It was pretty decent. Not as good as Scorpio Races, but miles better than the Shiver/Ballad/Lament ones.)
  • Days of Blood and Starlight by Laini Taylor – the sequel to last year’s it-was-everywhere  YA novel Daughter of Smoke and Bone. My daughter’s tackling this one today, and reports that the writing is ho-hum but the story is decently absorbing. Demons and angels and such, and an emotionally tormented heroine.
  • Not books, but faithful and handsomely produced Wodehouse adaptations – the complete Fry & Laurie Jeeves and Wooster series on dvd. We’d borrowed several from the library, and look forward to viewing the rest.
  • I’ve also been given a generous cash gift “to buy myself a treat”, so I’ve just spent a lovely afternoon interlude on ABE and have ordered five Margery Sharps I don’t yet have, all later works: The Innocents, The Lost Chapel Picnic, The Sun in Scorpio, Summer Visits, and In Pious Memory. When these arrive I will only be lacking Rosa and The Faithful Servants to complete my collection of Sharp’s twenty-six adult novels; I now have all of the early ones, including the über-rare first two books from the 1930 and 1932, Rhododendron Pie and Fanfare for Tin Trumpets. <pause for happy dance> Anyway, I’m counting them as Christmas books.

And that’s it. Not nearly as many as usual, but I can’t say I’m suffering, as I’ve been acquiring loads of promising titles this year, many of which I still need to read. An embarrassment of books, actually!

I hope everyone else has scored some good reads – I love seeing your lists!

Have a lovely Christmas and Boxing Day, everyone – hope you all are having an enjoyable holiday.

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My World: Dusting Books, Tidying Up, and Waiting

Posted in My World, tagged on December 18, 2012| 7 Comments »

O

Ah, blessed Christmas break. Saturday’s twelve hours of living-at-the-theatre marked the last dance obligation of 2012 – we reconvene in 2013 – dancers a mite sluggish after several weeks off (all those good intentions to keep up the daily barre slipping a bit as the holiday takes over) – the parent support team steeling themselves for the push of the fast-approaching festival season – so much driving, extra practices – “could you please come in on Sunday, we need to work on that choreo some more”, parental fixes – “Mom, I think I need new shoes …”, “what do you mean, your solo costume ‘just won’t work’?”, “where’s an icepack? heating pad? ankle brace? band-aid?”, “can you help me wrap my legs, I think I have shin splints”, “how long do you think it’ll take this toenail to grow back?”, “but I like dancing barefoot, that’s the best part of Modern, Mom!”, “one-two-three-four…”, “I can’t do it!!!”, “I want to try again, it’s okay, that didn’t really hurt that much”, “look, look, LOOK – WATCH ME … ” <crash> “I’m okay!”, “Actually, I think I pulled something… bruised something … tore something…”, “you know, we should get a hot tub, it would be good for me, I’d really like that … why are you looking at me with your eyebrows raised like that, Mom?”

Hours, days, weeks, months, years of lessons, practice and performance – this is year thirteen of being a dance parent, and though I’m always proud and frequently amazed at what my very surprising child has accomplished, the annual winter break is most welcome, thank you kindly.

Propped up in bed this morning, reminding myself happily that I don’t have to drive anybody anywhere today – hurray! – sipping my cup of tea and getting in a little early morning reading time – I rise, or at least click my light on, at 5 AM when my husband’s work-day alarm rings – I found myself smugly regarding the freshly dusted glass book shelves across the room. Every so often, maybe once a year, or perhaps twice if all goes well, the shelves are emptied into sliding heaps on the dressers and bed, and the shelves are taken away into the bathroom for a good scrub and polish. Each book is dusted, and put back in sorted stacks – each author’s titles are rounded up and reunited, and for a brief few days I feel downright organized, until the migration starts again, and new additions are added willy nilly to any open space.

The bedroom is neat and tidy, all ready for Christmas. Today I’m going to tackle the kitchen, to clean off the long counter under the window, wash the curtains, scrub everything down nicely, maybe even pull out the stove and do a deeper clean there if the spirit so moves me (and I don’t peter out), in preparation for a baking day tomorrow. Lebkuchen and pfefferneuse to remind me of my German heritage, shortbread for my husband, gingerbread for the teens, hazelnut crescents, perhaps …

My domestically-gifted German Mennonite mother would bake for weeks and weeks in November and December, filling tin after tin after tin with delectable seasonal morsels, to be doled out to eager children and boxed up into lavish gifts for friends, neighbours, the mail lady, anyone else who needed a little holiday treat … I’m afraid my own efforts are a pale shadow of what she used to do, but it wouldn’t be Christmas without a few of the old favourites, and tomorrow we’ll all be home together, and the others are more than keen to get this little-bit-late cookery show on the road.

