The Postmistress

You wouldn't think a book about World War II, a front-lines radio/reporter and a deceptive public servant would make for relaxing beach reading, but in the case of The Postmistress it actually was. It was interesting to read about the radio reporting from London, something I hadn't really read much about. It also shed light on the fact that for a while, the world didn't have a clear picture of what was happening to the Jews: we look back and say "how could that have happened?" but in the moment, in the confusion, the wild rumours going on about everything, it was hard to sift through to the truth as we see it now. Not a justification by any means, but perhaps an explanation of why the world's countries weren't quicker to open their doors.

With Malic Towards Some by Margaret Halsey

I have already addressed my love for epistolary writings in the previous entry, so I shall merely include a few of the many samples of Margaret Halsey's diary that amused me.
Although written in the 1930s (during her year in England) I find that many of her observations, particularly regarding Anglo-American comparisons, are still quite true which is delightful to my freakish little soul that loves cultural comparisons along those lines.
It also shows the extent of my Anglophilia that, despite her constant disparaging remarks on British weather, food, insipid conversation and her glowing tales of France and Sweden, my sense of comfort and loyalty towards Britain is, not only not abated but, contrary to logic, increased. The weather might be terrible, the food inedible and the people stiff and awkward: BUT, the fact that it's the same weather, food, and conversation endured by most of my favorite authors, politicians, actors, singers as well as all my fictional companions of youth gives it an idealistic glow that will probably not tarnish until I've had to personally endure those trials for at least a year.
It must also be added (especially should any of my British friends be reading this) that it is my opinion that in the last 80 years, the quality of wit in any given conversation has shifted considerably to the other side of the Atlantic. Unlike Meg Halsey, in looking for sheer amusement, I would much rather eavesdrop in England than America.

"In the meantime, we institute compensating economies. The straightened regime is harder on me than on Henry, who never knows whether he is comfortable or not until it is pointed out to him."
- With Malice Towards Some, 60

I suppose I ought to be used by this time to being myself, but sometimes it comes as rather a shock.
- 120

"It seems that one of the principal differences...of English and American life comes from the fact that Americans are prone to favor you with their opinions and to do it, moreover, in the manner of an office boy favoring letters with stamps at five minutes to five., whereas the English think of an opinion as something which a decent person, if he has the misfortune to have one, does all he can to hide" - 192

"American men look at women when (they think) the women are not aware of it; Englishmen do not look at them at all; but Frenchmen look at them with such thoroughness and intesity that you half expect them to approach and ask dubiously, 'Is it washable?' "

In regards to a man regarded by all as being bitter and cynical but turning out quite nicely: "In these parts, apparently, a skeptic is a man who refrains from cuddling kittens" - 200

Referring to a baby: "A handsomer batch of protoplasm than young Wadhams I have never seen" - 202

Happy Centennial Daddy-Long-Legs

I love epistolary novels. There is something about a collection of novels or diary entries which, autobiographical or fiction, seem to give the reader a more intimate view of a person's life, thoughts and, if you're lucky, secrets. It's probably because of this that I can't stop ranting about Helene Hanff's compilations of her letters and diary entries and why I love Anne of Windy Poplar for her collection of decidedly unromantic but charming epistles to her fiance. It might also explain my delight in finding a first edition (and to my knowledge, only edition) of Margaret Halsey's With Malice Towards Some, the diary entries of a slightly restless wife of an professor lecturing in Oxford for a year. The list could go on and its partially due to this list that I hate being asked "what books do you like". Most of these books are not on any bestseller list, probably because reading what someone had for tea in 1938 is not the exactly the heart-stopping drama or sweeping romance that people crave for. Reading people's letters and diary entries, one cannot expect to have a happy ending every time or have all the intrigues tied up nicely by the last page. These books don't always follow traditional story plot lines and, since they don't contain vampires or asinine by-products of vampire pop culture, would probably bore a large part of the population.

