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Waar zijt gij, schildpad
Ga er nooit van uit dat een schildpad dood is. Het houden van schildpadden, regel numero één.
Audrey Flowers is anders. Noem het naïef. Eigenaardig. Of simpelweg: een laag IQ. Haar rustige leventje staat op z'n kop als haar vader na een ongeluk in eenkomma coma ligt in een ziekenhuis in Canada. Audrey moet haar vliegangst overwinnen om hem op te zoeken – haar schildpad Winnifred blijft achter bij onhandige vrienden. Bij aankomst wachten haar meer vragen dan antwoorden over haar familie en verleden. Audreys unieke blik op de wereld en alle detectivevaardigheden die ze dankzij haar Cluedo-verslaving heeft opgedaan zorgen voor een onvergelijkbaar avontuur.
Audrey Flowers is anders. Noem het naïef. Eigenaardig. Of simpelweg: een laag IQ. Haar rustige leventje staat op z'n kop als haar vader na een ongeluk in een
413 pages
First published March 10, 2009
80 people are currently reading
4132 people want to read
About the author
Jessica Grant
2 books103 followersJessica Grant is a Canadian writer, whose debut novel Come, Thou Tortoise won the 2009 Winterset Award and the 2009 Books in Canada First Novel Award.
She lives in St. John's, Newfoundland and Labrador.
Jessica Grant is a member of Newfoundland's Burning Rock Collective (members include Michael Winter and Lisa Moore). Her first collection of short stories, Making Light of Tragedy, includes a story that won both the Western Magazine Award for Fiction and the Journey Prize.
She lives in St. John's, Newfoundland and Labrador.
Jessica Grant is a member of Newfoundland's Burning Rock Collective (members include Michael Winter and Lisa Moore). Her first collection of short stories, Making Light of Tragedy, includes a story that won both the Western Magazine Award for Fiction and the Journey Prize.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 541 reviews
January 2, 2011
This book became one of my favourites of 2010, and if there's one book I would recommend to you right now, it would be this one. Quirky, clever, hilarious, original, poignant, touching, flat-out brilliant all comes to mind in describing Come, Thou Tortoise. It was a random purchase for me, bought on a whim - I didn't know anything about it but I've always loved tortoises and it sounded interesting. Only goes to show how spontaneous book buying, with no research, can reap great rewards!
Such a brilliant book only makes me feel impossibly inarticulate; I don't feel like I have any ability with words in writing this. How to capture the essence, or the eccentricity, or the sheer brilliance of the writing? I can only stumble through what I want to say.
Audrey Flowers has been living in Portland, Oregon with her tortoise, Winnifred (who came with the apartment) when she gets a call from Uncle Thoby, telling her that her father, Walter, a university professor and researcher, is in a coma. Leaving Winnifred with friends, Linda and her aspiring Shakespearian actor boyfriend, Chuck, Audrey flies back to Newfoundland but is too late to see her father: he's already dead. Now it's just her and Uncle Thoby, the black sheep of the family with one arm longer than the other, each dealing with grief in their own strange way, while Winnifred learns Shakespeare from Audrey's friends and reminisces about the time they drove across the country, Winnifred riding the dashboard (she loves the heat vents).
This novel is pretty impossible to summarise, but that's the basic set-up. Both Audrey and Winnifred narrate in first person, in their own distinct and unusual style. Both are wonderful and engaging characters that you'll absolutely love. Audrey - Uncle Thoby nicknamed her "Oddly", which fits her perfectly, is endearingly sweet and captures their love of puns - is both sharp and quick of mind, and also slow to catch on, not always bright and definitely odd. She's not at all stupid, she just thinks in a different way. This comes across vividly in the stories from her childhood, but even as an adult this odd mix of smarts and slowness is striking and balanced, making Oddly a wonderfully rich and realistic character. It's hard to describe her any better than that.
Winnifred will undoubtedly be a favourite with anyone reading this, too. She's a most observant tortoise, and like Audrey, has that mix of childlike innocence and adult world-weariness. Also like Audrey, Winnifred enjoys puns. It actually makes a lot of sense that these two think alike - Audrey has a unique perspective on the world, and Winnifred is quietly eccentric too. Perhaps they rubbed off on each other.
What's clever about how Grant wrote her debut novel, is how she's used the simple technique of not using dialogue punctuation. Normally, I don't much like it when authors leave out quotation marks. It can make a story almost unreadable, or at the very least, often confusing. Here, though, Grant shows how a stylistic device like this can complement and boost a story, as well as strengthen the narrator's voice. Writing is an artform, and deciding how to write something is just as important as character development or plot. Not using quotations actually makes the story flow seamlessly between dialogue and thought, or Winnifred's voiceless conversation. It makes scenes funnier, and grants greater insight. The other thing to note about how the book is written, is that there are no question marks. This troubled me a bit at first, because I wasn't sure whether I should read lines that were clearly questions, as questions (with inflection) or flatly, as statements. After a while, though, I just went with it.
That was Winnifred. It doesn't capture her personality but it's a good sample of what I mean by the ommitted dialogue punctuation and question marks. It's a device that's so cleverly used, and works so well with the characters and the plot and the scenarios and the humour, that it was worth expounding. Even more, it reflects both Audrey's childlike, insightful questions and her blindness and inability to ask the right questions. She'll focus on some inane point while around her something more significant is going on.
There's also a subtle mystery, or puzzle, at play here. A family concern. The truth of Audrey's family (I won't describe it in any other way because talking about it openly will spoil it, and reduce it) is raw and touching and beautiful, and sad. And makes perfect sense. I didn't see it coming, though I never try to puzzle out such things. The blurb mentioned "her father's mysterious past" so I was looking in a different direction, or a bit off-kilter. That's the best way, though. I don't like second-guessing novels.
While the humour made me smile and made me laugh, at heart this is a serious story about darker themes than is at first apparent. In a way, it's a black comedy - making light of the things that are painful and sad in life. There isn't a single character in this novel that won't touch you in some way, and many of them slip in under your skin without you even realising it, like Toff, a lawyer and friend of the family (so Audrey thinks), or her neighbours in Newfoundland. Even Chuck, the aspiring actor who complains about always having to play Antonio, shows a vulnerable side that speaks to you. It's all between the lines, or slipped into the sentences in subtle ways. What's not shown or explained is sometimes more vivid than what is, in Come, Thou Tortoise.
I don't know how Grant will top this one, but whatever she writes next, I'll be there to read it.
Such a brilliant book only makes me feel impossibly inarticulate; I don't feel like I have any ability with words in writing this. How to capture the essence, or the eccentricity, or the sheer brilliance of the writing? I can only stumble through what I want to say.
Audrey Flowers has been living in Portland, Oregon with her tortoise, Winnifred (who came with the apartment) when she gets a call from Uncle Thoby, telling her that her father, Walter, a university professor and researcher, is in a coma. Leaving Winnifred with friends, Linda and her aspiring Shakespearian actor boyfriend, Chuck, Audrey flies back to Newfoundland but is too late to see her father: he's already dead. Now it's just her and Uncle Thoby, the black sheep of the family with one arm longer than the other, each dealing with grief in their own strange way, while Winnifred learns Shakespeare from Audrey's friends and reminisces about the time they drove across the country, Winnifred riding the dashboard (she loves the heat vents).
This novel is pretty impossible to summarise, but that's the basic set-up. Both Audrey and Winnifred narrate in first person, in their own distinct and unusual style. Both are wonderful and engaging characters that you'll absolutely love. Audrey - Uncle Thoby nicknamed her "Oddly", which fits her perfectly, is endearingly sweet and captures their love of puns - is both sharp and quick of mind, and also slow to catch on, not always bright and definitely odd. She's not at all stupid, she just thinks in a different way. This comes across vividly in the stories from her childhood, but even as an adult this odd mix of smarts and slowness is striking and balanced, making Oddly a wonderfully rich and realistic character. It's hard to describe her any better than that.
Winnifred will undoubtedly be a favourite with anyone reading this, too. She's a most observant tortoise, and like Audrey, has that mix of childlike innocence and adult world-weariness. Also like Audrey, Winnifred enjoys puns. It actually makes a lot of sense that these two think alike - Audrey has a unique perspective on the world, and Winnifred is quietly eccentric too. Perhaps they rubbed off on each other.
What's clever about how Grant wrote her debut novel, is how she's used the simple technique of not using dialogue punctuation. Normally, I don't much like it when authors leave out quotation marks. It can make a story almost unreadable, or at the very least, often confusing. Here, though, Grant shows how a stylistic device like this can complement and boost a story, as well as strengthen the narrator's voice. Writing is an artform, and deciding how to write something is just as important as character development or plot. Not using quotations actually makes the story flow seamlessly between dialogue and thought, or Winnifred's voiceless conversation. It makes scenes funnier, and grants greater insight. The other thing to note about how the book is written, is that there are no question marks. This troubled me a bit at first, because I wasn't sure whether I should read lines that were clearly questions, as questions (with inflection) or flatly, as statements. After a while, though, I just went with it.
