My Christmas was rich in books. I received two hardcover novels ( as oldfashioned as that may seem) and a gift certificate with which I bought The Child's Child, a new Barbara Vine novel by Ruth Rendell. As Barbara Vine, Rendell writes about social issues, with a different cast of characters in each novel. I have enjoyed several Vine novels in the past, particularly The Chimney Sweeper's Boy and was pleased to discover this new one.
The Child's Child , to my way of thinking, is not up to her usual standard. The fact that it is a novel within a novel should not be a problem; indeed, since Rendell is exploring changing attitudes toward homosexuality and "unwed motherhood", the two plots, one "then", the other "now", allows a comparison and contrast of social mores. The problems lie in characterization, research, and narrative choices.
Key characters, imaginative in some areas of life, are astonishingly obtuse in other matters. Two of the characters, in the 1920s section, construct an elaborate scheme to pass themselves off as a married couple. This fake marriage is necessary for the plot, but, logically, the young pregnant girl could have just as easily been presented as a young widow. The young man and woman worry that the cleaning lady will realize that they sleep in separate rooms, not stopping to think that the girl's advancing pregnancy, then her need to nurse the baby at all hours, are explanation enough. Another example of character naivete for plot reasons is the gay man writing explicit letters to his unconsiderate lover, never stopping to think that his inamorato may use them to blackmail him. Rule One in writing a suspense novel is, "Don't have your characters do silly things for the sake of the plot."
I was not convinced that Rendell's depiction of 1920s social attitudes was entirely accurate. World War I, which shook up moral values, must have had an impact on even the most static communities, but apparently not so in the lower middle class Bristol community she depicts. I didn't expect it to be like Paris in the 1920s, but would it really be such an island of rigid morals?
Grace, the narrator/protagonist of the 21st century section, is a doctoral student in English literature writing her thesis on the depictions of "unwed motherhood" in English fiction. Unfortunately, the gaps in her knowledge make her unconvincing. She seems unaware that social arrangements like marriage and legal concepts like legitimacy may be connected, historically, to the rise of private ownership. Nor does she realize that, in some societies, all additions to the population were welcome. She seems unaware of the avant garde thinking of the Fabians and the Bloomsbury group. In short, she is only vaguely aware that different social classes in different eras had different rules regarding "unwed motherhood." Her own decision to raise her baby in a unique social arrangement, rather than a traditional "Mum and Dad" one, could have been elaborated upon, to create the psychological depth for which Barbara Vine novels are admired.
Rendell/Vine creates vivid scenes in the first part of the novel, but in the last third, there is too much narration and not enough dramatization. Was she rushing to meet a deadline, summarizing because there wasn't enough time to "show"? The tragic ending to the "olden days" part of the story comes as no surprise; but the burst of action near the end of the present day part seemed tacked on.
Having said these negative things about The Child's Child, should I toss my copy into the recycling bin? Absolutely not. While the novel would have benefited from revision, it is worth reading for the themes it explores. One troubling theme is the idea that members of one oppressed group do not necessarily feel a kinship toward those in other oppressed groups, but may hate and fear them.
This novel made me think of the current debate within The Writers' Union of Canada as to whether authors of non-traditionally published books should be admitted to membership. Currently, a self-published, p.o.d. published or electronically published book will not get an author admitted to TWUC; the book must be traditionally published. TWUC members opposed to opening up the membership claimed that alternatively published books are badly written, badly edited, and unmarketable. This may be true of some alternatively published books, but some traditionally published books fall short of the mark, as well.