One that has endured and and is celebrating its 100th anniversary this year is Daddy-Long-Legs by Jean Webster. Although I have not read it a 100 times, the number is definitely in the double digits and as of my last read this week, it has not lost any of its charm.

It's not the love story that develops in the last few pages that has kept me going back for re-reads or captured the attention of so many readers in the last hundred years. It's the plucky orphan who, knowing well her fate and caste in life, dares to dream beyond and explores the world handed to her with abandon, self-effacing and good-natured humour, and creativity. Although readers in search of wild adventures might get bogged down in details of college lunches and classes and faithful reporting of which pig ran away or which cow died, there are greater themes in the book: female suffrage and social reform being among the most obvious.

I give this book a five star but only for that certain kind of reader. I think you know who you are.

Jason Mraz

Two Books and Their Boxes

I don't know if I'm getting pickier with books or if I've just had not-so-good luck lately, but I've recently read two which, by their covers, would seem to be books I'd love but instead, I was quite disappointed in.

When Autumn Leaves looked like a fun, homey little town with stories about friendship and community and maybe a bit of magic thrown in. The reality was that the books rushed along, barely making your acquaintance with one character before switching over to another character's point of view. By the end of the book, I'd forgotten who the people at the beginning and hadn't really gotten attached to anyone along the way. Furthermore, the moral quality of many of the characters was quiet dubious and the magic was a fairly dark, wiccan sort which did not fit in with the rest of the timbre of the book. I love epic fantasy tales like Lord of the Rings, Narnia or books set entirely within another world. I like reading about leprechauns and brownies and other folklore. But somehow when a story tries to create a modern day and combine it with outright magic which, frankly, is irrelevant to the story line, it makes it harder for me to suspend my disbelief and enjoy the story. I like genres to stay in their boxes!


The Hundred-Foot Journey was a bit better. It is the story of an Indian boy whose rowdy family sets up a resturant in a little French village to the horror of the gourmand across the road. Eventually he goes on to train and become a great chef. The book hurries through various stages of life from Indian, London, Lumiere, and Paris so you don't quiet ever feel settled in. It reads more like a condensed biography than a novel. Now, I have nothing against biographies. But when it is suppose to be a novel, I like it to read like a novel.
To be fair, I enjoyed all the foodie talk in the book: it made me want to go make a sauce or stuff a quail.

Intellectual Masochism

I don't like short stories. And even though English teachers across the globe might twitch in horror, I don't know many people that do. Except for my beloved P.G. Wodehouse, most short story writers seem to feel a burden to send a message or social critique or statement on the darkness of either their souls or everyone around them in one fell punch. And since I'm not a masochist ( unless it comes to my back being scratched or weaving needles in and out of my palm or liking the feel of a knife's blade or...) ok, since I'm not usually a masochist, I don't want to be repeatedly slugged in the head. At least books couch their message in slightly more subtle terms. That is not saying that that books aren't dark or fatalistic but that doesn't seem to be the sole purpose of a majority of books.


Novellas are almost as bad: too short to be legitimate books and too long to be short stories, they try to straddle both worlds. I can't seem to invest myself in a story that I know is going to end soon. I find myself racing along to just find out what the "point" is that the author is trying to make; an attitude I rarely take with books.

However, perhaps I've been reading the wrong sort of short stories and novellas. If anyone out there has suggestions, I'd be happy to give them another try.

Lunch

My alloted portion: 6 1/2 ounces of a single vegetable and 3 1/2 ounces of meat. Delicious and I didn't even manage to eat it all so I get the leftovers for a snack later on!

Happiness is:

Coffee and Paninis at the coffee shop


Casados at the Mercado Central


Copos by the Torre


Osea: frienship and food goes together really well.