Will Audrey come back. That is the question. Or is an allegiance switch in order. And is an allegiance switch even possible, considering my options. Linda the Unkempt or Chuck Stanch. Stanch is Chuck's last name. This I learned last night when a Red Cross representative came to the door and referred to him as Mr. Stanch.
Which Linda found for some reason very amusing. Would you like to donate some blood, Mr Stanch.
Shut up. You're going to be Mrs. Stanch soon.
Over my dead body. (p.64)
That was Winnifred. It doesn't capture her personality but it's a good sample of what I mean by the ommitted dialogue punctuation and question marks. It's a device that's so cleverly used, and works so well with the characters and the plot and the scenarios and the humour, that it was worth expounding. Even more, it reflects both Audrey's childlike, insightful questions and her blindness and inability to ask the right questions. She'll focus on some inane point while around her something more significant is going on.
There's also a subtle mystery, or puzzle, at play here. A family concern. The truth of Audrey's family (I won't describe it in any other way because talking about it openly will spoil it, and reduce it) is raw and touching and beautiful, and sad. And makes perfect sense. I didn't see it coming, though I never try to puzzle out such things. The blurb mentioned "her father's mysterious past" so I was looking in a different direction, or a bit off-kilter. That's the best way, though. I don't like second-guessing novels.
While the humour made me smile and made me laugh, at heart this is a serious story about darker themes than is at first apparent. In a way, it's a black comedy - making light of the things that are painful and sad in life. There isn't a single character in this novel that won't touch you in some way, and many of them slip in under your skin without you even realising it, like Toff, a lawyer and friend of the family (so Audrey thinks), or her neighbours in Newfoundland. Even Chuck, the aspiring actor who complains about always having to play Antonio, shows a vulnerable side that speaks to you. It's all between the lines, or slipped into the sentences in subtle ways. What's not shown or explained is sometimes more vivid than what is, in Come, Thou Tortoise.
I don't know how Grant will top this one, but whatever she writes next, I'll be there to read it.
April 16, 2015
I really, really loved and enjoyed this book. What a delightful, adorable read with wonderful characters be they human, tortoise or mouse! I was hooked right from the start and fell in love with Audrey (Oddly) Flowers and her father Walter and Uncle Thoby. I especially loved the author's unique writing style. A poignant story full of humour and wit that I found hard to put down. I got this from the library but I would not say no to owning this book and reading it again and again. ;)
July 14, 2009
3 ½ stars
I would not say no to “Did you like this book?” but I would have to add that I wanted to like it more. I would not say no to… is an oft-repeated line throughout this 400+ page debut novel by Jessica Grant. Having said that, there is much to like about Come, Thou Tortoise: it is unique; at times more-than-amusing; and it is definitely a light-hearted read.
Audrey Flowers, the primary narrator of the story, is affectionately – and appropriately – referred to as Oddly by her father Walter and her Uncle Thoby. The story opens with Audrey on the plane – despite her great fear of flying – after learning from Uncle Thoby that her father is in a coma (or comma, as she is wont to say) back home in St. John’s Newfoundland. As he was walking home he had been hit in the head by a Christmas tree roped to a pickup truck. On the flight, Audrey believes an air marshal to be a terrorist, and manages to grab his gun and lock herself in the bathroom. While all this is going on, her father dies. Also at this time, Winnifred, her previous tenant/boyfriend’s pet tortoise, has been left behind in Oregon in the hands of two inept friends. (When Cliff moved out, he asked Audrey if she wanted Iris, Winnifred’s previous name. I would not say no to a tortoise.) Winnifred, our secondary narrator, with a voice perhaps too close to Audrey’s, wonders if she will suffer the same fate again: when Cliff moved out, he never came back. Will Audrey?
Right after the funeral, and after having been in St. John’s for thirteen years, Uncle Thoby returns home, to England. Twenty-year-old Audrey wonders why he left, and what happened to Wedge, her father’s lab-mouse-become-pet. Audrey never really seems to grasp the fact that Wedge cannot be the same pet mouse she has had all her life, or that “Uncle” Thoby is not really her father’s brother, but was his lover. Audrey is also a “leapling” (born on Feb. 29), a lover of word-play, and of questionable intelligence.
Recollections of her father, and all the other sympathetic people in her past (not even the grandmother can be considered an antagonist in this story); her present-day trip to England to figure out the “mystery” of her upbringing; and the tortoise as the foil to Audrey’s personal perceptions, form the sequence of events. These are all recounted with Grant using a minimal use of punctuation marks. Who was that talking? Or was that thinking? (Lynn Truss would make a fuss!) And you may well find yourself, as I did, focusing more on the use of word play and original observations than trying to figure out what the real plot/mystery is.
Much of the time the word-play is quite ingenious, but sometimes it does come across as contrived: Mr. Rowe drowns while transferring rocks in his row boat. In Mr. O’Leary’s lab: She looks leery; …so that walls became cliffs. Sorry, Cliff’s. Or this exchange with her disappointed Dad inside the car:
I didn’t know Jeeze Louise was short for Jesus, I say, staring out the window.
It’s not short for Jesus. It’s a euphemism for Jesus
Oh.
Don’t be sarcastic. A euphemism –
I know what a you-fizz-em is.
No you don’t.
I bet it’s when you say one thing and mean another.
Well, yes.
So like sarcasm.
No.
Now he’s tangled up. This is good. Keep his brain on this.
Or, that a butterfly corkscrew has hairy armpits. Okay, but did she have to include a picture? Illustrations are sprinkled throughout the book. This is not a children’s book. Well, since it is often difficult to tell the younger Audrey from the older Oddly, perhaps this fits. As does the fact that Audrey’s tone can sound more sappy than snappy. Or that there is very little sentiment ever expressed about her father’s depth – I mean, death.
There are, though, many passages that I enjoyed. One of my favourites is near the beginning of the story when we are told that the Wednesday Pond the Flowers family lives beside is bottomless. Swimming this pond are forty-seven ducks (native), and two swans (not native). When the swans put their heads underwater, they look like baby icebergs. When they lift their heads, they look surprised. Did you see the bottom. No. Did you. No. Let’s check again. They have been checking for years and continue to be surprised.
All in all, would I recommend this book, as a light read? I would not say no.
I would not say no to “Did you like this book?” but I would have to add that I wanted to like it more. I would not say no to… is an oft-repeated line throughout this 400+ page debut novel by Jessica Grant. Having said that, there is much to like about Come, Thou Tortoise: it is unique; at times more-than-amusing; and it is definitely a light-hearted read.
Audrey Flowers, the primary narrator of the story, is affectionately – and appropriately – referred to as Oddly by her father Walter and her Uncle Thoby. The story opens with Audrey on the plane – despite her great fear of flying – after learning from Uncle Thoby that her father is in a coma (or comma, as she is wont to say) back home in St. John’s Newfoundland. As he was walking home he had been hit in the head by a Christmas tree roped to a pickup truck. On the flight, Audrey believes an air marshal to be a terrorist, and manages to grab his gun and lock herself in the bathroom. While all this is going on, her father dies. Also at this time, Winnifred, her previous tenant/boyfriend’s pet tortoise, has been left behind in Oregon in the hands of two inept friends. (When Cliff moved out, he asked Audrey if she wanted Iris, Winnifred’s previous name. I would not say no to a tortoise.) Winnifred, our secondary narrator, with a voice perhaps too close to Audrey’s, wonders if she will suffer the same fate again: when Cliff moved out, he never came back. Will Audrey?
Right after the funeral, and after having been in St. John’s for thirteen years, Uncle Thoby returns home, to England. Twenty-year-old Audrey wonders why he left, and what happened to Wedge, her father’s lab-mouse-become-pet. Audrey never really seems to grasp the fact that Wedge cannot be the same pet mouse she has had all her life, or that “Uncle” Thoby is not really her father’s brother, but was his lover. Audrey is also a “leapling” (born on Feb. 29), a lover of word-play, and of questionable intelligence.
Recollections of her father, and all the other sympathetic people in her past (not even the grandmother can be considered an antagonist in this story); her present-day trip to England to figure out the “mystery” of her upbringing; and the tortoise as the foil to Audrey’s personal perceptions, form the sequence of events. These are all recounted with Grant using a minimal use of punctuation marks. Who was that talking? Or was that thinking? (Lynn Truss would make a fuss!) And you may well find yourself, as I did, focusing more on the use of word play and original observations than trying to figure out what the real plot/mystery is.
Much of the time the word-play is quite ingenious, but sometimes it does come across as contrived: Mr. Rowe drowns while transferring rocks in his row boat. In Mr. O’Leary’s lab: She looks leery; …so that walls became cliffs. Sorry, Cliff’s. Or this exchange with her disappointed Dad inside the car:
I didn’t know Jeeze Louise was short for Jesus, I say, staring out the window.
