I am getting so fed up with the lousy service on the TTC. I already talked about the problems I had a couple of weekends ago, more or less stranded waiting on the Gerrard/Carlton streetcar. Well, tonight I wanted to get to the Dakota, which meant the most direct route was to take the Dundas bus. So we waited and waited and waited. Not surprisingly, when a bus finally turned up, it was completely packed, and I am not really in a mood to be a strap-hanger in a completely packed bus (partly due to my hands and partly just due to general annoyance). I decided to wait on the next one and hung out for a while, but there was nothing even in the far distance, so I just gave up and came home. So there you go -- an evening basically ruined by the TTC. Actually, a year or two ago it was even worse, as I was trying to get to a friend's birthday party and there were absolutely no streetcars running in the right direction. I should have just Uber'ed it...
I think I will simply cross the Dakota off the list as a place too remote for me to even bother with in the future. I'm not entirely sure why but the Dundas cross-town service does seem to be absolutely horrific, whereas Queen is usually passable and King is getting to be almost reliable. But this certainly contributed to a generally shitty day, and I think I may just go lay down, since I don't think I am good for much this evening aside from sulking. I think this weekend, I may try to take a short bike ride (and then possibly a longer one to Soulpepper on Sunday), in preparation to take control of my (travel) destiny back from the TTC. Of course, if things don't go well (and my hands can't handle the strain), then I will be in an even worse mood come next Monday.
Monday, October 29, 2018
Last Minute Theatre Changes
I've spent a bit of time tracking down the plays for the fall season. This post is essentially a continuation of this one, but with a few corrections and updates.
It does not appear that Marisol is going up at York U this season. Perhaps it will come through soon (and ideally be closer to me!). However, Yellow Face will be staged at Cat's Eye at Victoria College (UT), but Nov. 15-17, not 1-3 as originally scheduled. That works a bit better for me, and I'll try to make it on the 17th.
What I had almost completely forgotten about was Irish Players is doing Friel's Dancing at Lughnasa. Indeed, this is the last week, and I'll just squeeze it in on Thurs. Details here.
I don't know if this is going to be a recurring thing (with the new AD), but I remember that Soulpepper almost never had Sunday matinees, which I found kind of frustrating. However, they seem to be running them for the Caryl Churchill play, and I will see if I can score some rush tickets next Sunday. It's still very early in the run, so as long as they make any rush tickets available, I should manage to see the show. I have to say, the full price tickets are awfully expensive, and I don't think I will go at full price.
The Wolves was a huge hit for Howland, but it has just closed (no extensions as far as I can see). I did manage to see it fairly early in the run, and it was solid. I am going to try to use it as inspiration to actually wrap up one of my Sing-for-Your-Supper pieces (due Wed.).
As it happens, while I was checking on SFYS deadlines, I saw that Leroy Theatre was going to be doing a double-bill of brand new George F. Walker plays at the Assembly Theatre. I was pretty excited that I stumbled across this before it hit the airwaves. It was a day or two later that I got an email from the company, and I booked my tickets for a couple of weeks from now. This will probably be the second must-see show of the fall season (after The Wolves), so act now. Tickets can be scored here.
I'm going to pass on Middletown by Will Eno at Crows Nest in November, but for Eno fans, this is one you won't want to miss.
December does look a bit thin at the moment, and perhaps I will go see Every Brilliant Thing at Canadian Stage due to lack of competition (just joking). I'm sure I can find plenty to do to keep myself occupied.
It does not appear that Marisol is going up at York U this season. Perhaps it will come through soon (and ideally be closer to me!). However, Yellow Face will be staged at Cat's Eye at Victoria College (UT), but Nov. 15-17, not 1-3 as originally scheduled. That works a bit better for me, and I'll try to make it on the 17th.
What I had almost completely forgotten about was Irish Players is doing Friel's Dancing at Lughnasa. Indeed, this is the last week, and I'll just squeeze it in on Thurs. Details here.
I don't know if this is going to be a recurring thing (with the new AD), but I remember that Soulpepper almost never had Sunday matinees, which I found kind of frustrating. However, they seem to be running them for the Caryl Churchill play, and I will see if I can score some rush tickets next Sunday. It's still very early in the run, so as long as they make any rush tickets available, I should manage to see the show. I have to say, the full price tickets are awfully expensive, and I don't think I will go at full price.
The Wolves was a huge hit for Howland, but it has just closed (no extensions as far as I can see). I did manage to see it fairly early in the run, and it was solid. I am going to try to use it as inspiration to actually wrap up one of my Sing-for-Your-Supper pieces (due Wed.).
As it happens, while I was checking on SFYS deadlines, I saw that Leroy Theatre was going to be doing a double-bill of brand new George F. Walker plays at the Assembly Theatre. I was pretty excited that I stumbled across this before it hit the airwaves. It was a day or two later that I got an email from the company, and I booked my tickets for a couple of weeks from now. This will probably be the second must-see show of the fall season (after The Wolves), so act now. Tickets can be scored here.
I'm going to pass on Middletown by Will Eno at Crows Nest in November, but for Eno fans, this is one you won't want to miss.
December does look a bit thin at the moment, and perhaps I will go see Every Brilliant Thing at Canadian Stage due to lack of competition (just joking). I'm sure I can find plenty to do to keep myself occupied.
Sunday, October 28, 2018
Should I Stay (Home) or Should I Go (to the Show)?
I've been doing some retrenching in the last year. I don't automatically go to every interesting concert any longer. There are many reasons, but certainly the increased cost is a consideration, as well as all the darn coughing and sneezing, which is starting to take me out of the zone. I had to dig a bit to find enough TSO concerts to make a subscription. I've really slowed down with Tafelmusik as well, though I may see one or two shows this season.
Harder to say on the pop side of things. I had thought pretty seriously about Simple Minds, but even the seats in the upper balcony were fairly pricey, and around that time I had my accident.
I have no idea if there are still tickets, but I had basically planned on seeing Nick Cave this evening (Sunday), but I was so turned off by how he was attacking musicians who are boycotting Israel (as it is well on its way to being an apartheid state) that I decided he didn't need my money. Also, while it is a secondary issue, my single favorite tune off Push the Sky Away - "Higgs Boson Blues" - doesn't appear to be on the set list.
As it happens, next Friday, They Might Be Giants is in town. It's at the Phoenix, and I'd have to stand for the entire show. I passed on Collective Soul for the same reason, and am now kind of kicking myself, but I just don't like standing that long. I'd do it if Camper Van Beethoven came back around, but that's about it.
Now this Monday, Skye Wallace is playing at the Dakota Tavern for only $10. I've seen her do solo sets, and they have been solid, so I am leaning towards going. It would be better for me if she was the opening act, but so be it. Later that week, she is the opening act for Ron Hawkins at The Only Cafe, but all nights are sold out. Curiously, on Nov 21, The Lowest of the Low (Hawkins' main band) is playing a fan-appreciation night at the Dakota, but you have to buy a fairly pricey vinyl box-set to prove you are a fan. I think I'll have to pass, though I do hope the new rarities disk (Thrifty Thrifty Thrifty) gets a separate CD release in the near future.
I was going to see the Hart House Orchestra on Nov. 15, but it turns out I have a conflict with parent-teacher conferences. The next night there is a concert at UT where they are playing Mendelssohn's Octet. It's a good piece not performed that often, so I may go, though the tickets are certainly more expensive than I would like, if one isn't a student. (I do wish there was some kind of alumni pricing like Hart House Theatre has, but this doesn't seem to be the case.)
The only other thing vaguely on my radar is that 54-40 is coming back to the Horseshoe Tavern for the 71st Birthday Celebration in early Dec. I saw them last year, and they were quite good, but do I need to go a second time? I probably will pass, but if I do go, it will be for the Thurs. show, which is $10 cheaper.
So while there is definitely a fair bit of decent music coming through town, I'm going to end up sitting out most of these shows for one reason or another.
Harder to say on the pop side of things. I had thought pretty seriously about Simple Minds, but even the seats in the upper balcony were fairly pricey, and around that time I had my accident.
I have no idea if there are still tickets, but I had basically planned on seeing Nick Cave this evening (Sunday), but I was so turned off by how he was attacking musicians who are boycotting Israel (as it is well on its way to being an apartheid state) that I decided he didn't need my money. Also, while it is a secondary issue, my single favorite tune off Push the Sky Away - "Higgs Boson Blues" - doesn't appear to be on the set list.
As it happens, next Friday, They Might Be Giants is in town. It's at the Phoenix, and I'd have to stand for the entire show. I passed on Collective Soul for the same reason, and am now kind of kicking myself, but I just don't like standing that long. I'd do it if Camper Van Beethoven came back around, but that's about it.
Now this Monday, Skye Wallace is playing at the Dakota Tavern for only $10. I've seen her do solo sets, and they have been solid, so I am leaning towards going. It would be better for me if she was the opening act, but so be it. Later that week, she is the opening act for Ron Hawkins at The Only Cafe, but all nights are sold out. Curiously, on Nov 21, The Lowest of the Low (Hawkins' main band) is playing a fan-appreciation night at the Dakota, but you have to buy a fairly pricey vinyl box-set to prove you are a fan. I think I'll have to pass, though I do hope the new rarities disk (Thrifty Thrifty Thrifty) gets a separate CD release in the near future.
I was going to see the Hart House Orchestra on Nov. 15, but it turns out I have a conflict with parent-teacher conferences. The next night there is a concert at UT where they are playing Mendelssohn's Octet. It's a good piece not performed that often, so I may go, though the tickets are certainly more expensive than I would like, if one isn't a student. (I do wish there was some kind of alumni pricing like Hart House Theatre has, but this doesn't seem to be the case.)
The only other thing vaguely on my radar is that 54-40 is coming back to the Horseshoe Tavern for the 71st Birthday Celebration in early Dec. I saw them last year, and they were quite good, but do I need to go a second time? I probably will pass, but if I do go, it will be for the Thurs. show, which is $10 cheaper.
So while there is definitely a fair bit of decent music coming through town, I'm going to end up sitting out most of these shows for one reason or another.
Friday, October 26, 2018
Life's Too Short
Specifically I am thinking of all the books (and movies and TV shows) that I'd like to get through. I've told myself I have to be more ruthless in abandoning things that I am not enjoying, since it is so rare that they get better. In some cases, I know I'll never return to something, and I would like to effectively (or indeed literally) cross it off my list. But this is just silly. I definitely would have been better off cutting and running with Naipaul's The Enigma of Arrival, Reve's The Evenings, and frankly von Rezzori's The Death of My Brother Abel. But it is a hard lesson to truly internalize if part of my reason for reading is to get through the canon, for better or worse. Nonetheless, I will try to drop things sooner.
