Category Archives: Reviews

Fuse, by Hollay Ghadery

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I’m pleased to welcome long-time bookish friend on social media Marion Agnew to present her first guest review to this blog.

Marion Agnew lives in Northwestern Ontario, near Lake Superior. She’s published fiction and creative nonfiction; her 2019 personal essay collection, Reverberations: A Daughter’s Meditations on Alzheimer’s, was shortlisted for the Louise de Kiriline Lawrence award for nonfiction. She is currently at work on a novel.

Fuse by Hollay GhaderyFuse, by Hollay Ghadery, is a remarkable book. I’ve seen it labeled “memoir,” but I’d describe it as a collection of personal — very personal — essays. Organized around themes, the chapters include poetic fragments and reflections, narratives and insights, considerations and re-considerations. Instead of building to a narrative climax, this rich material forms a mosaic, a representation of a life that’s coherent but still in progress. Ghadery deftly supplements her lived experience with background information to give readers insight into a larger cultural context.

And culture, in many iterations, lies at the core of this book. She explores clashes around Iranian-Canadian identity, both in her own life — in her own mind/body and in her community — and in the varying degrees of closeness and understanding in the relationship between her English-Canadian mother and Iranian-Canadian father. She looks at what it’s like to be culturally Muslim in a theoretically secular (but really waning-Western-Christian) society, and how differently her two brothers respond to their family’s nominal exposure to Islam.

Her subjects range widely: Life in a family, with its sometimes well-meaning expectations. Life in a human body, with its imperfections and demands that change with time and our experiences (pregnancy, fitness or lack thereof, age) of it. Life in a country with loud demands for conformity around all of the above, plus definitions of beauty.

Ghadery takes us along in her many attempts to make sense of these demands, through binging/purging food, starving, running, booze, men, and cleaning. All are forms of her drive to create and maintain order in the chaos of life.

And she doesn’t shy away from naming what she finds, in herself and in others. Here’s an example, about how people line up a stack of papers or wipe down a kitchen counter, then say, “I’m so OCD”:

“I have to swallow hot anger when I hear these comments. My disease has taken over my life. It’s made it so I’ve considered taking my own life rather than live for one more moment in my own head. And when I wasn’t actively thinking about killing myself, I was passively trying to kill myself by drinking and using prescribed pharmaceuticals.”

She adds this energizing, satisfying summary, one I’ve wished for to combat “jokes” around dementia:

“Increasing dialogue to create more knowledge about mental illness is great. Casual appropriation of these illnesses is not.”

Yes, this book might be difficult for some people to read, but it will be transformative for others. In sharing her actions, Ghadery is searingly honest — yet her exposure isn’t performative. There’s no parade: “look at me, I’m drinking vodka at all hours, fighting with everyone, and quitting yet another job!”

Instead, she owns these actions and their role in her life. Many of them were physically harmful, all of them were attempts to lessen spiritual pain. And all are part of her, part of what she has fused to create herself—a complicated woman and skilled writer.

Learn more about Fuse by Hollay Ghadery [Guernica Editions (MiroLand)] here.

Silent book club group looks to boost its young adult (YA) reading – the first of a series of review round-ups

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Many thanks to Toronto silent book club member Sundus Butt for the first of what we hope will be an ongoing series of mini-reviews and previews of young adult (YA) titles and recommendations. Sundus introduces this first installment.

After the suggestion of reading more YA titles emerged from our Silent Book Club, Vicki kindly offered to post a list of YA books that I’ve enjoyed throughout the years. I love adult fiction, but the YA section (9–12 in particular) is also full of incredible writing. There is a sea of wonder, heartbreak, and warmth that feels specific to this age group and it’s why I keep returning to it.

This will be an ongoing list with more book titles posted at the end of each month.

I sincerely hope you enjoy some of the titles that I mention.

Happy reading!

 

The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman

The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman

The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman (10+)

The sight filled the northern sky; the immensity of it was scarcely conceivable. As if from Heaven itself, great curtains of delicate light hung and trembled. Pale green and rose-pink, and as transparent as the most fragile fabric, and at the bottom edge a profound and fiery crimson like the fires of Hell, they swung and shimmered loosely with more grace than the most skillful dancer. Lyra […] was moved by it: it was so beautiful it was almost holy; she felt tears prick her eyes, and the tears splintered the light even further into prismatic rainbows.

I’m beginning this list with a well-known book, but it’s one of my all-time favourites. I can’t fully explain how much it meant to come across Lyra when I was a young reader (strong female protagonists were rare in YA at the time). She was a complex jumble of fierceness, intelligence, and vulnerability. Following her on an adventure to rescue her kidnapped friend, Roger, was a delight. The story is populated with brilliant characters and an amazing world that is at once familiar and distant. The fantastical elements of dæmons, witches, and armoured bears are melded perfectly with real places and objects. Everything from this book has stayed with me as I’ve grown up.

Front Desk by Kelly Yang

Front Desk by Kelly Yang

Front Desk by Kelly Yang (9–12)

“Why put a scary part in the middle of a beautiful piece?” I remember asking my piano teacher.
“Because life is scary sometimes, little one,” he had said.

After immigrating to the U.S. from China, Mia and her parents have had a difficult time. But they think their luck has turned when they get a chance to run a motel.

