Here and Everything In It

What Do A Circus Elephant, A Death Match, Hermaphroditism, And A Love Story All Have In Common?

They're all things that've happened in the books I've read recently!

Here's a brief look at my recent literary pursuits (as usual, if you click on the images, I've linked them to online booksellers):

Sara Gruen's Depression-era novel about a traveling circus wasn't something I'd ever intended to read. Books about animals are the worst for me, because, inevitably, for the sake of drama, these animals are usually mistreated and generally I avoid detailed depictions of this so that I don't cry. BUT, as my friend Sara told me, it's ok to read this book because the animals get their revenge in the end. And it's so true.

The movie version of this story seems to be marketing itself as mainly a romance between the two leads (played by Robert Pattinson and Reese Witherspoon -- squee!), and though the romance is a big part of the novel, there's so much else going on -- with the animals, the circus employees, the male protagonist's emotional journey -- that it's kind of unfair to make it all about a love story.

Water for Elephants is definitely a great read. In fact, I'd hazard to say it's now one of my favourite books.

If you've spoken to Brad in the last year or so, you'll know that Ken Wilber is his hero. I can't tell you how many conversations we've have that've ended (or begun) with Brad saying something along the lines of "well, that's not what Ken Wilber says ... ." So, in order to have an opinion in these decidedly one-sided debates, I've done a little Wilber reading myself.

Grace and Grit is the real-life account of Wilber coping with the illness and ultimate death of his wife, Treya. Interspersed with his story are journal entries from Treya, as well as snippets of the philosophy and beliefs he uses to deal with and understand her cancer.

It's a good introduction to Wilberism, but it's also got enormous doses of reality and love which make it a really good read.  Since I'm no longer teaching teenagers, I can't use that as an excuse to read teen fiction anymore. I'm not preparing for any classes, or attempting to be "up" on what the kids are reading these days; so I'll just have to be honest: sometimes, burning through teen novels is exactly the brainless, detached kind of reading I like.

So, I liked The Hunger Games trilogy (yeah, that's right! I said it!). I mean, sometimes the writing was a little, er, ploddy, but the characters were inventive, and it ultimately fulfilled all the requirements of the post-decline-of-civilization-type story that seems to be a part of the collective consciousness lately.

There were no zombies, but there were genetically modified mutants, which are admittedly not as good, but they sufficed.

The story follows a young girl who's been relegated to the coal-mining district in a post-apocalyptic North America that's been divided into twelve sections to provide the basic amenities for the decadent, oblivious inhabitants of the Capitol (what? Just go with me, here). Every year, in punishment for a previous uprising, a lottery is held and two teenagers are chosen from each district to compete in a death match that's televised for the entertainment of all (but mostly just the Capitol residents, who've effectively desensitized themselves from the inhumanity of the competition).

Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery," current reality TV, and our growing focus on the superficial elements in life are all strongly evoked in this series, but I guess all those connections are what make it so interesting to read.

I was given Annabel as a gift, and am so happy I had the opportunity to read it. It follows the story of an East Coast hermaphrodite who's raised as a boy by his understanding mother and less than understanding father. When the boy reaches puberty and suddenly starts experiencing life as a budding young woman, questions of identity and loyalty are brought to light as he decides who he is meant to be.

It's also beautifully written, with the kind of poetic pose that keeps the reader suspended in the moment.  I recommend this book highly.

Sex, Drugs, Ghosts, Cadavers, And Also Some Farm Animals

... are all topics thoroughly explored in the most recent books I've read, and should you harbour a passing interest in any of these things, I've written a little bit of information about each book below (and, just like before, you can totally click on the images and be taken to internet booksellers for each particular book. You're welcome):

First of all, Mary Roach:

I'd been eyeing these three books up for a while, but had to wait until they became available in Canada to download onto my ebook (one of the distinct annoyances of digital books). Basically, Roach is a researcher who arms herself with an excellent library and archives pass, real-life interviews, and a funny bone to find scientific answers to some big questions. In Spook, she looks for evidence of an afterlife to determine whether or not she should believe in ghosts and the existence of a consciousness separate from the body. Bonk looks at the science of sex, more from a historical point of view, really, as Roach identifies the different ways people in history have attempted to understand the biology of sex and reproduction (like, more recently, scientists asking volunteers to have sex in an MRI machine, just to see what happens).

