Lilian Nattel's Blog, page 26

Late Bloomers: Jose Saramago

I've always thought of Jose Saramago as a prolific, accomplished and successful literary writer, someone elevated, and not even enviable because he deserved it all. So I was astonished and heartened to discover that Saramago is a late bloomer. Sure, his first book came out when he was young but then there was a 20 year gap until the next.

Furthermore, Saramago's first few novels were unremarkable and unremarked. He didn't arrive at the style he's known for until his late 50′s, nor did he achieve recognition until 1982 when he was 60. Saramago didn't have a privileged childhood, either. His family were landless peasants who moved to the city and could only afford a limited education for their surviving son (his brother died at the age of 4), a technical school where he trained as a mechanic.

And yet, with all that, he came into his own, first as a journalist, later as a playwright and novelist. "Saramago" isn't a pseudonym or the surname of either of his parents, but a family nickname accidentally registered at his birth. Saramago is an herbaceous plant, in English called wild radish. A radish isn't like a peach or a plum, it's not  usually considered pretty and not for every taste, but it's brilliance underground: crimson on the outside, white inside, sharp, sometimes sweet.

Jose Saramago: Wild Radish

Filed under: Literary Tagged: Jose Saramago bio [image error] [image error] [image error]

Advance Quotes!

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[A]stonishing, shocking, loving…Step into this novel and you will find yourself submerged; wake from it, and you will find yourself transformed. Web of Angels is a rare gift, perfectly named; within this novel, Lilian Nattel has offered us the work, the weave, of angels.

An important book. Groundbreaking, demanding, brave and beautiful. Unforgettable fiction. Brilliant. The miracle is that, in Nattel's hands, this book becomes a testimony to the fierce kindness in the human spirit that battles evil and wins.

The second of these quotes is by Sheree Fitch, the accomplished, vibrant, life affirming author of 23 books across adult, YA, and children's literature, including Kiss the Joy as it Flies and Pluto's Ghost.

The first quote is by Gail Anderson-Dargatz, writing prof at UBC and the prize winning author of The Cure for Death by Lightening, A Recipe for Bees and Turtle Valley, books rooted in land and hope.

Both of these wonderful authors generously read my novel in manuscript and responded with unbounded enthusiasm and these wonderful advance quotes for ARC's. I want to thank Sheree and Gail from the bottom of my heart and on behalf of all those heroes to whom Web of Angels is dedicated.

Some background on what inspired Web of Angels here.

Filed under: Literary, Personal, Uplifting Tagged: Gail Anderson-Dargatz, Sheree Fitch, Web of Angels

You Are My Only by Beth Kephart

You Are My Only is a gorgeously written YA novel. That's the first thing I want you to know about it. The second thing is that I couldn't put it down. I read it in a day, ignoring my children. My older daughter, age 13, curious about my absorption, examined the cover and picked up the book to see what it was all about. That is the beauty of a paper book.

You Are My Only is told from two perspectives in alternating chapters. First there is Sophie, age fourteen, who has had a fugitive life being precipitously moved about by the woman she knows as her mother, who is always in a state of mystifyingly oppressive fear. Then there is Emmy, a young mom whose life and sanity were broken by the abduction of her baby, unnamed, but clearly Sophie.

But Emmy and Sophie both find love and comfort from the kind actions of strangers who enter their lives. Emmy is helped first and last by Arlen, an unprepossessing man, unsuccessful in material goods but large of heart. Her relationship with an anorexic young woman in a psychiatric hospital is also one of tenderness and mutual support.

Sophie finds courage, love, meaning and a way to better her life when she moves next door to a very different made family from the one her "fake mother" (as my daughter M called her) made. Joey, about her age, was adopted by his father's stepsister and her partner: Helen and Cloris are an artistic, nurturing and accepting couple, strong even in the face of evident sorrow.

This is not a sensationalistic treatment of a subject that could easily be sensationalized and sentimental. I noticed a couple of disappointed reviews on Amazon by readers who expected that sort of treatment. The other reviews, the 5 star ones, loved what I did about this book: the beauty of the language, the tenderness of the characterizations, the love and hope and kindness that come to lift up a life even in dire situations and so to change it forever for good.

A taste (p 1):

My house is a storybook house. A huff-and-a-puff-and-they'll-blow-it-down house. The roof is soft; it's tumbled. There are bushes growing tall past the sills. A single sprouted tree leans in from high above the cracked slate path, torpedoing acorns to the ground.

Another (p 36):

He has taken off his jacket and given it to me, laid it across my knees like a blanket. He has kept his arm across my shoulder, and I don't mind him, not really. I don't mind how he gives me room to tell my Baby stories, how he lets things be–no questions.

I pre-ordered You Are My Only and it arrived at my house the day after the release date. I read it as soon as I could and I recommend you do too!

My favourite lines (p 235):

"We're a sight," I say, and then we're laughing, as if nothing was ever wrong or ever could be, as if we engineered goodness. As if we have that power.