Based on Yang’s own experiences growing up, the story touches on a large range of issues from racism to exploitation of immigrant workers to poverty. The seriousness of what happens is skillfully balanced with the warmth of Mia and other characters. The overarching message is one of love and hope in the face of hardship, and it’s what makes Front Desk a book with such great heart.

The Crossover by Kwame Alexander

The Crossover by Kwame Alexander

The Crossover by Kwame Alexander (9+)

[…] ever since I watched the clip of Dad […] soaring through the air—his long twisted hair like wings carrying him high above the rim—I knew one day I’d need my own wings to fly.

This novel written in verse follows twin brothers Josh and Jordan as they navigate basketball, school, crushes, and family life. With sparse text, Alexander is able to convey so much and create full characters you empathize with. Everything is channelled through Josh’s perspective, and his voice is entirely convincing as a teen dealing with his life changing on and off the court. The Crossover has a large focus on basketball, but it’s used to explore the struggle of growing up and the love within a family. It’s a very short read, but an engaging one.

The Breadwinner by Deborah Ellis

The Breadwinner by Deborah Ellis

The Breadwinner by Deborah Ellis (teen)

Parvana was fresh out of hope. […] She crawled onto the toshak, covered herself with a quilt and resolved to stay there forever.
For two days she stayed on the toshak. “This is what the women in our family do when we’re sad,” she said to Mrs. Weera.
“They don’t stay there forever,” Mrs. Weera said. “They get up again, and they fight back.”

The above describes The Breadwinner in a nutshell. The story is primarily about the defiance and strength of women and girls in Taliban-occupied Afghanistan.

When 11-year-old Parvana’s father is arrested, the family decides to disguise Parvana as a boy so she can go outdoors to work and pick up food (women aren’t allowed outside without a male chaperone).

The story is short, but it’s a hard-hitting, unvarnished look at life under the Taliban regime. But from Parvana’s daily deception to a subversive magazine organized by Parvana’s mom and family friend, Mrs. Weera, the focus is on resilience and the incredible things people can do in the face of adversity.

When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead

When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead

When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead (9–12)

I walked up the hill, where the sunlight seemed to touch everything like it was a hyper kid running all over a toy store—it bounced off the dirty metal lampposts, the shiny brass awning posts, even the sunglasses of a woman walking her dogs with a cup of coffee in one hand. Everything shined.

This book is a mesh of real life with slight mystery and science fiction. The story follows Miranda, a sixth grader living in New York City as she starts to receive cryptic anonymous messages about the future.

This book is so well crafted. The plot, the pacing, and the revelations are all balanced out beautifully in a story based on single moments having huge unforeseen consequences.

And the main characters are all very real with some goodness, humour, and flaws. (The interactions between Miranda, her mom, and her mom’s boyfriend, Richard, are heartwarming.) But it’s Miranda’s growth that’s the highlight of the story, as she learns to look at the people around her and realize they aren’t always what they seem.

Word Nerd by Susin Nielsen

Word Nerd by Susin Nielsen

Word Nerd by Susin Nielsen (teen)

It dawned on me that this was what it was like to have friends. People who liked you for you. People you didn’t have to try to impress.

Set in Vancouver, this story follows 12-year-old Ambrose who is homeschooled because he’s been bullied so badly. Ambrose is not a “normal” kid. He doesn’t wear cool clothes, he has no filter when he speaks (which annoys children and adults alike), and he loves Scrabble.

Word Nerd is full of unique characters that you feel for from Ambrose himself to his well-meaning, but overprotective mom to the kind landlords and their grown son Cosmo. All these people (and more) help Ambrose in his search for acceptance, and he realizes that some of the best friendships are found in unexpected places.

Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson

Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson

Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson (10+)

How amazing these words are that slowly come to me.
How wonderfully on and on they go.

Will the words end, I ask whenever I remember to.

Nope, my sister says, all of five years old now, and promising me

infinity.

This book explores Woodson’s childhood in verse. It’s a short read, but paints a full and vivid picture of being torn between the north and south (Woodson grew up in both New York and South Carolina), learning about the civil rights movement, navigating religion, falling in love with stories (in particular making them up), trying to forge your own identity, and cherishing the simple joys of a family. Woodson clearly loves language and writing, and it shines through from beginning to end.

A group knitted together by the wonder of words

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Warmest thanks to Toronto silent book club member Mary Schulz for the introduction to our latest sbc meeting report. Mary has also graced this blog with some excellent book reviews, here and here.

Comfort. It is something we all crave from time to time. Perhaps we appreciate comforting pleasures more than ever as we near the anniversary of the start of this pandemic. It is strangely comforting to know that the world keeps behaving as it should at this time of year, bringing us days of blinding sunlight followed by greyer days of snow upon snow. Comfort foods, libations and human connection continue to be vitally important as we return home from walking, walking and more walking.

So, too, our Silent Book Club remains a comforting oasis in the midst of so much uncertainty. Even meeting virtually has become “comfortable” – the new normal. Seeing the familiar faces of friends from across the street and across the globe feels almost as good as sitting around the coffee table at our neighbourhood cafe. Hearing about – and seeing!- one member’s latest canine addition to the family, swapping tidbits of neighbourhood gossip (and wondering how alien or familiar does this sound to our book club member who tunes in from Wales?!) and sharing a laugh at the absurdity of it all make us feel that perhaps everything hasn’t changed, after all.