Quality is in the eye of the beholder. A "flawed" book has its merits, too.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Chief Theresa Spence
If you are concerned that Prime Minister Harper has not yet met with Chief Theresa Spence, and if you have not already contacted his office to urge him to meet with her, you might want to send him an email at pm@pm.gc.ca
For more information on Idle No More you can look at their website, http://idlenomore1.blogspot.ca
For more information on Idle No More you can look at their website, http://idlenomore1.blogspot.ca
Thursday, December 27, 2012
My review of "Trapper Boy" in "Canadian Materials"
I reviewed Hugh R. MacDonald's young adult novel, Trapper Boy (Sydney, NS, Cape Breton University Press, 2012, $14.95 ISBN 978-1-897009-73-4 in the Dec. 21, 1012 issue of Canadian Materials (http://www.umanitoba.ca/cm/vol19/no16/Trapperboy.html The review is below:
Trapper Boy covers four months in the life of 14 year old John Wallace Donaldson, known as "J.W." The year is 1926,and J.W., who lives in Sydney Mines, NS, is graduating from Grade Eight. He wins two silver dollars for coming first in two subjects, but his friend, Beth, who ties with him for the best marks in English, gets the award he covets, a collection of classic novels.
The beginning, which shows Beth and J.W. preoccupied with typical teenage concerns, foreshadows their future, for it is Beth who continues in the world of books and J.W. who must enter the world of wage earning. Author Hugh. R.MacDonald drops a further hint of what lies in store for J.W. when he and Bth note that they don't see much of their pal, Mickey, any more. Ever since he went into the mine as a trapper boy, he's always sleeping.
MacDonald tells his story in the third person, mostly from J.W.'s point of view, but occasionally from that of his parents. Through them, readers soon learn that to survive, the household needs two wage earners. The family is resourceful, growing a garden, picking wild berries, fishing and snaring rabbits.
MacDonald uses vivid, carefully selected, symbolic detail in presenting the underground world. On J.W.'s first shift, a rat runs up his leg. He throws it agains the wall, injuring its leg. Almost immediately, he feels sorry,and, in the days to come, he makes sure it gets its share of oats from the pit horses' feed. Although some of the miners kill rats, J.W. believes they serve a purpose, like canaries in a mine. When they rush out of an area, they warn the miners of danger. J. W. names his pet rat "Tennyson" and eventually sets it free.
In Emile Zola's Germinal, the blint pit ponies whose entire lives are spent underground, symbolize the miners, but in this novel, the symbolism is more cheerful. Tennyson's liberation foreshadows J.W.'s release from work to which he is not suited. The rat sections reminded me of a scene in D.H. Lawrence's Sons and Lovers where the coal miner father tells his young children about his pet mice underground.
Throughout the novel, the author presents the miners as strong, cooperative, capable and daring. He also shows that they are more than just their jobs. Red, the shift boss, is a wise and helpful mentor for new workers; Smitty, from Barbadoes, quotes poetry from memory, and Andrew Donaldson demonstrates skill and precision in his drawings of life underground which explain the mine to his son.
The black and white illustrations, supposedly drawn by the fictitious Andrew Donaldson, are by the real life artist Michael G. MacDonald. They appear singly throughout the novel, then all together in a mosaic, and are crucial to the plot. From looking at them, and from exploring the mine with his friend, Mickey, J.W. knkows of an abandoned tunnel only about three or four feet from Tunnel Seven. Eventually he uses this knowledge in a timely and brave way. Subsequently, he uses his father's drawing in another bold move that improves the family's finances.
Among the great novels abouat coal miners is Richard Llewellyn's How Green Was My Valley, in which a strike is central to the plot. Perhaps Hugh R. MacDonald will write another novel which focuses on union activities and labour actions in Cape Breton mines. J.B. McLachlan, a real life famous trade union leader, is mentioned but does not appear in the action of Trapper Boy; however, an internet search suggests that the struggles he led could provide material for several novels.
While reading Trapper Boy, I remembered my father's first cousin, the late William George Bott, of Linton, Staffordshier, England, who went into the mines at age 14,like the fictional J.W., and who had intersting tales to tell when I met him in his old age. Hugh R. MacDonald manages to educate without being didactic, and his upbeat ending has a bittersweet element which makes it realistic. Trapper Boy is excellent literature and ought to win prizes. Congratulations to the author and to Cape Breton University Press for bringing this novel into being.
