tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33809712924972291992024-03-14T11:58:58.466-04:00Marion AgnewMarion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.comBlogger580125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3380971292497229199.post-66834459136377419042024-03-06T10:30:00.001-05:002024-03-06T10:30:00.441-05:00I Love People Who Love Books<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://www.marionagnew.com/2024/01/ola-superconference-thursday-january-25.html" target="_blank">As I've mentioned previously,</a> I had the great good fortune in January to attend the Ontario Library Association's Superconference this year to sign books in the Ontario Book Publisher Organization's pavilion. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The theme of the conference was GET LOUD, and I can testify that the expo hall was buzzing with excitement. I met retired librarians who attended because they just loved the conference SO MUCH. (One with a Thunder Bay connection, because that's Thunder Bay.) I met people still working on degrees and certifications in book- and library-adjacent topics (publishing, library professions, database work, social work). </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSjRcn2KlUe336H7Hy-E1gIWHQlGam4SQdB5VEGFxcxb1V0o3FTxBK7zUu3688x7phIOoCmXmzTfdjRj6A0jjATW-WCRlYB7a8hq-ldOqRRjQenKrC7jS6FiulRkojP6YE6r_2EINCo0rzH9sCkwqZS_7sAq6QIqPxpPw7xiGusJzg5qY9K9T1Qv8GMLCU/s2976/MUTG%20Cover%20Image%20scan%20300%20DPI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2976" data-original-width="2384" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSjRcn2KlUe336H7Hy-E1gIWHQlGam4SQdB5VEGFxcxb1V0o3FTxBK7zUu3688x7phIOoCmXmzTfdjRj6A0jjATW-WCRlYB7a8hq-ldOqRRjQenKrC7jS6FiulRkojP6YE6r_2EINCo0rzH9sCkwqZS_7sAq6QIqPxpPw7xiGusJzg5qY9K9T1Qv8GMLCU/s320/MUTG%20Cover%20Image%20scan%20300%20DPI.jpg" width="256" /></span></a><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The image on the cover of MAKING UP THE GODS,<br /> </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">based on an original collage by Erin Stewart.</span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I met people less directly related to the actual physical libraries themselves. Such as representatives of powerhouse university presses located thousands of miles away who attended because Ontario libraries have wide-ranging tastes and are interested in university press books. I met people who've worked supporting small libraries for decades, who are hanging on to provide services (but only barely, because some provincial governments really underestimate the value of public libraries in small communities and withhold support) (but I digress). </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">One (possibly not the only) unifying factor? They were all a hoot to interact with--because they were all excited about books. And many were excited to meet authors. I certainly was! </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I've also had the privilege to attend a couple of in-person book clubs (book groups for you Americans). Okay, one was on Zoom, but it was like being in person because I know the people well and we've been meeting in person for decades. (Also: I'm very very open to attending book clubs/groups in person or on Zoom!)</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I'm here to tell you, there's little in the world that's more exciting than sitting with people who've given your work the gift of their time and attention, and listening to them discuss it. Sometimes I was a fly on the wall while they talked through a question they had. Sometimes they turned to me for an answer, and while I try also to turn the question back to them ("what do you think?") sometimes it's fun to answer. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I will say that when I started on this novel, I had no idea that someday my book would be proposed as evidence for the argument that the trajectory of human civilization is positive. I wouldn't have predicted mixed reactions to one character--a favourite, a least-favourite--who knew? </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">In my wildest dreams I wouldn't have imagined I'd have the opportunity to encourage people (young and "older") to continue to love books and even spread their writing wings. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I was nervous throughout much of 2023, as the publication of MAKING UP THE GODS drew near. What am I supposed to be doing in this limbo time? What if I missed a formatting error or typo--strike that; of course I did, so how will I feel about my book's imperfections when I see it in real life? What if people hate my characters? What if people READ it--or NOBODY reads it? How will I ever move on?</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">If 2023 was the year of nerves, then 2024 is the year of gratitude. I'm so grateful to be in touch with people who love books--love to read them (listening counts, though mine aren't in audiobook form yet!), love to write them, love to discuss them. Let's keep the creativity and conversations going! </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p>Marion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3380971292497229199.post-14894505193776005542024-02-21T12:45:00.010-05:002024-02-21T12:45:44.620-05:00Retreat and Return<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">As someone who lives in a rural home with another writer, with a great deal of choice over my workday, one might wonder why I would attend a writing retreat.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">What would I possibly need that I can't get at home? Why would I pay someone a fee to go somewhere else to do what I can already do?</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">For many years, for those reasons, I didn't go. A local informal gathering of writers has been meeting for long, intensive self-directed weekends for years. I never understood the appeal.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Yet now, I'm just back from a writing retreat. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL52UDgZmJbwTVe5rstegCC_Zy1LU_iMvtZHpym67qtkwwcCHz_CQDGesygq1KMmSO8xZlVV5JaMmM9uxZX8Z7CqA_h8XhA-veCnN2OrLJuDjKFPtJDGCy8wmB8GD7YyjDMBxegluBt_dX2Jr_v4vnfqHtxKDStsMSpXu27d1hctq0dnKAsU-CSHhhK7kH/s4032/IMG_7942.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL52UDgZmJbwTVe5rstegCC_Zy1LU_iMvtZHpym67qtkwwcCHz_CQDGesygq1KMmSO8xZlVV5JaMmM9uxZX8Z7CqA_h8XhA-veCnN2OrLJuDjKFPtJDGCy8wmB8GD7YyjDMBxegluBt_dX2Jr_v4vnfqHtxKDStsMSpXu27d1hctq0dnKAsU-CSHhhK7kH/s320/IMG_7942.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The drive out.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy0m7dlX13TPWwQ79cfPr2Wccw4dYVNhwKKq1mpsyGEkqt_vGWfkttH-IhG9xP7s8eRtrq2XQ5cTWnvO5xEEZj8u6scMPJ3xDpjg8zUgpt78Uhg1xTVgvDactgWuFGyPmK8kGOWSZszV36tzV_AIfOig5j5XkwexPbXjHPgn2lEYG0WtRlJMk4DP0T9qpg/s4032/IMG_7945.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy0m7dlX13TPWwQ79cfPr2Wccw4dYVNhwKKq1mpsyGEkqt_vGWfkttH-IhG9xP7s8eRtrq2XQ5cTWnvO5xEEZj8u6scMPJ3xDpjg8zUgpt78Uhg1xTVgvDactgWuFGyPmK8kGOWSZszV36tzV_AIfOig5j5XkwexPbXjHPgn2lEYG0WtRlJMk4DP0T9qpg/s320/IMG_7945.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The view over Lake Marie Louise, <br />toward my home, which lies beyond more land <br />and a bay of Lake Superior.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Why did I go? What happened to change my mind? Well, life, mostly. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I first went in 2020. My first book, REVERBERATIONS: A DAUGHTER'S MEDITATIONS ON ALZHEIMER'S, had just come out. </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The experience of focusing intently on that one manuscript--short essays--had been extremely productive for me. I'd benefitted greatly from exchanging short pieces of writing with trusted readers. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">But I wanted to finish my first novel, which required me to work differently with feedback. I needed time and quiet to understand what my next steps were. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I was also interested in broadening the diversity of my creative friends and acquaintances, and this seemed perfect. I'd have the ability to work solo, with privacy, in quiet rooms, and I'd share meals and other sessions (discussions, meditations, etc.), with other people if I wanted to. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">So I went to a retreat--the better part of three full days, over a long weekend, with a bunch of people I barely knew. The location was a provincial park I can basically see from my house (not really--the park is too far back from Lake Superior to see, but it really is just across on the other side of the bay from our house).</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And it was an amazing experience. While there, in the silence and privacy of my own room, I came up with one significant part of the plot of my novel--an external fact that provided a lot of motivation for the most recalcitrant character. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I also met a bunch of new-to-me people interested in writing and in incorporating other forms of creativity (visual art, sewing/knitting, music, food) into their lives, and I got to spend time in formal and informal chats with others I'd known but didn't really KNOW.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Then the pandemic, plus lockdowns. Then last year, the same group got together in the same place with the same basic format. And a LOT had changed during those three years. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I'd just submitted the final revision of my novel manuscript to its publisher. It was time to consider projects and go through my file of "great ideas for when I pick a new project." I brought a lot of physical and electronic files to go through, and the retreat gave me the space to do that and to work through some new ideas. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And again--I got to spend time with people I hadn't seen in a while and meet new creative folks. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">So when I learned the retreat would happen again this year, I signed up. I had to juggle my schedule a little to participate, but I was so glad I had. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Again, a book had just come out--this time, MAKING UP THE GODS, my first novel--and it was time to familiarize myself with a new/draft project. I was so pleased to spend time with the extensive work my former self had done on my second novel. And I was grateful again for the opportunity to choose when, where, and how to spend time with other people interested in creativity.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">It was also good practice for me in making choices. I tried to spend enough time alone with my novel draft that I made progress and have a sense of what's next. And I wanted, again, to spend time--in a thoughtful and productive way--with other creative people. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_veZDtjirbxuAGJiJGpSIJHSCOMUmWMnCZv-NImKyXY8nAwHgtQ8ctfn4XJO6uWIQpN-n4WqyQ4sUJ6ysRd80HLIgH0vlZSOmoBwrTBlh2DHRE_1TT9UZ-na_54H0Zxl9N-bQmQiBQr3mGQkrzb1RSye7vWjH5eWhLVVg_Gd_uS48gJhpKGrhhy2I_ubm/s4032/IMG_7947.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_veZDtjirbxuAGJiJGpSIJHSCOMUmWMnCZv-NImKyXY8nAwHgtQ8ctfn4XJO6uWIQpN-n4WqyQ4sUJ6ysRd80HLIgH0vlZSOmoBwrTBlh2DHRE_1TT9UZ-na_54H0Zxl9N-bQmQiBQr3mGQkrzb1RSye7vWjH5eWhLVVg_Gd_uS48gJhpKGrhhy2I_ubm/s320/IMG_7947.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">For real, food like this is a lot <br />of the appeal of attending a retreat.</span> </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY4loHxh80S17I-GA2Uc_IY9-5wS-e1AkMXh6ovO_5MqznBqtRxYLczSR6PEbBIluoJB9CjFUbxHzmHUR0cDv_JY0OiehaSKCx4PuCBJ4fABJfTpvbJIv5KrP4csCFrY_NY4Ovz61VlUAWeInVdOMk2BAqti_vVZfvNqHCaeetvCbPkOGGPuuqeDD6NcdZ/s4032/IMG_7952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY4loHxh80S17I-GA2Uc_IY9-5wS-e1AkMXh6ovO_5MqznBqtRxYLczSR6PEbBIluoJB9CjFUbxHzmHUR0cDv_JY0OiehaSKCx4PuCBJ4fABJfTpvbJIv5KrP4csCFrY_NY4Ovz61VlUAWeInVdOMk2BAqti_vVZfvNqHCaeetvCbPkOGGPuuqeDD6NcdZ/s320/IMG_7952.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Other attractions: fun creative projects like collage<br />and an "exquisite corpse" poem, <br />plus sharing books and magazines and other resources. </span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">It was another really good experience for me. And, of course, it's always nice to be missed. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG9KiaU7GwbVC2KBUWlqruwxs-8o5S_U7-kdNQjn2BIZ6Zfgoa0loEXtfEM-xz5JXc0pNFUvRv81iRn9ADRElvmbwcGGd_-1z9qVDmb3bPrbDQVvGc0kWUuPUEHyoJv5GVcz3LfvPOoXaX6vYrMUHe_PYiRFU7tDyM1ZF3LqwVuca87Tb5iXqzjI7PAzjh/s4032/IMG_7954.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG9KiaU7GwbVC2KBUWlqruwxs-8o5S_U7-kdNQjn2BIZ6Zfgoa0loEXtfEM-xz5JXc0pNFUvRv81iRn9ADRElvmbwcGGd_-1z9qVDmb3bPrbDQVvGc0kWUuPUEHyoJv5GVcz3LfvPOoXaX6vYrMUHe_PYiRFU7tDyM1ZF3LqwVuca87Tb5iXqzjI7PAzjh/s320/IMG_7954.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Home. There's no place like it!</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Would I go again? If the past four years have taught me anything, it's the difficulty of planning and predicting anything "for sure." But sure, I'd consider it--especially this specific retreat, because of the amount of flexibility it offers. I've been lucky enough to get out of the experience far more energy than I put into it. I'm grateful. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p><br /></p>Marion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3380971292497229199.post-35176036328509261562024-02-06T10:00:00.001-05:002024-02-06T10:00:00.136-05:00Review of MAKING UP THE GODS<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Last October 14, the Thunder Bay Chronicle Journal ran the following review by their longtime arts critic, Michael Sobota.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Here's one of my favourite lines: "There are, indeed, a lot of dead people in Making Up The Gods." It makes me laugh every time.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And he's absolutely right! They are, as he also notes, VERY important to the choices living people make.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Levity aside, I'm very grateful for Michael's review. It's always nice to hear from someone who understands what you were trying to do!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And Michael approaches all of his reviews with great generosity of spirit, which adds positivity to the local writing community.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Thank you, Michael, for all you do! </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">____________________</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">
<br />Marion Agnew's first novel, Making Up The Gods, is a quintessentially
Northwestern Ontario story. It is an exhibition, a celebration even of
where we live.<br />
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We follow three very different but readily recognizable characters for a few
weeks in early spring. Simone is an elderly widow, living in a house near
the shore of Lake Superior, with a camp just downhill within walking distance,
that sits closer to the shore. These two homes are important and become
significant characters in their own way, in Agnew's story. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Simone is
somewhat of a recluse. By choice. She relishes her privacy.
With some reluctance, she is coaxed into looking after Chen, a friend's
nine-year old son, while the friend is away on an Alaskan cruise. They
are soon interrupted by Martin, a stranger knocking at her door, claiming to be
Simone's cousin. Martin is interested in Simone's property and in coaxing
her to sell and relocate to a condo he owns in Florida. We are aware
Martin is not telling Simone the truth, as he has been contracted to carry out
this subterfuge by a smarmy, distant "Mr. Smith."<br />
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">From this exposition, we follow Simone, Chen and Martin through self reflected
chapters as their relationships develop and entangle.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Agnew has a superior ear for dialogue and voice. Chen is a believable,
likable nine-year old, both in what he says and does. Simone's reluctance to
engage the broader world or better put her happiness within the parameters of
her life on the shore, her privacy, is layered with conversations she has with
the dead. She has regular conversations with her grumpy, judgemental deceased
mother, Carmen as well as her warm and wise husband, William. They appear
and disappear like mist, at their own will. Simone is not crazy.
