Chick Literacy

Awhile back I contributed an essay to an anthology project which had the interesting premise to link books to personal memories. You know how sometimes a song can instantly pull you back in time? Well, this was the same idea except using books instead of songs. Good idea, right? And the point of this project was a worthy one - to raise awareness (and hopefully funds) for women's literacy. Unfortunately, the project never found a publisher. But the inventive and obviously undaunted editor contacted me recently to say the project has been reinvented as a blog. You can check out it out here. My essay isn't there yet but I'll let you know when it gets posted.

Shocking News

I was shocked to read in this morning's newspaper the British Library has spent 500,000 pounds to purchase a major archive from the estate of Ted Hughes. Not shocked because I don't think Ted Hughes is important and therefore worth the price, but shocked because I had forget he was dead!

And The Booker Goes To...

Aravind Adiga has won the 2008 Man Booker Prize with his debut novel The White Tiger. I haven't read it myself but according to the judges "it shocked and entertained in equal measures." So there you go, now you know what sort of novel you need to write in order to win the Booker.

Prize Season

It is prize season in the book world. Recently Gil Adamson was awarded the Amazon.ca/Books in Canada First Novel Award. This is a book that has been on my radar since it was published last winter. I have only heard good things about it. It is definitely on my "I must read this book" list.

From Publishers WeeklyStarred Review. Set in 1903, Adamson's compelling debut tells the wintry tale of 19-year-old Mary Boulton (widowed by her own hand) and her frantic odyssey across Idaho and Montana. The details of Boulton's sad past—an unhappy marriage, a dead child, crippling depression—slowly emerge as she reluctantly ventures into the mountains, struggling to put distance between herself and her two vicious brothers-in-law, who track her like prey in retaliation for her killing of their kin. Boulton's journey and ultimate liberation—made all the more captivating by the delirium that runs in the recesses of her mind—speaks to the resilience of the female spirit in the early part of the last century. Lean prose, full-bodied characterization, memorable settings and scenes of hardship all lift this book above the pack. Already established as a writer of poetry (Ashland) and short stories (Help Me, Jacques Cousteau), Adamson also shines as novelist. (Apr.) Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

I Didn't Win the Nobel - Again

Jean-Marie Gustave Le Clezio of France has been awarded this year's Nobel Prize for literature. Congratulations to him. I just did a quick search and it doesn't appear much of his work has been translated into English, a situation which will probably change now. I don't know where the last year has disappeared to. It feels like Doris Lessing was awarded the Nobel just a few months ago. At least it feels like that to me. Ms. Lessing might feel differently. I truly hope she accomplished more of the goals she set for herself a year ago than I did, since I vowed to finally read The Golden Notebook and haven't even cracked the binding yet. I'll get to it Doris, I swear I will.

Still Thinking

I'm still thinking about funny books. Life continues to be trying enough around here that I'm longing for comic relief, I guess. In my earlier post about humorous books I can't believe I forgot the Adrian Mole series by Sue Townsend. (Exhaustion and packing all your books away will do that to you.) I love the Adrian Mole books and think they are hilarious. I will happily buy them as long as Sue Townsend continues to write them. After reading a new one I always suffer from this fear that it will be the last installment. Seriously, I just want them to go on forever. Now I am beginning to worry the latest, Adrian Mole and the Weapons of Mass Destruction will be last. I have to change the topic before I start to hyperventilate or break out into hives.

I just found out about a novel I think may be very funny. Anybody else a fan of the movie Withnail and I? Well, the man who wrote the screenplay for that - his name is Bruce Robinson - has written a novel. It's called The Peculiar Memories of Thomas Penman and I want to read it.

Thanks to the people who left comments about their favourite funny books. All suggested titles have been added to my "I want to read this list." A list I would share with you except it is so long I fear it may crash the Internet.

Climbing Back on the Planet

I feel like I temporarily fell off the planet, but all I did was move. Moving is hard. Especially when everything that can go wrong, does, as happened with me. But that is a long boring story we'll skip. Suffice to say I'm back now and happy in my new home. Of course, everything is still packed away in boxes and I'm living in near chaos - but what else is new, eh?

Question: How many Ikea Billy bookcases can you fit in a Honda Civic?
Answer: Three. (In the interest of science and the readers of this blog we tried our best to cram in a fourth but all our attempts failed.)

Sooner or later every reader comes to the same realization: there will not be enough time to read all the books you want to read. After unpacking my books, even a mathematically challenged person like myself, could see there were more volumes than I could possibly read before I die, even if I sat down now and did nothing else but read for the rest of my days. And I've got this funny feeling I'm probably going to acquire more books in the next forty or so years. Isn't that sad? It almost seems unfair. If I could interview God (or whoever is running this odd little show called life) that is what I would like to ask. Why so many books and so little time? (As the tote bags, bookmarks and mugs say.) Someone once suggested to me that heaven will be what you want it to be (or was that a Nick Bantock book? I really need some sleep.) Meaning if swimming is your thing, heaven will be a giant pool. Or if reading is your thing, heaven will be an endless library. Isn't that a wonderful thought? I'll leave you with that dreamy image.