Kathleen Molloy

On his blog, Hugh Mcguire asks “What if the Book Business collapses?”

 It would be a disaster for the armies of Canadian publicists. Mayhem for the distributors, printers, and book designers. What of the book sellers? What of the Canadian library system?

Would we have to recycle all of our old favourites?

Would we have to book cross already loved stories instead of churning out new fables with unbent covers?As an author, I should panic at the thought of the Canadian book industry imploding. Yet as a reader I find comfort in the idea. Weird. 

Somehow, and maybe this is me being naïve, … somehow I think we’d revert to the oral tradition.  I think we’d get back to storytelling.Reading has become a solitary pursuit (save for book cubs).  Yet when sharing a story you are never alone.

So … what if the book business collapses? What if no single novel is printed in Canada in 2009?

Jobs will be lost; this is certain and regrettable. You can bet that Harper won’t be bailing out the book business if that happens. Indie bookstores would close if they couldn’t keep old favorites in stock. Literary agents would migrate to the US.  Canadians wouldn’t get Rebecca Eckler’s next book in the hip mommy series “My Kid Lost her First Tooth and I can’t Find it!”

No new books.

But think of the stories we’d tell.

Albertan Artist Veronica Funk was thanked by her local library for all of the hours she volunteered this past year. The library presented her with a gift certificate to the local bookstore. What a beautiful example of bibliokarma and another way to thank our Canadian librarians.

I bought a green SUV. I know, I know; I’ve heard all the arguments that there is no such thing as a “green” SUV. But the plain fact is that I bought a SUV painted green.

“It’s still a SUV.” My beau reminded me at dinner, after having explained the initiative he proposed to our local newspaper to reduce their paper usage for invoicing advertisers.

“You’re awfully green this week.” I teased, trying to divert attention away from his not-so-green wife.

“Daddy’s not green – he’s pink.” Kiddo Number 1 declared.

I tried to explain that when someone is green it means they are thinking about how to protect nature.

“Or they want to barf.” Daddy interjected. “Or they’re new at something.”

“Or jealous.” I added.

“Instead of being green that Mommy bought a green SUV that isn’t green, it made me green.”

“And green,” I emphasized “is the new black.”

“What about red? Do red, Daddy.”

Isn’t it a wonder the Canadians can communicate on any sensible level when we’re talking in so many degrees of confusion? No wonder I scratch my head when I watch CPAC.

Mr. Harper, tell us about your GREEN Plan.

It is always inspiring to learn about readers that inspire. In the January 2009 edition of Chatelaine I read about Robin Grant in St. John’s who loves learning. Loooooves learning to the extent that she founded For the Love of Learning which is an organisation established to help resilient street youth dive into creative writing.

The kids have created plays, poetry, and greeting cards. Their mummer play was a big hit. And you can bet that I’m going to order a 12pack of mummer greeting cards. Nothing says “Happy Winter Solstice” like a hand-sketched drawing of a scary guy in a mask stumbling though the snow.

To Robin Grant, I raise a glass.

I’ve been thinking about Boot. And Pretty. And Granny. It has been a long long long time since I thought about my old friends, and even longer since I saw them last.  Granny’s probably dead by now.

I always suspected that Boot had a thing for Pretty. Did they live happily ever after? Whatever happened to Boot and Pretty once the TVO kids’ show was retired? Do a google search with this phrase to find out: Boot and Pretty, Happily Married and Still Living in Canada

Spoiler: You’ll be happy to know that they are alive and well and living in west Quebec!

Sure you may not have grown up in Ontario in the mid seventies, and your school may not have force fed you TVO programs to encourage in-class reading, and these days you might not think that Pretty is all that BUT who can resist Readalong’s easy to singalong theme song?

 “ You put yourself in a book, enjoy the stories inside
Read along with us at readalong and ride ride ride,
Cuz reading is a lot of fun and easy too…
So join us here at readalong…
You and you and you and you and youLa la la la la la la la laLa la la la la la la laLa la la la la la la la laLa la la la la laLa la la la la la la la la ‘’

Simple. Smart. The way kids’ programming ought to be. I still love the smart simple concept of Readalong.

Nobody wants to throw Princess Patti under the Magic School Bus, … but if that’s what it take to open a timeslot to bring back some of those simple reading shows …

Check out Rickstv TVO kids’ show seventies tribute. And then the TVO theme songs by Preston website.

Cuz reading is a lot of fun and easy too.

Peter at the CanCult.ca blog introduced us to Christian Bok, a PhD candidate at the University of Calgary who is attempting to tackle the culture and politics of Canada’s literary awards system. If you have been following the hullaboloo over Di Brand’s alleged endorsement of a hot young poet, you will agree that this study is well timed.

Bok’s full inteview with Owen Percy is available. Check out this snippet as captured by CanCult:

OP: What do you think of the concept of national prizes or recognition—for example the Governor General’s Awards, which purport to speak for “Canadian Literature.” What do you think of an award which claims to be ‘national.’