Stiff, a look at what happens to human cadavers in the hands of nature and society, was my favourite of the three. I thought it flowed better, and was easier to follow (granted, I read most of these in half-asleep stupors in the early hours of the morning while rocking Innis to sleep, but Roach interviews and references a lot of people for her books and tends to drop their names throughout the texts well after she's featured them without any reminder of who they are and why they apply to the new chapter or topic, and this can get a little confusing). I also liked this one the best because it's abjectly gruesome, and for me, the most eye-opening. I mean, I knew about mediums and sex surveys before I read Spook and Bonk, but I didn't know that there are actual university programs that leave donated bodies exposed to the elements in the backyards of forensic biology departments just to see how people decompose (they do! And the reasearchers visit the bodies on a regular schedule to chart the breakdown process! And apparently, the stench of human decomposition is the most stubborn smell and it will stick to your clothes for days after your dead person visit, especially if you accidentally step in the, er, effluvia).

My favourite thing about these books is that Roach sometimes has the sense of humour of a fourth grader, and also asks the (often uptight) specialists really funny questions that we all want the answers to but wouldn't have the guts to ask ourselves.

 This was actually a surprisingly good book, even though it's an autobiography perhaps capitalizing on this particular celebrity's newfound North American fame. You know that movie, Get Him To The Greek? Basically that's the film version of Russell Brand's life (and thus this book), prior to him getting sober. And, as you'll see if you read reviews (and for which everyone's rather surprised) Brand can actually write, even if he uses a somewhat ostentatious British vocabulary at times (kind of like when people use the word "ostentatious" in their blog posts ... )

My favourite part was learning that Brand is actually an animal lover, which sort of, in my mind, means he can do very little wrong.

And also? He called his book My Booky Wook. WIN.

I love David Sedaris. I think I've read everything he's published. He is HILARIOUS.

So when this book came out, I was intrigued. A book of animal stories, you say? How could they not be ridiculously entertaining?

But I was sort of disappointed. These parables lack the humourous clout of his other short stories; I don't know, they're mostly political and cynical -- the animal characters are petty stand-ins acting out various scenarios that show why certain people in our society drive us nuts (ha). This book is sort of a giant slam of self-righteousness, but with none of the situational humour Sedaris excels at to lighten the mood at any point.

Sedaris has a bone (or several) to pick, and uses his animals to thinly disguise an angry rant against judgmental, know-nothing-know-it-alls, which isn't a bad thing, it's just maybe not what you're looking for if you want to laugh like you'd expect to if you picked up one of his books.

Hands Captive

So, having a newborn baby means lots of sitting. Sitting to rock him to sleep, sitting to feed him, sitting to soothe him when earth shattering events plague his life (gas! dog barks! self-inflicted face punches!); thus, I've been spending a lot of time on the couch, in bed, and sometimes, if I'm lucky and Innis is feeling particularly pliable, in the chair in front of the computer.

But even though I can't type or knit while holding Innis -- because he's a chubby bunny and needs two-handed support -- and we don't have cable (and I've exhausted our digital movie/tv show files), I can sort of prop books up next to me (easier with the e-book) and, while juggling the bebe, sneak a finger out every once in a while to turn pages. 

So here are the books I've most recently read (and if you click on the pictures, they'll link you to where you can buy the books online ... ooh technology! And also: yes, I'm a book pusher):

Brad picked this up in Yellowknife when we were there to have Innis, and after he said it was the best piece of fiction he's read in a really long time, I decided to give it a go. Initially, I was a little dubious about the book's quality since its author is a cohost on The Fifth Estate, but I ended up being surprised at the subtletly and skill of this novel.

The Bishop's Man is about a Catholic Priest, known as the Excorcist, who's responsible for disciplining the sexual offenders within the Church. He does this for most of his life, and then, at age fifty, he's sent to his own parish in a small town where he gets to see firsthand the effects of the Church's treatment of his errant brethren.

I liked this book because it paints the main character as a real person, with real flaws and problems, and contrasts that against the public's perception of priests as infallible servants to the community's needs. He's a human being, reacting to not only a highly-pressurized situation but also to the isolation that comes along with his calling.

It's interesting and controversial, and it offers a perspective not often found in today's mainstream literature.

***

This is another Brad-inspired selection. I was at the kids' book fair at school last year and I ended up picking this one up for the hubs because I knew he'd enjoyed Tuesdays With Morrie (by the same author). And for me? I took home a book on learning how to do magic tricks (score!).

