Prodigal Daughter

Prodigal Daughter / Myrna Kostash
Edmonton: University of Alberta Press, c2010.
328 p.

This was a fascinating travel memoir by Canadian writer Myrna Kostash. I was originally interested because of our shared Ukrainian heritage (her other work has been quite focused on Ukrainian-ness). But this turned out to be a wider exploration of Orthodoxy than I'd expected, and taught me so, so much about the history of Orthodoxy from Greece to Byzantium and the Balkans, to the outer reaches of Ukraine. It covers the entire region, using St. Demetrius of Thessalonica (illustrated with one example of his icon on the cover) to tie her search together.

I found it illuminating that in her travels, a priest tells her that the Orthodox are not defined by nationhood (ie: Ukrainian, Greek, Bulgarian...) but rather belong to one state, that of the Oikoumene -- like a Commonwealth -- a word that is obviously related to "ecumenical". It makes for a detailed and absorbing story as Kostash travels throughout the region, tracking down sightings of Demetrius, visiting monasteries, talking to scholars with diverse ideas on the range of Demetrius' miracles and where his holy relics lie. She's not limited to one country but rather is tracking down the history of an idea.

Kostash has roots in Orthodoxy, something my own Ukrainian family was not connected with, so I don't have a personal link to the icons and rituals she discusses in the book. However, she makes her search wide-ranging and yet particular enough that I found it both comprehensible and fascinating. Her encounters with locals, priests and scholars alike, and with her friends in the many countries she visits, paint a colourful picture of a part of the world I really know little about. I feel I know much more about the deep lines of conflict and cooperation that exist between these countries -- lines that are evident even (and perhaps especially) in terms of religion.

I had to read it slowly, and take each chapter as a separate trip in itself, but by the time I reached the end of the book and found Kostash returning to the beginning again -- the door of her childhood church -- I felt it had created a complete circle for the reader. We were seeing the same setting with eyes that had been opened by history. I was impressed by the depth of research in this book, as well as the open questioning Kostash had about the place of religion in her life and her work. I don't often find, in a book not intended for a religious audience, the kind of discussion about faith which she includes, and it was rather intriguing, actually.

If you like church history (which I happen to), or history of the Balkan regions, or travel writing -- well, you will find something to love here. I especially enjoyed her retelling of the life of Demetrius and her explanations of the conventions of icon writing.

Once again, Kostash has written a book thoroughly grounded in scholarship and yet tied to her own life and our current society. It is quite an accomplishment.

Artificial Silk Girl

The Artificial Silk Girl / Irmgard Keun; translated by Kathie von Ankum
New York: Other Press, 2011, c1932.

I've never read this author before, but thanks to Other Press I was made aware of this book, with a cover that caught my eye immediately.

I enjoyed it, for many reasons. One reason is simply its construction: it is putatively Doris' diary, and while it isn't made up of dated 'Dear Diary' entries, it has the honest tone that comes from writing for oneself, with all the foibles of others as well as the self set down. She also has a couple of evocative sentences here and there to remind us that she is writing all of this down for us -- here's one example:

I continue to write because my hand wants something to do and my notebook with its white lined pages has a kind of readiness to receive my thoughts and my tiredness and to be a bed that my letters can lie in. That way at least part of me has a place to lie down.

We meet Doris when she is a white collar worker in small town Germany, dissatisfied and frustrated with her office life. She lives with her mother and her boorish stepfather who only pays attention to her when he's taking a cut of her salary to support the household (ie: buy himself more beer). She feels that she needs to take advantage of her youth while she has it, and find herself a rich man somewhere to be supported by. She doesn't wish to turn into someone like her mother or her married coworker, who've settled for what they could get and are making the best of it, with limited romantic and financial horizons. In a moment of weakness she steals a fur coat from a self-important, mean woman in her neighbourhood and flees to Berlin.

