Those Precious Books You Find by Accident

Firstly, apologies for my long absence. I’m finally finished school for the year and ready to blog.

Even before I wrote my last exam I was aching to read a good book. I’m an English major so yes, I do read books – good books – throughout the school year.  But I assume many people would agree reading for pleasure and reading for school are vastly different, it’s the difference between relaxing by the pool or swimming laps. Maybe not. My similes are a little rusty.

So I was aching to read a good book. I went to the fiction section of a nearby library and pulled out a couple options. I had never heard of any of them and I was partially going by the taboo, “Don’t judge a book by its cover.” I picked up Stunt, by Claudia Dey, an acclaimed Canadian playwright who I had never heard of. According to the back cover, Lisa Moore and Michael Winter gave raving revues – I think I mentioned my adoration for those two in a previous blog – and Stunt is Dey’s first novel. I am usually very adept at picking random gems off the shelves and have had a lot of good luck with debut novels so I checked it out and brought it home where it sat until I finished exams.

Stuntis set in Toronto in the 1980s. Toronto has never been portrayed in such a hauntingly, mysteriously beautiful light. Told in the voice of Eugenia – a tight rope walker in training – who lives with her sister, Immaculata, her father Sheb Wooly Ledoux, and her mother, Mink until Sheb disappears, soon followed by Mink’s departure. The nine year olds, Eugenia and Immaculata, instantaneously double in age and set off into the world.

I will refrain from attempting a more detailed summary because there is no way to properly convey this book in such a short space and I could never hope to do it justice. Stunt is saturated with beautiful language and convoluted narratives.  Eugeneia’s queer circumstances and even queerer self form the epitome of an unreliable narrator. Dey’s readers are forced to think critically and analytically as they are presented a story through a warped and mangled lens. Called by some a, “surrealist coming of age story,”  the characters either give in to their basest urges and explore their deepest psychoanalytic drives or embody a transcendental form of enlightenment, or both.

I feel as if I’ve been away. As if I’ve stood at the bottom of an ocean floor. Walked through snow thick as a blindfold. Been dragged behind a horse, pine gum in my hair. And now, returned, I have misplaced some things and forfeited others. In their absence, new things have chuted in to claim their place. They are just slightly harder to the touch, bones that much more fused. I stop in front of the beautician’s window to inventory, not sure what form they’ll take, these souvenirs. I could have a tricycle in my pocket. I could be covered in moon dust. I could have gloom for eyes. I could be cured with salt.

Tragic, joyous, sepulchral and beautiful; Stunt is one of those precious books I found by accident.

 

Culture in Translation

So, I’ve been sporadically following the Mohammad Shafia trial and as it draws to a close, before the verdict is published, I’d like to briefly discuss the difficulties of one culture judging and making claims on another. For those of you who don’t know, Mohammad Shafia, his wife Tooba Mohammad Yahya, and their son Hamed are accused of killing Shafia’s three daughters and their mother. An expert on Afghan culture has been called in as a witness to help clarify the use of language overheard on wire taps. The alleged murder is being called an honor killing because Shafia’s daughters were not leading a traditional Afghan lifestyle, dressing “provocatively” and two of them had boyfriends. I don’t want to make judgments as to the guilt of Shafia, Yahya and Hamed. I just want to draw attention to the fact that a Canadian culture is alleging an Afghan man committed an honor killing, something foreign to Canadian culture. I am a white Canadian and because of this I don’t feel that I am qualified to make judgements on the family dynamics or actions involving another culture and I don’t think the majority of Canadians are either. Honor killings do happen in Afghanistan but from what I have read they are not frequent and they aren’t acceptable. Canadians applying the term honor killing to Shafia’s actions feels xenophobic, or at the very least ignorant. If an expert on Afghan culture was a necessary witness then maybe this is a testimony to the fact that a normal Canadian jury is not adequately equipped to understand this situation. Maybe Shafia is guilty. Maybe it was an honor killing. I can’t think of a better way to go about the trial without radically changing the Canadian legal system. The point is we are Canadians, not Afghanistani, and we don’t can’t understand.