I just put this to the test with Hardy's Far from the Madding Crowd. I mentioned that Hardy jumps into the action right away, which is normally a good sign, but in this case, means he is pushing an absurd soap opera plot. The dialog was surprisingly cringe-worthy. Bathsheba is foolish and flighty. I can sort of see where one critic is coming from in saying that part of the tragedy is that she had so few good choices (of men to choose from) in this rural community, but I don't think she had a particularly good character in the first place. Anyway, I simply couldn't stomach the book any more after some ridiculous scene between her and Boldwood* about halfway in. So classic or not, I am abandoning the book and can't imagine ever returning to it. Now it is possible, even likely, that Hardy got better at drawing up realistic characters as he went along, but I have to admit, I have my doubts about The Return of the Native. I guess I'll see in about 18 months...
As it happens, I was returning a book at St. Mike's when I decided I couldn't take any more Hardy, but I still needed something for the train ride home. The book I wanted to read wasn't there any longer, but they did have Didion's Play It As It Lays, which I thought would make an interesting companion piece to McCarthy's Birds of America. No question that Maria makes all kinds of bad choices (some even worse than Bathsheba's) but the writing is so much better. Anyway, we'll see how well I stick to this resolution on the next big test - Faulkner's A Fable is coming up on my reading list next week!
* I just recalled that an awful lot of the plot is actually propelled by Bathsheba just happening to have inherited a signet ring that says "Marry Me." Are you kidding me? Someone (else) would go to the trouble of making a ring (or stamp) that reads like Valentine's Day candy? And properly speaking, this should only be used once (if indeed at all, given that marriage proposals are usually done in person and not through the mail). How completely stupid and implausible. Truly a terrible novel.
I just put this to the test with Hardy's Far from the Madding Crowd. I mentioned that Hardy jumps into the action right away, which is normally a good sign, but in this case, means he is pushing an absurd soap opera plot. The dialog was surprisingly cringe-worthy. Bathsheba is foolish and flighty. I can sort of see where one critic is coming from in saying that part of the tragedy is that she had so few good choices (of men to choose from) in this rural community, but I don't think she had a particularly good character in the first place. Anyway, I simply couldn't stomach the book any more after some ridiculous scene between her and Boldwood* about halfway in. So classic or not, I am abandoning the book and can't imagine ever returning to it. Now it is possible, even likely, that Hardy got better at drawing up realistic characters as he went along, but I have to admit, I have my doubts about The Return of the Native. I guess I'll see in about 18 months...
As it happens, I was returning a book at St. Mike's when I decided I couldn't take any more Hardy, but I still needed something for the train ride home. The book I wanted to read wasn't there any longer, but they did have Didion's Play It As It Lays, which I thought would make an interesting companion piece to McCarthy's Birds of America. No question that Maria makes all kinds of bad choices (some even worse than Bathsheba's) but the writing is so much better. Anyway, we'll see how well I stick to this resolution on the next big test - Faulkner's A Fable is coming up on my reading list next week!
* I just recalled that an awful lot of the plot is actually propelled by Bathsheba just happening to have inherited a signet ring that says "Marry Me." Are you kidding me? Someone (else) would go to the trouble of making a ring (or stamp) that reads like Valentine's Day candy? And properly speaking, this should only be used once (if indeed at all, given that marriage proposals are usually done in person and not through the mail). How completely stupid and implausible. Truly a terrible novel.
Thursday, October 25, 2018
Recent Reading Grab-Bag
While I don't attempt to review all the books I read (mostly just restricting reviews to Canadian lit), I had a few thoughts recently I wanted to share.
First, I think I mentioned this briefly in my review of Vanity Fair, but the introductions to Oxford editions are so annoying. They go into all the plot details. Now I realize their audience is upper-level undergraduates and graduate students who may not have the time to read the novels they are expected to discuss in class (and their real competition may be Cliff's Notes), but I still think that an introduction should cover the main themes of a novel and that key plot points should be discussed in an afterward. While I do like their comprehensive notes, going forward I'll just have to remember to skip the intro. Unfortunately, I didn't stop myself in time for Hardy's Far from the Madding Crowd and most of the key plot points have been spoiled. As it happens, I read this Hardy novel all the way back in high school, but it is a complete blank. I don't remember any of it, whereas I generally remember at least a bit of what I read in undergrad. However, now it is my turn to drop a few minor SPOILERS
SPOILERS to Hardy
What I definitely didn't remember is that Hardy really gets right to the point with offers of marriage coming right and left. Smollet was fairly action-packed, but Hardy tries to fuse a driving plot with some general comments on human nature, though at a much lower level of reflection than George Eliot, for example. I don't know how I'll feel about his later novels, but honestly Far from the Madding Crowd plays out like a soap opera, and not a particularly convincing one. I was completely unconvinced that Fanny would have so blithely hung around at the wrong church (and thus not married Sergeant Troy and preventing most of the action in Far from the Madding Crowd from happening in the first place). In general, the way Hardy presents people falling in and out of love so quickly seems shallow, and I'm not really feeling much appreciation for this novel, though I'll try to read a few of the later ones to see if my opinion improves. Maybe the fact that I don't rate this very highly now is why it didn't stick after I read it in high school.
SPOILERS off
I am a bit more taken with Julian Barnes' Pulse, which is a fairly recent (2011) collection of short stories. The ones where he is covering contemporary issues are fine, though his historical fiction ("The Limner" and "Harmony") is fairly dire. Four of them are almost anthropological field notes of what was said at various parties held by Phil and Joanna, representing what was upper-most on the mind of upper-middle class Londoners (mostly sex and gardening). The very last one has their somewhat shallow thoughts on the impact of global warming. I don't mean to slate Barnes for this. It is true that most people are doing their very best to avoid thinking of the looming catastrophe and certainly are not changing their individual behaviour* -- and worse are voting for politicians who seem determined to make things worse. Nonetheless, we may well look back in 20-30 years' time and ask how could we just sleepwalk into such a terrible future.
No question most people would like to retreat to 50 years ago when things were simpler, and we didn't have to weigh the carbon impact of our lives and travel. I would certainly not mind going back to the 1980s. Not that some things were very depressing to the politically-minded. I was extremely worried about nuclear war happening, perhaps inadvertently, under Reagan, and then in the early 90s I was fascinated as the anti-apartheid movement took off, as well as the unraveling of Communist rule over Eastern Europe, but I was essentially a bystander to all this history. Things definitely seem to be moving in the wrong direction these days with the rise of right-wing political movements all over the place and the triumph of the aggressively ignorant (Trumpism).
I didn't actually talk all that much about literature with my mother, though I did tell her about some of what I was reading. I would guess that she almost certainly read Mary McCarthy's The Group (and likely Didion's Play It As It Lays). I'm much less sure about McCarthy's Birds of America, but she certainly might have, as it was about her generation. It's basically about a young boy (then teenager) who observes what is going on in America with the rise of Civil Rights, the escalation of conflict in Vietnam and the looming threat of nuclear war. He's an intellectual, who sees the world at a bit of a remove, and I do feel some kinship to him and his worldview, though as I said, I grew up 20+ years later. I'm not quite sure where it is going (I'm about 1/3 in), but this may well make it into my top books of the year. I do hope that my mother discovered this book, as I think she would have liked it.
I suppose that is enough for now. I have quite a few other things yet to do this morning.
* I still take vacations now and then, though fairly rarely, and I do travel by train if possible. That said, I may well take a trip to Europe in a few years, which would largely negate the carbon savings of not owning a car. But people just can't live indefinitely under this forced austerity, asked for by (or increasingly demanded by) environmentalists. And so they over-react and vote in people who tell them that everything is fine and that no sacrifices are needed. Thus we are dooming ourselves and most species on the planet. And you wonder why I wish to go back to the 80s...
First, I think I mentioned this briefly in my review of Vanity Fair, but the introductions to Oxford editions are so annoying. They go into all the plot details. Now I realize their audience is upper-level undergraduates and graduate students who may not have the time to read the novels they are expected to discuss in class (and their real competition may be Cliff's Notes), but I still think that an introduction should cover the main themes of a novel and that key plot points should be discussed in an afterward. While I do like their comprehensive notes, going forward I'll just have to remember to skip the intro. Unfortunately, I didn't stop myself in time for Hardy's Far from the Madding Crowd and most of the key plot points have been spoiled. As it happens, I read this Hardy novel all the way back in high school, but it is a complete blank. I don't remember any of it, whereas I generally remember at least a bit of what I read in undergrad. However, now it is my turn to drop a few minor SPOILERS
SPOILERS to Hardy
What I definitely didn't remember is that Hardy really gets right to the point with offers of marriage coming right and left. Smollet was fairly action-packed, but Hardy tries to fuse a driving plot with some general comments on human nature, though at a much lower level of reflection than George Eliot, for example. I don't know how I'll feel about his later novels, but honestly Far from the Madding Crowd plays out like a soap opera, and not a particularly convincing one. I was completely unconvinced that Fanny would have so blithely hung around at the wrong church (and thus not married Sergeant Troy and preventing most of the action in Far from the Madding Crowd from happening in the first place). In general, the way Hardy presents people falling in and out of love so quickly seems shallow, and I'm not really feeling much appreciation for this novel, though I'll try to read a few of the later ones to see if my opinion improves. Maybe the fact that I don't rate this very highly now is why it didn't stick after I read it in high school.
SPOILERS off
I am a bit more taken with Julian Barnes' Pulse, which is a fairly recent (2011) collection of short stories. The ones where he is covering contemporary issues are fine, though his historical fiction ("The Limner" and "Harmony") is fairly dire. Four of them are almost anthropological field notes of what was said at various parties held by Phil and Joanna, representing what was upper-most on the mind of upper-middle class Londoners (mostly sex and gardening). The very last one has their somewhat shallow thoughts on the impact of global warming. I don't mean to slate Barnes for this. It is true that most people are doing their very best to avoid thinking of the looming catastrophe and certainly are not changing their individual behaviour* -- and worse are voting for politicians who seem determined to make things worse. Nonetheless, we may well look back in 20-30 years' time and ask how could we just sleepwalk into such a terrible future.
No question most people would like to retreat to 50 years ago when things were simpler, and we didn't have to weigh the carbon impact of our lives and travel. I would certainly not mind going back to the 1980s. Not that some things were very depressing to the politically-minded. I was extremely worried about nuclear war happening, perhaps inadvertently, under Reagan, and then in the early 90s I was fascinated as the anti-apartheid movement took off, as well as the unraveling of Communist rule over Eastern Europe, but I was essentially a bystander to all this history. Things definitely seem to be moving in the wrong direction these days with the rise of right-wing political movements all over the place and the triumph of the aggressively ignorant (Trumpism).
