I tend to read rather omnivorously. I will become fascinated by an author or a subject and consume as much by the author or on the subject as I can before I become bored or indifferent -- and I never know when I might become bored or indifferent. Sometimes, I can be fascinated for months. Other times, a mere matter of weeks. I might eventually go back and pick up where I left off, but I might just as easily never go back.
Over the past few weeks, since we settled in and I started commuting less, I have had more time to catch up on my reading and get back to some of the reading lists I had drafted at different points over the last six months.
What I have been catching up on:
In June, I listened to Susan Vreeland's
The Forest Lover (read by Karen White for Penguin Audio, 2004) and became a little obsessed with Emily Carr. I interlibrary loaned a copy of
Growing Pains: The Autobiography of Emily Carr to find out more about her life and the world she moved in. Several of our art encyclopedias had told me that Carr had traveled to New York late in her life and had even known my favorite artist, Georgia O'Keeffe, so I was dying to know what she thought of O'Keeffe and her American contemporaries. I greatly enjoyed reading
Growing Pains -- Carr has an interesting voice which can be quite brusque while also humorous and warm. However, I was a little frustrated that Carr barely mentions totems in
Growing Pains. Certainly, she never comes across as being as obsessed with them as she does in
The Forest Lover. Perhaps, as she had already covered the Native people of Canada's west coast in
Klee Wyck, Carr did not feel she needed to go into it again. Obviously, I shall have to read
Klee Wyck ...
I love how
Douglas & McIntyre have packaged Carr's books -- they are works of art in their own right (also, I am a sucker for French flaps).
After the 2008 the Lambda Awards winners were announced, I trolled the internets and made a little list of recent lgbtq works I would like to get my hands on. Two weeks ago, I finished Brent Hartinger’s
Geography Club (HarperCollins, 2003) and was all set to read
The Order of the Poison Oak ... except it was already checked out! The horror! While I waited, I read Aoibheann Sweeney's debut novel
Among Other Things, I've Taken Up Smoking (Penguin, 2007) -- a stunning story of loss, loneliness, and the driving human need for intimacy. Sweeney's use of language and imagery was simply beautiful. Lyric, even:
He took a sip of his coffee and for a minute -- only a minute -- I saw how astonishingly handsome he was. It was just long enough to take in his wide, dark eyes, the stone smoothness of his cheeks, his gently curved mouth -- the man he had been all his life: the superior kind of beauty that never belongs. And then he was my father again, sitting across from me, holding on to his coffee mug as if it might slip off the table.
Sweeney was compelling, but after I finished
Among Other Things, I've Taken Up Smoking I felt a bit washed out and in need of lighter fare. Happily,
The Order of the Poison Oak had arrived and I admit I threw myself straight into it, devouring it in a matter of hours. I'm not sure it is necessarily lighter than
Geography Club, but it ends on a happier note than the
Geography Club and has a lot smooching going on. Indeed, I really loved the way Russel and Otto's relationship played out -- so romantic and soppy!
At some point during my little speech, he had started to cry. If the scars on his face made his skin extra thick, it didn't seem that way now. Now it was like there was no skin at all, like I could see right into his very soul. I saw that he was looking at me the way Peppermint Patty had looked at the Little Red-Haired Girl -- and the way I had looked at Web that night in the cove. In his eyes, I was perfect.
Sure enough, he said, "Russel! I love you so much!"
Now I was crying, because Otto looked perfect to me too. There are tears of sorrow and tears of joy, but these were some weird new kind of tear -- tears of sorrow and joy. I felt like I was feeling every emotion I'd ever experienced, all at once. If I had been a fuse box, I so would have blown myself out.
Happily, Russel and Otto's story continues in
Split Screen: Attack of the Soul-Sucking Brain Zombies / Bride of the Soul-Sucking Brain Zombies (HarperTempest, 2007). Russel comes out to his parents, sexy Kevin comes back into the picture, and Min gets a cheerleader girlfriend. It is pretty awesome, really. My only complaint is that while each half of the flip book is the same length, Min's story feels much shorter and less fleshed out. I didn't experience the emotional connect between Min and Leah that I did with Russel and Otto. Perhaps, I was expecting too much? After all, I'd gotten to know inner-Russel through the course of three books and this was the first time I'd encountered inner-Min.
Mostly recently, I read a young adult story collection edited by Jane Summer. Now, having labeled
Not the Only One: Lesbian & Gay Fiction for Teens (Alyson Publications, originally published in 1995 but revised for 2004) as a young adult collection, I want to say that this book is not just for teens. The stories are diverse and (oh, that word again!) compelling enough that they should appeal to most readers. Contributors include some pretty big names like Gregory Maguire, Brent Hartinger, Leslea Newman, and Bonnie Shimko. I've been a fan of Shimko ever since I read
Letters in the Attic (Academy Chicago Publishers, 2002) and her story, "Guarding the Punch -- And Alice," was one of my favorites from this collection.
And that is pretty much everything I've been reading. Well, there were a bunch of graphic novels and some cookbooks, but they'll have to wait for another day.