RIP CHALLENGE

I did Carl's RIP Challenge a few years back and did I ever enjoy!

I have been hankering for Fall more than ever this year ( probably due to how hot and unbearably humid Toronto has been this week ) and I am aching for scarves and cups of tea and foggy, dark Autumn nights with sleeked wet pavement, low-light and a good book.

A good gothic-type book with the hooves of hansom cabs; the flicker of kerosene; the dense atmosphere; a murder or two....

So, I am excited EXCITED to take part in this challenge!

I have decided to read the following for this year's RIP CHALLENGE:

1.) Where Serpent's Sleep by C.S. Harris

2.) Edgar Allen Poe's Tales of Mystery and Madness

3.) The Perfume of the Woman in Black ( and other stories ) by Gaston LeRoux

4.) The Keeper of Secrets by Judith Cutler

(5.) optional: The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane by Katherine Howe

I also really enjoy the fact that there is a film component to this challenge. For this, I plan to view:

The 39 Steps

Double Indemnity

the Big Sleep

a cornucopia of books I have read recently whilst i have been avoiding this blog

The Book of Fires by Jane Borodale is set in 18^th Century rural England and London. After surviving a hellish rape and subsequently stealing enough to forge her way to the grimy and vast city of London, Agnes begins a life pregnant and alone.

With the exception of a tawdry and mysterious woman she meets on the coach, Agnes is altogether alone. Happenstance finds her on the doorstep of the Rochester-like Mr. Blacklock; a surly and seemingly meretricious man whose great possibility lies in his quest to add light to fireworks. As his assistant, Agnes deals in all manner of pyrotechnics; liaises with the other mistresses of the Blacklock household and flirts with the advances of a mature admirer or two.

This book is dense and the writing is beautiful. I found the subject matter and Borodale’s attention to detail captivating. Moreover, I enjoyed the unique feel of the book and the wholly unexpected turn at the ending.

Readers of Geraldine Brooks will be in their element.

I have also read the entire Isabel Dalhousie series by Alexander McCall Smith. Isabel Dalhousie is an erstwhile detective with a tender and seminal perspective into human psyche, morality and a casual judiciousness which sets her apart from numerous other female detectives. With the same quirk, warmth and heart as Smith’s other great lady detective, Isabel is rather the Precious Ramotswe of Edinburgh. Smith paints his native Scotland with a coloured grey light often calling on Auden and Burns to collaborate in his portrait.

C.S. Harris is my other discovery of late, What Angels Fear was intended as a quick beach read; but I soon found myself falling for the series. I have heard the hero, Sebastian St. Cyr referred to as a hybrid of Mr. Darcy and James Bond and this representation is accurate. Harris writes a gripping and graphic mystery and the first two of the series ( the rest are already checked out of the library ) were wonderfully-paced and chockfull of interesting tidbits from the Regency Era. The inclusion of politics and the seedy underworld of England at that time are well-rendered and I especially love her characterization of the foppish and boorish Prince Regent himself.

A Civil Contract by Georgette Heyer was a book I had wanted to read for quite awhile. I had heard it didn’t fall in line with the traditional romance ---- especially not any romance of Heyer’s ilk. What I found instead was a careful meeting of minds. A marriage of convenience, tradition and civility that blossomed not into passionate love rather into mutual understanding and respect. I must admit to being someone devoid of my usual Heyer-fulfillment at the end due to the fact that Jenny’s long unrequited love for the dashing and solemn Adam was not reciprocated in the way she desired. Instead, it seemed as if she was settling for the only love from him she was likely to have. The story wrapped up neatly; but not with the same heart-stopping felicitation as other Heyer novels. This certainly made it more believable and certainly the dark undertone of the story spoke to Heyer’s malleability and craft. That being said, I read Heyer for romanticism and while I got it in a small scooping, I wish I had been overcome with it at the end of the novel. A very well written book.

The Help by Kathryn Stockett was one of the best-written books I have read in an age. Mindful of its hype, I stepped in hoping it would make a passable plane read. It certainly did. I read it in the 9 hours from Austria to Toronto. The vernacular of the two contrasting African American maids and the southern white woman who records their circumstances and stories is nothing short of amazing. Stockett permeates her book with a strong emotional conscious reflective of her own experience with her own maid. At once heart-warming, tragic and amusing, the book holds all the yo-yo ups-and-downs of real life. Moreover, it boasts a contextual relevance and inspires a frightening realization that the history so painfully rendered in the novel is not so far off.

Incoherent ramblings about the BBC Sherlock: Part 1 A Study in Pink

DISCLAIMER: this is just me rambling on and on and on....

The BBC Sherlock is the greatest thing to ever happen to the world. Seriously.

The absolute best thing to ever happen to the world.

For a Sherlockian, there is a ton here to be geeked out about and I don’t really know where to start because practically every minute offers something that makes me clap and giggle and jump up and down.

So, to begin on what may just turn out to be the best and most complete rendition of the canon since Jeremy Brett, I really should take us episode-by-episode.

First off, if I have not alluded to this before, I am a massive SH fan. I have been since I was in grade 9 and read Silver Blaze for a class assignment ( followed by every subsequent short story and novel ---56 of one, 4 of the other )

So, this massive SH fan was very uber excited to see how the genius behind  Dr. Who would give a modern adaptation of Sherlock treatment.

I have always thought that SH could easily be transplanted into the 21^st Century because his brilliant mind is not exclusive to Victorian sensibility and his methods and deduction are so precise they could easily take a sharp-shooter approach to modern crime. Holmes’ fascination with forensics and his ability to observe what others have merely seen are certainly not century-specific. With this deduction --- not agnostic to time--- he could easily apply his genius to modern day London. Moreover, the characters and specifically the relationship between Watson and Holmes is what is so lasting about the series.

A Study in Pink, the first of the three part series, is a wonderful re-imagining of the first story introducing Holmes and Watson. It first appeared in serial format in Beeton’s Christmas Annual and propelled the characters into almost instantaneous fame. The most pivotal moment of the story is when Stamford introduces Watson to Holmes after determining that each is looking for a flat mate.

This immortal scene, set in St. Bart’s Hospital, has even been commemorated in London with an historic plaque. The meeting is here modernized; but its exposition is almost exactly the same.