I didn't actually talk all that much about literature with my mother, though I did tell her about some of what I was reading. I would guess that she almost certainly read Mary McCarthy's The Group (and likely Didion's Play It As It Lays). I'm much less sure about McCarthy's Birds of America, but she certainly might have, as it was about her generation. It's basically about a young boy (then teenager) who observes what is going on in America with the rise of Civil Rights, the escalation of conflict in Vietnam and the looming threat of nuclear war. He's an intellectual, who sees the world at a bit of a remove, and I do feel some kinship to him and his worldview, though as I said, I grew up 20+ years later. I'm not quite sure where it is going (I'm about 1/3 in), but this may well make it into my top books of the year. I do hope that my mother discovered this book, as I think she would have liked it.
I suppose that is enough for now. I have quite a few other things yet to do this morning.
* I still take vacations now and then, though fairly rarely, and I do travel by train if possible. That said, I may well take a trip to Europe in a few years, which would largely negate the carbon savings of not owning a car. But people just can't live indefinitely under this forced austerity, asked for by (or increasingly demanded by) environmentalists. And so they over-react and vote in people who tell them that everything is fine and that no sacrifices are needed. Thus we are dooming ourselves and most species on the planet. And you wonder why I wish to go back to the 80s...
Monday, October 22, 2018
Stranded Sunday
Yesterday was a particularly frustrating day, made far worse by my interactions with the TTC. To be fair, a bit was my fault. I no longer trust the main transit app and the bus service on Pape (specifically the 72) has gotten so bad, I basically jump on any bus whether it is running north or south. In this case, I was trying to get to the Eaton Centre (with my daughter), so I should have just waited it out for the northbound bus. Instead, we got on a southbound one, and at that very moment, I saw a northbound bus turn the corner. On top of everything else, every single southbound bus was turning at Dundas (due to the Toronto marathon). So we had to transfer at Gerrard. For some reason, the Gerrard streetcar was running very late, but then there were no buses going back north (they were all coming south!). I got so frustrated I gave up and went to Gerrard Square instead. (I've certainly run across quite a few people who will give the TTC a few minutes but then give up and Uber it. I expect this will become more and more common every year.)
I decided that I really did need to do a few things downtown, so we took a cab. The crosstown congestion was pretty terrible for a Sunday, presumably because Queen and King were blocked due to the marathon. While I don't get as bent out of shape for the marathon, as I do for TIFF blocking the King streetcar (mostly because it is the weekend), these events really do impose a significant cost on the general public's travel experience. I suspect that means that had I gotten on that Gerrard streetcar, it would have been a miserable stop-and-go experience. Anyway, the cab driver let us off at Victoria and we walked the rest of the way, since it was faster!
I stopped in at BMW and didn't manage to sell a single book (most of which were in very good condition). I might have had better luck at the bigger store, but this is so depressing and basically shows how books and CDs have essentially no resale value at all. What a depressing commentary on today's society, and how different my children's lives will be when they hit college. Rummaging through used books and CDs will basically no longer be an afternoon's entertainment. I did pick up Berryman's Selected Poems. As it happens, I have his Collected (I wasn't entirely sure), though this did point me to a posthumous collection I wasn't aware of. I can probably find someone to offer up the Selected.
We made a very quick stop at the Eaton Centre to grab lunch to go, then got on the subway. It was definitely the better travel option. I put in about two hours at work, and then we came home. I suppose I can take some comfort in the fact that I pushed through and didn't let the TTC derail my plans, but I was not a happy camper for much of the day. My cold came back pretty strong in the evening, and I asked myself if maybe I would have been better off just resting at home...
I decided that I really did need to do a few things downtown, so we took a cab. The crosstown congestion was pretty terrible for a Sunday, presumably because Queen and King were blocked due to the marathon. While I don't get as bent out of shape for the marathon, as I do for TIFF blocking the King streetcar (mostly because it is the weekend), these events really do impose a significant cost on the general public's travel experience. I suspect that means that had I gotten on that Gerrard streetcar, it would have been a miserable stop-and-go experience. Anyway, the cab driver let us off at Victoria and we walked the rest of the way, since it was faster!
I stopped in at BMW and didn't manage to sell a single book (most of which were in very good condition). I might have had better luck at the bigger store, but this is so depressing and basically shows how books and CDs have essentially no resale value at all. What a depressing commentary on today's society, and how different my children's lives will be when they hit college. Rummaging through used books and CDs will basically no longer be an afternoon's entertainment. I did pick up Berryman's Selected Poems. As it happens, I have his Collected (I wasn't entirely sure), though this did point me to a posthumous collection I wasn't aware of. I can probably find someone to offer up the Selected.
We made a very quick stop at the Eaton Centre to grab lunch to go, then got on the subway. It was definitely the better travel option. I put in about two hours at work, and then we came home. I suppose I can take some comfort in the fact that I pushed through and didn't let the TTC derail my plans, but I was not a happy camper for much of the day. My cold came back pretty strong in the evening, and I asked myself if maybe I would have been better off just resting at home...
Sunday, October 21, 2018
The Curse of the Bibliophile
I think one of the drawbacks of trying to read through "the canon" is that it expands dramatically the minute one decides to add works in translation (to say nothing of adding in poetry or short stories). One could probably reasonably get through all the "important" books written by British (and Irish) authors or American authors (and I track my progress here), but then if one wants to read some key texts by the Russians, French, Germans, Italians, etc. then this really is a life-sentence. Some days I accept that I won't ever get through all my reading lists (particularly as I often include interesting "mid-list" authors and keep adding just published books), and some days (particularly when there has been a really long stretch of disappointing books) this depresses me and makes me ask myself why I am bothering. Many of the books that one "ought" to read don't live up to the hype. Personally, I find Faulkner kind of hit or miss, and I certainly don't understand the hype around von Rezzori's The Death of My Brother Abel (I did see a contemporary review that hinted it was self-indulgent and extremely sexist). For that matter, I don't really get why so many (including Calvino) thought that Gadda's That Awful Mess on the Via Merulana was so central to the modern Italian canon. I didn't dislike it, but I just didn't think it lived up to the hype.
But I probably cannot escape being a reader. It is foundational for me -- part of my habitus (as Bourdieu would put it). I picked this up from my parents (who had books and book and more books in the basement), and I'll pass it on to my children, who both seem to be big readers (a true achievement in this internet age). If anything, I probably should do a better job balancing the fiction and the non-fiction (I'm probably 95% fiction these days).
I think I have rearranged my lists so that I will hit most of the key "missing" books over the next 2-3 years, including:
X Homer The Odyssey and The Iliad (sticking with Lattimore and Fitzgerald for now)
X Virgil The Aeneid (a book that I really ought to have read in undergrad)
Fante The Bandini Quartet
X Updike The Rabbit Novels (coming up quite soon)
Sinclair Lewis Main Street
Tolstoy War and Peace (I knocked off Anna Karenina a couple of years ago)
X Conrad The Secret Agent
X Musil The Man Without Qualities (some trepidation with this one)
Perec Life: A User's Manual
Faulkner The Snopes Trilogy
Dickens Oliver Twist (to get to David Copperfield in 3 years, I'd need to go out of sequence)
Hardy Return of the Native (to get to Jude the Obscure sooner, I'd also go out of sequence)
Austen Emma
On balance, I probably have read enough literature to feel I have done about 50% of the canon. It is a significant accomplishment, but there is a such a long, long way to go.
But I probably cannot escape being a reader. It is foundational for me -- part of my habitus (as Bourdieu would put it). I picked this up from my parents (who had books and book and more books in the basement), and I'll pass it on to my children, who both seem to be big readers (a true achievement in this internet age). If anything, I probably should do a better job balancing the fiction and the non-fiction (I'm probably 95% fiction these days).
I think I have rearranged my lists so that I will hit most of the key "missing" books over the next 2-3 years, including:
X Homer The Odyssey and The Iliad (sticking with Lattimore and Fitzgerald for now)
X Virgil The Aeneid (a book that I really ought to have read in undergrad)
Fante The Bandini Quartet
X Updike The Rabbit Novels (coming up quite soon)
Sinclair Lewis Main Street
Tolstoy War and Peace (I knocked off Anna Karenina a couple of years ago)
X Conrad The Secret Agent
X Musil The Man Without Qualities (some trepidation with this one)
Perec Life: A User's Manual
Faulkner The Snopes Trilogy
Dickens Oliver Twist (to get to David Copperfield in 3 years, I'd need to go out of sequence)
Hardy Return of the Native (to get to Jude the Obscure sooner, I'd also go out of sequence)
Austen Emma
On balance, I probably have read enough literature to feel I have done about 50% of the canon. It is a significant accomplishment, but there is a such a long, long way to go.
Saturday, October 20, 2018
Still Fairly Grumpy
Things are pretty much where they were last week. My hands still hurt a fair bit: opening heavy doors (and even tight lids) remains a challenge. I have only been going to the gym once a week, rather than 3 times a week, since I can barely use the machines. I did go tonight and pushed a bit harder, using more machines, but cutting the weight to half of what I used to do. Even that may have been a mistake, but I guess I'll know in the morning. I think I am many months away from being able to do push-ups. I probably would only have biked another month or so, but I think it is unlikely I will be biking before the spring.
While I am generally healing pretty well, I can't shake this cold, which is so annoying. It does add to my general run-down feeling and kind of crummy mood. (Not that day-to-day politics doesn't also add to my general malaise.)
I took a look at the David Milne catalogue (for the show that has opened up at the McMichael). I decided that I don't truly rate Milne all that highly as a painter. Certainly nowhere near the level of the Group of Seven (which is sort of the status accorded him at the AGO, though not at the McMichael). I think there were only 5 or 6 paintings in the catalog that I liked much at all (and one was apparently not even in the exhibit!). I just can't justify the carbon to go under those circumstances, even though there is a shuttle bus from downtown tomorrow and next Sunday. I'm also not regretting my decision to skip The Nether at Coal Mine.
I basically need to decide tomorrow if I am going to try to make The Duchess of Malfi reading next Sunday (it may already be sold out*). I think the next theatre outing after that will either be the Durang shorts at East Side Players or Churchill's Escaped Alone at Soulpepper. Then I'll try to see Yellowface at Victoria College. Mid Nov. will bring a concert or two and perhaps Video Cabaret doing a staged reading of Beckett's Happy Days. While this is not exactly feel-good theatre, I'm still reasonably excited by these offerings.
* It is sold out, and frankly the venue is in a terrible location for me (so I am pleased that when they around to Othello in Feb, it is in a different location). I've actually seen a full production of The Duchess of Malfi (here in Toronto all the way back in '93!), so I was always a bit on the fence. I'm definitely more in the mood for a full production, though I'm even more in the mood for a full production of Congreve's The Way of the World or Jonson's Bartholomew Fair or even Middleton's A Chaste Maid in Cheapside or his A Mad World, My Masters.
While I am generally healing pretty well, I can't shake this cold, which is so annoying. It does add to my general run-down feeling and kind of crummy mood. (Not that day-to-day politics doesn't also add to my general malaise.)