Apologies

The Godfather is not necessarily a book that I would recommend but there is one particular paragraph that struck me. The son to the Godfather just died and the consigliori (counselor) to the Godfather hadn't been able to stop it. Before he tells the man his son is dead:

"he tried to prepare his own manner. He would have to be in all ways strict with his own guilt. To reproach himself would only add to the Don's burden. To show is own grief, would only sharpen the grief of the Don. To point out his shortcomings as a Consigliori, would only make the Don reproach himself for his own bad judgement for picking such a man for such an important post."

This one struck me especially because I have so often found myself comforting people who have done me wrong or are apologizing for something. They use their grief as a shield and self-flagellation as a tool to garner pity. I know that apologizing is an art and I find myself wanting to do the same: using my great guilt to try to make the wronged party understand and not hate me. But I think maybe, in apologizing, the kindest thing to do is give the wronged party a chance to be hurt and say "I was wrong. Forgive me" not "I'm such a terrible person, You shouldn't forgive me even though I hope you do etc". In the latter case, then the other person is stuck saying "No, you're not a horrible person" instead of "I was hurt but I forgive you". Basically, the difference lies in whether the apology is for the benefit of the apologizer or the wronged person. I believe a simple, sincere apology made for the person you have wronged is much more effective and healing than a flowery, self-beating one which casts all the attention back on yourself. Unfortunately, I fear the art of apology is being lost just like the art of politeness, greetings, correspondence, handkerchiefs and hats.

Associations and Attachments

I tend to think of the world as a great big multi-dimensional puzzle. Every new bit of knowledge or information is a coloured piece of the puzzle that I can put in. Slowly, my mental world is being coloured in and put together. The geographical aspect is the most obvious: every country that I've been to is coloured in my mental map. I have first hand knowledge of what that country looks like in a way that pictures can never match.

But there are many aspects to this map: historical, political, scientific, classics, media, people. The more you know and study, the more these link up. That's why I'm always fascinated when a study of a person lists his or her contemporaries. I find it fascinating to know that Jane Austen was born the same year the American Revolutionary War started or that her father died the year Lewis and Clarke reached the Pacific.

I always imagined the great literati as isolated geniuses when in fact, many famous names are linked in friendship. Last May I sat in the pub in Oxford where C.S. Lewis and Tolkien spent decades collaborating and gaining inspiration from each other. Wordswith and Coleridge even collaborated on the same poem Lyrical Ballads, its unique style ushering in the Romantic period in poetry.

There's also something thrilling about finding links in your everyday life. One of my favorite movies as a child was "You've Got Mail" in which they make quite a few references to the Godfather. One being "going to the mattresses". I'm reading through the Godfather and was thrilled read this. At first, I couldn't place the link, but I knew it sounded familiar.

One of my childhood books was about a little girl named Jenny who's father would always sing her this little song:

Jenny kiss'd me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief, who love to get
Sweets into your list, put that in!
Say I'm weary, say I'm sad,
Say that health and wealth have miss'd me,
Say I'm growing old, but add,
Jenny kiss'd me.

It was in one of those books where they don't quote the author because classical education would have seen to it that everyone knew where it was from. However, I had to discover roundabout when reading about the Carlyle's and discovered that this poem was written by Leigh Hunt for Jane Carlyle, a respected writer in her own right.

I'm not sure where this obsession for putting in all the puzzles of the world and finding links comes from but it's comforting. It shows connection to each other and to our past. It shows that nothing happens in a vacumm. It makes the world seem less cold and distant and alienated. Even the great poets needed each other. The entire world can't be fixated on thing: people's smaller lives will keep on going no matter what inventions are made or wars are fought. And, with any hope, we'll make a difference in our own communities that will eventually, link us up with others.

A Year of Living Biblically

This seems like an appropriate title to finish on New Year's. However, it might not be as spiritual as you think. The premise of the book is an Agnostic Jew who undertakes the challenge of trying to follow the rules of the Bible as literally as possible. This includes not shaving his beard, "stoning adulteres" (in his case, throwing a few pebbles at one) as well as the less controversial ones like not gossiping, giving thanks, and avoiding lustful thoughts.

