The Music Of War

When I was in highschool we were encouraged to read Canadian authors, and in those days it seemed like there were only four: Margaret Atwood, Alice Munroe, Margaret Laurence, and Pierre Burton. No doubt there were others, but I didn't really know who they were and truth be told, I didn't do much to enlighten myself. Something tells me that I wasn't the only one ignorant of my own country's numerous authors, as in 2002 the CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation) inaugurated a new annual event - Canada Reads. For the 2014 version, the process began with the public voting for up to 10 books from a list of 40 (though I'm not certain where the 40 come from) and this list is whittled down to the top ten, whereby the public got to vote again for the top books. Of these, 5 are selected and a few months later they are each defended by a Canadian public personality/celebrity. The public then votes 'off' one of the books per week, until there is a winner. I became familiar with Canada Reads only a few years ago, while at University where I didn't have time for pleasure reading. This time though, I've decided to participate and in the first round I voted for nine: one a professor at Uni had loaned me to read over summer break; two I already had on my list to read; and the other six were books I'd never heard of but appealed to me. Of those nine, only one made it to the top five. This review is about one of the two I had already wanted to read.

Set during the Siege of Sarajevo in 1992, Steven Galloway's Cellist of Sarajevo was inspired by a cellist who played a particular piece at the same time, everyday for twenty-two days after a building was mortared killing twenty-two people. The story itself is about the meaning behind this action and how news of it spread in the streets by people who were attempting to get a food and water while doing their best to avoid being shot at. It shows the difficulty of individual movement, the need for compassion even while so very difficult to give, and the internal battles each individual must face daily simply to exist.

This isn't a love story amid the detritus of war, nor is it a survivor's tale. It is about honouring those who are killed without real cause. It is allegorical of what is still going on today. How bombs fall to make a point, but kill those who would rather just get on with their day - peaceably. What I particularly like about this novel is how different types of violence are portrayed. Everyone understands the physical violence that comes from war, but there are other types of violence, structural, daily and political - all of these are woven into the tale, through the few characters described, and how they push through it, either by acceptance or rejecting it.

While this story is set during a siege, I would not call it a war story in the sense that war is described. This isn't a military tale, it is the story of those besieged and attempting to live another day. Therefore, I recommend this for anyone interested in both military fiction and literature. I give this book 4 dogs crossing the street out of 5.

Serious Comedy

Occasionally as readers we stumble across a work that we can't put down despite how it picks away at the deepest parts of our being and pinpoints the spots where we are most sensitive. This becomes doubly so when considering that the reader selected the book for two reasons: she enjoyed the author's prior novel; and the author is a comedienne. There's no argument that comedy often identifies uncomfortable truths about ourselves and we learn to laugh through it, but one should not expect that just because a comedienne wrote a book, that novel is going to be humorous.

In Oh Dear Silvia, Dawn French explores how family, friends and employees cope and adapt to the loss of someone who was, decidedly, a force of nature in their lives. Silvia Shute is in a coma, and the reasons why she is that state and how it effects those around her is slowly revealed throughout the novel. The story exposes loves and hates, successes and disappointments, as well as the subtle sacrifices one makes to prevent loved ones from coming to the worst of harms.

If, as a reader, you are expecting 'French and Saunders'or 'The Vicar of Dibley' type comedy, then you're in for a disappointment. That isn't to say there aren't any witty or funny scenes, expressions, or characters. Just that it is not a 'humour' book per sé . If you're seeking a book that is brilliant for its own merit then this might be a great fit, especially if you've no fear of crying. The realities of how differently each individual reacts to the loss of a loved one, even if temporary, is brilliantly achieved and written.

I suppose that I'd describe this book as one that ensnares the reader's emotions long before she realises they should even ensure an escape route or has time to lock them away. Perhaps this will scare some potential readers off, which is not my goal. I reckon everyone should read it, but not everyone will like it. It's probably one of those books one has to be open to reading, rather than a question of taste.

For the sheer pleasure of the encounter I give this book 5 beech trees out of 5.

The Struggle Of Joining In Late

Long, long ago (pre-world wide web) I read a book that I enjoyed immensely. It was an epic novel called Stonehenge. I liked it so much that over the years I purchased most of the author's other works, but did not read any of them until about five years ago when another one off entitled Azincourt was published. I've no idea why I didn't crack open any of Bernard Cornwell's other books even though they decorated the better part of one shelf. This year, an online book group that I belong two offered up three of the books as options: one being the aforementioned megaliths; and the other two the first book in a series. All three won for their respective months, forcing me to finally crack some spines (figuratively speaking, we don't literally crack spines - ever). The first was the much loved beginnings of Uhtred of Bebbanburg - The Last Kingdom.

There were high expectations for this novel, as most people I know who have read it not only love the series, but feel a personal attachment to the protagonist Uhtred. Many of these individuals weren't particularly fond of Azincourt, whereas I quite liked that work. However, I hadn't the years of reading Cornwell's other series, so perhaps that affected my opinion. I had no real expectation or points of comparison since I'd only ever read his epic, not his shorter novels.