Falling into the easy routine of going around the circle, listening to what has enthralled our group book-wise (or not!) over the past month, scribbling notes to “check this book out!”, we laugh at the predictability that one member will stretch us to read poetry while others will help us re-think what a “good read” really means. Perhaps we should give that author another try; after all, so many in the group seem to enjoy her books. Or maybe it’s ok just to listen this month, if reading has not been top of mind of late.

Silent book club is a gathering of friends. Sometimes those friends are like-minded, sometimes not so much. But the group is knitted together by the wonder of words. How DOES she do it? How beautifully written was that?! Even if we don’t always understand their full meaning, words move us and make us feel.

And after all, isn’t that what a really great gathering of friends is all about? Feeling. Talking, laughing, sharing. And did we mention, “feeling”? Feeling safe and amongst friends, many of whom are just down the street or around the corner. Who knew that books could do all that? Well, we did, I guess. And thank goodness for that.

 

Here is the latest, positively gorgeous combined reading list from our group. The titles featured in each of our reports combine print and digital versions of books, along with audiobooks (which are indicated separately, with narrator/performer information where possible).

Emily's bookshelves

Lyla's books

Sue R's books

Vicki's books

Beth's books and bookshelves

Kath's book and Squizz watching rugby

The wrap-up discussion and the chat window of today’s zoom meeting also brimmed with book and book-related articles, recommendations and more, including:

Our previous silent book club meeting reports (online and in-person incarnations) and book lists are here.

You can also check out links to articles, CBC Radio interviews and more here – some with San Francisco-based Silent Book Club founders Guinevere de La Mare and Laura Gluhanich, and some with us here in east end Toronto.

Learn more about silent book clubs via Guinevere and Laura’s Silent Book Club web site. You can find information on meetings happening around the world and close to where you live. Some clubs are currently on haitus, but many are running virtual meetings in different formats. Please feel free to contact me for more information about our club and its offerings.

Let’s continue to light our way and our spirits with reading and continued connections to our fellow readers.

The chance to fling our virtual doors wide open

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We miss our in-person silent book club meetings, at Press and in the park …

Silent book club in the park ... with a new friend

(Sorry, I couldn’t resist …)

but as I observed in our last report, gathering around a zoom screen can sometimes be just like gathering around a warm fire in good company. It felt exactly like that again, as we enjoyed a mid-week, evening “pop-up” silent book club meeting this week.

Although it was an evening gathering for most of the attendees, from our local east end Toronto neighbourhood and from other locations around the greater Toronto area, it was a very late evening for one of our newest members, who was joining us from Wales. It was particularly lovely to hear her voice, see her smile and view her cozy, book-lined office … and to realize that an actually very wonderful aspect of how our group has adapted and moved online is that it has given us the opportunity to fling our virtual doors open in this fashion.

Live meetings and the warmth of literally reading together are not in the immediate future, but they’re in all our dreams. At the same time, I hope this extended book club format will still be part of our meeting mix. We’ve made new friends, we’ve expanded our discussions and reading lists … and we’ve used the online realm (and, notably this week, it feels like we’ve reclaimed and redeemed it) to do it.

Books from Rosanne

Toronto library entrance, covid style, from Todd

Lyla's reading

Lyla's reading

Lyla's reading

Philippa's reading

Vicki's reading

Without further ado, here is another generous combined reading list from our group. As always, the titles featured in each of our reports combine print and digital versions of books, along with audiobooks (which are indicated separately)

Our previous silent book club meeting reports (online and in-person incarnations) and book lists are here.

You can also check out links to articles, CBC Radio interviews and more here – some with San Francisco-based Silent Book Club founders Guinevere de La Mare and Laura Gluhanich, and some with us here in east end Toronto.

Learn more about silent book clubs via Guinevere and Laura’s Silent Book Club web site. You can find information on meetings happening around the world and close to where you live. Some clubs are currently on haitus, but many are running virtual meetings in different formats. Please feel free to contact me for more information about our club and its offerings.

It’s possible things are going to get darker for a time. We can light our way and our spirits for now with reading and continued connections to our fellow readers.

How our reading saved us and how we saved the joys of reading in 2020

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As I reflected just last year (it feels like a very strange eternity ago), early January is my usual time to contemplate my year past in reading and to absorb and appreciate the musings of fellow readers as they share their own reflections. I’m doing that again, of course, but admittedly with more pondering (some of it bewildered), some trepidation and even some weariness, even as there is much to celebrate. This particular exercise of looking back is through a lens uniquely fogged and scratched and battered, about which enough has been said. This exercise also tussles with the conundrum of how reading can comfort, can distract, can bolster our spirits – but even that very practice was affected by the perils of this trying year.

As did so many events and gatherings this past year, the silent book club groups in which I take part all moved online during the first wave of pandemic closures and lockdowns. Again and still, the attendees of our silent book club gatherings collectively helped each other through struggles with our reading – intermittent concentration, flagging attention span, lessened energy, emotions triggered and so on – and I chronicled some of that in our reports, which I was determined to keep up throughout.

(Glenn Sumi of Now Magazine also offered excellent insights into the science behind why it’s been so hard to read a book during this rollercoaster ride of a year. I was happy to commiserate with Glenn about this reading affliction as he was researching the article.)