For someone who classifies himself as agnostic (A "reverent agnostic" towards the end of the book) I thought the book was surprisingly open-minded and thorough. He attempts to understand many different facets of Christianity and visits Israel, a snake-handling church in the south, mega churches, the Amish, and invites a Jehovah's witness into his home. He has a large board of advisors from different faiths and does attempt honesty.

Considering his focus was on following the laws, its not surprising he didn't come to some great conversion at the end; however, I do think his book does a great job in making faith seem less absurd and remote and makes for an interesting read for both Christians and non-Christians. I think both would have something to learn from this book.

How you know you are dating a Canadian hockey fan

You read the Sports section in Will Ferguson's, How to Be a Canadian" and you can spot a few inaccuracies and mutter to yourself that the chapter needs some serious updating.

My thoughts excactly

Tea

Have lost track of how much tea and coffee I've had today. Oh well. Time for another pot!

The first cup moistens my lips and throat. The second cup breaks my loneliness. The third cup searches my barren entrail but to find therein some thousand volumes of odd ideographs. The fourth cup raises a slight perspiration - all the wrongs of life pass out through my pores. At the fifth cup I am purified. The sixth cup calls me to the realms of the immortals. The seventh cup - ah, but I could take no more! I only feel the breath of the cool wind that raises in my sleeves. Where is Elysium? Let me ride on this sweet breeze and waft away thither. ~Lu Tung, "Tea-Drinking"


People who lose patience with repeated blogs about the same subject (i.e: tea), should probably unsubscribe from this blog as I have no intention on stopping.

There's a saying that goes "People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones." Okay. How about "Nobody should throw stones." That's crappy behavior. My policy is: "No stone throwing regardless of housing situation." Don't do it. There is one exception though. If you're trapped in a glass house, and you have a stone, then throw it. What are you, an idiot? So maybe it's "Only people in glass houses should throw stones, provided they are trapped in the house with a stone." It's a little longer, but yeah.
- Demetri Martin (whoever that is)

Cafesito

Q's Legacy would be the perfect companion to the perfect latte but then what would I read for my bedtime story?

te

If you are cold, tea will warm you. If you are too heated, it will cool you. If you are depressed, it will cheer you. If you are excited, it will calm you. ~Gladstone, 1865

Lament of an Insecure Blogger

Why oh why won’t Scott
Comment on my blog?
Does he like it not?
And compare it to a frog?

Maybe a blog I just can’t write
I should stick to flying a kite.
I know this poem is pretty bad
I hope my poet won’t get mad.

It’s almost a new morn.
And still I feel forlorn.
Oh Scott, if you like cheese
Won’t you read it, pretty please?

Oh I know why
No need to cry
He just doesn’t have the time
To waste on a silly rhyme

My blogging isn’t cool
And doesn’t help in school
He is there when I take pics
Seeing them gives him no kicks

Maybe someday I’ll create
Something he’ll appreciate
And on my blog he’ll post
Luna, I like you the most!

Know it All

One of my favorite books of the last few months is called The Know-It-All by A.J.Jacobs. In this, Jacobs attempts to read the entire Encyclopedia Britannica in one year. The Britannica's 44 million words span 33,000 pages in 32 volumes.

Jacobs interweaves the more interesting tidbits from the EB with anecdotes about thoughts on the articles , his life in this year, his pursuit of knowledge which includes auditioning for trivia game shows, tracking down many other sources of extreme intelligence.

It reminds me of high school. I would always try to get the back row by the bookcases and the semi-complete collection of encyclopedia (in true TCK-school fashion, the set was a hand me down and was missing d, g, j, one of the s's, and the y). Whenever class would get boring, I'd sneak one of the volumes into my lap (not an easy feat considering their size) and lose myself in articles about pencils, the Indian Mutiny, Nicola Tesla, or Suriname. I raced through many a grammar worksheet or geometry problem in order to have time to dip into an article on a country or person I'd never heard about. Today, my math abilities are very sad but my love of trivia remains.

