Red Cedar
More apocalypse, less angst
Economies and elections.
So I guess it’s no surprise, really, that the US stock market had a major meltdown yesterday. I mean, according to friends of mine who pay attention to this stuff, it’s been coming for a long time and was entirely predictable. Even to someone as economically-challenged as me, the whole subprime mortgage crisis which fueled this mess, seemed obviously set to happen from the get-go of “cheap” mortgages and no money down. And the fact that these investment companies, you know – the ones who encouraged impoverished people into homes they could not afford through shoddy lending policy, have suddenly spiraled into bankruptcy is (to be quite honest) pretty satisfying to watch. If only their failures didn’t screw the rest of us so bad at the same time.
I read an article today in the Globe and Mail about how this episode marks the end of conservative (unregulated) economics, at least for now. The last liberal economic cycle of course grew from the Great Depression and lasted until the 1970s. This economic turn, if not as deep as the Great Depression certainly gives some pause to examine the US government’s irresponsibility in allowing corporations to set their own rules for so long. In the end I suppose a few people make millions (or billions) but that handful at the top doesn’t possess enough votes to keep their own power in office, and most people in investment banking (even at the top of the corporate management chain) are cleaning out their desks today. On the precipice of an election. That can’t be good for the incumbent party who claim the government has no role in managing the economy. (Note that Bush and co. are trying to deflect everyone’s attention onto the hurricane damage in Texas today.)
So I’d like to believe that perhaps this collapse is the hopeful thing we’ve been waiting for, the one that exposes the Bush Republicans and their cronies (like Stephen Harper) for the dangerous buffoons that they are when it comes to managing the economic fortunes of their nations. If only. Despite the election predictions swirling out here my gut feeling is that those folks in the US and Canada who really feel this economic crisis (the ones already hanging onto their jobs by a thread, unable to fathom how to pay their home heating bill this winter) will stay home, alienated and scared, rather than turning out the vote against economic mayhem come election day. Or failing that, they will vote for independent candidates who are even further to the right and hate immigrants even more than McCain or Palin do.
I feel pretty lucky at times like this that my job is less tied to the contingencies of the market, and my partner is in the same boat – because if I worked in any sector that relied on spending right now I’d be feeling pretty nervous. On the other hand, a Conservative majority could put me out of work faster than you could say deregulation. Here’s to hoping that the era of conservative economics is over for now, and that this crisis demonstrates the need for regulation to protect us from the worst of greed’s excesses. If not, the robber barons will simply move behind the curtain for a brief period before unleashing their latest scam on the stock market (dot-com, real estate bubble, savings and loan – there have been at least a dozen since the 1980s), to the detriment of those who feel the real economic impact, the vast majority who make up society in the US.
We’re at another crossroads I suppose, but it still doesn’t seem like we will ever learn.
Signed first editions.
I’m not sure I’ve written much here about the small tradition of books Brian and I have given each other over the past year – some simply rare and beautiful, some autographed by their (now deceased) authors. It was an early excitement to discover that we are both people who enjoy the book not only for the contents within, but additionally for its form and aesthetic (Kindle be damned, McSweeney’s Quarterly has it right).
The first book was Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass, a 1947 edition with original pencil and ink drawings that I found early in our relationship at a rarities dealer in Ottawa. A book I fell in love with at first sight: woven cloth cover, odd-sized format, and exuberant populist artwork to match Whitman’s own hopeful poetry. I bought it for myself on a whim, but when walking away from the store I had a niggling thought…. perhaps this would be a gift for Brian. That is, if I knew him better, or for longer, or had an inkling of what type of thing was an appropriate first gift between us. I put it aside for Christmas, reasoning that if we were still together by then (3 months), I would know whether it was suitable or not.
And as it came upon us we were much more at ease, and so I wrapped this precious thing in star-covered cloth tied with a black velvet ribbon, offering it to him unsure still what his reaction would be. I had still never been in his house, you see, and I had no idea until he unwrapped my gift that in his home was a special bookshelf devoted to old and rare books (in particular poetry). He looked down at the book, and then up at me with some surprise, and I knew it was as perfect a gift then as any I could have chosen – apparently confirming that his secret hope to be well-matched had been met.
For my birthday I received a first edition (1936) of Carl Sandburg’s The People, Yes and a few months later I tracked down a first edition signed copy of Upton Sinclair’s two-volume Boston in time for the start of Brian’s 36th year. Upon his return from New York City this summer he bestowed upon me a signed paperback copy of Abbie Hoffman’s Steal This Book! in addition to a few other small treasures. These on top of many other less-collectible novels and comics that we have shared with each other in the days and months that became ours. A small treasury of coveted literary history which we envision putting on a shared bookshelf at some point in the future. (Geeky and romantic, yes, I know.)