Respecting local guidelines and restrictions, our silent book club still managed to meet for brief, physically distanced, but still heart lifting gatherings in the park … even as the weather grew colder again.

Silent book club in the park in October

Silent book club in the park in December

This year, I decided to take up the daunting but wonderful Sealey Challenge for reading yet more poetry. Started in 2017 by American poet and educator Nicole Sealey, and steered through social media with the hashtag #thesealeychallenge, the idea is to commit and do your best to read 31 works of poetry over the course of 31 days in August. Before this challenge, I always have had a poetry collection on the go, but reading at this pace turned it into a whole new, mind-expanding experience – at times overwhelming but always exhilarating. What a boost, in many, many ways … ironically, I can’t seem to express my gratitude very poetically.

I continued my commitment in 2020 to a daily devotion to at least one poem … and usually more, as friends on Twitter continued to generously share their poem choices and reflections via the #todayspoem hashtag. I’m now heading into my 10th uninterrupted year of poetry tweets.

Another practice that continues to heighten my weekly reading joy as I navigate through books is that of #sundaysentence, championed and curated by author David Abrams. As I’ve observed before, seeking a beautifully or uniqued crafted sentence each week sharpens my attention when I’m reading, and I love discovering new works through the #sundaysentence choices of other readers.

In years past when I’ve looked back on my reading, I’ve reminisced about where I was when I was reading this or that, or I’ve linked to longer notes and reviews here on this blog, on Goodreads, etc. I’m not going to do that this year. In all honesty, I wandered around online a lot this year, trying to keep or regain my readerly grounding. That might sound counter-intuitive, since where but online were we being significantly enraged, upset and distracted? But in fact, I found lots of conversations on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, as well as vital zoom gatherings and events (many authors and literary festivals did an inspiring and commendable job of moving readings online, for example) that kept me going as a reader.

Here are the books I read, reread and read aloud in 2020.

January, 2020

1. Grand Union by Zadie Smith
2. I’ll Take You There – Mavis Staples, the Staple Singers and the March Up Freedom’s Highway by Greg Kot (read aloud)
3. Eleanor Oliphant is completely fine by Gail Honeyman
4. The Topeka School by Ben Lerner
5. The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides
6. Field Notes for the Self by Randy Lundy

February, 2020

7. behind the scenes at the museum by Kate Atkinson
8. Dominoes at the Crossroads by Kaie Kellough
9. Our Dogs, Ourselves by Alexandra Horowitz (read aloud)

My 2020 reading - book journal and selected books

March, 2020

10. Flights by Olga Tokarczuk, translated by Jennifer Croft
11. Arias by Sharon Olds
12. Music For Tigers by Michelle Kadarusman
13. Actress by Anne Enright
14. The Only Story by Julian Barnes

April, 2020

15. My Antonia by Willa Cather (reread)
16. Unlock by Bei Dao, translated by Eliot Weinberger and Iona Man-Cheong
17. For It Is a Pleasure and a Surprise to Breathe: new and selected poems by Gary Barwin, edited by Alessandro Porco
18. Swamp Angel by Ethel Wilson (reread)
19. The Beginning of Spring by Penelope Fitzgerald (reread)

My 2020 reading - book journal and selected books

May, 2020

20. The Progress of Love by Alice Munro (reread)
21. The Baudelaire Fractal by Lisa Robertson

June, 2020

22. A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles
23. The Swan Suit by Katherine Fawcett
24. Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
25. Early Stages by John Gielgud (read aloud)
26. In Another Place, Not Here by Dionne Brand

July, 2020

27. Good Citizens Need Not Fear by Maria Reva
28. Motherhood by Sheila Heti
29. Circe by Madeline Miller
30. Nanaimo Girl by Prudence Emery
31. Mr Salary by Sally Rooney

My 2020 reading - book journal and selected books

August, 2020

start of #thesealeychallenge (reading 31 works of poetry in 31 days)

32. The Outer Wards by Sadiqa de Meijer
33. Quantum Typography by Gary Barwin (reread)
34. Time by Etel Adnan, translated by Sarah Riggs
35. Rat Jelly by Michael Ondaatje
36. Evidence by Andrea Thompson, illustrations by Catherine Tammaro
37. The Witch of the Inner Wood by M. Travis Lane, edited by Shane Neilson
38. How She Read by Chantal Gibson
39. Silverchest by Carl Phillips
40. Vice Versa by Elyse Friedman, illustrated by Shannon Moynagh

My 2020 reading - book journal and selected books

41. Dart by Alice Oswald
42. Murmurations by Annick MacAskill
43. England by Nia Davies (reread)
44. Grain by John Glenday (reread)
45. Forge by Jan Zwicky
46. On the Menu by Jacqueline Valencia, illustrated by Jennifer Chin
47. The Mobius Strip Club of Grief by Bianca Stone (reread)
48. Crow by Amy Spurway
49. Cloud Physics by Karen Enns
50. Fields of Light and Stone by Angeline Schellenberg
51. Stranger by Nyla Matuk
52. Ornament by Anna Lena Phillips Bell

