Favourite female character.

I loved the characters, Sue and Maude, in Sarah Waters’ phenomenal novel Fingersmith.  The story is told, first from Sue’s point of view and then from Maude’s and it’s hard to imagine loving either of them given the nasty business they’re messed up in. But Waters’ Victorian-era novel is so layered and rich and exciting and the characters so fully-realized and compelling…it’s almost impossible not to empathize with and root for both girls.

I also love Sara Crewe from Frances Hodgson Burnett’s A Little Princes.

Of course the greatest power Sara possessed, and the one which gained her even more followers than her luxuries and the fact that she was ‘the show pupil’, the power that Lavinia and certain other girls were most envious of, and at the same time most fascinated by in spite of themselves, was her power of telling stories and making everything she talked about seem like a story, whether it was one or not.

It is Sara’s imagination which sustains her when hope is lost. I admired that quality so much when I was a child, and I still do.

Other female characters I admired: Jo from Little Woman; Francie from A Tree Grows in Brooklyn; Jane Eyre from Jane Eyre; Anne from Anne of Green Gables

The girls from my youth. Girls with spirit and full-hearts and hope.

Favourite male character

What can I say, I love the bad boys. The Heathcliffs and the Rochesters

Jesse from Kristin McCloy’s Velocity:

…he wants me and he is so sure of himself, all I have to do is respond, and I can’t help but respond, he calls everything I am up beneath his fingertips…Your mother wouldn’t like me, huh. I can tell he’s proud of this, that he likes to be considered dangerous. I almost tell him that my mother is dead, but then I don’t. I look at him wondering what my mother would think…surely she would be struck by those eyes. Any woman would. Even a dead woman.

but I also adored Henry from Audrey Niffenegger’s novel The Time Traveler’s Wife. He is so beautifully, tragically, romantic.

I hate to be where she is not, when she is not. And yet, I am always going, and she cannot follow.

I also admired Jack, the narrator of Frederick  Busch’s book Girls. Damaged, ironic, tough and sometimes so funny, Jack is a character who seemed very real to me.

I am not unintelligent. “You are not an unintelligent writer,” my professor wrote on my paper about Nathaniel Hawthorne…He ran into me at dusk one time, when I answered a call about a dead battery and found out it was him… You are not an unintelligent driver, I said.”

Your Favourite Writer

The writer I have most consistently admired over the years is Carolyn Slaughter. Of her eleven published works I have read seven: The Story of the Weasel, Magdalene, Dreams of the Kalahari, The Banquet, A Perfect Woman, The Innocents, and Before the Knife: Memories of an African Childhood. I have two more on my bookshelf (Dresden, Tennessee and A Black Englishman) waiting to be read.

I discovered The Banquet in a second-hand store in Hamilton, Ontario where I was living at the time.

For months Harold watches and admires Blossom before he finds the courage to approach her…

Between them develops a rapport at first exquisite and fragile, and then deepening to a consuming passion. Gradually Blossom realizes that this is forever and that Harold has chosen her for something quite extraordinary. Propelled by an obsession both painful and terrifying, Blossom and Harold are swept towards the affair’s horrifying climax.

Okay, yes, I was going through my obsessive love phase – what twenty-something hasn’t been there, done that? But the quality of Slaughter’s prose was just…so amazingly beautiful. Harold was such a sympathetic character and Blossom so lovely; their story was mesmerizing, right until that shocking ending.

After I read The Banquet I went looking for more of her work and came to discover that she wasn’t so easy to find. I found her novel The Story of the Weasel at The Strand in NYC and devoured it. The story of siblings who fall in love is tragic and perhaps one of the greatest love stories I have ever read. Over the years I’ve tracked down her other work and I have continued to be amazed at the genius of her prose, her understanding of human nature, her fearlessness.

She is the recipient of my one and only fan letter to a writer. I wrote it back in the 80s and she responded: two and a half hand-written pages which I cherish.

