Amusing Little People

Phone rings in children's deparment. I answer.

Hello, I'm looking for my children.

Oh, okay. What do they look like?

Er, well it's a pro-d day so I bet they're the only kids there.

Uh, yes, do they have brown hair? Okay then, just a minute.

Children come over to phone, quite excited. There's a phone call for us?

Little boy picks up phone. HELLO MOM! In loud excited voice. Listens...

NOOOOOooooooooh! Nooooooooooh! I don't want to get my hair cut!!! NOOOOOoooooh! Tell Auntie Sally not so short!

Nooooooh! He hangs up the phone.

The little sister smiles sweetly and says, Thank You!

Today is the 20th anniversary of Chernobyl. I didn't even think of it until I was watching The Hour this evening. That seems like a terrible thing. It never ceases to amaze me how geography puts such a layer of indifference upon things. Not that I think everyone should mope around dwelling on all the terrible things in the world. And I don't know what anyone can do about anything...but I think we have a responsibility to be aware.

Not to get all philosophical here, but the TV is still on in the background and I just paused to catch the interview with Robert Munsch. He thinks society is a construct. He says, look at the Congo, things fall apart.... My child came home with blood running down her face, someone smacked her with a branch and called her a "nigger"...This is interesting. I've become much more optimistic about people and society lately. My upbringing (paranoid mom) taught me to trust in no one. Actually, only trust in God. Which I still do, but I don't actually view society with that much cynicism. Working with the public each day has actually improved my perception of people for the most part. So when I hear about truly awful things perpetuated by not just individuals but groups of people, I'm baffled and stricken with horror that retribution has not come their way. All those Russian politicians who let surrounding communities act as guinea pigs, not warning them, as people actually traveled closer to see the beautiful glow on the horizon, as families continued to swim and use water from contaminated waterways...Some areas will be closed to human habitation for 900 years.

What can I say. How can words express? They can't...

An astonishing collection of photographs by Robert Knoth, soon to be published can be found online at http://www.pixelpress.org/chernobyl/index.html I sat looking at these pictures with tears running down my face (one of them is posted above)...this picture had the most subtle power. The images of some of the children and babies are truly terrible I should warn you.

On the lighter side, Russia fascinates me, last week I the tail end of an excellent documentary called Moscow Freestyle (go online and watch an excerpt). English teachers from all over the world working in Russia...

P.S. my blogspot spell check does not recognize the word Chernobyl- that's America for you. And according to the newspaper, I can't spell so I wiki'd the word and apparently there is a Russian and a Ukrainian spelling (the other way is Chornobyl). I am assuming both are correct...

QUACK

Mallard Ducks are everywhere right now. They are dogging my path. I've had two encounters with them in one week. I don't live near a marshland. If one more Mallard Duck crosses my path I will consider it some sort of sign from God. I will include literary ducks in this - if anyone asks for Make Way for Ducklings or Duck in a Truck this week, I will absolutely consider the ramifications... One duck trotted out from behind my parked car and the other waddled it's way across my path while I was jogging. I believe they were two distinct characters unrelated in any way, though both were male and rather vocal....hmmm.

Choices (not groceries)

I went to the BCLA library conference this past Friday and Saturday....Lately, I've had a bad run when it comes to choices. I firmly believe that we all make choices in life and have to deal with the consequences. I have a friend that bemoans all the "bad luck" that has befallen her partner (crummy ex-wife, financial issues, etc.) But I think in most cases, it comes down to choices, admitting we all make the wrong ones on occasion, and moving on as best as possible.

Well, I chose to attend a session on podcasting and screencasting. You know it's not going so well when the presenter says, "Okay, on the count of three, I want everyone to say Ha Ha Ha!" We'll show those j-libs next door that we're having fun too!" (We weren't) We were slogging along looking at how one academic library created virtual tours of their library. Astonishing! Out of this world! What an idea...uh no, not exactly groundbreaking. And what's with the idea that no j-libs would be present in the room for a techie session? Are the two concepts mutually exclusive?
I was also thinking about choices today because I decided to use my precious day off volunteering (yes working for free) as a movie extra. A brilliant sun soaked day was spent in the dark depths of a nightclub pretending to dance without music and converse without speaking. At certain points in the day, it seemed like a poor choice, but all in all I am glad I tried it. A chance to try something new doesn't come along every day....maybe more on this tomorrow.

