a moment of joyful calm
You’ll be glad to hear I’m my cheerful self again, more or less, despite the horrors of the world and my own turmoil. I’d expected a bit of postpartum slump but wasn’t prepared for how hard it hit. What’s it all about, Alfie? The book still is not that easy to find – not on Amazon, not in bookstores except for Ben McNally Books and the publisher Mosaic Press. But at least it’s available to order from there, and readers are I hope receiving their copies. I’m going in to Ben’s tomorrow for the second time to dedicate and sign books before they send them out.
It amazes me how long it takes people to read books. Once I find one I like, I usually just slam my way through. Friends who were at the launch are in some cases only a few pages in. Of course, I interpret that as them not enjoying the book, rather than their being busy.
I sent an excerpt from Midlife Solo, a piece about my dad, to his dear friend David Suzuki, and David wrote back, “Read it and wept. I loved Gordin who was always bigger than life to me, an inspiring man …” And Dad loved David. What a spectacular pair.
Most of my time is spent marketing these days – posting on social media, sending queries to podcasters and literary festivals, setting up speaking engagements. It’s a big job to try to let people know your book exists, and I’m not very good at it, but better this time than last. It’s simply necessary, that’s all, so get on with it and shut up.
Watched the Giller Prize awards on TV on Monday, feeling as usual like Cinderella watching fiction writers dancing at the ball. How I wish there were such an event for nonfiction. Are we and our books simply not as sexy and interesting? I don’t understand. But I’m very glad to see Canadian writing celebrated, although this year several of the writers, like Eleanor Catton and the winner Sarah Bernstein (with what sounds like a really difficult book), might have been born here but have lived elsewhere for a long time. The show itself was far better this year than last, despite protestors shouting about the bank sponsor of the event and Israel.
The days have been beautiful – crisp, yes, but sunny and mild for November. Sam came over today and we raked many piles of leaves and made a big stew together; he took a pot of it home. Cooking with my son – what a pleasure. In fact, I was awake last night, counting my many blessings, realizing that this is a wondrous plateau of calm, for once. The book is safely out, my kids and grandkids are okay, I think, my health is okay, I think, my friends’ health is okay, I hope, and my country is not at war or run, yet, by wannabe fascists. Does it get luckier than that? I take none of it for granted; we all know something is always coming down the pike. But right now, today, I feel I’ve climbed a mountain and am standing at the top, surveying a beautiful vista.
Hello out there! Hope you are well too.
Out for a walk, met my neighbour Joe’s little black dog Bessie and the most beautiful Japanese maple in the world.
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