Favourite Classic Book

Ah, the classics. Last year our book club decided to have a year of the classics. We’ve been together for just over a decade and thought it would make an interesting experiment as we all, voracious readers though we are, have gaps in our reading, untouched classics that really should be part of our reading experience.We tweaked the criteria a little because some of the members thought that a year of ‘classics’ as we’d been defining it might be a little onerous. Thus, we decided that it had to be a ‘well-known book, published prior to 2000.’

I think my entire book club would agree that the year was a bit of a bust. Reading-wise, that is. I was hoping to revisit some of the classics I’d enjoyed when I was younger, Jane Eyre, perhaps or Wuthering Heights. (Our rule is that you aren’t allowed to choose a book you’ve already read, so I wouldn’t have been able to choose either one of those myself: I picked Daphne DuMaurier’s Rebecca.) Instead, we sort of had a mish-mash of books as diverse as Zorba the Greek and The Great Gatsby. It was a relief when we started again last month and went back to picking whatever in the hell we wanted.

Despite our rather lackluster year, I still think classics are important. Sure the writing can some times be laborious and the plots slow-moving, but those characters and stories have stood the test of time for a very good reason. As I’ve mentioned before, Jane Eyre  was my first childhood  adult book and I absolutely loved it. But I read it 35 years ago and haven’t read it since. Wuthering Heights is another book which I credit for kick-starting my love of angsty tales of doomed characters. As a teacher I frequently revisit classics like Lord of the Flies and To Kill a Mockingbird and I understand why these novels are still part of high school curricula. What Canadian female wouldn’t add Anne of Green Gables to her list of beloved classics? A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Anne Frank: Diary of a Young Girl. Little Women.

So, do I have to choose a favourite? Really? Okay – I choose A Little Princess. I’ve read it multiple times. It never fails to make me cry and fill my heart with joy. It’s magical. And Sara Crewe is a character who has stayed with me always. There is nothing about this book I don’t love.

A book you thought you wouldn’t like but ended up loving.

It used to be that I finished every single book I started. I figured I owed it to myself to slog through every book I purchased (and I am a total book-whore, so I own rather than borrow) even those books that just didn’t do it for me. Sometimes I was rewarded for my perseverance and sometimes I wasn’t. I don’t do it much anymore. If I really, really think I should read the book and I start and it’s not grabbing me – I put it aside. At some point, I hope I’ll get back to it. Mostly, though, I don’t. I just have too many books on my tbr shelf (not the virtual one, either, the actual shelves!) and so I don’t labour over books that don’t speak to me pretty quickly.

That said, I have read books that I didn’t initially think would be my cup of tea. Yann Martel’s Life of Pi would be one such book. Just too out there for me. Still, I read it. I enjoyed it. I’m not sure I understood it, but when I was done I felt pretty proud of myself. It was a book club selection a few years back and we had a great discussion about the book. Another book that would fall into this category would be Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro, a challenging book that ended up being so powerful and memorable I have often recommended it.

I am sure there have been others, but I am going to choose The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak as the book I didn’t think I would like but ended up loving. When it was chosen for my book club I was thrilled as it was on my tbr list, but when I started to read it I thought, oh dear, this just isn’t going to be my cup of tea at all. Since it was a book club pick, though,  I thought I would try to muscle my way through it; the discussion isn’t nearly as much fun if you haven’t read the book. About 50 pages in – wham! I fell madly in love with Zusak’s main character, Liesel, and the rest of the characters. Set in Nazi Germany, The Book Thief,  narrated by Death ( a conceit that actually never stops being effective) is Liesel’s story, but it is not hers alone. If you love books, if you love the notion that words have the power to set you free, if you abhor prejudice and hatred, if you have hope in your heart, The Book Thief might just be the best book you’ve never read. This book deserves the hype.

When I finished this book (after I wiped the tears away) I started making a list of all the people I wanted to read it: my children, my students, my friends…

I really, really love it.

Most overrated book.

Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. Hands down this is the most overrated book for me. I read the book back in 2008 and talked about it here.

