Marion Agnew

On Instagram (and sometimes to Facebook), I post about books I enjoy. Usually on Sundays, sometimes other days, and about once a week, give or take. But because not everyone is on social media, I also post some here.  And note that these musings are less reviews than appreciations. I post about a book because something about it strikes me--perhaps the writing, though the storylines may be problematic; perhaps the plotting, though the book itself didn't inspire much reflection; perhaps the novelty (often for books in translation), even though I'm sure I'm only partly understanding the author's intent and their world, however grateful I am for the glimpse.  Which is good for me to remember about all books I read: I may be only partly understanding the intent. And I sometimes miss what isn't written, so I appreciate others who point that out. But as I've said before, I do try to read with a generosity of spirit.  And here are some recent books.  Shelterbelts Jonath

I jotted down a few random thoughts during the past week and only as I was readying this post did I realize they all have to do with letting go. (I'm sorry if that gave you an Elsa earworm.) Letting Go of Electronics The first has to do with recycling. I take seriously the "reduce" and "reuse" parts of responsible, ecological living. Still, sometimes, you gotta recycle, which always makes me feel as if I'm getting away with something. Figuring out where to drop electronics, specifically, gives me some exponential version of that feeling. Because sometimes you put random electronic items that are long past their useful life into a box, and only occasionally (once in ten or more years) do you wonder what to do with them.  To be clear, we're not people who go through electronics quickly. No "latest" version of anything in this house. These items weren't just "obsolete" in technology terms; they were actual decades old in human years,

This place probably looks a little different. For the first time in some 15 years, I'm updating and moving some things around. Never fear, it will settle down soon!

I think a lot about words and what they mean.  The persistent ice of early May, 2023. I also think a lot about how writers are not their work. And recently, in my very own life, I've used words that confuse a writer with their work.  A couple of weeks back, I had the chance to bond with a bookseller over the writing of a famous author. “Oh, I hate Famous Author!” I said. Far too loudly, in fact. And I felt yucky. Understand this: I do not know Famous Author. I actually don’t hate Famous Author. They’re possibly a perfectly nice person. You know, maybe. Of course I imagine that the elements of their work I don’t like are proof positive that Famous Author is a showboat, and I so I have actual reasons why I don't like them, and why I don't think we'd be friends.  Maybe, maybe not. Many Famous Authors (and Famous Others) are horrible people.* Maybe this one is too. But maybe not.  And let's be clear, Famous Author gives zero hoots about my opinion or potential as a best

My first book, REVERBERATIONS: A DAUGHTER'S MEDITATIONS ON ALZHEIMER'S , collected personal essays about my mother's dementia and how our family responded to it. Click here to download AlzAuthors's special guide to its resources about caring for mothers. Dementia (in all its forms, including Alzheimer's) can be a lonely illness. The person who has it can find socializing difficult. Their family members are likely not specialists in dementia and may need help figuring out basic skills for caring for adults.  Sometimes, people in the dementia community just need companionship. Not professional intervention, necessarily--just proof that others have experienced or are currently experiencing what you're going through. Feeling seen and heard somehow makes it easier to return to life with a fresh perspective and new energy. And often, you gain a few insights or learn a few techniques that can help everyone. Organizations like AlzAuthors help new caregivers find compani

Tra-la, it's May!  Tra-la, indeed. We had less snow overall this past winter than last year, but April had plenty of snow/wintry mix, to the point that there's actually more knee-deep snow left out there this year than last. However. Today, it feels more as if Spring is here to stay.    leaf on asphalt; black and white photos are a whole mood, aren't they? So here's what I'm taking into May, 2023.   First, the fruits of my labours. April was full of the last manuscript revisions for my novel, coming in October--quiet time with documents in both electronic and paper forms. And pens. And I finished. Throughout that time, I learned a lot. Between storms, I did a lot of errand-ish things. Things adults do. Taking care of business. It feels good when it's over, even though I complain plenty while I'm doing them .   I have also learned a lot recently from professional organizations, such as The Writer's Union of Canada and their webinars, which they thoughtf

Here are my thoughts about some of the books I've read recently. Not homework at all! My Name is Lucy Barton, Elizabeth Strout     “I had not yet learned the depth of disgust city people feel for the truly provincial.”   I read this book a few months back but held off writing about it, hoping I’d eventually know what to say, but I still don’t quite know how I feel.   I don’t mind books in which “not much happens,” which is a criticism I’ve seen of this book. Here’s what “happens”: Lucy Barton lies in a hospital bed. Her mother comes to visit. They talk and remember. The end.   But that summary is, of course, not everything. Lucy and her mother talk about and around and behind their own relationship. Lucy wonders about the world she left behind and second-guesses her choices. She’s attentive to those who are attentive to her. She’s not sure what’s happening at times. It’s a quiet book about people.   Did I like it? It was fine. Would I reread it? I can’t quite imagine it, but never