This past weekend Brian gave me an unexpected gift “just because” of a first edition, signed copy of Al Purdy’s Sundance at Dusk – a slim chapbook in imminent danger of losing its pages to the cheap glue used in Canadian publishing at that time. Purdy is one of my favourite poets and has been since I first read his poetry in my grade twelve year of high school – a true character out of the wilds of Ontario, hopped a train and came to BC as an impoverished worker and writer where he spent most of his adult years give or take his trips to the Arctic, to Cuba, to wherever he plucked his images from. A figure of rough romance and excess, he was the landlord to some friends when I lived in Victoria and apparently always willing to throw down some literary critique for even the lowliest of poets.
This copy of Sundance is in pretty good shape if you don’t count the weakening glue, but I was dismayed to open it to the first page and see red-marked edits that someone had made on the poem “Lament”. I said to Brian, “who would go in and edit a poet’s printed work?” until he pointed out to me that the edits and Purdy’s signature were in the same colour of red ink. And when I looked closer, the lettering was of the same style (his signature is one very literal to his handwriting). At second glance it appeared that Purdy had not only signed this copy, but had corrected misprints for whoever had owned it…. Which I checked against the collected works of Purdy (Beyond Remembering to confirm that in fact, the “correct” version of the poem is as Purdy himself changed 32 years ago.
Better than simply a signed first edition, though I cannot say why. Because it was held for some moments by a poet I eternally admire? Because it proves his immortality despite passing on a few years ago? Because it is proof of his irritability at the printer who typeset his words improperly and thus gives the impression of the man he was? A strangely precious thing in any case, not unlike our tradition of books treasured like shared secrets.
(slightly) Food obsessed.
Brian & I have been eating happily in recent weeks – by which I mean both healthy and tasty food, not too much of it, and very balanced nutritionally. It’s something I keep wanting to write about, though I’m not sure what the compulsion is beyond wanting to let the world know that my physical and mental spirits are up these days.
Being partnered again seems to have brought my inner-domestic-goddess out of retirement and this summer I found myself perusing cookbooks and recipe magazines for the first time in years. Dinner parties! Barbeques! Canning! It’s been a lot more time in the kitchen lately and less eating out (with the exception of our holiday in Quebec) – and I am reminded anew of the pleasures found in experimenting with simple ingredients, planning shared dinners with my sweetie, and breaking bread with friends who ooh and ahh appreciatively.
It should be noted that after three live-in partners who did little more than mumble a thank-you at dinner time each night I vowed I was not going to do the domestic thing again. As much as I might try to be a good partner, I certainly have no interest in being anybody’s “wife” at the stage of things (what with the full-on career and union-leading thing that take up most of my time). But (fingers-crossed, please let it be true) it does seem this time things are different. Brian and I actually plan meals together. And cook side-by-side. He goes grocery shopping without being prodded. And if I return home from work later than him, he’s usually already got dinner on the table. Which brings a whole new enjoyment to the process for me. If I don’t feel like it, I don’t cook! And when there’s a big job (like a dinner party) the work is cut in half.
So all of this, plus the fact that eating at home is healthier and more economical, has been encouraging – though it is also making me a little food obsessive with the recipe searches and weekly planning. I should note too that both of us have lost weight in this process of more planned eating – this past year of travel and restaurant-eating has been hell on keeping a healthy weight for me!
In any case, I intend to share recipes here as it occurs to me to do so. In fact, here is one from last night’s dinner. Enjoy!
Mediterranean Salmon Salad
Serves 2 (Modified from Cooking Light recipe)
1/4 cup uncooked orzo
1 (6-ounce) salmon fillets
1 tsp olive oil
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon dried oregano
1/8 teaspoon black pepper
1 cup1 torn spinach
1/2 cup chopped red bell pepper
1/4 cup chopped green onions
4 kalamata olives, pitted and chopped
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1 tablespoons crumbled feta cheese
1. Cook pasta according to package directions, omitting salt and fat.
2. Saute salmon filet in small amount of olive oil – about 5 minutes on each side until fish flakes easily when tested with a fork. Let stand 5 minutes; break into bite-sized pieces.
3. Combine pasta, salmon, spinach, and remaining ingredients in a medium bowl; toss well. Serve either warm or cool.
Election madness.
There are just far too many elections going on at the moment for my liking – US Federal, Canadian Federal and BC Municipal – all in the next 2 months. Cringe and cover time people!
Elections really get me down – although I vote, and sometimes even campaign for the people I like – I just view them as more stress, more work, and another diversion from getting down to the things that matter. The federal election being an example very specific to my union work: there is a very good chance the collective bargaining will be cancelled or at the very least slowed until November as a result of Harper’s election call. And for what? Another minority government with the same composition? I think Canadians could have waited another year for that.
