Category: Laura Tobias

My Reading Wish List

                                           

Usually at this time of year I recommend book picks for the readers on your holiday gift giving list. This year, instead of trying to guess the tastes of your lucky recipients, I thought I’d tell you what I’d love to find wrapped and under my tree. Below are some fiction picks I’d be thrilled to receive.

A Way to Be Happy by Caroline Adderson.  A Globe 100 Best Book of 2024 and longlisted for the 2024 Giller Prize, Adderson’s short story collection features disparate but vividly drawn characters who, in the face of inevitable challenges, must come to some sort of acceptance as they consider what it means to be happy. Short story collections are easy to dip into when time or attention spans are short, but the short story, as a literary form, is complex and surprisingly hard to write, and this latest offering from BC author Adderson is billed as touching, funny and thought-provoking.

The Leap Year Gene of Kit McKinley by Shelley Wood, another BC author. This novel, which is getting lots of buzz, traces the life of Kit McKinley who is born on leap year during WW1 and grows one year older every four years. Unnaturally slow to age, Kit and her family must keep moving to protect her secret from insatiable newshounds, Nazi scientists, doctors, and pharmaceutical companies. Billed as a race through the past century’s burgeoning understanding of genetics, eugenics, and what constitutes ‘normal,’ the novel also explores the tensions, love and sense of duty that can bind families together or split them apart.

The Women by Kristin Hannah. While this novel deals with war, a subject I go out of my way to avoid, I loved Hannah’s novel The Nightingale (set during World War 11) so much, that I’m willing to try another war novel of hers. This time, Hannah takes us back to the mid-sixties, shortly after JFK was shot in Texas, when men are being sent to Vietnam. The story focuses on nurse Frances “Frankie” McGrath, who longs for a place on her father’s “Hero’s Wall” and volunteers for service in Vietnam.  Hannah says she was inspired to write the novel because of the number of female veterans who told her that their service and sacrifice had been ignored because ‘there were no women in ‘Nam.’  Her research proved the latter was absolutely not true.

Death at the Sign of the Rook by Kate Atkinson. I love a good mystery (it takes me back to those days reading Nancy Drew) and the latest Kate Atkinson (book six in the Jackson Brodie series) has all the elements: a diverse group of people come together for a lavish murder mystery weekend at Rook Hall, one of England’s finest stately homes. Throw in a snowstorm, a corpse and an art theft to solve, and you have the makings of another great Atkinson tale.

By Any Other Name by Jodi Picoult is a dual timeline novel. In one timeline, set in 1581, Picoult tells the story of Emilia Bassano who is the true author of Willliam’s Shakespeare’s plays, while the modern day second timeline features playwright Melina Green, who is an ancestor of Emilia and is having trouble getting her plays produced . . . until she submits one under a different name. Meticulously researched with detailed endnotes to support her theme, Picoult apparently provides compelling evidence and thought-provoking ideas on Shakespeare’s true authorship, while also exploring how two women who lived five centuries apart are forced to write under male pseudonyms in order to be taken seriously and make their voices heard. It may not be a light read but it sounds like a worthwhile one.

The Love Elixir of Augusta Stern by Lynda Cohen Loigman.  About to turn eighty, newly retired (and not by choice!) pharmacist Augusta Stern is adrift. When she relocates to an active senior community in Florida, she unexpectedly bumps into Irving Rivkin, the delivery boy from her father’s pharmacy, and the man who broke her heart sixty years earlier.  Also a dual timeline novel, this story switches between 1920s Brooklyn – the Prohibition era, the gangs, the importance of pharmacists and the role of a traditional pharmacy, and the challenges young Augusta faces in choosing her career – and 1987 Florida where Augusta faces a challenge of a different kind: avoiding Irving Rivkin at all costs. This ode to second chances has been touted by multiple readers as being sweet, funny and uplifting . . . and I think we can all use a bit of uplift these days.

I’ll be back next week with some non-fiction picks I’d love to receive this holiday season. Stop by and tell me what’s on your reading wish list.

What We Conceal

                                                           

After a few months of being happily distracted and out of my routine, I’m back at my desk enjoying the pleasures of writing, reading, and tending to simple tasks.  It’s the old Zen proverb in action: ‘Before enlightenment, chop wood and carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood and carry water.’

