Stolen Child

Stolen Child / Marsha Forchuk Skrypuch

Toronto: Scholastic, c2010.

192 p.

This is another juvenile book I read recently. I love Marsha Skrypuch's work; usually her books deal with an Eastern European theme (mainly Ukrainian, but she's also written about Armenia). She is involved in educational forums as well as teaching writing in respected programs like the Humber School for Writers (so jealous of those attendees!)

In this brief tale, she takes on the little known Nazi program called the Lebensborn. With this program, the Nazis planned to steal children from Eastern European countries who both looked Aryan and met exact and rigorous physical measurements the Nazis believed were definitively Aryan, in order to bolster the numbers of the Master Race. This book is the story of Nadia, a young girl who has just immigrated to Canada in the immediate post-war years. She is troubled with memory loss and no understanding of the flashes of fancy dresses, big houses, and Nazi uniforms that keep appearing in her mind. She has come to Canada under the care of Marusia and Ivan, loving surrogate parents who keep reminding her that she must call them Mother and Father if they are to stay together under immigration rules.

However, as it turns out, Marusia is not Nadia's birth mother - but when love and care are considered, Nadia realizes that Marusia has saved her life. As her memories come back, and as she begins to feel safer in this strange new country, Nadia's world changes. Was she really a Nazi, as some of the mean boys at school taunt her? Can she even really call herself Nadia? How she deals with the realization of the truth of her life and what has happened to her is a gripping tale for middle school readers. Skrypuch does not shy away from the harsh realities of life under Nazi rule; she also does not skim over the emotional trauma suffered by Nadia. Even in such a brief tale, there are turns of phrase that can say so much yet stay within the reader's age range and level of comprehension (thematically, not just with vocabulary). It is a touching story of the triumph of courage and love in a terrible time, and ends on a note of hope for the future.

I was impressed by the finely crafted shape of this book. It takes a difficult and little known subject and makes it instantly recognizable through strong characters and a well developed sense of place. Also, on a personal note, there are wonderful depictions of a library and a kindly teacher both of which prove vitally important to Nadia's recovery. I loved them both. Skrypuch has illuminated a very difficult subject to write about for children, and made it a fascinating read.

Next to Nature, Art: according to Penelope Lively

Next to Nature, Art / Penelope Lively
London: Penguin, 1984, c1982.
186 p.


This latest Lively read was -- as usual with my Lively picks so far -- enjoyable, so much so that I read it in one sitting. It is sharper than some of her others, but perhaps that is because the subject matter lends itself to easy skewering.

It takes place in a large but crumbling English country house, Framleigh Hall, that has been made over into an artists retreat as a way to keep it going. The year is 1974, a time when week long retreats to discover your artistic merit in pottery or watercolor were de rigeur. Eleven students have paid their money and are on their way to an artistic experience they hope will enliven their lives. Toby owns the house and loves to play lord of the manor. He is in a relationship with Paula, the woman who helps him run the place, and they have a young son together, one whom Toby barely acknowledges. But Toby is also in a relationship with Nick, a young male art student who works at the retreat, and he quite enjoys the resultant power he has over the young man. Add in a few other instructors with their own quirks, a kitchen staff who disappears halfway through the week, and the motley gathering of very different students all in close quarters, and you have the ingredients for a story of human nature exposed.

The peccadilloes of artists who are cynical about both amateurism and the taint of 'selling out' by actually making money make perfect subject matter for Lively's sharp, discerning eye. The self-image of both artists and students seems to be one of self-deception more than truth; each person's longing to be more important than they are comes clear in the compulsions and behaviour which begins to identify each one as the group starts to settle. There are various types, but even so, each is still an individual with a back story that somehow seems to just be there, without needless exposition. Lively is very good at sketching a character in a few precise phrases.

Sexual desire, self-importance, betrayal and schadenfreude all appear, as most of the cohort revert to what feels like school-yard behaviour. There are a couple of characters that actually have talent, and these level headed beings stand separate from the desperation and jostling for position among the others.