It’s not short for Jesus. It’s a euphemism for Jesus
Oh.
Don’t be sarcastic. A euphemism –
I know what a you-fizz-em is.
No you don’t.
I bet it’s when you say one thing and mean another.
Well, yes.
So like sarcasm.
No.
Now he’s tangled up. This is good. Keep his brain on this.
Or, that a butterfly corkscrew has hairy armpits. Okay, but did she have to include a picture? Illustrations are sprinkled throughout the book. This is not a children’s book. Well, since it is often difficult to tell the younger Audrey from the older Oddly, perhaps this fits. As does the fact that Audrey’s tone can sound more sappy than snappy. Or that there is very little sentiment ever expressed about her father’s depth – I mean, death.
There are, though, many passages that I enjoyed. One of my favourites is near the beginning of the story when we are told that the Wednesday Pond the Flowers family lives beside is bottomless. Swimming this pond are forty-seven ducks (native), and two swans (not native). When the swans put their heads underwater, they look like baby icebergs. When they lift their heads, they look surprised. Did you see the bottom. No. Did you. No. Let’s check again. They have been checking for years and continue to be surprised.
All in all, would I recommend this book, as a light read? I would not say no.
April 26, 2022
A beautiful, funny, charming book. Sometimes you love a book so much all you can do is gush!
Strongly reminiscent of Vonnegut at his best. Puns galore, but here the punning is not a distraction but serves to advance and strengthen the plot. I totally loved this book.
Strongly reminiscent of Vonnegut at his best. Puns galore, but here the punning is not a distraction but serves to advance and strengthen the plot. I totally loved this book.
August 26, 2016
Honestly, I don't know if I have the words to do this novel justice. As I said a few short weeks ago, I bought this book because I just couldn't resist. Essentially, it just sidled up to me and said, "Take me home with you." So, I did.
My partner, who was with me when I bought the book, asked me what it was that I found so appealing and I couldn't explain other than to say, I just know I'll like it. He was skeptical. I guess it doesn't look like other books I just *had* to buy. Nor is it by an author he knows I like.
And so it was that every morning on our way to work, he'd ask about the book. This is unusual. He reads non-fiction. I read fiction. And while I am sometimes interested in his books, he is never interested in mine. So I was a little unprepared for his questions. How do you like it so far? Great, I'd say. Well, what's happening? Um, well there's this young woman who's supposed to be not very bright, according to stuff I've read about the book, and who's been living in Oregon. Oddly's her name. What? Oddly - like for Audrey. Oh. Anyway she's afraid of flying but is on the plane to Newfoundland, where she's originally from, because her father's in a coma - a comma she calls it. Uh huh. She believes that she'll be able to bring him out of it. He apparently got knocked out by a Christmas tree. What? One fell on him? He got electrocuted? No, not exactly but, anyway, right now she's on the plane and is hiding in the toilet. Because...? Because she saw this gun peeping out from under this guy's jacket so she disarmed him thinking he was a terrorist and she ran into the bathroom with the gun and so, now, the terrorist and the flight attendant are trying to convince her that he's not a terrorist.
And every morning, I'd get the dreaded raised eyebrows. I mean how can you possibly expect someone to accept (i.e take seriously) the fact that Uncle Thoby has one arm longer than the other because he built it himself at the Arm and Leg Rehabilitation Centre after getting it lopped off when the plane took off while he was loading the baggage? Or the fact that Oddly's rock climbing ex-bf really is named Cliff? Or that the fruitfly wants to know when Audrey's going to brush her teeth. Or that Winnifred is worried that Oddly won't come back for her. How do you know the turtle's worried? Tortoise. Right, tortoise - you can read the tortoise's mind? I don't have to read her mind, she tells us. What? The tortoise can talk? Like Howard the turtle? No, she has her own chapters in the book. I see. (^^)
Now, it wasn't until after I'd started reading the novel - in fact just after I'd read the bit about disarming the air marshal that I read somewhere that Audrey was a tad challenged in the IQ department. I was startled by that. I had not cottoned on to any "dullness" in our narrator. In fact, I had thought she was rather bright. And brave!
Sadly, Audrey's beloved father dies before she can get home. Added to that, her only other "real" family, Uncle Thoby abandons her even though he promised he never would. How ever will Audrey come to terms with these things? How will she cope?
I don't know if Audrey would consider herself brave but I think she's braver than me. I would probably be paralyzed by the fact that the car wouldn't start and there was no one to rescue me. And I wouldn't in a million years get on a plane to England without the slightest idea of what I was going to do once I got there, but Audrey does.
While Audrey seems to have accepted the "low IQ" label or, rather, suspects it might be true, having found the reference in her school file and confesses same to the Christmas light guy, just like the Christmas light guy, it doesn't matter to me. In fact, I don't believe it. Audrey is smart and funny and brave and utterly charming. As a reader you can't help but feel privileged to be let into her world. Hey, she even tells you how to open the door to her home. Maybe she'll let you use her shovel!
Now, despite the fact that my SO asked about the book every day until I was done, which in itself was significant, I don't think I convinced him to read it. But *you* should. It will delight you. It will make you smile. And, your faith in human nature, love and determination and family will be restored.
I, for one, wouldn't say no to another book by Jessica Grant.
My partner, who was with me when I bought the book, asked me what it was that I found so appealing and I couldn't explain other than to say, I just know I'll like it. He was skeptical. I guess it doesn't look like other books I just *had* to buy. Nor is it by an author he knows I like.
And so it was that every morning on our way to work, he'd ask about the book. This is unusual. He reads non-fiction. I read fiction. And while I am sometimes interested in his books, he is never interested in mine. So I was a little unprepared for his questions. How do you like it so far? Great, I'd say. Well, what's happening? Um, well there's this young woman who's supposed to be not very bright, according to stuff I've read about the book, and who's been living in Oregon. Oddly's her name. What? Oddly - like for Audrey. Oh. Anyway she's afraid of flying but is on the plane to Newfoundland, where she's originally from, because her father's in a coma - a comma she calls it. Uh huh. She believes that she'll be able to bring him out of it. He apparently got knocked out by a Christmas tree. What? One fell on him? He got electrocuted? No, not exactly but, anyway, right now she's on the plane and is hiding in the toilet. Because...? Because she saw this gun peeping out from under this guy's jacket so she disarmed him thinking he was a terrorist and she ran into the bathroom with the gun and so, now, the terrorist and the flight attendant are trying to convince her that he's not a terrorist.
And every morning, I'd get the dreaded raised eyebrows. I mean how can you possibly expect someone to accept (i.e take seriously) the fact that Uncle Thoby has one arm longer than the other because he built it himself at the Arm and Leg Rehabilitation Centre after getting it lopped off when the plane took off while he was loading the baggage? Or the fact that Oddly's rock climbing ex-bf really is named Cliff? Or that the fruitfly wants to know when Audrey's going to brush her teeth. Or that Winnifred is worried that Oddly won't come back for her. How do you know the turtle's worried? Tortoise. Right, tortoise - you can read the tortoise's mind? I don't have to read her mind, she tells us. What? The tortoise can talk? Like Howard the turtle? No, she has her own chapters in the book. I see. (^^)
Now, it wasn't until after I'd started reading the novel - in fact just after I'd read the bit about disarming the air marshal that I read somewhere that Audrey was a tad challenged in the IQ department. I was startled by that. I had not cottoned on to any "dullness" in our narrator. In fact, I had thought she was rather bright. And brave!
Sadly, Audrey's beloved father dies before she can get home. Added to that, her only other "real" family, Uncle Thoby abandons her even though he promised he never would. How ever will Audrey come to terms with these things? How will she cope?
I don't know if Audrey would consider herself brave but I think she's braver than me. I would probably be paralyzed by the fact that the car wouldn't start and there was no one to rescue me. And I wouldn't in a million years get on a plane to England without the slightest idea of what I was going to do once I got there, but Audrey does.
While Audrey seems to have accepted the "low IQ" label or, rather, suspects it might be true, having found the reference in her school file and confesses same to the Christmas light guy, just like the Christmas light guy, it doesn't matter to me. In fact, I don't believe it. Audrey is smart and funny and brave and utterly charming. As a reader you can't help but feel privileged to be let into her world. Hey, she even tells you how to open the door to her home. Maybe she'll let you use her shovel!
Now, despite the fact that my SO asked about the book every day until I was done, which in itself was significant, I don't think I convinced him to read it. But *you* should. It will delight you. It will make you smile. And, your faith in human nature, love and determination and family will be restored.
I, for one, wouldn't say no to another book by Jessica Grant.