Second Half

To continue on with The Half Life...the story opens with this line..."Footsteps on the forest floor made a noise like paper crumpling in a child's fist...High above, the boughs of the fir trees shifted in the wind, revealing white fragments of twilight sky and the trunks made melancholy aisles into the gloom." I am a sucker for good beginnings and vivid nature ridden description. The suspense builds as a young man travels through the forest, convinced someone or something is following him, watching him, stalking him in the dense underbrush of an Oregon forest. It is the 1820's and his name fittingly is Cookie (he cooks for a group of trappers working for the Hudson's Bay Company). We follow two parallel narratives. The life and loves of Cookie in a world that is male from the West to the East, all the way from Oregon to China. The second narrative evolves around the discovery of two skeletons, hands entwined in a grave on a commune during the 1980's. Tina Plank a relatively well ajusted teenage girls (who most enjoys watching dust motes float across her line of vision while lying on her back across her bed) lives on this commune and forms a friendship with a lifecycle of it's own. This is a lovely poetic meandering read with equal measures of historical richness and mysterious intrigue. Words of caution...it stalls out a bit in the middle and I suggest skipping the movie script written by the teenage girls (I didn't read beyond the first few paragraphs, it goes on and on, I hate add-ons like this, school assignments and other "fake" kid/teen writing)...Other than that, I highly recommend it!

Half Finished Half Life

This is Jonathan Raymond, the author of The Half Life. I don't know him or anything, I just thought he looked nice, kind of like an archivist or something. Like someone I'd like to be friends with. It really helps that his book, which is his first novel, is excellent.

This is what Joy Press of the Village Voice said about this novel..."The Half-Life gazes upon those fierce but ephemeral attachments that evade the history books. Multiple plots elegantly veer across the sprawling terrain. Raymond weaves together divergent characters and time frames, even as he notes that our sense of historical continuity is largely an illusion."

I saw it a little differently, but I'll gather my thoughts later. I am running out the door to meet a friend for dessert! You know who you are! Rushing me along, calling to say your bus is going to get you there earlier than expected!! Geesh, usually it's the other way around with transit.

Gets my Back Up

For a fairly satisfying period piece pick up Morality Play by Barry Unsworth. Set in 14th century England, a twenty-three year old priest on the run joins a troupe of traveling players. They arrive in a small town and try something entirely new moving away from plays of morality as the reinact a local murder. The drama evolves each time the tale is told and brings the players and the town closer to the truth...It's a fascinating take on art imitating life and and interesting look at the hard life that sows the seeds of discontent during this era. It is an enjoyable read, though it lacks depth and passion in places, plodding along with a sense of forboding. I did find it really interesting that players had such an elaborate code of hand signals and gestures not only to symbolize emotion and elements of acting, but also to alert other players as to what will come next. They direct one another and the play evolves and grows in a truly democratic and organic manner. How true to life this is, I don't know. I almost always enjoy historical fiction, and even more so when I learn something new.

I haven't read anything else by this author - though according to the back of the book, Sacred Hunger, winner of the 1992 Booker was really something. I was only twelve then, so I don't know. I find it really annoying when an author sells a work based on previous works. I don't want to read 4 excerpts about another book-what about this one!? It's about as annoying as when I went to the drugstore to purchase a muscle relaxant for my painfully messed up back this evening- it was on the bottom shelf. The bottom. Next to the floor. Unbelievable. Thank goodness I had assistance. Right now I don't have to pick up anything that falls on the floor. I'm on vacation from picking things up until backie is all better.

Book Trailers and Blog Titles

I just watched a trailer for a book! Isn't that cool! On CBC's The Hour tonight they interviewed the Tim Flannery and played a teaser. Good idea - why don't we see trailers for books? I think I'm on a waitlist for this book, gotta double check. Heck, if Tony Blair has read it, I better pick it up asap!!!