Things come to a head when, as a special event, a local author shows up to read from his work late in the week. By this time the retreat has rather gone off the rails, with the students taking on the kitchen rota after the flight of the unpaid kitchen staff. Resentments abound, and incompetence is in full flight: the lights go out on the poor aged author and his wife, and sarcastic chaos abounds. The petty insults and misery are dreadful, yet dreadfully funny as well. Lively never descends into tragedy or portentous writing, she always has a light and ironic eye which makes an observer of the reader and allows us to see such scenes in a way which (after time) we might regard them if they'd happened to us; so terrible that you just have to laugh.

In any case, this is a more direct, plot filled story than some of her others, but so entertaining. The horrible characters are dealt with, the story moves on, and the pretensions of this self-enclosed artistic world are pricked. The only true note of sympathy is sounded for the neglected six year old who knows only this world, and only the lack of supervision he senses in not the norm for all his school friends. Sharp observation and cool writing make this another winner in my read-all-of-Lively project.

The Children of Mary by Bociurkiw

The Children of Mary / Marusya Bociurkiw
Toronto: Inanna, c2006.
207 p.

I had heard of this author but hadn't read her when I found this book on the shelves of a second hand bookstore. It's a lovely object in itself; nice cover and weight and so on, and it was a book I wanted to read especially because of the Ukrainian elements. I was richly rewarded there.


It is the tale of three generations of Ukrainian women, centred around Winnipeg, with the heart of the story set in the 70's. Two sisters, Sonya and Kat, are growing up in a Ukrainian neighbourhood but are absolutely Canadian, focused on Abba and popular culture. Their grandmother Maria and mother Tatyana have both had terrible marriages, with men who are absent either relationally or in actuality. The story is most definitely one focused on women, with Kat and Sonya both eventually realizing that their sexual preference is lesbian. Though this story at first sounds like a typical multigenerational immigration narrative, it is in truth anything but. It is creative and complex, with multiple layers of meaning, and varied themes to be drawn out.

As the book begins, Kat and Sonya, bored and at loose ends, end up joining the Children of Mary, a church group for Ukrainian and Polish Catholic girls; the religious element exacerbates Kat's issues and she ends up creating stigmata in Sonya's hands and feet. After this display she is sent to spend the summer with her distant father, and Sonya is sent off to stay with her Baba, who lives in the country and spends her time making up herbal concoctions and warning Sonya to stay away from the river and the rusalky, the river spirits. It is after this summer that Kat changes, and grows up past Sonya's ability to keep up with her older sister. Kat gets into the hippie scene of the 70's, with drugs and sex taking over her life; she eventually runs away from home, and after some time, is found dead from a car accident. This trauma affects the family deeply, with both the embarrassment of Kat's behaviour and the unresolved grief of her death overshadowing Sonya and Tatyana in the years to come. This novel explores how such unresolved trauma can flow through the future and wear away a person, shaping their life, much as water can wear a path through the landscape by its sheer constancy.

The Rusalky, and indeed rivers in general, are a central theme in the book. Perhaps rivers reference the fluidity of memory, the sense of being drowned in our family and its dysfunction, or the tenacity exhibited by flooding or by remaining flowing underground long after they've been paved over by civilization. The Rusalky themselves are a strong symbol of the feminine element of water and of the belonging Sonya is searching for, both within her Ukrainian community and within her more personal lesbian community.

The narration shifts between first person accounts by Sonya and Maria, with brief dream narratives by Tatyana slipped in here and there. I admired Maria for her strength and her knowledge, while finding Sonya a very tough survivor, trying to make her way in the world while remaining true to herself. It is Tatyana that I feel the most sympathy for, however, as she is the in-between generation, not really Ukrainian but not as Canadian as her daughters either. She is also weighed down by a useless ex-husband whose absence is a major theme of Sonya and Kat's childhood.

A large part of Sonya's self growth takes place after she moves to Toronto and redefines herself according to her individuality and sexuality. She experiences the lesbian scene, meets Zoe who becomes her partner of 14 years, and yet has commitment issues that result in many affairs. There is a great deal of frank and mature subject content in these chapters, so if that makes you uncomfortable this may not be the book for you.

The writing in this novel is beautiful; powerful and flowing with the strength of the Red River itself. Each setting, whether Winnipeg's North End or Toronto's lesbian community (from the 70's to the 90's), is evoked with precision yet with a sense of gentle mockery. The tone never becomes maudlin or heavily nostalgic, rather Bociurkiw is able to draw out the ironies and amusing inconsistencies that people display everywhere, no matter how different they think they are. People are portrayed as complex and valued whether or not their actions are either incomprehensible or amusing. Judgement has no place in this book, rather, the characters seek understanding. It is a book that deals with sexuality, gender, class, nationality, and identity, and provides multiple routes to discuss these topics. It was a challenging read, but had many rewarding moments.

