Busting out bad joints all over the place
1. Wallet. Luckily, I had five dollars in my bag, which meant I could still have lunch.
2. Friday Night Lights for Sam.
3. Homemade muffin baked by my RRHB.
4. TTC tokens. See above. Lunch cost $3.00, which means I’ve got two dollars and some pennies to take the subway home.
5. The part of my brain that remembers things. Even when set out the night before (see #2) so one wouldn’t forget them.
Goodness, is it just me, or is the Canada Reads list this year somewhat uninspired? I love both Timothy Findley (and I count Not Wanted on the Voyage among my all-time favourite books) and Mavis Gallant, but I’d have to say that the majority of Canada may have already read both of those authors? For my money, I’d love to see Icefields win, as it’s the only title on the list that I read and thought, ‘now that’s an interesting choice.’ And, it’s not often that I link over to the Q&Q, but they’ve kind of hit the nail on the head with the opening sentence, “There’s a distinct last-century feel to the next Canada Reads lineup, which CBC Radio unveils today.”
Right now, they’re playing some beautiful music on the CBC, something about the beginning of Advent, and I haven’t the faintest idea what the recording is. Not that it’s even that relevant, because the sky is clear from the 20th floor, and there are birds outside floating, as if to the music, with one soaring eagle (I think) who dove at just the right moment before the chorus came in and the pigeons scattered around. It’s almost as if the soundtrack from inside my earphones reached up and outside reminding me that life goes on every day in simply magical ways if I just take the time to look up from my desk.
Elizabeth Hay’s lovely, Giller-winning novel took me quite some time to read. Set in Yellowknife in 1975, the novel follows a group of CBC radio people as they make their way through an informative part of their lives. Touched by the presence of two relative strangers, Dido from The Netherlands and Gwen from small-town Ontario (if I’m remembering correctly), the station’s manager, Harry, finds his life categorically changed from the moment he meets both women. Their presence in his life and at his station act as a kind of impetuous for change for many of the other people these two come into contact with, and in his own way, Harry falls for both, with differing results.
As the novel drifts in and out of the lives of the various characters, you can tell that Hay feels out each and every one with an intensity that can do nothing except inform the story. As the life in the station exists both on and off the air, it becomes apparent that each person in her narrative has come north and stayed for different reasons. There’s something so subtle about Hay’s writing, and about this story in general, that builds up over the time spent engrossed in the book.
And when the four main characters, Gwen, Harry, Ralph and Eleanor, set off into The Barrens for a trip of a lifetime, you know that they’ll come back changed. It’s a novel about that moment in life that you only realize later has come to define your entire life. While all the characters are too close for this to become clear, the narrator gives little hints throughout the text (meant to serve maybe as suspense; in my opinion not entirely necessary), and on the whole it works well structurally.
While I haven’t read many of the other shortlisted titles (just two Effigy and Divisdero), I do think that Hay’s novel has the scope, the emotion, and the heartbreak to be a novel deserving of the prize. I adored Garbo Laughs, and I felt this novel taught me many things, not only about life north of sixty, but also about the idea of radio, the importance of it in the lives of these characters, how sometimes a career isn’t necessarily built but its found, and that love can move in many forms within a person’s heart.
It’s interesting that two of the more intriguing books in Canadian fiction this year have been set in the North, Kevin Patterson’s brilliant Consumption, and now Late Nights on Air. Maybe it’ll get more people thinking about how different the landscape will be in the next fifty years if we don’t make an effort to preserve it. Every inch of Hay’s novel is full of the scenery, not just to set the story, but to inhabit it, like we do our desk chairs every day, from the flora, the fauna, the wildlife, it’s a world that demands attention, and not just on a fictional level.
PHOTO IN CONTEXT: I finished the book in bed this week, and so a picture of it on my bedside table taken from the perspective of my head laying on the pillow.
The weather outside my window at work turned ominous in the afternoon. First there was whirling snow. Then there was strange looking rain. Then so much wind that you could see whitecaps on top of the puddles on the buildings. Finally, there was sun. Bright sun reflecting in the windows in the condos across the way. Fascinating.
It all seemed quite fitting to head off to St Barnabas Anglican Church to see Dave Eggers in all his McDreamy hair, fidgety hands, and soft-spoken intelligence. The church filled up quickly and so I was especially glad to have the rock star treatment from my friend Randy, who was kind enough to bring me along as his guest. We had good seats but the church pew was kind of hard on the old tragic hip.
It’s been years since I’ve seen Dave Eggers, way back around the time when McSweeney’s was all the rage and I was working at a now defunct Canadian magazine doing the worst imaginable job: customer service circulation. Numbers so do not befit this girl. And it explains why I hate the phone so much, still to this day. The event I saw was at the Horseshoe, and Eggers was accompanied by Neal Pollack. They did a really funny bit about superheroes and he drew many pictures on an overhead projector about some kayaking trip. Then, he was incredibly patient as people asked some really dumb questions about his first book, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius.