Set up: Watson, having returned from the modern conflict in Afghanistan, has been suffering from a psychosomatic limp and seeing a therapist who attempts to work through his trust issues and wean him away from his horrific experiences by encouraging him to keep a blog. This, for narrator ( or Boswell ) Watson, is a stroke of genius in the modern adaptation. Watson is given an introduction as a writer and a perfect platform to relay his adventures with Sherlock. He runs into an old colleague and expresses the state of his dwindling army pension ( see: original ). Stamford introduces him to Sherlock who immediately observes his military bearing and his need to go “snacks” ( that’s Conan Doyle terminology ) on a flat in Baker Street.

Sherlock is introduced staring interestingly at a cadaver which he subsequently takes a riding crop to in hopes of highlighting bruising which would crack a case. This is, of course, barbaric way to meet someone and certainly not Inspector Barnaby but it is wholly canonical and thus alright with me.

The visuals in the series and the representation of Sherlock’s genius are very well married to the modern feel of the production. For example, when Sherlock is explaining how he knew so much about Watson on first observation, there is a freeze-framed flashback of what Sherlock saw on Watson’s physiognomy and on his phone ( rather like the moment he deduced that Watson’s brother was a drunk in the Adventures). Watson is, of course, thoroughly impressed and their relationship established.

As in the series, Sherlock is always flattered and surprised when Watson compliments him. The canon recites him “blushing like a school girl” when Watson or Lestrade praised his methods: offering a funny counterpoint to the often arrogant attitude he displays.

The mystery itself is intriguing as it presents a puzzle of seeming murder-suicides, the key being a lady in pink who breaks the trend of all previous victims. As in A Study in Scarlet, it appears as if she was writing the word “RACHE…” on the floor before she expired.

Watson and Sherlock attempt to crack the code while pitting themselves up against a maniac who almost outsmarts Sherlock. In the end, Sherlock’s willingness to risk his life to prove himself clever is a resonating theme.

The appearance of Mycroft ( here noticeably smaller in size ) is just as poignant and wonderful as in the book.

Also, for those aching to have a little Moriarty in their Mystery: the famed arch-villain is certainly alluded to.

One of my favourite scenes has Watson questioning Holmes about a mysterious person he has met:

“ I just met a friend of yours”,he explains. Sherlock, having no friends, is absolutely baffled. As soon as Watson responds with “An enemy” Sherlock immediately says” which one?”

Another favourite moment establishes the reticence of the police to work with Holmes. While Lestrade certainly summons him when they are out of their depth, his team, as is the case in the novels, is not so willing to oblige.

Anderson, a forensics expert calls Holmes a psychopath to which Holmes replies: “I’m not a psychopath! I’m a functioning socio-path. Do your research.”

{The above are infinitely better when seen on screen}

Not That Kind of Girl Blog Tour

For a practicing Evangelical Christian ( who posts regularly about Christian fiction) , I was very interested to read about a woman who had discovered life outside of the confines of her Evangelical upbringing.

I enjoyed reading Carlene Bauer's well-written memoir, Not That Kind of Girl which provided an expose on the difficulties of balancing a truth ingrained since childhood with a palpable discovery of a new world as an artist, writer and New Yorker.


Where does one draw the line between what one believes intrinsically and what has been emblazened on one as a sort of second-hand tradition as a product of environment?-- such is Bauer's thesis in what is a gripping and irreverent memoir.

I didn't find this at all an attack on Christianity, fundamentalism or Evangelical life: rather an observation laced with personal anecdotes. Bauer's experience is certainly not universal and while those who are not connected or familiar with the church will indeed be strangers to a lot of the lingo she uses, the themes of insecurity, developing as a person and writer and deciding what, if anything, constructs faith are universal.

A true kuntslerroman, familiarity with literature ( especially of the Beatnik and College Survey course ilk ) are certainly helpful in piecing together the patchwork of Bauer's experience.


Descending from Plath and her contemporaries, Bauer is very interested in capturing moments: fleeting or prolonged in a melange of words carefully formatted to reflect the avant garde poetry she enjoys.

While this at times seems forced, especially in a memoir, and bogs down the otherwise readable prose, her inner artistry and penchant for craft are apparent.


What resonated most with me (a Christian who longs for intelligence, fierce drive and a reclaiming of a religion which preaches thoughtful engagement rather than stark hatred and resentment) was Bauer's empty feeling as a burgeoning critic, reader and thinker: " there was nothing in evangelical Christianity", she writes" suggesting intelligence should be used as a weapon for God, I was sure that when people talked about using our gifts to glorify Him, it meant that Godwas going to put me to work writing devotional guides for teenage girls" (p.60). Bauer is thoughtful, angry, introspective and often right.


The saddest part of the book for me was not her personal fall from Christianity so much so that her voice had left the faith bereft: for a religion which could use a healthy dollop of intelligence and clever, snappy writing, I was sad that we (Christians) had "lost" her.


An engaging, satisfying and very different read about a spiritual journey with more than one road bump.

Bauer respects religion and often tells laugh- aloud stories of its persistence in her life: whether she is trying to run fast away or diving head first in something new.

A refreshing read.


Bauer is quite a prolific writer and you can read an interview with her here

Please visit the TLC tour homepage to learn of other blogs hosting this cutting edge book.

Please purchase a copy of Not That Kind of Girl here!


I would like to thank TLC tours for the copy of this book.
Next up on the schedule:

Monday, August 2nd: A Certain Bent Appeal
Wednesday, August 4th: Sara’s Organized Chaos

I WENT TO AUSTRIA: the post with some bookish undertones and some PICS!

I am currently waiting at Pearson airport for my friend's ultra-late flight to arrive. She had a stop-over in Chicago and seeing as it's thunderstorming there and thunderstorming here in Toronto, our paths will not cross for another---- wait for it-----2.5 hours.

Luckily, I have an Isabel Dalhousie with me and this exceptional new work laptop --- oh so light and compatible and fast and remarkable---- to help pass the time.

Also, kudos to Pearson Airport's free wireless internet.

So whilst I am stuck here.... I thought I might as well talk to all of you..... about musicals and books and musicals and WAIT! shameless Austria photos:

Vienna!

