Y.S. Lee's Blog, page 29

Autumn's here

My name is Y. S. Lee and I've been a sloppy blogger all summer long. Now that it's late September, it is time to change my inconsistent ways. Starting this week, I'll return to my weekly blogging schedule and post something each Wednesday. Promise.

What's up with me?

As a reader:

My husband just gave me a copy of this book.

If you know how I feel about Claire Tomalin and Jane Austen, you will know that I am over the moon and can't wait to rip into it (figuratively, figuratively). But he outdid himself this time, because he gave me this edition:

Did you hear my scream of delight? I'm torn between sleeping with it under my pillow, locking it away under archival conditions, and reading it in one sitting while children scream and my life crumbles around me. Ahem.

As a writer:

Tomorrow, I'm appearing at Kingston WritersFest with YA author Adwoa Badoe. We'll be reading and talking to memoirist Susan Olding on the subject of "Life Lessons". This is my first literary festival as an author, rather than as reader and fan, and I've been looking forward to this for ages!

I'll also be skyping in to Lethbridge, AB's Word on the Street festival this Sunday. I'm very excited for this, too, and glad that I'll never know how big my head looks on a projection screen. If you happen to see it, don't tell me, okay?

As a human being:

My three-year-old's been singing his favourite fall song, Hawksley Workman's "Autumn's Here", without consideration for parental feelings of musical satiety. The child is merciless, so I've decided to inflict it on you, too. This link takes you to a superlong live rendition.

How are you all? What are you up to? What did I miss, while I was not really here over the summer?

Just a snippet

Hi, friends. I forgot to bring my camera to Mississauga. This is the story of my life. Fortunately, one of my readers, Shann, remembered, and so I get to share this moment with you. Thank you, Shann, and to Oscar C. who took the photo.

And thank you to everyone who came and asked such fun and interesting questions! I had a lovely time, and hope you did, too.

P.S. I remembered the 4th bodily humour (from our conversation about Renaissance medicine, remember?): phlegm. Glamourous, glamourous phlegm.

 

 

The book that got away

Hello friends! This week, I've become obsessed with books that elude me in some way. They include:

1. Books I didn't finish, even though they began well and promised to be very satisfying (Judith Flanders's The Invention of Murder, which I began when pregnant but didn't get far before having the baby. When I come back to it, I'll have to start over.)

2. Books I've lent to friends, but can't remember who or when (Old Filth, by Jane Gardam, where are you? Do you have it, Katharine? Eugene, did you take it out west?).

3. Books I'm convinced will be good but to which I failed to do justice as a reader, and which I'll have to re-approach some day (Paul Theroux, My Other Life).

4. Books I swear I own, but cannot find for the life of me! I'm ransacking my house right now for Claire Tomalin's biography, Jane Austen: A Life. I ran across a reference to it the other day and read the first few pages on Amazon (addictive: I dare you to read them and not buy the book immediately). Claire Tomalin is my favourite biographer. I own most of her books. I'm actually, ridiculously, saving one (Mrs. Jordan's Profession) indefinitely because I don't want the day to come when I have no Claire Tomalin books to look forward to. And now I'm ready for my Jane Austen moment.

If only I could find the blasted thing.

Am I alone here? What are your books that got away?

—

In other news: quick reminder that I'm at Mississauga Central Library on Saturday, reading, signing, and talking about the Victorians. Details here.

And I'm interviewed in OurKingston this week. Worryingly, the article's called "A Promise of Violence". I assure you, I did not get aggressive with the reporter.

 

A Reader Reports: Postpartum Edition

Hello, friends. You know how, from time to time, I talk about what I've been reading? I'm going to start calling it A Reader Reports (not least because the initials spell "arr", me hearties!) and making it a regular-ish feature.

At the moment, I spend most of my time with a floppy-yet-lunging baby and trying to remember critical things like where I left my coffee cup. As a result, I have 2 new criteria for things I read:

1. Words must be served in snack-sized portions. Short stories are great. Fact-packed non-fiction is even better, because I can drop it when necessary and remember where I left off (most of the time) without having broken the spell.