Her life changes utterly. She whirls around Berlin trying to find a place to settle, searching for a man to support her without selling herself into vulgar prostitution. Attaining a position as a mistress is much more dignified; in fact she finds herself a perfect sugar daddy for a short while, until his wife reappears. Poor Doris is on the street and at her wits end when she's rescued by a gentle man who takes her into his home, at which point she falls into her first experience of true love. Unfortunately it comes to naught and she is left on her own again.

Doris has been compared in some publicity to Carrie Bradshaw or Bridget Jones. I think these comparisons are totally off base. Doris has an edge of desperation, experiences real danger, and lives in an early 1930s German society that doesn't support the attainment of her dreams. She reminds me much more of the heroines of Elaine Dundy's The Dud Avocado (in her restless search for relationship) and especially Stefan Zweig's Post Office Girl (in her sense that she deserves much more and life has unfairly limited her due to circumstance). Keun's sense of the society she is writing within and about is very strong, and the light tone of Doris' words is often belayed by the sense of what she is relaying. For example, she meets some early Nazis in the bars from whom she cheekily refuses a proposition by airily saying she is Jewish.

I found this book fascinating; Doris was unapologetic about her need to be admired, supported and loved, but seemed to be searching in all the wrong places for her dream. She didn't fit within the small German town or family structure she came from, and fled to make a life for herself. I admired her even while pitying her situation. The story was brash and didn't try to make Doris likeable or pitiable; Keun is an honest writer who expresses her story clearly. Perhaps that is why her books were banned by the Nazis as they came into more power, and she eventually left Germany and shortly thereafter published After Midnight, a much more damning presentation of the Hitler government. Keun is a great discovery and provided a bracing reading experience.

White Woman on the Green Bicycle

White Woman on the Green Bicycle / Monique Roffey

(read on e-reader)

I'd heard a lot about this book and was looking forward to reading it, which I was able to do thanks to NetGalley. I'm beginning to really enjoy my Kobo! This book was a good read though I can't honestly say I loved it.

The basic story is this: Sabine is married to George. He gets a job in Trinidad, where they move from England during the height of colonial advantages. She doesn't like it much. But they stay on, through years of unrest and the uprising of a Trinidadian government, despite Sabine's protestations that she just wants to go home. They never return to England, in fact. Other elements: Sabine & George have a passionate though uneven marriage. They have years that they were madly in love and years when they despised each other. George has a wandering eye. Sabine develops a strange relationship with Trinidadian prime minister Eric Williams, writing him piles of unsent letters. They have a long term Trinidadian maid/nanny who is part of the family.

Out of this stew of ingredients, Roffey concocts a tasty story. A little spicy, with sex and the changing mores of England vs. Trinidad and one generation to the next compared. A little bitter, with Sabine's unhappiness flavouring the entire story. A little salty, with strong language and violence breaking through fairly often. A little fragrant, with some moments of great beauty revealed. But overall, I found it didn't fill me up.

I think part of it was that I was impatient with Sabine. She was very unhappy yet made no real effort to leave Trinidad on her own. As things got crazy, they had a chance to leave, with their two small children, but the story creakily made it so that they (literally) missed the boat. A little advance planning, people! I find this kind of plot machination takes me out of the story a bit.

The structure of the book was both well-done and a little discombobulating. It begins at the end of George and Sabine's life in Trinidad; they are old and hanging on in their long-time house. Then it flips back to the beginning of the story, and even though you already know what's going to happen, the action has you anxiously awaiting the outcome. Which was quite a feat! The story is one of Trinidad's evolution from colony to independent state, but it's also very much about the marriage of George and Sabine. Their messed-up relationship was sometimes a bit overwhelming.

One little thing that distracted me was the fact that the Trinidadian characters are referred to as "steupsing" throughout the first half of the story, and though in context you got the idea, it wasn't clear what exactly they were doing. In the first few pages of the second half, a simple sentence explains exactly what it means -- maybe it was in the editing but I think that sentence coming at the beginning of the book would have enriched my reading.

