Tag Archives: 50BookPledge2011

My Dear I Wanted To Tell You, Louisa Young #50BookPledge

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ARC cover of My Dear I Wanted to Tell You

I don’t usually post images of ARC (advanced reading copies) covers, but I just thought the ARC cover of Louisa Young’s My Dear I Wanted to Tell You unbelievably poignant. It depicts the fill-in-the-blanks postcards provided to injured soldiers at hospitals in World War I to send to their loved ones. The pain, loss, and love encapsulated in this single, impersonal document touched me, as did the book. I found the scene where this card is filled out literally gut-wrenching, in my opinion, the best scene in the book.

My Dear deals with a difficult topic – World War I – and Young doesn’t shy away from the gory details. In one scene, Julia, a nurse, talks to her cousin-in-law and non-nurse Rose about a patient whose face had been burned off. Julia describes in excruciating detail exactly how the doctor grafted the patient a new face using skin from his chest. It was horrific, which I think is Young’s point. It’s like Young presents us with snapshots of the war taken with a soldier’s point-and-shoot camera: this is war; deal with it.

The strength of My Dear lies in the characters, and with such an emotional subject, its impact is best felt when Young writes with a bit of detachment. Take for example the following passage, about a young man signing up to enlist: “He went next door to fill in forms. …Length of service: one year or duration of war. Duration of war, of course. He didn’t want to spend a whole year in the army.”

Conversely then, the impact is lessened for me whenever Young lapses into wordiness. The narrator and the characters editorialize at times, and in trying to be descriptive, grandiose and emotional, just ends up being long-winded. On one hand, there is a bit of nostalgia associated with this style of writing, which at times reminds me of some Victorian novels. On the other hand, I sometimes found it too much telling rather than showing, and on a personal level, I found myself detaching emotionally from the story at these points.

That being said, it was really the characters and their stories that stuck with me. They were all wonderfully fleshed out, and I found myself pulling for them. Young even manages to make Rose, seemingly a vain, silly character too delicate to help out in war efforts, sympathetic. Rose’s primary characteristic is great physical beauty, and while this has served her well before the war, it is Julia’s more practical set of skills (intelligence, the ability to dress wounds without fainting) that are valued. Rose’s husband Peter is off to fight in the war, and Rose obsesses about properly performing her duties as a soldier’s wife. Young’s account of her struggle to be useful, a “private war,” so to speak, turns what could’ve been an annoying character into a complex, textured human being. At times, Rose was even more sympathetic than Julia, the purported heroine who nurses soldiers back to health.

Published cover of My Dear I Wanted to Tell You

The most interesting plot point to me though was the love story between working class Riley Purefoy and socialite Nadine Waveney. They are in love, but are kept apart first by Nadine’s mother, then later by the war. Their letters to each other are beautiful and touching — long and emotional, with almost old-fashioned language, yet sincere rather than maudlin. Quite simply, I believed in their love, and I wanted them to be happy together.

With their old-fashioned language, Young again takes what could’ve been annoying and makes it work somehow. For example, when it comes to sex, both Nadine and Riley are quite prudish, unable to utter the words and relegated to blushes and ellipses. Normally, I’d be annoyed at such a potentially cutesy move. Yet, here, I found their shyness endearing; I found their romance endearing.

My Dear is definitely not a happy book. But it is a hopeful one, filled with very human characters. Even the death of a secondary character affected me. They’re that real.

Up Up Up, Julie Booker #50BookPledge

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I cannot say enough good things about Julie Booker’s debut collection of short stories Up Up Up. I’m so vain I probably think these stories are about me, but chances are, if you’re a woman, you will too. Booker writes with subtlety, humour and depth, revealing layers within the most mundane situations and grounding the most exotic adventures in reality. Her writing is, at times, laugh out loud funny, but it’s the kind of humour where it’s funny because it’s true, and you feel a pang of pain because it’s the kind of situation where all you can do is laugh.

Booker’s descriptions are snappy yet vivid: a character named Heather is described as having “a man body with breasts,” the blooming of an amaryllis as “disgusting… From cock to cunt in a matter of days.” I, quite literally, laughed out loud in a mall food court while reading her speed dating story “Breakup Fresh.” To that confession, Julie Booker responded, “A mall food court + speed dating have lots in common: quick turnover, a story at every table…and some who always leave a trail of garbage.” For even more samples of her writing, check out her incredibly entertaining pieces in the National Post’s Afterword.

