No rating for this book as I didn’t finish it. Zafar’s heart-wrenching story of domestic violence, sexual assault, and harassment – by the time I had read 100 pages she had been sexually assaulted at least five times and she was barely 18 – vastly exceeded my emotional bandwidth. Her book has a positive ending, I’m told; she managed to escape and publish her story, after all, but that wasn’t enough to carry me through and I wound up putting it down.
Tag: Canadian Author
Judith by Aritha van Herk
You have made a terrible mistake and you are going to fail. This is the refrain that runs though Judith’s head as she leaves her secretarial position, her boss-boyfriend, and her small apartment to return to her family’s pig-farming roots. It was her father’s wish that she take over with their pigs when he retired, but her parents wanted her to get some experience in the city first so she could be sure farming was what she really wanted. Parents of adult children the world over will be unsurprised to learn that when the time came she had lost interest in farming. The farm was sold to strangers. Van Herk melds past and present to great effect in the novel, abruptly flinging readers decades backward as Judith’s memories transport her to the blissful, cherished safety of her childhood or the crawling remorse of the decisions she wishes she made differently, but it does make tracking the timeline a little challenging. At some point Judith changes her mind about her chosen future and abandons her life in the city for a herd of female pigs and a small farm not far from her childhood home. As you may have guessed from the opening line, she carries a lot of self-doubt about this choice. About every choice. Judith has a few emotional issues to work through. Some of those issues need content warnings, like the numerous, sketch-tastic sexual encounters. Animal loving readers may also struggle with the nitty-gritty details of pig farming, including a detailed account of castration. Van Herk’s familiarity with farming practices and secretarial life are, with the creative timeline, what transports this book from an entertaining but forgettable read into one I hunted down in used book stores (it’s been out of print for a while now) so I can re-read it whenever I want.
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Truth Be Told by Beverley McLachlin
Truth Be Told transformed Beverley McLachlin from a virtual stranger, someone I was only familiar with in a vague way after reading Full Disclosure, her first foray into writing and a fictional courtroom drama she wrote after retiring from the Supreme Court of Canada – as its first female Chief – into one of my heroes and someone I would love to sit down and have coffee with. As a small town Alberta girl attending school in the 1950s, her teachers repeatedly informed her that, while she had excellent marks in Chemistry, Biology, English, French, and Social Studies, none of those skills were useful in the five occupations available to women. Of those five options – “six options, if you included getting married and becoming a housewife” (69) – not a one interested her. She fretted, saved, and signed up for a Bachelor of Arts at the University of Alberta. Struggled mightily, and ironically given her eventual, writing-heavy career, to craft coherent paragraphs on anything. Between work at The Gateway newspaper and her philosophy course, something clicks and her writing improved enough to land her a job the next year at The Edmonton Journal, where she deeply upset the managing editor when he returned from his holidays and discovered instead of the fluffy pieces on bake sales he was expecting she had written an article on the plight of the travelling erotic dancers in town for the summer fair (81). She did not come back for a second year. Somehow from these confused and underwhelming beginnings, with chance remarks, hard work, and some serendipity, she forged a place in history as a lawyer, first in British Columbia, arguing cases and teaching law students, and then in Ottawa on the Supreme Court, eventually being appointed to the position of Chief Justice. It’s an unlikely and incredible rise. Yet McLachlin remained humble, grateful and compassionate. Her years of service saw her debate such contentious issues as abortion rights, freedom of speech, gay marriage, sexual assault, assisted suicide, Quebec Sovereignty, and Indigenous rights. Of course she can’t go into depth on every case, but she gives the salient points of the most impactful cases and discusses her reasoning and her co-judges reasoning and the final decisions made. She, among others, is responsible for shaping the country we have today and I am grateful to have had a chance to learn about her.
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The Weed that Strings the Hangman’s Bag: Flavia de Luce #2 by Alan Bradley
Some people attract bodies like a fruit bowl attracts flies and Flavia de Luce is one of them. Not a week after his travelling puppet show breaks down in the little village of Bishop’s Lacey, head puppeteer and stage-master Rupert Porson lies dead on stage in the middle of the evening performance. Electrocuted. It’s got to be accidental, because who in this tiny town would want to electrocute the man responsible for the beloved-throughout-Britain Magic Kingdom television show? Of course small towns are rife with secrets, Bishop’s Lacey being no exception, and as Flavia ferrets out the truth from the lies she inches closer to a hidden history with roots more ominous than she knows.