While I enjoyed the atmosphere of the book and learned a lot from it, I also wondered if I was getting a clear picture of Trinidad from a narrator who went there not by choice and repeatedly states how much she hates it. Nonetheless, it was an unusual read with an unfamiliar setting, and it was absorbing.

For some other views, see the following:

A Striped Armchair

Buried in Print

Page 247

Book Gazing

Importance of Being Seven

The Importance of Being Seven / Alexander McCall Smith

Edinburgh: Polygon, c2011.

311 p.

This is another McCall Smith book that I read while on holiday. I've been really, really looking forward to this one, as it is the latest in the "44 Scotland Street" series, featuring the eternally 6 yr old Bertie Pollock (one of the most charming children in literature, and a favourite of mine).

I've enjoyed all the books in this series, but this one was fantastic. It was the best yet, as we've come to know all the characters and follow them along many escapades throughout the previous five volumes. This book resolves some of the tensions in various storylines, giving the reader a wonderful sense of closure and satisfaction. We see some longstanding characters experience lovely moments: Bertie, Matthew & Elspeth, Domenica & Angus -- so many of these characters have great stories in this volume.

There's really not too much to say about this particular volume -- I don't want to post any spoilers, as anyone who has been reading along in this series will love it, and I want them to have the same shock of delight as they turn the pages as I did. I've even got my husband addicted to this author, and as he was reading this book I could hear laughter coming from the other room. These books provide that kind of amusement, entertainment and satisfaction in the storyline in each episode. I can't critically review it because I simply love it. So that's my summation: I loved it; I love the characters and the setting, and it's only getting better. If you love gentle satire, wry amusement, and characters either lovable or ludicrous you will find this a great read.

The Dog Who Came In From the Cold

The Dog Who Came In From the Cold / Alexander McCall Smith
Toronto: Knopf, c2011.
290 p.

I'm a big fan of light reading while on holiday. Actually, I'm a big fan of light reading a lot of the time, especially between long, serious books. Light reading that is charming, amusing and ultimately life-affirming is especially good. And I know that when I get my hands on a new Alexander McCall Smith that that is exactly what I'm going to get.

This is the second in his "Corduroy Mansions" series, and I've been awaiting a copy for a long time. (not only because this series was serialized in the Telegraph, and during the initial volume's writing, a link to a review on my blog was on their sidebar for WEEKS and was an amazing experience) It's been out in the UK for a while, and we Canadians have had to wait our turn.

But the wait is worth it! This gives us the continuing adventures of all the characters we meet in the first Corduroy Mansions novel, of which some of my favourites include the Pimlico Terrier, Freddie de la Hay, who in this installment has been recruited by MI6 to infiltrate a Russian spy ring. Chaos ensues (of course) but Freddie's human companion William gets his moment in the sun as a hero.

We also continue with the trials and tribulations of Berthea Snark and her odious son, MP Oedipus Snark, as well as her flaky brother Terence Moongrove. Literary agent Barbara Ragg continues with her editing of a book by a Himalayan Yeti (who is spotted around town); Caroline and James continue with their cautious friendship/relationship (neither is sure which it is).

McCall Smith has a sure touch for the foibles of people who are simply living their lives and who get into minor scrapes frequently. The interactions, motivations and interior dialogues of his characters are fascinating, charming and illuminating. And often very funny. His mild yet twisted sense of the absurd always makes for a fun read -- perhaps because I share that appreciation for the ridiculous. However, even with all the poking-fun McCall Smith is never mean. I do like that; we can find the behaviour of people amusing but also give them the dignity of a human being at the same time.

A predictably enjoyable read, McCall Smith captures London in this series and involves us in the lives of a whole new set of characters. Although I don't love these characters the way I love Bertie and company from Scotland Street, Edinburgh, this series is still fun and light and full of great moments. Well worth reading-- if you've been avoiding this author because of his vast popularity, do yourself a favour and give him a try anyhow.