She is lonely, and smart, and reflection leads to these questioning
conversations she has with these ghosts.<br />
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">There are, indeed, a lot of dead people in Making Up The Gods. In
addition to Carmen and William, Chen's dad and his stepbrother were recently
killed in a major transport accident, as was the transport driver. The
dead are all important to the living in this story and influence both the
plotting and pacing of Making Up The Gods.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br />
There is wonderful warmth and humour here. Chen's humour is youngish, playful,
testing. Simone's is dry, richly layered and observant. As the
story moved rapidly along, I wanted all of them to be happy, while not knowing how
Agnew might get them there.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">There are important teachings for us, the readers, about community, dealing
with grief and loss, trust and ultimately, a kid of love, the sort of love that
is universal feeling rather than romantic or physical. It's satisfying
and rewarding.<br />
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Making Up The Gods will have a special launch at Entershine Bookshop on Sunday,
October 15 with the author present for a reading and book signing. This is a
wonderful addition for our autumn reading and to your holiday gift giving
list. Highly recommended.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>Marion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3380971292497229199.post-4287826797546841252024-01-24T10:00:00.001-05:002024-01-24T10:00:00.134-05:00OLA Superconference Thursday, January 25!<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Just a quick reminder: I'll be at the OLA Superconference on Thursday, tomorrow! I'll sign copies of MAKING UP THE GODS at the Ontario Book Publishers Organization Pavilion at 1 PM. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAQg9Q29OyULZauAik3-3NfU75oExxtkHADSEmHSPtrm7L8lEh9miQKtmWJ52I1zUpZMtzH95WiVLpQ9acBza3fYZ0SOqFFzlO5IVzRqDCRwMAovltH2yhCefv4Y5oIdIROSbXlc1wSTNggfZBB6cgNcGX7MtZIbtIrOHZgjM83vhgFmlWtqqaJLqxfWWH/s1080/4834913C-D9E8-46F8-8F78-681BD5E14DCC.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAQg9Q29OyULZauAik3-3NfU75oExxtkHADSEmHSPtrm7L8lEh9miQKtmWJ52I1zUpZMtzH95WiVLpQ9acBza3fYZ0SOqFFzlO5IVzRqDCRwMAovltH2yhCefv4Y5oIdIROSbXlc1wSTNggfZBB6cgNcGX7MtZIbtIrOHZgjM83vhgFmlWtqqaJLqxfWWH/s320/4834913C-D9E8-46F8-8F78-681BD5E14DCC.PNG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">The conference is in the Metro Toronto Conference Centre. It would be fun to see you there!</span></p>Marion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3380971292497229199.post-74872533893847715562024-01-17T10:30:00.001-05:002024-01-17T10:30:00.147-05:00Books and More in '24<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Possibly not so much "and more," but definitely books!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">For a long time I participated in #SundaySentence on a social media platform where I am no longer active. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">#SundaySentence was supposed to be one sentence, written by someone else, that you'd read in the previous week and found interesting or arresting or otherwise worth passing along. Sometimes I fudged the dates, but the sentences I posted were all from recent reading.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I cross-posted those sentences to Instagram, where I am much more active and enjoy connecting with folks about books and writing. I also compiled them here from time to time. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Recently I recognized that I don't like actually recommending books to people. Too much responsibility. And choosing to post about a book may indicate to someone "she really likes this" as opposed to "she read it and found some elements interesting." </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">So I began trying to better match books to readers. The results look something like this:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPCuq2QCknW6CrSUSdsacLtHfSmmlL4N8Ms782OyGPKAEv01sTxNQqL1OX0ZjMNTLR59pfmpPTZBVQW_dZ1y618qiT3DYmF0PyRR-vCw9_m4GB1fwAxIul_uLIONC4Xev-lI_-TSKAMA30WS0qfe1__DzryzoKzWUZYnSzTdAu5SZs-UmJs6GEyaLBe7Hc/s1080/2E9EBEEC-0DA4-4EF5-876D-59F857BCD254.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPCuq2QCknW6CrSUSdsacLtHfSmmlL4N8Ms782OyGPKAEv01sTxNQqL1OX0ZjMNTLR59pfmpPTZBVQW_dZ1y618qiT3DYmF0PyRR-vCw9_m4GB1fwAxIul_uLIONC4Xev-lI_-TSKAMA30WS0qfe1__DzryzoKzWUZYnSzTdAu5SZs-UmJs6GEyaLBe7Hc/s320/2E9EBEEC-0DA4-4EF5-876D-59F857BCD254.PNG" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA3iFqk1dpZSfxzPkcNrfHccvJbwEnUu0qiNmMgo9M1xDtrvlTKZrvsw-vftCLgq1LPUUcIFv9h18wqXaGQR2uCYYMjQ83L1akxVM8Gp3CKwbbFg04B4Zqg9iC3VEg372roBxtg1Qr4aCYYVH4VVH8S-OtypQIwUFXfa1fL6HTlGqQP8TNdz7pQAMRy2Mp/s1080/66235A24-6EDA-4662-9388-941A8E1E1CBB.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA3iFqk1dpZSfxzPkcNrfHccvJbwEnUu0qiNmMgo9M1xDtrvlTKZrvsw-vftCLgq1LPUUcIFv9h18wqXaGQR2uCYYMjQ83L1akxVM8Gp3CKwbbFg04B4Zqg9iC3VEg372roBxtg1Qr4aCYYVH4VVH8S-OtypQIwUFXfa1fL6HTlGqQP8TNdz7pQAMRy2Mp/s320/66235A24-6EDA-4662-9388-941A8E1E1CBB.PNG" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnsTmSFNmrcJN7EbDvZlk7NqrpTTkQrs0PjiJRkN64WF1m3HXxjDScYvbDB5GIqvcTx2ocOGUbXOeW3PU6l0dJep2LwyHjfR7mkueCmXAM-KUmNrR2IV6pTpY-qnvc1KwmzTczmIDYkOjdEH_zYkXh8Hn7RoCgZmUUQCXGFrqcGjosT2IXXkJ9I69z7bQK/s1080/IMG_7595.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnsTmSFNmrcJN7EbDvZlk7NqrpTTkQrs0PjiJRkN64WF1m3HXxjDScYvbDB5GIqvcTx2ocOGUbXOeW3PU6l0dJep2LwyHjfR7mkueCmXAM-KUmNrR2IV6pTpY-qnvc1KwmzTczmIDYkOjdEH_zYkXh8Hn7RoCgZmUUQCXGFrqcGjosT2IXXkJ9I69z7bQK/s320/IMG_7595.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /> </span></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I enjoyed working in this format, so I'll continue for a while. However, I'll likely keep them to Instagram. Why not check in with me over there?</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Happy Reading in 2024! </span></p><p><br /></p>Marion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3380971292497229199.post-65916598810623379082024-01-10T11:06:00.001-05:002024-01-10T11:06:39.406-05:00Happy 2024!<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">It's January. In Northwestern Ontario, it's not only the cultural time of new beginnings and slightly more sunshine. It usually marks the time of year when the bay in front of my home freezes completely (although Lake Superior proper hardly ever does). </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">This year, we're a little behind, weather-wise, but we have--at last!--some snow.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy801IVH_76ld_hSbNk73tL-LyXLPbo3XRQ5qNpg1CRJnry1SWHWEWRYdZCPROJWb4-GwyBa8Af6ntnTTPyKDxggcOPOITBIQPL_YsAY3MFe7JtRDtQXtSfaouZlMgfwcLWIaXJo8MfIyIHm57UepYh4g3t-d5k0Imy1SX_cWsvlkFcjvlvYZvV_osiEf_/s4032/IMG_7725.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy801IVH_76ld_hSbNk73tL-LyXLPbo3XRQ5qNpg1CRJnry1SWHWEWRYdZCPROJWb4-GwyBa8Af6ntnTTPyKDxggcOPOITBIQPL_YsAY3MFe7JtRDtQXtSfaouZlMgfwcLWIaXJo8MfIyIHm57UepYh4g3t-d5k0Imy1SX_cWsvlkFcjvlvYZvV_osiEf_/s320/IMG_7725.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Ice trying hard to grow, some snow, and more light!</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Many thanks to readers everywhere, from Kansas to Ohio to North Carolina, from Arizona to Washington State, and all across Canada, who have been in touch over the autumn to let me know their copies of MAKING UP THE GODS arrived!</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">My debut novel has also made a couple of trips--with readers! One to Cancun and another to Cuba. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Also, I'm so grateful to know that the book has touched readers. Several gave copies to friends and family for the holidays, and they're forwarding comments as people read. It's lovely to know.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">As life picks up after the winter holiday season, I'll be doing more events. I have a book club lined up for February. (NOTE: I AM AVAILABLE TO ZOOM INTO YOUR BOOK CLUB/BOOK GROUP, and I'd even travel to appear in person locally! Health restrictions permitting, of course).</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">And in January, I have the great good fortune to be appearing at the <a href="https://www.olasuperconference.ca/" target="_blank">Ontario Library Association's Superconference in Toronto</a>--the theme GET LOUD, and a look at their sessions, show the vital role libraries play in our communities. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I'll be signing books at the Pavilion of the Ontario Book Publishers Organization on THURSDAY, JANUARY 25, AT 1 P.M. I'll fly in that morning and connect with other writers and librarians interested in my story of grief, ghosts, chosen family--and bears. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I start this year with a heart full of gratitude--to Latitude 46 for its support of stories from this region, to the Ontario Arts Council for its grant support through the years, to librarians and teachers and all readers, to friends from high school orchestra and university Calculus classes and former neighbours and and and. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">There's so little I can do to help so many of the ugly, violent events happening throughout the world, but I know one thing: books give readers a chance to develop empathy and broaden their horizons, as long as we look for those opportunities to become our best selves.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">That's my hope for my own 2024. I can't wait to see what it brings! </span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Marion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3380971292497229199.post-51363136550863235162023-12-29T10:00:00.002-05:002024-01-11T12:48:49.689-05:00My Sportswatch: What is it Good For?<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://www.marionagnew.com/2023/09/what-im-taking-into-september.html" target="_blank">Back in September, I mentioned adding a Fitbit into my life and said I'd talk about it some other time</a>. This, apparently, is that time.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">First, what it is: A Fitbit (like several other brands of sportswatch, I'm assuming) gives you data. It can track steps and types of exercise, as well as specific exercise sessions. The distance you've gone. How much you weigh, how many calories you have burned or should burn based on a goal weight, how restful your sleep was, how mindful you've been (based on their own meditations), and a bunch of other stuff. <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">A caveat: the data isn't even necessarily especially accurate. I mean, we've all heard stories of people clocking steps while lifting a wineglass, right?<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">So here's a thing: I'm not in training for anything. Other than life, I guess. Sure, I've competed as a swimmer, runner, and triathlete (though not very competitively, if you know what I mean), and I've tried and obsessed over various methods of improving my health in several recent decades. I like walking. Sometimes I challenge myself, but not officially, for a team. I'm just not there anymore.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">So it really doesn't matter to me how exact any type of sportswatch is. If you're looking for data about reliability and how exactly any equipment calculates distance walked, steps taken, calories burned, etc., you'll need to look elsewhere. Sorry!</span></p><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I've come to see that it's a tool, like astrology, the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, the enneagram, or your Spotify Wrapped results. It can give you a new way to think about yourself, based on mysticism, theory, practical experience, or data. What you do with that data is your business, but I'd be careful about making huge changes based on what it says--at least without a little further investigation. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">In fact, the biggest value I’ve found is in its most annoying feature: the alarm that tells you you haven’t moved enough in the last hour.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYDxP1MjzTQklsj_SzZsiCijjllTLpuwhb5ojelqq5O2gx80-0N89J5XTwHfTRrV5sTv-NuNlJgA4HzHK43upsf3t2mzP9BUXwudqlbWYHhzEggxM4q6__kJDKL7NeOJHQfohzCTUVmk29MgkWV9VO42xom3ftzk1dt8gofxgkOkRXfwzAnmzvrzjlNrcw/s2993/IMG_7524.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2993" data-original-width="1824" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYDxP1MjzTQklsj_SzZsiCijjllTLpuwhb5ojelqq5O2gx80-0N89J5XTwHfTRrV5sTv-NuNlJgA4HzHK43upsf3t2mzP9BUXwudqlbWYHhzEggxM4q6__kJDKL7NeOJHQfohzCTUVmk29MgkWV9VO42xom3ftzk1dt8gofxgkOkRXfwzAnmzvrzjlNrcw/s320/IMG_7524.jpg" width="195" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">So close.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">If asked, and a physiotherapist has, whether I’m generally active in a day, I’d have said “totally.” My main office is in the basement, and the washroom I use is in the second floor of the house. I go upstairs and downstairs all day. Right?</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Yeah, no. I don’t. It’s been eye-opening to see how little I actually move. I do sedentary work and I enjoy focusing on something until I get it done. In fact, I value my ability to focus. Ergo, I sit more than a little. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">But now, every hour, my wrist vibrates with a reminder to move. Sometimes I ignore it, sometimes I miss it (focus and all that)—but I’m aware and it’s my choice.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnXlVkQqUyULC_rzOFHRXI-QpVL_cEoitJACFRDQSOF5cOyAKYUCRk8_mGZSDpOIr-qbmmyulXdmGJKv2lEr2jO-fUYjph3FceuDfSrKGygwmyojsFX65HWaapGom5CkA8ZOrhBb0ndXwJ-_zoZ9cl3OnsaUOTE6l0JshFLLg9RJQuJtNhxZ9hZrLJhDff/s2331/IMG_7525.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2331" data-original-width="1437" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnXlVkQqUyULC_rzOFHRXI-QpVL_cEoitJACFRDQSOF5cOyAKYUCRk8_mGZSDpOIr-qbmmyulXdmGJKv2lEr2jO-fUYjph3FceuDfSrKGygwmyojsFX65HWaapGom5CkA8ZOrhBb0ndXwJ-_zoZ9cl3OnsaUOTE6l0JshFLLg9RJQuJtNhxZ9hZrLJhDff/s320/IMG_7525.jpg" width="197" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Hooray!