Anyway, this book follows the story of a down-and-out character named Chick as he recounts the stupid mistakes he made after he was emotionally crippled by the death of his mother. It's kind of like a bad country song -- he loses his wife, his house, his job ... you know. When Chick's own daughter doesn't invite him to her wedding because he's such an embarrassment, he really hits the bottom of the barrel and decides to kill himself.

After he throws himself off a water tower, we're then brought along when, as if by magic, Chick's transported to spend one last day with his mum, where, presumably, he'll be able to set everything that's wrong in his life back to right.

Though it waxes a bit nostalgic at times and doggedly packs the morality punch that seems to be the theme of all Albom's books, it's still an entertaining read, it's short, and it may just make us all live more in the moment and be nicer to our mothers.

***

I read Lamb enroute to Costa Rica last spring and thought that it was rather clever, and after my ebook got fixed (thank you Brad -- and no thanks to you, evil Sony corporation), I decided to download another selection by the same author.

I like Christopher Moore. He writes how silly, self-deprecating people think. In this case, we find Charlie, the self-proclaimed "beta-male" main character, struggling with the recent death of his wife and the care of his newborn daughter. Through a series of strange encounters and a mysterious book he never actually lays his eyes on until the middle of the novel, we (and he) discover that Charlie's actually become a "Death Merchant," someone responsible for collecting the souls of the recently departed (which are stored in regular material goods like necklaces, sculptures, and even breast implants until he arrives for pick up). We then find out that Charlie, among the other Death Merchants, is (of course) in a race against time before the Powers of Darkness claim the missing/lost souls waiting to be collected and rise from the Underworld in an effort to (presumably) overtake humanity.

It's a funny book, irreverent and witty, and even though I think I liked Lamb marginally more, it's still a great read.

***

Ok, so I haven't read any of the other books except the first one, but Brad picked this up in Costa Rica (it was on the shelf in our hotel room) and said it was more grown-uppy than the others -- more serious -- so when we bought our own copy after we came home so Brad could finish the book, I started to read it too.

Does anyone else see a patten in my reading habits? I wonder when the bookworm (me) started to follow the reading suggestions of the boy she met in high school who wouldn't read a novel if his life depended on it. Funny how things change.

Anyway, I liked it. The characters are older, darker, and the book wasn't so inaccessible because I hadn't read the others -- the movies sufficed to fill me in on the background info -- there were only a few references that I had no idea about, but these were eventually explained or turned out to be unimportant to the main storyline.

This time around (though I only have the first book for comparison), the characters had more depth; sometimes even the good guys did not-so-good things, and it made them more believable (well, as believable as teenaged witches and wizards can be, that is). Also, the predictable ending to the series wasn't all that predictable (spoiler alert: the good guys win) because there were some interesting twists to the storyline that kept things fresh right up to the end.

Enjoy!

Environmental Terrorism, Death Threats And Genetic Anomalies

One of the first things Brad and I did after we got settled in a week and a half ago was peruse our cottage’s book selection. Choosing from amongst a variety of Philippa Gregory novels and the Encyclopaedia Britannica, 1972 Edition, we both picked up (and read – one after another) John Vaillant's The Golden Spruce – a non-fiction book a la Krakauer’s Into the Wild – about a disgruntled former logger named Grant Hadwin who deliberately cut down a three hundred year old Sitka Spruce near Port Clements on the Queen Charlotte Islands to protest the rampant logging of old growth forest on the Islands and mainland BC. The tree was reserved by the logging company that owned rights to the land it grew on because it had the rare genetic disposition of growing golden needles as well as great cultural significance for the local Haida people. Not to mention, it attracted tourists to Port Clements in droves.

(this is where the tree used to live)

Hadwin’s point in cutting down the tree was that people had been too easily convinced to accept so little from big business logging in return for a clear environmental conscience; by attaching so much significance to this odd specimen (this “pet tree”) and ignoring the devastation that logging companies had wrought on the surrounding old growth forests (full of trees older and bigger than the Golden Spruce), people were selling out, acting like hypocrites, turning a blind eye to reality, and not seeing the forest (or lack thereof) for the tree.

Maybe cutting it down wasn’t the best way to protest, but I see Hadwin’s point. In an interview after he cut it down, he seemed to imply that had he known about the cultural significance of the tree, he wouldn’t have destroyed it. 