In other news, the blog I am most enjoying this week is www.bookninja.com - check it out if you haven't already...I think I just really dig the name. Another good one is bookslut.com which is more literary. Again, wonderful name. As Paris would say, "lovit!"

I highly recommend the Book Arts Web if you are interested in bookbinding, calligraphy, printing, paper-making, etc...their links to exhibitions are extensive, particularly online sources. The above image came from Unseen Hands: Women Printers, Binders and Book Designers at Princeton University Library. Funny how that title has a little ring to it! Catchy! That's how you get a job at Princeton!

No Small Thing

This is j-lit at it's best. 100% perspective. Author, Natale Ghent has jumped into the body of 12-year-old Nathanial, a strikingly honest character whose passion is heartwrenching. His sickening feeling of guilt, his hot tears and is tender kindness make the innocence of childhood just come flooding back...

"Sometimes, something as small as an ad in the daily newspaper can change your whole life. That's what happened to Cid, Queenie and me one summer. It was 1977, the year of broken things. Star Wars opened and broke the record at the Eastview theatre by running for thirteen weeks in a row. Queenie broke her collarbone. And Cheryl Hanson broke my heart."

Other less notable books I've read over the past two weeks:

Flower: A Novel by Irene N. Watts - chapters alternate between thirteen-year-old Kate in Halifax visiting her grandparents and getting to know a ghost, and the life of a British orphan sent to Canada during wartime. A little predictable? Magical, haunting, mysterious? No. Incredibly cheesy ending? Yes...even for a ten-year-old ....

Millions by Frank Cottrell Boyce - yes the screenplay turned novel. Absolutely no setting or descriptive elements of course. A few things made absolutely no sense due to a complete lack of character development and obsessive repetition of key character traits. Kind of like listening to radio drama...still a fun draw for kids who don't like to read, it's simple and has a few funny moments...

A Million Little Pieces by Jame Fry - yeah, yeah, yeah. Drugs are terrible. Addictions really suck. So many bodily fluids. I've never spent so much time reading about vomit. Never again. The recently popularized phrase " I don't know 'ow I'm gonna quit you" comes to mind. I tried quitting the book several times, it was really oppressing me. I kept coming back, and in the end I stayed up half the night just to get the darn thing over with and find out if he can beat the devil. The prose was extremely irritating - the endless use of capitalization was contrived. I had a Moment of Clarity as I walked towards the Clearing where Lily was waiting for me, type of thing....

One of my new favorite websites is www.wordspy.com

"This Web site is devoted to lexpionage, the sleuthing of new words and phrases. These aren't "stunt words" or "sniglets," but new terms that have appeared multiple times in newspapers, magazines, books, Web sites, and other recorded sources. "

I love it! Here are a few along with my observations about how a librarian like myself might put them into use...

office spouse n. A co-worker with whom one has a very close but nonromantic relationship. Also: workplace spouse.

As 90% of librarians are women, this would be difficult to apply as a heterosexual woman. I identify with the concept and have enjoyed this type of working relationship in other environments...hmmm....

continuous partial attention n. A state in which most of one's attention is on a primary task, but where one is also monitoring several background tasks just in case something more important or interesting comes up. Also: CPA.

Oh my gosh! This is a description of my job! As an auxiliary I spend most of my time on reference working on little projects but secretly waiting for a really interesting person to walk up to the desk and sweep me off my feet (NO, just kidding!)...but this is actually a good description of reference desk coverage. CPA sounds like a disorder though...

social jet lag n. Tiredness and disorientation caused by forcing one's body to sleep at unnatural times because of work commitments. Also: social jet-lag, social jetlag.

Yes, this sounds like post-exam week last term. At one point a kindly co-worker and friend said, "Go home, turn off your phone, unplug your computer and just sleep!!!"...recognizing how truly strung out I had become...at that point difficult reference questions made my left eyelid jerk (weird eh? that always happens when I'm tired, or when I lift things that are too heavy). I was hoping that this weekend, full of library school graduation events would be a grand opportunity for social jetlag, but alas, I was safely home by 10:30 pm each evening. I'm going to get a lot of flack for this, but sometimes it is hard to get social jetlag with fellow librarians...we need more parties...we need more wild parties....