Personally, I found the Ukrainian elements of most interest, appreciating how she could express the different generations so convincingly, revealing the shifting nature of national identity. And I must mention her ability to use food as a convincing metaphor and a major element of the narrative. Really, there are many other things I could talk about in this book, but I would just recommend reading it to experience a full immersion in the watery world of the Children of Mary.

Flavia Returns, in The Weed that Strings the Hangman's Bag

The Weed That Strings the Hangman's Bag / Alan Bradley
Toronto: Doubleday, c2010.
348 p.

For those who have read the first book in this series, The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, you will need no introduction to the marvellous 11 yr old, Flavia de Luce. For any others, you must read this book and get to know the precocious and hilarious Flavia, who is in fine form here.

Rupert Porson, puppeteer extraordinaire, turns up in the churchyard of Flavia's small English village when his van breaks down. Flavia, not surprisingly, is relaxing in the graveyard and gets into the middle of things as the Vicar asks Rupert and his assistant Nialla to put on a show while they wait for their vehicle to be repaired.

A beautiful description of a marionette show follows, but then, of course, there is a sudden and unexpected death. Flavia's curiosity and chutzpah (and her youthful age yet lack of any adult supervision) give her entrée into places in the village which the police can't get to. Her chemistry experiments also provide her with vital clues, and she solves the case before the police do. The scene is which she is patiently explaining it all to the Inspector, while also offhandedly noticing the admiring looks she is getting, is quite entertaining.

The mystery in this volume is more front and centre than in the first, and there is less of Flavia's family and surroundings, which is too bad. I really liked those parts of the first book. However, this book highlights Flavia herself, and really, she is the main event in this series. In this one Flavia is hilarious as she speeds around the village chasing down clues and sneaking into various places, including an undertaker's viewing room. Even at home her sardonic voice can't stop observing and analyzing, much to the reader's amusement. Here she is commenting on Beethoven's Fifth, when she and her sisters are forced to listen to it as part of her father's attempt at a family 'music night' tradition:

Although he was a very great musician, and a wizard composer of symphonies,
Beethoven was quite often a dismal failure when it came to ending them. The Fifth was a perfect case in point.

I remembered that the end of the thing, the allegro, was one of those times when Beethoven just couldn't seem to find the "off" switch.

Dum...dum...dum-dum-dum, it would go, and you would think it was over.

But no --

Dum, dah, dum, dah, dum, dah, dum, dah, dum, dah, dum -- DAH dum.

You'd get up and stretch, sighing with satisfaction at the great work you'd just listened to, and suddenly:

DAH dum. DAH dum. DAH dum. And so forth. DAH dum.

It was like a bit of flypaper stuck to your finger that you couldn't shake off. The bloody thing clung to life like a limpet.

I remembered that Beethoven's symphonies had sometimes been given names: the Eroica, the Pastorale, and so forth. They should have called this one the Vampire, because it simply refused to lie down and die.

In this volume Flavia also takes revenge on her oldest sister Ophelia (Feely) for tormenting her with the suggestions that a) Flavia is adopted or b)their mother never liked her and died as a result of Flavia's birth. In the first volume, Flavia decants an allergen to add to Feely's cosmetics; in this, she cleverly adds a sulphurous element to a gift of chocolate. The descriptions of Flavia busy in her chemistry lab are elegant and so clever. Full points for scientific content in these mysteries!

I find this series fun and charming thus far, and am looking forward to the third volume, which Bradley is currently working on. This book highlights the fact that Flavia's father is hopeless in the real world, and that they are quite short of money; does this suggest a money making scheme in Flavia's future? I hope so -- I can see her being successful at any kind of scheme she put her mind to.

Alan Bradley was recently the guest editor at the National Post's Afterword. He contributed some intriguing essays about how he came to write these books and how their success has affected his life. They are very short - pop over and learn a little more about him if you are so inclined.