Said roots include such ominous content as mentions of spousal abuse, murders, and the off-screen, pre-narrative death of a child which again features heavily in the plot, so readers may wish to exercise caution there. If you’re looking for a chilling mystery to cool you off during this exceptionally hot summer then The Weed that Strings the Hangman’s Bag might be just the thing for some goosebumps.
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Hench by Natalie Zina Walschots
Unlike my usual reviews this is going to be one long spoiler. Part of why I enjoyed this book so much was that no one had spoiled it for me, so if you’re thinking about reading it you may wish to stop after the first paragraph.
Do you bomb a village to stop a terrorist? Scene: outdoors, village. Children playing, mothers hanging laundry or weeding the vegetable garden. Zoom to a house in the center of town: a little run down, yard is messy, grass is getting long. Cut to inside: lit by natural light, dribs and drabs of daily life scattered on counters and tables. Main floor is empty, things are dusty, some unwashed-but-not-moldy dishes are getting dripped on in the sink. Cut to the top of the dark basement stairwell. Cut to a man working alone in the basement: he’s making a bomb. Newspaper clippings on the wall indicate he is going to bomb a nearby city. Do you bomb his village – killing or injuring many of the inhabitants – to stop him? Just his house? How does your answer change if the target is a bank instead of a city? If one of the villagers is at his house doing his laundry and she is permanently disabled when he is “neutralized,” is that justified? Say she also loses her house and livelihood in the attack, is it still justified? If there was a solution available that would dramatically minimize other deaths, injuries and property damage and you still chose to bomb the village are you still the hero? What happens when the superheroes create new villains while trying to stop other villains? Whose responsibility are the villains now? When your solution creates more of the same problem it is claiming to protect against at what point do you need to take responsibility for the results?
Your answer to these questions will largely determine how you feel about Natalie Zina Walschots’ Hench. Like the laundress above, Anna Tromedlov has a desk job doing data entry (found through a temp agency which exists specifically to employ various hench-people for villains; the society in Hench is built to capitalize – literally – on the existence of both heroes and villains) for a two-bit villain named Electric Eel. Her boss asks her to tag along for a press conference as a “second pair of hands,” “nothing dangerous, I promise.” (20) Whatever you may think of the promises of villains, the bloodshed doesn’t truly kick off until the superheroes arrive to save the hostage, which they do. Eel escapes. Less fortunate are Eel’s employees. Combative and armed or unarmed and frozen in shock, it makes no difference, when the heroes are finished the floor is littered with dead, dying, and horribly injured people. Not all of them were hurt by other baddies; Anna, trying to avoid the henchman-wielded ray gun, stumbles into the path of the überhero Supercollider and when he absently moves her aside, barely noticing her, she ends up with a comminuted spiral fracture of the femur. Six months’ convalescence. The Eel’s HR department sends her a form letter and fruit basket regretting that they must terminate her position. She loses her job and apartment and gains a permanent limp. And starts doing math. Insurance math: the cost to society of killing or injuring people and damaging property, using actual calculations from the World Health Organization (73, footnote), but applied to superheroes rather than natural disasters. People killed, buildings demolished, businesses destroyed and lives derailed by the, “blithely ignorant wrecking machines that were all of the heroes, unaware of the human and material costs of their every stupid, impetuous move.” (96) Many of the heroes have price tags on par with an earthquake. The Injury Report eventually catches the attention of a true super-villain, Leviathan, who hires Anna on to start making heroes’ lives miserable and counteract the distorted information supplied by their personal PR departments. She’s very good at it. The praise from her boss, comradery with her peers, and vicious retribution from Supercollider combine to push her further along the scale from relative neutrality and blamelessness directly into official evil-doer territory, a move adding complexity to the whole narrative and nudging it out of stand-alone story and into the realm of origin story and series opener. Her adoration of her boss creates conflict for the reader as well; as the first super-person to value her safety and well-being Leviathan quickly wins Anna’s complete devotion even when he behaves as poorly and egotistically as Supercollider. In the end the heroes and villains are indistinguishable, but Anna is in much too deep to notice. The final battle is a Pyrrhic victory. When Leviathan, rather than taking time for his staff to regroup and heal, unveils an even more ambitious plan for vengeance, Anna doesn’t voice the complaints crowding her mouth. She does what he hired her to do: run the numbers.
Whether or not her numbers add up for you is the kind of question you can ponder for days, after finishing the book in less than one. Honestly Hench could have been the length of War and Peace and I wouldn’t have noticed anything after the first page, too busy reading to notice how many were left to flip. It’s crammed with character development and schadenfreude is ladled on top thickly enough that if it were a liquid the pages would be gooey and rippled. And of course there are content warnings.
