Birdie

Birdie

By Tracey Lindberg

Everything I read about Tracey Lindberg’s Birdie told me to expect humour.  So naturally, I thought I’d be reading a fairly lighthearted novel.  Not so.  In fact, Birdie was not what I expected at all. 

Birdie, or Bernice Meetoos, is a young Cree woman from Loon Lake, Alberta.  Raised by her mother Maggie and Auntie Val, and close to her sistercousin Skinny Freda, Birdie has a small but tight-knit group of women to support her.  In fact, Birdie trusts only women.  Having suffered for many years at the hands of her uncles, it’s easy to see why.  The men in her life are serious abusers of both alcohol and women.  One uncle in particular preys on Birdie sexually from the time she is very young.

The lifestyle in her home is so detrimental, in fact, that Birdie is eventually taken into foster care.  The Ingelsons are a white couple who do everything that caring parents should do.  But Birdie doesn’t believe she deserves a stable home.  She soon ends up in the “San” (aka Sanitorium), and then on the streets of Edmonton.

She finally travels to Gibsons, B.C., ostensibly in search of Pat John, the only First Nations character in The Beachcombers.  Bernice regards him as “a healthy, working Indian man” and, truth be told, she is somewhat obsessed with him.  (Her TV obsession also extends to watching The Frugal Gourmet.)

In Gibsons Bernice meets Lola, a bakery owner who gives her a job and a place to stay.  But rather than flourishing, Birdie turns inward. She takes to her bed and stays there.  She doesn’t eat or talk.  Her spirit leaves her body at times and she begins to scrutinize her life, both present and past.

Fearing the worst, Lola calls Birdie’s family.  The women gather.  They rally.  They care for Birdie, attempting to bring her back to life, to herself.  Birdie begins to shut down, willing her life to be over.  But these persistent women have endured, and Birdie can too.

Birdie examines the pain of sexual abuse and the tragic upbringing of so many First Nations women.  Several times we are reminded that a Native woman can so easily go missing.  But beyond the pain there is renewal.  There is the strength of women’s character and the power of female friendship and family.  There is the ability to laugh, to feast, to enjoy The Frugal Gourmet.  There is life.

Eruption

by Steve Olson

I was just a baby when Mount St. Helens blew up.  I remember my parents telling me about the ash fall, but I always wondered how that could be: the mountain is 500 km away.  After reading Eruption: the Untold Story of Mount St. Helens by Steve Olson, now I get it.  It was a very big explosion, certainly largest seen in North America in any of our lifetimes.

 

Just like the mountain’s explosion, Eruption starts off slowly: if you were ever interested in the history of the forestry company Weyerhaeuser, the whole first half of this book is a good place to start.  We learn the long, detailed story of how Weyerhaeuser was established in the American Midwest, how the owner went through several business ventures, how Weyerhaeuser expanded to set the pattern of settlement and land ownership throughout Washington State and the immediate areas surrounding Mount St. Helens.

 

Eventually Eruption gets to the meat of the story:  Mount St. Helens starts to stir; the concerns that loggers had through the years about the little earthquakes, steam jets, mini-spouts of ash; and how the company refused to put much thought into the potential dangers of having a volcano in their backyard.  However, even with these details we’re halfway through the book. I wanted to know what really happened and what the consequences of such a huge explosion were. 

 

We do get there, but it’s a surprisingly short part of the story. As soon as the description of events finishes (and they were exciting events), the story moves to conservation and preservation.  It is a little disappointing.  With a title like “Eruption” I was expecting something much more exciting.

 

Having said all that, another volcanic event in the Pacific Northwest is pretty likely. As dry as the first part of this book was there are lessons to learn about how government and companies, as well as individual landowners, dealt with the Mount St. Helens eruption.  It’s worth a read just for that information alone.  Just don’t expect it to blow your mind.

 

How to Be Both

by Ali Smith


Ali Smith’s How to Be Both is not an easy read, but it is a clever and engaging one. Split into two separate sections, one set in the Renaissance and one set in the modern era, the stream-of-consciousness style of writing can make it a challenge to grasp the two separate stories and their connection. George (full name Georgia) is a teenage girl who has suddenly lost her beloved artist mother. The last trip they took together was to Italy, where they viewed art by Francesco del Cossa, a real-life renaissance artist. The second half of the book is the story of del Cossa, and while it is beautifully written I would have preferred to have read George’s story throughout.

Smith is my favourite fiction author, and I’ve read every novel and short story she’s written. Her novel Hotel World is similarly experimental, though it isn’t as difficult to focus on. In all of Smith’s writing, she plays with the concepts of storytelling and art, and this book is no exception. Fragmented and poetic, it is an exploration of love, language, family, gender and genre.  Smith’s turns-of-phrase are beautiful as ever, and the writing contains a wit that cuts open and exposes the depth of life’s grief. Books about loss can be overwhelming if not tempered with gentleness about those left behind, and George is simultaneously self-aware and completely, vulnerably lost. del Cossa’s section exposes the truth of the artist’s life- born a woman but raised as a man by a father who wanted to encourage his talented daughter’s success. It is a story about the pursuit of art- del Cossa’s friends and lovers come and go as fragmented blips in time.

This novel, nominated for the 2014 Booker Prize, was released in two versions. In one, George’s section (“Camera”) comes first and del Cossa’s (“Eyes”) comes after. That is the version I read, and I tore through the first half much more quickly than I did the second. The alternate editions of the book are reversed, with “Eyes” at the beginning. I do recommend this book, but I think that I might have preferred to read the alternate version instead- if I’d known more about del Cossa it might have made George’s experience of the art a bit more meaningful.