Tonight we’ll learn if my husband will be working his next shift (and beyond); his workplace is under strike notice, with a deadline of 5 PM tonight for a tentative agreement, or the picket lines go up. It’s completely up in the air, no inkling of which way this will go, as the employer’s continued refrain is that they want a peaceful resolution, while the union negotiators mutter, “not good enough, not good enough…”

Yesterday many of the men were loading up their tool boxes in anticipation of a strike; my husband is leaving his right there, as are a few of his cronies, as a show of optimism that an agreement will ultimately be reached. Emotions and stress levels are high, waiting for word from “above”, and feeling helpless is awful for morale, but as the job is close to home, exceedingly well paid, and reasonably stress-free, with a good group of co-workers, we’re hoping we can wait things out until “normal” is restored. Or move on to the next thing, if that’s what is needed. In the meantime, Christmas is coming, and though this shadow is looming in our sky, we fully intend to enjoy our holiday in our usual quiet way – music, reading, visits with friends, good food and a little gentle exercise in the form of meandering family strolls through our snowy fields and hillside forest. Or down the road, anyway, if the snow is too deep!

I’ve been doing a bit of Christmas-themed reading, to try to work up a suitable mood, so there will be some reviews coming along. The profuse posting on the blog the last few days has been, in great part, because I can’t concentrate on much right now and the focus of thinking about books and typing out some sort of review has settled me down considerably. I also want to tidy up my 2012 “what I read” pile, so as to start the new year looking forward rather than back; we’ll see how that goes!

It’s all good, our “challenges” pale in comparison to the real hardships of so many around the world, and of course of those much closer to home as well.

I’m sure I’ll be posting again, but just in case the blog falls silent – and, if it does, it will likely be because I am busy elsewhere – if my husband does get a longer-than-planned-for holiday we have some major farm projects we are keen to tackle together – I’d like to wish everyone a peaceful and happy winter holiday – whichever it is that you celebrate. Hoping you are all finding time for good companionship, and of course, lots and lots of reading!

O

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My World: More Post Updates

Posted in My World, tagged on December 14, 2012| Leave a Comment »

Roadside Sunset - Alexandria - wWnter 2012

Note to subscribers – the post updates continue – fixing my tagging – you may be getting duplicate posts! Hoping to complete “housekeeping” soon so it’s all tidy for the new year.

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My World: You Just Never Know & All That Jazz

Posted in My World, tagged on December 13, 2012| 2 Comments »

DSC04258

This is turning into one of those slightly weird weeks.

On the kind-of down-side, the dancer missed her last major Christmas recital rehearsal today because of terrible roads. As the all-day performance (she’s in four concerts, as part of a competitive “touring” dance troupe) is on Saturday, and as there is still last-minute choreography going on, this caused some stress. No worries, I’m sure they’ll all pull it off, seasoned performance veterans that they are! She’ll be learning the missed bits moments before she hits the stage; keeps it interesting!

On the “oh, well, an unexpected day at home” up-side, we were all here together (rare-ish situation lately), so we went out into the snowstorm to hunt down a Christmas tree. Funny how our farm’s private forest of tiny perfect fir trees have grown so dramatically in the twenty-one years since our first expedition up the hill in December, to the point where it’s hard to find something small enough to fit in our low-ceilinged living room!

And on the really down-side, we’ve just found out that our family’s main pay cheque may be seriously disrupted; my husband’s workplace is unexpectedly under immediate strike notice as employee contract negotiations have hit a neither-side-wants-to-budge brick wall. As of December 18th he may have an unanticipated and not particularly well-timed “holiday”. Something we definitely never saw coming!

Fingers crossed that it gets sorted out.

Otherwise, life is pretty good. Just a wee bit surreal, thinking of alternate possibilities and coping strategies in case things do come crashing down, money-wise.

At least the tree is checked off the list!

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My World: Book People Are the Best!