2. The pages must lie flat and stay open while my hands do other things.

I know, I know – the second stipulation is just absurd. I hope one day to have one hand free to hold a book. But in the meantime, here's what I've been pecking at.

I confess, I wasn't sure I'd like a blog-inspired book about gardening. I'm not a good – or even mediocre – gardener. I'm also suspicious of blog-spawned books, which are so often single-idea stunts rather than thoughtfully constructed narratives. But Merilyn Simonds's A New Leaf: Growing with My Garden is absolutely terrific. Simonds has a warm, expansive, wry, and sometimes sly voice that invites you into her world. She's great on rituals, mistakes, frustrations, and unexpected delights. And she's always learning, always experimenting. It's a powerful blend of everything I love, all applied to a subject I know little about. Merilyn Simonds makes me want to garden like a fiend – assuming that fiends do, indeed, garden. I'm a little afraid of this new force she's unleashed within me. For now, it's all held in check by the fact that I have no hands with which to turn the pages, but I can plot. Oh yes.

In our house, we have a strict rule about magazines: anything more than 3 months old gets recycled, whether it's been read or not. Unless it's a classic car mag. Or Top Gear. Or a design mag. Or that one about restoring old homes. Or… you get the idea. We are drowning in old magazines. But the stockpile has come in very handy with the appearance of Rule #2, above, and I've been reading old issues of the New Yorker, in particular, from cover to cover. (The image above comes from its profile of Jaron Lanier. I'd link it, but subscription's required.)

I've been reading snippets of Joe Moran's Queuing for Beginners: The Story of Daily Life from Breakfast to Bedtime for months, now. But I suspect this may be the best way to read it. It's a light-hearted book of social anthropology, crammed with details you immediately have to relay to the people nearest you (even if you're in a doctor's waiting room – trust me on that one). If you read it in a long session, the details begin to overwhelm you and they're less delightful than they might otherwise be. And that would be a shame because they're amazing, in both senses of the word.

And that's my report for the past month or so. What are you all reading?

*Also, a little reminder to those in the Greater Toronto Area: I'll be at the Mississauga Central Library on Saturday, August 27, from 2-4, reading and giving a talk on the Victorian era. Tickets are free, but you must have a ticket to attend. Hope to see you there!*

A history of violence

Hello, friends. I've been thinking about England, recently, and specifically about the riots in London and Manchester – cities where I've lived and where I have family and friends. Today I want briefly to mention an angle that hasn't been explored much in the media, and which always struck me when I lived in English cities: the constant shadow of violence that exists in parts of each city.

When I lived in the UK, I was sometimes acutely aware that a fight could break out at any moment. Not everywhere and always, of course, but at certain times of day, in particular parts of the city, in the leadup to or aftermath of some events. At first, I wondered if I was paranoid, or merely a timid Canadian who was reading too much into a situation. But my British spouse confirmed my misgivings. He has a vivid childhood memory of sitting on a train while football hooligans paraded up and down the carriages, chanting and shouting and drinking. He and his family felt tense and helpless, just waiting for something to kick off. It didn't – that day. But he's never forgotten that journey.

Then I read Peter Ackroyd's London: The Biography, which asserts that "London has always possessed a reputation for violence; it stretches back as far as the written records." Ackroyd mentions attacks on foreigners, assaults on tax-collectors, "endemic" violence amongst the populace, casual scraps between children in the street (egged on by parents), professional female sword combat, and eighteenth-century mobs bent on destruction. And he concludes with a description of the Gordon Riots, a political demonstration that swelled into a weeks-long rampage:

Workmen, putting down their tools, apprentices, rising from their benches, boys running errands, all joined different bands of rioters. They believed that, because they were so many, they could not be caught. Many of the participants were in turn motivated "by poverty, by ignorance, by the love of mischief, and the hope of plunder"… once one breach had been made in the secruity and safety of the city, others would follow. The city enjoyed a very fragile equilibrium, and could be rendered unsteady in a moment.