Neither Happy Nor Normal

As an avid Jeanette Winterson fan, I had been eagerly anticipating her memoir, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? since I heard her read from it in June. Winterson has incorporated autobiographical elements into many of her books, especially the kind of based on real life, Oranges are not the Only Fruit published in 1985. None of these books, however, divulged any definitive truth and so I looked forward to this new publication as a tell all window into one of my favorite authors lives. I was mildly disappointed. The book felt slightly redundant – Winterson goes so far as to include passages from Oranges - and even Winterson’s eloquent prose couldn’t prevent a feeling of slight chagrin for a book I had been so breathlessly waiting on. The inclusion of text from Oranges served the purpose of highlighting the intertextuality of all of Winterson’s works but provides an unnecessarily simple explanation by a writer who is usually more complex. Why be Happy was not up to par with her other novels, which are truly excellent, but it is still extremely well written and intriguing. Winterson is able to write about her childhood with a hint of comedy, though growing up with a mother like Mrs. Winterson was a seemingly insurmountable obstacle. The adopted Jeanette was, and still is, a rebel, an outcast, and a lesbian, growing up in an overpoweringly religious household with a manic depressive mother.

“A lot of older people I knew, my parents’ generation, quoted Shakespeare and the Bible and sometimes metaphysical poets like John  Donne, without knowing the source, or misquoting and mixing.

My mother, being apocalyptic by nature, liked to greet any news of either calamity or good fortune with the line ‘Ask not for whom the bell tolls… ” This was delivered in a suitably sepulchral tone. As evangelical churches don’t have any bells, I never understood, even, that it was about death, and certainly not till I got to Oxford did I find it was a misquote from a prose passage of John Donne, the one that begins ‘No man is an island entire of itself…’ and that ends ‘never send to know for whom the bell tolls…’

Once, my dad won the works raffle. He came home very pleased with himself. My mother asked him what was the prize?

‘Fifty pounds and two boxes of Wagon Wheels.’ (These were large and horrible chocolate-style biscuits with a wagon and a cowboy on the wrapper.)

My mother did not reply, so my dad pressed on. ‘That’s good, Connie – are you glad?’

She said, ‘Ask not for whom the bell tolls…’

So we didn’t.”

Winterson relates her life in parts from some of her earliest memories to her present self. The autobiography is interspersed with reflections on life, people in general, and passages of an almost philosophical nature which belittle Winterson’s experiences by making generalizations of all people and projecting her own experiences onto this generalization. Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? was not up to the standard I expect from Winterson but I still could not put it down.

Exams; Perfecting Procrastination

Because I am very new to blogging and before I created my account had never before actually looked at a blog before I had a very vague idea that blogs were predominantly mundane accounts of people’s uneventful days. Evidently I was wrong. – Yes, I am behind on the times in most technological related areas, why do you ask? – Blogging and reading other people’s blogs has actually given me a productive and interesting way to fill my hours of procrastination. So here is a thank you to all the bloggers out there who are helping me put off studying for my looming exams but allowing me to feel productive while I’m doing it. I know that sounds like a bit of a trivialization so, just to clarify, I am very aware how much more important and interesting blogs are than just a time filler. I also never considered how interactive and diverse blogs are. Yes, feel stupid.

So the beginning of my blogging was mostly because of my lack of life due to essays and exams. My last exam is tomorrow on The Canadian Short Story. I’ve read some great stories in the last four months. My recommendations: The Lonely Goatherd by Lisa Moore, Human Elements by Michael Redhill, and Traplines by Eden Robinson. I think short stories themselves but especially Canadian short stories are often overlooked – as are blogs? I know my own biases are based on the belief my own culture isn’t as interesting as other cultures. But this bias goes as far as occasionally preferring literature from the United States over Canada just based on that fact alone. I have no idea why. But I’m slowly chipping away at this prejudice, partially with the help of my professors who force me to read Canadian lit.

So I guess this post means I’m ignorant on multiple fronts. Though right now my main concern is my exam which is in… 11 hours and 49 minutes. Time for review, that includes the aforementioned short stories (which I highly recommend!)

—Other procrastination tactics?

—————–O hey my eyebrows look uneven, I should pluck those.

—————–Wow, I’m hungry. I should cook a really elaborate meal.

—————–If I take a nap now I’ll be able to focus more later.

—————–Just one more episode…

Fool Proof Cheesecake

So, I forgot to take a picture of the original cheesecake and I asked my friend to send me a picture of what I thought would be a significant amount of cake. He sent me this.

It turned out great; really dense and rich.

The recipe is from Better Homes and Gardens; New Cook Book edited by Gerald M. Know. 1981. (With a few tweaks by me.)

But first; here’s what you don’t do.

• DON’T eat so much of the filling you are too full to try the cake.
• DON’T accidentally turn off the oven when you are changing the temperature.
• DON’T have a heated argument with your boyfriend about who’s fault turning off the oven was.