Strange Reading

The most incredible book to my knowledge this year...

The Nutshell Studies of Unexplained Death - essay and photography by Corinne May Botz

Criminal investigator Frances Glessner Lee, founded Dep of Legal Medicine at Havard in 1936 and later became captain of New HampshirePolice. In the 1940's and 50's she created dollhouse crime scenes based on real cases to train new detectives. Her collection was named after the police saying, "Convict the guilty, clear the innocent, and find the truth in a nutshell."

Still used today, 18 dioramas on a scale of 1:12. This essay is the product of archival research , interviews with Lee's family and police colleagues... the author says, "I was entranced by the details: the porcelain dll witha broken arm in the attic, the grains of sugar on the kitchen floor, the fallen book with a flying witch on the cover. I was also riveted by the miniature corpses. Shot in bed, collapsed in the bathtub, hung in the attic, and stabbed in the closet: all were eternally frozen in miniature rooms that had become their tombes. Literary quotes accompany magnificently eery photographs from the interior of each dollhouse. The images are often up close, capturing one corner of a room and all the intricate detail that went into design. And beyond the small detail, the colours and interior design are wonderfully vintage and interesting in themselves.

Visit the e-portfolio of Corinne May Botz to see many of the photographs featured in the book...
http://www.bellwethergallery.com/artistsindex_01.cfm?fid=28

Everything I need...

If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need. ~Cicero

I spent some time at a gardening centre yesterday. It was a little like being at a library, but unfortunately, it was a little busier.

The staff were almost run off their feet. Their reference skills were extraordinary.

One woman started me off, then excused herself for five minutes while I browsed, helped two other customers, returned and guided me through several areas of the centre looking at vines, a trellis, pots, she hauled 6 bags of soil and manure onto a trolly for me. Most impressive was the way she constantly asked questions to elicit further information about what my needs were, adjusting them slightly as we went along... full sun, but actually shaded roots due to a balcony wall...lot's of space, want to grow up not out though, a bit windy, so need hardy plants, soil blowing away last summer, need more mushroom manure, have a pet so avoid poisonous nightshade varieties. It's complex.

Anyways, at the end of it all, I realized that the trellis probably wouldn't fit into my car. A elderly woman overheard as she was loading her SUV and asked where I was headed to (another neighbourhood entirely). I informed her, and she offered to drop it off for me. We started folding down seats and measuring the width of her vehicle. A complete stranger! What unbelievable kindness. But alas, it didn't really fit into her car, and I thanked her anyways. There is such a comradery among gardeners. When browsing the same area as other people, it wasn't unusual for a conversation to be struck up. Total strangers would frequently smile at me. What a wonderful place, I think I shall go there more often. It's too bad that the library isn't a bit more like the gardening centre.

Pay up!

I think the sign hanging over my head says "information,"

but in fact, it must say "school supplies"...

Maybe it's an alternate reality thing; the students actually see something different, like a mirage at the end of a long semester...

What I don't mind:

"Hi I was wondering if by any chance you have a ruler I could borrow?"

What I do mind:

"Hey, I need four pieces of paper. And also, I need to go to class, so can you grab my print job when it's done?"

(student leaves, print job is picked up by other student and I spend morning fretting about missing paper)

Most frequent question this week: "Do you sell ____?" (fill in with memory stick, floppy disks, CDs, whiteout, highlighters, silly string...)

There is NO cashregister at my desk. Do people try to buy things from you? What's the best thing you've been asked for?

Also, a side note, George just said...
Da Vinci Code sold 40 million copies in hardback, it just came out in paperback and this week it sold 500,000 copies. His comment- who's buying it, doesn't everyone have it? Are people buying a paperback copy as well - "Don't tell me your a Dan Brown collector, puuulllease!?"

Does he think they're real?

Middle-aged man approaches the reference desk...

Hi, I'm looking for books on dragons.

OK, Any particular type? Myth, folklore, picture books?

Uh, no. Information about dragons.

OK, So some sort of mythology.

No. I need to know their size, weight, physical description, where they live...?

Oh.