Trapper Boy covers four months in the life of 14 year old John Wallace Donaldson, known as "J.W." The year is 1926,and J.W., who lives in Sydney Mines, NS, is graduating from Grade Eight. He wins two silver dollars for coming first in two subjects, but his friend, Beth, who ties with him for the best marks in English, gets the award he covets, a collection of classic novels.
The beginning, which shows Beth and J.W. preoccupied with typical teenage concerns, foreshadows their future, for it is Beth who continues in the world of books and J.W. who must enter the world of wage earning. Author Hugh. R.MacDonald drops a further hint of what lies in store for J.W. when he and Bth note that they don't see much of their pal, Mickey, any more. Ever since he went into the mine as a trapper boy, he's always sleeping.
MacDonald tells his story in the third person, mostly from J.W.'s point of view, but occasionally from that of his parents. Through them, readers soon learn that to survive, the household needs two wage earners. The family is resourceful, growing a garden, picking wild berries, fishing and snaring rabbits.
MacDonald uses vivid, carefully selected, symbolic detail in presenting the underground world. On J.W.'s first shift, a rat runs up his leg. He throws it agains the wall, injuring its leg. Almost immediately, he feels sorry,and, in the days to come, he makes sure it gets its share of oats from the pit horses' feed. Although some of the miners kill rats, J.W. believes they serve a purpose, like canaries in a mine. When they rush out of an area, they warn the miners of danger. J. W. names his pet rat "Tennyson" and eventually sets it free.
In Emile Zola's Germinal, the blint pit ponies whose entire lives are spent underground, symbolize the miners, but in this novel, the symbolism is more cheerful. Tennyson's liberation foreshadows J.W.'s release from work to which he is not suited. The rat sections reminded me of a scene in D.H. Lawrence's Sons and Lovers where the coal miner father tells his young children about his pet mice underground.
Throughout the novel, the author presents the miners as strong, cooperative, capable and daring. He also shows that they are more than just their jobs. Red, the shift boss, is a wise and helpful mentor for new workers; Smitty, from Barbadoes, quotes poetry from memory, and Andrew Donaldson demonstrates skill and precision in his drawings of life underground which explain the mine to his son.
The black and white illustrations, supposedly drawn by the fictitious Andrew Donaldson, are by the real life artist Michael G. MacDonald. They appear singly throughout the novel, then all together in a mosaic, and are crucial to the plot. From looking at them, and from exploring the mine with his friend, Mickey, J.W. knkows of an abandoned tunnel only about three or four feet from Tunnel Seven. Eventually he uses this knowledge in a timely and brave way. Subsequently, he uses his father's drawing in another bold move that improves the family's finances.
Among the great novels abouat coal miners is Richard Llewellyn's How Green Was My Valley, in which a strike is central to the plot. Perhaps Hugh R. MacDonald will write another novel which focuses on union activities and labour actions in Cape Breton mines. J.B. McLachlan, a real life famous trade union leader, is mentioned but does not appear in the action of Trapper Boy; however, an internet search suggests that the struggles he led could provide material for several novels.
While reading Trapper Boy, I remembered my father's first cousin, the late William George Bott, of Linton, Staffordshier, England, who went into the mines at age 14,like the fictional J.W., and who had intersting tales to tell when I met him in his old age. Hugh R. MacDonald manages to educate without being didactic, and his upbeat ending has a bittersweet element which makes it realistic. Trapper Boy is excellent literature and ought to win prizes. Congratulations to the author and to Cape Breton University Press for bringing this novel into being.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Prose and poetry for the festive season
Two texts always spring to my mind at Christmas.
The first is a prayer (a grace, actually) written by J.S. Woodsworth, one of the founders of the CCF party, the Co-operative Commonwealth Federation (forerunner of the New Democratic Party.)
"We are thankful for these and all the good things in life. We recognize that they are a part of our common heritage and come to us through the efforts of our brothers and sisters the world over. What we desire for ourselves, we wish for all. To this end, may we take our share in the world's work and the world's struggles."