August 4, 2010
I love this book! The narrators (Audrey and Winnifred) are hilarious, sweet, and real. They fear things that I fear, but more importantly, they rejoice in things I love - word play and puns :)
Although the subject matter is actually quite dark (all the more realistic for the majority of us), this book is full of mirth and had me laughing out loud in bed. Audrey's trials, though sometimes heart-wrenching, often end up with hilarious results. The case of the missing mouse (cheeky souris) and the neighbour's biography stood out the most to me as being something I could get caught up in (both as a child and now). Her occasional use of French (as in Pardon-moi - not as in ****) brought a smile to my face - especially in the case of the douze-aout (or rather the Doozoo - LOVE IT!).
Anyway, enough of me ranting. Seriously, stop reading this and please read this lovely book. For realsies. Scram.
Although the subject matter is actually quite dark (all the more realistic for the majority of us), this book is full of mirth and had me laughing out loud in bed. Audrey's trials, though sometimes heart-wrenching, often end up with hilarious results. The case of the missing mouse (cheeky souris) and the neighbour's biography stood out the most to me as being something I could get caught up in (both as a child and now). Her occasional use of French (as in Pardon-moi - not as in ****) brought a smile to my face - especially in the case of the douze-aout (or rather the Doozoo - LOVE IT!).
Anyway, enough of me ranting. Seriously, stop reading this and please read this lovely book. For realsies. Scram.
"That's why he didn't fly. He was about to get on the plane at Heathrow, but then he was sick in the bathroom.
Heathrow-up airport.
I think about how I would like to cut down the legs [of Uncle Thoby's chair:] ... so that when and if Uncle Thoby ever shows up, only his head will be visible over the table." p.211
February 8, 2015
Call me crazy, but I enjoy a plot. It doesn't have to be deep or life-changing, but a plot is required. You can imagine my joy when discovered that this book did, in fact, have a plot and it began on page 362. Apparently this book is listed as both humour and mystery, yet it was neither. Audrey spent a lot of the book reflecting on her life at 7 years old yet, when she wrote as an adult, her voice remained child-like. There was no character development. There were chapters where her pet tortoise narrated, but those were even more nonsensical than it sounds and completely unrelated to the rest of the so-called plot. I don't know how (or why) I bothered finishing it!
July 30, 2010
Jessica Grant’s debut novel is the best thing I’ve read this year. It’s about love, loss, family and home – without mush or predictability. Her writing is truly original – humour abounds, yet it’s poignant without being sentimental. Everything I look for in a book is here – interesting characters, surprising revelations, poetic wordplay. And funny, funny, funny. If you don’t like this book I don’t want to know you.
September 22, 2010
this is one odd little book.
and i mean that as a compliment.
i love that she loves corkscrews because they embrace the essence of both a ballerina and a weapon. think about it.
i love that she smells soap and runs to buy fudge.
i love that she knows snowflakes are prisms, and that she has a snowshovel that makes imprints of a flower with every load of snow she heaves from the sidewalk to the bank.
i love that the tortise gets a voice. i am slightly disconcerned that i relate more to the tortise's thoughts than the human characters.
i would actually like to be more like Audrey - who narrates when the tortise doesn't - who sees the world slightly askew. she sees and thinks in different planes, from different angles, and so her view is fresh and appealing. and she seems to have this amazing ability to entertain and inform herself. yup. i would like to be a bit more like her .... well ... except for the fear of flying bit. and the ill-thought out bits. and ......
maybe i would like to have a friend who was more like Audrey.
i suspect there are / will be few 'bad' reviews of this book on Goodreads. look at the title. look at the cover. read this on the inside flap:
Here's a bit of information about our heroine, Audrey Flowers, which may come in handy while reading this book:
- she applies the rules of the board game Clue to help her with many of life's quandries
- she's terminally afraid of flying
- she finds comfort in making lists, lots and lots of lists
- her tortoise, Winnifred, often ponders Shakespearean speeches and the nature of exponents
who is going to think this is a book to pick up and take home and spend time with? who? well, those looking for a quirk for a heroine, an odd -but sweet- meandering story and a look at life outside the norm, of course. and that is exactly what they get. erego, few 'bad' reviews.
and i mean that as a compliment.
i love that she loves corkscrews because they embrace the essence of both a ballerina and a weapon. think about it.
i love that she smells soap and runs to buy fudge.
i love that she knows snowflakes are prisms, and that she has a snowshovel that makes imprints of a flower with every load of snow she heaves from the sidewalk to the bank.
i love that the tortise gets a voice. i am slightly disconcerned that i relate more to the tortise's thoughts than the human characters.
i would actually like to be more like Audrey - who narrates when the tortise doesn't - who sees the world slightly askew. she sees and thinks in different planes, from different angles, and so her view is fresh and appealing. and she seems to have this amazing ability to entertain and inform herself. yup. i would like to be a bit more like her .... well ... except for the fear of flying bit. and the ill-thought out bits. and ......
maybe i would like to have a friend who was more like Audrey.
i suspect there are / will be few 'bad' reviews of this book on Goodreads. look at the title. look at the cover. read this on the inside flap:
Here's a bit of information about our heroine, Audrey Flowers, which may come in handy while reading this book:
- she applies the rules of the board game Clue to help her with many of life's quandries
- she's terminally afraid of flying
- she finds comfort in making lists, lots and lots of lists
- her tortoise, Winnifred, often ponders Shakespearean speeches and the nature of exponents
who is going to think this is a book to pick up and take home and spend time with? who? well, those looking for a quirk for a heroine, an odd -but sweet- meandering story and a look at life outside the norm, of course. and that is exactly what they get. erego, few 'bad' reviews.
July 21, 2014
I loved this book so,so much. I was initially drawn to it because, having always had a fondness for tortoises, the prospect of a book narrated in part by one was too intriguing to pass up. I went into this expecting a lighthearted, funny read, but found a real emotional depth beneath all the humor that took me by surprise. For a book so filled with quirky characters and absurd situations there is quite an exquisite subtlety of emotion here; of love and loss and fear and redemption. To interweave these into one cohesive and genuine story is not an easy task, and this author manages it just beautifully. This book is not quite like anything I have ever read. I loved the characters, I loved the story, I loved the tortoise, I loved it all.
September 25, 2015
One of the narrators of this book is a tortoise. Do you know me? Can you spell “smitten”? Also, said tortoise lives in Portland, and I was just there and learned how to pronounce Willamette a few short weeks ago, and the human narrator’s nickname is Oddly and she’s from Newfoundland. In short, the book’s infrastructure would have won me over all on its own, and I haven’t even started talking about the story and the GENIUS way it’s told. I’m going to tell you about it. Are you ready.
This is a story about family, growing up, love, loss and grief, told with an enormous heart, tremendous imagination and love, and a constant undercurrent of eye-twinkling humour. Reading it is like floating on a huge, happy cloud of softness and warmth and chocolate and rainbows. Sometimes you cry, but most of the time you grin like a fool. What’s that eyebrow for. I’m serious.
The narration might not be for everyone, but if you’ve spent any time on the internet in the last few years, you have learned to appreciate the modern method of deadpanning, which is to use no dialogue punctuation, ever. And there’s a lot of dialogue (funny, touching, hilarious, good-humoured, gut-wrenching, and any other adjective you can think of, dialogue) and you can’t catch your breath because you can’t stop reading or you'll forget who's talking and then you have to start again. Don’t look at the punctuation. Just look at the story.
Most of it is about Oddly growing up with her dad and Uncle Thoby, some of it is about her time in Oregon with her tortoise, Winnifred (formerly known differently), who narrates the same way Audrey does, and I don’t have to tell you how much I’m into a deadpanning tortoise.
I didn't want it to end. It's a beautiful story, and now I want a plane in the basement. But mostly, I want a tortoise so I can build it a castle.
You should read this book. It’s wonderful.
This is a story about family, growing up, love, loss and grief, told with an enormous heart, tremendous imagination and love, and a constant undercurrent of eye-twinkling humour. Reading it is like floating on a huge, happy cloud of softness and warmth and chocolate and rainbows. Sometimes you cry, but most of the time you grin like a fool. What’s that eyebrow for. I’m serious.
The narration might not be for everyone, but if you’ve spent any time on the internet in the last few years, you have learned to appreciate the modern method of deadpanning, which is to use no dialogue punctuation, ever. And there’s a lot of dialogue (funny, touching, hilarious, good-humoured, gut-wrenching, and any other adjective you can think of, dialogue) and you can’t catch your breath because you can’t stop reading or you'll forget who's talking and then you have to start again. Don’t look at the punctuation. Just look at the story.
Most of it is about Oddly growing up with her dad and Uncle Thoby, some of it is about her time in Oregon with her tortoise, Winnifred (formerly known differently), who narrates the same way Audrey does, and I don’t have to tell you how much I’m into a deadpanning tortoise.
I didn't want it to end. It's a beautiful story, and now I want a plane in the basement. But mostly, I want a tortoise so I can build it a castle.
You should read this book. It’s wonderful.