Anger in the Library

All sorts of emotions flood through the library, it's a public place after all. Last weekend a jittery "young man" (that makes me sound old when I'm not) with a black hoodie pulled up (yes, inside the library) approached the desk. He was interested in finding books on cargo ships. I knew it was going to be a different kind of experience by the lengthy pause that ensude after asking him how I could help. He just looked at me without smiling for several awkward (for me anyways) seconds (seemed like minutes).

As I expanded the search to freighters, transportation of goods, and something else that I can't recall at this point, he became increasingly agitated, swearing under his breath and moving from foot to foot, side to side staring intently at me. I found a few leads and headed out into the stacks with him. He paced ridiculously close, nearly stepping on my heels which is unusual because I'm a fast walker.

When I began scanning the shelf for the items in question I was distinctly uncomfortable with the lack of space between us. I did my usual dramatic sweep of the arm, and said "Let's see what we have here," hoping to move him aside. No luck.

I tried to engage him in conversation to distract him as I continually side-stepped. "Is this for school, or ?" And he cut me off declaring, "It's for my career!" I simply nodded and said "Oh, I see, well there are a couple of organizations you could try, some internet sites, and the central library downtown probably has the most extensive resources..." He stared at me and said, "I want to start here, ok?"

While I scanned the shelf he was hovering much too close and continually saying "fuck" in increasing volume. There were small children nearby. No one seemed to be taking notice at that point however. Anyways, this basically continued through out our search as we moved to several different areas of the library. He radiated tension and despite his frustration and anger made slightly inappropriate small talk and continued to invade my space.

My gut reaction was to finish up as quickly and smoothly as possible. I look back now at this point and wonder if I should have been more assertive. I know I was just hoping to avoid confrontation. If anyone else had appeared to take notice of his language, I would have said, "Please don't swear, there are actually children around here" ...but as it was I let it slide. If I was older and wiser I would have said, "Please give me a little space here."

As it is, I feel like a dismal failure in the assertiveness department. I'm assertive in many other areas of my life (as some of you know). I have been known to speak up at grocery stores, (I once said, "You are the worst cashier I have ever had" which I felt quite bad about later though it was fully justified), I have told pompous professors what I really thought, I have told parents that their children are bloody nightmares (in less offensive terms), I have stood up to an arrogant school principal, I cried my way into free veterinary treatment, I pushed a rude man away at a dance club and his drink went flying as he hit the deck (he must have stumbled, I'm not that strong) and the list goes on and on. I am also a big advocate of personal space. I don't know why, but I have a fairly large bubble for such a small person. Anyways what do you think about this? Where do you draw the line? How do you?

Tommy Boy

This story was written by Stewart Tiley, librarian at St. John's College, University of Cambridge, England. Great talent, I love reading his stories and he has been kind enough to let me post this one.

Poor Tommy

Poor Tommy, he lay dead in a ditch. It was me and the Cordish boys who pulled him out. He was so cold even the leeches had dropped off him, although they didn’t me. We had to climb through the briars to get to him. Still got the scars see. His neck were broke, but that didn’t stop him dribbling still. We laid him out amongst the mole hills and everything on him was torn.

So why’s he dead in a ditch? Well there’s a lark. ‘Where’s the ditch?’, you should be asking. Cos the ditch is off Beacon Batch Lane, as it goes over the brow where the gibbet was. Deadman’s Cross. And the dead they thrive round there. My granddaddy would tell me that, “They ghosties’ll draw you in, if you’re lonesome of a night in a lonely place”. Their spirits would get all stirred up in a place like that and make a boggart, out stalking hedges for the lost like the white owl stalks the vole. My granddaddy knew it. You couldn’t set your eyes upon the thing but you’d die cos it weren’t something for mortal man to see. He just caught a glimpse of it once he said, once when he was young, and coming from town late one night. Like nothing he’d seen or ever wanted to see again. Making a pleading, bleating noise which carried on the wind. He said he’d not been able to see without a shadow in his eyes for four year after.