I took a look at the David Milne catalogue (for the show that has opened up at the McMichael). I decided that I don't truly rate Milne all that highly as a painter. Certainly nowhere near the level of the Group of Seven (which is sort of the status accorded him at the AGO, though not at the McMichael). I think there were only 5 or 6 paintings in the catalog that I liked much at all (and one was apparently not even in the exhibit!). I just can't justify the carbon to go under those circumstances, even though there is a shuttle bus from downtown tomorrow and next Sunday. I'm also not regretting my decision to skip The Nether at Coal Mine.
I basically need to decide tomorrow if I am going to try to make The Duchess of Malfi reading next Sunday (it may already be sold out*). I think the next theatre outing after that will either be the Durang shorts at East Side Players or Churchill's Escaped Alone at Soulpepper. Then I'll try to see Yellowface at Victoria College. Mid Nov. will bring a concert or two and perhaps Video Cabaret doing a staged reading of Beckett's Happy Days. While this is not exactly feel-good theatre, I'm still reasonably excited by these offerings.
* It is sold out, and frankly the venue is in a terrible location for me (so I am pleased that when they around to Othello in Feb, it is in a different location). I've actually seen a full production of The Duchess of Malfi (here in Toronto all the way back in '93!), so I was always a bit on the fence. I'm definitely more in the mood for a full production, though I'm even more in the mood for a full production of Congreve's The Way of the World or Jonson's Bartholomew Fair or even Middleton's A Chaste Maid in Cheapside or his A Mad World, My Masters.
Saturday, October 13, 2018
Grumpy-time News
Not to be confused with Gorey's The Gashlycrumb Tinies... I suppose it is inevitable that the gratitude of not having any major broken bones is wearing off. Part of the problem is that my hands are still in quite a bit of pain. Some things, such as typing, aren't too bad, but writing, opening doors and even peeling oranges is extremely painful. I went back to the clinic and they said that the healing seemed to be going fairly well, but I should wait another two weeks to let my hands heal more completely. That definitely means no cycling (and almost nothing I can actually do at the gym). Also I'll have to put my other wood-working project (to build a Little Free Library) off until next spring. The doctor did say I could try heat compresses, so I picked up one of those at the mall today.
Still, this kind of casts a pall over this weekend, not that I had huge plans, other than to go to the symphony tomorrow. I did try to get rush tickets at Coal Mine last night. Even though I was first in line, they were completely sold out. I then stopped and asked myself if I really wanted to spend the time (next week) to try to see a piece of feel-bad theatre that will just bring me down (basically the plot of The Nether involves an internet salon where pedophiles can act out their impulses). And I told myself no -- life is tough enough already and it's going to be getting much worse in my lifetime as climate change really kicks in. I don't need to wallow in something that is just going to make me feel even worse about the world (and all the shitty people in it). I've decided that Hand to God (their third production this season) is also just going to be a huge downer, so I'm going to take a total pass on Coal Mine this year. I've seen a few provocative plays there, but really the only one that was unmissable (and didn't actually leave me more depressed than when I started) was Annie Baker's The Aliens.
I have been very slowly making my way through von Rezzori's The Death of My Brother Abel. I am very sorry to report that I don't like it at all; it's so pretentious and boring (all about a failed novelist who goes on and on and on about why he can't write his novel). A few months I would absolutely have jumped at the chance to get the NYRB edition of Abel and Cain that adds Kain to My Brother Abel. Well, it finally turned up as an Amazon pre-order. However, it's pretty clear I would have to force myself to get through it (and I have no interest in reading Abel a second time!). Sadly, I can't be 100% sure that any library here will pick this up, but I'll just have to rely on ILL and save my money for books that I at least have a chance of enjoying (such as the feel-good epic Stalingrad by Vasily Grossman...).
I could go on, but I'd just wind myself up even more. Now is as good a time as any for a nap...
Still, this kind of casts a pall over this weekend, not that I had huge plans, other than to go to the symphony tomorrow. I did try to get rush tickets at Coal Mine last night. Even though I was first in line, they were completely sold out. I then stopped and asked myself if I really wanted to spend the time (next week) to try to see a piece of feel-bad theatre that will just bring me down (basically the plot of The Nether involves an internet salon where pedophiles can act out their impulses). And I told myself no -- life is tough enough already and it's going to be getting much worse in my lifetime as climate change really kicks in. I don't need to wallow in something that is just going to make me feel even worse about the world (and all the shitty people in it). I've decided that Hand to God (their third production this season) is also just going to be a huge downer, so I'm going to take a total pass on Coal Mine this year. I've seen a few provocative plays there, but really the only one that was unmissable (and didn't actually leave me more depressed than when I started) was Annie Baker's The Aliens.
I have been very slowly making my way through von Rezzori's The Death of My Brother Abel. I am very sorry to report that I don't like it at all; it's so pretentious and boring (all about a failed novelist who goes on and on and on about why he can't write his novel). A few months I would absolutely have jumped at the chance to get the NYRB edition of Abel and Cain that adds Kain to My Brother Abel. Well, it finally turned up as an Amazon pre-order. However, it's pretty clear I would have to force myself to get through it (and I have no interest in reading Abel a second time!). Sadly, I can't be 100% sure that any library here will pick this up, but I'll just have to rely on ILL and save my money for books that I at least have a chance of enjoying (such as the feel-good epic Stalingrad by Vasily Grossman...).
I could go on, but I'd just wind myself up even more. Now is as good a time as any for a nap...
Friday, October 12, 2018
12th Canadian Challenge - 8th Review - Adjacentland
While I do admire Rabindranath Maharaj for trying something completely different from his books about the Canadian immigrant experience, I found Adjacentland to be frustrating and ultimately not worth the time it took me to read it. The set-up is intriguing in that the narrator wakes up in a more or less abandoned compound with no memory of his past. He tries to piece together his past from letters and drawings. Much is made of the fact that all the books in the library have been scrambled. He does encounter a few people who quiz him and ask him all manner of leading questions (and he tries to play it cool, not letting on how little he knows). Much is also made of the fact that his memory seems to reset every 3 months. The setting changes in various strange ways at each Stage of the book.
For better or worse, I feel Adjacentland shares with Cronenberg's eXistenZ the inability to commit to any ultimate ground truth. I personally felt what we find out at the end is very thin gruel, not worth the 300+ page running length of this novel, but other readers are a bit more supportive. Still, if I could go back a week in time, I would tell my younger self to pass on this book.
For better or worse, I feel Adjacentland shares with Cronenberg's eXistenZ the inability to commit to any ultimate ground truth. I personally felt what we find out at the end is very thin gruel, not worth the 300+ page running length of this novel, but other readers are a bit more supportive. Still, if I could go back a week in time, I would tell my younger self to pass on this book.
Beckett news
There is some breaking news that I neglected to include in my preview post. I neglected to mention that Video Cabaret is remounting Krapp's Last Tape. This runs through Oct. 21. Tickets available here.
While Video Cab is recovering from their last foray into the History plays, they probably will return to them in a year or two. Can hardly wait for that.
They will also do a rewrite of The Changeling, removing it from its insane asylum setting. Not sure I would go to that much trouble, and I'll be skipping this (I saw the full play at Stratford last season), but it might be of interest to some.
What really caught my eye is that in Nov. they are going to be doing a studio version of Happy Days. I assume they mean a staged reading, but hard to say. I'll fill in more details as they become available, but this was pretty exciting news.
While Video Cab is recovering from their last foray into the History plays, they probably will return to them in a year or two. Can hardly wait for that.
They will also do a rewrite of The Changeling, removing it from its insane asylum setting. Not sure I would go to that much trouble, and I'll be skipping this (I saw the full play at Stratford last season), but it might be of interest to some.
What really caught my eye is that in Nov. they are going to be doing a studio version of Happy Days. I assume they mean a staged reading, but hard to say. I'll fill in more details as they become available, but this was pretty exciting news.
Monday, October 8, 2018
12th Canadian Challenge - 7th Review - The Outer Harbour
This is the first short story collection by Wayde Compton, who is more established as a cultural critic and occasional poet. (I reviewed his earlier work here.) These stories are set in Vancouver (or on a new island that appears at the mouth of the Burrard Inlet). They range in time from 2001 to the very near future. Many, though not all, are interconnected. The overall approach is reminiscent of Mitchell's Cloud Atlas, though the scheme is not quite as rigorous.
To be honest, I probably did miss some of the connections, so I'm not sure I can exactly SPOIL the collection, but I will certainly be going into the over-aching theme of the collection, so be warned. Overall, I thought this was an interesting collection, but one that also riled me up and portrayed Vancouver in an unnecessarily unflattering light.
In the first story, we are introduced to a performance artist who refuses to self-identify as Asian or Indigenous or any other racial category. Her motivations aren't that clear, though she seems to want to undermine the idea that Canadians currently living in Canada have any kind of claim on the territory and/or can keep others out. Clearly, this is mostly wishful thinking on the part of the author.
In the next story, "The Lost Island," we see the State reacting, and grossly over-reacting, to a different sort of challenge. A small volcanic island has emerged in the mouth of the Burrard Inlet. The government attempts to keep everyone away, but a small group of activists decide to claim the island in the name of Native Rights. One of the activists spells out in the soil that they are armed, and shortly after this, an armed force "reconquers" the island, killing one of the activists. It would be pointless arguing that this doesn't happen in Canada, but I think it is also true that in the post-social media era, the federal government has gotten much better at simply waiting out activists and squatters (as for example happened on Parliament Hill). In this sense, I feel Compton is emphasizing the worst that could happen, as opposed to what would more likely happen.
There is a very droll follow-up story, "The Boom," told entirely through posters. First, there are protests around the fallen social justice warrior. Then the island is turned into luxury condos with a special water taxi to connect to downtown. The final images are the different apartment layouts.
I've forgotten why the developer went bankrupt, but eventually the BC government takes the island back and uses it as a holding pen for people who have some spacial-shifting ability (this is where SF implausibility comes into focus, though not for the last time, since Compton has ghosts running about the island in the final story!). I wouldn't say this thread is entirely satisfactory, but maybe 1/3 of the stories in the collection sort of deal with the real estate angle.
There is another major thread of two twins, who were conjoined at the head. They apparently learned to play instruments and were in a band. Then a rich jazz fan (who knew about their father) paid for an operation to separate the two. (This is recounted in "The Instrument.") One of the twins wants to become a film-maker, but the other one wants nothing to do with this project.
The artistic twin sets off on his own, getting involved with a quasi-cult-like group that re-enacts Medieval combat ("The Secret Commonwealth"). The payoff for this thread is discussed in "The Outer Harbour," though I wasn't sold on it.
There are a couple of odd pieces that don't entirely fit into the rest of the book. One of them ("The Front") actually includes an interview with the author, Wayde Compton. Basically, this lays out the idea that there are art installations that are designed to look like abandoned storefronts, but that will play music if one knows the key(s). There was also a piece ("Final Report") that was reminiscent of Stanislaw Lem, where the report was about all kinds of different grants could win, including some where the applicant did nothing but would be contacted if s/he was the winner. "Final Report" was amusing but did go on a few pages too long.