And although this doesn't have much to do with this specific review, I encourage everyone to search out Alan Bradley's memoir from a few years ago, The Shoebox Bible, just because I like it! I found it a moving tribute to his mother, and a gentle read with some very funny scenes as well.

Once Upon a Time

It is really Spring! How do I know? Carl's Once Upon a Time Challenge is back, in its 4th incarnation. This year the sponsor and artist of the gorgeous challenge button is Melissa Nucera, whose image entitled The Queen now signals participation in one of my favourite yearly challenges.

The Once Upon a Time challenge runs from March 21 - June 30/2010. There are various levels of participation, but because I am already reading for so many challenges I am just going to pick the 'easy' level,

Quest the First: Read at least 5 books that fit somewhere within the Once Upon a Time IV criteria. They might all be fantasy, or folklore, or fairy tales, or mythology…or your five books might be a combination from the four genres.

I love reading fantasy, fairy tales and folklore, and also enjoy seeing everyone's pool of choices for this challenge - it introduces me to books I may not have thought of reading. One that I discovered this way last year is Margo Lanagan's Tender Morsels, and it is now on my own list for this year. A few more I am thinking about reading are R.J. Anderson's Wayfarer (Rebel in the UK) as I have an ARC of that one; Alice Hoffman's ya novel Green Witch; the short story collection Ladies of Grace Adieu (since I loved Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell); The Girl with Glass Feet by Ali Shaw; Prospero Lost by L. Jagi Lamplighter; or Robert Wiersma's novella The World more full of weeping. I just may join in with short story Sundays but will have to see how things go ;)

Arcadia Falls

Arcadia Falls / Carol Goodman
New York: Ballantine, c2010.
355 p.

This book's thematic refrain could be et in Arcadia ego vixi

This is the latest release by Carol Goodman, an author I love. I've read every one of her books thus far - she writes academic-based romantic suspense novels, which to me seem similar in feel to Mary Stewart or Barbara Michaels (both of whom I enjoy).

Arcadia Falls is in the same vein as Goodman's earlier novels: a middle aged woman, Meg Rosenthal, with a teen daughter named Sally, finds a new job teaching at a private school. The Arcadia School is up in the backwoods of New York State, very different from the privileged life they led before Meg's husband died. Meg has been recently widowed and left with little money, so is rather desperate for work. In addition to this, she hasn't taught in years - so when she finds this school willing to hire her, she takes the job. She is going to be teaching folklore in Arcadia, a school which began as an artists collective founded mostly by women for women.

The story is based around the original fairy tales of Vera Beecher and Lily Eberhardt, founders of the school, especially one entitled The Changeling Girl. This tale gives us clues as to the truth of Vera and Lily's relationship, and to Lily's eventual death. The atmosphere is, as always, somehow threatening amidst an apparently idyllic setting. The interplay between teachers, Dean and students is well drawn and mostly believable - but the librarian at the school only shows up in the library, not in any other place like the faculty meetings, the school's festivals, or in any educational context. She is also a rule-bound harpy hopelessly out of touch with the modern world. For obvious reasons, I wasn't too fond of her portrayal. The library itself seems from a past age, all archives and dust motes and silence - no computers, no students or much of anything else. Considering that the rest of the story has modern markers thrown in willy nilly, this seems a bit unlikely.

This was actually one of the major difficulties I had with this particular book. I am not sure why, but throughout the text our main character Meg refers to brand names, to specific stores, and so on: in one particularly jarring example (for me) she tries to remember if she's packed any dresses suitable for the faculty tea. She recalls that she had recently bought a "floral dress from Anthropologie" for her daughter and since she'd lost so much weight in her year of widowhood she could now wear that. Why say "from Anthropologie"? It took me out of the story and made me think of online shopping. Does everyone know what Anthropologie is? Couldn't the dress simply be described as a floaty floral shift? Anyhow, this kind of thing appeared a few times, and it made me think of Meg as one of those moms/teachers who is desperately trying to sound 'with it', more than anything else.

The other element I was disappointed by was the predictability of the plot. Meg just came across things that others had been hunting for for years, and seemed dense at times. Things were telegraphed early on, and the red herrings seemed half hearted. The ending was unnecessarily convoluted as well, with all the ends apparently being gathered up, then the author changing her mind and exposing that solution as untrue in favour of another one. Unfortunately, when the primary suspect is unmasked just past halfway in any book, you know that it has to be someone else after all -- not many books are half denouement. And the romantic interest for our main character was so obvious and mechanical; I didn't feel any tension or much interest in it.