But Tommy, he wouldn’t have known. You could have told him the story a hundred times and he still wouldn’t have known. He’d just dribble at you and smile cos you were talking to him, until you wanted to punch the story into his face. So when he gets a fancy to a nice young piece in one of the farms out that way, that’s the road he chooses to take. He wasn’t any harm to her I shouldn’t think, only out for looking. Offering help for her daddy so’s he could peek from the shed whenever she walked past. No hope of any union though, her father was a sound man, and Tommy weren’t exactly the handsome type a maid might risk anything for. We’d see him skulking off in the morning when we were out in the barn, and we’d warn him as he went. But we could see nothing was going in. It was all chaff in the wind that blew between his ears. Week went by and he’s still off each morn. Well, we’re thinking maybe being an empty vessel he don’t register. But then he don’t come back. And he don’t come back for three days after, and we figure it’s beholden on us to look out for him. So off we sets, and there he is. And we haul him out and we all know what’s what and there’s no need for questions asked. Who knows what he seen? It’s something he weren’t meant to see and something that knew he was seeing. Something dark in the darkness.

See the orchard there. That was the land his daddy left him. Just that little bit was all they had in the world. There was a shack there where they’d lived, his family, for many a-year. Tis ours now, of course, cos he had no-one left, and it was going begging. He’s buried out there too. Yes, he’s feeding the russets what your drink there is made from. Well may you look at the sediment queer. Unbaptized, see. Vicar weren’t keen on having him in the consecrated ground. Might make it go bad. But over there he’s all to the good.

Teen Fic Part II

The Lottery by Beth Goobie.

Shunned for an entire year by every student in the school. Why? Lottery winner. Well, actually, lottery victim, the bearer of bad tidings, the gopher for the school's notorious Shadow Council. This year, fifteen-year-old Sally Hanson. What makes her different? She's seen death first hand. She has her own demons to deal with. This is nothing.

I thought this book would be fluffy. Girl triumphs over evil. It was a lot better than that. It's not a sophisticated or poetic read, but it's suspenseful and unique. The most fascinating aspect of the story for me was the author's ability to confront the norm. What is the norm? People run the gamut. At what point on the spectrum of mental health is a person unwell? We each see the world a different way, and we each cope in a different way. Sally copes in interesting ways, and I love the intimacy of her relationship with her brother. Their bond is amazing and something many authors would shy away from. I can garauntee mockery during a lit. circle setting. But it's interesting...

CLA YA Book Award nominees

It's tough writing annotations for books that you've never read. Furthermore it's difficult to write them in a way that will appeal to teens. Note to self: do not use "schoolish" book report terms such as "protagonist," "climax," "conveys," "realistic portrayal".... You get the idea.

It is also easy to get into the trap of glamorizing all the drama inherent in these works. You find yourself writing over and over things like, "and their lives will be forever changed by what she discovers," or "the consequences will be tragic and life altering" or "his actions will have disastrous consequences" or "her life is spinning out of control." But hey, isn't that what being a teen is all about? Bring on the angst!

Here are two titles that I've read this week that are shortlisted for the CLA YA Fiction Award this year:

Swimming in the Monsoon Sea by Shyam Selvadurai

Highly over-rated. Yes, it is dealing with a boy discovering his sexuality (he falls in love with his male cousin)...yes, the setting is fascinating (Sri Lanka, 1980, monsoon season)...yes, the literary element of mirroring Amrith's inner turmoil with the raging weather and the drama of the school production of Othello is clever (though contrived) ...and yes, it has a beautiful cover.

BUT...

I found the prose to be stilted, the suspense was weak as the plot meandered along, and Amrith is an unlikeable figure. He is often mean and small and in fact, he almost kills his female "sister" holding her struggle body beneath the water in sheer rage. We don't have to like the protagonist, but their actions should make sense...where did all this rage come from? It doesn't grow or develop in an authentic way. The character development was weak, with so many vague figures. And lastly, when the book closes, Amrith decides to keep the knowlege of his sexuality to himself for the time being. Okay, fine. But the inner workings of his mind and his thoughts on this issue are cloudy and uninteresting. He spends a few hours huddled in a beach shack thinking about this self revelation and that's it. Life goes on? Hmmm.

Okay, part II later today...