Salzburg ( home of Maria Von Trapp and Von Trapps singing and singing hills and Uncle Max and raindrops on roses and schnitzel with noodles)

Above, near where I am standing, is the gazebo that Leisl and Rolf-the-telegraph-deliverer-Hitler-youth retreated to to dance in the rain.

Exhibit B: me standing high, high atop the scaling cliffs winding to an ancient monastery, the rooftops and spires of the gorgeously Baroque city below.....

I had wanted to go to Austria since I was a little girl. In fact, my love of Austria stems from a book that I read EVERY FRAKKIN' CHRISTMAS


Since I was 11 years old, Vienna has stayed firmly in my mind as a dream place to visit. Since so few people have an almost life-long dream ( and fewer still have that dream come true), I was very blessed to go and have such a fabulous time.
I love to travel and travel as often as I can --- for work and for play---- but I always saved Austria until the time was right and I could do it in the way I wanted to.
So, I started with five glorious days in Vienna--- then a few days in Graz---- then off to Salzburg for three days ( and a slight detour to the Bavarian Mountains to see Hitler's Eagle's Nest) --- then off on a train to Innsbruck for three days ( Innsbruck was amazing) and, finally, to Zurich and Meirengen, Switzerland ( see post below ) because I am a Sherlock Holmes fanatic.
But, back to Vienna Prelude: Have you ever wanted to visit a city, town or country because of a book?
I know that traipsing around England, especially, was satisfying for someone who had spent her formative years knee-deep in Dickens. Equally so was the experience of drinking melange in the Hotel Sacher underneath the portrait of Emperor Franz Josef ---- the self-same place the hero in VP sits midway through a point in a book I almost know by heart.....
Here's a bit of what I wrote about VP on a blog I used to keep back in April 2005 when I was still in University:
Ever since I was a small kid, I have been absolutely captivated by "Vienna Prelude. I still love this book. I always will. It is historical and musical and fascinating. Elisa Lindheim ( our fair-haired protagonist ) is the daughter of a Jewish Entrepreuner but lives in Vienna under the name Linder so she is able to escape the laws forbidding Jews to play music during the lead up to the Reich.

She is a violinist with the Vienna Symphony Orchestra and spends most of her days on trains across beautiful Europe or at the Musikverein in downtown Vienna chatting up some of the hotties from the bass section. Although she looks Aryan, Germany knows the name Lindheim, and once she is seen with her father at a train station even her pseudonym cannot protect her. Her father is taken off the train and held for questioning and Elisa finds her only chance of rescuing him lies in the capable hands of a brash young American reporter who is often referred to as looking like Jimmy Stewart. Elisa and reporter John Murphy have an on-again mostly off-again romance and Elisa becomes an agent in a plan to smuggle jewish children out of Vienna with fake passports. It is nostalgia for me. I read it every Christmas. I also sell out of it quite a lot at the store. It is very romantic and it continues to make me laugh. Rudy Dorbranksky the witty and cavalier concert master who swings his violin bow around like a sword remains one of my favourite literary characters.And Elisa goes off in a taxi at one point and John screams after her while kneeling on the wet cobblestones and it makes you think of Dvorak somehow. ( everything alludes to music in this book).Vienna Prelude is the first "grown-up" book I fell in love with and, thanks to its author, I want to go to Vienna so badly my eyelids hurt.

I just got back from Vienna, Gordon, I hear ya!

A very amusing interview with famed Canadian actor Gordon Pinsent on his decision to take part in the new adaptation of Pillars of the Earth ( which we are all watching for Matthew MacFadyen and Rufus Sewell while completely disregarding the fact that it was written by Ken Follett)

Intrepid young canadian on literary pilgrimage abroad follows in Famous Detective's doomed Footsteps

I recently returned from a fabulous vacation where I traipsed around Austria for two glorious weeks. I am sure there is a lot more to come on this. I tacked on Switzerland to the end of my trip for one sole reason: Meiringen was within my grasp. All Sherlockians are familiar with the Reichenbach Falls and our famous friend’s near-destruction at the hands of the disastrous Moriarty. Literary Pilgrimages, it would seem, are alive and well in my world and I re-capped the adventure and the rather sketchy funicular for my friends. Read on Sherlockian:



Intrepid young Canadian follows in the footsteps of the doomed literary detective during an ill-fated funicular ride


Tonight is my final night in Europe.

My last clean shirt had been saved for today's momentous occasion to the Reichenbach Falls in Meiringen. The Reichenbach Falls in Meiringen, the setting for Sherlock Holmes' demise at the hands of Prof. Moriarty in "The Final Problem." Next to Baker Street ( where I have been *natch*) this is the most important landmark for a Sherlockian.I left my swanky Zurich hotel this morning very early to catch the first train out. Meiringen is a little village about two hours north of Zurich and the earlier I got there, the earlier I could ensure I got back.... I didn't want to get stuck out there forever....

The train trip was beautiful and well worth the price of the train ticket alone.... even deplete of the destination. It was through the picturesque Interlaken district and our train wove around the Alps and through tunnels and over lakes the bright aqua colour one remembers from Banff. You will laugh at my pictures.

They have certainly capitalized on the Sherlock Holmes ( read: 65 year old British male retirees who wear cargo shorts with socks up to the knee and bucket hats with straps while snapping shots with disposable cameras) tourist population.There is an Arthur Conan Doyle Platz, a Holmestrasse ( or street), a statue of Holmes, a Sherlock Holmes hotel, a Sherlock Alpen nightclub and various pictures and reminiscences and signs of Arthur Conan Doyle and Sherlock Holmes.Without Sherlock Holmes, I suspect everyone would skip poor little Meiringen.I might. I had lunch there and it SUCKED. I ordered the traditional swiss lunch: which was beer and a plate which tried to win the title of "how many colours of stewed cabbage can we fit on a platter?"

Some Sherlockians in London have paid a hefty sum for a lot of the work there but the small museum and funicular rides up the Reichenbach Falls are run by a little old Swiss lady and her husband. I loved supporting them. The museum itself has nothing really to show for it, other than a magnificent set of original Strand magazines imported from London and a recreation of the famous Baker Street drawing room.I went in with about 12 British retirees... all about 40 years older than I. I didn't care. I love Holmes.We looked around and I spoke "canon" ( that is to say, any and all things Sherlock ) with some of the men who were flabberghasted by my knowledge.What was best, is they were a bus group from the Sussex Downs ---- where I stayed when I studied in England. Knowing the region, I said: "Where in the Sussex Downs?"To which they answered: " Hastings. Have you heard of it?"Hello?! Christopher Foyle, anyone?