Cue enlightenment. Last weekend I took a writing workshop from Becca Puglisi (for any writers reading this, do yourself a favor and google books by Becca Puglisi and her writing partner, Angela Ackerman; one of my favorites is The Emotional Wound Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide to Psychological Trauma).

Last weekend’s workshop was on hidden emotions and subtext. Puglisi showed us how to convey, through dialogue, what our characters are hiding and not saying. We all hide our emotions at times, Puglisi maintained. And we all lie at times too, she added.

Frankly, this didn’t sit well with me. Wouldn’t life be easier if we shared honestly and openly, but with respect? It might not shape tension in a novel, but when it comes to life, I value transparency. I connect it with integrity, something that’s also important to me.

I thought about our recent month in Japan. Instead of showing their real feelings, Japanese people usually use tatemae in public. Tatemae (建前) literally means ‘built in front.’ It refers to the facade people put in front of others to please them or avoid confrontation, and it often contradicts their true feelings. We were warned about this very thing from someone who had lived in Japan for several years. “Be careful asking for directions,” they said, “because even if someone doesn’t have an answer, they may use tatemae and point you in the wrong direction.”   And that’s exactly what happened multiple times. We would carefully follow the directions we were given only to become hopelessly lost and taken further afield from our destination. It would have been much easier for us if people had simply said ‘I don’t know.’  However, it wouldn’t have been easier for them because there’s a high cultural value on saving face in Japan.

Still, that’s Japan I told myself. It’s different in North America.

Or is it?

Puglisi, who lives in Florida, used the example of a single mother who holds differing political views from her coworkers and refrains from sharing them for fear of repercussions like losing her job and being unable to feed her kids. Or a man who lies outright to his sister about his political affiliations because if he shared honestly, he wouldn’t be allowed at his dying mother’s bedside.

Those are extreme cases. That’s not the norm, I told myself. Yet the same political divide is happening in Canada. The same issues are cropping up here.

“We all lie at times,” Puglisi repeated. “We all hide our emotions, mask judgements, water down opinions, hold back information, redirect and control conversations. Those are all forms of lying.”

Framed that way, I was better able to relate to the point Puglisi was making.

For instance, my daughter recently took my five-year-old grandson for his shot. She knew it would hurt; she expected him to scream (and scream he did) but she masked her emotions because her getting upset would only add to his distress. In another instance, when pressed by one family member about the romantic inclinations of another family member, I was anything but transparent. I deliberately withheld information that wasn’t mine to give, redirecting the conversation to something more mundane.

A lack of transparency, concealing things, is not only an option at times, sometimes it is the best option. Unless, of course, you’re lost in the middle of Tokyo and desperately need help finding your way. Then I’m all for transparency. Or calling a cab.

Happy Thanksgiving

                                               

It’s the Canadian Thanksgiving weekend, a natural time to reflect on and give thanks for the harvest and the many blessings in our lives. Things are a little different for us this year as we’re currently traveling through Japan. We’re incredibly grateful for the opportunity to travel and we’re particularly thankful to be experiencing the richness of the Japanese culture. As we celebrate the bounty of this season, I leave you with a few of my favorite Japanese proverbs.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

My September Reads

Though the kids are back to school, the leaves are ever so slowly starting to fade and there’s a crispness to the morning air, I am still in summer mode. I’m loving our garden dahlias, sunny afternoons spent writing on the patio, and sneaking away for the occasional picnic dinner on the beach. These warm days won’t last; I know that. Maybe that’s what makes them feel so special.  And is always the case for me, a good book makes any day better. Here’s what I’m reading this month.

Love, Japan by Sawako Okochi and Aaron Israel

The Butterfly Box by Santa Montefiore

Rice, Noodle, Fish by Matt Goulding

Books read to date in 2024: 39

My August Reads

We’re past the midpoint of summer. While the days remain warm, nighttime temperatures are dropping, a reminder that we’re heading inexorably towards fall. In the garden, the raspberries are finished, the fig tree and cucumber vines are producing like mad and the tomatoes are ripening. As I write this, a batch of tomato confit bakes in the oven. If I’m not tending the harvest or noodling around with my latest manuscript, I’m in holiday mode entertaining family and friends. It’s a busy time and I don’t expect the pace to slow anytime soon. So, while these blog updates may be sporadic over the next month or even two, you can be sure I’m occupied and having a good time. And you can be guaranteed there’s a good book waiting for me at the end of a busy day. Here’s what I’m reading this month.