Annnywaaay. When Eggers came up on stage this time, he seemed so unassuming with his shirt hanging out of his grey cable knit sweater all collegiate and kind of preppy. But he was also almost stumbling over himself in a nervous way (goodness do his hands fly when he’s talking), and kind of sweetly funny, starting off by teasing the TINARS guy about not knowing he wasn’t supposed to use a lectern, asking if there were any parishioners in the audience and joking up some girls in the front row. Once he started talking about his new book (we were at the paperback launch), he sobered up, and told the audience about how What is the What, the biography of Valentine Achak Deng, began, carefully and with an incredible amount of detail. And once it was all over, the picture show reminiscent of something you’d experience at a local Rotary dinner (awesome), and the short videos, he answered questions, many of which were intelligent and well thought out, which is always appreciated at these kinds of things.
As much as I enjoyed the atmosphere of the church, beer would have been good too. But all in all it made me want to read What is the What, and got me thinking about oil, China, Sudan, humanitarianism, artists as activists, curly hair, local action, international action, Jane Fonda, the novel as memoir, Truman Capote, Philip Seymour Hoffman, and a whole host of other random thoughts in my poor, muddled brain.
What a completely and utterly guilty pleasure this book turned out to be. Anna Godbersen’s The Luxe takes place in New York in 1899, and many around the office have declared it’s Gossip Girl meets Edith Wharton, but even more addictive. I have to say that I set aside the last 100 pages of Late Nights on Air, this year’s Giller winner, just so I could read this book uninterrupted over the past couple days. It’s that addictive.
As many of you know, I’m not one who does well with moderation (she says after watching the entire first season of Friday Night Lights again), and after a couple of really heavy movies, I needed something light and fluffy to bring me back down to a happy place. The Luxe was just the book. Centering around society girls Elizabeth, her sister Diana and her “best” friend Penelope, The Luxe imagines a world where beautiful gowns are hand-made, husbands are arranged from other good families, and under no circumstances does one get involved with the help, regardless of how dishy they might be.
It’s a sweet book that melts teen romance into historical drama, and if you’re at all into reading YA fiction, you’ll enjoy it immensely. Once you get sucked in, I guarantee it’s impossible to stop. Kind of like Friday Night Lights. Sigh.
So Zesty and I decided to go and see a movie together yesterday afternoon, and we had both thought that American Gangster might just be the kind of flick for a no-boys afternoon. She picked me up at 3 PM, after I had spend a delicious lunch-brunch with Sam and Sadie, and we drove off to the Queensway only to discover the film’s 4 PM show time had been cancelled. I whipped out my blackberry, we got back in the car, and we ended up in good time at the Paramount downtown only to discover that its afternoon showing had too been switched around. So, back in the car we got, racing up to the Varsity only to get there absolutely in time for the 4:20 show (snacks and seats saved in time to actually even get to see the commercials before the previews).
Was the film worth all that? Maybe not. I mean, it’s not a bad movie by any standards, but it’s certainly not the best picture I’ve seen this fall of truly excellent movies. In some ways, it felt like a substandard season of The Wire crammed into one two-and-a-half hour film. Sure, the performances are good, but it’s certainly not the lean, mean film that it absolutely could have been. Denzel Washington plays Frank Lucas, a gangster who revolutionizes the drug trade in NYC during the heyday of the 70s, when over half the cops in the city were crooked and on the take. Russell Crowe plays one of the only honest cops on the block, Ritchie Roberts, who gets assigned to a new drug task force after turning in close to a million dollars in unmarked bills, much to his partner’s chagrin. The back and forth between Lucas and Roberts starts slowly, as both try to stay under the radar of one another, just trying to do their respective jobs. With the appearance of Blue Magic, a better product at a lower price, all of that changes.
There’s nothing subtle about the film, and that doesn’t mean it’s not a good picture, but you get the feeling Washington’s playing the same character he played in Training Day, which was never my favourite of his films. The fine line Lucas draws between the kind of businessman he imagines himself to be and the business that he’s in remains the most interesting part of the character. And Crowe’s missing the same spark he had in the earlier 3:10 to Yuma, a film that saw him perhaps not rest entirely upon his laurels. But I’d argue in this film, there was never a moment where I felt I hadn’t seen the same story before told in much of the same way. I’d be curious to see which movies from this heady fall season are still standing come Oscar time, and I have no doubt that this one will be recognized, regardless of whether or not its truly deserving. A solid B-, I would think.
My RRHB is away in Sudbury recording, so I decided to do something completely and utterly out of character: I went to the movies by myself. At night. On a Friday. I had a book (in a very Rory Gilmore moment) for the pre-show annoying commercials, I had popcorn, and I had a ridiculous urge to see Sidney Lumet’s Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead. Not simply for the whole Ethan Hawke factor, but more so because I had heard and read so many great things about the film, that I wanted to see it before it disappears from theatres in Toronto. My poor aunt, with whom I had plans to see the movie in the first place, fell ill with a nasty case of pneumonia, which meant that she needed to stay home in bed. I was looking forward to seeing her, but of course, I’m wishing she gets better by resting up. So, I went alone. It’s character building right?
