Author Archives: Vicki Ziegler

Sleeping It Off in Rapid City, by August Kleinzahler

Sleeping It Off In Rapid City, by August Kleinzahler

I am loving Kleinzahler’s jaunty juxtaposition of high-falutin’ references with down-to-earth commentary. Having heard him read and give speeches, it’s great to hear his voice in my head as I’m reading his words. I go back to this wonderful, funny, moving speech of his all the time:

http://www.griffinpoetryprize.com/awards-and-poets/speeches/august-kleinzahler-2005-awards/

One of my favourite poems from “Rapid City” is thematically similar to Kleinzahler’s “The Strange Hours Travellers Keep”, about the disorientation that travellers feel in places like indistinguishable hotel rooms:

On waking in a room and not knowing where one is

There is a bureau and there is a wall
and no one is beside you.
Beyond the curtains only silence,
broken now and again by a car or truck.
And if you are very still
an occasional drip from the faucet.
Such are the room’s acoustics
it is difficult to place exactly where from.
Also, the tick of the clock.
It is very dark.
There exist all manner of blacks,
lampblack, for instance,
much favored by the ancients,
so deep and so dense
and free of any shade of gray
or brown. But this,
this dark is of another order,
compounded of innumerable shadows,
a weave of them.
One is able to make out shapes.
It is not restful, to be like this, here,
nor is it a fearful place.
In a moment or two you will know
exactly where you are,
on which side of the door,
your wallet, your shoes,
and what today you’ll have to do.

Cities each have a kind of light,
a color even,
or set of undertones
determined by the river or hills
as well as by the stone
or their countless buildings.
I cannot yet recall what city this is I’m in.
It must be close to dawn.

No Country For Old Men, by Cormac McCarthy

No Country For Old Men, by Cormac McCarthy

This plainspoken book is riveting, emotionally stunning, a marvel. Its rapid-fire juxtaposition of harsh, abrupt violence, unexpected thoughtfulness, enduring tenderness and wry wit is unforgettable. Its themes have Biblical majesty. That one of the strongest ethical statements comes from the most twisted, perverse characters is a haunting conundrum. Equally haunting is the Bells’ love story, which underpins the entire story.

The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism, by Naomi Klein

The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism, by Naomi Klein

Overall, I feel like I learned a lot, as I did with “No Logo”. I’m also filled with even more admiration for Klein’s intellect and tenacity with complex, thorny, overwhelming subject matter. Unlike “No Logo”, however, “Shock Doctrine” left me feeling pretty bleak, hopeless and powerless. It wasn’t until mere pages from the end that Klein starts to give examples of people rising up against and finding ways to resist being shocked into accepting the Freidmanesque privatization of government and social services – almost as if she is pretty weary and despairing of the subject, too.

The Disappeared, by Kim Echlin

The Disappeared, by Kim Echlin

Intoxicatingly paced, Kim Echlin’s “The Disappeared” draws the reader into the rich experiences of its characters and their vibrant relationships and worlds. Echlin convincingly captures perspectives and emotions at different ages – the naive conviction and unstoppable passion of a precocious teenager, the quiet resolve of an aging widower and parent, the death-defying devotion of a person to a tragically lost family, history and country, the determination bordering on obsession of another person literally reclaiming pieces of a shattered life and love. Surprisingly, Echlin’s prose is spare and at times abrupt, yet it still manages to sweep the reader into 1960s-70s Montreal and Phnom Penh and back again. This is a moving, evocative and unforgettable story.

Negotiating With the Dead: A Writer on Writing, by Margaret Atwood

Negotiating With the Dead: A Writer on Writing, by Margaret Atwood

Margaret Atwood made me get teary-eyed on the subway while reading this book.

“Negotiating With the Dead” is a reflection on the roles of writers and their readers, adapted and somewhat expanded from the Empson Lectures which Margaret Atwood delivered at Cambridge University in 2000. It is breathtakingly erudite and eclectic, but is also interwoven with very personal and down-to-earth recollections and episodes from Atwood’s own journey as both a writer and a reader. It was a sweet reminiscence about the person whom she considered to be her first reader – and who she later paid tribute to with an appearance in one of her novels – that brought on my moved and appreciative tears. It also drove home that the audience and the individual reader are critical figures in the symbiosis of the writer’s creative process.

This book brims with examples from the classical to the contemporary of the multifaceted and sometimes conflicted roles, challenges and opportunities of the writer. At the same time, much of it has a conversational tone that undoubtedly stems from both its origin as a series of lectures, but also Atwood’s strong and singular voice. Some might count that as a flaw of this work, in that the overall voice is somewhat inconsistent, but I think that’s part of its charm and makes the subject matter that much more approachable, digestible and memorable.

Canada Reads 2012

Negotiating With the Dead is one of the Canadian non-fiction titles I’ve recommended for Canada Reads 2012: True Stories. If you’d like to support this book as a possible Canada Reads finalist, you can vote for it here, as well as perusing some other great recommendations.