Dreaming in A Digital World

Dreaming in a Digital World / Blanche Howard
Bev Slopen Edition, 2010 (ebook only)
Words: 83047 (approximate)

I read this book on my holiday: my goodness, is an ereader convenient for travelling! Actually I've become accustomed to my Kobo much faster than I'd anticipated, and enjoy reading on it now. I was also very lucky that I was able to finally read this book by Blanche Howard, as it has been published in ebook format only, which I absolutely did not read before I bought an ereader, as reading for any length of time on a computer is just not tenable.

Anyhow, all that to say that this is one of the books I really enjoyed on my holiday. I read another of her novels, Penelope's Way, for last year's Canadian Book Challenge and greatly enjoyed it. This novel is quite different -- the main character is a computer programmer and one of the only women in the field (it's set in the 80s). It involves programming, passionate affairs, plentiful office politics, and the possibility of artificial intelligence. Oh yes, also lots of dream analysis.

While I was reading I kept being reminded of Connie Willis, who I've been reading a lot of lately. This was because of the themes of the book: a smart woman having to make it in a man's world, with a setting in the sciences, and the voice of the narrator which could have come out of a Willis novel. These comparisons are a positive, in my mind -- this book was enjoyable and had a lot going for it. It felt modern and yet dated at the same time, showing the vast distance between the period when computers were new, and huge, and a 486 was top of the line and today, when we take this all for granted and expect the power from our smart phones that used to exist only in a computer that took up a whole floor of an office building.

The story follows Genevieve Varley, who works in a software company that resembles an insurance office more than Google. It's very structured and the boss is old-fashioned (read, misogynistic) so that Gen has difficulty getting her work recognized, although she is the top performer. There is only one other female programmer, an older woman fond of quoting Shakespeare and having a regular tipple. Nonetheless, this woman is a genius and near the end of her tenure takes a strong liking to Gen, changing their lives forever.

In between our meeting Gen as she is promoted to the 26th floor and seeing her startling decision near the end of the book, we follow her struggles to find her place as a woman in this changing world. She's fine with her brilliance but her bosses and her boyfriends have difficulties. She has a life-shattering affair (with someone who seems to me frankly unworthy of her ardour), then tries to recover and finds another love which doesn't work out quite as planned. She has a friendship with the boss' dishy secretary Linda, who is a lot more savvy than she lets on. Her parents live nearby and she has a good relationship with them as well. All in all, she seems quite a well adjusted, normal woman: it's her job that's the problem.

In the novel we learn quite a bit about the vagaries of computers in the early days and the issues women faced. At first I found it a bit much -- really? That much sexism even then? I wasn't sure I believed it. But then I thought about it, and during the years the book was set I wasn't yet in the depths of the working world, so couldn't know whether or not this level of sexism still existed. But considering that my math teacher in those years was a raging sexist, refusing to admit that I was top of the class or let me answer any questions that might make the boys in the class feel bad (his words), I guess there was still sexism especially in the fields of math and science. And we know that in this field of computers even today there is a preponderance of men, with women hitting what's known as the Silicon Ceiling. But women these days are fighting that.

Got a bit sidetracked there! Back to this novel...it was a good read that obviously made me think about a lot of things. I enjoyed it, and found it good holiday reading. However, there was a fair bit of rumination going on, and that slowed down the progress of the story at times. Also, the heavy reliance on discussion of Gen's dreams felt a little, well, you know when someone is telling you their dream and it doesn't really make sense to you because you can't picture the images they're trying to get across and you don't have access to the inchoate emotion attached to the dream and it just begins to feel tedious and boring because you Just Don't Care? That feeling. I ended up skipping over a lot of her exposition of the actual dreams just to get back to the action.

But I still enjoyed reading this and am grateful to the publisher for making me aware of it so that I could try it out. There was mystery and science-y bits and romance and action and Shakespeare quoting women...all in all, many of the things I love! It was entertaining and certainly an unusual read for my Canadian challenge.

Blog Hop: Bibliotherapy

While I was on my holidays, I missed The Blue Bookcase's Literary Blog Hop -- in fact, I wasn't aware of this event previously -- but I just saw it over at C'est La Vie and although I am a couple of weeks late, I must join in and answer their very appropriate question!