My 2020 reading - book journal and selected books

53. Everyone at This Party by Tanja Bartel
54. The Dzygraphxst by Canisia Lubrin
55. Juliet (I) by Sarah Certa
56. What We Carry by Susan Glickman
57. Belated Bris of the Brainsick by Lucas Crawford
58. behindlings by Nicola Barker
59. I Am on a River and Cannot Answer by Amy Miller
60. Riven by Catherine Owen
61. Magnetic Equator by Kaie Kellough
62. Short Talks by Anne Carson (reread)
63. Body Count by Kyla Jamieson
64. go-go dancing for Elvis by Leslie Greentree (reread)

end of #thesealeychallenge (reading 31 works of poetry in 31 days)

65. No Authority by Anne Enright

My 2020 reading - book journal and selected books

September, 2020

66. Plainsong by Kent Haruf
67. Antigonick (Sophokles) translated by Anne Carson, illustrated by Bianca Stone
68. Blaze Island by Catherine Bush
69. Modern Times by Cathy Sweeney

October, 2020

70. No Grave for This Place by Judy Quinn, translated by Donald Winkler
71. Dinosaurs on Other Planets by Danielle McLaughlin
72. Northern Light by Roy MacGregor (read aloud)
73. Started Early, Took My Dog by Kate Atkinson
74. Jack by Marilynne Robinson

My 2020 reading - book journal and selected books

November, 2020

75. Exciting Times by Naoise Dolan
76. the fool by Jessie Jones
77. Girl, Woman, Other by Bernardine Evaristo

December, 2020

78. Waiting for a Star to Fall by Kerry Clare
79. Intimations: Six Essays by Zadie Smith
80. The End of Me by John Gould
81. Sister Language by Christina Baillie and Martha Baillie
82. Lost Family – A Memoir by John Barton
83. Up Jumped the Devil – The Real Life of Robert Johnson by Bruce Conforth and Gayle Dean Wardlow (read aloud)
84. The Night Piece by Andre Alexis
85. How to Pronounce Knife by Souvankham Thammavongsa

My 2020 reading - book journal and selected books

86. The Gifts of Reading by Robert MacFarlane

My 2020 reading - book journal and selected books

In 2020, I read a total of 86 works, not only a giant leap from previous years and a new personal record … but rather astonishing, in light of, well, everything. That broke out as:

  • 37 works of fiction (novels and short story collections) – the exact same as my 2018 total
  • 39 poetry collections and
  • 10 works of non-fiction.

I reread 10 books, more than usual and another way that I got through some stretches where my reading mojo was decidedly fading. I read 5 works in translation, read one graphic work and read 46 works by Canadian authors. My husband and I read 5 books aloud to each other this year and have another one in progress as we greet the new year.

I also kept track again this year of the publication dates of the books I read. In 2020, the oldest book I read was published in 1918 (My Antonia by Willa Cather, which was a vital and comforting reread), and I also read nine books published between 1954 through the 1990s, further fulfilling my now yearly intention to read or reread some more older books. More than half of the books I read this year were published in 2019 or 2020.

So far in 2021, I’ve read or have in progress:

  • Rachel to the Rescue by Elinor Lipman
  • One Year at Ellsmere by Faith Erin Hicks
  • Dearly by Margaret Atwood
  • Gentlemen Prefer Blondes by Anita Loos
  • Shuggie Bain Douglas Stuart
  • Swivelmount by Ken Babstock
  • A Promised Land by Barack Obama (read aloud)

For yet another year, I’m looking back with quiet satisfaction (and with gratitude to the practices and people who helped and inspired) on my reading during an extraordinarily difficult year, and looking forward with quiet optimism to where my reading this new year will take me. I’m grateful to the writers, publishers, reviewers and fellow readers who have spurred on and broadened my reading. I’m thankful as always for the bounty of beautiful words that came to me via so many conduits, evoking such an array of ideas, trains of thought, memories and associations, providing so much off the page, too.

I’ll simply conclude …

It’s not how many you read that counts. It’s that you read that counts – and it counts so very much.

Booklovers gathering in the glow … of one last, cozy zoom campfire for the year

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Sometimes, gathering around a zoom screen can be just like gathering around a warm fire in good company. We managed one last pop-up meeting of our silent book club last night, and that’s exactly how it felt. As always, my tbr list expanded, as did my heart!

We’re all briskly ushering the year that was out the door, aren’t we? What I won’t usher out or sweep under the rug is that we all managed to forge new ways to connect through this year’s challenges. Our silent book club went from in-person meetings in a local book/record/coffee shop and a few gatherings in a nearby park to regular zoom meetings and some physically distanced gatherings in that same park – and it all remained vital and sustaining, if not more so. While in some ways our worlds grew dramatically smaller, books and book friends helped us to continue to explore and travel through it all. Our virtual meetings allowed us to fling open new doors, such that Toronto city limits now encompass Wales – imagine that!

Our past meeting / book reports chronicle not just our reading, but our reading challenges. Those challenges, of course, are just a reflection of the broader challenges we and our communities grappled with throughout the year. At the same time, I’m grateful and imagine many of my fellow booklovers are that our reading, our meetings and our connections were some respite from the frustrations and despair.

Book picks from Squizzey and Kath

Book picks from Vicki

Book picks from Rosanne

Even though we fit this meeting in a mere two weeks after our last one, many of our members got in solid and extensive reading, thanks to extra quiet time, thoughtful gifts and newly minted Jólabókaflóð traditions. So, we have yet another generous combined reading list to share. As always, the titles featured in each of our reports combine print and digital versions of books, along with audiobooks (which are indicated separately).