May 14, 2012
"It is surprisingly easy to lose your front tooth." For those of you who know me, you understand that I could not agree more. Then when the author followed up that line with, "He said the reason it was important to read was so I'd get all the jokes out there in the world," she had my undivided attention.
This book isn't easily summarized (happily)--so you really should just pick it up and start in--and then thank yourself for enjoying a true original. I love that this book enjoys playing around with ideas--how they skitter around and coincidentally knock into each other because of the imperfections of language. It's how I tend to look at the world, which always requires a lot of side-bar. So it was fun going on this relatively safe adventure with the most excellent company of a wise tortoise called Winnefred and an oddly intelligent woman called Audrey.
Some other keepers, as delightful out of context as they are in:
"Everything I need is everywhere I need it."
"I would not say no to a cowboy hat."
"Kissing on the porch, all that."
"Someone who tiptoes either loves you or hates you."
"Imagine two men asleep in the woods."
"If you want the feeling of deja vu to last, you should keep very still."
"Don't be such a want-wit."
"And you sat beside me and shared your trail mix."
This book isn't easily summarized (happily)--so you really should just pick it up and start in--and then thank yourself for enjoying a true original. I love that this book enjoys playing around with ideas--how they skitter around and coincidentally knock into each other because of the imperfections of language. It's how I tend to look at the world, which always requires a lot of side-bar. So it was fun going on this relatively safe adventure with the most excellent company of a wise tortoise called Winnefred and an oddly intelligent woman called Audrey.
Some other keepers, as delightful out of context as they are in:
"Everything I need is everywhere I need it."
"I would not say no to a cowboy hat."
"Kissing on the porch, all that."
"Someone who tiptoes either loves you or hates you."
"Imagine two men asleep in the woods."
"If you want the feeling of deja vu to last, you should keep very still."
"Don't be such a want-wit."
"And you sat beside me and shared your trail mix."
June 25, 2011
I was completely charmed by the writing. The story of Oddly (Audrey) Flowers is crafted as well as I imagine one can do it. Jessica Grant knows how to entertain. How to tease. She knows that a function of humour (I actually laughed out loud) is to pave the way for pathos. She understands that without making her readers fall in love with her characters (if only I were 40 years younger), the story becomes inevitably mundane. She knits her plot like it was a game of Clue seemingly random, haphazard, disjointed until all the fragments have been sewn together leaving the reader snuggled (wrapped in a parachute, to use Grant's metaphor) in a comedy as warm as A Christmas Carol. From the beginning it reminded me of Harper Lee's epic, not just because it used a child narrator for much of the plot, but because the substance of the book exceeded "cute" on every page, on every level. Grant has important things to say about love and life. She says them extremely well. I only hope, unlike Lee, she has many more of these inside her.
February 23, 2022
(Review January 2016:)
This was my favourite book of 2010.
Reading history:
Waar zijt gij, schildpad - finished reading 20 Nov. 2010
Rushed out the next day to buy a copy in English - read in Dec. 2010; reread Jan. 2014, twice in a row
It was not my intention to reread it again so soon, but when I saw it featured on several bookbloggers' best-of-2015 lists, I got such a craving that I gave in. And since the Christmas decorations had not been taken down yet, it was still the perfect time for it.
This was my favourite book of 2010.
Reading history:
Waar zijt gij, schildpad - finished reading 20 Nov. 2010
Rushed out the next day to buy a copy in English - read in Dec. 2010; reread Jan. 2014, twice in a row
It was not my intention to reread it again so soon, but when I saw it featured on several bookbloggers' best-of-2015 lists, I got such a craving that I gave in. And since the Christmas decorations had not been taken down yet, it was still the perfect time for it.
June 26, 2017
MIRANDA
The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.
PROSPERO
Shake it off. Come on;
We'll visit Caliban my slave, who never
Yields us kind answer.
MIRANDA
'Tis a villain, sir,
I do not love to look on.
PROSPERO
But, as 'tis,
We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,
Fetch in our wood and serves in offices
That profit us. What, ho! slave! Caliban!
Thou earth, thou! speak.
CALIBAN
[Within] There's wood enough within.
PROSPERO
Come forth, I say! there's other business for thee:
Come, thou tortoise! when?
In the obituary, written by yours truly, the deceased is referred to as Water Flowers. Pretty punny if you ask me. Uncle Thoby thought it was punny too. This morning, before the funeral, we were laughing so hard we had to hold on to the kitchen counter, which is a sign of real laughter. Rule Number One of Real Laughter: Are you holding on to something. Say the counter or someone's shoulder. Do you have to put down your beverage. Then you are really laughing. Or maybe crying.
I gave Come Thou Tortoise four stars at first, because, although I thoroughly enjoyed it, I want to jealously guard my five star reviews for those books which I find incredibly moving and resonating to me. Yet, as I thought about this book overnight, it became more and more moving, more and more resonating. February, by Lisa Moore, was my only 5 star review so far this year because it made me sob throughout, and I thought, by comparison, a funny book like this doesn't have the same weight. And then I realised that, like Audrey and Uncle Thoby, perhaps I was holding onto the kitchen counter, shaking with emotion, not knowing if I'm really laughing…or maybe crying.
When my older daughter was 2 or 3, we were decorating the Christmas tree and it struck me that she would never know anything but the small LED lights that we were stringing on the branches. I thought to make a "When-I-was-a-kid-we-walked-two-miles-through-the-snow-uphill-both-ways-to-get-to-school-type-statement", and as I was trying to say, "Why, when I was a kid, Christmas tree lights were as big as acorns!", it struck me as so funny and ridiculous that I could barely get it out. My husband wanted to know what was so funny, and I kept trying to tell him, but I was laughing so hard that when it did finally come out, it was just not funny. He spent the next few days getting me to tell the story of my hilarious-to-me-and-no-one-else-quip, and everyone agreed that, yes, lights are smaller now, and the big-as-acorns thing is cute, I guess. Finally, the story was repeated to my big brother, and bless him, he was the first to laugh-- the first to understand that I didn't think lights as big as acorns were funny in themselves, but that trying to present the image as awe-inducing, as wistful nostalgia, was subtly ironic. That's something you either get or you don't. And if there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that my brothers and I just get the same things. And that's what Come, Thou Tortoise seems to be about ultimately: It's about the wholeness you feel when you return to the people who share your shorthand. And I don’t mean just verbal shorthand (like the "toidy jar" in Bill Bryson's The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid) but the mental and emotional shorthand that is shared in families and other close relationships. Who but Walter and Uncle Thoby would respond to Audrey's plane crash dream by building a mock airplane in the basement, just so one day she would have the courage to have grand and safe adventures?
Remember when Christmas lights were hot and bulbous. Remember that. So hot they melted nearby ornaments. Then they got smaller. Brighter and braver. If one went out, the others kept going. They deepened to jewel tones. They were stained glass. They were a church in your hand. They didn't burn. You could put them in your mouth and make your cheeks glow. (Don't do that, Audrey. Why. What's Rule Number One of Things That Are Plugged In. Oh right.)
Okay, it may not be a coincidence that I was reminded of the big-as-acorns story, but Christmas lights loom large in this book. This quote demonstrates an interesting device in Come, Thou Tortoise-- dialogue uses neither quotation marks or question marks. It can be confusing, but I suspect that is rather the point. Audrey (or "Oddly" as she is affectionately known to her father and Uncle Thoby) seems to view the world uniquely -- perhaps she falls somewhere on the autism spectrum -- and by omitting the quotation marks, you get a sense that some statements are spoken, some thought, and maybe even Audrey doesn't know which are which. (This also makes sense of the "talking" tortoise, mouse, fruitfly, horse…) By omitting the question marks, voices lose inflection, and the flat tones in my head seemed to do justice to how I imagine Audrey would talk. And speaking of Christmas lights, I was thoroughly charmed by Audrey's relationship with Judd, the Jewish Christmas light inventor. When she confessed that she has a low IQ, he replies that he does too, and everything he does subsequent to that makes me think he's likely on the spectrum, too. This makes him perfectly suited to be the fill-in for the father and uncle who simultaneously abandon Audrey; Judd understands her shorthand. When he first tries to connect her freckles into constellations, it calls to mind the freckle map Audrey tried to create as a child. Who but Judd, upon meeting Winifred the tortoise, would knit her a cosy?
Come, Thou Tortoise is a marvel of wordplay, one of those stories in which every word feels essential and purposeful. I usually grow tired of cleverness, but this book demonstrates that "clever" need not be a bad thing; it is always true to Audrey and what you glimpse of her inner workings. Like when she insisted her father wasn't in a coma but a comma, merely a pause in normal life. And then he died. Period. Some examples of writing I liked:
I don't recognize this latest permutation of the Trans-Canada. It is wide and makes a wet sound. On either side there are pastel houses with their backs to the highway. They have that hunched look like, yuck, is that a highway behind us. Why yes, it is. And I am on it. And why did you get built out here on your fancy trebleclef streets if you did not intend to embrace your location.
