Curiosities: Delightful

So you have to trust me that it’s worth getting into Anne Flemming’s Curiosities. You’re going to start it and think ‘this reading old english-style spelling is too annoying’ or ‘the narrator as archivist is a bit of a gimmick’ but then! It’s going to be so great. You’ll get to romp through the plague, and arctic exploration/starvation, and witch trials, and romance – and you’re going to be rewarded with a fantastic love story OR WAIT fantastic love stories that offer the wide range of ways people love and are loved.

Past-Erin who geeked out endlessly historical fiction surfaced throughout reading Curiosities imagining what a fun addition this could be to any seminar on the genre for its playful engagement with the making of history. Read in that genre it does the usual work of acknowledging the limits of the historical record, the ways we have to interpret scraps to piece together a full picture, the way perspective of the writer limits what and how something is told (and who gets full voice).

Celebrated among reviewers for its exploration of sexual and gender identity, I found this part of the book a welcome inclusion but as a background to other questions about care, community, and – yes- curiosity.

So please – put aside your initial irritation at having to Really Focus on the reading (cough, clearly some self-reflection here) and enjoy.

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Filed under Book Club, Canadian Literature, Fiction, Giller prize, Governor Generals, Historical Fiction, Prize Winner

Dream State: Strong start and then

I made a mistake in telling a few friends to read Eric Puchner’s Dream State when I was only a third of the way in. It’s such a strong start – evocative writing, a pulling theme (how does one major decision or one major event shape the rest of your life?), interesting characters. Set amid the present and near future of climate catastrophe to make the aging of the characters over the course of the novel vivid against what can feel in our incremental experience of time unnoticed in the sharp changes for the reader between decades for a glacier or a lake or an endangered species.

And it’s not like the writing changed – the scene on the mountain with Elias is haunting and beautiful – it’s more I lost conviction that I knew why any of the characters were making any of their decisions. I suspect it’s a form thing – with the big jumps in time (with the exception of one incredible passage where the two children age together over summers over the course of the passage and the reader feels the slipperiness of time in the verb tenses and the dialogue) happen between chapters the reader is given snapshot moments to make sense of Big character decisions, and honestly, so much happens ‘off stage’ that it’s hard to believe the impact of those decisions on the characters and how they behave next. We have to take it on the faith of third person narration that yes, indeed, Garret and Cece still love on another because that’s what a long marriage means? I guess?

So sorry to M. and K. for forcefully recommending this one before reaching the end. If you haven’t yet started it, I’d say it would be a fine beach read, but not something I’d interrupt a year of comic book reading to go out and get.

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Filed under American literature, Book I'll Forget I Read, Fiction

Mother Daughter Murder Night: So Silly

Honestly. Just so ridiculous. Nina Simons’ Mother Daughter Murder Night imagine a grandmother on chemo, a working mom and a teenage girl as the intrepid detectives that will solve a murder in a sleepy seaside town. Because the well qualified female police officer is bossed around by her mansplaining partner and so can’t pursue the leads she know she should? And because somehow the crew of ill-qualified women are just able to find key evidence, interview witnesses and locate unexpected This and That. Were it not for the fact that it was an audiobook and I was batch cooking endless soups (#winteriscoming) and couldn’t be bothered to turn it off, I would have absolutely thrown it out a window. Do not bother! Despite how catchy the back of the book makes it sound or how tempted you are by Strong Women Doing Things.

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Filed under Mystery, Worst Books

Hotline: A call to listen.

Dimitri Nasrallah’s Hotline does so much in a compact form. Following Muna Heddad after she immigrates with her young son to Montreal from Lebanon in the late 80s, we experience with her the frustration of not being able to find work in the field she is trained (and was promised would be of value to her immigration application) as a french teacher, the brutality of banal racism (there’s a scene with her son’s teacher that staggers) and the entirely empathetic feeling of being a mom and being sure what you are doing is not enough for your kid.

The stories she relays from working in the weight loss call center are tremendous. As much as they are also a vivid example of the kind of empathy the novel argues for: listen to people. Listen to what they’re saying and pretend for a minute that you care about their lives and imagine how what is happening in their lives might be shaping what is or isn’t possible for them to do. And, of course, what the novel is itself an exercise in – a story of a woman who repeatedly points out how white people ignore her, don’t see her, don’t listen to her. So read the book and listen to the story.

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Filed under Canadian Literature, Fiction