On Turning Pages

This has been a good summer for reading lists (it sounds like Laura's in a similar boat). For a while there (an embarrassing length of time, really), I was feeling completely uninspired by what I had been reading—books languished half-finished on my nightstand, classics sat dusty on my shelves. I could only manage magazines, albeit the well-written and thoughtful ones (Lula, Oh Comely, The Gentlewoman), but I felt completely blah about the whole ordeal.

It's tough to find a book you connect with deeply, and that usually doesn't happen browsing the bookshelves of Indigo. Most often, they're found in recommendations from good friends, shared in book lists, passed down from family libraries. And lately, I've been finding my reading mojo is back, and I've found it in books that aren't my cultural vegetables—books that are off the beaten track, or purely fun reads, or non-fiction. Here, a selection of the books that have been flying off my nightstand the past month.


Caste Marks: Style and Status in the USA – Paul Fussell
Easily one of the most entertaining and enlightening books I've ever read. Fussell critically eyes the the American class system, dissolving any notions of money as the sole difference between social strata. With chapters focused on how class is represented in dress, housing, cars and culture, certain themes emerge about each level of class—how the lowest of low and the out-of-sight uppers are more alike than any other, or how the middle class is defined by anxiety. And I found the tone of the work deliciously merciless, as Fussell has an incisive, gleeful, decidedly British way with words that dances circles around social cues usually left unsaid. After reading this, I am doubly excited to visit Disneyworld in the fall with my ride-or-die ho (and lender of this book), Gillian.

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Bossypants – Tina Fey
This was a fun read, and I blasted through this series of short stories in two days. Fey's background in comedy is evident, her prose filled with quick asides and puns, not all of which succeed on their own but work towards crafting her charming persona. And I found this book REALLY charming—rather than write her idealized story, Fey presents herself flaws and all. I liked that she felt like a real person, a person who does selfish things sometimes, and whose teenage years were too dorky to have sex or take drugs, and who still gets scared in the same fundamental way everyone gets scared: am I good enough? She glazes over all the boring stuff, like having a baby and falling in love, and instead goes for the guts of what has made her so likable over the years—she's a self-depricating geek who loves what she does, and her success story feels like a win for the little guy.

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Raise High The Roof Beam, Carpenters – J.D. Salinger
So I guess I lied about avoiding classics. This slim orange paperback was given to me by my friend Laura Jane, an extra copy of one of her favourite books that she'd been waiting to give to the right person. And I am too grateful that I was deemed worthy—this little novella really shows a true master at work. Finely realized in tightly tuned prose, Salinger wraps you up in Buddy's world, all summer heat and constricted ribs and strange passengers together enroute somewhere. It feels effortless and focused at the same time, and has the heft of a thorough backstory without overexposure. All of the characters feel so real, established in little asides and a very visual sense of telling. And boy, can Salinger turn a phrase, writing lines that tumble enticingly over and over in your brain. I have yet to read the second novella, Seymour: An Introduction, but I found Raise High to be so perfect on its own that I wanted to give it some space to breathe.

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On Writing – Stephen King
Wow, I like this guy. I mean, I've never been a huge fan of King's work, but the few novels I've read have always been the best types of thrilling, can't-put-it-down summer reads. But man, On Writing has changed that for me. His memoir on the craft serves as an autobiography and master class on writing well, complete with grammar lesson and his tricks of the trade. His voice is not that of an expert, but of a fan of the written word who is just sharing what's worked for him. He is encouraging, helpful and concise, cutting to the heart of what's bad and what works, and offering seeds of advice for finding your story, characters and audience.

Before all of that though, King writes about his life—his love of B movies, his humble beginnings with his brother's newspaper, his terrible jobs as a broke newlywed, his devotion to his wife. And about his demons, addictions that threatened to tear his family and his writing apart (when he mentioned how he didn't realize he had written The Shining about himself, or that Annie Wilkes was alcohol and drugs, keeping him as her "pet writer", I couldn't help but shiver). King approaches this with no kid gloves and thankfully, only the detail needed to make you feel how tenuous it is—the balance between life and work, and how fear can take root and poison what's good in your life. It's a highly inspiring read from a man at the top of his game, and I strongly urge all you writers (and other creatives) to give it a read.*


What next on my reading list? Well, I've got a copy of The Handmade Marketplace that I think will help with a little project I'm working on, and I've still got Seymour to read. The next two on my library list are Valley of the Dolls and I Don't Mean to be Rude, but..., Simon Cowell's autobiography. And I'd like to start working my way through King's novels, especially The Shining. But really, the best part has been having the pressure off, reading things that inspire me and delight me, and feeling the escapist power of the page again. It's a good feeling, and it's just in time for a long, hot summer.