There’s something about an election that just reminds me of how powerless the process is. As Douglas’ speech above points out, it’s just fat cats and more fat cats – and these days we don’t even have a credible socialist alternative to buoy us (as far as I’m concerned the NDP is just another bunch of cats). I want it to be different, you know. I really do. But every election where I get even moderately excited about a particular candidate or leader only results in disappointment after the election is over.
Take Layton for example. I always vote NDP if I vote at all, and when Layton won the party leadership a few years ago I thought – okay, he talks well, seems to be getting down to the brass tacks of class, etc. etc. I was cautiously optimistic that perhaps he could bring some dynamism to the federal NDP for a change. A small hope.
But honestly – the fact Layton has spent three years talking about little more than ATM fees and the outrage of paying for text messaging? Are his advisors serious? Or just lining up Layton and co. to be the cranks of Parliament Hill? What about the nightmare of housing prices? The loss of arable land (and thus food security) to industrial development? The deregulation resulting in outbreaks of illness? The fact that Harper has muzzled the bureaucracy and is running the least accountable government in decades?
Oh no. ATM fees. Because that’s what Canadians are really concerned about. How insulting.
(To be fair, he has expended some of his precious talk time on Arctic sovereignty which I admit is a tad more interesting – but at the end of the day, working people don’t really care that much. And the NDP is supposedly our party – that would be the party of mice, not cats).
But it’s been a long time since any politician actually spoke the language of regular folks to the degree needed to moblize their vote. And I suspect that the biggest failure of this election campaign will be reflected in low voter turnouts. Why bother even listening when nothing is going to change? Why bother going to the polls early for more of the same? It gets me down people, it really does.
Which is why I’m trying my hardest to ignore the big picture, and just focus on my local candidate who I like (yay Libby!) Because otherwise I might end up not voting at all.
Selected readings from the summer.
Last night I got a full night’s sleep for the first time in about two weeks – between Brian’s illness and mine there has been much tossing and turning between us – so much so that the last three nights I have said *Enough!* and reclused into my own home with the hope of shaking the end of this cold. Almost there I think. A cough and a sniffle and another few sleeps should do it.
In the meantime I have returned to work and have spent the last day processing the issues that filled up my inboxes (mail, voice, email) in my absence. I’m realizing now that I have so little to say about anything going on in my life – so perhaps it is a day for book reviews – since the one thing I have done a lot of lately is reading. Reading, and rearranging my shelves at home to accomodate the many new books that entered my life this summer. Back in July I encountered a garage sale in my neighbourhood at which every book was 50 cents – so not only was my supply steady over the holidays, but it cost me a lot less than normal. In any case, here are some of my summer reads.
Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly | Anthony Bourdain
The insider’s guide to the world of professional cookery, Bourdain tells the straight story about what’s really going on in kitchens while recounting his own biographical journey through the world of food. He’s got a good sense of humour which makes this readable, though this collection of chapters would have been better pitched as an essay series than as a single narrative work. A tad disjointed. And certainly overblown in terms of bad behaviour – it must be noted that even Bourdain realizes that he is a tad excessive compared to others.
The Yiddish Policeman’s Union | Michael Chabon
I normally don’t bother reviewing books I can’t finish – but in this case I am in order to tell you not to bother. It’s not that the writing is poor. It’s not that the story is uninteresting. But something about this book made it a dreadful ready and I suspect that has something to do with the disjuncture between the writing and the story. The story being gumshoe detective with a twist, and the writing being densely literary. The mismatch, I’m afraid, makes this a struggle to read and I put it down after about three-quarters through. I just couldn’t make myself read to the end despite the fact I wanted to see how it turned out – which isn’t like me at all.
Woman’s Inhumanity to Woman | Phyllis Chesler
A book of case studies that essentially underline the fact that women are perpetuators of patriarchal behaviour just as much as men. Interesting, well-written and full of useful illustrations of how this plays out in familial, social and professional situations. Worthwhile if you’re into feminist analysis or a woman leader in a union wondering why your biggest attackers are other women (that would be me). Apparently it’s systemic. Who knew?
The Habit of Loving | Doris Lessing
Garage-sale find – a 1960s paperback edition of this collection of Lessing’s short stories. Truly, she is a gifted writer on every level and this first experience with her short stories left me very pleased. Intimate, witty, concise. But even better were all the reviews on the back of the book claiming Lessing to be “as good a writer as any man”. Thankfully, these things don’t get printed on bookjackets anymore, though I wouldn’t be surprised if many reviewers still think it.