Secret Daughter

Secret Daughter 

 

Secret Daughter by Shilpi Somaya Gowda interweaves the stories of Kavita and Somer, two mothers connected by one daughter. 

When Somer, in America, realizes she cannot have a child of her own, she and her husband, Krishnan, decide to adopt. Kavita, having already lost one daughter in a country that favours boys, decides to save her second daughter’s life by taking her away to an orphanage in Mumbai. Although she eventually gives birth to a son, which her and her husband, Jasu, are able to keep, her daughter is always on her mind. 

Kavita’s story is one of a mother’s choice to do what is best for her daughter, when she has no choice herself. Leaving her baby, Usha, at the orphanage is a risky trip for Kavita, but is the only way the baby girl can live. 

Usha is one of the fortunate babies to be adopted from the orphanage, as Somer and Krishnan take her home to California, naming her Asha. 

What follows is the side by side tales of each of the women’s lives. The difficulties Somer faces as a new mother of a daughter who does not resemble her, and of a daughter who challenges her Indian roots, is something Somer feels threatened by, and affects her abilities as Asha’s mother.

Meanwhile, Kavita faces her own challenges as she and Jasu try to make a living in India. Moving from the farm, to the slums, to the city, they struggle to support themselves and their son. 

This book is an enjoyable read, and does not gloss over the subjects of infanticide and extreme poverty in India; it paints a vivid picture through the characters and their interaction. This intense description is contrasted by Gowda’s frustrating portrayal of Somer as dismissive of her husband- and her daughter’s Indian heritage; it contributes to her tumultuous relationship with her daughter, and makes it hard to sympathize with Somer’s troubles. 

I recommend this book for anyone who wants a read that tugs at the heart strings, and is a good thought provoking story.

 

 

Wonder

Wonder

 

By Dominique Fortier

Dominique Fortier’s novel Wonder links three different stories connected by time, fate and family… and volcanoes.

We begin with “Monsters and Marvels”.  Set in 1902, the story centres around Baptiste, a working-class black man from the island of Martinique who has never known a real family.  The elites of the island persist in ignoring the warning signs of the bubbling Mount Pelee which soon erupts, leaving Baptiste truly alone as no other survivors are found. His unique position gets him a job with the Barnum & Bailey Circus where he and the other “Phenomena” (the bearded lady, conjoined twins) are the objects of pity and astonishment.  His loneliness is assuaged somewhat when he finally finds a family – as well as a passion which ends in tragedy.  Throughout his journey, Baptiste cannot shake the feeling that he is still the solitary man who wanders the island.

“Monsters” is followed by “Harmony of the Spheres”, in which the intellectually self-absorbed Edward Love finds happiness when he meets Garance, a musician gifted with the ability to hear every sound in her environment.  Edward is obsessed with mathematical formulas, while Garance can often be found with her ear to the earth, listening.  When they visit the ancient city of Pompeii, they immerse themselves in understanding the tragedy that incinerated a vibrant town in the midst going about its daily business. 

Set a century later, “Love Waves” depicts a modern-day romance between a Montreal dog walker and former circus performer, and the grave digger she meets on Mont Royal.  Fascinated by volcanoes himself, her nameless friend is also planning a trip to Pompeii.  Does her history with the circus and his interest in volcanoes connect these lovers to the first two stories?

At times each story is absorbing and Fortier is adept at describing growing romance and passion.  However, very wordy descriptions abound and get somewhat tiresome.  For example, high-society life figures prominently in “Monsters” although it has little to do with Baptiste. Intellectual ramblings make up a big part of Edward’s life in “Spheres”, often slowing the story to a crawl.  And Fortier paints a vivid picture of the forest in “Waves”; but when will the two characters fall in love already?!?

Still, Wonder is worth reading as the heart of each story makes it worthwhile.

To Rise Again At a Decent Hour

by Joshua Ferris

Healthy teeth are much more important to one’s overall constitution than I ever gave them credit for. It all ties in, as I learned from reading Joshua Ferris’ To Rise Again at a Decent Hour- not a dentistry textbook but an offbeat novel about a dentist who becomes the victim of an elaborate stolen-identity mishap.

Paul O’Rourke is an anxious character and that feeling of anxiety, that on-the-edge-mental-game between suppression and collapse, permeates the novel from the first to last. Paul is coddled by his routines and hampered by his inability to hope for anything better- a sort of secret nihilist (“Of course I alienate myself from society. It's the only way I know of not being constantly reminded of all the ways I'm alienated from society”). The twist occurs when our hapless dentist discovers that someone has created a website on behalf of his dental practice-in the guise of O’Rourke himself. He has previously refused to create one, staying away from the internet and social media full stop, and his initial thought is that the website has been hoisted upon him by one of his three employees- which includes former girlfriend Connie. Then comes an unasked-for Twitter account, with someone tweeting about religion under Paul’s name, and emails on a mysterious religious group called the Ulms. Paul’s distress mounts as he attempts to uncover who is this other Paul O’Rourke and what is he doing.

There are moments in the novel when the history of the Ulms bog down the story, taking on such breadth and detail that it feels more like Ferris was having too much fun to rein it in. Nevertheless, the writing is so impressive that I genuinely mourned the end of the novel’s characters, world, and idea. There are quotable lines to be enjoyed, such as: “…the minute he takes up the floss, says to himself, What’s the point? In the end, the heart stops, the cells die, the neurons go dark, bacteria consumes the pancreas, flies lay their eggs, beetles chew through tendons and ligaments, the skin turns to cottage cheese, the bones dissolve, and the teeth float away with the tide”.

For a book that so often delves deep into the uncomfortable feeling of anxiety, this is nevertheless a hopeful and often hilarious novel.