October 19: Burrowing my nose in a book

I love libraries. This love started shortly after a Dr. Seuss dictionary was placed in my hands.

In the past few years, I endeavour to read at least 2 books each month. Some months, I manage to read up to 9 books, eschewing television for the pleasure of the written page.

Last night, Beth Kaplan, my creative writing class instructor at Ryerson, asked, “What are you reading?”

That was when I came to the realization that it has been a long time since I’ve read a book for its beauty of words. So my goal today is to find a book for its literary merit, a book crafted by an accomplished wordsmith.

We in Canada are very lucky to have some great authors. My opinion is that Canadians spend such a large chunk of the year immersed in frigid temperatures that we have developed the coping mechanism of book burrowing as a tactic for mental, physical, and emotional survival. Thus, the creation of a market for well-written books.

My favourites? Rohinton Mistry’s A Fine Balance and Family Matters are close to the top of my list. He is such a master storyteller, weaving rich descriptions and juxtaposing mundane with the extraordinary. Then there is Carol Shields, another accomplished raconteuse. Before she died in 2003 of breast cancer, she left a rich literary legacy with The Stone Diaries, Larry’s Party, and Unless. Wayson Choy leads me back to a time reminiscent of my childhood in Vancouver as a Chinese Canadian in The Jade Peony, and the companion story, All That Matters.

A couple years ago, I won a tall stack of books from CBC Radio. Among the selection was a book by Barbara Gowdy, Helpless. This book about a child abductor is so successful in portraying a human being whom society would consider the worst of ogres. I consider it to be one of the best kept publishing secrets around.

I browse through the library stacks and happen upon John Coetzee’s Summertime. This looks promising. I had liked a previous read of his works. I picked Disgrace out of the bargain bin at Judd Bookstore in Bloomsbury, London in 2002 as I was returning home to my dorm room after a long day of epidemiology classes at the London School of Hygiene & Tropical Medicine. I was taken by his careful use of words leading to spare yet rich prose. Coetzee subsequently received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2003. I”ll let you know how Summertime goes.

I returned home the long way. I pass Henry Moore's "The Archer". This is a good preamble for my plans for tomorrow. I wander through the streets of Chinatown, pick up a snack in Kensington Market, and browse through the shoe shops along the way, just enjoying the city that I call home.