As it turns out, I don't love Uhtred as others do. I don't dislike him either. I didn't really feel much empathy toward him, or any of the other characters for that matter. This might have more to do with having only read the first book, while those who are fond of the main character have the benefit of having read the entire series. Perhaps that is why they are very enthusiastic in their encouragement to get stuck in - because as a whole it's a fab series. That isn't to say that I didn't enjoy the book; I did. It was a well laid out tale of a young man who must face the changes around him and make decisions to ensure his survival regardless of how incongruous those choices may affect his own personal moral and ethical codes.

Despite my indifference to Uhtred, I do very much enjoy Cornwell's ability to transport the reader through time and place. When an author details a landscape and era in such a way that evoke the grittiness of fear, war, and politics while simultaneously allowing a waft of sea air to punch through the pungent scents of sweat and death, then you know you have a book worthy of your time. The power struggles between Danes and English is clearly the focus, the secondary and equally dangerous battle between church and traditional worship appear to be explored only marginally. However, I expect that in the end, this will be the glue that keeps the series moving along. With the advantage of nearly a thousand years, we know that the ultimate battle between church and state is ever present and dominant throughout.

Not only because I own the rest of the books in the series, but because of genuine interest, I will read the next installment. Perhaps, given more time to woo me, I might even learn to like Uhtred as more than just a device that moves the story along. Therefore, I give the book 3.5 burning ships out of 5.

Don't Send The Zamboni Out Just Yet

Every once in a while we stumble across something that allows us to wrap ourselves in the warm comfort of our own lived histories. While the title of Sean Kelly's book Metal On Ice: Tales From Canada's Hard Rock And Heavy Metal Heroes seems to contradict the notions of warmth and comfort, the content, at least for me, was a time-machine back to the body-heat filled bars and taverns of the 80s and the comfort of music that assuaged my daily struggles as a teen. For various reasons my experiences differed (and still differ) from Mr. Kelly's but I noticed a commonality in our approach to the music scene of the day; and in the Canadian scene more specifically.

Despite the brevity of the book, it accomplishes two things: telling the story and explaining the experience of being a fan of metal music in Canada; and recounting the complexities of being a Canadian musician and the additional struggles of Canadian 'Metal' bands. Through interviews with many of the musicians of the day (many still playing in one form or another), Kelly paints a picture of the inception of the Metal scene to its demise with the onset of the Seattle grunge movement. But he does more than that. He details the complications of travelling from one venue to another in a lightly populated, yet enormous landmass filled with mountains, water features, and for all intents and purposes, highways that amount to not much more than glorified horse trails and goat paths. He explores the bizarre phenomenon where many Canadian bands were, sadly, appreciated more in Europe than on their home soil, and the difficulty in 'making it' by gaining the illusive (and decidedly ruinous) record contracts, especially in the United States.

What struck me most though was that despite the distance of time and the effects of the overall experiences these musicians had, every single one of them where laughing when telling their stories. This is evidenced by Kelly's meticulous us of '[laughing]' throughout the text. It occurred to me, that if a non-Canadian were to pick this book up, this is what they'd walk away knowing that - Canadians quintessentially like to laugh about their experiences, and they love to laugh when they tell stories, no matter the hardships involved.

When I first was told that I'd won a copy of the book on Twitter (Thanks Dundurn Press) I knew instinctively this was about metal bands playing in hockey arenas. However, now I'm thinking Kelly was quite clever in his choice of words by evoking a secondary meaning, that not only do Metal bands play on ice, but that while other music fads come and go, the Metal scene is biding it's time, and is 'on ice'. In other words, simply in a holding pattern, and with a little time, we'll be hearing it all fresh again, in our arenas and bars.

As always for the rating enthusiasts: I give this 4.5 rock horns of out 5.

Sacré bleu! J'en ai deux

While I'm not generally overly picky about subject matter or genre, there are times when I do have certain expectations, particularly with historical fictions. One of those expectations is that whatever historical information is known to us should not be altered much. I understand that in a fiction there are things that would simply drag a story, or make it less readable. I know that the compression of time is often necessary and I can accept that and other minor changes provided the author explains why. I guess it's my little test as to the credibility of an author? Or perhaps I simply dislike lies and mistruths? Who knows. The point is, that there are some authors who are known to play a little fast and loose with history and I've been hesitant to lay down hard earned cash. I am told that one such author is Conn Iggulden.

In my case, what Mr. Iggulden is also up against is that his two first big series are of eras I'm probably the least interested in, so I never felt all that bad about not exploring his books, they were never a subject I had to worry that friends and family would buy for me. However, his newest series is approaching an era that I'm familiar with, or that I'm at least somewhat knowledgeable in. The Wars of the Roses is not in itself a history I know a great deal about, but I do have some knowledge of the political and social challenges and issues of the medieval period. I may get a little confused about this John or that Richard, but am aware of the jostling for power by different royal houses in England and the Continent. As a result I thought that I'd give both Stormbird, the first of a series about the Wars of the Roses and Mr. Iggulden a try, to which occurred a rare event.