Clearly, this is definitely not a conventional short story collection. It is mostly aimed at people who are fairly invested in cultural theory and are more interested in ideas than in characters or plot per se. Whether this collection appeals to you is going to depend on how much you like experimental fiction. I'm not sorry I read Compton's The Outer Harbour, but it also isn't going to be part of my top 10 or 20 books of the year.
To be honest, I probably did miss some of the connections, so I'm not sure I can exactly SPOIL the collection, but I will certainly be going into the over-aching theme of the collection, so be warned. Overall, I thought this was an interesting collection, but one that also riled me up and portrayed Vancouver in an unnecessarily unflattering light.
In the first story, we are introduced to a performance artist who refuses to self-identify as Asian or Indigenous or any other racial category. Her motivations aren't that clear, though she seems to want to undermine the idea that Canadians currently living in Canada have any kind of claim on the territory and/or can keep others out. Clearly, this is mostly wishful thinking on the part of the author.
In the next story, "The Lost Island," we see the State reacting, and grossly over-reacting, to a different sort of challenge. A small volcanic island has emerged in the mouth of the Burrard Inlet. The government attempts to keep everyone away, but a small group of activists decide to claim the island in the name of Native Rights. One of the activists spells out in the soil that they are armed, and shortly after this, an armed force "reconquers" the island, killing one of the activists. It would be pointless arguing that this doesn't happen in Canada, but I think it is also true that in the post-social media era, the federal government has gotten much better at simply waiting out activists and squatters (as for example happened on Parliament Hill). In this sense, I feel Compton is emphasizing the worst that could happen, as opposed to what would more likely happen.
There is a very droll follow-up story, "The Boom," told entirely through posters. First, there are protests around the fallen social justice warrior. Then the island is turned into luxury condos with a special water taxi to connect to downtown. The final images are the different apartment layouts.
I've forgotten why the developer went bankrupt, but eventually the BC government takes the island back and uses it as a holding pen for people who have some spacial-shifting ability (this is where SF implausibility comes into focus, though not for the last time, since Compton has ghosts running about the island in the final story!). I wouldn't say this thread is entirely satisfactory, but maybe 1/3 of the stories in the collection sort of deal with the real estate angle.
There is another major thread of two twins, who were conjoined at the head. They apparently learned to play instruments and were in a band. Then a rich jazz fan (who knew about their father) paid for an operation to separate the two. (This is recounted in "The Instrument.") One of the twins wants to become a film-maker, but the other one wants nothing to do with this project.
The artistic twin sets off on his own, getting involved with a quasi-cult-like group that re-enacts Medieval combat ("The Secret Commonwealth"). The payoff for this thread is discussed in "The Outer Harbour," though I wasn't sold on it.
There are a couple of odd pieces that don't entirely fit into the rest of the book. One of them ("The Front") actually includes an interview with the author, Wayde Compton. Basically, this lays out the idea that there are art installations that are designed to look like abandoned storefronts, but that will play music if one knows the key(s). There was also a piece ("Final Report") that was reminiscent of Stanislaw Lem, where the report was about all kinds of different grants could win, including some where the applicant did nothing but would be contacted if s/he was the winner. "Final Report" was amusing but did go on a few pages too long.
Clearly, this is definitely not a conventional short story collection. It is mostly aimed at people who are fairly invested in cultural theory and are more interested in ideas than in characters or plot per se. Whether this collection appeals to you is going to depend on how much you like experimental fiction. I'm not sorry I read Compton's The Outer Harbour, but it also isn't going to be part of my top 10 or 20 books of the year.
Sunday, October 7, 2018
Frustrating (Theatre) Misses
I know it isn't possible to keep track of all theatre events, and even less possible to go to all of them. That said, I find it annoying when I find out (later) about productions that I missed out on by moving to Toronto just a few months too late, or, even worse, simply wasn't plugged in and missed them, even though I was already here.
I came quite close to being able to catch Soulpepper doing Angels in America when I came to Toronto to look for housing in 2014. Now I have actually seen this twice (once on Broadway right before the original run closed and then in an intimate Chicago performance), but I would have probably gone anyway. Strangely enough, I had the dates all wrong in my memory. I didn't come to Toronto until late summer 2014 (and then wasn't really settled enough to go to theatre until the fall). So there are definitely a few shows that ran in 2012 or 2013, but I wouldn't have been in any position to see them. This includes Acykbourn's The Norman Conquests at Soulpepper (and no chance they will be reprising this), Tennessee Williams' The Night of the Iguana at Hart House and then Yellowface also at Hart House but in 2011.
Beckett's Happy Days hasn't been on here for some time. Apparently, it was last seen at Theatre Passe Muraille in 2010 (when I wasn't even in BC), though this wasn't a great performance apparently. Likewise, I did not manage to catch a UBC production of Happy Days, or rather I wasn't willing to pay the inflated air fare back to Vancouver... I'm not sure why this is produced so rarely (nowhere in the world in 2018-19 according to Samuel French.) But wait...
In terms of shows I just missed, I should have been able to catch Unit 102's Lobby Hero in late 2014. This one is fairly annoying, but I'll probably eventually see it. I do recall a few years ago, I thought I would see American Hero in Detroit, but that fell through when it became obvious my daughter wasn't up for such a long car ride... I think I already moaned about missing out on several of Walker's Suburban Motel plays, both in Vancouver and then here at Ryerson (when they screwed up my reservation) but I also missed out on Moss Park and Tough in 2013 (at Theatre Passe Muraille?). Perhaps the single most annoying failed connection is Wajdi Mouawad's Dreams/(Reves) in 2016. That last one was just due to poor publicity on their part, as I found out about it far too late.
I came quite close to being able to catch Soulpepper doing Angels in America when I came to Toronto to look for housing in 2014. Now I have actually seen this twice (once on Broadway right before the original run closed and then in an intimate Chicago performance), but I would have probably gone anyway. Strangely enough, I had the dates all wrong in my memory. I didn't come to Toronto until late summer 2014 (and then wasn't really settled enough to go to theatre until the fall). So there are definitely a few shows that ran in 2012 or 2013, but I wouldn't have been in any position to see them. This includes Acykbourn's The Norman Conquests at Soulpepper (and no chance they will be reprising this), Tennessee Williams' The Night of the Iguana at Hart House and then Yellowface also at Hart House but in 2011.
Beckett's Happy Days hasn't been on here for some time. Apparently, it was last seen at Theatre Passe Muraille in 2010 (when I wasn't even in BC), though this wasn't a great performance apparently. Likewise, I did not manage to catch a UBC production of Happy Days, or rather I wasn't willing to pay the inflated air fare back to Vancouver... I'm not sure why this is produced so rarely (nowhere in the world in 2018-19 according to Samuel French.) But wait...
In terms of shows I just missed, I should have been able to catch Unit 102's Lobby Hero in late 2014. This one is fairly annoying, but I'll probably eventually see it. I do recall a few years ago, I thought I would see American Hero in Detroit, but that fell through when it became obvious my daughter wasn't up for such a long car ride... I think I already moaned about missing out on several of Walker's Suburban Motel plays, both in Vancouver and then here at Ryerson (when they screwed up my reservation) but I also missed out on Moss Park and Tough in 2013 (at Theatre Passe Muraille?). Perhaps the single most annoying failed connection is Wajdi Mouawad's Dreams/(Reves) in 2016. That last one was just due to poor publicity on their part, as I found out about it far too late.
Nerve Damage?
In general, my recovery is going along ok. I had my stitches out on Sat., and the last really ugly crust came off of my face. Most of the scars look like they'll heal up ok, aside from a deep cut on the bridge of my nose. Some days I still sleep pretty late, but I don't think I am in a perpetual fog or anything like that.
What I am concerned about is the general weakness in my hands. My tendons seem to have been damaged and, who knows, there might be some deeper nerve damage. I knew I couldn't do very much at the gym, aside from my leg squats and some stationary biking. But even trying to press the buttons to change the weight settings was painful and just too much. That seems like a bad sign... I think I'll hold off another week or so and then go back to the clinic for further advice if things aren't improving.
I was a bit surprised that I had actually lost weight (another 5 pounds), though some of it might be muscle mass that I don't want to be losing. Anyway, I'll just have to try to take it easy and see how I feel in another couple of weeks. I can type at any rate, so I guess all is not lost...
What I am concerned about is the general weakness in my hands. My tendons seem to have been damaged and, who knows, there might be some deeper nerve damage. I knew I couldn't do very much at the gym, aside from my leg squats and some stationary biking. But even trying to press the buttons to change the weight settings was painful and just too much. That seems like a bad sign... I think I'll hold off another week or so and then go back to the clinic for further advice if things aren't improving.
I was a bit surprised that I had actually lost weight (another 5 pounds), though some of it might be muscle mass that I don't want to be losing. Anyway, I'll just have to try to take it easy and see how I feel in another couple of weeks. I can type at any rate, so I guess all is not lost...
Fall 2018 (and Beyond) Preview - Easing Back In
I'm definitely scaling back on my cultural outings since the accident.
I decided that The Children at Canadian Stage was just not something that interested me, despite some relatively strong reviews. I was slightly more interested in Heathers at Hart House, though I have to admit, I am usually not a fan of musicals, particularly when they have been based on movies (and didn't originate as musicals). Hart House is actually doing yet another musical this season (Hair), and I might make it to that, but I haven't really decided.
I was closest to going to Gertrude and Alice at Buddies at Bad Times, but, for better or worse, I dug up some of Gertrude Stein's writings. I then remembered how much I dislike her writing (and her somewhat ludicrous contention that she was one of the only unrecognized female geniuses of her day). I can't remember now if I was thinking about this particular production when I introduced a terrible Cubist playwright into one of my SFYS scripts. Nonetheless, I am quite sure I would not actually enjoy the play and getting more rest is a better use of my Sunday. (Interestingly, there is now quite a swirling controversy over Stein and her politics. She was resolutely anti-New Deal and close friends with key officials in the Vichy regime. Whether this actually makes her a fascist sympathizer or simply someone with bad taste in friends is open for debate. It does make me even less interested in spending a couple of hours in her company...)
In terms of art exhibits, the photojournalistic show Anthropocene has opened. I'll probably go tomorrow. This runs through Jan., so there is no rush.
I believe this makes the third year in a row that I missed Nuit Blanche. Well, I had a pretty good excuse this year. I'll consider going next year more seriously.
There is a pretty interesting exhibit at Ryerson on Gordon Parks and Flavio, a young boy he befriended in Rio, and the impact Parks had on the boy's life. It's a bit too complex to convey in just a paragraph. I may come back to this later on. Anyway, this exhibit runs through early Dec.