</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Also, my Fitbit came preset with 10k steps as the daily goal. I reduced it recently, because 10k steps is a nice, reasonable challenge in summer, but in the icy season, when my formal workouts happen indoors, I wanted a goal that was more realistic for me. Because I do like getting cheerful messages about meeting goals. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Mostly, it's nice to make deliberate choices in relation to the data coming into my life. Making deliberate choices feels good.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I don’t have to use this like everyone else, or anyone else. A freeing feeling. One applicable to so many things beyond Fitbits. A feeling I plan to take into 2024. </span></p>Marion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3380971292497229199.post-14172174826394327952023-12-13T11:41:00.002-05:002023-12-13T11:41:20.275-05:00November Recap and Recent Publication: See/Be Seen<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> Hi, folks! </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">November whizzed past in a blur of literary events, and I loved every minute of it. From waking up on my birthday in Wawa, Ontario and being serenaded that evening at Wordstock Sudbury by three former Poets Laureate of Sudbury in the evening, to sitting on a panel with a hugely gifted and influential poet to discuss grief, AND, back home, attending a book club to talk nuts and bolts of character and reality vs. fiction, AND speaking to a ladies' luncheon group, AND reading online for the Northwestern Ontario Writers Workshop, AND a bunch of other events, it's been a wild ride.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6kT5Lm_zmbrTwMVxnDqk6jQbXnFr-PUpAfqXHFGMlu-YIBTVnGddI2rXPn-w4V07baTY-Mjw94nPicTqIzJdmAaVSOJac9HnHvyDJE_d2YeOagCrKk2Kg0UYTevgpL8FLEm7ctJH-J123BfArA4CXtnTRV07kR3b15U9UFOCPtpZ-yGaSosmNTtyjSBsh/s1280/72EB6FE4-C125-41BA-AB59-204F6F8472AF.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6kT5Lm_zmbrTwMVxnDqk6jQbXnFr-PUpAfqXHFGMlu-YIBTVnGddI2rXPn-w4V07baTY-Mjw94nPicTqIzJdmAaVSOJac9HnHvyDJE_d2YeOagCrKk2Kg0UYTevgpL8FLEm7ctJH-J123BfArA4CXtnTRV07kR3b15U9UFOCPtpZ-yGaSosmNTtyjSBsh/s320/72EB6FE4-C125-41BA-AB59-204F6F8472AF.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">(from top): Vera Constantineau, Kim Fahner,<br />and Roger Nash after their serenade.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFGGg655EFHCId-yQb3hMqIbP2Spq-QwRTV_dLfgJ8N9PiGuzmpkX85RZ8eO4o7QvTgQQ2MbdJQyvcwtF52Nct7XOhSyVg5Ek-ClqAnzRriEvrlPMM0PolSrWFq230EN6MEExbnimugVID0YNxW03it_KjOy1IqsUyV1Tl-neFNdYDQzwxde2LWZQqsUy3/s1512/IMG_7303.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1380" data-original-width="1512" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFGGg655EFHCId-yQb3hMqIbP2Spq-QwRTV_dLfgJ8N9PiGuzmpkX85RZ8eO4o7QvTgQQ2MbdJQyvcwtF52Nct7XOhSyVg5Ek-ClqAnzRriEvrlPMM0PolSrWFq230EN6MEExbnimugVID0YNxW03it_KjOy1IqsUyV1Tl-neFNdYDQzwxde2LWZQqsUy3/s320/IMG_7303.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">My view at Wordstock, Sudbury's Literary Festival,<br />just before my panel, "Good Grief," began. Lots of fun!</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">November also brought <a href="https://www.fiveminutelit.com/five-minutes/seebe-seen" target="_blank">my first new publication in a while</a>, at Five Minutes (<a href="http://fiveminutelit.com">fiveminutelit.com</a>). The short essay (100 words EXACTLY about a five-minute life episode) <a href="https://www.fiveminutelit.com/five-minutes/seebe-seen" target="_blank">"See/Be Seen"</a> is what I hope is only the first essay about my husband's dementia diagnosis. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">My 2019 essay collection, REVERBERATIONS: A DAUGHTER'S MEDITATIONS ON ALZHEIMER'S, examined how my family of origin handled (or didn't, especially) the changes brought as my mother's Alzheimer's developed. It also includes essays from after my parents' deaths--because, to my surprise, death doesn't necessarily mean the end of a relationship.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">My husband's dementia diagnosis is a fact--perhaps unpleasant, unwelcome, un-wished-on-anyone, but nevertheless a fact. He may not be able to do things the way he used to, but he's developed workarounds for some things and is releasing others. He's also finding new joys. He supports my writing about our experiences. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Most important, his determination to find beauty and happiness every day is unchanging, and he's carrying me with it. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">He was with me in Sudbury, listening to mamy panels on humour and poetry, as well as other topics, and cheering me on. I appreciate his support in this writing life we've created.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And speaking of Five Minutes, I'm one of the readers for December. It's a lot of fun to see how varied the submissions are. Have you thought of writing exactly 100 words about five minutes of your life? You should give it a whirl. </span></p>Marion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3380971292497229199.post-33207038718860937962023-10-29T01:36:00.001-04:002023-10-29T17:13:24.477-04:00Marathon Nov. 1 and Sudbury (and Online!) Nov. 2-4<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Exciting events in early November!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM2BRDgkpLcL8F3REWxe850K8MSeeLskVC8Dv-hCu7zdE1Tt5_t9o-sCz6-VLcFt1nlAz9QUxYhFXEB0J2251wnYw7uW_nLUAOpWwd10xGN95lcWkrjBfxW8xjUm8A0cXTDHmhYTTCbZ8A5oCpLiNTjzmYf73YKL2snonysx1wb12lno_B972kAoTvrIP3/s1080/Agnew_Marathon%20Library_Nov%201%20(Instagram%20Post).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM2BRDgkpLcL8F3REWxe850K8MSeeLskVC8Dv-hCu7zdE1Tt5_t9o-sCz6-VLcFt1nlAz9QUxYhFXEB0J2251wnYw7uW_nLUAOpWwd10xGN95lcWkrjBfxW8xjUm8A0cXTDHmhYTTCbZ8A5oCpLiNTjzmYf73YKL2snonysx1wb12lno_B972kAoTvrIP3/s320/Agnew_Marathon%20Library_Nov%201%20(Instagram%20Post).png" width="320" /></span></a></div><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">November 1 from 2 to 3 PM, I'm in conversation with David Giuliano at the Marathon Public Library. The event is free and open to the public. Come and ask questions about truth and fiction, perseverance, northern Ontario stories--anything you like!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">David is the author of THE UNDERTAKING OF BILLY BUFFONE, released in 2021 by Latitude 46 Publishing. You can find out more about him <a href="https://davidgiulianoca.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">here: davidgiuliano.ca</a>.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgq57Al0Hcxthol0Lv2fvxVQFCL7fGk01dhE-nJDLDvHVC3t5sgzY7y-jQruJzSAtj97S5B7Ya8AltlEC0KlxB5PxI893ENJRByuJjdG0msgMb9stMA4YMyyhhdNkIgePr1MHZRAO_Hl6wPAh8znX1NQf9OBdd-SxNV6tRO5Fi6e_LzZYa5dpDhy3X6bSQc" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="826" data-original-width="821" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgq57Al0Hcxthol0Lv2fvxVQFCL7fGk01dhE-nJDLDvHVC3t5sgzY7y-jQruJzSAtj97S5B7Ya8AltlEC0KlxB5PxI893ENJRByuJjdG0msgMb9stMA4YMyyhhdNkIgePr1MHZRAO_Hl6wPAh8znX1NQf9OBdd-SxNV6tRO5Fi6e_LzZYa5dpDhy3X6bSQc=w337-h338" width="337" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /><br /></span><p></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The 10th Wordstock Literary Festival runs from November 2 through 4, in Sudbury--and online! <a href="https://wordstocksudbury.ca/2023-festival" target="_blank">Find a link to the schedule-at-a-glance here</a>.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The event begins Thursday at 5:30 PM, with a poetry primer, followed by the festival kickoff event at 7. Events Friday begin at 6 PM and run all day on Saturday. Master Classes on humour and adapting material from one form to another kick off Saturday morning at 9, followed by festival panels and readings and culminating in the evening's gala celebration.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I'm on a panel entitled "Good Grief" with noted poet and editor Stuart Ross, author of many books, most recently THE BOOK OF GRIEF AND HAMBURGERS an extended poetic essay contemplating death and life. We'll talk about why we write about grief, even when we may not intend to, and the rewards inherent in the challenges. Moderated by Heather Campbell, publisher at Latitude 46, the conversation will be interesting and wide-ranging. Stuart's book is incisive and unsentimental.</span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">AND! Join us in person at Holiday Inn Sudbury or online! <a href="https://wordstocksudbury.ca/event/10th-edition-wordstock-sudbury-literary-festival" target="_blank">Ticket information is here.</a> Note that a reduced rate is available for students and those with fixed incomes. You can buy an all-access pass (the festival plus master classes), a regular festival pass, or tickets to individual events. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I'm really excited to have the opportunity to chat with readers and writers--about MAKING UP THE GODS, but also about writing and the power of creativity, especially in difficult times. </span></p>Marion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3380971292497229199.post-27543667440996822162023-10-25T12:12:00.001-04:002023-10-25T12:12:47.945-04:00What I'm Taking Through December<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Over the last year or so I've been posting thoughts about <a href="https://www.marionagnew.com/search/label/What%20I%20Took%20Into%20Months" target="_blank">what I learned or experienced in a particular month </a>and what I'll try to carry forward from that experience.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Subject to external pressures, of course. People visiting. Deadlines. Being immersed in living instead of reflecting on it.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">My novel has debuted, and I have a few events coming up. I'm editing a novel, revising another one, and writing on a new project that's stretching me in exciting ways. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">So the two things I'm holding throughout the rest of the year: gratitude and space.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXnTqbFOMTctdvWzW9SJBPCxb0mIKLYPs_WC0o7y5fVJ0uTDbYoeJGcknziWmbqIxEnKbj6yaA9rDtOAAx5VazzkbDGsbRxF44XV3Q3qwIL2dqzVw9hDyVnV7McDAW6lbGmVqpRxmfcdHiWLHffBTNF5r9ig00U3wsVo9m6fiwhxljzWW42WgAVggqCW_n/s2016/IMG_1653.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXnTqbFOMTctdvWzW9SJBPCxb0mIKLYPs_WC0o7y5fVJ0uTDbYoeJGcknziWmbqIxEnKbj6yaA9rDtOAAx5VazzkbDGsbRxF44XV3Q3qwIL2dqzVw9hDyVnV7McDAW6lbGmVqpRxmfcdHiWLHffBTNF5r9ig00U3wsVo9m6fiwhxljzWW42WgAVggqCW_n/s320/IMG_1653.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">My book filling a table at our <br />local independent bookstore.<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh7VVgXTc9Q54XW-6vhOjXitcL11fd6MwDHG6fh1IvipmMKnHqahyphenhyphenp5N_eZmcEkEq3Hej2S40PxqRZMKrImWVkVcfFMBzOcs_wtgCF8NS_NEdPF0XxUokubPnm5XZlL2eVFSXxyGlK3c0Mk-qqe5xNTZYNLJQ_RBRq58uslLcei-KdcvlW9QBr1CmDpAkg/s1544/IMG_7128.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1544" data-original-width="1158" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh7VVgXTc9Q54XW-6vhOjXitcL11fd6MwDHG6fh1IvipmMKnHqahyphenhyphenp5N_eZmcEkEq3Hej2S40PxqRZMKrImWVkVcfFMBzOcs_wtgCF8NS_NEdPF0XxUokubPnm5XZlL2eVFSXxyGlK3c0Mk-qqe5xNTZYNLJQ_RBRq58uslLcei-KdcvlW9QBr1CmDpAkg/s320/IMG_7128.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Me, back home after the launch, <br />exhausted and happy, <br />with flowers from my family.<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAYmnhsYWTRoKjtMOEBfK5WobF_mGYAKFyi69DD1m5iovszSPj1R-tqbahzo857iWhv_UZin41Xl2ba4CmzU5faNVDHwJqt4JXBn9auQGIzRlRk4a4pZoktLARRaXbbkKwYSEkdw6sAWIh-xdINBLPyfQIqBGDr5sv8kS3iAqDnwaQsrIqO1HG1n-Wkccl/s1280/IMG_7215.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAYmnhsYWTRoKjtMOEBfK5WobF_mGYAKFyi69DD1m5iovszSPj1R-tqbahzo857iWhv_UZin41Xl2ba4CmzU5faNVDHwJqt4JXBn9auQGIzRlRk4a4pZoktLARRaXbbkKwYSEkdw6sAWIh-xdINBLPyfQIqBGDr5sv8kS3iAqDnwaQsrIqO1HG1n-Wkccl/s320/IMG_7215.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">As if filling a table in the bookstore weren't enough,<br />this is my book IN THE WINDOW <br />with the new release by Jean E. Pendziwol </span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3mC7_gJCqhCgTYTtFlVTZzdyOEwqs0Bu11T17bw6xj3H6Kc8x_5DrFrADii7aMSkgOOZWzaMUjyy75BCoUyDw4QC1LDHMX2p4PT7GYab4YSirE8xICGQYqd3J1TB2Xe1HV85fj-bonUt7UzRATshTxOFDMidty7YrP_ZcDTddLfmDek-6xjDIvZxL9JeH/s2016/IMG_7162.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3mC7_gJCqhCgTYTtFlVTZzdyOEwqs0Bu11T17bw6xj3H6Kc8x_5DrFrADii7aMSkgOOZWzaMUjyy75BCoUyDw4QC1LDHMX2p4PT7GYab4YSirE8xICGQYqd3J1TB2Xe1HV85fj-bonUt7UzRATshTxOFDMidty7YrP_ZcDTddLfmDek-6xjDIvZxL9JeH/s320/IMG_7162.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The birch on a recent golden morning. <br />It has fewer leaves now.<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMnxPXnFvxkSykFQnWkI18IcKDXNVthmfJOfgEmkyJq779LYwZ_FcvO9mlftB66p_PCYB7UMq4mBGTzLngtaHX6b2SPc-MpMIYfB5S9UfNTt_jgTA3QTcRrbL2M-G5MxDtuzNgstULgWTwGbrAsXBjsqRz_liUwFuxcb-XpetcussSY9OZ1qQmSH7-SvaQ/s2016/IMG_7171.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMnxPXnFvxkSykFQnWkI18IcKDXNVthmfJOfgEmkyJq779LYwZ_FcvO9mlftB66p_PCYB7UMq4mBGTzLngtaHX6b2SPc-MpMIYfB5S9UfNTt_jgTA3QTcRrbL2M-G5MxDtuzNgstULgWTwGbrAsXBjsqRz_liUwFuxcb-XpetcussSY9OZ1qQmSH7-SvaQ/s320/IMG_7171.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Some days, the sky and the clouds <br />are beyond words. Yet I still try.<br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Gratitude because I had the opportunity to do a thing, and now I'll have a bit of a window to share the excitement and this work with others. People will get to read about these imaginary people I've known for a decade or more! </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Gratitude at being part of a large and supportive community of writers, readers, and artists of all sorts. Saying this doesn't seem like enough, so I say it often, and I mean it every time.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I'm also grateful for the opportunity to live here. I mean: it never grows old.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And space because I've been online a lot, thinking about and working on projects related to MAKING UP THE GODS, and I'm coming into a time when I need some space to do my best work.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Which is not to say I'll never post here. I'll certainly share news! I am travelling, and I have at least one new publication on the horizon. But I'll be working more and talking about it less. And resting in between. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">This year has had its moments. I'm grateful that for me so many of those moments brought projects to fruition. I hold space for those for whom this year has brought destruction and violence. I wish them the light of an early morning sun, one that shines through golden birch leaves. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p>Marion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3380971292497229199.post-59040099451977392792023-10-18T11:30:00.001-04:002023-10-18T17:28:47.674-04:00Launch Gratitude<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">MAKING UP THE GODS launched on Sunday! Here's just a little of the gratitude I expressed that day at Thunder Bay's independent bookstore, Entershine Bookshop. I feel more grateful every day for the support and the opportunity to share this story with readers. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Thank