But! I don't mean to sound utterly negative about the book. I suppose I simply had very high expectations as I have loved so many of Goodman's other books. I enjoyed the way she drew the history and locale of the Arcadia School. I also enjoyed the fairy tale elements quite a lot. She has a way with those themes that is really enchanting. In some ways this reminded me of the feel of Byatt's The Children's Book, mostly because of the fairy tales and art colony roots of the school, all in the early part of the century although of course this book was much less complex. It felt as if Goodman added in the modern storyline as a necessity but the historical storyline would have been enough on its own, and it was the strongest part of the book. If you also enjoy the use of fairy tales in this kind of story, try her earlier novel The Seduction of Water. That one I absolutely loved.

Against the odds

Against the odds / Marjolijn Hof; translated from the Dutch by Johanna H. Prins & Johanna W. Prins.
Toronto: Groundwood, 2009, c2006.
124 p.

Summary from the author's homepage:

Kiek’s father is a doctor who works for an international aid agency. Now he’s been sent to a distant war zone. Kiek is worried. What if he gets killed? Her mother explains there’s hardly a chance something like that will happen. Kiek wants to make the chance even smaller. She knows one child with a dead father, and one child with a dead mouse. And one child with a dead dog. But a child with a dead mouse, a dead dog and a dead father is something you won’t find very often. Kiek needs a mouse.

In the English translation, the 11 yr. old heroine's name is Kiki. And Kiki is determined to do what she can to increase the odds against her father being injured or killed in a distant war. As she says in the first paragraph of the novel:

Every now and then he went off to a war... You're heading the wrong way when you go off to a war. It's better to stay as far away from wars as you can.

This is a wonderful novel; though it is for a juvenile audience it deals with serious moral issues, with grace and with humour. Kiki is hilarious and believable, and the situation her family is dealing with is not treated in a facile way. Her concerns are taken seriously and shown to have some basis in fact.

She reminds me of some of the young girls we've seen as narrators lately in novels aimed at an adult audience: Paloma in Elegance of the Hedgehog, or Flavia de Luce in The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, or Mathilda Savitch in her eponymous book. But Kiki is more essentially still a child and although she is able to express herself in elegant language she is very much a young, powerless and struggling adolescent. Unlike these other heroines, Kiki's relationship with her mother (and absent father) is vital and strong, and she is trying to negotiate the balance between her love for her father and her anger that he would leave them and put himself in danger.

Kiki's mother takes the time to explain why her father feels compelled to act as a doctor in these dangerous situations, even if it means he has to leave his family for a while. Ethical and compassionate considerations are explained clearly, and Kiki's reaction to them is explored deeply. There is so much in this brief narrative. The main characters, Kiki's nuclear family, are clear and complex individuals. Her paternal grandmother is also a strong character when she appears halfway through the book, and her outwardly rude behaviour is identified as being her reaction to worry. The story has so much compassion for each character's inner life, and talks about understanding one another, about understanding what each person is feeling that might cause their behaviours. This small novel has endless points of discussion, and I feel that the author's approach and her soulful writing can serve as a great tool to spark empathy among readers.

Not only the human characters, but the animal ones, dogs and mice alike, are also carefully drawn. Caring for those who need you is a major theme of the book. Their fat dog Mona is not a favourite of Kiki's but by the end they have worked out a detente. And Kiki's mouse Squeaky also becomes important to her. Here she is trying to wheedle a sickly animal out of the pet shop employee so that she can own a creature who dies, in order to increase the odds of her father returning home safely:

"I want another mouse," I said.
The boy from the pet store showed me the mouse cage. There were about ten little mice.
"Don't you have any old mice?" I asked.
"Nobody wants an old mouse," the boy said.
"But I do. I want an old mouse. Or a sick mouse."
"We don't sell sick mice," the boy said. "What is it you really want?"
"I'd really like a very old mouse," I said.
The boy looked at me. "Forget it! What for? Do you have a snake?"
"No," I said.
"But that's normal," the boy said. "Some snakes eat mice."
"It's for school," I lied. "At school we're talking about helping others. About old people and sick people and how you have to take care of them."
"And?" the boy said.
"And old animals," I said. "The ones nobody wants to own anymore, because they'll die soon. First I wanted an old cat from the shelter, but my mother wouldn't get me one. But she'll let me have an old mouse."
"Ok, then," said the boy.
I didn't know I was such a good liar. Of course I had lied before, but usually it didn't work. My mother could almost always tell by my face, and at school they hardly ever believed me. But the boy at the pet store looked at me and didn't guess a thing.
"I can get good grades with it," I said.