There are forty-seven ducks (native) and two swans (not native) living on Wednesday Pond. When the swans put their heads underwater, they look like baby icebergs. When they lift their heads, they look surprised. Did you see the bottom. No. Did you. No. Let's check again. They have been checking for years and continue to be surprised.
If you want to know how kind someone is, here is a little experiment. Try to make eye contact with him while he is on the phone. If he is kind, he will avoid your eyes. Because eye contact is a betrayal of the person on the other end, who can't see. It is like having a blind person in the room. Would you make eye contact with a seeing person while talking to a blind person. Not if you are kind. Not if you are Mr. Earnest. If you are Mr. Earnest you turn off your eyes while you are on the phone. Because you are intent on the person you can't see. You never show irony with your eyes unless everyone has an equal chance to be in on it.
As a kid this sound -- the sound of a car not able to start -- could make me cry instantly. It was the sound of pain, of fever, of wanting to throw up and not being able to.
Someone who tiptoes either loves you or hates you.
I also appreciated that this book is unabashedly Canadian. I'm sure it's a publishing decision to make certain that everything in a Canadian author's book is relatable beyond our borders, but putting in references to Timbits and Canadian Tire and the terror of the snow plough coming just as you've shovelled out your driveway shows a self-confidence that I appreciate in an author; confidence that readers will either understand the references, investigate the references, or ignore the references-- that's up to the reader, not the author. That may not be how Canadian authors write, but I think it should be. Only because I've been to St. John's did I understand that when they went to Seagull Hill to watch the signals flying around, it meant that they went to Signal Hill to watch the seagulls flying around. I'm sure there are many references that went over my head. I was also pleasantly shocked when, early on, Audrey says she doesn't like people who read books-- what a thing for the author to put in her mouth! What confidence! This is later amended to Audrey saying she doesn't like people who read books without reading them aloud to her, like her father did.
A couple of Canadiana quotes:
The sound of Newfoundlanders on a plane: If sarcasm were generous, that is the sound.
I eagerly await more complex concentricity in our Canadian coinage.
There were mysteries to investigate in this book, and answers were found, but not all the answers. But I felt that the story wrapped up neatly in the end-- the answers we receive are the ones that Audrey finds and she simply hasn't found them all yet.
In the quote from The Tempest at the beginning of this review, Miranda says, "The strangeness of your story put heaviness in me". Well, the strangeness of Come, Thou Tortoise filled me with lightness, but that doesn't mean that this story is without weight. Upon closer inspection, Jessica Grant joins her fellow Newfoundlander, Lisa Moore, in receiving a full five stars.
The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.
PROSPERO
Shake it off. Come on;
We'll visit Caliban my slave, who never
Yields us kind answer.
MIRANDA
'Tis a villain, sir,
I do not love to look on.
PROSPERO
But, as 'tis,
We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,
Fetch in our wood and serves in offices
That profit us. What, ho! slave! Caliban!
Thou earth, thou! speak.
CALIBAN
[Within] There's wood enough within.
PROSPERO
Come forth, I say! there's other business for thee:
Come, thou tortoise! when?
In the obituary, written by yours truly, the deceased is referred to as Water Flowers. Pretty punny if you ask me. Uncle Thoby thought it was punny too. This morning, before the funeral, we were laughing so hard we had to hold on to the kitchen counter, which is a sign of real laughter. Rule Number One of Real Laughter: Are you holding on to something. Say the counter or someone's shoulder. Do you have to put down your beverage. Then you are really laughing. Or maybe crying.
I gave Come Thou Tortoise four stars at first, because, although I thoroughly enjoyed it, I want to jealously guard my five star reviews for those books which I find incredibly moving and resonating to me. Yet, as I thought about this book overnight, it became more and more moving, more and more resonating. February, by Lisa Moore, was my only 5 star review so far this year because it made me sob throughout, and I thought, by comparison, a funny book like this doesn't have the same weight. And then I realised that, like Audrey and Uncle Thoby, perhaps I was holding onto the kitchen counter, shaking with emotion, not knowing if I'm really laughing…or maybe crying.
When my older daughter was 2 or 3, we were decorating the Christmas tree and it struck me that she would never know anything but the small LED lights that we were stringing on the branches. I thought to make a "When-I-was-a-kid-we-walked-two-miles-through-the-snow-uphill-both-ways-to-get-to-school-type-statement", and as I was trying to say, "Why, when I was a kid, Christmas tree lights were as big as acorns!", it struck me as so funny and ridiculous that I could barely get it out. My husband wanted to know what was so funny, and I kept trying to tell him, but I was laughing so hard that when it did finally come out, it was just not funny. He spent the next few days getting me to tell the story of my hilarious-to-me-and-no-one-else-quip, and everyone agreed that, yes, lights are smaller now, and the big-as-acorns thing is cute, I guess. Finally, the story was repeated to my big brother, and bless him, he was the first to laugh-- the first to understand that I didn't think lights as big as acorns were funny in themselves, but that trying to present the image as awe-inducing, as wistful nostalgia, was subtly ironic. That's something you either get or you don't. And if there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that my brothers and I just get the same things. And that's what Come, Thou Tortoise seems to be about ultimately: It's about the wholeness you feel when you return to the people who share your shorthand. And I don’t mean just verbal shorthand (like the "toidy jar" in Bill Bryson's The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid) but the mental and emotional shorthand that is shared in families and other close relationships. Who but Walter and Uncle Thoby would respond to Audrey's plane crash dream by building a mock airplane in the basement, just so one day she would have the courage to have grand and safe adventures?
Remember when Christmas lights were hot and bulbous. Remember that. So hot they melted nearby ornaments. Then they got smaller. Brighter and braver. If one went out, the others kept going. They deepened to jewel tones. They were stained glass. They were a church in your hand. They didn't burn. You could put them in your mouth and make your cheeks glow. (Don't do that, Audrey. Why. What's Rule Number One of Things That Are Plugged In. Oh right.)
Okay, it may not be a coincidence that I was reminded of the big-as-acorns story, but Christmas lights loom large in this book. This quote demonstrates an interesting device in Come, Thou Tortoise-- dialogue uses neither quotation marks or question marks. It can be confusing, but I suspect that is rather the point. Audrey (or "Oddly" as she is affectionately known to her father and Uncle Thoby) seems to view the world uniquely -- perhaps she falls somewhere on the autism spectrum -- and by omitting the quotation marks, you get a sense that some statements are spoken, some thought, and maybe even Audrey doesn't know which are which. (This also makes sense of the "talking" tortoise, mouse, fruitfly, horse…) By omitting the question marks, voices lose inflection, and the flat tones in my head seemed to do justice to how I imagine Audrey would talk. And speaking of Christmas lights, I was thoroughly charmed by Audrey's relationship with Judd, the Jewish Christmas light inventor. When she confessed that she has a low IQ, he replies that he does too, and everything he does subsequent to that makes me think he's likely on the spectrum, too. This makes him perfectly suited to be the fill-in for the father and uncle who simultaneously abandon Audrey; Judd understands her shorthand. When he first tries to connect her freckles into constellations, it calls to mind the freckle map Audrey tried to create as a child. Who but Judd, upon meeting Winifred the tortoise, would knit her a cosy?
Come, Thou Tortoise is a marvel of wordplay, one of those stories in which every word feels essential and purposeful. I usually grow tired of cleverness, but this book demonstrates that "clever" need not be a bad thing; it is always true to Audrey and what you glimpse of her inner workings. Like when she insisted her father wasn't in a coma but a comma, merely a pause in normal life. And then he died. Period. Some examples of writing I liked:
I don't recognize this latest permutation of the Trans-Canada. It is wide and makes a wet sound. On either side there are pastel houses with their backs to the highway. They have that hunched look like, yuck, is that a highway behind us. Why yes, it is. And I am on it. And why did you get built out here on your fancy trebleclef streets if you did not intend to embrace your location.
There are forty-seven ducks (native) and two swans (not native) living on Wednesday Pond. When the swans put their heads underwater, they look like baby icebergs. When they lift their heads, they look surprised. Did you see the bottom. No. Did you. No. Let's check again. They have been checking for years and continue to be surprised.
If you want to know how kind someone is, here is a little experiment. Try to make eye contact with him while he is on the phone. If he is kind, he will avoid your eyes. Because eye contact is a betrayal of the person on the other end, who can't see. It is like having a blind person in the room. Would you make eye contact with a seeing person while talking to a blind person. Not if you are kind. Not if you are Mr. Earnest. If you are Mr. Earnest you turn off your eyes while you are on the phone. Because you are intent on the person you can't see. You never show irony with your eyes unless everyone has an equal chance to be in on it.
As a kid this sound -- the sound of a car not able to start -- could make me cry instantly. It was the sound of pain, of fever, of wanting to throw up and not being able to.