The second is a poem by Thomas Hardy, written in 1915. Hardy refers to a folk belief that farm animals kneel at midnight on Christmas Eve. I must admit that, as a child growing up on a farm with cattle, I was always tucked in my bed at midnight so never checked to see if they did.
THE OXEN
Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.
"Now they are all on their knees."
An elder said as we sat in a flock
By the embers in hearthside ease.
We pictured the meek, mild creatures where
They dwelt in their strawy pen.
Nor did it occur to one of us there
To doubt they were kneeling then.
So fair a fancy few would weave
In these years! Yet I feel
If someone said on Christmas Eve
"Come, see the oxen kneel,
"In the lonely barton by younder coomb
Our childhood used to know",
I should go with him in the gloom
Hoping it might be so.
The first is a prayer (a grace, actually) written by J.S. Woodsworth, one of the founders of the CCF party, the Co-operative Commonwealth Federation (forerunner of the New Democratic Party.)
"We are thankful for these and all the good things in life. We recognize that they are a part of our common heritage and come to us through the efforts of our brothers and sisters the world over. What we desire for ourselves, we wish for all. To this end, may we take our share in the world's work and the world's struggles."
The second is a poem by Thomas Hardy, written in 1915. Hardy refers to a folk belief that farm animals kneel at midnight on Christmas Eve. I must admit that, as a child growing up on a farm with cattle, I was always tucked in my bed at midnight so never checked to see if they did.
THE OXEN
Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.
"Now they are all on their knees."
An elder said as we sat in a flock
By the embers in hearthside ease.
We pictured the meek, mild creatures where
They dwelt in their strawy pen.
Nor did it occur to one of us there
To doubt they were kneeling then.
So fair a fancy few would weave
In these years! Yet I feel
If someone said on Christmas Eve
"Come, see the oxen kneel,
"In the lonely barton by younder coomb
Our childhood used to know",
I should go with him in the gloom
Hoping it might be so.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
My review of TIME WILL TELLl by Donald Grieg
My review of Time Will Tell, by Donald Grieg, published by Thames River Press, appears in Compulsive Reader at http://www.compulsivereader.com/html/modules.php?name=News&file=article&sid=3216
START A NOVEL
In January/February and April/May 2013, I hope to be teaching my course, START A NOVEL at St. Pius X High School. Whether or not the course runs depends on enrollment. The information is below:
Start a Novel
Begin a book length work of fiction. Ruth Latta, local author of seven novels, will provide information and exercises to help you "grow a novel". Learn about "The Hero's Journey", Point of View, the novelist's promises to the reader, and more.
Winter 2013
4 weeks, 10 a.m. to 12 noon $58 plus HST
St. Pius. Saturdays Starting January 26 (18005)
Spring 2013
4 weeks, 10 a.m. to 12 noon, $58 plus HST
St. Pius, Saturdays, Starting April 20 (28005)
To register, contact Kristie Vanbergen, General Interest Clerk, Continuing and Communithy Education Department, Ottawa Catholic School Board
Tel. 613-224-4455 ext. 2337
www.fallconnections.com
www.ocsb.ca
Kristie.Vanbergen@ocsb.ca
Start a Novel
Begin a book length work of fiction. Ruth Latta, local author of seven novels, will provide information and exercises to help you "grow a novel". Learn about "The Hero's Journey", Point of View, the novelist's promises to the reader, and more.
Winter 2013
4 weeks, 10 a.m. to 12 noon $58 plus HST
St. Pius. Saturdays Starting January 26 (18005)
Spring 2013
4 weeks, 10 a.m. to 12 noon, $58 plus HST
St. Pius, Saturdays, Starting April 20 (28005)
To register, contact Kristie Vanbergen, General Interest Clerk, Continuing and Communithy Education Department, Ottawa Catholic School Board
Tel. 613-224-4455 ext. 2337
www.fallconnections.com
www.ocsb.ca
Kristie.Vanbergen@ocsb.ca
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Three jarring moments
Since I'm not a sci-fi/fantasy fan, I don't read the novels of U.S. author, Holly Lisle, but I like her blog, admire her courses and her advice to writers, and enjoy the writing tips that she sends me (and hundreds of other people who have signed up for them). Sometimes Lisle shares questions or comments that she has received if they illustrate a shared concern among writers. Occasionally she shares rude feedback if it pertains to the craft of writing. Usually the comments from such critics say more about them than about Lisle's work or ideas.