Content warnings for fighting and violence with descriptive bloodshed, severe injuries and death, medical procedures both consensual and not, kidnapping, mentions of child endangerment, body horror, a couple incidents of kink-shaming and a teensy bit of sexual harassment. The novelty and delight of reading an entire book where none of the women are sexually assaulted is still thrilling me a full week after finishing the story. Even with the complicated morality and unanswered questions about justice and collateral damage, every sentence of this book felt perfect. I heard some rumours about a series. I hope they come true. I want to see what happens next, even if I don’t wind up agreeing with Anna’s decisions and morality.
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His Unexpected Muse: Berkeley Square #3 by Victoria Chatham
Alberta author! Canadian publisher!
Exactly the lighthearted, encouraging read I needed. Distressed by the behaviour of her mother at Lord and Lady Suffield’s party, Lady Olivia Darnley takes refuge in a quiet study where she can privately give in to her dismay. Unfortunately, said study is already being used as a party-hideout by Lord Peter Skellington, who has dozed off in front of the fire after a little too much brandy. Her tears awaken him, but they only have time to exchange a few words (and Peter’s drier handkerchief) before Olivia’s mother swans in and berates her daughter for not just getting married already. Much to Peter’s surprise, cringingly shy and stuttering Olivia refuses to capitulate to her mother’s demands and mom flounces out of the study alone. It might seem like Olivia has won, but her mother has another trick up her sleeve: abandonment. Back at home and unbeknownst to the Olivia crying herself to sleep in her room, Lady Darnley dismisses the staff, packs up her clothes and jewels, and rides off in a carriage with her much younger lover, an Count who has promised to worship her in the lap of luxury on his Italian estate. Olivia awakes in a house emptied of food and servants. Without even a few pounds to hire a carriage to take her to the bank so she can ask if she has any money – not that she can go to the bank without a chaperone – things are dire. Enter Lady Skellington. Peter’s mother. She immediately takes Olivia into her home, giving her a safe place to stay while Olivia gets her affairs in order and attempts to track down her mother. Peter, though kindhearted enough that he has no wish to see Olivia destitute, is very uncomfortable around people in general and immediately takes lodgings at his club while Olivia is staying at his house. If he has to come back constantly for new paper/quill pens because he doesn’t like what his club provides, that is definitely just a coincidence. He’s not attracted to Olivia. Nope nope nope. The story is sweet and 100% chaste, for romance readers uncomfortable with sex. Towards the end I realized I was putting the book down every few chapters. Not because I was bored with it, but because I wanted to make the story last longer. Although this book is the third in a series it reads perfectly well as a standalone story, so if you’re looking for something easy to cheer you up His Unexpected Muse might be just the thing.
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The Stone Carvers by Jane Urquhart
The Stone Carvers by Jane Urquhart
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
A magnificent venture leaping from World War I era Ontario and France to Bavaria in the 1880’s and back. Klara Becker has lived in the tiny town of Shoneval her entire life. The granddaughter of a master carver, her mother a talented tailor, Klara has perfected both skill sets. While women aren’t allowed to carve professionally, she has a steady business as a tailor in her small town and a slowly blossoming romance. When that relationship is cut short by the outbreak of World War I and followed some time later by the deaths of her father and grandfather, her only remaining family, she seems to reach the limits of her reserves. With her mother long dead and her only sibling Tilman missing since he walked off the farm as a young child, unable to resist his wanderlust, Klara boards herself up like an abandoned house. Sewing, farm work, and a single white bull she is inexplicably fond of encompass her entire existence. Oddly enough what breaks through the prison she’s locked herself in is news of construction of a war memorial in Vimy, France, specifically to honour the soldiers missing in action. Klara is determined to go to France and work on the memorial. It’s a beautiful story of grief and healing. Simple, yet vivid writing. Every word is polished and precisely set, and it comes as no surprise that Urquhart has written several books of poetry in addition to this and other novels. The Stone Carvers is an insightful snapshot of a fledgling nation and absolutely deserves to be on every Canadian’s required reading list.