I just found out that a David Milne exhibit has opened up at the McMichael Gallery. I don't love Milne's work, but I'll think about swinging by. It turns out that the McMichael art bus runs three more Sundays, though that would still mean missing the Stephen Andrews exhibit, which opens in Nov. It's a bit of a tough call, but not having to make the drive is certainly appealing...
I'll mostly be discussing theatre openings in the rest of this post.
The Nether is opening at Coal Mine this weekend. I think this is pretty dark (about virtual child pornography) and I haven't really decided if I will go. I'm also not sure about Hand to God, which they are doing in April. In general, Coal Mine is putting on shows that are just a bit too challenging to my taste.
I believe next weekend, The Wolves opens at Crows Nest. I expect to go see that.
Middletown by Will Eno will be at Crows Nest in November, but I will skip that. I already saw this at Steppenwolf in Chicago, and I thought it was ok but not great.
Late Oct./early Nov. East Side Players is putting on 4 shorts by Christopher Durang, including The Actor's Nightmare. I'm pretty disappointed that they aren't doing Goodnight Desdemona later in the season (substituting in Shelagh Stephenson's The Memory of Water). I may still subscribe for the season, though this will be my only subscription this year. I just don't see enough of interest elsewhere, so I'll be doing rush tickets and one-offs.*
I'm leaning towards seeing the Toronto Irish Players do Dancing at Lughnasa in late October, even though I already did see this in Chicago.
York University is not doing a short run of Rivera's Marisol in mid to late Nov., despite booking the rights. That's unfortunate. I'm not sure it is has played often in Toronto. There was a full production at Theatre Passe Muraille all the way back in 1997(!) and then Seven Siblings did a staged reading last year, but that may be it. I've seen this several times, but get something different out of it each time. I might go yet again the next time it actually turns up. I also found that Cloud Tectonics has only made it here as a Fringe show. Anyway, the college productions can be kind of flaky. UC Follies or Trinity was supposed to do Arcadia last year but bailed, which left me pretty sad. However, there is supposedly a production of Hwang's Yellow Face at Victoria College, but it's a bit under the radar. I can now confirm that they held auditions, and supposedly the show will go up November 1st, 2nd, and 3rd in the Cat’s Eye Student Pub.
As a side note, a few promising companies have all but disappeared. I haven't seen anything about Wolf Manor. Shakespeare Bash'D and Seven Siblings have retrenched a bit but still are doing a few things this season and next. I'm on the fence for the staged reading of Duchess of Malfi, but I'll probably check out Othello in Feb.
At Canadian Stage there is a small chance I will see Every Brilliant Thing in early Dec., and then I may check out their wordless play, Bigre, in April. But as is fairly typical, I usually don't see much that interests me at Canadian Stage.
Since the shake-up at Soulpepper, I generally am less interested in their offerings. They've decided to turn their back on Acykbourn for instance and are pursuing a lot more politically informed works, most of which leave me cold. I will check out Caryl Churchill's Escaped Alone in late October, and maybe the evening of Pinter shorts in Feb. I will probably skip Frayn's Copenhagen in April, though I'll decide closer to the time. I will definitely be skipping Tracy Letts's August: Osage County and Tarell McCraney's The Brothers Size. Nothing wrong with either of these plays, but I already saw the definitive performances in Chicago.
Supposedly there will be a production of Posner's Stupid F*cking Bird at the University of Waterloo in early Nov., but this is a bit far for me to go, even though it is an interesting play.
Even a bit further afield, there is a one day only staged reading of Steven Dietz's Bloomsday in Kitchener. That's way too far to go (and I think it's Wednesday evening). Remy Bumppo is doing a professional production in Chicago next year, but not at a time I think I could go.
Depending on how the US midterms go, I might be willing to travel a bit further afield. I've been trying to see Dietz's Yankee Tavern for some time. It will be playing in Rochester, NY, next Feb., and I might be willing to bus it for that.
In 2019, Studio 180 Theatre is doing Oslo. I might go. I have to see how I am feeling and if I am up for a political play.
The single most interesting 2019 production to date is someone will put on Kiss of the Spider Woman in the Don Jail. I just have to check that out.
Then in terms of really advance notice, Lynn Nottage's Sweat had its performance at Hamilton's Theatre Aquarius delayed by an entire year! Now it will go up in Feb. 2020. Finally, Studio 180 is doing Paula Vogel's Indecent in March-April 2020, though if I am really itching to see this, it will be playing in Montreal in 2019.
All in all, I'd say I am scaling back. I don't feel obligated to go to the theatre to support companies if I don't like the plays they are putting on, and I am clearly less interested in what is uppermost on most theatre companies' minds these days (i.e. fairly dreary dissections of intersectional politics). Of course, I am in a pretty poor frame of mind these days, and I may feel better (and maybe even more open minded) as my body heals up.
* I'm going to be blunt. There is nothing at all of interest for me at Tarragon, and there wasn't last season either. It is completely slipping off my radar. Several of the other established companies like Factory and Theatre Passe Muraille are inundated with "woke" plays that turn me off as well. Maybe it's just as well that I save my money and reserve my time for other things I enjoy more.
I decided that The Children at Canadian Stage was just not something that interested me, despite some relatively strong reviews. I was slightly more interested in Heathers at Hart House, though I have to admit, I am usually not a fan of musicals, particularly when they have been based on movies (and didn't originate as musicals). Hart House is actually doing yet another musical this season (Hair), and I might make it to that, but I haven't really decided.
I was closest to going to Gertrude and Alice at Buddies at Bad Times, but, for better or worse, I dug up some of Gertrude Stein's writings. I then remembered how much I dislike her writing (and her somewhat ludicrous contention that she was one of the only unrecognized female geniuses of her day). I can't remember now if I was thinking about this particular production when I introduced a terrible Cubist playwright into one of my SFYS scripts. Nonetheless, I am quite sure I would not actually enjoy the play and getting more rest is a better use of my Sunday. (Interestingly, there is now quite a swirling controversy over Stein and her politics. She was resolutely anti-New Deal and close friends with key officials in the Vichy regime. Whether this actually makes her a fascist sympathizer or simply someone with bad taste in friends is open for debate. It does make me even less interested in spending a couple of hours in her company...)
In terms of art exhibits, the photojournalistic show Anthropocene has opened. I'll probably go tomorrow. This runs through Jan., so there is no rush.
I believe this makes the third year in a row that I missed Nuit Blanche. Well, I had a pretty good excuse this year. I'll consider going next year more seriously.
There is a pretty interesting exhibit at Ryerson on Gordon Parks and Flavio, a young boy he befriended in Rio, and the impact Parks had on the boy's life. It's a bit too complex to convey in just a paragraph. I may come back to this later on. Anyway, this exhibit runs through early Dec.
I just found out that a David Milne exhibit has opened up at the McMichael Gallery. I don't love Milne's work, but I'll think about swinging by. It turns out that the McMichael art bus runs three more Sundays, though that would still mean missing the Stephen Andrews exhibit, which opens in Nov. It's a bit of a tough call, but not having to make the drive is certainly appealing...
I'll mostly be discussing theatre openings in the rest of this post.
The Nether is opening at Coal Mine this weekend. I think this is pretty dark (about virtual child pornography) and I haven't really decided if I will go. I'm also not sure about Hand to God, which they are doing in April. In general, Coal Mine is putting on shows that are just a bit too challenging to my taste.
I believe next weekend, The Wolves opens at Crows Nest. I expect to go see that.
Middletown by Will Eno will be at Crows Nest in November, but I will skip that. I already saw this at Steppenwolf in Chicago, and I thought it was ok but not great.
Late Oct./early Nov. East Side Players is putting on 4 shorts by Christopher Durang, including The Actor's Nightmare. I'm pretty disappointed that they aren't doing Goodnight Desdemona later in the season (substituting in Shelagh Stephenson's The Memory of Water). I may still subscribe for the season, though this will be my only subscription this year. I just don't see enough of interest elsewhere, so I'll be doing rush tickets and one-offs.*
I'm leaning towards seeing the Toronto Irish Players do Dancing at Lughnasa in late October, even though I already did see this in Chicago.
York University is not doing a short run of Rivera's Marisol in mid to late Nov., despite booking the rights. That's unfortunate. I'm not sure it is has played often in Toronto. There was a full production at Theatre Passe Muraille all the way back in 1997(!) and then Seven Siblings did a staged reading last year, but that may be it. I've seen this several times, but get something different out of it each time. I might go yet again the next time it actually turns up. I also found that Cloud Tectonics has only made it here as a Fringe show. Anyway, the college productions can be kind of flaky. UC Follies or Trinity was supposed to do Arcadia last year but bailed, which left me pretty sad. However, there is supposedly a production of Hwang's Yellow Face at Victoria College, but it's a bit under the radar. I can now confirm that they held auditions, and supposedly the show will go up November 1st, 2nd, and 3rd in the Cat’s Eye Student Pub.
As a side note, a few promising companies have all but disappeared. I haven't seen anything about Wolf Manor. Shakespeare Bash'D and Seven Siblings have retrenched a bit but still are doing a few things this season and next. I'm on the fence for the staged reading of Duchess of Malfi, but I'll probably check out Othello in Feb.
At Canadian Stage there is a small chance I will see Every Brilliant Thing in early Dec., and then I may check out their wordless play, Bigre, in April. But as is fairly typical, I usually don't see much that interests me at Canadian Stage.
Since the shake-up at Soulpepper, I generally am less interested in their offerings. They've decided to turn their back on Acykbourn for instance and are pursuing a lot more politically informed works, most of which leave me cold. I will check out Caryl Churchill's Escaped Alone in late October, and maybe the evening of Pinter shorts in Feb. I will probably skip Frayn's Copenhagen in April, though I'll decide closer to the time. I will definitely be skipping Tracy Letts's August: Osage County and Tarell McCraney's The Brothers Size. Nothing wrong with either of these plays, but I already saw the definitive performances in Chicago.
Supposedly there will be a production of Posner's Stupid F*cking Bird at the University of Waterloo in early Nov., but this is a bit far for me to go, even though it is an interesting play.
Even a bit further afield, there is a one day only staged reading of Steven Dietz's Bloomsday in Kitchener. That's way too far to go (and I think it's Wednesday evening). Remy Bumppo is doing a professional production in Chicago next year, but not at a time I think I could go.
Depending on how the US midterms go, I might be willing to travel a bit further afield. I've been trying to see Dietz's Yankee Tavern for some time. It will be playing in Rochester, NY, next Feb., and I might be willing to bus it for that.
In 2019, Studio 180 Theatre is doing Oslo. I might go. I have to see how I am feeling and if I am up for a political play.
The single most interesting 2019 production to date is someone will put on Kiss of the Spider Woman in the Don Jail. I just have to check that out.
Then in terms of really advance notice, Lynn Nottage's Sweat had its performance at Hamilton's Theatre Aquarius delayed by an entire year! Now it will go up in Feb. 2020. Finally, Studio 180 is doing Paula Vogel's Indecent in March-April 2020, though if I am really itching to see this, it will be playing in Montreal in 2019.