Becoming Duchess Goldblatt, A Memoir by Anonymous

A Real Somebody by Deryn Collier

Japan by Johnathan De Hart

Books read to date in 2024: 36

My June Reads

                             

Summer officially arrived last week, bringing with it more gorgeous flowers, a steady stream of visitors and a busier pace overall. I think that’ll be the theme of the next few months: beauty in the garden, wonderful times spent with friends and family, and lots of activity to keep me busy when they leave. And even though reading time is a bit harder to come by these days, I am still carving out time for it. Here’s what I’m reading this month.

Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata

Just One Thing by Michael Mosley

The Botanist’s Daughter by Kate Nunn

Books read to date in 2024: 32

Diaries Into Books

                                     

Ninety-five years ago today, on June 12th, 1929, Anne Frank was born.  Almost everyone is familiar with her book, The Diary of a Young Girl, which is usually referred to as The Diary of Anne Frank. Her intimate account of hiding from the Nazis was published after her death in 1947 through the efforts of her father, the only family member to survive the holocaust.

Diaries offer us glimpses into the past. They can provide us with unique, eye-witness accounts of major historical events, and they can give us insights into worlds or cultures we may not be familiar with or be able to visit. Though Anne Frank’s diary is one of the most famous diaries to be published, it’s not the only one. There are many others. Here are just a few to consider:

The Diary of Frida Kahlo by Frida Kahlo. A meticulous record of Kahlo’s thoughts, inspirations and artistic experiments, the diary provides a unique perspective on her position as a female artist in a predominantly male art world. It also shines a light on her identity as a Mexican woman, details her struggle with the expectations of society, and highlights her determination to challenge the boundaries of traditional art.

Captain Scott’s Last Expedition by Robert Falcon Scott. Scott’s diaries were originally published in 1913 and paint a harrowing account of his expedition to the South Pole in 1910-1912. The diary was discovered with Scott’s body and the final entries were written in his last days while he was hopelessly trapped in a tiny tent on the Great Ice Barrier. Considered to be as gripping and inspiring as any fiction.

The Diary of Samuel Pepys is considered one of the most important diaries in the English language. Pepys’ diary, which spans January 1660 to May 1669, offers a firsthand look into daily life in 17th century London. It also provides a detailed account of several critical historical events including the Great Fire of London, the bubonic plague, and the coronation of Charles 11.  

A Writer’s Diary by Virginia Woolf. Along with providing insights into her life and mind, Woolf’s diary transports readers to the early 20th century literary scene in England and offers up perspectives on literature, feminism and mental health. It also details her observations and encounters with other writers including T.S. Eliot and E.M. Forster.

The Diary of a Young Man by Charles Darwin. Darwin’s diary, which was later published as The Voyage of the Beagle, documents Darwin’s experiences and observations during his five years aboard the HMS Beagle, his hazardous travels off the beaten track in South America and his dramatic encounters with other cultures and ways of life. On his return, Darwin joined the world of natural history experts and declared his time on the Beagle to be the most important event of his life.

Conversations With Myself by Nelson Mandela is a moving collection of Mandela’s letters, diary entries and various writings encompassing his anti-apartheid struggles of the early 1960s as well as his twenty-seven years of imprisonment. This diary humanizes a heroic figure who fought hard for freedom and justice, and a man who considered his years in prison to be the most meaningful ones of his life.

Listening . . .

                                                            

It’s funny how the universe sends us messages . . . if we’re open to hearing them. Ironically, the messages I’ve been getting lately are about the importance of listening.