I loved this book, and read it quickly in one evening. As I mentioned, it is very brief. However, the writing was so wonderful that I am planning on reading it once more before returning it to the library. This is a book that could be used in a book club for younger readers, or a Mother-Daughter kind of book club. The themes are well drawn, yet it doesn't feel like an "issue novel". Each character is original and feels so real. The story deals with serious issues in an entertaining, humorous and yet respectful manner. Highly recommended.

International Women's Day: a celebration in poetry

Happy International Women's Day! Hope all of you had a great day and celebrated in some way.


For my part, I read this wonderful collection of poetry:

Hooked / Carolyn Smart
London, ON: Brick Books, c2009.
120 p.

This collection is made up of 7 monologues, all recreating or reinhabiting women who struggled with life, artistically, mentally, morally. As the author says, she was interested in them because "All the women are addictive personalities: Myra is addicted to murder, Unity is addicted to Hitler, several are addicted to alcohol and drugs, some are addicted to love itself. I think there is a hook in everyone, somewhere". They are women who were all born previous to World War II and spent their lives in that stretch of the 20th Century that brought so much change into women's places in our world. Some are artists, some were women who held a place in the public imagination for unpleasant reasons. The seven women are: Myra Hindley, Unity Mitford, Zelda Fitzgerald, Dora Carrington, Carson McCullers, Jane Bowles, and Elizabeth Smart.

Each poem sequence talks about their lives, how they developed into the person they were known for, and then takes us to the end of their lives as well. Some parts are disturbing, some heart wrenching. Even with the obvious repulsion involved in reading about someone like Myra Hindley, Smart manages to capture our attention and fascinate. I read each section separately over the last week or two, and found it a good way to really get a picture of the women she is portraying. One thing I found appealing is that is about women who can not be idealized or romanticized. Some of them are repugnant, some simply unpleasant, but there is no sentimental adoration of women just for being women. Their lives are clearly apprehended as complex and they have no special dispensation of grace simply by the fact of being female.

The format is also quite accessible. It is easily read because of its narrative style; if you like biography in poetic form this one may appeal. If you haven't read a lot of poetry but want to start, this would be a good beginning - the story line of each section makes the poems very comprehensible.

They've come up with an ingenious way to share these poems as well, Hooked In House, in which one actress, Nicky Guadagni, shares bits from each monologue while you eat and move from room to room to hear from the different women Smart inhabits here. That sounds like an amazing experience, though I think it would be a little chilling to listen to the Myra Hindley voice, in particular.

If you'd like to hear Carolyn Smart reading from this collection herself, here is a video to take a listen to.



**NB - I should add that I received this copy from Brick Books (thanks!!) and that they are having a huge 35th Anniversary Sale until the end of April! Go check it out.

Grenadian Banana Bread

I just read Ann Vanderhoof's latest travel memoir, The Spice Necklace, and loved it. One of the things I found intriguing were the recipes at the end of each chapter, highlighting a speciality of the island she had been visiting in that chapter. Chapter 1 featured her time in Grenada, where the primary export is (was?) nutmeg. After Hurricane Ivan, hundreds of the nutmeg trees were destroyed and Grenada is just beginning to recover from that damage.

In light of the importance of nutmeg to the island, Vanderhoof included a few recipes featuring the spice at the end of the chapter. The one which caught my eye was "Grenadian Banana Bread with Chocolate, Rum and Nutmeg" (just those words alone were irresistible!) So here is my first attempt at this loaf; after one slice I can tell you it won't be my last! It is like a fruit bread in its consistency, but very redolent with cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger and clove, with an aroma of rum. Delicious, and very rich - you won't need a lot at one time. The Spice Necklace is now available everywhere, pick up a copy for a fascinating travel read and lots of tempting recipes.