*May I also recommend you read the edition of On Writing I've posted here, the tenth anniversary edition. It's such a treat to find a book that has been laid out with a comfortable reading experience in mind, and I've found this one to be really great—wide margins, generous line spacing and the perfect size for a purse.

The Burning House project

I am obsessed with The Burning House project, which asks people to submit a picture and list of the items that they would save if their house was burning.

"If your house was burning, what would you take with you? It's a conflict between what's practical, valuable and sentimental. What you would take reflects your interests, background and priorities. Think of it as an interview condensed into one question." 

Picking and choosing what you would save in an emergency is faulty and kind of idealized—you would probably just grab your laptop, your cat, and GTFU. But the idea of finding, in the huge amount of crap that we all own, the most important things that you wouldn't want to live without, is very cool. So although the name of this project can be misleading, I love the results. I also love the process I imagine the submitters going through in order to find their most prized possessions.

The strict organization of these photos appeal to me, everything is placed to show itself and complement the other pieces, so now matter how unrelated the objects are they always look like a complete collection. Each object is there for a specific reason, and even more interesting than the pictures are the explanations of what 
the object is, and sometimes they'll include why.


It's also interesting how the age of the submitter can effect the items that they find most important. Justin McClinton, who is 19-years-old, has a picture of his family, a T-shirt his dad used to wear, and some other family heirlooms, while 47-year-old Stefano Meneghetti has a Kraftwerk LP and some breakfast cereal. (No judgments here, I definitely have food that would make my list.)


Similar to this project and equally as loved is the "What's in your bag right now?" blog post that you can see everywhere all the time. Mostly it makes me jealous because those purses are impossibly clean. Amanda and I will be tackling this and doing our own to share with you all very soon.


Check out the site, but be warned—the first time I saw it I lost about an hour of my day. You'll get lost looking through other people's treasures.

Eat It: Bacon Fried Rice

Last night, I had planned to go to the grocery store, but my day ran late, we had friends coming by and only about a half hour to make dinner, so I decided to cook with whatever was in my fridge. And boy, am I glad I did.

Please excuse my iPhone pic and extra veggies*

I'd completely forgotten how much I like fried rice. It's the easiest, most versatile dinner imaginable, and it's perfect for using up everything in your fridge. Chop up your last bits of red or green pepper, onion, carrot, zucchini, herbs, tomato, avocado and toss them in. Add a can of drained and rinsed chick peas or black beans. Throw in some frozen peas or corn. Leave out the egg and make it vegan. Add in last night's leftover taco meat, shredded chicken, strips of steak, cubed hamburgers, tofu, whatever! Raid your fridge and cupboards mercilessly and your taste buds will thank you for it.

I had some leftover bacon from brunch on Sunday, so I thought I'd use that up. And, lucky for me, bacon makes everything it touches the most amazing incarnation of its possible self. Onions and eggs cooked in bacon fat? Sign me up.

It makes for great microwaveable leftovers the next day too, and is just enough bacon to be office appropriate. You could even use the leftovers in burritos! Aw man, I'm totally doing that.

On Reading

It was only when Dan and I moved that I realized how many books I have and hold dear. Because I was an English student at U of T for about six years, I collected many, many novels and anthologies, the majority of which I sold back or donated after the class was done. But each year there was at least one class that I loved, one class where I totally treasured each piece of literature that we studied, and those books just never seem to leave my shelves. Even before I started university I was building a library; my parents' living room walls are lined with shelves of novels that they've collected over the years, and I can't think of much better than a house full of books (especially if they're colour coded, or alphabetized! Swoon!).

