Crazy Rich Asians: Cinderella Wears All the Diamonds

It’s hard to read a book like Crazy Rich Asians while living a decidedly middle class life. It’s probably harder still if you’re not the beneficiary of a defined benefits pension plan and in a unionized position like I am. The book sets out to be fun [insert jazz hands]! To introduce the west to contemporary Asia! To put displays of excess on the page for ogling. Because if you can’t have your own billion dollars, the next best thing must be to read about it, right? Continue reading

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Filed under Bestseller, Book Club, Fiction

Saints, Unexpected: Even Hamilton Couldn’t Make it Good

We read Brent van Staalduinen’s Saints, Unexpected for book club, and if it hadn’t been a book club read I likely wouldn’t have finished it. I’m loathe to write a negative review for a book that is so obviously earnest: written by a local author, published by a small press, in every way a book that wears its heart on its cover. So it gives me no pleasure to report that it is… not good. Continue reading

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Filed under Book I'll Forget I Read, Canadian Literature, Fiction

Everything Happens for a Reason (And Other Lies I’ve Loved): Send me suggestions about death and dying

I continue to obsess about death. The unanticipated consequence of happiness coupled with atheism means I’m a moth to the flame of books contemplating how it all just… ends. I suppose the current preoccupation has encouraged me to be more mindful, more present, more enthusiastically here (!) for (!) each (!) moment (!). But I’m pretty sure the return to work and increasing size in diapers would do the same with less morbidity. All this to say, I’ve read another book about dying, and in keeping with everything else I’ve read in this (hitherto unknown to me) genre, it was great. Continue reading

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Filed under Non-fiction

Bel Canto: I may be tone deaf, but I know good writing.

The only thing I remember from first year English is a lecture that argued that all creative writing (whether poetry or prose) is about the urge by authors to create something which will outlast them. That every poem or story is, in the end, a valiant gesture toward immortality. And that readers should read with an eye to the way the author intentionally and accidentally imbues their work with this impulse; that is, that the discerning reader will always be able to find evidence of the author’s vanity, of their arrogance in thinking their work will endure. At the time I found the argument moving and persuasive. Since then I think back on it more as an example of excellent teaching, it was a well paced lecture with convincing examples and analysis. Which isn’t to say I now thinking writing isn’t about immortality, just that I haven’t had cause to declare an allegiance in the great What is Writing For debate of humanity.  Continue reading

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Filed under American literature, Fiction, Orange Prize