After an awkward hug

Scott: "I tried to hug you but you got in the way".

Christina Perri - Arms (Official Lyric Video)

When Rebecca Comes to Town

Highlights:

1. Mexican food


2. Piano Bar


3. Ft. Langley


4. Sushi


5. Tea at Traceycakes


6. White Rock



Not pictures: Indian buffet and the many coffees and teas we had.

Gracious: it seems our entire trip (or at least, any memorable moments) were circa food, drink and post food-drink revelries.

Before and After

Before:


After five hours of cleaning: (including all drawers, shelves, closet, and some packing, sorting and dumping)

Lunch

Goat feta and aguacate salad with parmesan and garlic salmon, cafe con leche made with Costa Rican 1984 coffee, and Blackadder

14/25

I really have got to catch up with Scott. He's only got 6 or 7 left!

The idea of the book club was that each of the five members put in 5 books they would like to read. Then, we all read all 25. In reading other people's wish list, we are exposed to a variety of genres and types that we would not normally have read.

So far, my choices have not proved popular. However, the most hated book so far seems to be Catch 22 :) At least my poor choices have been easy to read.


Matt's Five:

✓ (1) Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne
✓ (2) To Kill A Mockingbird - Harper Lee
(3) Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
(4) The Godfather - Mario Puzo
✓ (5) Where the Wild Things Are - Maurice Sendak

Mike's Five:
✓ (1) Snow Crash - Neal Stephenson
✓ (2) Enders Game - Orson Scott Card
(3) The Call of Cthulhu - H.P. Lovecraft
(4) A Clockwork Orange - Anthony Burgess
(5) Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? - Philip K. Dick

Erica's five:
✓ (1) East of Eden (by John Steinbeck)
✓ (2) The Andromeda Strain (by Michael Crichton)
✓ (3) Peter Pan (by J.M. Barrie--should be around 48 pages)
(4) Midnights Children (by Salman Rushdie)
✓ (5) The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy (by Douglas Adams)

Yolanda's five:
✓ (1) Day after Night - Anita Diamant
✓ (2) The Fountainhead - Ayn Rand
(3) The Colour of Magic - Terry Pratchett
(4) The Hunt for Red October - Tom Clancy
(5) The Hundred-Foot Journey - Richard Morais

Scott's five:
✓ (1) Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
✓ (2) The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett
✓ (3) Contact - Carl Sagan
(4) The Power of One - Bryce Courtenay
(5) Watchers - Dean Koontz

First pics with my cute new purple camera.
My new morning ritual: Northwest Breakfast tea (found in Pike's Place Market in Seattle), breakfast quesadilla and I Love Lucy.

Of Muses, Freud, and Other Pretentious Topics

Inspiration is a funny thing.

Inspiration has traditionally been attributed to the spiritual or supernatural realm.
- The ancient Greeks believed that Inspiration came from the muses and the gods, Apollo and Dionysus.
- Ancient Norse also believe that inspiration came from the gods.
- In ancient Hebrew poetics, inspiration is a also divine matter.
- Romantic Poets attributed inspiration to “divine or mystical winds”.
- Marxist theory sees inspiration as an “expression of friction between economic base and economic superstructural positions”
- Freud attributed it to the inner psyche; Jung to racial memory
- Modern psychology relegates it as an entirely internal process.
- In Christianity, inspiration is a gift of the Holy Spirit.


Regardless of your beliefs, it is clear that source of inspiration remains a rather intangible concept. While most definitions of inspiration allude to an artistic expression, I think we can be inspired beyond that. Or perhaps, anything that leads to deed or word is an artistic expression.

In England, Erica and I encountered an amusing form of “artistic expression”. On the beach of a lovely Cornish town, also home to an art school, three students were, well, doing something. One was curled up in a child’s pose, I forget what the second was doing but the third was rolling around (fully clothed) in the sand, twisting his body this way and that. It looked a bit like horizontal dancing.