Someone who tiptoes either loves you or hates you.
I also appreciated that this book is unabashedly Canadian. I'm sure it's a publishing decision to make certain that everything in a Canadian author's book is relatable beyond our borders, but putting in references to Timbits and Canadian Tire and the terror of the snow plough coming just as you've shovelled out your driveway shows a self-confidence that I appreciate in an author; confidence that readers will either understand the references, investigate the references, or ignore the references-- that's up to the reader, not the author. That may not be how Canadian authors write, but I think it should be. Only because I've been to St. John's did I understand that when they went to Seagull Hill to watch the signals flying around, it meant that they went to Signal Hill to watch the seagulls flying around. I'm sure there are many references that went over my head. I was also pleasantly shocked when, early on, Audrey says she doesn't like people who read books-- what a thing for the author to put in her mouth! What confidence! This is later amended to Audrey saying she doesn't like people who read books without reading them aloud to her, like her father did.
A couple of Canadiana quotes:
The sound of Newfoundlanders on a plane: If sarcasm were generous, that is the sound.
I eagerly await more complex concentricity in our Canadian coinage.
There were mysteries to investigate in this book, and answers were found, but not all the answers. But I felt that the story wrapped up neatly in the end-- the answers we receive are the ones that Audrey finds and she simply hasn't found them all yet.
In the quote from The Tempest at the beginning of this review, Miranda says, "The strangeness of your story put heaviness in me". Well, the strangeness of Come, Thou Tortoise filled me with lightness, but that doesn't mean that this story is without weight. Upon closer inspection, Jessica Grant joins her fellow Newfoundlander, Lisa Moore, in receiving a full five stars.
November 21, 2011
Read this book. Use each line like a climbing rope to pull your self further in. Twine Christmas lights around the rope for light and read on with a sense of wonder. For no one thinks like Oddly/Audrey and no one else could navigate you through her losses and her loves as she does. Her narrative voice is original and it makes this book. It makes it wonderfully.
I had forgotten that the brain has geography. The human brain in 1 400 cubic centimeteres of geography. Our heads fit inside airplane windows for Crissakes. We are small and we can be pitched out of our geography. p7
All the houses on Wednesday Place are odd numbers and the best houses are prime.
About this girl who found a secret compartment in her arm. And inside that secret compartment was a message. and guess what the message said.
Do tell.
It said DNA. p 57
Then he sighed and said, People with dogs. As a rule. Are sad.
Sad! But I could still feel the wagginess of Bellhop in my arms. He seemed so happy.
Oh, Bellhop was happy.
Then I understood. Byrne Doyle kept his happiness outside him. Because he was so busy on the inside with worry about elections and whether the people in Poland liked him All his happiness was stored outside him in a woolly dog. p77-78
He said I should never take the weather personally. You sally forth, he said. Remember you're waterproof.
I am.
You could stand inthe rain for hours and you wouldn't fill up with water, would you. p85
Remember when Christmas lights were hot and bulbous. Remember that. Se hot the melted nearby ornaments. Then they got smaller. Brighter and braver. If one went out, the other kept going. They deepened to jewel tones. They were stained glass. They were a church in your hand. They didn't burn. You could put them in your mouth and make your cheeks glow. (Don't do that, Audrey. Why. What's Rule Number One of Things That Are Plugged In. Oh right.) p 144-145
My dad once told me that flying animals- birds, bats, and the like- have smaller genomes than non-flying animals. Like part of their genetic code is missing. And it is this missing part that allows them to fly. You would expect the opposite. You would expect a flying creature to have a larger genome. Some extra code tacked on that says: You Can Fly. But no. It is we who have an extra code. And the extra code says: You Cannot Fly. p 248
I had forgotten that the brain has geography. The human brain in 1 400 cubic centimeteres of geography. Our heads fit inside airplane windows for Crissakes. We are small and we can be pitched out of our geography. p7
All the houses on Wednesday Place are odd numbers and the best houses are prime.
About this girl who found a secret compartment in her arm. And inside that secret compartment was a message. and guess what the message said.
Do tell.
It said DNA. p 57
Then he sighed and said, People with dogs. As a rule. Are sad.
Sad! But I could still feel the wagginess of Bellhop in my arms. He seemed so happy.
Oh, Bellhop was happy.
Then I understood. Byrne Doyle kept his happiness outside him. Because he was so busy on the inside with worry about elections and whether the people in Poland liked him All his happiness was stored outside him in a woolly dog. p77-78
He said I should never take the weather personally. You sally forth, he said. Remember you're waterproof.
I am.
You could stand inthe rain for hours and you wouldn't fill up with water, would you. p85
Remember when Christmas lights were hot and bulbous. Remember that. Se hot the melted nearby ornaments. Then they got smaller. Brighter and braver. If one went out, the other kept going. They deepened to jewel tones. They were stained glass. They were a church in your hand. They didn't burn. You could put them in your mouth and make your cheeks glow. (Don't do that, Audrey. Why. What's Rule Number One of Things That Are Plugged In. Oh right.) p 144-145
My dad once told me that flying animals- birds, bats, and the like- have smaller genomes than non-flying animals. Like part of their genetic code is missing. And it is this missing part that allows them to fly. You would expect the opposite. You would expect a flying creature to have a larger genome. Some extra code tacked on that says: You Can Fly. But no. It is we who have an extra code. And the extra code says: You Cannot Fly. p 248
April 5, 2011
This was an odd read, for me, but that is perfectly fine and I ended up thoroughly charmed by this book.
Two unique voices: Audrey, aka 'Oddly', who is odd and strange in a way that most reviewers are calling 'quirky'. But she is also lovable and a very rich character; I just spent a bit too much time wondering if she was supposed to be autistic, maybe some asperger's? But the 'why' of her doesn't really matter, once you just accept that this is who is telling the story. It did mean that if things weren't clear to Audrey, they weren't clear to the reader; and that her unspoken assumptions - assumptions which were blown out of the water in the final, wonderful denouement - were ours. I thought this was actually very skilfully done, because there were clues in the earlier chapters - questions I had, which I then dismissed because Audrey dismissed, and it turned out I was right to have those questions. (my questions - the thing which made no sense to me, it turned out rightly so - were about the relationship between Audrey's father, her 'uncle' Thoby, and the mysterious Toff.)
And then the other unique voice, of course, is Winifred the Tortoise. I just loved Winifred.
Really worth the read, and if you find it odd and some things don't make sense, stick with it to the end, and it just might come together.
Two unique voices: Audrey, aka 'Oddly', who is odd and strange in a way that most reviewers are calling 'quirky'. But she is also lovable and a very rich character; I just spent a bit too much time wondering if she was supposed to be autistic, maybe some asperger's? But the 'why' of her doesn't really matter, once you just accept that this is who is telling the story. It did mean that if things weren't clear to Audrey, they weren't clear to the reader; and that her unspoken assumptions - assumptions which were blown out of the water in the final, wonderful denouement - were ours. I thought this was actually very skilfully done, because there were clues in the earlier chapters - questions I had, which I then dismissed because Audrey dismissed, and it turned out I was right to have those questions. (my questions - the thing which made no sense to me, it turned out rightly so - were about the relationship between Audrey's father, her 'uncle' Thoby, and the mysterious Toff.)
And then the other unique voice, of course, is Winifred the Tortoise. I just loved Winifred.
Really worth the read, and if you find it odd and some things don't make sense, stick with it to the end, and it just might come together.
March 18, 2011
There is a video I saw of Jessica Grant speaking of this book, and she says something to the effect of - the mysteries that the narrator (and main character, Audrey) is preoccupied with and trying to solve through the book are different than the ones the reader will be preoccupied with - and that, for me, sums up the beauty of this book.
First, the prose is fantastic in a way that makes you smile as you're reading, without realizing you're smiling. The wordplay and inside jokes and random references bring you into the book and make you friends with Audrey pretty quickly.
But let's get back to the mystery thing. While Audrey is trying to solve one mystery that she thinks is the big mystery of the novel, you, as the reader, are trying to figure out something else that Audrey hasn't even realized IS a mystery. The weaving is so good.
At times the book is frustrating because this is ALL from Audrey's POV (well, there is also the tortoise!), so you have to find out details through her quirks and there are things that have not been answered or not addressed but somehow, even though at the end I don't really know all the answers in the detail I would like to know it, I have enough that I can figure it out on my own and that's enough.
Cute and sweet and quirky and definitely being added to my favorite list!
First, the prose is fantastic in a way that makes you smile as you're reading, without realizing you're smiling. The wordplay and inside jokes and random references bring you into the book and make you friends with Audrey pretty quickly.
But let's get back to the mystery thing. While Audrey is trying to solve one mystery that she thinks is the big mystery of the novel, you, as the reader, are trying to figure out something else that Audrey hasn't even realized IS a mystery. The weaving is so good.