Posted in My World, tagged , on December 10, 2012| 6 Comments »

Last week I read several reviews of Diana Tutton’s Guard Your Daughters; most, but not all, enthusiastically and favourably comparing it to Dodie Smith’s I Capture the Castle. Now I am not alone in believing there is a special warmth in the sun that shines on the Mortmain family as depicted in that tale, so anything that is compared to it attracts my immediate attention.

After reading Claire’s review on The Captive Reader blog, I commented to her on how much I would like to sample Guard Your Daughters for myself, and Claire, who has decided this one is not a “keeper” for her, immediately popped it in the mail to me. I found a parcel card in my box yesterday, and being Sunday, was unable to collect it as our postmistress had the parcel room locked up tight, but this afternoon my teenage son kindly drove the fifteen minutes back out to our small rural post office to pick it up for me. (He picked up a tub of ice cream, too, as our post office is a tiny room at the back of a small country general store, so it wasn’t completely a disinterested trip!)

My husband is away working a night shift this evening, so I will have no qualms about retiring to bed and reading as late as I want without worrying about the light shining in his eyes. Actually, I think I might bow out early, to give my full attention to the task at hand. Will I love this one, or be disappointed? Either way, I am looking forward with great anticipation to finding out.

Thank you, Claire! An early Christmas present, indeed. A review shall follow post haste.

Book People are The Best!

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My World: Canada Reads 2013

Posted in Canadian Book Challenge #6, Contemporary Fiction, My World, tagged , , , , , , , on November 30, 2012| 2 Comments »

canada-reads-2013-panelists-books

Last night, with great self-congratulatory brouhaha, CBC Radio host Jian Ghomeshi introduced the Canada Reads 2013 Shortlist and celebrity panelists. This is an event I’ve watched (well, more accurately, listened to) with mild interest the last few years, but never really embraced.

I confess that I am in general deeply cynical about prizes awarded by popular vote, which is the whole premise of this literary “event”, but this year the shortlist picks seem more intriguing to me than some in the past, so I’ve set myself a personal goal of reading and reviewing all five of them. This will also tie in nicely with my participation in 6th Annual Canadian Book Challenge , hosted by John Mutford of The Book Mine Set .

I may also explore among the picks in the Long List, though I have no intentions of reading all of them. We’ll see what happens. This list will find a home in my library bag, for those days when inspiration needs a little push. I’ve already read a few (a very few) of the picks, though mostly before this blog materialized. I may re-read and review. Or not! Leaving myself wide open here.

This year Canada Reads has a regional theme, which doesn’t really work in my opinion, as there are only five extremely broad regions and geographically and philosophically I think there is more variance in truly regional Canadian literature than these limited categories allow. But no one asked me, so I guess I need to go with it.

Here’s our Long List:

B.C. & Yukon:

The Prairies and North:

Ontario:

Quebec:

Atlantic Canada:

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My World: Housekeeping Alert – Duplicate Posts May Be Coming!

Posted in My World, tagged on November 26, 2012| 4 Comments »

Greetings, faithful blog followers. It has ocurred to me, now that this blog has become a part of my life and I feel no urge to quit on it just yet, that I should tag my posts with the year I read the books, what with a whole new year coming up and all.

I’m not sure if retagging/editing posts sends them back out into the world to those of you subscribed via email, but if it does, just a heads up that you might be getting lots of duplicate posts. I think I will start at the beginning with my edits, so if these do start to come your way, just delete as the spirit moves you.

(Didn’t want anyone to think that I am hitting a super-productive streak or anything!)

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My World: November 11, 2012 ~ On the road.

Posted in 2010s, My World, tagged , , on November 11, 2012| 4 Comments »

I’ve been on a lightning trip to the coast to take the dancer to choreography sessions and to pick up pointe shoes and other arcane neccessities. It was an enjoyable and productive – if rather rushed – excursion, but I’m glad to be back home.

A few glimpses from the side of the road on the trip home today.

A frozen waterfall in the Fraser Canyon near Boston Bar; snow-dusted hills above Lytton; sagebrush above the Thompson River south of Ashcroft.

I would have liked to have stopped more often and taken many more photos. It was a beautiful day to be out and about –  the roads were quiet and the light was lovely – but dark comes quickly this time of year and we just made it home as dusk deepened into night as it was.

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