Marion Agnew

Dickens, who's already written most of the stories there are in the world, seems to best express how I feel about the past year. Yes, from A TALE OF TWO CITIES, that whole best/worst thing. Although maybe not. I can imagine worse, although I am fearful to, and I can also hope for better. I'm speaking about the world in general, here. For me personally, many parts of 2018 were good and others were, uh, less good. How ever un-good my "less good" times were, I'm still very fortunate and I know it. The two best lessons I learned and practiced, both toward the end of the year, are what I'm clinging to as the earth rotates and revolves around the sun. 1. Stretch. 2. Drink water. Yep. Simple. But not always easy. This last quarter, I've focused largely on taking care of family, including myself, in projects with both short- and long-term timeframes. I hope to be able to look outward and better care for others in the world in 2019. And you? See you ...

For this post, here's one given: a "good" review is one that contains information valuable to someone other than the reviewer. Which means that "I liked it" or "I didn't like it," as expressed by thumbs up or down, aren't helpful reviews. For a positive example, here's a link to the YouTube channel (where you can find her playlists) of Cindy Guentert-Baldo , with some amazingly helpful reviews, if you're interested in various types of pens and planners. NB: she also has an awesome website, here . Cindy is one of the most upfront, thoughtful reviewers I've run across (and I've been watching a lot of online reviews of various consumer and other products in the past year). Two qualities contribute to her success as a reviewer. First, Cindy knows herself. And second, she considers other perspectives. Cindy is experienced in graphic design and hand-lettering. She is right-handed but she has a teenager who's a lefty (this ...

Difficult news in Thunder Bay. Another young life lost. More defensiveness and shoulder shrugs. And a new report that attempts to create some sort of accountability for the past. I can read news reports, like those linked above. I can read all sorts of public documents, but I am all too aware--having been a person who wrote documents--the silences and omissions and safe statements in much public information. For a couple of years now, I've been trying to listen for underrepresented voices and lift them up. It doesn't matter whether I agree with what they say. I try to understand. I get burned out and take a break. I go back and try again to read and learn, and (hardest of all) to curb my desire to "weigh in" and argue and question. In recent years, parts of the Canadian literary community have also been trying to lift up Indigenous and other underrepresented voices. Recently, this collaboration between Prairie Fire and CV2 appeared in my mailbox. And wh...

Last week, I wrote about my November book, Little Women . As is always the case when I read my "old faves," I was uncomfortably aware of statements and omissions that are, frankly, racist and classist. And I wanted to get some perspective. So I did, at this invaluable resource: American Indians in Children's Literature . Dr. Debbie Reese founded and managed this resource for years, and now has help. An enrolled member of the Nambe Pueblo in New Mexico, she has also held positions at the University of Illinois. She and Jean Mendoza share their reviews of books--both books they recommend and those they don't (with reasons why)--and welcome thoughtful comments and discussion. Although Little Women isn't discussed much, many of my other childhood favourites are. I've learned a lot from the resources and conversations. I would say that I don't always agree with the perspectives, but that's really not my place. I have too much to learn. I may have lin...

Recently I've been thinking about how strongly I associate books with particular months or times of the year. Last week I shared my October Book and why it suited October . Previously, I talked about the surprises of rereading a book I always associated with September (which may more properly be a May book). Which brings me to November, the month of my birthday. Back in the Days of Yore, a calendar (printed! on paper!) was considered a wonderful and appropriate (and somewhat affordable) gift for a hard-to-buy family member--a father, say, or a brother (or three). In my experience, November gets the most boring pictures. The best are January (usually the cover), something stunning for a summer month (often July), and a cozy interior scene for December, which if not explicitly about Christmas is at least about indoor warmth, hot chocolate, and a roaring fire. Of course, being me (a person who holds meaningless grudges against monolithic institutions and incoherent concepts l...

In September, I posted about a book that I always think of in September . I meant to do one in October, but I didn't have a chance to revisit this old friend until now. So even though it's November, here's the October book: Mrs. Miniver , by Jan Struther. No, not the movie , lovely though Greer Garson might have been in it, and important though it might have been in showing Americans what was at stake in the war they had so far (in 1940, when the book was compiled and published) refused to enter. Nope. It's the book, the text of which is available online here , along with lots of notes about what was and wasn't "real," and what made it into the movie and what didn't. I think it's worth reading, but I'm biased. Actually, this book could serve as a September book as well. It begins in September of 1937 and ends just after war is declared in September of 1939. In a series of slice-of-life vignettes set roughly two per month (evidence they...

This morning I noticed that our outdoor thermometer showed very little red. The temperature has been dropping recently, and it got cold last night: near 0F/-18C. Although I'm still limiting my social media exposure, I do cross-post a photo to Facebook and Instagram, usually daily but sometimes not. Taking and sharing photos is partly an act of attention  and partly an act of caring for my extended family. They enjoy seeing random day-in-the-life moments from this lovely place I live, which has meant so much to our family.*  So: the thermometer. I considered taking a picture of it. I considered what I'd say: "Soon, this temperature will lose its shock value, but today? Yikes." I didn't actually take the picture, though. I thought maybe something else interesting would turn up. The lake looked interesting, and I was up early enough to watch the light change. So I started my morning social media/email check-in. Facebook showed me a memory from this date four ...