After, I trekked the half hour hike along the trail to reach the funicular which would speed me up the mountain for a view of the Reichenbach Falls and the great, crested stone ridge.Unfortunately, and considering how well I have struggled to conquer my fear of heights this trip (mounting a sketchy bus up that steep, foggy ridgeway to Hitler's Kehl's Stein; how I have climbed 360 steep stone stairs [ without railing, mind you ]to the Glockenspiel in Graz; how I have climbed up 280 stairs to the highest point of Innsbruck: a Cathedral-like Dome which has little to steady you from heading into the baroque rooftops of the great city; how I climbed the abbey walls in Salzburg and saw the benedictine monks atop a hill which not only looks the city over but dates back to 714.......how I climbed up to the Alpenzoo...)Here, of all places, my fear overtook me.A few notes on the rather sketchy Reichenbach "funicular":Funicular, I believe, is synonymous with a rickety old, open wooden cart a la Road Runner when Wile E Coyote is on his tail and the bridge is truncated. The open and exposed cart, or so I saw from my vantage point safely at the bottom, chugs along a very sketchy track ( the men were working on the track with hammer and nail once one funicular got back in preparation for the next) up, up, up to the top of the falls.There are no rails: just open wooden cart and tracks up the rock.Something else of note: there is an aptly placed hospital at the foot of the mountain, I assume to give solace to those who have plummeted to their death and, like Stephen Boyd in" Ben-Hur", rasping incoherently until Judah shows up, are languishing on the point of extinction.

My stomach turned and I looked up, up, up and saw the spray of the falls and looked down at the plaque noting Sherlock's apparent demise at the hands of Moriarty over said falls and thought: NO WONDER HE DIED ....( We will now give you cynics a moment to insert frustratingly:" HE NEVER LIVED"... which we will ignore).

So, I trudged back to Meiringen happy with pictures and more happy that I didn't die in a freak-literary-pilgrimage- accident ( can you imagine the Globe and Mail Headline: Intrepid young canadian on literary pilgrimage abroad follows in Famous Detective's doomed Footsteps"?) on the very last day of my holiday.

See you all soon

The Dream Thief by Catherine Webb

Readers of this blog are aware of my total passion for any and all things written by young British prodigy, Catherine Webb. I adore Catherine Webb's unique style and am so lucky to have invested in her career early on. Watching a young author develop from a young author into a literary force is a great privilege for a keen reader. Readers of this blog will be familiar with my rambling rants ACHING for a new Lyle book, will have read the interviews with Catherine Webb I have stumbled upon over the years and will have heard me squeal over and over again just how much she has revolutionized the reading experience for me. Whenever I lose my faith in literature ( for young adults or otherwise ), I remember that there are writers like her who are willing to take a risk, write passionately and gleefully and completely about what they love.

The Horatio Lyle books are about so much more than just character and plot: it’s the evolution of her writing, I appreciate, her London, the way her phrases string together, the outrageous similes, the poetry, the incessant italics, the dialogue, the stirring emotional resonance, the clips and snippets of 19th Century prose wedded with modern fantasy’s sensibility, the delicious interruptions by the narrative voice, the literal twinkle in her eye when she races to describe a scene. The fact that , while reading, you sense you are having as much fun as Webb did writing. A preternatural author-reader kinship.

The books have sparkle. They are dynamite. They are the apotheosis of clever writing within the umbrella of story arc.


The Dream Thief by Catherine Webb is the fourth offering in this incredulously inventive, wonderful, gripping, unique and imaginative series and it may, just may, have secured Webb an upgrade in the Rachel-Hierarchy-of-Author-Appreciation from favourite YA novelist to favourite contemporary novelist-- regardless of genre. Strong words indeed.

...For no other writer on the planet elicits such a euphoric, magical and sometimes physical response from me.


I ABSOLUTELY QUAKE in anticipation for these books. Unfortunately, their release dates are more often than not more than sketchy and oft-postponed. My copy was secured from amazon.co.uk due to the fact that this Lyle won’t see Canada until the Fall. Iwas in Austria on holiday when the order dispatched and I remember looking up from the public internet terminal at my hotel in Vienna and beaming at the nearest person ( whose bewildered stare could not PHASE my excitement).


My best friend Jess ( who you may remember from previous entries ) also secured a copy of The Dream Thief from the UK asked me to help her describe what makes the Horatio Lyle series so fabulous for her blog.


I summed up the way they make me feel. The EXPERIENCE of reading a Catherine Webb book supersedes mundane details like plot or review. What does the book DO to you?

For real readers, books are far more than pages between hardbound covers. REAL readers feel their senses employed.

Wrote I:


“After reading Horatio Lyle, I don’t want to read anything else for weeks. Everything tastes flat after her prose. It is really hard to pull myself from that world, so I end up starting her book at the beginning again.

Very few authors have that power over me. There is a snap there. A spark. Her books have a taste to them. I can taste and smell and see them and they whiz by in colour.

Her dialogue sticks with me forever after, and my heart literally swells. These books make me tingle! Some books are fun and amusing but don’t really elicit a physical reaction. Horatio Lyle makes me jump and giggle and clap and sigh and catch my breath and read and re-read and re-read sentences over and over again.

I want to hang on every one of her words. I forget to eat. I like to stay up late and revisit, step into her world and just revel in the corners of my imagination reserved for her fabulous workings. I like to click along with her wordy paragraphs and fall into her spell.

She often talks directly to the reader: she’ll invite you on the journey and whisper to you, with a little twinkle in her author’s eye to follow her and you see her alleyways and her London and meet her characters and smell the magnesium and drift into Lyle’s crazy laboratory and dance over stones with Lin.

These books do things to me.

I think it’s the closest I have ever been to being love-sick.”