You see, we do.

Filed under: Beautiful, Literary Tagged: Beth Kephart, You Are My Only [image error] [image error]

Sunshine and Gratitude

For the view outside my window, golden leaves against a blue sky, I'm grateful, and for the squirrel that skitters across the flat roof to visit, though he won't sit for a photo, too. For ice skating with A, hand in hand this morning, for my older daughter's wrist in my hand as I pulled her around the rink, I'm grateful. For H's happy face greeting us as we came home, having been allowed to sleep in and then peacefully enjoy fistfuls of crackers, I am grateful. For the creativity of my children, busily painting, I am grateful. For the creamy oatmeal that A made, I am grateful and so is my pleasantly full stomach, also for the apples and banana that adorned it.

None of these things depend on the market, or on reviews, or on the rise and fall of the dollar, though I am grateful for enough dollars to have a cozy house and oatmeal. I am also grateful for the taxes that pay for the arena where we skated this morning.

Tomorrow is candy day, not Thanksgiving, but I am happy to throw around some superfluous thanks anyway.

Painting on Cardboard for Halloween by M

Watercolour on paper by H

Filed under: Fun, Personal Tagged: counting blessings [image error] [image error]

Happy Anniversary

A and I got married 14 years ago–but our anniversary isn't special. Every night, when he comes to bed–our comfy bed with the extra padding–I am grateful and aware of the blessing.

I was volunteering with seniors, facilitating a writing group when A & I moved in together. One of these wise women said to me, "I'm so happy for you; life is better when you're not alone isn't it?"

And not only A, but our two daughters grace my life now. One of them made a fabulous dinner for us, the other made this:

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Filed under: Beautiful, Personal Tagged: blessings [image error] [image error] [image error]

Remembrance Day for Kids

Remembrance Day is a happy day for me because it's A's birthday and my life is immeasurably better for being shared with him. It is also our skating & cottage friend J's birthday. Aside from that, though, it's a day of laying wreaths, remembering battles and honouring those who fought in them.

But today I would like to consider another sort of of battle: the one where kids are unarmed soldiers and their homes are the battlefield. The stats on severe abuse (here and here) are about 1 in 9. That's 11%.

I was one of those kids and I remember it every time there's a holiday, every time I start something new and any time I am filled with joy and shocked by that. I am thinking of it now because next week kids will be running door to door with the thrill of prospectors striking gold. And I know that some kids, at the same time, are using every skill (and their skills are considerable) to control and hide their fear of the giants who terrorize them.

You see, the most common form of terrorism doesn't involve ID's. It's occurring right now in every neighbourhood. The terrorists aren't visibly distinguishable in any way, for they are common everyday rats who mow their lawns and put up decorations for Christmas or Hanukah.

The children who suffer terrorism in their homes grow up and have kids of their own. Most of them are quietly and heroically breaking the cycle. They look at their own kids and are baffled at how anyone can not cherish their innocence. Yet they know that right now, other children are still suffering. I know it. And those kids will be hurting next week when mine and yours are recklessly collecting candy, bringing it home to sort and count and triumph over.

So I want to set aside a time to remember, honour, and send love and light to all those children who have been hurt in their homes. If you would do that too, I do believe our thoughts and prayers will bring them sustenance: November 15 and May 15 are the dates I hope you join me.

Pass it along. Let's talk, let's end the isolation of those struggling alone. Let's do this together.

Filed under: Concerning, Personal, Uplifting Tagged: adult survivors, child abuse [image error]

A Better World for Books

The literacy mission at Better World Books isn't something that's tacked on — it's always been part of our DNA. Starting August 15, 2011, we are making an additional commitment to a simple system: You buy, we donate – Book for BookTM.

I just heard about this site through GoodReads. Shipping is free worldwide, and it's an opportunity to support literacy simply through buying books, though BWB also still accepts cash donations, and has already raised $10,000,000 for literacy.

I remember when, in my own life, owning a book was a rare privilege and there wasn't a single public library accessible to me. Now my problem is space for books and time to read them. All of us who love books know their value and want others to share in it. This is an easy way to do that.

My next set of books will come from BWB.

Filed under: Literary Tagged: buy a book donate a book, world literacy [image error] [image error]

Showing Girls Strength and Grace

At the end of last week, we had 2 special dinner guests. My daughters were star-struck. One could barely speak; the other requested signatures on a notebook, origami birds, and a length of fabric.

This is the way it came about. I was ordering tickets for Canadian Women's Hockey day, and got to chatting with Lexie, the person organizing it. To my delight, she plays in the CWHL (Canadian Women's Hockey League) on our own Toronto Furies. (In case you've forgotten, the Furies are the Greco-Roman goddesses of vengeance.)

One of her teammates, Tessa Bonhomme, is on Battle of the Blades this season, a Canadian tv show that pairs up a hockey player with a figure skater, the prize money going to charity. It's not easy for someone used to battling a puck in full gear to leap into the air with no protection at all–a lot of bruising is involved.