The story ends with a mob of "at least a hundred thousand poor, miserable, ragged rabble, from twelve to sixty years of age… besides half as many women and children" looting and setting thirty-six major fires that killed hundreds. It took the military to restore order. The year? 1780.

The Mob destroying & Setting Fire to the Kings Bench Prison & House of Correction in St Georges Fields, © The British Library

I don't have a tidy conclusion or enriching lesson to draw from all this. Like nearly everyone, I find it thoroughly disheartening. But at the same time, the riots seen in historical context become much less startling overall, don't you think?

The Traitor has landed!

In the UK, anyway. (Australians, you'll get your edition in November. North Americans, we're waiting for spring 2012.)

To celebrate Traitor's debut, here's a deleted scene from the novel. This is a scene that I love, but had to cut when I moved the novel's setting from November 1859 to February 1860. I initially wanted to set Traitor around Guy Fawkes Day but the timing just didn't work out, because of other historical events I wanted to include in the backdrop. Maybe another time…

Anyway, here it is. I hope you enjoy it!

Pedants unite!

I'm slogging away at the copyedits for Candlewick's edition of The Traitor in the Tunnel. One of the things I love about being edited is learning new stuff. For example, did you know the difference in usage for persuade and convince? According to my anonymous but clearly passionate copy editor, "you persuade someone to a point of view; you convince someone to an action". There you go!

And there's eye candy this week: the delightful Enrico, who made a stunning fan book trailer for A Spy in the House, has done it again! This trailer is for The Body at the Tower and once more, it's perfection. Thank you so much, Enrico!

The Traitor, revealed

Hello friends!

In just one month, the third Mary Quinn mystery, The Traitor and the Tunnel, will be published in the UK. Yes, there's still a long-ish wait for us North Americans (spring '12), but I hope you'll find it worthwhile. Candlewick Press are busy shooting the cover, which I hope to get a peek at soon.

I recently heard from an Australian reader, gently ticking me off (in the most charming way possible) for not mentioning Australian pub dates. Mea culpa, Crystal, and I won't forget again! Traitor will be published there in November. And I was delighted to hear this past week that The Body at the Tower has been long-listed for an Australian teen readers' award, the Inky. Woot! (Or is there a more appropriately Australian noise of celebration?)

In the meantime, let's countdown to the UK release (and tide over Americans and Canadians until spring 2012) with this excerpt from Traitor. Hope you enjoy it!

The Agency 4!

Hello friends! I have lovely news to share with you today.

First, A Spy in the House has been nominated for the Canadian Children's Book Centre's brand-new John Spray Mystery Award! Can I possibly hold my breath from now until the winners are announced in October?

Second, I'll be reading, signing, and talking about the Victorians at the Mississauga Public Library on August 27, as their Teen Summer Reading program concludes. I'll post more details here closer to the event.

And finally, I'm absolutely overjoyed to announce that there will be a fourth and final Agency novel. Its working title is Rivals in the City. There's no publication date yet (I have to finish the book first!), but I'm so thrilled to be immersed in Mary Quinn's world, one last time. I hope you'll agree.

Happy long weekend, Canadian and American readers!

The 7lb Time Machine

It's been 4 weeks since I last posted, friends. I didn't mean to stay away that long. But I have an excellent reason:

Our daughter is finally here. She is, possibly, the loveliest baby in the history of babies. (No, I'm not biased. Why do you ask?) And there are so many things I'd forgotten about newborns! Among them:

1. Their breath smells magic. You want to inhale when they exhale (the opposite of what you do with adults).

2. The Poo Cannon. Their timing is impeccable. Enough said.

3. Finally, if you spend your days and nights nursing, changing diapers, helping them sleep, and maybe returning some phone calls or going to the doctor (one or the other; not both), that's a full and exhausting life, my friends. I have the involuntary twitch under my left eye to prove it – just like Harkness.

So while we're all well, and utterly in love with our new girl, and marvelling at the miracle of her existence (we made a person!), my blogging will be sporadic over the next few weeks. Thank you for understanding, and I hope you're all having a splendid June. We certainly are.