One of our members revealed that she found some of her recent reading from the NPR Book Concierge and she recommended checking it out.

Our silent book club chapter celebrated its third anniversary this past autumn. Our group co-founder Jo paid lovely tribute.

As always, our previous silent book club meeting reports (online and in-person incarnations) and book lists are here.

You can also check out links to articles, CBC Radio interviews and more here – some with San Francisco-based Silent Book Club founders Guinevere de La Mare and Laura Gluhanich, and some with us here in east end Toronto.

Learn more about silent book clubs via Guinevere and Laura’s Silent Book Club web site. You can find information on meetings happening around the world and close to where you live. Some clubs are currently on haitus, but many are running virtual meetings in different formats. Please feel free to contact me for more information about our club and its offerings.

It’s possible things are going to get darker for a time. We can light our way and our spirits for now with reading and continued connections to our fellow readers. One of my very thoughtful silent book club friends put this in the envelope with her holiday greetings …

The Gifts of Reading

… and I’m going to carefully pass it along, like a torch, to another friend in books. Let’s encourage each other to keep those candles and torches and campfires ablaze.

We owe it to the beauty of the words … and our steadfast silent book club friends

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Every silent book club meeting this singular year has been uniquely vital. The double-edged sword of so much of our lives moving online so swiftly is that we’ve been able to keep up all kinds of connections – work, personal, entertainment and more – while simultaneously being isolated and feeling disconnected. Maintaining those connections online has led to, not surprisingly, intermittent and at times utterly enervating fatigue. The activities that usually bring us comfort and relaxation – such as our beloved books and reading – were, ironically, often difficult to sustain, even though we in theory had much more of the time we often bemoaned we didn’t have for these very activities. But somehow, through it all, our silent book club zoom meetings (and occasional physically distanced meet-ups in our local park here in east end Toronto) were the unmissable, inspiring entries on our now strangely configured calendars. And somehow, the glow from our laptops and tablets and phones during these meetings was truly warming.

Our last silent book club meeting of this year (this year we all wish to put behind us …) was filled with heartening laughter and generosity and insights. We exchanged recommendations and reviews, as usual, and comisserated about overcoming this year’s particular reading challenges. One of our readers put it, most wonderfully, that she was determined to revisit reading that she had to set aside because it was too troubling during this year’s emotional rollercoaster ride, because “I owe it to the beauty of the words” to return. The beauty of the words and the steadfast presence of our friends has seen us through a lot and will continue to do so as we continue and get through the challenges still ahead.

To top off this very fine meeting (so fine that we might not be able to resist fitting in one more pop-up zoom meeting during the holidays …!), some of us hardy (foolhardy?) bookish souls assembled at our local park in east end Toronto for a brief, distanced sharing of books … and cookies, thanks to a thoughtful book club member. There was a chill in the air and snow on the ground, but hey … nothing has stymied this unstoppable silent book club this year!

Rosanne's stack of books

Sue W's stack of books

Vicki's stack of books

Silent book club members in the park

Silent book club members in the park

Sue R in the park

Jo in the park

Beth in the park

Anita in the park

Ruth in the park

Vicki in the park

Anita offering Jo cookies in the park

Enjoy another bountiful list of our recent reading. We know everyone is getting books this season, but if, say, you run out during the holidays, well, this list and ones from our past reports are here to help you … 🙂 The titles featured in each of our reports combine print and digital versions of books, along with audiobooks (which are indicated separately).

Our silent book club chapter recently celebrated its third anniversary. Our group co-founder Jo paid lovely tribute.

Our previous silent book club meeting reports (online and in-person incarnations) and book lists are here.

You can also check out links to articles, CBC Radio interviews and more here – some with San Francisco-based Silent Book Club founders Guinevere de La Mare and Laura Gluhanich, and some with us here in east end Toronto.

Learn more about silent book clubs via Guinevere and Laura’s Silent Book Club web site. You can find information on meetings happening around the world and close to where you live. Some clubs are currently on haitus, but many are running virtual meetings in different formats. Please feel free to contact me for more information about our club and its offerings.

A silent book club meeting with friends and neighbours, held at and in support of a local business exemplifies exactly the kinds of freedoms we are foregoing now to get through these unsettled and unsettling times … and is where we’re all going to want to be when we get through this. Read well where you are now, gather in the ways that are safe and make most sense, including virtually. Be well and let books buoy your spirits, make our ever changing and challenging circumstances more tolerable, and make the time pass swiftly. Read well and be well!

A Gentleman in Moscow, by Amor Towles

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I’m very pleased to welcome back again guest reviewer Mary Schulz. Mary is a treasured friend and neighbour, a silent book club stalwart and life force and a discerning reader who articulates beautifully how a book captures her interest (or doesn’t, as the case may be). She most recently reviewed Finding Meaning: the Sixth Stage of Grief, by David Kessler. She returns with thoughtful and beautiful observations about a beloved novel this time, one that happens to have captivated several readers in our silent book club. Before we enjoy her review, allow me to reprise Mary’s bio:

Mary Schulz, a Social Worker by background, has enjoyed a rich and rewarding career in virtually all areas of health care, focusing primarily on the care of older adults, including those living with dementia. Now that that period of her life has come to a satisfying close, she is figuring out what the next phase of life may bring. Happily, books play a huge part in this, as entertainment, escape, instruction and catalyst for reflection.

