Tag Archives: time

Saving Time: Read it before the new year?

I came to Jenny Odell’s Saving Time after reading Teaching Where You Are with my team. Teaching Where You Are had arguments about slow pedagogy and the relentless pace of post-secondary work that I found a useful reminder both of colonial efforts to organize time for Productivity and Efficiency. Around the same time I heard Odell on a podcast and so picked up Saving Time.

It is – perhaps with purpose – a slow read. There’s a lot of referencing other things and then referencing of the text itself and a sort of spiralling of the ideas on top of one another. I came away though having a renewed understanding that the constant experience of fast- short- not-enough time that I live in is a consequence of capital and gender, and that my temporal existence is eased by my race and class and that time, too, can be weaponized in arguments of more efficiency, more productivity, who gets to ‘afford’ leisure and under whose time crush that leisure comes.

The idea that women experience the press of time differently wasn’t a new idea to me – I could haven’t passed first year women’s studies without an awareness of the free domestic and emotional labour extracted – but there was a fresh pierce to it in my current reading moment, even as I reflected on the privilege I hold paying for childcare when I need it.

Perhaps the freshest idea for me – and in some ways the most terrifying and comforting – was the reminder of the excess boundaries of planetary time that are not concerned with the whisper of a moment of my life – and certainly not whether I get the laundry folded today, or a report filed that no one was going to read anyway. And with that length the existential angst and terror of our unfolding climate catastrophe a reminder from Odell that the future is long, too, and we might still write parts of it.

So in a year when the argument of AI has been More, Faster, Efficient, More, Faster, Productivity – alongside the worrisome avoidance of any conversation about the environmental cost of doing so – I’d recommend Saving Time (and yes, read that both ways – both hoarding your time for later, and that it is time to save the planet) for your 2026 first read.

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Filed under Non-fiction, Prize Winner

The Invisible Life of Addie Le Rue: Improbable, Excessive Adjectives and Many Smoky Eyes

People on Goodreads really like V.E. Schwab’s The Invisible Life of Addie Le Rue and so do all the readers that kept it on the bestseller list for ages. I do not. Heretic!

Sure it has some of the vibes of The Time Travellers Wife (which against my better judgement I loved) and a little bit of The Shadow of the Wind in that the devil features alongside used bookshops, but despite these cousins in delightful bath reads, this one is a dud.

Following Addie Le Rue after she makes an ill-advised deal with the devil for “freedom” but finds herself cursed to live forever without ever being remembered by anyone (making it impossible to do all sorts of practical things like earn money or have an apartment or write things down – all these petty annoyances catalogued over hundreds of dull pages), the novel is something of a romance when Addie meets the also-cursed Henry and falls in love (Henry’s curse is for anyone who meets him to fall in love with him – which doesn’t sound so bad if you ask me). Then we have to spend several hundred pages attentive to whether Addie will find a way to convince the devil who BY THE WAY has become her lover over the past three hundred years (which doesn’t seem nearly long enough for the eternal being of the dark, but quibbles) to let Henry go.

No, the most annoying part? Like all these sorts of epics – let’s call The Hundred Year Old Man syndrome – Addie finds herself in altogether too many improbable historically significant moments and meeting altogether too many historically significant people. I mean she’s only three hundred years old. There aren’t that many wars and revolutions and discoveries and Moments in 300 years and yet she finds herself in the middle of all of them. Literally hanging out at the cafes with Voltaire and then watching Franz Ferdinand get shot – though strangely quiet all through the Depression.

I know this is not a book premised on being believable, and surely there has to be a way to keep a reader engaged through 300 borning years of history that are otherwise just her waiting for her annual date with the devil and for her eventual meeting with Henry. But – stick with me – let me suggest then that this would be much better rewritten as a short story, or maybe a 200 page novel with a couple of choice historical scenes. As it is… bloated and boring.

And this reader wanted to like it for its faintly feminist whisper at the outset of a 17th century woman not wanting to marry and have children. But the of course, we couldn’t have this be a Good Romance without having her give it all up three hundred years later for a man – with bewitching green eyes and rumpled bedsheets. GROSS. (not that I have anything against green eyes, per se, but you get what I mean).

Oh – final point of complaint. It is the kind of writing that finds the only way to describe something is to describe it with three adjectives – always. Like the air is always moist, dank and dreary. And Henry is always charming, witty and kind. Enough!

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Filed under Bestseller, Fiction, Worst Books

An Ocean of Minutes: Time Traveling Romance

So if you loved The Time Travellers Wife, you’ll probably enjoy Thea Lim’s An Ocean of Minutes, which is probably the last thing Lim wants me to write, and I’m sorry for saying it. Because they’re very different books. This one is beautifully written, with complex characters and a compelling plot: our protagonists are separated in time when Polly jumps to the future in a gamble to save her lover, Frank, from dying of a pandemic flu. The post-apocalypse future of life after the flu is as disturbing as it is resonant.

But the overarching romance of their relationship, the way the mechanics of time and time travel play in to their relationship, the urgency of their reunion, and the gender politics of a woman waiting – forever waiting – to be reunited with her man – echo strongly with the best-known time travel novel.

That said, whether you’ve read Time Travellers or not, or have no opinions about time travel, I’d recommend this read. It’s not like The Best thing I’ve read, but it’s a solid bet and you could do worse for first books for 2019.

[SPOILER FOLLOWS] Continue reading

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Filed under Canadian Literature, Fiction, Giller prize

Lost in September: I predict a Giller nominee.

One of the skills I developed during my undergraduate degree was finding connections among the books I was reading for different courses. I’d hear about an idea in one course and take that idea and put it to work in another; or I’d notice themes from one novel resonating in another course that might be distant in time or geography. I’m not sure whether this cross-reading was intention on the part of the program (I’m pretty sure not) but the consequence was that I took personal pleasure in finding these moments of connection or overlap. I’d probably have made for an excellent thematic critic. Alas. I raise all of this because even now with the combination of my terrible memory and my appetite for reading I often find myself midway into a book and certain I’ve recently read something similar, or surprised that everyone seems to be writing about X topic (which probably owes more to how I select what I read than the novels themselves…). Continue reading

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Filed under Canadian Literature, Fiction, Historical Fiction, Prize Winner