Category Archives: Reading

Breaking up

You know when a friend tells you that you have to read a particular book?

So you pick up the book and you start to read and it’s horrible, but your friend recommended it so it must get better, and you keep reading and reading and waiting and reading? And it never gets better?

And then you start to think that if your friend thought you would love this book, maybe your friend doesn’t understand you at all?

And then you think it’s possible that you can’t be friends anymore with someone who would think you could love this book?

Reading is dangerous like that.

The sassy soldier

My friend Leanne and I were seated beside an elderly woman at the elementary school’s volunteer tea. Leanne chatted her up, and soon we were both holding copies of her book.

Doris Gregory is 94. She’d just returned from a book fair in Victoria, where she’d met the lieutenant governor.

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Leanne flipped through her book, and pointed to a photo of Doris and a young soldier.

“Was this your boyfriend?” she teased.

“One of them,” Doris said. “There were a hundred of us dropped into a camp of more than a thousand men. We got plenty of attention.”

So of course we bought her books. As a young student journalist, Doris raged against gender-segregated English classes at UBC. As a member of the Canadian Women’s Army Corps, she crossed the U-boat-patrolled Atlantic, survived air raids, and worked in various war offices. Her stories, as she takes on everything from war bureaucracy to unwanted pregnancy, are smart, witty, and insightful.

Doris eventually returned home to finish her degree, pursue a fellowship, and become a psychologist.

Her book is called How I Won the War for the Allies: One Sassy Canadian Soldier’s Story. I dislike the word “sassy” in the title; I feel as if it lessens Doris’s accomplishments. But she’s a wonderful writer, and I loved every other word in the book.

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If Doris is sassy, I can only hope to be so when I’m 94.

Random Monday

This is a Random Monday post, in the tradition of Eileen Cook (who, incidentally, has a new book out).

* I went for my first swim of the season at Jericho this weekend. I think there was an iceberg just out of sight, sending a current of Arctic meltwater directly to where I was swimming.

* My daughter competed in her first Tri-Kids triathlon on Sunday. She did great, but I was so nervous for her that I felt, afterwards, as if I had run my own triathlon.

* I have fallen entirely in love with Andrew Smith. I read Grasshopper Jungle earlier this year and I finished 100 Sideways Miles over the weekend. They are both brilliant.

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I am now off to write a not-so-brilliant first draft. But there’s always hope, yes? Onwards…

Violence Speaks

My daughter was going to review The Enchanted Egg, the second book in Kallie George’s Magical Animal Adoption Agency series. In fact, Kallie gave her an advance reading copy just for that purpose. But Violence stole the book from Silence’s room before she’d had a chance to read it. (Yeesh. Who would steal a book from a child’s room?) Well, since he stole the book, he’s the one who will be reviewing this week. Here are Violence’s thoughts on The Enchanted Egg:

In this story there’s a new egg in the agency that hasn’t hatched yet. Clover and Mr. Jams still don’t know exactly what kind it is, but they are taking care of it anyway. One day when Mr. Jams has left to save another animal, Clover wakes up to find that the egg has cracked open, but where is the animal? Will Clover find the animal before Mr. Jams comes back?

I think this book is great because of all the animals. The fire salamanders are my favourites, but I don’t think my mom would let me have a fire salamander.

5/5 stars

The perfect Mother’s Day gift

I saw a blog suggestion this week that we should all buy our moms a copy of I’ll Love You Forever for Mother’s Day.

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Now I like a good Robert Munsch tale as much as the next girl, and admittedly, the book is very sweet. But do NOT buy your mom a copy unless you want her to (a) cry and (b) throw up in her mouth before even tasting her first bite of her Mother’s Day French-toast-in-bed.

I spent all week travelling Ontario and talking to kids — hundreds of kids — about people who have taken risks and overcome obstacles to change the world. Some of those people were explosion-obsessed scientists. Some of them were teen activists. Some of them were moms.

None of them climbed through their children’s windows late at night. They had other things to do!

So if you’re going to buy your mother a book, buy her a biography of Lois Gibbs or Emily Jennings Stowe or Elizabeth May. Buy her a novel by Lynn Coady or Margaret Atwood or Angie Abdou.

At the very least, write her a card that says:

Thank you, Mom, for showing me how to run a business, how to make great friends, how to offer help to a neighbour in need, how to build community, balance a cheque book, adhere to a budget and a schedule, work hard, drink wine, bake muffins, build a mean campfire, and yes… take care of children.

Thank you for NOT crawling through my bedroom window.

I’ll love you forever not only for being a great mom, but also for being a great woman.

And let’s hope our kids will love us for the same.

Silence Speaks

This is a guest post by my ten-year-old daughter, Silence. (She would rather add book reviews to her own blog, but that has been ix-nayed for a few more years.) These are her thoughts about A Year in the Life of a Total and Complete Genius, by Stacey Matson. Stacey is a member of my writing group, and Silence found her book at the school library. I’ll let my daughter take it from here…

Enter self-confident, smart, 13-year-old Arthur Bean. Moving can be hard, especially after losing your mom, but Arthur is ready.

On his first day at school, he decided that by the end of the school year, he will have both won the school’s writing contest, and convinced his secret crush Kennedy that he is the one for her.

You’ll laugh at Arthur’s attempts at tutoring popular by not-very-bright Robbie. The two begin as enemies, but slowly become closer in this funny and unusual story.

I rate this book 5 out of 5, and would recommend it to anyone who needs a good laugh.

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Where DO puppies come from?

The phone rang on Saturday afternoon, while we were all sitting around the kitchen table finishing our lunches.

My husband glanced at call display. “Vancouver Public Library,” he said. Since it was obviously not for him, he made no move to answer.

Meanwhile, I was thinking, “I’m sure my books aren’t that overdue.”

My daughter said, “It’s probably TWAG.”

And my son said, “Maybe they want to give us a puppy.”

So that was a complete family portrait, all in one moment.

As it turned out, my daughter was right. It was the library’s Tween Advisory Group (TWAG), calling to ask if she’d like to go to Kidsbooks with them to help choose new library books.

How awesome was that?

(Also, thank God it wasn’t a puppy.)

Vampire diaries

On Saturday night, we went out with some friends to see What We Do in the Shadows, a mockumentary about a group of vampire roommates. It was pretty funny, and impressively creative.

There was only one problem. I’d been reading for days about psychological need versus moral need in John Truby’s The Anatomy of Story. One of these is something the character lacks which affects only himself; the other (I can’t remember which is which) is a lack which affects those around him.

So, yes. I spent Saturday night trying to determine the moral and psychological needs of vampires.

Does this sort of thing happen to other people?

The editor, age three

This is my daughter Silence reading to her young friend Elia over the weekend:

Silence: “Well, I don’t like to brag, but I’m telling you, Liz,
That speaking of cooks, I’m the best that there is!”

Elia: Who’s Liz?

Silence: Liz is his little sister.

Elia: Why does he have a little sister?

Silence: He just does.

Elia: Why’s her name Liz?

Silence: Because it rhymes with “is.”

Elia: Why does it have to rhyme?

I couldn’t help picturing Elia twenty years in the future, as some editorial phenom at Random House:

This seems a rather traditional family, and Liz is a standard English name. Strive for more diversity in the text? Also, rhyme seems somewhat forced. Would a small boy really say, ‘I’m the best that there is’? Consider rewriting without the rhyme…

Dr. Seuss is lucky he didn’t live in the age of Elia.

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