A Gentleman in Moscow, by Amor Towles

Perhaps I am old fashioned, but I think our world needs more characters who live their lives with grace and a philosophy of treating every person they meet – regardless of occupation, cultural background, net worth or social standing – with dignity and genuine curiousity. Of all the attributes one might ascribe to Count Alexander Ilyich Rostov in Amor Towles’ novel, A Gentleman in Moscow (2016), these are two of the most endearing.

For those of you who have not yet read this captivating novel, you are in for a treat. In 1922, Rostov is condemned to exile in an iconic Moscow hotel, The Metropol, as a consequence of having written a “subversive poem”.

Now I realize that being exiled to a luxurious “grande dame” of a hotel, complete with waiters, a renowned restaurant, top flight entertainment and well stocked bar may not sound like much of a hardship. But we soon realize that Count Rostov is relegated to a closet sized chamber (literally) and stepping outside the hotel’s doors even for the briefest breath of fresh air puts him at risk of being shot. We come to understand that freedom, even when realized in the most humble surroundings, is preferable to imprisonment in a palace.

The novel advances in part through story lines that cleverly bridge Rostov’s earlier life in the genteel company of his beloved sister and grandmother at their country estate with his current life in the Metropol. The reader is advised to pay close attention to Rostov’s seemingly innocuous musings and reminiscences as they tend to have relevance later on in the novel. Nothing is introduced in this story without a reason.

This book is, at its heart, a testament to the strength of the human spirit and of community. Despite bouts of understandable despair, Rostov’s warm and often unlikely relationships with individual hotel staff and key guests sustain him. And is this not a fundamental truth for most of us? Who among us has not come to realize, with fresh eyes, how interconnected we all are? Rostov’s genuine interest in others enables him to navigate and find meaning in a world replete with apparatchiks and artists, seamstresses and starlets – none of whom is any more instrumental to the plot than another. When a young girl comes into his life, Rostov’s bemused interactions with her highlight how a child is a creature as foreign to him as the prospect of enjoying dinner without a precisely paired glass of wine.

And just where, as a member of the cossetted Russian elite, did Rostov acquire his varied survival skills? It is here where so much of the magic and charm of this novel rests. We are reminded that the world functions most effectively when good manners, grace and kindness preside. For example, it is proven to us without any doubt that drawing up a dining table seating plan of potential allies, lovers and foes requires at least as deft a hand, and has the potential for at least as deadly consequences as drafting a military plan of attack.

Towles has studied hard to understand not just the history but the very soul of Russia and her people. Key figures in Russian art, music and history such as Pushkin, Tolstoy and Chekhov are brought into conversations as though they were characters being invited to pull up a chair. One notes with interest how similar Count Alexander Ilyich Rostov’s name is to that of Leo Tolstoy’s character in War and Peace, Count Nikolai Ilyich Rostov. A coincidence? I think not. There are no coincidences in this finely crafted tale.

Now if all of this sounds quite heavy and ponderous, take heart. One of Rostov’s most charming qualities is his ability not only to laugh at himself, his country and fellow countrymen (within reason, of course) but also to note the absurdity of so many events that transpire around him. He is a witty character indeed!

This novel has it all – a tableau of diverse characters whom we come to care about deeply, historical people and events as signposts for daily life, life and death struggles, humour and pathos.

And it is Count Rostov who challenges us to reflect on how we would fare if put in a similar situation. Would we be as determined, disciplined, accepting, gracious and yet driven to orchestrate our best possible life? This is a quietly hopeful novel with much to teach us about the power and grace of the human spirit.

Finding Meaning: the Sixth Stage of Grief, by David Kessler

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I’m beyond thrilled to welcome a new guest reviewer to this blog. Mary is a treasured friend and neighbour, a silent book club stalwart and life force and a discerning reader who articulates beautifully how a book captures her interest (or doesn’t, as the case may be). Before we enjoy her moving review of a book that truly inspired her, here is her bio:

Mary Schulz, a Social Worker by background, has enjoyed a rich and rewarding career in virtually all areas of health care, focusing primarily on the care of older adults, including those living with dementia. Now that that period of her life has come to a satisfying close, she is figuring out what the next phase of life may bring. Happily, books play a huge part in this, as entertainment, escape, instruction and catalyst for reflection.

Click here to learn more about Finding Meaning: the Sixth Stage of Grief, by David KesslerOne cannot get to a certain stage in life without experiencing the death of some of those closest to us. If we are lucky, that experience is not “out of order”, a term I have learned refers to deaths that happen earlier than expected. One also hopes that the experience will be delayed for as long as possible. In my case, the recent deaths of three of my dearest family members were neither out of order nor premature. Does that being comfort? Absolutely. How much? Hmmmm … not so sure. But that said, books written by grief therapists and personal accounts of loss and bereavement all provide ingredients for a new kind of recipe – a “how to” of sorts- everything from realizing you are not the only person who believes you can still hear his key turning in the lock nor are you unique in suddenly marvelling at the sight of people who seem so HAPPY.