I tried to choose a favourite story to write about, but honestly, I just liked so many of them. Booker’s stories talk about romance, friendship, body image, aging, and so many other things that were relevant to me, personally, and she handles them with such delicacy and candour that her stories felt even more real. “Geology in Motion,” for example, is about a pair of plus-sized friends taking a kayaking trip in Alaska. They go from making fun of the image of “two fat ladies in a kayak! In skintight wetsuits. Eek!” to buying supplies and going on the trip. Booker’s description of one woman’s fear and the other’s desire to keep pushing further made me want to cheer them on, and the way the story ends made me have to stop for a moment. Then, of course, I went on to the next story, eager to see what Booker had in store for me next.

“The Exchange,” about an aspiring artist and an aspiring art collector falling in love at the Art Gallery of Ontario, is more cynical than romantic. Booker begins with the (intentionally, on the author’s part) stilted dialogue of a carefully choreographed flirtation, and goes into a very matter of fact depiction of the development of the characters’ relationship. We hear the story from aspiring artist Diana’s point of view, and while she very logically interprets Henry’s actions, the violence of her emotions comes forth in Booker’s descriptions of her art work.

The best thing about Up Up Up being a collection of short stories rather than a novel is that each story offers a different type of reading pleasure, like a box of truffles instead of a single chocolate bar. There’s a wonderful feeling in treating yourself to one wonderful story at a time. Because these tales are so short, so much emotion comes from details: a line of dialogue tossed off by a character, or a singular character trait, like the clown in “Below Below” insisting on teaching in French even though she grew up in “Bumfuck-Nowhere, Ontario.”

Up Up Up is, quite possibly, the best book I’ve read all year, and I’ve read a lot of very good ones. To all women: buy this book. Read it, then pass it on to your sister, your best friend, your mother. Even better, if you’re in or near Toronto, go see Julie Booker yourself at the Harbourfront Centre, Wednesday, June 8th, 7:30 pm. The back cover of Up Up Up warns readers, “Prepare to meet your new favourite writer.” All I can say is, Ms. Booker, it’s a pleasure.

Water for Elephants, Sara Gruen #50BookPledge

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I read Sara Gruen’s Water for Elephants mostly because the trailer for the movie looked very interesting, and I wanted to read the book before watching the movie. I wasn’t sure what to expect, having once tried Gruen’s other book Ape House, and finding so bored by it that I gave up halfway through. Elephants, however, was an utter delight to read, and I found myself zipping through it.

When he receives news of his parents’ death and having left him penniless, veterinary student Jacob Jankowski runs away and joins the circus. He falls in love with Marlena, who is the star of the horse act and wife of August, a cruel and abusive animal trainer. The story takes place in during the Great Depression, where circuses must struggle extra hard to survive. The circus Jacob joins has nowhere near the grandeur of the Ringling Brothers, yet has its own cast of characters. It has a clear class system, and when things get especially rough, only performers get paid and workers know better than to complain. As both the circus vet and friend of the performer-class Marlena, Jacob straddles the uneasy line dividing the classes, eating at the performers’ side of the cafeteria, but being classified as a worker on payday. Circus owner Uncle Al is a greedy swindler who has no compunction about “red lighting” (throwing off a moving train) workers to save costs.

The appeal of any circus story is the cast of characters, and Gruen certainly peppers this book with a colourful bunch. Jacob is the compassionate foil to August. While he starts off angry at his father (also a vet) for having healed animals in exchange, literally, for beans, Jacob soon comes to understand his father’s love for animals, and comes to care for the circus’ menagerie. As a love interest, Marlena is charming, and her love for her horses shows how perfect a match she is for Jacob. A dwarf, a drunk old man, and various other circus “freaks” provide a strong supporting cast — odd enough to keep us ever aware of the circus’ magic, yet human enough to keep it all believable.

The star, which anyone who has seen the movie trailer would know, is Rosie, the ten foot tall elephant who is introduced to August as being too dumb to train. It turns out she is actually quite intelligent, and her antics both add colour to the story (e.g. stealing lemonade) and make you cheer her on (her clear devotion to Marlena and hatred for August). The parts where Jacob gets to see a performance and is caught up in the magic are vividly described, and I at least wished I was there. Little details like “having a straw house,” which is when all the seats are sold out, so the circus puts straw on the ground so more people can still come in, are wonderful reminders of the level of excitement a circus performance can inspire.

Elephants moves from Jacob’s time in the circus to Jacob at ninety (or ninety-three, it’s hard for him to remember these days) at a senior’s home. A circus is setting up just outside the home, and he eagerly awaits his family to take him to the circus. This Jacob is just as lovable as his younger self. Nonagenarian Jacob is cantankerous, and almost offended by a fellow resident who claims to have carried water for elephants in a circus, which Jacob insists is impossible. He clearly misses the excitement and the magic of the circus, and by the end of this book, you will too.