(as a side note, the home of the Golden Spruce also sported another genetic anomaly: an albino raven. Unfortunately, the White Raven died shortly after the spruce was cut down (he was electrocuted by power lines), so the crazy gene factor in Port Clements went from two to zero in a matter of months, even though the raven still got stuffed and put into the local museum):

Anyway, we went out yesterday to see the hewn spruce, which is in fact still just where it fell (according to the book ... and Brad thinks the fallen tree in the bottom right corner of the first picture is the tree itself), even though there were some proposed plans to carve it into a big totem pole, or divide it up amongst the Haida tribes on the Islands so each group could make their piece into representative art ... but the different groups never came to an agreement, so the tree stayed where it fell thirteen years ago, and now the wood’s rotted beyond use.

But some thinkers took some cuttings from the tree before it fully died and grafted saplings, one of which is now growing in the churchyard in Port Clements, surrounded by a eight foot chain link fence topped with barbed wire.

You know, so that people can enjoy nature.

The plot thickens, though. Five days before he was to appear at his court hearing in Masset (on Graham Island in the Queen Charlotte’s), Hadwin set out to kayak from mainland BC to the Islands via the Hecate Strait. But he never actually showed up in court, and even though his kayak and camping gear “washed up” on an Alaskan island some time later, there were suspicions that these belongings were placed by Hadwin himself to look as though he’d been lost at sea. Some think that, faced with the death threats and open hostility coming from the Islanders, Hadwin decided to pull a runner instead of putting himself into the hands of an angry and vengeful courtroom audience. He hasn’t been located or heard from since his disappearance. 

So, who says Canada has no intriguing mysteries!? Let’s just hope the Canadian Film Board doesn’t get its hands on it and wreck it with quaint accents, crappy acting and a melodramatic “Canadian” score. Well, only if they can convince Tom Cruise to play Hadwin’s role, because then Brad would be in heaven.

Addictive Personality: Confirmed

I'll admit, I've been a book snob. It's taken me a full three years to get over the antipathy toward popular fiction I developed throughout my English degrees (it got to the point where I wouldn't even pick up a book unless I knew it was earth-shattering, masterfully written or a work of genius -- I figure, I had so little time to read for fun, I wanted to be damn sure the book was worth it).

So what has been the key to my emergence from this literary superiority complex? Nothing more than my E-book reader. All of a sudden, I don't have to worry about what I must look like to similarly-minded book connoisseurs, since the cover of any book I'm currently reading is always the same tan leather. And in addition,  I don't have to look at the cover, so my snobbery is somewhat subdued. Who knows if I'm reading some chuck from the New York Times' Best Seller list? I could be reading V.C. Andrews or James Joyce. It's reading freedom for the intellectually dishonest, folks.

So, enter my addiction: the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer. I've consumed all four books in the last week and a half. Brad actually started complaining that I never spoke anymore (sign of the apocalypse?). But it's true. Every waking hour that was not consumed with personal maintenance or my job, I had my nose stuck in my reader, flicking through nearly 4000 pages of digital text in just under nine days.

I'm not quite sure what drew me in so strongly. At times, it wasn't even the (sometimes) irritating main character that kept me interested ... I think what I really loved were the neat details that described the way in which mythological creatures would live in modern times.

The series is also a love triangle between a human, a werewolf and a vampire. What could possibly be lacking??!

I feel like a sixteen year old. God help me.

Reading is the New Pink

My first reactions when I noticed that some of you have been perusing my books category:

1. I have a books category?!
2. Oh yeah, right. Teachers' college.
3. Holy shit, this is embarrassingly outdated.

So, update I will.
(ahem)

Books I Have Read/Started to Read Recently and Would Like to Recommend:

1. Haunted, by Chuck Palahniuk (yes, another Palahniuk book. I can't help it). This is by far the raunchiest book I've read in recent memory. No. This is the raunchiest book I've read. Proof? Topics of exploration include having one's intestines sucked out of one's anus by a pool filter, losing one's lips to frostbite ("Her lips are only the ragged edge of her skin,/ greased red with lipstick. Her teeth, inside:/ the yellow ghost of every cup of coffee,/ and every cigarette in her middle-aged life"), and having one's legs gnawed off by a pack of wolves after having partially boiled oneself alive in a hot spring. And it gets worse. The best parts of this book are, by far, borne from its originality and no-holds-barred approach.

It is not for the queasy or faint of heart. In the afterword, Palahniuk recounts his experiences while reading "Guts" (one of the novel's short stories) at book promos. He kept count, and by the time he finished his tour, 73 audience members had fainted from the sheer grotesqueness of his work before this particular story's end.

Also, the cover is glow-in-the-dark (Bonus!)