The Paperboy | Pete Dexter
No great work of literature, but an enjoyable read. Dexter situates this legal drama in the Florida swamps and prisons of the late 1960s, as an investigative reporter returns home with his partner at the behest of some letters sent by a woman convinced that her “boyfriend” is innocent of the crime he has been convicted of. With little to go on, the reporters trace the story back, unravelling their own lives in the process. There are no heroes in this novel, only survivors of the story they untangle.
White Teeth | Zadie Smith
Opening with an attempted suicide, Smith has crafted a novel in which she puts all her characters through the rigorous paces of growing together and up as multiracial families in Britain from 1975 on. A family epic of unusual proportions, Smith’s tale takes into scope Jamaican slave-history, doomsday religion (JW), World War Two, the failure of a certain Bengali uprising, genetic engineering, the ethics of kidnapping one’s own child, islamic militancy, the motivations of liberatl do-gooders, radical animal liberation actions, and the domestic politics of families – multiracial and otherwise. She’s funny, this Zadie Smith, and incisive. A book to definitely enjoy.
The Almost Moon | Alice Sebold
You can read what I wrote about this one here.
Border Crossing | Pat Barker
I really admire Pat Barker’s ability to tell a story that is sufficiently compelling without dipping into the melodramatic possibilities that exist within the world of psychological upset she creates. This tale, centered on a young man released from state care after more than 10 years (locked away for a murder committed when he was ten years old) and the psychologist who he chooses to bring back into his life, leaves you questioning what is really going on until the very end. Barker is a fabulous writer, and this is a very nice (albeit quick) read.
Need More Love: A Graphic Memoir | Aline Kominsky Crumb
Brian bought me cool books in NYC – the best of which was a signed paperback copy of Steal This Book! Need More Love was one of the other choices that found its way into his suitcase – and I had a great time reading it over the summer. It’s Aline Crumb’s autobiography told alternately in comics, paintings, interviews and short writings – interesting enough in that it covers her life, but it also encompasses a history of alternative comics, sixties sub-culture, and the rise of yuppiedom among Northern California hippies. Definitely a nice addition to my collection of graphic novels.
The Best American Non-Required Reading 2007 | David Eggers (Editor)
Picked this up on a whim and discovered a fantastic collection of humour writing, essays, and short stories. By far the best in this edition is the introductory essay by Sufjan Stevens about how he didn’t learn to read until Grade Three (and the failure of Montessori for him personally). Gosh, that was funny.
Savage Beauty: The Life of Edna St. Vincent Millay | Nancy Milford
I have always been interested in Edna St. Vincent Millay, renegade poet of the earlier 20th century, and this biography covers her life in a way that is respectful and fairly complete. Including smatterings of poetry, pictures of Millay’s drug notebooks, and a wide array of source interviews – an interesting picture of a woman who was simultaneously voted “one of America’s ten most famous women” while also maintaining a semi-reclusive life in her upstate New York home. Both her rise to stardom and her descent into addiction are familiar to modern celebrity life, it’s just hard to imagine a time in which such a celebrity was a poet and intellectual!
Briefing for a Descent into Hell | Doris Lessing
I tried to read this back when I was 19 and couldn’t make a go of it. Read it this time around by skimming the long passages of delusion experienced by the main character – which I suppose were the point of the whole novel. Perhaps this is sixties avant-gardism but I wasn’t entirely sure of the point. As much as I love Lessing, I didn’t like this.
The Gathering | Anne Enright
Bought this Booker winner ages ago in an airport and just got around to reading it last week. An odd little novel with no real events to speak of besides a death and a wake – but magnificently written. An inner journey of the main character between past to present, an attempt to piece together events from childhood and their impact on the death of her brother, Enright leaves the reader wondering exactly what, if anything, did happen. But artfully. Without melodrama. Not a general recommendation for everyone – but if writing craft is your interest then I would sure suggest this.
Wounds of Passion: A Writing Life | bell hooks
An autobiography from the first part of bell hooks’ life – written in both first and third person – with a lovely poetic feel throughout. The memoir of beginning to write, fighting racism and sexism in the process of becoming the radical thinker and artist that hooks is today. Another good garage sale find and a light read in terms of accessibility, though not in terms of subject.
The Eye in the Door | Pat Barker
The second book from the Regeneration Trilogy – carrying on the story of Officer Billy Prior and psychiatrist Dr. Rivers against the backdrop of World War One. Barker explores psychiatry, violence, homosexuality, conscientious objection to the war, socialism, poetry, and more in this incredible series of books. I’m on to the third shortly (which won a Booker), Brian is currently reading the first – I can’t recommend Barker’s writing strongly enough.
Red Cedar 