you so much for being here with me today. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6rU86Jg5s9ymKLlHS0Q1yFb2Fcq0gr1h-NrI2NT74G8oODqqAWgMiU2nIT58dINwNAAwYKEmKaMqypYwgJyTDYxa4QmuOpDcD1UggESuI_RmVPpm-AePiq4FbDB3CmRi7U7bLab952T4jVBdx9Bsg827Mj17GFoqibVaOeDcCwfgtoQJ9WPfVf2yCkcwe/s1080/Resized_20231015_132457.JPEG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1012" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6rU86Jg5s9ymKLlHS0Q1yFb2Fcq0gr1h-NrI2NT74G8oODqqAWgMiU2nIT58dINwNAAwYKEmKaMqypYwgJyTDYxa4QmuOpDcD1UggESuI_RmVPpm-AePiq4FbDB3CmRi7U7bLab952T4jVBdx9Bsg827Mj17GFoqibVaOeDcCwfgtoQJ9WPfVf2yCkcwe/w232-h247/Resized_20231015_132457.JPEG" width="232" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The view from the audience <br />at Entershine Bookshop</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">To
start, I acknowledge as a grateful guest that I live and write on lands of
Anishinaabe and Metis peoples, in Robinson-Superior treaty territory, and I am
reckoning with my family’s settler roots. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Making
Up the Gods is the first novel I’ve finished, but it’s not the first one I
started. I worked on three other novels, even starting a new one after I’d
tried imagining my way through this book. Making Up the Gods itself has felt
like several novels along the way. BUT this, at last, is the story that kept bringing
me back to the page for a dozen years, through many versions. In fact, the work
continued until the end of December last year, when I submitted my final
revision to Latitude 46. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I’ve
had a lot of help along the way, from individuals and groups. I’ll start with
groups. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr_w3a4VTNBj2qaHV7TQfaAb33GQxn2_kfi4dNdxK-tOr1GZBZkgjH0KRe2IT_Awk34GSETM3PURN0YdkUN4T68O75cpfvVpPPq3LB9RIQ8sSGXwqTiOYsmW-LGkHO7n0ir0N8cLk7g1W4AqTLZfUF5cn1skQhgOnj5hXcSU1vjDF1I1L70w0uJoSeLoWu/s1080/Resized_20231015_131024.JPEG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1036" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr_w3a4VTNBj2qaHV7TQfaAb33GQxn2_kfi4dNdxK-tOr1GZBZkgjH0KRe2IT_Awk34GSETM3PURN0YdkUN4T68O75cpfvVpPPq3LB9RIQ8sSGXwqTiOYsmW-LGkHO7n0ir0N8cLk7g1W4AqTLZfUF5cn1skQhgOnj5hXcSU1vjDF1I1L70w0uJoSeLoWu/s320/Resized_20231015_131024.JPEG" width="307" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Thanking everyone. Well, <br />not "everyone." I'd still <br />be there if I tried to do that.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="line-height: 200%;"><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">The
Canada Council for the Arts, through the Writer’s Union of Canada Public
Readings Program, helps make sure that artists have time and space to share their work across the country. That support made this launch
possible.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The
Ontario Arts Council awards many kinds of grants to writers and independent
Ontario publishers. Their support made this book possible. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I
found colleagues in the Northwestern Ontario Writers Workshop. NOWW provides
opportunities to develop your skills and to share your work. It’s also a place
to meet all types of writers who have all types of goals. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The
Laughing Fox Writers group, an informal den of folks who gather periodically,
has provided a sense of camaraderie. The kind that’s necessary when you’ve just
tossed out 1/3 of your novel and you know that was the right thing to do, but
you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And
of course I appreciate the support of Latitude 46 Publishing in Sudbury, for
their dedication to telling stories of the north. I was thrilled when they
inquired about using an image from a local artist on the cover. Erin Stewart
did a magnificent job of creating an evocative and inviting collage that tells
a story. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Writers
need to know other writers, but they also need to know other artists and other
communities. People in the greater arts community in Thunder Bay are thriving
and doing many cool things, whether they’re in theatre, food, dance, visual
art, or music of all kinds. Creativity supports creativity.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I’m
also greatly indebted to readers. For more than ten years, I’ve belonged to a
book club, whose members who are passionate about books and reading and who
challenge me to read beyond my comfort zone. And just in general, I’m so
grateful that people read, whatever they’re into, for whatever reason. Reading
is an act of hope. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Another
community: the folks at Trinity United Church welcomed my parents when they
retired and began spending summers up here, and when I moved here, they kept
their arms open wide, providing a safe place for me. Special thanks to Randy
Boyd for examining the big questions in his sermons and inspiring me to keep
turning them over and over, through many years. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhhsGQ5Of_hi586frWLMCPZ5j7gNmH8whbP81SFjM8L9OYOzR4v2GDOggbCWheYiVSLR_m3Mov6Ohoe6Kb9krfPm4NhC4XXvMRe5Ht9imcKAJ4A0a7Rg_ib8BoGzQxFkY8gQURtf18iEcGUgyJt-oFm9FgqCwjimzcPSmLcBKqZESFWn-J3_NSgeyqzpmn/s4080/IMG_7166.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="2720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhhsGQ5Of_hi586frWLMCPZ5j7gNmH8whbP81SFjM8L9OYOzR4v2GDOggbCWheYiVSLR_m3Mov6Ohoe6Kb9krfPm4NhC4XXvMRe5Ht9imcKAJ4A0a7Rg_ib8BoGzQxFkY8gQURtf18iEcGUgyJt-oFm9FgqCwjimzcPSmLcBKqZESFWn-J3_NSgeyqzpmn/s320/IMG_7166.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Me (right) with Jean E. Pendziwol, <br />whose new picture book, <br />SKATING WILD ON AN INLAND SEA,<br />released this month and <br />will be celebrated in November. Can't wait!</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="line-height: 200%;"><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Now
I’ll thank some individuals. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">For
years, Marianne Jones and Maureen Nadin and I met on Friday mornings at Calico
Coffeehouse to commiserate about the writing life. Their encouragement has
helped sustain my creativity.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Writers Susan Goldberg and Rebekah Skochinski helped me revise the essays that
went into my first book, and, because they are absolute SHEROES, they gave
feedback on TWO different drafts of this novel. Likewise, Jean E. Pendziwol and
Cathi Winslow read an even later, but no less messy, draft. The feedback and
questions through all these drafts helped me figure out what I REALLY wanted to
say. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And
mostly I need to thank Roy, for all the things. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Then I read from the beginning of the book--some from each of the three narrators. MAKING UP THE GODS is now available from your favourite bookstore and from the publisher, <a href="https://latitude46publishing.com/">Latitude 46 Publishing</a>. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I hope this post shows just how many people it takes to bring stories into the world. It's a privilege to know they supported mine. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></p><p></p>Marion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3380971292497229199.post-75883164529476405132023-10-09T11:49:00.003-04:002023-10-09T11:49:45.701-04:00Launching October 15<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Hello, everyone! My novel, MAKING UP THE GODS, is launching at Entershine Bookshop (196 Algoma Street S, Thunder Bay, Ontario) on Sunday, October 15, from 1 to 3.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3IEs__bejJrGO5ZoQT8T_nkkiMB6ypXxLRZ_7SOIWIyvpPbirUlRMRrHuWy4nfY_WCC6Ky6VDHDjgRfbYG3PkTJK_XJ11W3El1LRZvY6-_TXLM0h-CKpDeuts4xxVLDhzZuWmZYgYPAZzGqELrkMZDvPO1aq504xQvJbUI0PWYXeY1U1b5-ZBYrlmL4xG/s3637/IMG_7025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3637" data-original-width="2788" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3IEs__bejJrGO5ZoQT8T_nkkiMB6ypXxLRZ_7SOIWIyvpPbirUlRMRrHuWy4nfY_WCC6Ky6VDHDjgRfbYG3PkTJK_XJ11W3El1LRZvY6-_TXLM0h-CKpDeuts4xxVLDhzZuWmZYgYPAZzGqELrkMZDvPO1aq504xQvJbUI0PWYXeY1U1b5-ZBYrlmL4xG/s320/IMG_7025.jpg" width="245" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">A recent glorious morning, <br />with the birch tree's golden leaves <br />lit by the rising sun</span></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Here's what you can expect: </span></p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Doors open at 12:30</span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">There will likely be cookies and coffee</span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">You could also buy a copy of the book</span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The event proper will get underway about 1</span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Someone will introduce me</span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I'll thank everybody I ever met and some I haven't (kidding but also not)</span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I'll read from my new novel (exciting!!)</span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I'll answer questions (ask me about the cover!)</span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I'll be available to sign books until 3 but you don't have to stay that long</span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">At some point I'll draw a name to receive the gift basket of Entershine goodies (items appropriate to this novel and also in general to stories from the north!)</span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We all go to our homes, individually, and read. </span></li></ul><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I am so incredibly grateful for the official support I've received as an artist, specifically <b>the financial assistance from The Canada Council for the Arts through The Writer's Union of Canada </b>through their public readings program, as well as artist support to write this book from the <b>Ontario Arts Council through their Literature Office's Creator Grants</b>. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I'm also grateful to Latitude 46 Publishing, dedicated to telling stories of Northern Ontario, for releasing this novel into the wilds--and again, to the <b>Ontario Arts Council </b>for supporting independent publishing programs.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">In some ways, a book launch is the culmination of a long process, starting when the main character of my novel said to me one day, "I crave butter," and continuing for many long years of finding out what else she and others had to say, and saying it in a way that connected with readers.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">But in some ways, the launch is only the beginning. Sure, other people have read the book along the way, and some have read the finished product. But the launch marks the official moment when I have to let go and allow Simone, Martin, and Chen to me go live in the wider world, among readers. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And that makes me the most grateful of all. Thank you, readers of everything, everywhere. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p>Marion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3380971292497229199.post-53544329835666862252023-09-26T16:30:00.000-04:002023-09-26T16:30:59.722-04:00Advance Praise for MAKING UP THE GODS <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjebyz2NCmU9SAsx3VIWXDYvcBPqS3zhGvPUTNkS_ECDkdqMFPcuwiA9DLk9s31bFYdWdWrmshZe8wQ1rjlUjM50tjhEIpXWRYUb24489AHAVY76binuadoxjrmEr1VM0N45aF63r49F5mTmJjRv6hnrvhbp-edz8fZFMJ9aCLU6sOKknwxzoE2wfYvmadY/s3000/Making%20Up%20the%20Gods_FINAL%20FC_April%2025,%202023.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="1941" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjebyz2NCmU9SAsx3VIWXDYvcBPqS3zhGvPUTNkS_ECDkdqMFPcuwiA9DLk9s31bFYdWdWrmshZe8wQ1rjlUjM50tjhEIpXWRYUb24489AHAVY76binuadoxjrmEr1VM0N45aF63r49F5mTmJjRv6hnrvhbp-edz8fZFMJ9aCLU6sOKknwxzoE2wfYvmadY/s320/Making%20Up%20the%20Gods_FINAL%20FC_April%2025,%202023.JPEG" width="207" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">People have said nice things about my debut novel ahead of its official launch on October 15. It's humbling and I'm so grateful to everyone who's had a hand in helping this story reach readers. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">It's available for preorder wherever books are sold, both brick-and-mortar locations and online. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Here's a suggestion: Perhaps ask your local independent bookstore to order it--and if you don't have a local independent bookstore, check out <a href="https://bookshop.org/" target="_blank">Bookshop.org,</a> where your online purchases support independent bookstores. They even have <a href="https://bookshop.org/shop/AllLitUp" target="_blank">an agreement with All Lit Up, a consortium of Canadian Independent Publishers</a>! </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And yes! It's also available to order from the large chain bookstores in both the US and Canada. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: #fdfdfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 15px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: 700;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">PRAISE FOR MAKING UP THE GODS</span></span></span></p><p style="background-color: #fdfdfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 15px;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Full of humour and heart, Marion Agnew’s debut novel is both a love letter to northern Ontario, and a moving meditation on grief, community, and family—the one we are born with, and the one we choose. No matter where you are in the world, reading <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Making Up the Gods</em> will make you feel like you are standing on the shores of Lake Superior, and, like the memory of skipping rocks across the water or spotting the silhouette of a bear on the horizon, this story and these characters will stay with you for a long time.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><span data-mce-fragment="1" style="box-sizing: border-box;">—</span>Amy Jones, author of <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">We're All in This Together</em> and <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Pebble & Dove</em><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></span></p><p style="background-color: #fdfdfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 15px;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="background-color: #fdfdfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 15px;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">How do we learn to trust in the wake of sudden tragedy? In <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Making Up the Gods</em>, three grieving strangers—an elderly widow, a young boy, and a middle-aged alcoholic in tenuous recovery—meet on the cusp of spring at a lakeside camp to face down their ghosts, their fears, and a pair of hungry bears. In the process, they forge connection, friendship, even something like family. This wise, funny, and generous-hearted novel shows us how shared labour and shared love for a distinctive landscape can become a vehicle for healing, mutual understanding, and growth.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><span data-mce-fragment="1" style="box-sizing: border-box;">—</span>Susan Olding, author of <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Big Reader</em></span></p><p style="background-color: #fdfdfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 15px;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="background-color: #fdfdfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 15px;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">Marion Agnew gathers together a cast of unlikely characters and sets them on the shore of Lake Superior with their ghosts. While each of them holds on to the past, like a collection of rocks plucked from the shore, it's their connection to each other that helps them find the strength to surrender their loss like stones returned to the sea. A heartwarming story of grief, love and hope, the healing power of community and the creation of family through shared experiences, friendship and trust. You'll be charmed by Chen, cherish Simone and cheer for Martin as their lives intersect in <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Making Up the Gods</em>. A welcome addition to stories set in Northwestern Ontario where characters draw strength and inspiration from the inland sea that is Lake Superior.<br data-mce-fragment="1" style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><span data-mce-fragment="1" style="box-sizing: border-box;">—</span>Jean E. Pendziwol, bestselling author of <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">The Lightkeeper's Daughters</em></span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></span></p><p style="background-color: #fdfdfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 15px;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><em style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br /></em></span></span></p><p style="background-color: #fdfdfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 15px;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">Marion Agnew's novel, <i>Making Up the Gods</i>, explores the effects of loss and grief on individuals and communities and our intrinsic need for connection. When three strangers' lives intersect in a Northern Ontario town in the wake of a tragedy, unlikely friendships are formed and the path to healing begins. With vivid prose and humorous insight, Agnew's haunting novel will stay with the reader long after the last page.<br />—Liisa Kovala, author of <i>Sisu's Winter War</i></span></span></span></p><p style="background-color: #fdfdfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 15px;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="background-color: #fdfdfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 15px;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="background-color: #fdfdfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 15px;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"> </span></span></span></p><p style="background-color: #fdfdfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 15px;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><em style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br /></em></span></span></p><p style="background-color: #fdfdfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 15px;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span></p>Marion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3380971292497229199.post-71202923442717950122023-09-13T10:30:00.006-04:002023-09-13T10:30:00.176-04:00What I’m Taking into September<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">A Fitbit. I’m learning a lot, which I’ll talk more about at some future time. But let’s just say I respond well to step counts.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcyYmhXaIpCuf959KERfxT8Porsh5dM481qGra_0lPaEuJ7xua6XT1as10cWuGtdlkIKpv1_k-bimgWhr0IfpcHNalE16td9ppzJ9tTAfH4VE3Aw8XQMsp0785MeHghgOi7tzZWG_cK1OH_PZCtVzotuFAjg9YPtKvkgmArQpgPCLekdrfJrLRzcU_5BUn/s4032/IMG_6712.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcyYmhXaIpCuf959KERfxT8Porsh5dM481qGra_0lPaEuJ7xua6XT1as10cWuGtdlkIKpv1_k-bimgWhr0IfpcHNalE16td9ppzJ9tTAfH4VE3Aw8XQMsp0785MeHghgOi7tzZWG_cK1OH_PZCtVzotuFAjg9YPtKvkgmArQpgPCLekdrfJrLRzcU_5BUn/s320/IMG_6712.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">A proofed manuscript and cover of my novel, Making Up the Gods, which launches in one month!*</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">A new refrigerator, plus a bar fridge that served in the pinch between a fridge on the fritz, a fridge that we ordered and paid for that never arrived, and at last a fridge that was delivered.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPbXZRMuyoYc7n4txPnfyD6uLZeK2zqjW8ipsVH71I1hPlq4ud-RiNQZQoKZ8Ma40cln2BI6j6z4UoRpN-cGHtQmz5vUSi_yjHjXb9EimThG4MYmy_4SPtngxVQnC1GY9jhLa0miBKLn4P3zf9FLBtS73h02Su86mNQ0G2J-1OL5An0GgonZJFt8go2nf-/s1660/IMG_6705.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1584" data-original-width="1660" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPbXZRMuyoYc7n4txPnfyD6uLZeK2zqjW8ipsVH71I1hPlq4ud-RiNQZQoKZ8Ma40cln2BI6j6z4UoRpN-cGHtQmz5vUSi_yjHjXb9EimThG4MYmy_4SPtngxVQnC1GY9jhLa0miBKLn4P3zf9FLBtS73h02Su86mNQ0G2J-1OL5An0GgonZJFt8go2nf-/s320/IMG_6705.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">A reduced need to worry about the house’s plumbing! Our septic tank is freshly pumped. Because we know how to have all the fun here, folks. (There’s more fun ahead, as is the way with household projects.)</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">A month’s worth of memories with my sister, who helped proof my book and helped me pick up spices from Penzey’s in Minneapolis (not as easy as it sounds; those places smell great and hold the possibilities for a million meals). We’d seen each other briefly a year ago, but she hasn’t come up here for four years. It was great to have her here.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIdO78YszitWUsJym1DY0S9Jqw1EWXiIQZIm-eEMfoOoJ6tqKZOl7dl7P3zvfcwcUqO7vPuigAksXmVuFd6bsJJn8Z3SROHcEb9uLy8o0pSACxsh3QYge-FNX6rXcLTo6KgdeGqTUFlB84Cb_ImZbi2dKOj20YTH9QZao722B_qYJTP77LQvgdD-_W9uvB/s4032/IMG_6702.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIdO78YszitWUsJym1DY0S9Jqw1EWXiIQZIm-eEMfoOoJ6tqKZOl7dl7P3zvfcwcUqO7vPuigAksXmVuFd6bsJJn8Z3SROHcEb9uLy8o0pSACxsh3QYge-FNX6rXcLTo6KgdeGqTUFlB84Cb_ImZbi2dKOj20YTH9QZao722B_qYJTP77LQvgdD-_W9uvB/s320/IMG_6702.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">A sense of possibility, a stirring of new projects, new insight into stories I already know. The best feeling.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">___________________________</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">* to read more about the book, <a href="https://www.marionagnew.com/p/making-up-gods.html">go here</a>. And to order a copy, here are some options: </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">ask your local bookstore to order it for you and maybe a couple more copies because you're sure your friends will like it too!</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">order </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">from </span><a href="http://bookshop.org/" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;" target="_blank">Bookshop.org</a><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> in either the US or </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Canada <a href="https://bookshop.org/shop/AllLitUp">All Lit Up Canada Bookshop</a> </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">or order from </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">a chain like Barnes & Noble or Indigo.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><ul><li><br /></li></ul>Marion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3380971292497229199.post-89340682232698148822023-09-06T10:30:00.001-04:002023-09-06T10:30:00.159-04:00Book: Breathe Cry Breathe<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Breathe Cry Breathe, by Catherine Gourdier</b></span></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVu76KMVNvNJCs9xjm_YzzaG3z9xGL6LuawF2vTtqSbTxC08Ws-RZDX4kziebzRpOHhFzG_WDma0FXnlzpz5R4yOFO8_0crQrm4W9FLCiWTTKZyidaTtLEe4XU5iE_DpMSYyKNsUq6gEqVF8fQb2cqztweUfG3e3d7HXAg5r5dS6_xViG5QmTs1UVEvcRW/s4032/IMG_6676.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVu76KMVNvNJCs9xjm_YzzaG3z9xGL6LuawF2vTtqSbTxC08Ws-RZDX4kziebzRpOHhFzG_WDma0FXnlzpz5R4yOFO8_0crQrm4W9FLCiWTTKZyidaTtLEe4XU5iE_DpMSYyKNsUq6gEqVF8fQb2cqztweUfG3e3d7HXAg5r5dS6_xViG5QmTs1UVEvcRW/s320/IMG_6676.jpg" width="240" /></span></a><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The subtitle of this memoir is “From Sorrow to Strength in the Aftermath of Sudden Tragic Loss,” and it’s an apt description.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">In a very short time, Catherine Gourdier unexpectedly lost her mother and her youngest sister in a traffic accident, and her father died of a broken heart a few months later.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; text-align: center;">These are the kind of losses that prompt innumerable questions, perhaps especially “why?” Everyone affected by the death may answer those questions differently.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; text-align: center;">Certainly each of Catherine’s siblings coped with their losses in different ways.</span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; text-align: center;">If you’ve ever felt unmoored after a loved one’s death, reading this book will help you see that there is no one way, no right way, to grieve—there’s only your way.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p>Marion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3380971292497229199.post-76116262280485804292023-09-02T12:11:00.002-04:002023-09-02T12:15:26.874-04:00August II (in September)<div style="height: 0px; text-align: left;"><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgQeoaMFHlobxN3jxo7Hqsc55EY6Dp8jm93El3dyFRmD9jicAfmsc3UGygzLmZJU028EmazUbUGTinwxmXplsyX9aAkJScyxqrLeTAkYB5zIPsPQLd5tLhRhrt8dXIN8uCUPcpcS10zH0in54OtJ9YRJnQnsrMHza1wxL6ZuZiO-hahwxHiUPfrND8jJgN/s4032/IMG_6624.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgQeoaMFHlobxN3jxo7Hqsc55EY6Dp8jm93El3dyFRmD9jicAfmsc3UGygzLmZJU028EmazUbUGTinwxmXplsyX9aAkJScyxqrLeTAkYB5zIPsPQLd5tLhRhrt8dXIN8uCUPcpcS10zH0in54OtJ9YRJnQnsrMHza1wxL6ZuZiO-hahwxHiUPfrND8jJgN/s320/IMG_6624.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">This year, August had so many rainy days that was easy to forget the sunny ones.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Which isn’t a bad thing. Rainy days aren’t doomed to be bad days. No need to assign value judgments. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Especially because rainy days fill the well, the physical one from which we draw water for the house.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">In theory, I want to have the flexibility of spirit to leave my desk and play outdoors on “nice weather” days and leave indoor tasks for “bad weather” days.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">This summer, practice has shown me something different.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLfk0fqs1i4F_TTCf6ngsFnbaPFppeuz5TvwZFU_kyO8he0U9cXXI-QuWu2b0ExwzWneW16BX_UjGm0Vjf5uPy7MFcNA_xzYw6ZWl7_yF_9XCcow_tF48LyzMdMxpy-6lijsiy05bY9u4wun7PiGluMMQSw8_4L37BHKl8kfrmOqMuU6MXgoWSKNkn9JAK/s4032/IMG_6563.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLfk0fqs1i4F_TTCf6ngsFnbaPFppeuz5TvwZFU_kyO8he0U9cXXI-QuWu2b0ExwzWneW16BX_UjGm0Vjf5uPy7MFcNA_xzYw6ZWl7_yF_9XCcow_tF48LyzMdMxpy-6lijsiy05bY9u4wun7PiGluMMQSw8_4L37BHKl8kfrmOqMuU6MXgoWSKNkn9JAK/s320/IMG_6563.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Sailboat Races!</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I like my work, my indoor work, the writing stuff. I like it enough to miss being outdoors on sunny days—to skip the activities I could be doing—in favour of taking my last look at the interior of my forthcoming novel and then creating some draft marketing materials.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I like finishing things, and meeting deadlines, and always (always, always) trying to exceed expectations—others’ and my own.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">It doesn’t feel like work. It feels like being myself.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I also feel like myself when I’m outdoors, doing things there.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I enjoy pulling overgrown beach peas to reveal the sand and rocks beneath. I even like trying to corral beach detritus into tidy piles to be moved to a heap, where they will eventually become soil. Of course I appreciate hanging out on the beach watching sailboat races.