The bad news is that I haven't been able to read for pleasure for about six years now. When you're expected to read for school, and there is always some kind of work to be done, reading what you want to read takes a major back burner—for me it was completely off the stove.

sanctuary

I've been reading like a fiend ever since I finished my last class, and I am desperately trying to remember the mental book list that I've been compiling since 2006. Anytime I need book inspiration I head over to the new, smaller Balfour Books, which has an incredible Can Lit paperback section, with most of the classics going for under $5. That is how I found the Morley Callaghan book That Summer in Paris that I loved so much. And the Margaret Atwood collection of short stories Wilderness Tips, which is so wonderful and haunting that I will read it over and over again.

I have recently started reading Mian Mian's Candy, a book published in 2003 that was banned in China, Mian is being hailed as the country's most promising young writer. It's always interesting, reading novels that have been translated from their original language. It always makes me think about how much work went into keeping the tone and the integrity of what the author was trying to say, and this translation's language fits in perfectly with the overall feeling of the book.

"Saining and I were like a pair of curious cats, but curiosity can kill a cat. Sometimes, in his embrace, I would joke around and pretend to be the kind of girl who would marry him on the spot. Or I might pretend that I was the kind of girl who might run off with someone else at the drop of a hat. We liked words like elope, which to us suggested the road to freedom. But bombs fall on the most beautiful places, and happiness will steal away."

What I like most about this book is has to do with why it has been banned in China: its honesty about the dependence and easy access to heroin in Shanghai, and the hole-punched records and broken casette tapes that would be the only access to Western music. I'm only about half-way through, but it's a great read, a quick one too.

I am somewhat at a loss for where to go from here. There are too many good books out there, too many amazing authors whose work I want to read in full.

So give me your suggestions: books, authors, time periods, fiction, non-fiction, comics, anything!

A Love Letter to My Bicycle

I'm not the most active person. Anyone who knows me, even just as an acquaintance, knows this as fact. I am huffing and puffing by the time I get to my office on the third floor. I have a handful of my favourite delivery places on speed dial, one of which is a block away from my house. I have been known to Skype-chat with friends a 20-minute TTC ride away. Even saying the word 'sports' makes my nose wrinkle involuntarily (oh hey, so does writing it!).

But there was a time, my first summer living in Toronto, when I decided to try being a bit healthier and my first step was to invest in a bike. Nothing fancy, just an old bike I could commute with and save on bus fare. I began trolling Craigslist, and within days, I found him—my red CCM in shining armour.

Because I am frequently impractical on matters of style, my trusty steed is a behemoth steel roadster bicycle from the 70s. He is so monstrously huge that when I called to inquire about the ad, the nice man selling him nervously cleared his throat and asked my height, because this is not a girl's bike. This is a man's bike. I am nearly 6', and I have to swing my leg up higher than my modesty would like to get over this puppy. Not only is he big, he is HEAVY, weighing at least 30 pounds. Or I don't know, heavier. I'm bad at judging weight. Regardless, it's not the most practical bike to drag up and down a porch daily.

However, I knew we were meant to be together, and I took the subway out to Bloor West Village, paid that nice man selling him $180, and rode home on what has been the most terrifying bike ride to date. It had been at least three years since last riding a bike, I had no helmet and had never rode in a city before, and NOTHING prepares you for the hills out by High Park, especially not at rush hour. But we survived, I was undeterred and from that day, a bond was forged.

Goliath + me 4 evah

BIG CHANGES

So things have been busy lately, and although things are smoothing out now, it's certainly taking some getting used to. As you read last week, I moved out of the apartment that Amanda and I shared so we could both live with our boyfriends, something that feels both like "it's about time" and "whoa, this is a big step." Things have been quite lovely in that sense, but moving is a huge pain in the ass, as is the lack of internet, kitchen knives, and floor space that isn't covered in boxes.

The "big move" has been much more difficult than I anticipated, mostly because I think I anticipated a breath of fresh air—total domestic bliss in a place that was totally my own, a seamless transition for everyone, and a new apartment that was perfect in every way. I do love the place, once it's set up it will be really awesome, but there is the reality of noisy neighbours, garbage smells, screens that let in flies, and other qualities of city apartments.

I've been an anxious mess since June 30, mostly because of feelings brought on by the move: a combination of changed living space, finishing school, and generally feeling like I am being forced to grow up when I don't feel very grown up. I was ignoring these feelings until we stepped foot in the new place, which I feel is not yet my own, but a place I have to live up to. I am envying Amanda of her non-move, as staying in our old place takes less adjusting and probably feels like home already.

The back of the apartment, as we were moving in.