Lisle's encounters with difficult people and false ideas about writing and make me feel in good company, as I muse about three jarring writing-related experiences of the past couple of weeks.
At a lecture by a Ph.D. candidate in English Literature, I was shocked when she repeatedly referred to two well-known memoirs as "novels." The two books were The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas, by Gertrude Stein, and A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway. Yes, both Stein and Hemingway wrote novels, and yes, a lot of genre-blurring is going on these days, but in these two particular books, the authors are writing about real people by their real names, sharing their memories of the past, and presenting their material as being true and factual. The books are supposed to be non-fiction, not fiction. A specialist in English literature should be more careful when referring to genres.
Jarring Incident Number Two is really two incidents: two emails from strangers fishing for information about my business arrangements with my publisher. I like to be approachable and helpful to aspiring writers, but even in this reveal-all age, where the concept of privacy is no longer understood, there are some things that are my business and my business only. As well, I don't have the time to counsel people for free, either on the phone or by email, about the pros and cons of one publishing arrangement versus another. Be a grown-up. Do your own research and come to your own decisions.
The third jarring incident came out of my conversation with an aspiring writer of mature years who wrote as part of his career for many years and would like to try his hand at fiction. He has read widely in his favourite genre and has signed up for a local writing course.
"I've only attended two classes but already I've learned several things I'm doing wrong," he told me.
Hm. I know the course instructor, and his remark doesn't surprise me. How about all the things he is doing right? Too much criticism at an early stage is destructive. A negative, adversarial approach is pedagogically unsound. Anyone who cares about writing enough to enrol in a course must have some talents and assets to bring to the craft, and it's the teacher's job to find them.
Well, enough thinking about the wonderful world of writing. It's time for me to do some.
Lisle's encounters with difficult people and false ideas about writing and make me feel in good company, as I muse about three jarring writing-related experiences of the past couple of weeks.
At a lecture by a Ph.D. candidate in English Literature, I was shocked when she repeatedly referred to two well-known memoirs as "novels." The two books were The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas, by Gertrude Stein, and A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway. Yes, both Stein and Hemingway wrote novels, and yes, a lot of genre-blurring is going on these days, but in these two particular books, the authors are writing about real people by their real names, sharing their memories of the past, and presenting their material as being true and factual. The books are supposed to be non-fiction, not fiction. A specialist in English literature should be more careful when referring to genres.
Jarring Incident Number Two is really two incidents: two emails from strangers fishing for information about my business arrangements with my publisher. I like to be approachable and helpful to aspiring writers, but even in this reveal-all age, where the concept of privacy is no longer understood, there are some things that are my business and my business only. As well, I don't have the time to counsel people for free, either on the phone or by email, about the pros and cons of one publishing arrangement versus another. Be a grown-up. Do your own research and come to your own decisions.
The third jarring incident came out of my conversation with an aspiring writer of mature years who wrote as part of his career for many years and would like to try his hand at fiction. He has read widely in his favourite genre and has signed up for a local writing course.
"I've only attended two classes but already I've learned several things I'm doing wrong," he told me.
Hm. I know the course instructor, and his remark doesn't surprise me. How about all the things he is doing right? Too much criticism at an early stage is destructive. A negative, adversarial approach is pedagogically unsound. Anyone who cares about writing enough to enrol in a course must have some talents and assets to bring to the craft, and it's the teacher's job to find them.
Well, enough thinking about the wonderful world of writing. It's time for me to do some.
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