CB: Oh, well I think that any prize that aspires to be “national” is probably more concerned with propaganda than aesthetics. All the prizes, of course, claim to pick the most meritorious work. To me, assertions about merit have to address the innovation that a work might have to offer literary history—not simply for one minor nation, but for our whole planet. Nevertheless, nobody creates a prize saying ‘We’re going to pick only the most conservative, most recognizable, work.’ Every panel of judges is going to say that their choices for winners represent the cutting edge of all contenders. But from my perspective as an academic looking at the history of literature on a planetary scale—the shortlists for these prizes often seem very pathological. The jurors are supposed to be selected from among your peers—but when I see the results of their deliberations, I always ask myself:’ What the hell are my peers thinking?’ How is it possible that they can call themselves writers, aspire to greatness, know something presumably about literary history, and yet nevertheless pick mediocre work—work likely to be forgotten within fifty years?  

Now here’s the thing, I still believe there is merit in the Canadian book award system.  Yet at the same time, I also feel like the winners are cursed. Once you get a fancy little gold sticker slapped on the cover of your book you are doomed to continue to write in whatever style you won in, and you can’t deviate because the masses have spoken. You risk loosing your gold sticker edge if you stray. 

Just this weekend I had a conversation with my favourite bookstore maven at Chelsea Books. Frances and I were talking about how some books catch like wild fire (with the help of the book promotion industry and the awards folks striking the matches). Once you get that sticker, you are made. I suggested to Frances that “Toews could now write a grocery list and it would sell.” 

But would Toews take the chance? After her successful Kindness and Troutmans works? Doubtful. Like so many Canadian award winners, she may have written herself into a corner.

Throughout the year our kids do seasonal culls of the books they have hoarded, but never with much enthusiasm. The old adage “you can never have enough books” rings true until Dad slips on one in the night on the way to the can, or Mom finds a soggy book clinging to the bottom of the bathtub.

Come Winter Solstice the kids are a little less reluctant to share their beloved stories with less fortunate readers. Just as we set aside a box for the Food Bank, so too do our kids round up a few books to give away.

“How about this one? You haven’t read this one in a long time.” I hold up a long-forgotten tale as a contender.

“Oh no, Mommy, I’m saving that one for the baby.”

I nudge two more books into the box. The book about dancing cows sits on top.

“Mommy NO! That’s for Helen and Walter!” Helen and Walter aka Our Farmers supply us with beef and butter tarts.

“How about this one about dump trucks? Owls? Snowmen? Oh look, here’s another copy of Munsch’s Love you Forever.”

As I make the suggestions, Kid Number 1 vetoes most of the books that I pile up while only moving a handful to the ‘maybe’ pile and 1 or 2 to the box. Meanwhile Kid Number Two dumps out the box and reshelfs the books.

After the kids relinquish at least 3 stories, we head to the local indie bookstore where each kid picks out a brand new book to wrap and donate. They then pick books for their big cousins. Nana gets a new book, picked by the kids, and often with the word “pooh” in the title. Uncle Bij gets a book with a pretty cover. And the kids cart away one new book each to enjoy December 21 by the fire.

Once home, with a new book in hand it’s somewhat easier for our kids to fill up the used-book box. And they do.

Bibliokarma in small servings.

With all the blog chats about what makes a feminist blog a Feminist Blog I pose the question “What makes a feminist”. It’s curious how definition can hold us hostage.

In Ontario author Eric McCormack’s novel First Blast of the Trumpet Against the Monstrous Regiment of Women we have a protagonist who is haunted by nightmares of women marching in protest. These nightmares plague him through his life and affect all of his relationships to the point that he is carried off by a downward spiral of despair.

 The story isn’t dire. Don’t get me wrong. The fellow just happens to have a string of bad luck wherein almost everyone he loves somehow dies under bizarre circumstances. Father figures and sailors play big roles as he floats around the world trying to out run his nightmares.From the website:First Blast of the Trumpet Against the Monstrous Regiment of Women is the story of Andrew Halfnight, whose life—part dream, part nightmare— begins with a mother’s tragic choice and ends with a lover’s understanding. In between he experiences tempests at sea, relatives who kill for love, and lovers who sacrifice their bodies, all the while unknowingly moving ever closer to the central mystery of his, and all existence.Another Canadian title to book cross.

The Quebec Liberals swept west Quebec in the elections. The party called Action démocratique du Québec will soon be forgotten, the party Québec solidaire will be introduced, and the Parti Québécois will settle in as official opposition. Three out of four of the above mentioned parties have separatist leanings. Can any good come out of it?

Yes.

Political groups mandated to create policy based on culture will create policies based on culture. While every other party in the country considers cuts to cultural programs in these trying financial times… the Quebec separatist parties will keep culture on the radar.

And this is good for books.

And plays.

And the visual arts. And and and…

Then why am I concerned? I encourage the development of culture policies that promote books. But at any cost?

No.

I can’t support a platform of cultural protectionism by exclusion. I won’t support institutionalized bigotry. But I want the books!

It’s a double-edged sword that continues to stab Quebecers in the back.

Book loving ladies of St. Catharines are awash in bibliokarmaThe ladies of Canadian Federation of University Women St. Catharines have being sorting donated books for their Gift of Reading program. And I mean sorting…three elementary schools and about 20 charity agencies will have their libraries replenished with educational, kid-friendly books. In a month, they had collected and distributed 1,110 new or nearly-new books. Over 13 years they donated 48,720 books.Now that’s bibliokarma!