The topic:
Discuss Bibliotherapy. Do you believe literature can be a viable form of therapy? Is literary writing more or less therapeutic than pop lit or nonfiction?

This topic is very close to my heart, both as a librarian and as an owner of a company devoted to the principles of bibliotherapy, Four Rooms Creative Self Care.

I think it's important first of all to note that there are two generally accepted forms of bibliotherapy: clinical and creative or developmental. Clinical Bibliotherapy is practiced by therapists and licensed professionals, and incorporates the use of non-fiction, topically relevant books for the patient's needs, to be read and responded to under the guidance of the professional.

Creative Bibliotherapy, on the other hand, is aimed at healthy populations. Its intent is to provide an arena for people facing regular life transitions and troubles to explore the possibilities for the story of their own life. Literature, both fiction and poetry, is used to share the creative ways in which other people perceive the world and face the same kinds of dilemmas that a reader might. Reading in this case gives us words for experiences or emotions that are common to all humanity -- and once we can recognize and name such things they become vastly more manageable. Reading gives us the chance to explore life from inside another person's head, to develop empathy and at the same time to give us the chance to distance ourselves a bit from our own crises and provide a bit of perspective. Besides simply content, the act of reading itself is healthy -- it builds new neural pathways and increases brain health, while giving our minds the opportunity to slow down and find relief from everyday stressors.

Bibliotherapy involves writing as much as reading. Responding to and exploring our reactions to our reading is an important factor in metabolizing our experience of a book. In our writing we discover our impressions of plot, character, setting and why we might have loved/hated or been especially affected by any of these elements. With some thoughtful examination we can understand more about life than we did before we read a particular book. This calls for a conscious, active style of reading and a willingness to respond to a work of literature.

While I think that "literary fiction" and poetry are very suited to this approach because of their natural inclination to explore the grey areas of life and more serious issues overall, a good genre novel can speak to our particular situation as well. Reading a Great Novel out of a sense of obligation will only feel like homework -- if, rather, you prefer science fiction, romance, or westerns, then read those with attention. As a bibliotherapist I try to match reading preferences with themes that connect with the client's needs, and to facilitate deeper exploration of what the books offer.

As to some of the concerns that others who've responded to this question have raised about reading being counterproductive in some situations, it may be true in some cases. In such, however, it seems to be that a clinical relationship is called for. Therapists recognize situations in which they need to limit rather than encourage journal writing; the same could be true of addictive reading that is an avoidance strategy rather than a healthy habit.

In Creative Bibliotherapy we can approach such health issues as low-grade depression and find benefit (severe clinical depression should always be treated medically). The immensely successful British The Reader Organisation has just published a study of the benefits of group reading via Get Into Reading, one of their core programs.

While the last thing I wish to do is to reduce literature to a basic "usefulness factor" I think we can recognize the power of all Art, but especially the interior nature of literature, to enrich our lives and help us along our way.

Everything Beautiful Began on Holiday!

My recent holiday took me away from my blog for longer than I'd expected! It was a great holiday and I wasn't around the computer much. So of course I have many reviews to catch up on, because the actual reading of books didn't really cease at the same time ;)

This is what I have to inspire me to get back into blogging: a lovely tote and Simon Van Booy's newest, Everything Beautiful Began After, from Harper Perennial (they're thematically linked as well; there's a quote from Van Booy on the other side of the bag). What a great pair of bookish delights!


As for the holiday, well, I was all over the place. For example, in the Rockies of Alberta:

And then closer to home, I visited "Castle Kilbride", an 1877 mansion restored to glory -- and museum status -- by the town of Baden. It was quite lovely.

In fact, when it was built it was so fancy that it even had a proverbially-constructed double privy out back. Pretty fancy stuff! (no longer in use, of course...)


There were a few more outings but now it is back to the old routine: work and read and work again. Hopefully the relaxation effect will last as long as possible!