Despite having won nothing in over a year at Goodreads, I still tried my luck whenever a book of interest presented itself and I was fortunate enough to be selected. I received the advanced readers copy, read it and set it aside while I mulled over a review. About a week or so later, another copy of the same advanced readers copy (from the very same publisher) arrived at my door - a gift from Chapters/Indigo because of my longstanding membership as a loyalty card holder. I wasn't even aware that the Chapters/Indigo did that sort of thing. Either way, the message was clear; I was ready for Conn Iggulden and the Wars of the Roses and apparently they were ready for me.

The novel begins with how the two houses are related and carries on with why the Lancastrians and the Yorks became divided and out-maneuvered each other for power. The added conflicts with the French and the peasants was, in my opinion, rather well done. There was one small anachronism near the beginning that made me wonder at the author's intent for historical accuracy, something he did not address in his notes, and that was the use of the expression 'Bloody hell'. For all intents, this term was not in use for another two hundred years when it became synonymous with Mary Tudor's reign and her brutal reaction to Protestantism. I then felt that Mr. Iggulden was secretly just trying to find a way to fit in 'Sacré bleu!' and could only do so through the whole bloody hell bit. Neither reappears after that wee scene.

All in all, I quite liked the book. The size is large, as is the font and the language is uncomplicated but not simple. While it seems like a massive book the stories flow nicely and kept me intrigued. I also found myself wanting to know more about many of the characters, while others I came to dislike very much. I do admit to not understanding the inclusion of the Jew's story, unless there is some deeper meaning later, but within this story I found it superfluous at best. Having said that, I will definitely read the next installment.

For the ratings buffs: I give this 3.5 rose coquettes out of 5.

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Consolidation Completed(ish), Or Back In The Game

I have finally gotten around to consolidating the reviews that I could locate. One might ask themselves why there is a huge gab between mid-July and relatively recently. The answer is manifold, but essentially it comes down to not having been inspired to write reviews for the books I'd read. I still intend to write them, but I was in a bit of a writing funk. Not to mention that I was conflicted in some cases as to which blog to put them in. Add to that my disenchantment with Goodreads where I had at some point intended to be the only place I would add reviews. All of that aside, this blog will be where I house all my reviews, regardless of genre, method of acquisition and the rest.

The other reason there is such a huge gap is that I felt a little pressured to meet reading deadlines and the more deadlines I missed the less I felt like reading. Thus when I made the decision to start this blog, I also decided that I would no longer allow myself to be pressured into reading a book. I'll read whatever I feel like (yup, I'm one of those - emotional readers), when I feel like it. So, you won't be seeing an 'on the deck' type feature, because I failed every time I set one of those up. I'd read something like five books before I ever got to that one I'd promised. Then I'd have to hold off on the other reviews...meh, you probably really don't care about the process, so I'll drop it.

Needless to say, the reviews will appear when they appear, which may not be the order they were read and hopefully I won't go months between each. I can state that in the next week or so, I plan on hitting the backlog and hope to have some interesting opinions to share. Likely there will also be an interesting story or two about how I came to possess certain novels.

Planting Science

Living in an urban area with virtually no useable green-space to speak of, I'm always looking for ways to incorporate Nature's bounty in my life, whether as a medicinal aid or in the kitchen. So, I was delighted when fortune smiled down and Goodreads selected me as a Firstread winner for a copy of The Sweetness Of A Simple Life: Tips For Healthier, Happier And Kinder Living Gleaned From The Science And Wisdom Of Nature by Dianna Beresford-Kroeger.

Coming from a family whose livelihood was sustained through heavy industry and auto manufacturing, there was little time to teach us kids how to cultivate anything from nature. My paternal grandfather had a small patch of garden for he and my gran, and one summer my parents did attempt to grow some food for the winter. We were blessed with an over-abundance of string beans and a handful of tomatoes but the rest just didn't materialise. When my grandfather died some thirty years ago, there was no one left to teach us how to grow our own food.

Beresford-Kroeger doesn't teach anyone how to grow a garden. What she does is explain the importance of reaching out to Nature for the things we need and she backs it up with science. She offers information about how some plants can help prevent or combat the ailments brought on by industrial and urban pollutants. There are tips and advice on the types of plants that improve our state of mind just by their scent, or that give one's pets an opportunity to play and relax. These tips do; however, make one believe that anyone can develop a green-thumb.

The best thing about this diminutive book is that it's written in easy to understand language. There are no pie-charts or graphs, no unpronounceable words, no awkwardly formulated theories and conclusions. None of the chapters, with the exception of perhaps one, exceeds five pages, and the explanations include everyday uses. While not all of the suggestions are possible for everyone, the author clearly points out the few things that can be achieved on an apartment balcony or a window sill, and also recommends tree and plant combinations for larger green-spaces (though this is only realised as one progresses through the book).

I truly think that this very easy to read book should be in all homes, even if for no other reason than to be able to understand how many chemicals with fewer benefits we have that replace the things that Nature offers to us if we bother to work for it. I do offer one small caveat - Beresford-Kroeger is not afraid of tossing in some bits of sarcasm about our consumption and dependence of unnecessarily manufactured goods.

I give this book 4.5 root cellars out of 5.