Annnywaaay, that got me out in relative suburbia by 7 PM on a Friday night with hundreds of other happy movie goers. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel too weird being there by myself, happily lined up, got my ticket, the good seat by the railing and settled in with The Luxe before the movie started. It being Friday, there were tonnes of people around me, too much perfume, too much chatting, and I got stuck in a slightly broken chair. Not off to a good start, but the film soon sucked me in so much that it wouldn’t have mattered where I ended up sitting and how uncomfortable I was by the end.
And when the movie starts, it’s deceptively quiet. Philip Seymour Hoffman plays Andy, a relatively successful accountant whose desperately in love with Gina, his wife, played by Marisa Tomei. While on vacation in Brazil, they seem to reconnect, to discover what’s important, even if it soon becomes apparent that they’re both moving in different directions. Once home, Andy feels that getting back to Brazil and starting all over again will save their marriage. He sets out on a dangerous course to try and get them there, involving his younger brother Hank (Ethan Hawke) in a plot meant to knock off their parents jewelry store. Money problems solved, right?
Both brothers are stuck in situations entirely of their own making: Andy addicted to various substances, including his wife; Hank suffering the fall-out of a truly bad marriage who can’t quite keep away from the drink long enough to actually be a man and stand up for himself. Things go from bad to worse when all the plans for their so-called victimless crime wreck havoc on the lives of everyone around them, and then some. There’s not a single character in the film that makes you feel any kind of sympathy, even when Andy pours his broken heart out to his dealer in a pristine environment to shoot yuppie smack, you’re shouting at him in your mind to just do the right thing, to not let what’s about to happen happen. And as the situation goes from very bad to worse than one could possibly imagine, you desperately want them all to wake up and face their lives with a level of honesty that might redeem them in the end.
On the outside, everything looks great, if life were all about appearances. Andy and Hank wear their suits well, and they go through the motions, either truly able to weather the line between right and wrong with any kind of cold-hearted integrity. While the film’s really about the men, it’s a bit of a shame that all the female characters, with the exception of the mother (and for reasons that I won’t spoil here), feel overplayed and under-written, Gina’s all body with no heart, and Amy Ryan (who plays Hank’s beleaguered ex-wife) doesn’t do much more than swear (rightfully so) at her ex. As well, at first I was put off by the terribly derivative way of storytelling, of showing one event and then switching back to the “2 days before the robbery.”
But as the film progresses, the device becomes more and more effective, a way for the film to show the events from multiple perspectives, fitting everything back together with a point of view that only a skilled filmmaker like Lumet could pull off. Kelly Masterson, the film’s screenwriter, has created a terrifyingly bleak world with a cast of characters who cut so close to the bone of the human condition that they become more compelling the worse they act, each personifying an age-old sin representing all that’s wrong with our world. Events of the film are so shocking that at one point, a woman behind me shouted, “OH MY GOD!” when something particularly awful took place.
It’s an excellent film that explores right and wrong, good and bad, and all of the other black and white morals that refuse to let the characters out of their grasp for a second. Regardless of the unlikable nature of any of the characters, the performances in the film are riveting, and as much as I never want to inhabit that kind of a world, I do have to admit that it makes for one hell of a movie.
I was blogging over at Savvy Reader this morning about the NY Times Notable Books list. A few years ago, I printed off the list and tried to read every single book on it, but got stalled somewhere around the first five. But that’s not to say that there aren’t wonderful books on the list, just that I, once again, got sidetracked by something shiny before truly getting through the before-blogs-even-existed challenge.
But this year, without even trying, I’ve already read quite a few of the titles (The Gathering, Let the Northern Lights Erase Your Name, Mothers and Sons, On Chesil Beach, and Out Stealing Horses). And there are quite a few books on the list that are currently sitting on my bedside table waiting for some attention, and I love that there are so many literary biographies on the nonfiction list.
I’ve decided I’m going to do my own top 10 list of books that I’ve read this year, but I probably won’t get to it until the beginning of January, as I’ll be counting the very last pages that get read towards my end of year goal.
The weather might bless us with the first snow of the season tonight. While I’m not a huge fan of winter, I love the first snow. It’s so pretty and white and, well, seasonal. But it also starts me thinking that my life might simply get even busier once next week ends. It’s already booked up with a couple of parties, a reading, a Broadway-style show, a celebration, a lovely rock show with Christine Fellows on December 14th (if you’re not doing anything, please come, it’s at the Music Gallery, and she’s so brilliant), and that little family celebration called Christmas.
Gack!
I’ve already had to pause yoga until the new year because I’ll be missing three upcoming classes and there’s no point in paying if I can’t even get there.
How to remain sane? Now, that’s the real challenge.