2. The Wind-Up Bird Chronicles, by Haruki Murakami. An interesting story of a 30-odd year-old Japanese man who quits his boring, dead-end errand boy job to spend time wandering throughout his neighbourhood searching for his runaway cat and picking up his wife's dry cleaning. At least, that's how it starts. Then it goes on this zigzaggy ride of mysticism, WWII history, the politics of power/control, marriage roles and expectations, and the relationships the main character forms as he seems to develop a better idea of himself by just being (and sometimes being in the bottom of a dry well). I'm only about a third of the way in (I got distracted by Haunted). I'll pick it up again, soon. Claire wouldn't forgive me if I didn't, since she's the one who lent it to me in the first place.

3. The Diviners, by Margaret Laurence. I know. An oldie ... but goodie? I'm not sure yet. Truth is, I was feeling guilty about not having read it (the same reason I've picked up Margaret Atwood over the last few years). I'm not sure where this guilt comes from. It's not like I'm exhausting the Catharine Parr Trail and Stephen Leacock libraries, either.

Anyway. I like the main character, Hagar Gunn. She is realistically awkward and doesn't seem to have any time for bullshit (except, in the part I'm reading right now, she's being painfully obliging to her new older, wiser, Professor of English Husband. But I'm hoping this obsequiousness will pass). The book alternates between present-day musings of old, lonely Hagar (boo-oorrring) and the much more interesting flashbacks of her youthful escape from the grinding poverty of her adoptive parents and the cruel judgement of a small-minded prairie town.

Me and Chuck and Kurt, We're Like This Now*

I'm not reading the books that were on my Books I'm Reading list anymore. Mostly because they're packed in boxes somewhere, but also because during the last two visits I had with Sara, she gave me books to read. I swear, the girl is a library. A very good library. Still, I also went to the regular (and far less cool) library and picked up a how to learn German in eight ninety minute sessions audio cassette thing, and a couple books on horse care. So I'll be busy enough without Will Self and Elizabeth Wurtzel.

The book I just finished reading is Chuck Palahniuk's Choke, which is about a sex-addict in his mid-twenties who also has a bit of an oedipal complex (though the two compulsions never manifest in combination, thank God) who also thrives on the attention he can get from people who need him. He sets up scams so that he can both pay for the expensive nursing home in which his abusive and psychotic mother lives ($3000/month) and also satisfy his attention addiction. My favourite scene in the novel involves a lot of chocolate pudding and a severe Jesus Christ complex. I read Palahniuk's Lullaby a long time ago, but I think I like Choke better.  Palahniuk does a really good job of making an almost despicable character likeable and (almost) understood. Oh, but, if deformed chickens make you squirm, be warned.

I'm moving on to Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five (I'd put a link here but I don't want to have to read the review and spoil the book for myself. So selfish). So far the first page looks good. I like WWII. So, my reading list has been updated. Now I'm going back to bed.

*My title makes more sense if you picture me, with a very sincere look on my face, crossing the index and middle finger of my right hand when I say "this."

There's a Reading List On Here Now?

Right. So. Below, you will find a list of books that I have been struggling through over the last year. I am hoping that as I have now made this selection public, I will be greatly motivated to actually read them.  Nothing against the books, of course.  I just haven't been able to really read anything other than the various Cosmos at the gym or the teaching theory texts from school over the last few months and I am feeling starved for a GOOD READ.  Granted, there was Life of Pi (hey, can I put that on my list even though I've finished it? I say: yes), but that was for teaching, and therefore does not count as extracurricular reading.  And these books...well, I bought and borrowed them with EVERY good intention (thank you Jerome), but I JUST CAN'T GET INTO THEM. I'm trying so hard! But even the fact that there's a movie out with Christina Ricci in it as Prozac Nation's protagonist hasn't been able to spark my interest. Still, I feel like I should give each book just ten more pages, and then ten more, and then by that time I hope that I will be hooked simply because I want my money's worth and do not want to look like a tasteless fool in front of the person who recommended Self's book in the first place (again, thanks Jerome).  Is that good enough justification? Probably not. Which is why I have now posted the proof of my procrastination for the whole wide world to see (ha) in order to give myself a literary kick in the ass.  The perfect bindings, the non-dog-eared pages, the smoothe, unwrinkled covers...THEY ARE MOCKING ME. I made it through Don Quixote, didn't I? (well, almost). I can take on Wurtzel and Self, no problem.  THIS IS CHRISTMAS VACATION, DAMMIT! I NEED SOME RELAXING READING TIME!!!!!!!
Note to Jerome: Don't worry, I won't abuse your book. Only mine.