I have read many of these books about grief and grieving in the hopes they will shed a light that will enable me to place my feet on the path ahead, even if only for a few measures. Some have spoken to me like a wise friend, testament to this being the glow of yellow highlights throughout their passages (books like Option B by Sheryl Sandberg). Of course some have been quite dreadful. (Spoiler alert. Flip to the back of the book. If the widow/widower ends up remarried just in time to wrap up the book, give it a pass). Surely one of the best is David Kessler’s Finding Meaning: the Sixth Stage of Grief (2019).

David started out in his career as a grief therapist collaborating with Dr Elizabeth Kübler Ross, famous for outlining five stages of death and dying that were modified to help understand stages of grieving, as well. Not to put too fine a point on this achievement, this work changed the way we talk and think about these orphan subjects that are so often the victims of silence, awkward clichés and shame.

The book, Finding Meaning builds on the work of Dr Ross and makes the case that there is a sixth stage to coming to terms with loss and grief, namely that it is in making meaning of a person’s life and death that one is able to build a different life for oneself. Make no mistake; this is not about “moving on”, getting over the loss or forgetting the person. Quite the opposite. As David says, “the funeral ritual is important in witnessing grief because we will grieve alone for the rest of our lives” (page 45). Sound daunting? Yes. But that is the nature of grief. It is daunting. But one learns that grief is love – an extension of love. As surely as love is about skipping down the street, grief is also part of the continuum of love that includes holding hands in the sun during another session of chemotherapy. And because we will hold that love – and therefore grieve – all our lives, making meaning of that love will lessen the suffering and let in some light.

Reading this book is not always easy and it is absolutely do-able to skip specific chapters that deal with the unique losses associated with death by suicide or the death of a child, whether miscarried or in infancy. Most of the content is highly applicable to all types of loss. Strategies for making sense of life after loss are regularly illuminated by helpful case examples, including the author’s own experiences with death and loss.

The book challenges us to think about what possible good can come from loss. This is indeed a challenge and not one most people can even contemplate when their hearts rest in a million pieces. But as the gaping hole starts to be surrounded by some pleasant distractions – the contented fatigue that comes after a long walk, the loving lick from a beloved pet, a laugh with a dear friend – one can start to think about how this loss – which cannot be undone- can bring some good. Perhaps you become a more empathic person. Perhaps you make a point of reaching out right away when you hear of someone else going through a loss. Perhaps you get involved in a community cause. Whatever. The point is that loss and death happen. And when they happen to you, you have choices about how you make meaning of that loss – or not.

Of course not all relationships are loving. The book spends some time talking about finding meaning when there is regret about never having another chance to “make things right” in the relationship. This, too, is reality for many people and the importance of finding meaning in these relationships is no less urgent. At its heart, it seems to be about coming to some peace about what we bring to these relationships and how we tried to make them as good as they could be. And where that didn’t happen? Trying to go forward in life with some new found wisdom and commitment to not repeat the same behaviour in another relationship.

For those of us who have been blessed beyond any reason with immeasurable love in all forms, we accept this gift knowing that the only way to avoid loss is to avoid love. And that is not a life many of us would willingly choose. So David spends a lot of the book debunking myths such as “is there a loss worse than any other?” (Hint: the worse kind of loss is yours. How kind and validating is that?) Or “grief will grow smaller over time” (No such luck. We must grow bigger around the loss, bringing curiosity to the rest of our own life story so that the gaping hole of grief becomes smaller in relation to the other things in our life.) After all, since grief is love and love doesn’t die with the person, it stands to reason that grief does not ever end. And why does this not send us back under the covers? Because those of us who are mourning want to keep the person we have lost very, very close and never lose sight of the love.

Of all the books I have read on a way forward in the midst of soul aching loss and grief, Finding Meaning has been one of the most helpful. No pretense. No quick fixes. No happily ever after. Those of us who are grieving have a well tuned radar for that kind of deception. Instead, the book gives us permission to continue to live our lives infused with love and invites us to dig deeply to find new avenues for making meaning of the love we have been so fortunate to know.

Music For Tigers, by Michelle Kadarusman

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kadarusman-music-for-tigersYoung aspiring musician Louisa isn’t sure about the phrase “fair dinkum” when she visits from Canada and hears her Australian uncle use it in the early days of her visit with him at a camp in the wilds of Tasmania. The phrase signifies not only approval but a warm vote of confidence. It can be applied to many aspects of Governor General’s award nominated author Michelle Kadarusman’s third middle grade novel, Music For Tigers.

Kadarusman weaves beautifully themes and issues such as environmental fragility and protection, understanding and respecting neurodiversity differences, reverence for family and history and more into an engaging and at times suspenseful storyline. Louisa’s initial reluctance about being sent to the family’s remote settlement in Tasmania for the summer gives way to affection for her uncle and neighbours as she learns about their involvement in the preservation of a rare, presumed extinct species of marsupial. Louisa, Uncle Ruff, Mel, who runs a nearby Eco Lodge and her son Colin are all fully realized characters with frailties and charms. Louisa’s ancestors and offstage Canadian family members round out the story with additional insights and emotional underpinnings.

Michelle Kadarusman orchestrates it all with compassion and storytelling verve. Music For Tigers is uniquely good and genuine, truly “fair dinkum” …!

Thank you to Pajama Press and Michelle Kadarusman for providing a review copy of Music For Tigers.