Catherine Webb also writes adult urban fantasy under the pseudonym Kate Griffin. Visit Kate Griffin's stupendously well-written blog: here. It is one of my missions in life to ensure that all passionate readers of historical YA fiction... or just brilliant fiction.... find themselves as besotted with Lyle as I have been for four glorious years. If urban fantasy is more your cup of Earl Grey, Matthew Swift is going to tickle your fancy.

The Bridegrooms

I really enjoyed Stealing Home by Allison Pittman so I was excited when The Bridegrooms became available. I recently returned from vacation in Austria and before planning on a trip to a largely German-speaking land, I wanted to make sure I took enough English language books to keep me occupied on long train trips and in my hotels at night after exhausting days of sightseeing. Was I EVER right in bringing The Bridegrooms.

I love Americana!: the glorious and idyllic turn-of-the-century years of ice cream shoppes and peanuts, popcorn and baseball. Pittman inserts a healthy whipped-creamed dollop of nostalgia but also a sense of longing and wistfulness for an innocent time out of reach. Vada and her four sisters are startlingly different in personality and thus warrant startlingly different beaux. Not unlike Little Women, the sisters are believably rendered on page and their triumphs and travails were heartwarming! The book spans little more than a week in the life of four girls abandoned by their mother at a young age. The mystery of their mother’s disappearance and the spiriting in to town of The Bridegrooms: a raucous and rowdy baseball team are at the core of this fun and fast read. While so many authors would have planted romance blossoming from the heroine encountering an out-of-towner, Pittman chooses instead to study our concept of romance and our romantic ideals. How much romance can be found in the whirlwind of a traveling sportsman, how much romance exists in the steadfast and stalwart, if somewhat consistent, suitor from your hometown? Garrison, Vada’s patient and virtuous fiancé is absolutely one of the most winning ( if quiet and steady) heroes in Christian fiction this year. This was equally as compelling as Stealing Home. Pittman OWNS this era and I am so glad she stepped up to the plate and hit it into the Christian historical field.

Morality for Beautiful Girls ( I still love me some Alexander McCall Smith)

I was at a friend’s cottage this past weekend and we had a fabulous time! Luckily, in between outdoor adventures, trivial pursuit ( with just the cards, not the whole game ), beer, s’mores and chatting, there was time to read Morality for Beautiful Girls by Alexander McCall Smith In this sweet installment of the always-pleasing No 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency series, Mma Ramotswe has quite a bit on her plate --- even for a traditionally-built woman.

Her fiancé, the excellent Mr.J.L.B. Matekoni is suffering from the signs of depression, a Government Official believes that his sister-in-law is trying to poison his brother and bills are piling up at the agency—with few too cases to counter them. Not to mention, J.L.B. Matekoni is unavailable to work in his condition and while he hides out at the orphan farm to recuperate and take some medication, Mma Makutse ( her prickly, be-spectacled and utterly delightful secretary) finds herself the manager of Twolkeng Speedy Motors. It is a sumptuous book. Mma Ramotswe is so jolly and delightful she’s Prozac! You just feel giddy reading about her and how innately good she is.

This particular installment delves into the backstory of her adopted orphans, Puso and Motholeli and gave a bleak glimpse into the hardships African children undergo upon the death of parents. McCall Smith speaks very starkly about J.L.B’s depression and we, as well as Mma Ramotswe, not only sympathize but no what is at stake for someone so well respected to be under the cloud of such a condition. Mma Ramotswe goes undercover to a farm near her home village of Mochudi and we see, for the first time, how the legacy of her father has rippled through the local community.

I really enjoyed this book and its subtle wisdom. What a great tonic these stories are! While Mma Ramotswe is out of Gabarone, Mma Makutsi is approached by Two Shots Poulani: one of Botswana’s lead Beauty Contest orchestrators ( according to McCall Smith, beauty pageants are quite popular in Bostwana and they always jump at a chance to crown a pretty girl). Sponsors are concerned that the women parading in the pageants do not have the moral integrity needed to provide a good example to spectators. Thus, Mma Makutsi ( who, face it!, has always found women in short skirts and heels problematic due to her own dwindling self worth) has no trouble writing off girls who aren’t nearly worthy enough of the title of Miss Beauty and Integrity. When she finds a beautiful, rural girl who not only embodies the humble spirit needed of a girl of integrity but wants to attend the Botswana Secretarial College, Mma Makutsi finds herself rooting for a beauty contest contestant. All in all a charmingly wonderful story.

The Piano Teacher by Janice Lee

I recently joined a book club with some work colleagues.

I had been a previous book club in university but that turned quickly into “book club”: an excuse to get together at the pub and drink red wine and conveniently forget to read the book. Besides, one co-bookclubber wanted to read She’s Come Undone by Wally Lamb and as it wasn't 1999 and as we are no longer in high school, we cannot make excuses for that kind of thing, booksnob that we are.

So…..

This book club is meeting for the first time at a favourite haunt in the Annex on Wednesday Night and I have high hopes. Why? Because we read a book that has a lot of points for discussion.

The Piano Teacher with its startling cover, comparison to Michael Ondaatje and caption that “Sometimes the end of a Love Affair is really just the beginning” gives the impression of an exotic, perhaps tortured love story set in the orient, with colour and lovemaking and regret and loss.

It brought to mind the Painted Veil ( that gorgeously-spun book by W. Somerset Maugham) on first contact.

Reading it, however, left me with quite a different impression.

This is not a mysterious beach read. This is not the enigmatic Memoirs of A Geisha: what with its romanticized world of the mystic orient and its slowly unfurling love-story.

Instead, it is a troubled, troubled story about lust, greed, power and corruption: set against the canvas of Japanese occupied Hong Kong in the early 1940s.

Flipping to and fro from 1950s Hong Kong and the viewpoint of the English Piano Teacher,Claire Pendleton, to the wartime experiences of her love, Will Truesdale: a Britishmen helplessly in love with a Eurasian goddess, the socialite Trudy Liaing.

Will and Trudy’s wartime experience vibrates well into the next decade and, readers surmise, into generations thereafter.

This is a wonderfully written book with sparse, taught prose and a real “feel” for the time and place. Lee has done her research and her words just breathe the essence and place she is writing about.

A sometimes-problematic approach, Lee’s descent into war-time Hong Kong and back to the early 1950s runs very smoothly.

A mystery involving the famed and fictional “Crown Collection” ( an abundance of wealth the Japanese long to capture from British occupants) is the centre of many different, tragic lives.