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjufIULd0I_0kZDjGYgedRJ59AJTPbEy7lGTqf0tA1EMfd1fGk46tV_4Td4S4FUVud0CP2NSWsmyGU9A6f1T194NL_9jzYZbwzoSVatcTY7hdfsIEA4PJHkpeJ3JdBXEBgOLkNSZoa3K3E4dzjyIoe9bmxq46GvDgeTaMlTSFagRLRnKQKd_B9_ccEu8n1i/s2893/IMG_6570%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2893" data-original-width="2169" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjufIULd0I_0kZDjGYgedRJ59AJTPbEy7lGTqf0tA1EMfd1fGk46tV_4Td4S4FUVud0CP2NSWsmyGU9A6f1T194NL_9jzYZbwzoSVatcTY7hdfsIEA4PJHkpeJ3JdBXEBgOLkNSZoa3K3E4dzjyIoe9bmxq46GvDgeTaMlTSFagRLRnKQKd_B9_ccEu8n1i/s320/IMG_6570%20(1).jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me in My Happy Place</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And I had plenty of fun, too, while my sister was here. We walked to the neighborhood Little Free Library. We had Happy Hour on the deck. I even learned to light the gas grill (Canadian: barbecue) without shrieking, which makes grilling meat and vegetables a lot more fun.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">It’s just that this now, this August, my inside tasks took priority, rain or shine. They won't always--each year is different, and I've known that since before the pandemic--and that will be OK too.</span></p><p style="height: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /><br /></span></p></div>Marion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3380971292497229199.post-46399061862156811462023-08-10T17:07:00.001-04:002023-08-10T17:07:43.440-04:00August I<p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Here's how August has been, so far.</span></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Refrigerator thermometers and hopeful ignorance, the old lie: “I think it’s getting better.” Tying up many projects at once, tech support calls and coaching (“say this”) and revisions. New ideas simmering gently in the background.<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqyWSYrcqjwgOuAjeOnSVX3R5HR07oINHw8NPZnO9ZMcrb84Pbt-oP7SxFQQFLwb_uDtOcyKG4zTYH2hlnMfTQ7JPycToSI_XGZmefosJFJy5k4tZA6us4X_35TmUg-VAoP0LbWLLj-njtcK6EAwJORUHwEg4LEJSt-OKajuk3sAnYBBWroLVDWsECo9d8/s2016/IMG_6440.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqyWSYrcqjwgOuAjeOnSVX3R5HR07oINHw8NPZnO9ZMcrb84Pbt-oP7SxFQQFLwb_uDtOcyKG4zTYH2hlnMfTQ7JPycToSI_XGZmefosJFJy5k4tZA6us4X_35TmUg-VAoP0LbWLLj-njtcK6EAwJORUHwEg4LEJSt-OKajuk3sAnYBBWroLVDWsECo9d8/s320/IMG_6440.jpg" width="240" /></span></a><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Fresh Ontario peaches in bowl rimmed in stripes of a summer day: the sky’s clear blue, the sun’s mid morning gold, and the green of mature birch leaves.</span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6MBDeiLl90GEso5sBhF5ZXt0NfcChzKyX2Q0Pe3z1OmrfEsSQnZvnPC1eQ8UrkluJPw3leMoMd6ojHrB18aNbW4HAvVlIxtcTxPjgX2oaez27Fd4N1ELTjz47mY4gdFPMV8-Bxj7YOKZkxV9MFIO23Gd1p2_v-CGvu4H99uvJsVuHHE_jNX2f1gmD2jUh/s2016/IMG_6451.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6MBDeiLl90GEso5sBhF5ZXt0NfcChzKyX2Q0Pe3z1OmrfEsSQnZvnPC1eQ8UrkluJPw3leMoMd6ojHrB18aNbW4HAvVlIxtcTxPjgX2oaez27Fd4N1ELTjz47mY4gdFPMV8-Bxj7YOKZkxV9MFIO23Gd1p2_v-CGvu4H99uvJsVuHHE_jNX2f1gmD2jUh/s320/IMG_6451.jpg" width="240" /></a><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Realistic purchases on unrealistic timelines. Stopgap measures, making do, gratitude for the ability to buy a temporary fix at a hardware store. A dry well, and other season-based solutions.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBQ3rXg_kG9EUHHd_zQE_SRYmhiHSZ77eRT0VdIh-EarbLEcOHzUs9jedZCerFwHMjj8g4CIedOTwpBVbImzTss3VRN55mmtxeMpT6_Tl-0nT_j88sl8dsqZYaYmFNtELZ-2jL8TlFdYLOonVmSXFKLmFPV2D81xve5Vuk1-eMxNOnO5ACgWkJrgx-Jfs7/s2016/IMG_6441.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBQ3rXg_kG9EUHHd_zQE_SRYmhiHSZ77eRT0VdIh-EarbLEcOHzUs9jedZCerFwHMjj8g4CIedOTwpBVbImzTss3VRN55mmtxeMpT6_Tl-0nT_j88sl8dsqZYaYmFNtELZ-2jL8TlFdYLOonVmSXFKLmFPV2D81xve5Vuk1-eMxNOnO5ACgWkJrgx-Jfs7/s320/IMG_6441.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span><p></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Planning for future delights. A trip into new/old/familiar territory, reuniting with family. A side quest to explore a world of spice, special mixes for future delights.</span></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFmEOxXxzXaSXNNvS9rrLvAiZ0JPpz8ZUh4yntUr8BlR0fybpSviceHzo1MM1-hAd4_OGbHF6vKx3ejDYZil1TiB_-2XTPX0Q_8bGIhX9lellvJJXGzVZza73Uyd_n0cjhPLibEgxn_xRrsyWN0kvvPcZ3oCi_-g8q6T64LJ6UdILGYCI2d-JkecNn-0_c/s2016/IMG_6456.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFmEOxXxzXaSXNNvS9rrLvAiZ0JPpz8ZUh4yntUr8BlR0fybpSviceHzo1MM1-hAd4_OGbHF6vKx3ejDYZil1TiB_-2XTPX0Q_8bGIhX9lellvJJXGzVZza73Uyd_n0cjhPLibEgxn_xRrsyWN0kvvPcZ3oCi_-g8q6T64LJ6UdILGYCI2d-JkecNn-0_c/s320/IMG_6456.jpg" width="240" /></a><br /><br /></span></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Return, but on a different schedule. Moments bottling the new ideas that have simmered for weeks. Afternoon snacks at Pleasant Time.</span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWv4zTId4KTWnAc-UEbYqPhcgxPQNL1aqi3kxPQ9gVrRS_RMCDacmGzD_dH-pkTB_QaEdDBA5wfuh8IZIV9bOLA9U-I1catGWhstg1isCcTQAWePOcyqwpuyMuAtVAiCIHKvHrAvUrpl6MgIcoVQb6xUEIXSZ-sEgOhXaARHL0wVXiLv0uQtqEGJm22XeH/s2016/IMG_6476.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWv4zTId4KTWnAc-UEbYqPhcgxPQNL1aqi3kxPQ9gVrRS_RMCDacmGzD_dH-pkTB_QaEdDBA5wfuh8IZIV9bOLA9U-I1catGWhstg1isCcTQAWePOcyqwpuyMuAtVAiCIHKvHrAvUrpl6MgIcoVQb6xUEIXSZ-sEgOhXaARHL0wVXiLv0uQtqEGJm22XeH/s320/IMG_6476.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Scheduled deliveries, more customer service conversations. A new refrigerator—new appreciation for life’s technological support.</span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOcYQ1l-zInXKyNrcgKYV4NWB-ZFYy8ejoS7mltNhCcT-gjyj2eI7QRQYCdlRX178-y2ICRWv7qC1kgtOwLQwrSMHmTZVVb9E3jajoci1Oam2noBxuh5omF7oZVSAYaIcfW9jcQdmf_1QphIEXee6HxMP_nG4KFQkuF13mdOI-KOWI6L86totwM3HBBucF/s2016/IMG_6495.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOcYQ1l-zInXKyNrcgKYV4NWB-ZFYy8ejoS7mltNhCcT-gjyj2eI7QRQYCdlRX178-y2ICRWv7qC1kgtOwLQwrSMHmTZVVb9E3jajoci1Oam2noBxuh5omF7oZVSAYaIcfW9jcQdmf_1QphIEXee6HxMP_nG4KFQkuF13mdOI-KOWI6L86totwM3HBBucF/s320/IMG_6495.jpg" width="240" /></a><br /><br /></span></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">A long interview with an interested listener. Wild local blueberries among the peaches and baked into a buckle. More boxed and frozen against a future drought year.</span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGlHq0zqkRzXOH7maJC8HZjZtB24PK67AqAFxCJy06yiazeG7ilZ5ntraUqDDZk1d3cWMLxjqRJO19Y4TCIKvpnniOCKFZYBst83kLC34KwT3jN_EtazyCPK1QgQxWjPDAkWrwH3h-m6LgsP3gFvNRowUbLVluGwQzwydc3Qn7pt-rOHjcsXxCQq_FWb8g/s2016/IMG_6501.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGlHq0zqkRzXOH7maJC8HZjZtB24PK67AqAFxCJy06yiazeG7ilZ5ntraUqDDZk1d3cWMLxjqRJO19Y4TCIKvpnniOCKFZYBst83kLC34KwT3jN_EtazyCPK1QgQxWjPDAkWrwH3h-m6LgsP3gFvNRowUbLVluGwQzwydc3Qn7pt-rOHjcsXxCQq_FWb8g/s320/IMG_6501.jpg" width="240" /></a><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And now, a last look and final conversation with an old friend. After this, a different type of August.</span></div><p></p><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I hope you're having an August you enjoy.</span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Marion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3380971292497229199.post-63569037737418898432023-07-26T10:54:00.001-04:002023-07-26T10:54:00.147-04:00Books in June and Beyond<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Here are some (not all!) of the books I've read in recent months. This crop is so interesting and rewarding to read. Your mileage, as the saying goes, may vary.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><b>How High We Go in the Dark, <o:p></o:p></b><b>Sequoia Nagamatsu</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXb4xUC6wiEFaG-z82CHTiDl7PGC5mIq4VjudcX13-x5wHeJw7OnEsg19A1KPiLdCUi56vqtCPh668lJ_cQXBz7BOKFkZxBnl5XIs7tdLMwe886FgQIn-I_ycMq01Ms9_KIkA-xPjFWcDZjmFxzSrzcpRzOGymp0kb94Q14YJJSUPXFSxR8LvHcuMwHdt2/s1080/Untitled%20design.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXb4xUC6wiEFaG-z82CHTiDl7PGC5mIq4VjudcX13-x5wHeJw7OnEsg19A1KPiLdCUi56vqtCPh668lJ_cQXBz7BOKFkZxBnl5XIs7tdLMwe886FgQIn-I_ycMq01Ms9_KIkA-xPjFWcDZjmFxzSrzcpRzOGymp0kb94Q14YJJSUPXFSxR8LvHcuMwHdt2/s320/Untitled%20design.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /> </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">“But my parents are telling me stories about a simpler life
that I never knew, the kind where you could go to the beach and not worry about
the sand or the city beyond it being swallowed by the sea, one where an
earthquake never took away my father’s job and we still woke up on a tiny
street in a quiet neighbourhood in a bustling metropolis where everyone grew
old together.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">This book is set in the near future, when scientists
researching in Siberia find the body of a young girl in melting permafrost and thaw
it out, thereby unleash a virus on the world. Imagine trying to sell that novel
during the pandemic, which is what Nagamatsu did. And I’m glad!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The book ranges widely, beginning with the scientists and
their backgrounds and continuing through a century or so by earth time, and far
into the past and future. It’s not “about” a pandemic, and it’s not “about”
climate change, though it’s also about both. Climate change is the force that
set off this particular part of the story of Earth, and the virus is the way
the characters show who they are.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">What I’m really trying to say is that this book is so
recognizably about people—how we treat each other, what we want for our loved
ones, how we fail our families of origin but support strangers, how we honour
our best intentions, how we bend rules when it’s someone we know, and many
other permutations of human frailty. What does it mean to be human? What do we
do with power? There’s so much in its pages. I thoroughly enjoyed reading it. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">A couple more random quotes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">“I think about making wishes at the star festival and my
parents trying so hard to read and understand the stories I’ve written. I think
about my father telling me about opportunities in life floating in the wind
like seeds.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">“And in the operating room, as he’s slowly fading from
anesthesia, I tell him about Frodo’s final journey, leaving Middle Earth with
the elves, before I place my hand on his heart, now beating steadily for a boy
two hundred miles away, and tell him thank you.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">When I Sing, Mountains Dance, Irene Sol<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">à<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwNtHd8jfbZ90EX_9VyNA612Ez4wGSeF3nTPgaPIEUYAPz6p3NNRTEjHAk9azY6zwa4A-M-T1PsCNsU_wtZiMwW6B2AkfSCb6rNvvDFcHr-o-runkdZ941mWAFOf-_50FHNoNQXwkj82n6gR3ZZAbH4gYfrtlJWtus9UFTBaw-FsSZzjHDH2m7DQxsr46F/s4032/IMG_6227.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwNtHd8jfbZ90EX_9VyNA612Ez4wGSeF3nTPgaPIEUYAPz6p3NNRTEjHAk9azY6zwa4A-M-T1PsCNsU_wtZiMwW6B2AkfSCb6rNvvDFcHr-o-runkdZ941mWAFOf-_50FHNoNQXwkj82n6gR3ZZAbH4gYfrtlJWtus9UFTBaw-FsSZzjHDH2m7DQxsr46F/s320/IMG_6227.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /> </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">“When he dries his cheeks I make some coffee. I make coffee to keep my hands busy and to get the warm coffee into us. Because as long as you can still swallow, everything’s okay.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">This novel-in-pieces (maybe stories, maybe sketches, maybe
vignettes), translated from Catalan by <span face=""Segoe UI", sans-serif" style="background: white; line-height: 107%;">Mare
Faye Lethen</span>, was fascinating to read. The narrative follows generations of
one family living in the Pyrenees. The prose is lyrical and rhythmic, and almost
everything in this mountainous region can and does serve as a narrator,
including the clouds.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Here are a few more samples of the prose:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“I keep all my poems in my head as if inside a tidy drawer. I’m a
vase filled with water. Simple, fresh water like the springs and runnels. I lie
down and the verses just pour out. And I never write them down. That would kill
them. Because paper is sweet river water that gets lost at sea. It’s the place
where all things fail. Poetry has to be free like a nightingale. Like a
morning. Like the thing air at dusk. On its way to France. Or not. Or wherever
it wants to go. I don’t have anything to write on, anyway, and no pencil.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“There is no grief if there is no death. There is no pain if the
pain is shared. There is no pain if the pain is a memory and knowledge and
life. There is no pain if you’re a mushroom!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“After our arrival all was stillness and pressure, and we forced
the thin air down to bedrock, then let loose the first thunderclap.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">You Could Make This Place Beautiful, Maggie Smith</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNJi9hkFhuOsrDT8yOegPszJpQJdeymNJeMSw7H9aOUagz3v_jfpI6iSZsHC3S3mxNEB2uoXuOBlI07W61Se9hGFZQRg3-IK4tsKpYntXHjWQECTVJiqP7jiXhkU4exJcpTTTxJ7J8sLhD--NGawojxHltUTQCUZijTz0iE2vbeP2qIuB44SIvEzT0VKYm/s4032/IMG_6308.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNJi9hkFhuOsrDT8yOegPszJpQJdeymNJeMSw7H9aOUagz3v_jfpI6iSZsHC3S3mxNEB2uoXuOBlI07W61Se9hGFZQRg3-IK4tsKpYntXHjWQECTVJiqP7jiXhkU4exJcpTTTxJ7J8sLhD--NGawojxHltUTQCUZijTz0iE2vbeP2qIuB44SIvEzT0VKYm/s320/IMG_6308.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">“This isn’t a tell-all.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">I really liked this book. I haven’t read a lot of memoirs
lately, and especially not the most popular ones in the past five years, so I
can’t compare it to something else current.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The memoirs I do read tend to be tied up to nature somehow,
from salt marshes to natural backyard gardens. But I enjoy Maggie Smith’s
poetry and I assumed this would be interesting and beautifully written, and of
course it was.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">It’s also extremely rewarding to read, and to read carefully.
