Bernice Eisenstein’s book is important, there’s no doubt about that, and it’s got that charming, graphic novel style that reads more like a series of memories than a pure narrative. Her illustrations are charming and I liked learning more about life in Toronto for her Jewish immigrant parents. Especially reading about Kensington Market thirty or forty years ago.
But, and isn’t there always a but, I wasn’t blown away by it as I probably should have been, and I might put that down to the fact that I’m not entirely convinced I like graphic novels.
But perhaps I’m just reading the wrong ones?
And, well, I might as well give up my Summer Reading challenge—it’s totally gone to pot. And Page A Day? Well, I’m doing a bit better—I’m at 82 (double spaced) and am hoping to break a hundred by mid-August. Now that’s not too bad!