Then (and now) I can’t fault Gilbert’s writing; she is an excellent wordsmith. The thing I couldn’t quite understand about the book was its call-to-arms. Woman seemed to suddenly, in droves, re-examine their lives like Gilbert’s own search for self was somehow attainable for the average Jane. I said at the time:

Lots of people wish they could stop their hectic, horrible, messy, complicated, screwed up lives in order to find their deeper purpose; in order to mend their broken hearts and psyches, in order examine their place in the world, their connection to the people with whom they share the planet…and their relationship with a higher power (God, in Gilbert’s case, although she says “I could just as easily  use the words Jehovah, Allah, Shiva, Brahma, Vishnu or Zeus.”) Not everyone has the means. Plus, although Gilbert’s journey was preceded by a divorce, she has no children. Trust me, I’d love four child-free months in Italy, too.

I don’t think  Gilbert was really suggesting that we all take a year off in search of balance. That’s hardly possible for the general population. Yet, somehow, Eat, Pray, Love was held up as this example of what it means to search for (and ultimately find) peace in life, in love, in your higher power. I’m no cynic, but come on. I have no doubt that Eat, Pray, Love made a ton of money and allowed Gilbert to continue her quest for self-awareness and as I said in my original review, I enjoyed Gilbert’s journey but the book’s ability to guide me to my own center was a bit of a bust.

A book that makes you sad.

Oh, this is totally easy! Lots of books have made me weep over the years – including the one I talked about yesterday, Frances Hodgson Burnett’s A Little Princess which I included in the happy category for different reasons.

Top of my list – and no great literary work – The Bridges of Madison County by Robert James Waller.  I say it’s not great literature because the writing isn’t amazing, but the story of one woman who has a chance to step away from her life to finally have great love, but doesn’t because she knows what she must give up in order to do so, just gutted me when I read it 15 years ago. I cried so hard, I couldn’t even see the pages and when I was done I immediately packed it up and shipped it off to my best friend.

I might have said that was the book that made me cry the hardest until I read The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. Once I stopped trying to figure out the time travel thing and settled into Henry and Clare’s story I was captivated. The writing is beautiful, but their story is magnificent. Again, though, bawled like a baby.

But is crying the same as being sad? I recently finished Melanie Wallace’s book The Housekeeper. Now that was a sad, sad story. I didn’t shed a single tear, but I felt Jamie’s pain like a fist in my throat and I thought about her for days afterwards.

Either way, a physical reaction or an internal one – I like the sad books. Or, at least, I like the books that touch me emotionally and I guess given the fact that it was harder to talk about a happy book (although my friend Karen suggested I move Carol Shields’ The Republic of Love up my tbr list as it will make me happy) I must have a thing for the sad stuff.

A book that makes you happy.

This question is actually hard for me. Most of the fiction I read tends to be pretty grim. Well, that’s not always true – but I read predominantly literary fiction and generally it’s not exactly uplifting. So, I stood in front of my book cases for a few minutes, trying to channel a book that I’ve read that actually made me happy…

Yeah. Maybe I need to start reading some happier material.

Sophie Kinsella’s Confessions of a Shopaholic made me laugh out loud. I had to literally put the book down and wipe the tears from my eyes. But did it make me happy? I dunno.

Maybe I’m looking at book happiness in the wrong way. Maybe I just need to choose a book that made me grateful to be a reader. I’m going to dip back into my childhood again and pick A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett. The story of Sara Crewe who is left by her father at Miss Minchin’s Select Seminary for Young Ladies while he returns to India to fight in the war in India is both heart-warming and heart-breaking. Sara is imaginative and kind. When her father is killed Sara’s  life changes dramatically  and she goes from being a special pupil at Miss Minchin’s to a scullery maid, forced to earn her keep.

Why does A Little Princess make me happy? It is one of those magical books that showed me a different world and made me care about a character deeply. Although Sara doesn’t get the happy ending she deserves, Sara’s story is beautifully told and A Little Princess is truly one of those childhood books that gave me hours of pleasure.