As Lexie mentioned being new to Toronto and living not far from us I thought, Oh wouldn't it be wonderful if my girls could meet her, and maybe she could use a home cooked meal. So, though my kids later thought I was crazy, I sent an email inviting her and a guest.

She accepted and brought another teammate. That is how we ended up having dinner with Alexandra (Lexie) Hoffmeyer, a smart quiet woman in her early 20′s who organizes Canadian Women's Hockey Day, and 3 time Olympian Sami Jo Small, a smart gregarious woman in her mid 30′s.

My daughters got to have an evening with young women who are strong of body and mind, who use all their faculties in their chosen professions. We are privileged this way because Canada has viable women's hockey, which ought to get more attention then it does yet. Though professional sports have far more to offer male athletes, it's a start.

Unlike many male athletes, who are recruited directly from high school, Lexie and Sami Jo went to university. They are both delightful, interesting women. Lexie leans toward books and English, Sami Jo to math. Lexie was a spelling bee champ; Sami Jo became an engineer, though she is now a motivational speaker as well as running a hockey school.

Alexandra Hoffmeyer and Sami Jo Small (click to enlarge)

I was fascinated and heartened to find out that they and their friends socialize over board games. Interacting f2f and 3D–it's not the picture of the texting generation that middle-aged adults usually have. How wonderful to sit around Sorry, Cranium, or Catch-Phrase. If that's where my daughters are headed in a few years, I can get behind it. In fact, I think we should start practising now!

At the end of the evening, we took pictures. Lexie and Sami Jo posed with aplomb, my children sitting beside them, each with her own way of responding to an occasion they'll long remember.

On the way out, Sami Jo paused to talk about her husband's experiences on the Canadian sledge hockey team. Athletes have to learn to focus on the process, she explained, because Olympics, championships, and final games are only a small part of that. Those are moments, often uncontrollable, which can be triumphant or disappointing. Even when triumphant, they can be spoiled by circumstances around the event. Media coverage can turn on them just as easily as it can praise. So it's important to know that it's the journey that matters.

I can relate to that. The same is true for writers–for everyone in fact.

However, I can tell you with great pleasure that the Toronto Furies (who I'm now following on Twitter) won in Boston this weekend, 2-1.

Filed under: Miscellany Tagged: Alexandra Hoffmeyer, Sami Jo Small, women's hockey [image error] [image error] [image error]

Why I'm a Vegetarian

Inspired by Blog Action Day, I'm writing about food while having my first (late!) coffee of the day. I've been on an oatmeal craze ever since a lower wisdom tooth was fixed (and my cheek swelled a lump the size of a pingpong ball) because it's soothing and the maple syrup on it is a treat. That's an aside because there's some left-over oatmeal waiting for me on the table.

I never liked meat. As a kid, I used to hide it under the potatoes. It was worth sacrificing a few potatoes to avoid the meat. Tongue was a delicacy in my neighbourhood, one that I avoided for aesthetic reasons. But the first time I saw a cow open its mouth, I shouted, "Tongue!" in horror. That was when I realized that meat came from animals.

In university I lived mainly on a diet of pancakes and cheesecake, so meat wasn't much of an issue, but it didn't occur to me as a young adult that eating meat wasn't really a necessary part of obtaining all the non-cake food groups. I wasn't much of a cook, and living on my own I didn't have the incentive to become one. I still ate cookies before the main meal (in case I ran out of room for the good stuff).

I didn't decide to become a vegetarian. It was a process of attrition. My cooking style consisted of coming up with a dish and, having discovered it, I'd make it daily for the next 6 months until I found something else easy I could throw together for a main meal. One of those phases was a vegetarian dish, and when I realized how long it had been since I'd eaten any meat, I just kept going.

The first dinner A and I had together was at a Chinese restaurant, and only at the end of the meal, when the meat dish hadn't been touched, did we each confess to the other, discovering that we were both vegetarians.

For A it's an ethical issue. For me it's a combination of preference, health and ethics. I'm glad that what I do is better for the earth. Many more people can be fed on a hundred acres of crop growing land than a hundred acres of grazing, where the land has soil that could support either. And I'm glad that I can look at a cow yawning and feel no pang of guilt.

But the fact is, too, that I'm relieved not to have to hide meat under the potatoes anymore. However, I still have the problem of wish I had more room to eat A's wonderful cooking. The universe had mercy on me when we were put together!

(All right–if he couldn't cook, he'd still be cute, smart and sweet but it helps.)

Filed under: Personal Tagged: reasons to be a vegetarian

On Writing

Books say: She did this because. Life says: She did this. Books are where things are explained to you; life is where things aren't. I'm not surprised some people prefer books. Books make sense of life. The only problem is that the lives they make sense of are other people's lives, never your own. (Flaubert's Parrot)

Unless you're the author–then it's your own, however far from the facts of your life it might seem. At least that's true when I write. What about you?

Filed under: Interesting, Literary Tagged: Writing Life [image error] [image error]