The structure itself is poetic, with themes and questions that recur, sometimes
to repeat insights suspected before, sometimes to share a whole new
understanding. The language is precise. And somehow lush. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">It’s full of heart and honesty. One of her blurb buddies
calls it a “memoir in vignettes,” which is apt, if you need to have a mental
box to put it in. It’s prose but poetic prose. And it’s beautiful.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The story is familiar. A man and woman weave their lives
together to create a family, with two children. But somehow the woman’s work
isn’t as “real” as the man’s, and so she begins to make her work, herself, and
her love for her work smaller so it’s less threatening to the man. Which
doesn’t work. It never works, as I well know. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">But the memoir itself is anything but typical. It’s nowhere
standard. One example: she’s explicit in boundaries—her children and the
stories they would tell aren’t part of this book. Parts of the way she and her
kids manage as a family, through the dragged-out legal machinations, though, is
fair game. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">I’m trying so hard to not fan-girl, but honestly, I really
liked this book, even as I understand it may not speak to everyone.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><b>The Bumblebee Flies Anyway, Kate Bradbury<o:p></o:p></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimW4MIJYQLY0_mp6l3p5qdvj45v4SkSlSPrBmBtrL0YsVaIO_DLKbOEULomQLkrTMx75pG9hDiFgiOstWV0h-QUPxSt5L5mkFQ3p3_4LZpjkLlbpybKfMuHws17HTt-ud6qui036dB4tNT4JTjBFaVn7FW5fEKHtUBvWzWfl3OJ4ELc2vYQb9udd4dDRfU/s2016/IMG_6418.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimW4MIJYQLY0_mp6l3p5qdvj45v4SkSlSPrBmBtrL0YsVaIO_DLKbOEULomQLkrTMx75pG9hDiFgiOstWV0h-QUPxSt5L5mkFQ3p3_4LZpjkLlbpybKfMuHws17HTt-ud6qui036dB4tNT4JTjBFaVn7FW5fEKHtUBvWzWfl3OJ4ELc2vYQb9udd4dDRfU/s320/IMG_6418.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">“The things we push back and refuse to deal with, they all come to bite us in the end.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"><br /></span></p><div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">I loved this book, which combines memoir with nature writing. After a
difficult breakup, Kate Bradbury buys a home in Brighton and begin reclaiming
the back yard from thirty years of wood decking.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">It sounds simple enough. But nothing is simple, and the charm for me is
her honesty—even down to wondering why she cares about bees, and insects and
birds, about neighbouring yards and the choices made there, and common-enough
shrubs. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">And then family stuff happens. As it does. And that, too, is threaded
with deep concern, growth, doing what you can even though it’s never enough,
and some resolution. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Entershine Bookshop staff hand-sold me this book, and I’m glad they did.
More glorious observations below:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">“Despite all the lushness and the ripening apples and the huge winter
squash and the prospecting queen ants and egg-laying dragonflies, I'm worried
about my house sparrows. Despite everything I've achieved in my garden, it will
never be enough.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">“I spread compost on the soil, release plants from pots, move things
around, divide and replant, take semi-ripe (nearly ripe) cuttings, bury the
first of the autumn bulbs. Why am I doing this if I don't want to stay? Habit,
I suppose. For the house sparrows, I suppose. Feed the soil and everything will
follow, I suppose. Feed the earth, the detritivores, the centipedes and
beetles, the roots of plants that will flower and seed and fill trellis and
protect birds.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">“Of all the gardens I have loved and lost, this one holds a piece of me.
This, with my DNA from cut hair and skin from scabbed knees, dust of feathers
collected to top mud pies, buried pet rabbits. We're in the soil and the
leaves, the birds, the bees, little pieces of them and me. This garden is still
mine.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">“I close my eyes and lose myself in the hum and thrum of the wood, the
hum and thrum of decades and centuries past and future. The hum and thrum that
soothed people who are dead now, will soothe people yet to live. Highwaymen and
time-travellers, the living and the dying, the long gone, the not yet born.
Ashes and dust. All around me, little unseen insects work from one bloom to the
next. I want to curl into a ball and sleep here forever.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">“Far below her now the woman sits on the lawn in her little parcel of
recovered land. Grass sways in the breeze, flowers nod to lure bees. There are
holly blue and speckled wood butterflies, a lone red admiral soaking up the
sun. Leaves hide hoppers and miners, aphids and flies. Above the pond a second
generation of common darter dragonflies dances for a mate. Life. It just needs
a chance. We just need to give it a chance.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">###</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">I hope you're enjoying your own summer reading!</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p>Marion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3380971292497229199.post-36138768588070475672023-07-23T10:31:00.001-04:002023-07-23T10:31:19.560-04:00Still Constructing<p>Hi there--things behind the scenes of my wee website overhaul are edging ever-more closely to completion. But things behind the scenes are more complicated, and go more slowly, than one might imagine.</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC5ofvCNjVFmUyFw3oodekjkjoPz4uuvxYOLF_IM1AwHIgELGr-9M6MfPJC4BhkuLBVtkn7wrYbQ2GvhlkwGld4qt8-RAUhCYbAWXLz-dcvt9Vhvabmj5J03No-Vk6XPLbW7GphCl9T855qwrLz65ytMHP9q2loveSIl1Xl3FC0L6uEwjiaVEstnC88AXS/s4032/IMG_6223.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC5ofvCNjVFmUyFw3oodekjkjoPz4uuvxYOLF_IM1AwHIgELGr-9M6MfPJC4BhkuLBVtkn7wrYbQ2GvhlkwGld4qt8-RAUhCYbAWXLz-dcvt9Vhvabmj5J03No-Vk6XPLbW7GphCl9T855qwrLz65ytMHP9q2loveSIl1Xl3FC0L6uEwjiaVEstnC88AXS/s320/IMG_6223.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gray Fox on the deck. <br />She hasn't been around much <br />in the past couple of weeks.</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>You'd think I'd have learned all this from watching those home renovation shows through the years. I guess it's different when it's your edifice (virtual or architectural) that they're renovating. It actually doesn't come together in a half-hour.</p><p><br /></p><p>We've had a tepid and muggy summer, when it's not cool and rainy. I've been solving problems right and left (refrigerators, most recently), and not getting outdoors near often enough. However. </p><p><br /></p><p>On the up side, all the not-writing activities have allowed a seed to germinate. Perhaps. I'm fertilizing it and watching it, and meanwhile, working with it gives me ten or fifteen solid lovely minutes of creativity every day. It's the best feeling. And I'm grateful. And summers don't get any better than that.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p>Marion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3380971292497229199.post-17706540700673693622023-06-28T14:37:00.003-04:002023-06-28T14:37:52.563-04:00Starting Over<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOsXcN9FSlmyE1vsIbAce7dH528NTlNzncqZCSfxlN6RQO3lhOniz1n8p4Skf-1OQR2agRMn_q1wMNEcpkxHeiTS1vtGIFOBgIRB_VuuMB1O1G-fO7JZeSe7bM2LIK84euj5gwwx34x1UAEDcoBxse_qtoegCKNoL2k29DWmZD3UAg1GgFA5OLkX_xKYNa/s4032/IMG_5951.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOsXcN9FSlmyE1vsIbAce7dH528NTlNzncqZCSfxlN6RQO3lhOniz1n8p4Skf-1OQR2agRMn_q1wMNEcpkxHeiTS1vtGIFOBgIRB_VuuMB1O1G-fO7JZeSe7bM2LIK84euj5gwwx34x1UAEDcoBxse_qtoegCKNoL2k29DWmZD3UAg1GgFA5OLkX_xKYNa/s320/IMG_5951.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p style="text-align: left;">The allure of a clean slate: the first vanilla ice cream </p><p style="text-align: left;">of the year, peepers sharing their froggy angst, </p><p style="text-align: left;">fireflies’ did-you-see-it no-there-over-there winks, </p><p style="text-align: left;">the sharp head-clearing scent of </p><p style="text-align: left;">fresh-washed pines, a dog’s fur </p><p style="text-align: left;">coarse beneath your fingers.</p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p>Back indoors, how can I </p><p>breathe, with the old everythings</p><p>crowding every room?</p><p><br /></p><p>Toss it all into the air,</p><p>atomize it with the sheer force </p><p>of your joy, send it higher and higher until</p><p>you no longer see it </p><p>though it will still exist<br /></p><p><br /></p><p>In someone else’s fresh start</p><p></p><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">________</div><div style="text-align: left;">I found this in the Notes folder on my phone. Can you tell that I've been removing many of my things, old things, broken things, WHYYYY? things from the house this spring and summer? Can you tell that my refrain while doing so has been, "Get real, Marion!" It's worked pretty well, actually.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Yes, I'm also trying, a little, to move on from MAKING UP THE GODS to do serious work on my new novel and a nonfiction project that's more amorphous as to shape. The process isn't the same--nothing from my first novel is going to a secondhand store, for example, and nothing from REVERBERATIONS did, either. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I'm not done with Simone, Chen, and Martin, and may never be. But other characters are politely calling my name. So I'm trying to listen. </div>Marion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3380971292497229199.post-29217085326884412502023-06-14T12:29:00.002-04:002023-06-14T12:29:32.029-04:00We Have a Cover!<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">My debut novel, Making Up the Gods, is coming in October, 2023 from Latitude 46 Publishing. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And I'm especially excited to show you the cover!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6LaU8hPpxKf1a1S7yfyZdrDh01N0axKpOvFTAmGDImvhdACPrf1TufHq7LAjbB-K2OxRhmTy3m_RhIw-q5KEcNsbOqNQtlK3BfF7N31YL1E4Ewp4-mSGM0EAHrGjLWBR6iIAAN4KReT7jn1axmDTRaUGriZkFHHti7zD7NleQTxDWbpSF9Ler5lk1ew/s3000/Making%20Up%20the%20Gods_FINAL%20FC_April%2025,%202023.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="1941" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6LaU8hPpxKf1a1S7yfyZdrDh01N0axKpOvFTAmGDImvhdACPrf1TufHq7LAjbB-K2OxRhmTy3m_RhIw-q5KEcNsbOqNQtlK3BfF7N31YL1E4Ewp4-mSGM0EAHrGjLWBR6iIAAN4KReT7jn1axmDTRaUGriZkFHHti7zD7NleQTxDWbpSF9Ler5lk1ew/s320/Making%20Up%20the%20Gods_FINAL%20FC_April%2025,%202023.JPEG" width="207" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The cover was adapted by a collage created by Thunder Bay artist Erin Stewart. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Here's a description of the novel:</span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="background-color: white; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Simone, a retired widow, would live a quiet and isolated life, if not for the lingering ghosts of her family. One day, Simone is visited at her home by a man named Martin claiming to be her cousin. When Martin asks if Simone is willing to sell her cottage by the lake, a proposition made sweeter by the prospect of a condo in Florida, Simone, though pleased at the thought of a cousin, also questions his intentions. From what part of her past has Martin emerged, and why now? The burden of making a decision is all the more difficult because Simone has agreed to take care of a friend's nine-year-old boy, Chen, for a short time while his mother enjoys a much-needed vacation. Simone finds her match in Chen, a curious boy grieving the loss of his father and stepbrother in an accident that has shaken the entire community. Can Simone hide her ability to see her family ghosts? Will Martin succeed in extorting Simone's beloved home--and worse, is he a danger to Chen? Because of Chen and Martin, Simone is caught between her ties to the past and her desire to embrace the company of the living.</span></p></blockquote><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Stay tuned for more!</span></p>Marion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3380971292497229199.post-86904960540763328422023-06-07T10:19:00.001-04:002023-06-07T10:19:51.157-04:00Books from Spring, 2023<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">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. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">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. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">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 <i>isn't </i>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. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And here are some recent books. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Shelterbelts</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b><o:p></o:p></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Jonathan Dyck<o:p></o:p></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIcEJLKQrpSw0QBzMijj-ccJPmJ_SsFj39Ewn6KP344wOgs7iY_sO0_BJSBfxxH40VdtKQz88Wjgnqz1tjljAe7etZEWIg8q_NegZyNQVbUcKSPxK2DDfEM99-i_nq_rJ8vE80_6vx3jl9NHYwfjJtwhU28JG022tKtFhw9Gpwv4vDYBmsNYJiOB64Sw/s2016/IMG_5773.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIcEJLKQrpSw0QBzMijj-ccJPmJ_SsFj39Ewn6KP344wOgs7iY_sO0_BJSBfxxH40VdtKQz88Wjgnqz1tjljAe7etZEWIg8q_NegZyNQVbUcKSPxK2DDfEM99-i_nq_rJ8vE80_6vx3jl9NHYwfjJtwhU28JG022tKtFhw9Gpwv4vDYBmsNYJiOB64Sw/s320/IMG_5773.jpg" width="240" /></span></a><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“I know there are lots of good reasons to leave but I feel like I’m just starting to get to know this place.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I loved this book. It’s interconnected short stories that
make up a profile of a town in transition. I suppose you could say that it’s a
novel in which a town is the protagonist, if you’re into exact labels. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">A new generation is coming of age in a Mennonite community.