A Gathering of Links

Just a quick post today to share a few of the interesting and exciting bookish links I've been looking at lately.

********************************

First, I am so thrilled that the winner of this year's Kobzar Literary Award is Randall Maggs, for his poetic biography of Terry Sawchuk, Night Work: the Sawchuk Poems. I love this book, and not just because of the Ukrainian connection, even if that is what made it eligible for the Kobzar Award, a function of the Canadian Shevchenko Foundation. I was lucky enough to be able to bring Randall (and his wonderful publisher, Brick Books) to my library in January as a part of Hockey Day in Canada celebrations; the reading was fascinating and Randall Maggs himself an inexhaustible source of great stories, told with humour and a bit of sting. Congratulations to both Randall and Brick Books for their success!

*********************************

In other bookish news, the Canada Reads debates are set to go as of Monday; you can follow along with the debates on CBC Radio or their youtube channel.

If you are more into Canada Also Reads, well, you can read all the essays defending the book choices and then vote for your pick (you can do that now, and you do not have to be Canadian to participate!) Our own blogging Canadian Book Challenge host, John Mutford, is defending Steve Zipp's Yellowknife which I know many of those participating in the Challenge have read. There are also other blog favourites in the lineup, like Cathy Marie Buchanan's The Day the Falls Stood Still, and Jessica Grant's Come, Thou Tortoise. Take a look, if nothing else you will find fabulous reading suggestions. These are the three titles I've already read, and I am currently approaching Jocelyne Allen's You and the Pirates as well as the online edition of Stacey May Fowles' Fear of Fighting.

* here are my reviews of the ones I have read:

Yellowknife by Steve Zipp

The Day the Falls Stood Still by Cathy Marie Buchanan

Come, Thou Tortoise by Jessica Grant

**************************************

And now, two of my favourites things in one story, Alexander McCall Smith and his tea addiction! He explains in this article why we should drink tea:

A person who is troubled in heart can drink tea and for a moment feel happier about life. A person who is happy with his lot can drink it and perhaps think about those who are not quite so happy. Members of Parliament may drink it – at our expense – and not feel too guilty.

And he points out why it is necessary to carry tea making implements with one when one travels (especially to America). It is a charming and amusing essay, an ode to my favourite beverage by one of my favourite authors.

Vanderhoof's Spice Necklace

The Spice Necklace / Ann Vanderhoof
Toronto: Doubleday, c2010.
480 p.

I read the first book by this author, An Embarrassment of Mangoes, quite a few years back and recall thinking it was okay, nothing special. Rich people running off for a year in the tropics, ho hum. Of course, back then I rarely read nonfiction and was not such a big fan of food writing. So when I received this book from the publisher, I thought, oh, that looks interesting, and promptly put it aside.

However, I began to read it over my break and realized it was actually really great fun. This book details the second trip Ann Vanderhoof and her husband took around the Caribbean, a two year hiatus in their sailing boat, leaving behind their busy Toronto lives. It details all the people they have met in their sojourns, fascinating people in unfamiliar surroundings. And for each chapter, which revolve around spices, there are three or four recipes at the close. Yummy recipes. I've already marked a few that I want to try out, including Grenadian Spice Bread, a loaf made with nutmeg (Grenada's primary export), rum and chocolate, irresistible, really.

The writing is fluid and entertaining, and had a lot more information about the places they visited and the people from those places than about their own angst and reasons for fleeing Toronto again. Which was nice. I was certainly more interested in their actual experiences than their reasons for visiting in the first place! Each island is really brought to life with descriptions of flora and fauna, a bit of history, some particular food that each place is known for, and of course, the people who live there. The stories of Ann and her husband trying out 140 proof alcohol made me laugh, and the stories of their randomly coming across amazing fry bread just made my mouth water. Luckily the recipe was included.

I enjoyed this book, finding it a good one to pick up and put down in between other readings, and I've found a bunch of new recipes to try out (even if there were a lot of things a vegetarian had to overlook...). It's even made me want to go back and reread her first book again, to see if my older self has a different opinion than my younger self did. This reading experience felt like a holiday in itself, and brought the locations they visited into three dimensional life. Really enjoyable.

***Addendum: until March 10, Canadians can enter to try to win a copy of this book from the publisher...Good luck!