The first nudge came from our neighbor. He’s a sound producer by profession so his world is, as you’d expect, all about sound. Knowing we’re planning a trip to Japan, he told us about a bar in Tokyo where patrons are not only encouraged to listen, but they are basically barred from talking. In fact, talking at Bar Martha will get you turfed out. Music is king. Patrons cannot chat, surf on their phone, interact with staff in any way other than to point at their menu selection. The idea is to sit in the dimly lit space, watch the DJ pull vinyl from ceiling-high shelves containing over 6000 albums, and listen reverently to Nina Simone, Eric Clapton or whoever else is currently playing. To put this in perspective, Tokyo is home to nearly 14 million people. By all accounts, it is a city with a frenetic pace . . . one where technology rules supreme and stimulus – noise – is everywhere. Except, it seems, at Bar Martha where music replaces discordant chatter and our only job is to settle in and listen.

Listening also came to the fore the other day during a conversation with a writer friend. She’s struggling with her novel. Her first draft is finished but she has issues with the middle. There’s so much going on in the narrative, she told me, that the through line of the story is cloudy and the ending doesn’t have enough punch. So, she sought out feedback. Members of her critique group came up with a few suggestions, and beta readers offered different takes too. One reader suggested thread A be dropped . . . another loved thread A but argued that thread B needed to go. Several others ignored those threads entirely and suggested taking the story in a completely different direction. My friend was confused. What, she asked, did I think?

I was familiar with her story because we’d brainstormed elements of it at various times. That’s what writers do. And given a little thoughtful discussion, I could have offered an opinion. But in the end the decision would be up to her.  It was her story. There wasn’t a right way or a wrong way. There was only her way.

“What is true north telling you?” I asked her instead.

“I don’t know,” she replied.

True north is the wisdom of our heart. It’s our internal compass, one that guides us through life at our deepest level and keeps us on track. It helps us with big things, little things, and everything in the middle, including our creativity. The trouble is noise and chatter from well-meaning people can drown out our true north. And in my friend’s case, it had.   

I suggested she find her own version of Bar Martha and get quiet. I suspected if she tuned out the world and tuned into her story there was a good chance it would tell her exactly how it wanted to be told.

Because in the end, listening isn’t just good for hearing music. It’s also good for hearing the truth.

My May Reads

The consistently warm weather isn’t here quite yet, but my overwintered gerberas and geraniums are slowly migrating out of the greenhouse to take up their positions on the patio. Taking their place are flats of tomato, pepper, eggplant and melon seedlings. They got a late start because we were away for a week in April (primary seeding time) so I’m hoping they catch up. Speaking of catch up, that seems to be the theme in the garden lately, partly because of the weather but also because my back is dictating a slower pace. I’m okay with that; it means more time for a good book. And here’s what I’m reading this month.

The Four Winds by Kristin Hannah

Homecoming by Kate Morton

Ikaria by Diane Kochilas

Books read to date in 2024: 28

When Too Much . . .

. . . is . . . well . . . too much.

In writing, there’s such a thing as going too far, or overwriting. In her book Steering the Craft, esteemed author Ursula K. Le Guin says it’s important to “slow down and leave enough white space around the words and silence around the voice.” What you leave out in those pauses, she believes, is infinitely more important than what you leave in.  And yet, there’s a balance. Leave out too much and your reader won’t understand what’s going on. Cram in too many details, particularly in action scenes, and the pace falters. The rhythm, the speed, will be off.

Visual artists know this well. White space, whether that’s literal white space around an image or the grout that fills the gaps in a mosaic, is a key principle in design and applied arts. White space separates and highlights other elements. It allows the mind to rest and reflect, to absorb the message or the image. On the other hand, there are times when words or an artistic medium like paint are overused precisely because that’s the effect the creator is going for (the recent official portrait of King Charles 111 and his big red controversy comes to mind).

Overdoing has been on my mind a lot lately. The first draft of my current WIP is overwritten (as is my tendency in a first draft), the herb bed in the garden is overplanted (I love too many plants; what can I say?) and now my poor back is suffering because I’ve overdone it on a number of levels. My back warned me, but I kept pushing through and didn’t listen. I went too far.

Now, though, too much has been . . . too much.  I’ve been forced to slow down, to pay attention to my body . . . to rest and reflect and to relearn the lesson that life, just like art, also requires some balance. I think Ursula K. Le Guin would approve.