Ingredients

• 3/4 cup of all purpose flour
• 3 tbsp sugar
• 1 tsp finely shredded lemon peel
• 6 tbsp margarine (you can use butter instead but don’t forget to soften it)
• 1 slightly beaten egg yolk
• 1/2 tsp of vanilla
• 3 8 – ounce packages cream cheese, softened
• 1 cup of sugar
• 2 tsp all purpose flour
• 1/4 tsp salt
• 2 eggs
• 1 egg yolk
• Fresh fruit (I used raspberries and blueberries

To prepare crust, combine 3/4 cup flour, 3 tbsp sugar and 1/2 tsp of the lemon peel. Cut in margarine till crumbly. (It’s easiest to knead with your hands.) Stir in 1 slightly beaten egg yolk and 1/4 tsp of the vanilla. Pat 1/3 of the dough onto the bottom of an 8 or 9 inch spring form pan – butter the pan first (with sides removed.) – You don’t need a spring form pan but it makes removing the cake a lot easier. – Bake in a 400 F over for 7 minutes or until golden; cool.

Butter the sides of pan; attack to bottom. Pat remaining dough onto sides of pan at a height of 1 3/4 inches; set aside.

For the filling, in a large mixer bowl beat together the softened cream cheese, remaining lemon peel, and remaining vanilla till fluffy. Stir together the 1 cup sugar, the tablespoon flour, and the salt; gradually stir into cream cheese mixture. Add the 2 eggs and 1 egg yolk all at once, beating at a low speed just until combined. Stir in milk. Turn into crust lined pan. Bake in 450 F over for 10 minutes. Reduce heat to 300 F and bake 75 min. (So here the recipe says to reduce the heat and bake for 55 min so I’m not sure if it’s just my oven but I haven’t had that problem with other recipes. To check if the cake is done just stick a knife in it; it’s done if the knife comes out clean.) – Also, don’t be alarmed if it looks like the filling is rising above the crust. It does that, but it settles back down after it cools a bit. – Cool 15 min. Loosen sides of cake from pan. Cool 30 min. Now it’s safe to remove the pan. Cool 2 hours longer – I didn’t. Chill thoroughly. Serve topped with fresh fruit.

The recipe also gave a Cherry Sauce to top the cake with but it sounded too sweet for my taste.

Cherry Sauce: In a saucepan combine 3/4 cup sugar, 2 tbsp cornstarch, and dash salt. Stir in 1/3 cup water. Stir in 4 cups fresh or frozen unsweetened pitted tart red cherries, thawed. Cook and stir till thickened and bubbly. Cook and stir 1 or 2 minutes more. Cover; chill without stirring. (Or, use one 21 ounce can of cherry pie filling instead of sauce.)

Ente, Tod und Tulpe

       First published as Ente,Tod und Tulpe – a children’s picture book - in 2008, Duck, Death and the Tulip was translated by the author and illustrator, Wolf Erlbruch, and published in North America in 2011. The words themselves may be translated but the German paradigms surrounding the treatment of and outlook towards death cannot be Americanized. “For a while now, Duck had had a feeling. ‘Who are you? What are you up to, creeping along behind me?’ “Good,’ said Death, ‘you finally noticed me. I am Death.’” The inclusion of death personified  is not a North American custom in young children’s literature. However, Death, Duck and the Tulip is eerily beautiful and deeply engrossing for children and adults alike. The clever play on words and analogous dialogue can be appreciated by adult readers; so much so that I would call this a picture book for adults as well as children. These same traits cannot be fully grasped by children but instead act to shroud the story in mystery for a young audience. My own reading experiences from my picture book age were most fantastic when stories felt mysterious and adult. I felt as if I was being let in on a secret that most authors choose not to share with young readers. Wolf Erlbruch has created a story about death, free of the patronizing language many North American children’s books employ, to directly teach children about taboo subjects – for example: Mummy Never Told Me, authored and illustrated by Babette Cole. Instead, Duck, Death and the Tulip allows children the freedom of their own interpretation.

      The plain but enchanting language is paired with Erlbruch’s stunningly non complex images presented on a blank background. Erlbruch mixes the mediums of drawing, painting, and cutting and pasting to illustrate his books. Children are taught not to leave blank space in their drawings. Duck, Death and the Tulip is full of blank space which helps exhume the possibility of a deeper meaning by allowing room for imagination and presents metaphorical images of mortality on a blank canvas.

      Erlbruch uses these same techniques in his other picture books, and successfully so. He has won multiple awards including the Deutscher Jugendliteraturpreis in 1993 and the Hans Christian Anderson Award for illustration in 2006. Erlbruch has translated many of his books into English – including; The Big Question, The Butterfly Workshop, and Leonard - and continues to write for a positive, national reception.