A megachurch has joined (and now competes with) two more-traditional
congregations, which celebrate somewhat more progressive and radically
un-progressive values. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">One of my favourite parts of this work is that characters
who are older allow themselves to listen to and love the younger characters,
and as a result, some of them change. It makes the book hopeful. Also, the
drawings say so much. It’s fascinating to see the landscape through the eyes of
the characters and know that different characters view it differently. And at
least one of the stories showed events from two timelines in parallel, which
added richness. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I think it’s the first graphic novel I’ve read (though I
have my eye on a few others), not from any feeling about them one way or
another, but because, you know, lots of books. In any case, thanks to other
readers, for talking about books you’ve read on Instagram, because that’s how I
came across this one. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Some more quotes: <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“We’re so accustomed to seeing ourselves as exceptions.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“I’m not saying it can’t be different. But you still see
that mindset everywhere… Nature is either a resource to exploit or it’s an
escape.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“There’s no reason NOT to believe that other life exists out
there. But, like, shouldn’t we be more focused on saving the place where we
actually live?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“This place…I feel like I know it. Like it knows me.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Elizabeth Strout</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Abide with Me</i> and <i>The Burgess Boys</i></b></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC86mjPo-WVI3wcw1KMzb67n0bp3e-PeJIYfP1U07nVv067s4LXt9tdqRnf4y6VLcXAh2njLm5QO69kjGWJmAnRjlhkKruzbpjlPlk_afNXZb6YU9_Z_FeYY-zAdwH7Mz3bX3zf9PiAc-SHj-FUJU6KRJxq752s6Z8x2tXRVLtNQ4k54a5_hkv8eWcvA/w240-h299/IMG_5873.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Elizabeth Strout</span><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>Abide with Me </i>and <i>The Burgess Boys</i></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC86mjPo-WVI3wcw1KMzb67n0bp3e-PeJIYfP1U07nVv067s4LXt9tdqRnf4y6VLcXAh2njLm5QO69kjGWJmAnRjlhkKruzbpjlPlk_afNXZb6YU9_Z_FeYY-zAdwH7Mz3bX3zf9PiAc-SHj-FUJU6KRJxq752s6Z8x2tXRVLtNQ4k54a5_hkv8eWcvA/s4032/IMG_5873.jpg" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“Loss is an assault; a certain exhaustion, as strong as the pull of the moon on the tides, needs to be allowed for eventually.” (From <i>Abide with Me</i>.)</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">These are two traditional novels by Elizabeth Strout, whose book Olive Kitteridge in 2008 inspired many book club discussions along the lines of “is it connected short stories or is it a novel?” </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I thought <i>Abide with Me</i> was okay—one of its point-of-view characters seemed entirely unnecessary and the protagonist somehow got a whole lot of insight in a very short period of time.<br /><br /><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I enjoyed <i>The Burgess Boys </i>a lot. I appreciated the humanity of many of the characters, even the jerkier ones. I was fascinated by its examination of how single events early on can change the trajectory of lives—and how new information about the past may not make it any easier to change your life in the present. <br /><br /><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">A bookseller and I, in a weekend conversation, agreed that there are a lot of books in the world. So I can’t guarantee that I’ll revisit Olive Kitteridge or go forward with more Lucy Barton titles. But I was glad enough to have read these, so I’m sharing these thoughts. And much of the writing is just lovely.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">More from <i>Abide with Me</i>:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“Don't pretend that you need to keep secrets from me just because you don't like the way I react to them."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“It was still October when the first snow fell. It came in the afternoon, light as white dandelion thistles being dropped from high in the sky. They took their time reaching ground, so light and sparse they floated. But there was a quiet steadiness to the snow, and by late afternoon, a soft covering lay over places where the ground swelled. Right before it got dark, the skies cleared and the temperatures dropped, and a cold wind swept through the towns by the river, so the new snow swirled like it was being swept by a fast broom. In the morning it lay where the wind had taken it, curled in long, arcing sweeps across a field, or mingled with dried leaves against the base of a tree. There was not much, but the ground was frozen and the branches bare. The sky was a luminous gray; it was to warm up, and then more snow was expected.”<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">From <i>The
Burgess Boys</i><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">“And
it was too late. No one wants to believe something is too late, but it is
always becoming too late, and then it is.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">“Bob
was unutterably happy. He had not expected the feeling, which intensified it.
He gazed out the window at the black stretches of evergreens, the granite
boulders here and there. The landscape he had forgotten -- and now remembered.
The world was an old friend, and the darkness was like arms around him.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">“Well,
this, and this, and this have happened. It would not be accurate as told. She
thought nothing could be told and be accurate. Feeble words dropped earnestly
and haphazardly over the large stretched-out fabric of a life with all its
knots and bumps. What words would she use to spread her experience before him?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Flora Thompson<o:p></o:p></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Lark Rise to Candleford<o:p></o:p></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKZUdQHtdRhAXpNU1rVPxZVvkX0zMH_U1DLiwAkxTnz-0J6HMGwyUMcn4xQrPixEJjzY_WsLHaLIedfOrgkjys3dpJcIEFURrkJXtMKzYfXmpQXkJEWnEq-fRMwZGwWSJVrmkI93oOXeboOT3K-N0zwWGZe7HK4T_rSqiPMJFz38s5t2x7itYNnuDoWA/s3385/IMG_5856.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3385" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKZUdQHtdRhAXpNU1rVPxZVvkX0zMH_U1DLiwAkxTnz-0J6HMGwyUMcn4xQrPixEJjzY_WsLHaLIedfOrgkjys3dpJcIEFURrkJXtMKzYfXmpQXkJEWnEq-fRMwZGwWSJVrmkI93oOXeboOT3K-N0zwWGZe7HK4T_rSqiPMJFz38s5t2x7itYNnuDoWA/s320/IMG_5856.jpg" width="286" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“She was fond of collecting stones of all shapes and
colours, and for years played with the idea that, one day, she would touch a
secret spring and a stone would fly open and reveal a parchment which would
tell her exactly what the world was like when it was written and placed there.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I’m bunding three different books into one in this post—Lark
Rise, Over to Candleford, and Candleford Green—published in two Slightly Foxed
volumes, always lovely to hold. They’re memories of Flora Thompson, who was
born and grew up in Oxfordshire in the 1880s, written decades later.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I had never heard of these books until I became aware of
<a href="https://foxedquarterly.com/" target="_blank">Slightly Foxed</a>, thanks to <a href="https://melissaharrison.co.uk/" target="_blank">Melissa Harrison and her nature writing</a>. Slightly
Foxed is a publisher of limited edition books and a quarterly magazine; they
also offer a way to get general trade books from the UK into my North American
hands while supporting a small business.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Flora’s alter ego, Laura, grows up in a hamlet—a cluster of
tiny cottages occupied by farm and other labourers (her father is a
stonemason). As she ages, she visits aunts, uncles, and cousins in a nearby town,
Candleford, for extended summer holidays (and when her mother is having other
children). In the third volume, she takes a job with a school friend of her
mother’s in a village, Candleford Green, that isn’t yet part of the city of
Candleford.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I enjoyed her descriptions of the similarities and
differences in the communities (a hamlet, a village, and a country town), and
the general information about life (bathing, toilets, homekeeping, baking,
schooling) in the late 19<sup>th</sup> century. The narrative, such as it is,
follow’s Laura’s growing up, but it’s in the background. Her focus is the
community and that world, one decades in the past as she writes. Thompson
shares keen-eyed observations of her neighbours and the communities, but with a
generosity of spirit and an awareness of the changing social values coming
their way. Meaning, wars. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“She was always saying that she would take [an heirloom
metal photograph frame, studded in “real gems”] to a jeweller at Sherston and
get it valued, ‘come Fair time,’ but she never did. Like the rest of us, she
knew better than to put her favourite illusion to the test.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Note: I love browsing what the folks at Slightly Foxed have on offer.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>Marion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3380971292497229199.post-63184209129987808102023-05-31T16:51:00.001-04:002023-05-31T16:51:15.029-04:00On Letting Go<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">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.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Letting Go of Electronics</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">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. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">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, which makes them museum pieces to technical folks. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And while I tried to copy files from the devices before wiping them, I'm sure I missed a few random photos. Will I miss them? No.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Letting Go of Habits of Mind</b> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">During the pandemic, I was introduced to the wonders of grocery pickup. Sure, stores had empty shelves, but if I ordered enough duplicates, I could count on getting more or less what we'd enjoy eating, with only a few surprises.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Recently, I picked up a grocery order. (I may never go back to shopping indoors myself again.) As I was putting ALL THE FOOD away, I realized that I need to stop ordering as if the grocery store’s shelves are empty. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Their shelves are full. So are mine. Everything is available again. Time to evaluate my order strategy and let go of the scarcity mindset. ("Scarcity mindset" can sound awfully shyster-ish, but I mean it in a more literal sense. I need to internalize the fact that plentiful options do exist.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><b><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Letting Go of Someday/Maybes</span></b></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">A someday/maybe is something you might do someday, maybe. It's from <i>Getting Things Done</i>, a couple of books and now businessy/self-helpy empire that helps you organize your life and, uh, get ... you know, things done. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I have a lot of someday/maybe lives. In one of them, I make collages from things. I've actually made a few collages and I enjoy the process, but then what? I have a collage that I have to store, and someday someone else will have to throw it away. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">So, trying to be more realistic about how many somedays I might have to do maybe things I enjoy, I've been clearing out what I fondly think of as “art supplies” but which is actually semi-interesting paper junk. It helps to repeat “What even is this?” and “Why would I ever need it?” as a sort of mantra.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Earlier this week I was digging through the markers I use daily in my bullet journal/calendar and saw a roll of almost-finished washi tape. And I tossed it! Right into the garbage! Right then! Even though it wasn't 100% finished!!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And then I wondered who this girl/adult even was, throwing away washi tape as if she hadn’t had it for about ten years and never liked it anyway? Well, she's the girl/adult who had had this washi tape for about ten years and never especially liked it. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiavVX4i7LqTm3l_YW6decIMtnDAvX0H6Nmd6IyZ4z7xnk7dD78ETo-cxf_TuzSgDJTvoCS_OFPHgl0oEP5LVhmVROwCBWzmDBPRHvgsdgMcpLta-xvgYBCaylXemft5AmeTZ1UG88jVvOGaW6zfNT44lpydYYxuNWgnMlV6KICXspmayGP9i-jJ-QMNA/s4032/IMG_6035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiavVX4i7LqTm3l_YW6decIMtnDAvX0H6Nmd6IyZ4z7xnk7dD78ETo-cxf_TuzSgDJTvoCS_OFPHgl0oEP5LVhmVROwCBWzmDBPRHvgsdgMcpLta-xvgYBCaylXemft5AmeTZ1UG88jVvOGaW6zfNT44lpydYYxuNWgnMlV6KICXspmayGP9i-jJ-QMNA/s320/IMG_6035.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Goodbye, washi tape. <br />Thank you for your service.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Next step: stop acquiring things to let go of. And, in my writing life, perhaps I can let go of older writing projects or drafts, someday/maybe "wouldn't it be cool" ideas, and other detritus of a writing life--so I can work on things today. Hooray, more to learn!</span></p>Marion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3380971292497229199.post-65849113633381777362023-05-24T11:58:00.000-04:002023-05-24T11:58:09.062-04:00Under Construction<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">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!</span></p>Marion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3380971292497229199.post-42922174875682149122023-05-17T11:24:00.003-04:002023-05-17T11:24:21.202-04:00Words Mean Things, With Examples<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I think a lot about words and what they mean. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKO-CoJbcYROvqGvSYCfA_ibcw1Gthw3UXWu5G0Fxxq6ih4eQzGRcfaqdNHyFcUMaO9lSgMVRUIRSXC_kXg57bCR_NtNnvdg80I6GhLF-evCF1MM09vpMwIXfaxZhC9yIm9NRxoLgrU9iHZCR2ng_X8VeUDsCEJsflUPp4W0yezkTyz9aRAY43FKz_tQ/s3686/IMG_5968.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3686" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKO-CoJbcYROvqGvSYCfA_ibcw1Gthw3UXWu5G0Fxxq6ih4eQzGRcfaqdNHyFcUMaO9lSgMVRUIRSXC_kXg57bCR_NtNnvdg80I6GhLF-evCF1MM09vpMwIXfaxZhC9yIm9NRxoLgrU9iHZCR2ng_X8VeUDsCEJsflUPp4W0yezkTyz9aRAY43FKz_tQ/s320/IMG_5968.jpg" width="263" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The persistent ice of early May, 2023.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">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. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">A couple of weeks back, I had the chance to bond with a bookseller over the writing of a famous author.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“Oh, I hate Famous Author!” I said. Far too loudly, in fact. And I felt yucky.</span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">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.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">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. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Maybe, maybe not. Many Famous Authors (and Famous Others) are horrible people.* Maybe this one is too. But maybe not. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And let's be clear, Famous Author gives zero hoots about my opinion or potential as a bestie, and is in fact completely unaware that I exist.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">So to be more accurate—because words mean things—I could have said, “I’m not a big fan of Famous Author’s work.” Or “Famous Author’s work isn’t for me.” Those would have been accurate and fair statements.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Because: Writers are not their work!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I have brought up this thing about words =/= writers repeatedly in person. I no doubt have written about it before. But I will step onto my soapbox once again (because what's the good of having one if you never get up there and yell into the voice?).</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">WRITERS are not their WORK.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSs4CqiEi1mRQJRPkmc9j9Cpqr9Xx8uH7C5M1vW7hNxILCYsmHhCRhajVoUNYVgmJyXiCZdtc9OXs_4i3gJqShah63b7tqBtmdJjAaYZqKtB2KpeZgOALH4A4nYGRUEopcEkuZo29l4_fbV2j_sHppX80-5cGF9xo3iuFcCpGptIX641TeMzJBSVx4Uw/s4032/IMG_5951.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSs4CqiEi1mRQJRPkmc9j9Cpqr9Xx8uH7C5M1vW7hNxILCYsmHhCRhajVoUNYVgmJyXiCZdtc9OXs_4i3gJqShah63b7tqBtmdJjAaYZqKtB2KpeZgOALH4A4nYGRUEopcEkuZo29l4_fbV2j_sHppX80-5cGF9xo3iuFcCpGptIX641TeMzJBSVx4Uw/s320/IMG_5951.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Smiling at me, even when my work is rejected.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I am not my work, and by “work” I mean my writing. Those few (many) thousands of words on those pieces of paper. Or bits ‘n’ bytes.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Yes, my work is personal, especially my essay collection, but also my forthcoming novel. Everyone’s writing is personal. It has to be; you can’t help it. That’s OK! Your writing should express something important to you.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And when my work is rejected for publication or doesn’t place in a contest, it stings. But: that’s MY WORK. Not ME.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I HAVE NOT BEEN REJECTED.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">My WORK was rejected.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Technically, it's just THIS DRAFT of my work that was rejected--a future draft might find publication and a huge fan base somewhere. OR! This same draft might find friends and publication elsewhere. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Regardless, I’m okay. I have nothing to be ashamed of--I wrote a thing, I thought I'd see if someone liked it enough to publish it, they didn't, that's information. I can revise it or submit somewhere else. Choices I can make. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I have to keep saying this because </span><span style="font-family: arial;">I get to practice I AM NOT MY WORK on the daily. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Receiving rejections (as I did just yesterday, for new work that is powerfully close to home and for which I had high hopes) is a thing that happens. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It is a thing that means I'm alive and creating, yay! And I'm participating, or attempting to, in the world's creative discourse.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And if your work didn't place in a contest recently, or if your work is returning to your inbox, you are okay. You're creating. You're participating in the world's creative discourse. That's a cause for celebration. Yay!</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">____________</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">* There are Famous Authors and Famous Others who say terrible, hate-able things and deny humanity to vast swaths of people. In those cases, whether I hate THE PERSON is something I have to wrestle with, but I definitely hate everything about them, and I try to be sure I am not supporting them. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">You know what? There are so many creative people in the world and so much beautiful work that I can skip theirs. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">The writer I was talking about in the bookstore isn't of that ilk, AND I can also skip their work.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span></p></div>Marion Agnewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17181824413501047519noreply@blogger.com