All in all, I'd say I am scaling back. I don't feel obligated to go to the theatre to support companies if I don't like the plays they are putting on, and I am clearly less interested in what is uppermost on most theatre companies' minds these days (i.e. fairly dreary dissections of intersectional politics). Of course, I am in a pretty poor frame of mind these days, and I may feel better (and maybe even more open minded) as my body heals up.
* I'm going to be blunt. There is nothing at all of interest for me at Tarragon, and there wasn't last season either. It is completely slipping off my radar. Several of the other established companies like Factory and Theatre Passe Muraille are inundated with "woke" plays that turn me off as well. Maybe it's just as well that I save my money and reserve my time for other things I enjoy more.
Friday, October 5, 2018
Back on the Bike
Still a lot of fairly painful healing going on. My vision is more or less back to normal, though I found while reading on the subway, it was still easier to close one eye. There is still a bit too much pressure behind my eyes, and I am surely not getting enough sleep. I should be able to sleep in a fair bit this weekend, and then on Monday as well (since we aren't having any family over for Canadian Thanksgiving).
I put in a full day of work on Thurs., then went over to the bike shop at the end of the day. I picked out a new helmet. I found that I wasn't super steady on the bike going down Jones. In part I didn't have a separate bike bag. But mostly the pavement still sucks, even in the bike lane, and I could feel all the bumps very intensely. I found I had to keep swerving to avoid pot holes. In addition, my hands are still quite weak and braking was a challenge. Since Jones is steep, that meant riding the brakes a lot. The only upside to the memory loss (surrounding the accident) is that it is so complete I have no idea what happened and am not all that fussed about getting back on the bike, whereas I would probably be more "gun shy" if I remembered the accident and falling off the bike. The limiting factor is that I don't want to try to ride for any significant distance until my hands have healed up more, since it just won't be safe to try to go out before that.
I put in a full day of work on Thurs., then went over to the bike shop at the end of the day. I picked out a new helmet. I found that I wasn't super steady on the bike going down Jones. In part I didn't have a separate bike bag. But mostly the pavement still sucks, even in the bike lane, and I could feel all the bumps very intensely. I found I had to keep swerving to avoid pot holes. In addition, my hands are still quite weak and braking was a challenge. Since Jones is steep, that meant riding the brakes a lot. The only upside to the memory loss (surrounding the accident) is that it is so complete I have no idea what happened and am not all that fussed about getting back on the bike, whereas I would probably be more "gun shy" if I remembered the accident and falling off the bike. The limiting factor is that I don't want to try to ride for any significant distance until my hands have healed up more, since it just won't be safe to try to go out before that.
12th Canadian Challenge - 6th Review - Noise
Russell Smith's Noise could definitely be read as a book-end to How Insensitive, his novel published four years earlier. In this one, the main character, James, is a successful magazine writer. One can imagine that if Ted (from How Insensitive) sticks it out and got a few lucky breaks, then he might well be in that position of a writer struggling with too many deadlines (and too many temptations to deal with -- in addition to artworld openings, he is apparently also a food critic and gets to go to all the chic restaurants). It is all a bit too idealized, and this world of the pampered writer (if it ever existed at all outside of Smith's imagination) has completely collapsed with the decline of independent magazines. Indeed, the idea that writers should get paid for their work, rather than just putting it out on the web ("on spec"), seems almost quaint. That really isn't my beef with the novel, however. There are several aspects to the plot and the main characters that I simply either didn't like or didn't believe, and I found this to be an inferior work compared to How Insensitive.
SPOILERS
There is something almost cinematic about this novel, perhaps in the John Hughes tradition. First off, we are meant to believe that this writer is so busy juggling deadlines that he completely avoids all contact with his landlord for over six months, while his building is sold out from under him and the rest of the tenants abandon ship. He only turns up at the last minute, barely able to save his belongings from the skip, and he needs to turn to his gay pal, De Courcy, to save his bacon. At a wacky avant garde art installation, he runs into a totally cool photographer, Nicola, who he manages to impress by taking her to the opening of an ultra hip restaurant (where she proceeds to get wasted and blow his cover as a food critic). Not totally deterred by this, he scores an exciting cover profile story of a Canadian regional poet for a hip New York magazine. He manages to get the photographer added as part of the package. This leads to one of the truly funny set pieces, where it turns out that the poet lives in Burlington (and no longer out in Manitoba). On a slightly more serious note, the poet is in an alcoholic daze (and probably has slipped into dementia) during the entire interview, though his wife manages to salvage the situation.
Then follows a crazy week of James just beating his own writing block, but the photographer going underground and refusing to send her shots in. (While I may be mistaken, I think there is also Canadian Thanksgiving, just around the corner here, and there is another amusing piece where James goes home to rural Ontario, and eventually De Courcy comes looking for him and snaps him out of his funk. James also has a quick tumble in bed with Alison, an ex-girlfriend.) In the end, James actually has to break into Nicola's apartment to get the negatives and take them for processing. While I realize she is supposed to be a total flake, this complete inability to deal with a simple assignment felt completely false. In the end, her photos are a huge hit and his story has been cut to shreds by the editors to the point he wants to disown it. Smith goes a bit overboard on the satire at this point. Alison turns up in Toronto, with her baby in town (from a previous marriage, not from the Thanksgiving tryst), but James is starting to back away from the hipster life that she finds entrancing (like a moth to the flame). I feel that Smith is more than a little unfair to Alison in this section, since there is nothing unreasonable about her interests and actions, but again, the requirements of satire are uppermost here. I had a sinking feeling throughout the novel that De Courcy was harbouring secret feelings for James, and indeed, he declares his feelings and is turned down. I was so disappointed with this turn of events on so many levels. My interest in the novel had been waning for some time, and this just hammered in the last nails in the coffin. So unnecessary and not really that believable. In the final few pages, James escapes from all his distractions. On the strength of his story turning up in a New York magazine (with super artistic photos) he lands a monthly local column to write about classical music for one of the local magazines, which will pay enough to cover rent and groceries. Sort of like a fairy tale ending, though of course one that would only last another 10 years max, before the bottom fell out of the magazine industry.
It's difficult to rate this novel. Basically, there are two amusing set pieces, and a lot of wacky (and highly implausible) goings on about the Toronto art scene in the mid 90s, which mostly just exhausted me. In addition, the gay man pining for his straight best friend spoiled the novel so much that I found Noise far inferior to How Insensitive. But if you lived through Toronto in the 90s, this novel might trigger your nostalgia, for better and worse.
SPOILERS
There is something almost cinematic about this novel, perhaps in the John Hughes tradition. First off, we are meant to believe that this writer is so busy juggling deadlines that he completely avoids all contact with his landlord for over six months, while his building is sold out from under him and the rest of the tenants abandon ship. He only turns up at the last minute, barely able to save his belongings from the skip, and he needs to turn to his gay pal, De Courcy, to save his bacon. At a wacky avant garde art installation, he runs into a totally cool photographer, Nicola, who he manages to impress by taking her to the opening of an ultra hip restaurant (where she proceeds to get wasted and blow his cover as a food critic). Not totally deterred by this, he scores an exciting cover profile story of a Canadian regional poet for a hip New York magazine. He manages to get the photographer added as part of the package. This leads to one of the truly funny set pieces, where it turns out that the poet lives in Burlington (and no longer out in Manitoba). On a slightly more serious note, the poet is in an alcoholic daze (and probably has slipped into dementia) during the entire interview, though his wife manages to salvage the situation.
Then follows a crazy week of James just beating his own writing block, but the photographer going underground and refusing to send her shots in. (While I may be mistaken, I think there is also Canadian Thanksgiving, just around the corner here, and there is another amusing piece where James goes home to rural Ontario, and eventually De Courcy comes looking for him and snaps him out of his funk. James also has a quick tumble in bed with Alison, an ex-girlfriend.) In the end, James actually has to break into Nicola's apartment to get the negatives and take them for processing. While I realize she is supposed to be a total flake, this complete inability to deal with a simple assignment felt completely false. In the end, her photos are a huge hit and his story has been cut to shreds by the editors to the point he wants to disown it. Smith goes a bit overboard on the satire at this point. Alison turns up in Toronto, with her baby in town (from a previous marriage, not from the Thanksgiving tryst), but James is starting to back away from the hipster life that she finds entrancing (like a moth to the flame). I feel that Smith is more than a little unfair to Alison in this section, since there is nothing unreasonable about her interests and actions, but again, the requirements of satire are uppermost here. I had a sinking feeling throughout the novel that De Courcy was harbouring secret feelings for James, and indeed, he declares his feelings and is turned down. I was so disappointed with this turn of events on so many levels. My interest in the novel had been waning for some time, and this just hammered in the last nails in the coffin. So unnecessary and not really that believable. In the final few pages, James escapes from all his distractions. On the strength of his story turning up in a New York magazine (with super artistic photos) he lands a monthly local column to write about classical music for one of the local magazines, which will pay enough to cover rent and groceries. Sort of like a fairy tale ending, though of course one that would only last another 10 years max, before the bottom fell out of the magazine industry.
It's difficult to rate this novel. Basically, there are two amusing set pieces, and a lot of wacky (and highly implausible) goings on about the Toronto art scene in the mid 90s, which mostly just exhausted me. In addition, the gay man pining for his straight best friend spoiled the novel so much that I found Noise far inferior to How Insensitive. But if you lived through Toronto in the 90s, this novel might trigger your nostalgia, for better and worse.
Thursday, October 4, 2018
12th Canadian Challenge - 5th Review - How Insensitive
I started with one of Russell Smith's later short story collections (Confidence) and am finally circling around to his first novels, when he was very much the enfant terrible of the Toronto's literary scene. His more recent work focuses on the artists who never grow up and just look ridiculous trying to hang with the younger crowd, whereas his first works just plunge into the lives of these 20 somethings trying to make it in Toronto. The humour is more about the pretentiousness of the scene, and the transitory nature of trendiness, rather than middle aged men (and it is always men) trying to reclaim their youth.
I'll review Noise separately, but it strikes me as that novel is about someone who has succeeded in riding the trends and is a successful critic with a number of side hustles and gigs. It is far less clear whether the main characters in How Insensitive will succeed in breaking into Toronto's arts community. While the plot is a bit different, it is reminiscent of The Out-of-Towners. There will be minor SPOILERS that follow, though it is worth noting that plot is secondary in this satire.
SPOILERS
How Insensitive begins with Ted coming to Toronto on a train from the East. He runs across Max, who was once a big mover and shaker in the Toronto club/restaurant/happening scene. Max has a slightly ambiguous role in the novel. He strikes me just a bit like the demonic double in Hogg's Private Memoirs in the sense that Max keeps stringing Ted along with offers of starting up a new magazine, but he can't follow through on any of them.* (I guess the fact that he now lives in Oshawa is supposed to tip off the reader that Max has truly fallen from grace...)