At times the book is frustrating because this is ALL from Audrey's POV (well, there is also the tortoise!), so you have to find out details through her quirks and there are things that have not been answered or not addressed but somehow, even though at the end I don't really know all the answers in the detail I would like to know it, I have enough that I can figure it out on my own and that's enough.
Cute and sweet and quirky and definitely being added to my favorite list!
January 5, 2015
It was really good! Very sweet, and the main character is endearing. I'm glad I was slow on the uptake and figured out the mystery only a few pages before Audrey did.
My only small, teeny-tiny complaint is a bit of an affectation in the writing style where she never uses question marks to indicate questions. She also doesn't use quotations for when people are speaking, but I think I've seen this in other "modern" writers. I dimly recall Miriam Toews doing the same thing in The Flying Troutmans.
Saw this in the bookstore and couldn't resist this description from the dust jacket:
"Here's a a bit of information about our heroine, Audrey Flowers, which may come in handy while reading this book:
- she applies the rules of the board game Clue to help her with many of life's quandaries
- she's terminally afraid of flying
- wordplay of all kind amuses her
- she finds comfort in making lists, lots and lots of lists
- her tortoise, Winnifred, often ponders Shakespearean speeches and the nature of exponents"
Also, its title is Come, Thou Tortoise and the author is from Newfoundland!
My only small, teeny-tiny complaint is a bit of an affectation in the writing style where she never uses question marks to indicate questions. She also doesn't use quotations for when people are speaking, but I think I've seen this in other "modern" writers. I dimly recall Miriam Toews doing the same thing in The Flying Troutmans.
Saw this in the bookstore and couldn't resist this description from the dust jacket:
"Here's a a bit of information about our heroine, Audrey Flowers, which may come in handy while reading this book:
- she applies the rules of the board game Clue to help her with many of life's quandaries
- she's terminally afraid of flying
- wordplay of all kind amuses her
- she finds comfort in making lists, lots and lots of lists
- her tortoise, Winnifred, often ponders Shakespearean speeches and the nature of exponents"
Also, its title is Come, Thou Tortoise and the author is from Newfoundland!
November 18, 2018
I've never read a punnier book. Even the tortoise (a tortoise, not a turtle -- that's like comparing me to a mermaid) had puns. When his papier-mâché castle is aflame, he drops a piece of lettuce outside his terrarium with a plea of 'kelp, kelp'.
If puns aren't your thing, I promise, you will still find delight in this book. I absolutely adored Audley ("Oddly"), Winnifred and Uncle Thoby. They will live in my heart for a long time.
Jessica Grant takes readers into a special world with this book -- one that you have to enter with the "North West shove", but once you are there, you won't want to leave. In fact, you might want to enter again when all is said and done because you won't want to have missed a thing.
If you like characters like Owen Meany or Oskar Schell, you'll fall in love with Audley too.
I'm not sure what brought me to this book, but I'm grateful that I didn't miss out on this gem.
If puns aren't your thing, I promise, you will still find delight in this book. I absolutely adored Audley ("Oddly"), Winnifred and Uncle Thoby. They will live in my heart for a long time.
Jessica Grant takes readers into a special world with this book -- one that you have to enter with the "North West shove", but once you are there, you won't want to leave. In fact, you might want to enter again when all is said and done because you won't want to have missed a thing.
If you like characters like Owen Meany or Oskar Schell, you'll fall in love with Audley too.
I'm not sure what brought me to this book, but I'm grateful that I didn't miss out on this gem.
September 9, 2010
I knew I had to read this book when I read the front flap:
Set mostly in St. John's, Newfoundland, where Audrey returns home after her dad is hit by a Christmas tree, it's a charming and somewhat addictive novel, with a nicely skewed POV from Audrey, who is aptly nicknamed "Oddly". Good stuff.
Here's a bit of information about our heroine, Audrey Flowers, which may come in handy while reading this book:
- she applies the rules of the board game Clue to help her with many of life's quandries
- she's terminally afraid of flying
- she finds comfort in making lists, lots and lots of lists
- her tortoise, Winnifred, often ponders Shakespearean speeches and the nature of exponents
Set mostly in St. John's, Newfoundland, where Audrey returns home after her dad is hit by a Christmas tree, it's a charming and somewhat addictive novel, with a nicely skewed POV from Audrey, who is aptly nicknamed "Oddly". Good stuff.
January 10, 2013
I am giving this book 4.25 stars out of 5 and rounding up. I thoroughly enjoyed the snappy, word warping dialogue told from the point of view of a person and a tortoise. The story and main character was like a semi-androgynous, ageless, Canadian version of Oscar Schell in Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. There was a lot of nice themes to consider throughout the book like air travel, bottomless ponds, affinity with nine volt batteries, and mice. I didn't feel like the mystery unraveled at the end of the book was mysterious enough and I'm still unsure if one character had a prosthetic arm or not, and also, who's Toff? So, despite these unanswered questions, I felt right at home in the dysfunctionality and would recommend this book to others.
May 15, 2013
I had this on my bookshelf for a couple of years before giving it a go. It took a little while for me to get into it, but after about 1/8 of the way through, I found myself savouring it one chapter at a time just before bed.
From quirky and absolutely astute observations about things like fluffing up a mouse's bangs, and what it feels like to crawl into bed wearing your jeans (not good), to the speech mannerisms like "Holy lada", and "I would not say no to ... [coffee, a tortoise, etc.]", Audrey gets stuck in your head in a good way. A lovely read that will make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and provides several chuckles along the way. Of special interest to those who know and love Newfoundland. And dads. :)
From quirky and absolutely astute observations about things like fluffing up a mouse's bangs, and what it feels like to crawl into bed wearing your jeans (not good), to the speech mannerisms like "Holy lada", and "I would not say no to ... [coffee, a tortoise, etc.]", Audrey gets stuck in your head in a good way. A lovely read that will make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and provides several chuckles along the way. Of special interest to those who know and love Newfoundland. And dads. :)
July 16, 2015
After mulling over Come, Thou Tortoise for hours, this is the best summation I have managed to come up with: this is why we read. A great intellect walks you through this story but never lords it over you, instead, you get to enjoy the cleverness the ride is made of. The characters that make their home in Grant’s novel are the kind of wonderful people who wrap around your heart and never let go. Rather, they gently squeeze from time to time to let you know they’re still there.
I'm the type of reader who loves to gobble up the tales they love as fast as possible; I found myself slowing down and savouring every page with this one. I’m still stunned by the perfection of this book.
I'm the type of reader who loves to gobble up the tales they love as fast as possible; I found myself slowing down and savouring every page with this one. I’m still stunned by the perfection of this book.
June 11, 2010
Wonderful humour and wordplay throughout.
The story is funny, sad, beautiful. The rather eccentric, loving, warm upbringing of Audrey (or "Oddly" as she's known...lots of wordplay) is wonderful.
There is humour throughout this book and yet the story that unfolds is sad at times. There's true grief in these pages. It's the grief of losing a Loved One and coming to terms with Life afterwards.
A thoroughly lovely story of Life and Love.
The story is funny, sad, beautiful. The rather eccentric, loving, warm upbringing of Audrey (or "Oddly" as she's known...lots of wordplay) is wonderful.
There is humour throughout this book and yet the story that unfolds is sad at times. There's true grief in these pages. It's the grief of losing a Loved One and coming to terms with Life afterwards.
A thoroughly lovely story of Life and Love.
July 6, 2012
Five pages in I thought rating this book honestly was going to be a personal challenge, because last year I employed a similar style of prose in a piece of my own. Should I rate up this book in support of someone I write like? Or do I vengefully rate it down for diluting the uniqueness of my work?
In the end I gave this five stars because, above and beyond any personal bias, this is a very special book.
In the end I gave this five stars because, above and beyond any personal bias, this is a very special book.
June 23, 2016
Underlying this delightful, amusing and quirky story, is sadness. Profound sadness. While I smiled, chuckled, and laughed out loud, the sorrow never left me. The tears were never far behind. How the author managed to pull off this parallel of emotion, the gut-wrenching along with the belly laughs, is a testament to her remarkable skill.
Read it and fall in love with an unusual girl, the men in her life, and her tortoise.
Read it and fall in love with an unusual girl, the men in her life, and her tortoise.
July 4, 2010
This is the best book I've read in ages! I loved it so much I finished it and immediately read it again. And then a third time. And then I bought the paperback for lending to friends (I'd been reading it on my blackberry). All the characters, especially Audrey and Winnifred, absolutely charmed me. The quirky writing style absorbed me every time. What a great book!
June 7, 2012
Loved it. Loved both of their thought patterns. What I recommend when I need to recommend a grown-up fiction book. Enjoyed the style.
April 16, 2019
Delightful. This book is surprisingly poignant and emotional. It’s quirky and fun yet it takes the reader on a journey that is wholly unpredictable. I already want to start reading it again!
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