I’m not sure where his inspiration came from but I highly doubt it was from a very spiritual source: unless is was the Muse of Comedy because it certainly kept us in giggles the rest of the day. (Equally plausible could be that the source was the Muse of Tragedy.


When I think of inspiration, I think of that feeling of being alive and being thrilled to be alive. Of feeling connected to the world and wanting to show a reciprocal connection. Obviously we all have different ways of expressing inspiration but I think we also garner inspiration from different sources depending on our personality.

I’ve discussed this with a few friends. One gets inspiration from being around people, more specifically from relationships (Ironically, she is not an extrovert). Scott is lucky enough to draw inspiration internally: his thoughts and imagination provide the fuel his inspiration needs (maybe he’ll disagree with this but that’s what it seems like to me). Some people seem to be inspired (or uninspired) by the weather. I think I’ve got enough SAD to understand this.

I think my inspiration is more experiential: I’m inspired by experiences and my surroundings. It sounds shallow and i would much rather find it internally or in relationships. But it’s when I’m experiencing something new that I find myself feeling that “spark” within myself. And new experiences are easy to come by when you are traveling: and in that, I believe, lies the allure of traveling: that feeling of being alive and having a role in this world.

This is why I can fill a whole journal in one trip and then go a year without a single entry.
This is probably also why I feel so flat and boring when I spend a long stretch of time in a suburb. It’s probably not so much the fact that I am in a suburb as the fact that nothing ever changes and opportunities for unique experiences are limited.

So I’m curious: where do YOU think your inspiration comes from?

To Do

There seems to be widespread concern that I will be bored now that I am jobless and fully intend to remain so for at least two months. However, what most people don't realize is that I seem to be incapable of remaining motionless. Not working will merely give me time to do tackle my long to-do list that has been on hold.
Not necessarily in order (and with a few things ommitted for privacy sake: I know no one reads this blog..but still...)

- Catch up to Scott on the book club list (or rather, not be so rebellious and read what I am suppose to read instead of Anne of Windy Poplars for the fourth time!)
- Run. Or rather, attempt to learn how to.
- Eat my words for all the times I mocked runners (I might be safe until I get up early to run...then I will have a banquet of words in front of me)
- Fiddle with actual cooking and baking
- Correction: fiddle with HEALTHY cooking and baking (try to limit the cream cheese)
- Fix car mirror (and figure out what else is wrong with the darn thing)
- Find cool funky 50's bridesmaid dress (black with white piping in case anyone runs across something like it)
- Catch up to my correspondence (a la Edith Wharton)
- Drink loads of tea
- Write lots and lots of lists to keep me feeling motivated (first day out of work, and i already have four written, including this one)
- Apply for JET

Ecclesiastess 3

Proverbs become proverbs because the cliche is so often true (and yes, I realize its a cliche to say that too) You really should be careful what you wish for. Its amazing how often your wishes happen but then it looks different.
Back in the winter, I was craving group time. It felt like I had a bunch of different friends but they were all scattered so I was getting tons of one-on-one time; the kind that generates great discussion etc. But i did crave the fun that you get out of groups..the laughing and games and teasing etc.
Now, its the opposite. There's been tons of amazing group times and I find myself carving discussions that come when you're one-on-one. I feel like i'm not getting to know people beyond who they are in groups.
So if anyone wants to make an appointment to hang out, ive got some free slots this week

Ying Yang

From Will Ferguson's "Why I hate Canadians"

Pierre Berton once defined a Canadian as "someone who knows how to make love in a canoe". But John Robert Colombo was quick to correct him. "A Canadian is s omeone who THINKS he knows how to make love in a canoe".

What defines us:
1. On those Americans. They make me so mad
2. The Queen, rah, rah.
3. French on our Cheerio boxes
4. __________________________
(In reference to Native Canadians).