Ted is going to stay with John, a college friend who has recently dropped out of a mainstream career and is now following "the scene" and waiting to make a killing in some unspecified way with his uncle. The house is full of youngsters on the make -- bike couriers, actors,** models, and one quasi-hermit who is into computers. Ted takes over a room when a model takes an assignment in Japan. Basically, Ted tries to fit into this new scene, going to new trendy restaurants and trying to get a job in the arts (while living off his parents' money). He eventually decides that he can't really keep chasing after one young woman because he can't keep paying cover at all the ritzy clubs she goes to. It wouldn't be a coming-of-age story without some additional romantic entanglements and disentanglements...
Eventually, John decides he needs to go back to work, and lands a job in Ottawa of all places. Ted briefly takes a job as a technical writer (for IBM or a firm like that), though he ditches that after a few soul-killing weeks. He is all but set on going back home when he runs into Max one more time, ending up in another wild goose chase. Despite everything, it seems that Ted will try to stick it out in Toronto for a bit longer, and he breaks in a new housemate.
This is definitely an amusing novel, but one written for readers who consider Toronto the centre of the universe. I can't imagine anyone from Montreal really relating to the novel, for instance. It also is a bit of its time (early 90s Toronto) when there were loft conversions and crazy art openings all over the place. While there is a bit of that here and there in today's Toronto, it is a lot rarer in a very gentrified city. I only experienced a small bit of this when I was in Toronto in 1993-94 (for instance, going to a theatre event held under the Gardiner) but just enough that How Insensitive does speak to me and invokes some nostalgic feelings. I can't guarantee it will work for you.
* It's a little puzzling trying to work out Max's motivations (like leaving phone numbers that don't connect), though he may just want to pretend he is still in the game, when he may just be too burnt out to pull off another big happening or magazine or club, and who better to try to impress but an out-of-town rube?
** I had forgotten one of the more interesting parts of the book where Ted writes a play for a struggling theatre company, and the actor changes it into a multimedia production. Ted is initially horrified but realizes that the actor really knows what the arts community is into. The success of this piece as reviewed in Next (presumably a pseudonym for Now) leads Ted into some other strange adventures.
I'll review Noise separately, but it strikes me as that novel is about someone who has succeeded in riding the trends and is a successful critic with a number of side hustles and gigs. It is far less clear whether the main characters in How Insensitive will succeed in breaking into Toronto's arts community. While the plot is a bit different, it is reminiscent of The Out-of-Towners. There will be minor SPOILERS that follow, though it is worth noting that plot is secondary in this satire.
SPOILERS
How Insensitive begins with Ted coming to Toronto on a train from the East. He runs across Max, who was once a big mover and shaker in the Toronto club/restaurant/happening scene. Max has a slightly ambiguous role in the novel. He strikes me just a bit like the demonic double in Hogg's Private Memoirs in the sense that Max keeps stringing Ted along with offers of starting up a new magazine, but he can't follow through on any of them.* (I guess the fact that he now lives in Oshawa is supposed to tip off the reader that Max has truly fallen from grace...)
Ted is going to stay with John, a college friend who has recently dropped out of a mainstream career and is now following "the scene" and waiting to make a killing in some unspecified way with his uncle. The house is full of youngsters on the make -- bike couriers, actors,** models, and one quasi-hermit who is into computers. Ted takes over a room when a model takes an assignment in Japan. Basically, Ted tries to fit into this new scene, going to new trendy restaurants and trying to get a job in the arts (while living off his parents' money). He eventually decides that he can't really keep chasing after one young woman because he can't keep paying cover at all the ritzy clubs she goes to. It wouldn't be a coming-of-age story without some additional romantic entanglements and disentanglements...
Eventually, John decides he needs to go back to work, and lands a job in Ottawa of all places. Ted briefly takes a job as a technical writer (for IBM or a firm like that), though he ditches that after a few soul-killing weeks. He is all but set on going back home when he runs into Max one more time, ending up in another wild goose chase. Despite everything, it seems that Ted will try to stick it out in Toronto for a bit longer, and he breaks in a new housemate.
This is definitely an amusing novel, but one written for readers who consider Toronto the centre of the universe. I can't imagine anyone from Montreal really relating to the novel, for instance. It also is a bit of its time (early 90s Toronto) when there were loft conversions and crazy art openings all over the place. While there is a bit of that here and there in today's Toronto, it is a lot rarer in a very gentrified city. I only experienced a small bit of this when I was in Toronto in 1993-94 (for instance, going to a theatre event held under the Gardiner) but just enough that How Insensitive does speak to me and invokes some nostalgic feelings. I can't guarantee it will work for you.
* It's a little puzzling trying to work out Max's motivations (like leaving phone numbers that don't connect), though he may just want to pretend he is still in the game, when he may just be too burnt out to pull off another big happening or magazine or club, and who better to try to impress but an out-of-town rube?
** I had forgotten one of the more interesting parts of the book where Ted writes a play for a struggling theatre company, and the actor changes it into a multimedia production. Ted is initially horrified but realizes that the actor really knows what the arts community is into. The success of this piece as reviewed in Next (presumably a pseudonym for Now) leads Ted into some other strange adventures.
Monday, October 1, 2018
Updates
I guess I'll touch on a number of things here, some of which I only barely mentioned previously in the blog, but that's my prerogative.
I seem to be coming along relatively well in terms of my overall recovery. A few of the worst scabs fell off and have been replaced with thinner scabs, though they still itch. The worst in terms of nagging pain is the inside of my mouth, where my teeth tore up my inner lip. Anyway, here is what I look like after a few nights back from the hospital.
I had been planning on going to the dentist fairly soon, but I may want to hold off until the teeth feel like they have resettled. I am only occasionally getting headaches, and mostly when I have been starting at screens too long (so I'll keep this fairly short). I haven't tried reading from a book at all. I am still having some issues with right eye/left eye coordination for close-in tasks, so I assume if I do any sewing at all it will be with one eye closed. I'm obviously concerned, though I would say that the issue seems to be getting better. (I'll probably try reading a bit tonight and see how that goes.) Given what could have happened (i.e. losing an eye), this seems manageable. Clearly, I wish I could turn back time and not have whatever happened happen to me, but I'll try to be reasonably stoic for once.
I'm not really up on the details, but Canada and the US have come to some terms on NAFTA pt. 2. It is annoying, though not surprising that copyright was extended to 70 years past the author's death (up from 50), though this may have occurred anyway based on the TPP and CETA agreements. There is also supposed to be a slight increase in how much dairy can reach us from the US (my goodness, what a fuss Trump kicked up over that), but apparently some version of Chapter 19 dispute resolution is still in place. It may be the best deal that could have been wrested from the Oompa-Loompa in Chief. I don't think it will really impact me.* If I ever really did put a poetry anthology together, I would have had to gather the information on authors assuming that US rules were in place.
I don't even want to discuss the Supreme Court fiasco. It's just so sickening that the Republicans won't die off soon enough, but they still manage to game the system in ways that gives them far too much power. I guess in the end they know it is about power (and results) and are not particularly interested in their reputations. If there isn't a pretty seismic shake-up in Nov., then I won't be going back any time soon. It's too much like watching the decline of Imperial Rome.
* I'm actually more annoyed than I should be over the Liberals playing it too cute over the de minimis level. I've read that the tax and duty-free level went from $20 (basically the lowest in the Western world) to $40, but only if you don't use Canada Post. That may be incorrect reporting, however, and I'll wait to see before I truly get outraged. This article suggests the duty-free limit increased substantially, though the tax-free level only doubled. That certainly seems more reasonable. I don't actually buy all that much from the States (mostly books or LPs you can't find here), and usually I have them go to family in the States for pick-up later, because international shipping costs have gotten so outrageous over the past 10 years. In general, it seems Canadians simply cannot compete on an even field -- and can't even get rid of their own internal trade barriers. In addition to not reaping that much benefit from NAFTA (aside from the auto manufacturers), European firms are taking advantage of CETA far more than Canadian firms. Just as well that I am not a Canadian nationalist...
I seem to be coming along relatively well in terms of my overall recovery. A few of the worst scabs fell off and have been replaced with thinner scabs, though they still itch. The worst in terms of nagging pain is the inside of my mouth, where my teeth tore up my inner lip. Anyway, here is what I look like after a few nights back from the hospital.
I had been planning on going to the dentist fairly soon, but I may want to hold off until the teeth feel like they have resettled. I am only occasionally getting headaches, and mostly when I have been starting at screens too long (so I'll keep this fairly short). I haven't tried reading from a book at all. I am still having some issues with right eye/left eye coordination for close-in tasks, so I assume if I do any sewing at all it will be with one eye closed. I'm obviously concerned, though I would say that the issue seems to be getting better. (I'll probably try reading a bit tonight and see how that goes.) Given what could have happened (i.e. losing an eye), this seems manageable. Clearly, I wish I could turn back time and not have whatever happened happen to me, but I'll try to be reasonably stoic for once.
I'm not really up on the details, but Canada and the US have come to some terms on NAFTA pt. 2. It is annoying, though not surprising that copyright was extended to 70 years past the author's death (up from 50), though this may have occurred anyway based on the TPP and CETA agreements. There is also supposed to be a slight increase in how much dairy can reach us from the US (my goodness, what a fuss Trump kicked up over that), but apparently some version of Chapter 19 dispute resolution is still in place. It may be the best deal that could have been wrested from the Oompa-Loompa in Chief. I don't think it will really impact me.* If I ever really did put a poetry anthology together, I would have had to gather the information on authors assuming that US rules were in place.
I don't even want to discuss the Supreme Court fiasco. It's just so sickening that the Republicans won't die off soon enough, but they still manage to game the system in ways that gives them far too much power. I guess in the end they know it is about power (and results) and are not particularly interested in their reputations. If there isn't a pretty seismic shake-up in Nov., then I won't be going back any time soon. It's too much like watching the decline of Imperial Rome.
* I'm actually more annoyed than I should be over the Liberals playing it too cute over the de minimis level. I've read that the tax and duty-free level went from $20 (basically the lowest in the Western world) to $40, but only if you don't use Canada Post. That may be incorrect reporting, however, and I'll wait to see before I truly get outraged. This article suggests the duty-free limit increased substantially, though the tax-free level only doubled. That certainly seems more reasonable. I don't actually buy all that much from the States (mostly books or LPs you can't find here), and usually I have them go to family in the States for pick-up later, because international shipping costs have gotten so outrageous over the past 10 years. In general, it seems Canadians simply cannot compete on an even field -- and can't even get rid of their own internal trade barriers. In addition to not reaping that much benefit from NAFTA (aside from the auto manufacturers), European firms are taking advantage of CETA far more than Canadian firms. Just as well that I am not a Canadian nationalist...
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