The story’s thesis is not so much about love experienced and lost rather the lengths people will go to sustain propensity, status and wealth. Lee’s descriptions of the foreign English internment camps erected by the Japanese invaders were harrowing and sad. Indeed, I knew very little about this slice of the war before reading about it in the book.

The main problem ( and its hard to say problem because this may well be Lee’s intention ) is how unlikeable all of the characters are. I had trouble identifying with the exotic and sexualized Trudy, the proud and stiflingly honourable Will, and especially the social-climbing Claire: who pilfers trinkets and scarves from her employers when she arrives to teach daily piano lessons.

Perhaps I had trouble identifying with the characters because I refused to see what drastic measures and actions they took in relation to myself. It is hard to imagine how one would act and what lengths they would go to in order to survive during a war-occupied regime. Lee’s characters often cross the line between mere survival and survival-with-something-to-gain and it was this dark and deeply upsetting perimeter that mostly affected me.

There is a wealth of discussion strewn through the book and it will make a fabulous book club pick for any group! The edition I have comes complete with a book club guide but anyone reading the book will find points popping up straight of the page.

Readers of Wayson Choy, Lisa See and Ondaantje will not be disappointed!

Rachel and Courtney talk a whole lot of "Jack!"( we're a tad loquacious).

disclaimer: I ain't so savvy with the accents on the computer, y'all. So, when we type "Ate's" name --- I want you to know that it doesn't read "Ate" ( as in I ate some carrots whilst watching the World Cup); rather, "TAY" as in parTAY (with carrots while watching the World Cup)! savvy? second, this little book dialogue contains some spoiler-ish content ( but not enough to keep you from wanting to run out and buy the book, methinks)

'Member when Courtney and I discussed Georgette Heyer and it changed your lives? well, we're back! together! la la la !

Rachel:Courtney read the Blooding of Jack Absolute. I have been trying to get Courtney to read TBoJA since, umm, since 200--- when did it come out again?

Courtney: This one came out in 2005. First Jack book came out in 2003.

Rachel: So, when Court texted me saying she was reading some Jack. I thought: count me in! This stuff is FUUUN! ---plus, it takes me back to my university student years. Court, you might have to get us through the first part of the novel because I have not read it in FOREVER! Readers, I just picked up my copy and read from the chapter called “Ate” onward --- ‘cause that’s where all the best stuff is. So, Court, maybe you want to tell us about the first three quarters of the book: like, with Jack and Craster and an annoying female character ( or two ) and Plains of Abraham and Stuff ( to put it eloquently). What was your initial impression of our friend Jack( other than the fact that he looks like Jack Davenport)?

Courtney:Well! Prologue starts when he’s about … 7 I think? Anyway, we meet Jack as who is constantly beat and bullied by his uncle, and his older (by a year) cousin Craster. (And so, the first parallel between Jack and Craster: both were born out of wedlock, and so are considered bastards – except apparently Jack isn’t really a bastard, but we don’t learn that until later on.) Jack’s uncle dies, Craster is annoying (not in a good way), Jack’s parents show up, and whisk the two of them off to London, where they will both be attending (different) boarding schools. And you can’t help but feeling both annoyed with and protective of Jack. He’s a dumb boy who eggs things on, but these people who are supposed to be his protectors (read: his uncle) is a complete tyrant to him. Not cool! Fast forward however many years into the future when Jack is 16 (I think?). He and his friends have formed a society of “Mohoks” (sp?), which they’ve fashioned after the REAL Mohawks of Canada. (Woah, foreshadowing!) Jack gets into a duel with his cousin Craster (the kind of duels where pistols are shot, obviously), and then in order to save the family name and to escape the police etc etc, he gets into the British army, and is shipped off to Canada. (w00t w00t!) Which is where the fun begins. Oh, right, and before he is shipped off to Canada, he has relations with many women. One, he is in love with – a delicate, precious, goddess of a thing, who is rather annoying. One, taught him the art of making love – the mistress of another dude that Jack manages to serious piss off, and seriously the female should’ve known this would eventually happen. And I think there is one other, but I don’t know. Anyway, these parts were really boring. Because, seriously? Must ALL awesome adventure novels have the hero get into some kind of romantic encounter? BAH. It just detracts from the adventure story itself.

Rachel:Humphreys is not the only culprit here. I am looking at you, Bernard Cornwell and you Ian Fleming and you every- other- author -of -adventure- fiction -that -features -some -sort -of- “strong” -heroine ---is it to entice women to read “guy” books? pfft!I think girls want battles and bromance in their adventure novels. You need not cater to us. If we want our girly stuff, we can traipse over to Austen.

Courtney: Rachel, I know that you started when Ate shows up, but I have a sneaking suspicion that you’ll want to say something about the Plains of Abraham, so why don’t you continue tangentially on with how awesome and underrated Canadian history is?

Rachel: Really? I thought you would never ask!

THE PLAINS OF ABRAHAM as retold by Rachel

-->the Battle of the Plains of Abraham was the pivotal battle in the SEVEN YEARS WAR ( don't ask me how long that war ran for ;) )--

-->It was fought by the British Army and the French army on the plains just outside the fortress of Quebec City.

-->it was the result of a three month siege on Quebec by the British and basically the action went down in an hour---Gen. James Wolfe led the British; Louis-Joseph, Marquis de Montcalm led the French

--> WOLFE AND MONTCALM ( is grade eight history coming back to you now? ) were mortally wounded during the Battle and people painted their deaths. ( Apparently Montcalm said something poignant on his deathbed like " I am glad" or " I am glad of it" or summat like that)

-->the Battle basically was the last straw and the last hold that the French had in any power/ ownership of Canadian land---within four years of the Plains of Abraham show-down, all of France's possessions in this area of North America were ceded to the British.

-->Jack was there!

