galadrielwatson

January 21, 2015

Enough

While making dinner on Sunday, I caught the tail end of the show Tapestry on CBC radio. In it, illustrator Maira Kalman was speaking about having “enough.” Not angrily, as in: “I’ve had enough.” But calmly, as in: “I have enough.” Not the ache of wanting, but the satisfaction of having what you need.

Just listening to the concept made me feel lighter. How freeing it would be to not always strive for more, but to be settled where you are!

I’ve thought of this often in my seemingly insatiable quest for stories. With the ease of Netflix and iTunes, my family and I watch so many movies and so many TV shows (though still relatively few compared to other people; a maximum one of either a day) that it’s hard to find new ones that appeal. It’s actually nice living in a small town with one small theatre that plays one movie a week—and sometimes not even that. At least when it comes to new releases, we’re forced to slow down.

And then there are books. Once upon a time, I was happy to finish a book, pause, consider what might come next: revisit an old book off a shelf, visit the library, wait for a trip to a bookstore. These days, I immediately dive into my always-healthy stack of to-reads. The library merits only an occasional visit, and old favourites sit and wait.

But why do I need new, new, new? Why do I need to go, go, go? I think it’s time to embrace slow reading—and find satisfaction even when I’m not in possession of the latest and greatest.

The challenge will be to resist the pull of advertising and marketing: the bookstore tweets, the media and blog reviews. The forces that make me want.

It will be satisfying to feel I’ve already got enough—but believe me, it’ll be hard.

How do you feel about the insatiable quest for stories?

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About the Author

Posted by Galadriel

Hi, I’m Galadriel: blogger, author, reader and resident of a quaint small town in the breathtaking West Kootenay region of southeastern British Columbia. You can also find me on Twitter and Facebook.

January 17, 2015

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Travelling Through Time With Station Eleven

Every book I read provides an opportunity to learn: how to present engaging characters, create a can’t-put-down plot, trick readers with an unreliable narrator and so one. The one that has captured me lately is Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel, which demonstrates mastery of the art of time.

The story is intriguing: a flu epidemic wipes out nearly all humans, and the few remaining struggle within the new state of the world, not only to survive, but to connect and move forward. “Because,” as they say, “survival is insufficient.”

I liked the characters. I was interested by the premise. I loved the importance of the fictional graphic novel. But what really pulled it together was the seemingly haphazard presentation of time. As these people piece together their own histories, we piece together the various stories too. We gradually see the connections, gradually get to know the people by who they were in the past. If the novel had flowed in chronological order, the magic would have been lost.

During an undergrad fiction writing course at the University of Victoria, we studied First Blood by David Morrell (the first book of the Rambo series) as an ideal example of a story that starts at the beginning, moves forward chronologically and never looks back. Station Eleven is the other extreme.

My discovery of this book comes at an ideal time; I usually work rather chronologically, with the odd flashback, but the novel I’m currently working on could definitely benefit from some of this skipping back and forth. I look forward to seeing how I can implement Mandel’s techniques.

Have you read the book? What do you think?

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About the Author

Posted by Galadriel

January 14, 2015

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French Milk

Although I have little experience reading graphic novels, I’m intrigued by the idea of them. I obviously love writing. And I also love the visual arts (having been a bit of an artist myself in my teens, and having grown up in the same house as an illustrator aunt). So combining them theoretically opens the possibility of the best of both worlds.

A few years ago, when my son was young, I assumed graphic forms were only for teens and kids. My latest read proves they are not.

French Milk is Lucy Knisley’s travelogue of a six-week trip to Paris with her mother. There is no overwhelming narrative arc here, no obvious life-changing twists à la Eat, Pray, Love. This is simply an illustrated chronicle of a family vacation (one very focused on food).

First, it makes me thoroughly miss Paris.

Second, it makes me thankful that authors like Lucy dare to share themselves—and that their friends and families are willing to be exposed too. Karen at One More Page recently wrote about how her blog about books makes her feel self-conscious. Imagine taking that further and displaying your personal life!

Third, it makes me think: I could do this too! Such simple drawings! I could draw a suitcase. I could draw a glass of wine. Maybe I’ll whip up a travelogue myself!

It’s deceptive, of course. Like everyone good at their craft, Lucy makes it look easy (and shows us how here). I may indeed be able to draw a glass of wine, but a person slouched at a dinner table expressing dismay? All with a few strokes of pen? Definitely not. I think I’ll stick to writing and leave illustrating to the pros.

What do you think about graphic books? Which do you recommend?

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