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They Left Us Everything by Plum Johnson
They Left Us Everything: A Memoir by Plum Johnson
My rating: 2 of 5 stars
While I could see this book being meaningful for people who are grappling with the mortality of their aging parents – and how best to care for them – what I got out of it was the generation gap. Canyon, really. Johnson describes in touching detail caring for both of her parents at the end of their lives, a twenty year stretch by the time her mother passes, and then spending months cataloging and sorting 50 years of possessions in the 23 room mansion her parents bought for a song in the 1950s. I admire how honest and open she was about her grief and her complicated relationship with her parents, but much of the enjoyment I would have gotten out of this book was overshadowed by envy. Her parents are able to raise four children on one income. They take annual family vacations to the States, staying at a huge family farm/plantation in Virginia. With servants. They hire not one, but two full time caregivers for YEARS before they have to remortgage said house, which did I mention is a 23 room mansion sitting on the shores of Lake Ontario? Purchased with one person’s one year salary? Johnson is able to take off a year and a half to shovel through the piles of literal garbage her parents stockpiled for half a century, apparently without needing to rent out her apartment. When she and her brothers divide up the antique furniture, the massive solid wood dining room table goes to the sibling living in BC. Said table, like the house, is currently in Ontario. They have the money to pay movers to completely disassemble it and ship it across Canada. I can’t wrap my mind around that kind of wealth. Johnson can’t wrap her mind around not having it; interviewing antiques dealers for their rooms of “brown furniture” sparks conversations about how challenging these large and heavy pieces of solid wood furniture are to sell and how “everyone wants Ikea nowadays” as though it’s fashion and not income and space dictating everyone’s purchases. Johnson muses sadly to herself that no one appreciates quality anymore and hopes that in a generation or two people will value these kinds of things again. I’m not convinced values are the problem. And speaking further of values, Johnson’s memories of her parents’ marriage and child-rearing also really made me question what makes a good marriage and a good parent. By today’s standards, her parents were abusive. Both to each other and the kids. They argued constantly, but refused to divorce. Johnson values their commitment, but to me the relationship sounds hellish. They didn’t model good conflict resolution or a successful partnership to their children; three out of the four divorced. Is it enough when the only good thing you can say about your marriage is that it’s not over?
It probably doesn’t sound like it, but I did enjoy reading They Left Us Everything. Johnson’s writing is simple but evocative. Her descriptions of Lake Ontario are especially beautiful. And I could see this being a very meaningful, healing read for anyone with aging relatives they care for. But I personally spent more time questioning Johnson’s parents’ marriage and reeling over their familial privilege than I did dissecting my own relationship with my parents, or our inevitable mortality. So for me it missed the mark. I spent a lot of time ranting about it, and I’m nearly done being mad. At least it made an impact?
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Baby, It’s Cold Outside by Robert Bose, Sarah L Johnson, et al.
Baby, It’s Cold Outside by Robert Bose
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
For anyone who wants to deck their festive season with felony, the always eerie Coffin Hop Press has a short story collection of delinquency, debauchery, and all manner of vice. Think of it as the Twelve Days of Christmas, but with lawlessness instead of partridges. The set is book-ended with two linked stories by Sam Wiebe, set 18 years apart and narrated by the same character, providing a pleasant sense of completeness to the whole book. The other tales cover the ground from vengeance, drugs, and serial killers, to misdemeanors, cults, and of course a few classic noir private eye offerings. I’m sure you can guess from the list above that this little paperback gets a whole passel of content warnings: drugs and drug abuse, alcoholism, murder, rape, child abuse, elder abuse, homelessness, and domestic violence sprinkle its pages. Not a book for the faint of heart or stomach, but a decent collection of gruesome goodies to fill your stocking, if that’s your kind of thing.
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The Devil Reversed: Bellandria Tarot #1 by Alex McGilvery
The Devil Reversed by Alex McGilvery
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Canadian author! Buy this book!
Rounding out my collection of books from Canadian author Alex McGilvery is The Devil Reversed, the first in the Bellandria Tarot series which follows Marriette, the only child of an abusive, controlling noble, and Zeb, a demon trapped in a dead man’s body who is determined that he will serve no one. Desperate to escape her father, Marriette accepts an arranged marriage to a widower she has never met and discovers a kind, gentle partner. Zeb defies the mage who enslaved him and escapes, hacking a path of carnage through the kingdom in his desperation to throw off the geas laid upon him. The nameless mage plans to use Zeb to destroy the kingdom. Marriette wants to find a way to heal the wounds her father left her with. There’s a strong religious motif running throughout the book, with a recognizably Christian church, monasteries, convents, and frequent conversations with a silent god. While the church and clergy are overall represented positively, if Christianity is a painful topic for you this may be a story to skip as religious elements become increasingly prevalent towards the end of the book. I am also including content warnings for abuse, murder, and rape. Warnings aside, I enjoyed The Devil Reversed as much as I’ve enjoyed every single other book of McGilvery’s that I have read, and I am looking forwards to finishing the series.
Tree Slices 