Courtney:Ha! Brilliant! So yes, Jack fights in the Battle of the Plains of Abraham, which was totally awesome because it’s a huge part of Canadian history (even if it only lasted like 15 minutes and a lot of Canadians don’t even know what it is when mentioned) and it made it seem so much more real than when reading history book entries about it. Because you care about the characters, and so it means more to you (not that it shouldn’t mean a lot, but there’s a lot of disconnect due to how many years ago it was)! This is how history should be taught! Anyway! Blah blah blah after that, Jack’s a slave, meets Ate, they don’t get along, then they escape together and then! This is where the fun stuff starts. Because the two of them spend ONE WHOLE WINTER in a cave with JUST THE TWO OF THEM and a dead bear (that they killed to get meat and other stuff and that was really the best part of the whole book). And do you know what keeps them occupied all winter and makes them the bestest of friends? --HAMLET. Because the Bard has a way of making enemies into friends, yo.

Rachel:Seriously. So, one of the things that Courtney and I wanted to address in ye olde Jack Absolute is the theatricality. First off, we should mention that Jack Absolute is not just a figment of the author’s imagination. Instead, he is a character featured in Richard Brinsley Sheridan’s The Rivals (1775): a play I had to read in university—around the time I met “our” Jack. From the start, theatricality is embedded in the stories. There is something so wonderful about Ate mounting a tree stub and quoting the "To Be or Not To Be" soliloquy in his native language. Hamlet, for Jack and Ate, is an equalizer. We learn it is something that Jack can “trade” for Ate’s inherent wilderness skill and it obliterates language and cultural barrier for the two of them. In essence, Jack and Ate communicate through Hamlet: Jack teaching English to Ate all the while and Ate translating Hamlet ( as best possible ) into his own Iroquois language. I would have to say, Court, that it is one of the more brilliant literary turns in contemporary fiction. The chapter focusing on their re-hashing of Hamlet as the sleepy, cold winter drips past them is utterly unique, surprising and a type of meta-fiction I can sink my teeth into. Moreover, it provides a delightful contrast: the crude Canadian wilderness somehow made eloquent by a British and “cultured” play. A unifying force that binds their two starkly different worlds together. But, enough about Hamlet ( which, we will learn, is a recurring motif in the trilogy -- I say trilogy ‘cause where in bloody hell is the fourth book?), how about THE BEAR?

Courtney:Okay. So. The bear is really THE BEST moment in the whole book. I mean, here you are reading about how these two guys who hate each other are going to need to hunt deer all winter, and there’s all this snow, and they just have to SURVIVE… and then next moment, Jack is being chased down by a bear, and Ate is close on the bear’s trail. It’s like a scene out of a cartoon! And what makes this moment even better is how pivotal it is in the Jack and Ate relationship – this is the moment that Ate first calls Jack “Jack” (as opposed to “white boy”). And you can tell that it’s that type of moment where a friendship and brotherhood is born! And you know, it always seems to be those bigger moments when their friendship deepens – like when the guy who had enslaved the two of them come back into their lives for the first time, and Jack thinks that Ate is dead. Or when the two of them decide to take revenge on the men who had made their lives miserable (the guy who had enslaved them, and Jack’s cousin Craster).

Rachel: ALSO, we have to have a moment for when Jack speaks Iroquois in iambic pentameter. It is just such a delicious touch. Also, how EXCITED Ate is to fight in a battle. And their attempt to coerce the other into joining each other’s sphere: Jack wants to show Ate the world of Hamlet, Ate wants to show Jack the world of his school Mohock society. I am tickled to the gills.

Courtney:Yes! There are so many delicious bromance moments in this book! (And bromance is so much more awesome than romance!) So now you just have to let me know which is the next of the books that I should read, and I’ll be ready to hunt that one down!

Rachel: 'cept I can't remember what chronological order they go in. Anyone know?

Court, you and I should talk about books more often. We are just so dem'nd good at it.

(finis)

Movie Review: The Trotksy

I support Canadian film! Well, erm, I TRY to support Canadian film: I cannot stomach the idea of the new Paul Gross western.

The Trotsky (a T.I.F.F. favourite)is set in contemporary Montreal. It features Jay Baruchel --- who will have my heart forevermore after voicing Hiccup in How to Train Your Dragon and Colm Feore --- who has always had my heart but has it even moreso since his turn as Cyrano in the Stratford Production of Cyrano de Bergerac last summer.

17 year old Leon Bronstein believes he is the reincarnation of the infamous Russian Revolutionary and once taken from his carefully-cloistered private school and placed in a run-of-the-mill public system he takes the term student “union” literally and plans to overthrow the Government. Here, the government is the tyrannical Mr. Berkhoff, played villainously by Feore.

I thought this film was fabulous. It was funny and clever and featured Baruchel in another empowering teenage role. Leon is not your average young man and his scheme border on manic. But, as his enemy, the head of the schoolboard attests, he is a brilliant young man. Baruchel is endearing as a vulnerable and confused teenager who experiences finding himself and his purpose by reimagining an intense part of liberal history.

As much as the coincidental circumstances in Leon’s life align with Trotsky’s (including an impassioned affair with an older law student named Alexandra), much of Leon’s experiences are created and crafted by an ingenious teenager who sees himself as having a greater part than his world allots.

The climactic scene in the film, where Leon stages a voluntary coup ( led by students dressed as the eponymous creatures from Orwell’s “Animal Farm” ) is surprisingly thrilling and tense. Leon’s a bit of a nutbar, but you want him to succeed. Sort of like the hero in a Gordon Korman novel… which leads me to surmise:

All-in-all, this film was cleverly written, utterly Canadian and immediately called to mind a plot from a Gordon Korman novel.

Now we just need to cast Jay Baruchel as the reincarnation of Boots in the MacDonald Hall series.

(also, Canadians, there is an amazingly giggly scene in which Baruchel's character is featured on E!Talk Daily with that annoyingly side-burned Ben Mulroney!....nice little inside Canadian joke)

Two Rachel Thumbs Up.

Author Field Trip: the Arthur Slade edition

So, last month Courtney, Kat and I headed out to Chapters Brampton ( read: the middle of nowhere ) to meet Arthur Slade who was in town ( all the way from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan) promoting the excellent novel, The Dark Deeps, book II in the incredibly amazing, breathtaking, action packed, brimming with verisimilitude, mindblowing, earth-shattering, Jules Verne meets Victor Hugo at tea with Sherlock Holmes with Robert Louis Stevenson serving scones HUNCHBACK ASSIGNMENTS series.

Slade remains my favourite YA author in the WORLD ( o.k. tied with Catherine Webb) and the only author ( with the exception of LM Montgomery via séance) I would trek to Brampton to see.

Courtney trekked from Cambridge and Kat and I trekked from Toronto. (Kat and I had the better end of the deal because we had a massive Ziploc full of JellyBellys)


Once there, we got to meet Arthur Slade and get books signed and stuff! Of course, we are ten years ( okay, MORE than ten years ) older than his usual demographic but WHO CARES! ??

I was also two or three times taller than all of the kids in front of me in line ( the curse of being an adult who loves kids’ books). Yes, we did let the children go first. It’s all about the children, don’t y’know.


MOMENTS: One little girl ( of the B.O.O.K.E.D series ) who was introducing Ye olde Slade mentioned that “Modo satisfies all my reading needs”. I promptly died of cuteness.

Ye olde Slade rambled about a book on submarines from a bargain bin ( he gets geeked out about stuff, apparently--- ).

It was a night of nerdy wonderfulness and quite well documented in LIVE TWEETS in REAL TIME by my friend, Kat. RELIVE THE MAGIC FOR YOURSELVES, reader-friends


· At Chapters in Brampton, fangirling over @arthurslade ! :) 6:46 PM May 12th via Echofon
(EDITOR’S NOTE: I don’t appreciate being called a “fangirl”, I prefer the term: learned book enthusiast)
· @rachkmc just asked @arthurslade a question. @moonsoar and I are amused! 6:46 PM May 12th via Echofon
(EDITOR’S NOTE: I did ask A.Slade a question: I wanted to know where he got his delicious character names)
· "Modo rhymes with Frodo." - @arthurslade 6:47 PM May 12th via Echofon
(EDITOR’S NOTE:not only is A. Slade a brilliant, Governor-General’s award-winning author, he apparently knows how to rhyme)
· Cheap books are not cheap, they're bargains! A la @arthurslade 6:51 PM May 12th via Echofon
(EDITOR’S NOTE: Apparently, A. Slade is also savvy with synonyms)
· @arthurslade totally just HOPPED down the stairs! Amazing! :) 6:52 PM May 12th via Echofon
(EDITOR’S NOTE: It was basically a breakneck-paced action film by this point. Like, someone get Bruckheimer on the phone. STAT.)
· @moonsoar just blanked on her question to @arthurslade . @rachkmc and I are amused! 6:54 PM May 12th via Echofon
(EDITOR’S NOTE: Courtney did rally. Besides, we were all speechless in the presence of brilliance: the kind of brilliance that talks about Star Wars ad nauseum)
· @arthurslade just hopped again! Best author move ever! via Echofon
(EDITOR’S NOTE: in summation, A. Slade is quite the animated author… either that or he thinks he’s a rabbit and his treadmill desk is keeping him in tip-top shape)
· @arthurslade 's fave character is #DarthVader ! Hot dog! ;) via Echofon
(EDITOR’S NOTE: see? I mentioned the Star Wars thing, did I not?)
· Ppl are getting their books signed by @arthurslade now. @rachkmc , @moonsoar & i will wait until it shrinks 2 almost nothing. We r patient. via Echofon
·
· Okay, we're in line. I wish I had my TP copy of Megiddo's Shadow for @arthurslade to sign. Curse you Amazon!!! Will get #Hunchback1 signed. via Echofon
·
· Free Starbucks samples in line waiting for @arthurslade to sign our books! Score! via Echofon
·
· Almost our turn! Special salute @arthurslade ! via Echofon
(EDITOR’S NOTE: upon arriving, A. Slade gave his audience a special salute for coming. Kat returned the favour)



Then we all went home and had to become grown-ups again with careers and deadlines and early mornings.

PFFFT!

The Miracle at Speedy Motors and Christianity in Alexander McCall Smith

I recently reviewed one installment in a series I quite enjoy: The Miracle at Speedy Motors the ninth book of Alexander McCall Smith's engaging tales of the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency.

Grounded in morality and arbitration, I find these books have a steady and solid background, develop character and force the reader to note the good in everyone. Human character, relationships and goodness are at the heart of the novels. More still, they transport the reader to beautiful Bostwana: a bountiful and fruitful land where suffering is paired with grace and etiquette.

While formatting my review of the book at my other book blog, I stumbled upon this article in the Church Times which likens McCall Smith to the gospel. Precious Ramotswe, argues the writer, emblemizes the empathy we find in the Apostle Paul.

Feel free to read that article here

Read my quick and snappy review of The Miracle at Speedy Motors here

and track down Alexander McCall Smith: a prolific contemporary writer ( to say the least) here

A review! Another Alexander McCall Smith Review!

First, a REVIEW:

The Miracle at Speedy Motors by Alexander McCall Smith.

I cannot say that I have read Smith’s No 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency series in order---- nor have I sped through the series one after another. I read them now and then. Usually if I am in the mood or if I happen to stumble upon a copy at a used bookstore.

I find this is one series you can read out of order. Though the characters and plotlines continue throughout, the sparse, happy prose moves in such a way that you can catch up. You will easily clutch Smith’s sweet wisdom in the same way that the traditionally-built Mma Ramotswe clutches a cup of her beloved bush tea.

As is usually the case in the series, The Miracle at Speedy Motors opens in a slow, languid, yawn of a fashion with beautiful Africa spread as a canvas and the colourful characters of Mma Ramotswe, Grace Makutsi and JLB Matekoni ( now, like old ,tried friends) inching along the coloured backdrop like figures on a felt Sunday School board.

Yes, there is a mystery--- this one involving a woman and her family. Yet, like the best detective fiction ( and by “best” I mean the stories I hanker toward most often ), it is not so much the problem or its solution rather the characters and how they intertwine with the problem that keeps me dappling in the genre.

There are two major subplots to this absolutely charming novel: Mma Makutsi and her fiancé have found a suitable and comfortable bed for their upcoming life together but strange happenstances find Mma Makutsi’s bed ruined by an onslaught of rain. JLB Matekoni has met a doctor who he believes can heal the spinal injury of his adopted daughter Motholeli.

The scenes in which Rra Matekoni expresses his assured hope in Motholeli’s certain miracle are so touching you just want to sit and deliciously sniff at how sweet and warm and wonderful these characters and their world are.