The author is a book reviewer for the Washington Post; this is the story of his life up until graduation from university.
What I Liked
Dirda was recommended to me by a colleague from work, whose appetites for reading are far more literary than mine. He actually recommended Bound to Please, which is a collection of Dirda’s reviews of more literary prose from throughout history, but I tripped over this book first. I’m quite glad I did as I probably won’t read the collection of essays until I’ve read most of the tomes reviewed, but An Open Book is a fantastic autobiography.
It reads in some place like Angela’s Ashes without the darkness of Irish poverty. However, it is not without conflict or family dysfunction during the author’s childhood, and he tells the story in places with openness and unashamed personal bias.
The main part of the story recounts Dirda’s intellectual progress as he moved through comic strips from the newspaper (p.49), pun and joke books (everyone sing: “great green gobs of greasy grimy gopher guts”!), the TAB book club (p.66), the Hardy Boys and Tom Swift series (p.90), a brief stint with romance novels (p.201), and the importance of great literature to challenging society and even changing history (p.290). It also includes his non-literary education – playing with BB guns (p.81), understanding firsthand how hard his father’s job was (p.185), learning about art and music (p.267), the ceasing to care about grades when writing essays and the corresponding improvements in marks (p.310), the contribution of early influences in his life to later character traits (p.320), and looking back at one’s life (p.321).
The book recounts his life relatively linearly in time, yet with lots of interesting digressions that veer away from developments in his personal life and situation with the book he was reading at the time.
What I Didn’t Like
It would have been interesting to see more of the reactions from teachers throughout the author’s life, including perhaps even tracking some of them down. It is hard to imagine exactly how certain ones would have reacted to his precocious reading of more advanced novels, and the existing allusions to some of their reactions are rudimentary at best. As well, the final decision (to become a freelance journalist upon leaving university) is rushed in the story and negates much of the relaxed pace to that point.
The Bottom Line
See the early influences on a literary book reviewer.
This book is an anthology of women’s experiences in Canada during World War II. The anthology is a collection of first-person narratives from 57 women who served in various branches of the armed forces, auxiliaries, and private industry in Canada during World War II. Each of the narratives has a similar chronology and approach – what the women were doing before the war, how they joined the Armed Forces or supporting occupation, their experiences during the war (both personal and professional), their life-in-brief after the war, and, finally, a chance for them to pass some judgement on “what did it all mean” for them or for women in general.
What I Liked
Although I know the editor, and hence added the book to my reading list for that reason, the stories and subject matter are compelling to me in their own right. I can remember reading a USA Today article back in 2001 about the efforts of some U.S. organizations to capture oral histories of their WWI and II survivors, archiving them at the Library of Congress and elsewhere. Volunteer organizations set up sample questionnaires and encouraged young Americans to interview their grandparents about their experiences in the war, recording them and sending them off to be archived. Distributed processing of oral histories is a great technique that works with limited resources, and I remember getting excited about it, wondering what we were doing for Canadian histories? As it turns out, quite a bit.
The Department of Veterans Affairs has a website that captures a lot of this for Canada and has some great materials available to all online. This book captures the often-missed histories of women during that time. The individual stories are compelling and varied in place of origin, type of occupation, impact, and all the elements that comprise the story of each woman, presented in their own words. It is an amazing collective resource for anyone doing research on the era and would serve as both a stand-alone text as well as a supplement to the experiences of others (mostly men) during the Second World War covered elsewhere. And it includes all the things people would expect, which I won’t cover in detail, as well as some surprising elements that transcend the ordinary.
First and foremost, the book does a fine job of avoiding over-stating the impact of WWII on the women’s movement…the tendency in many publications of this sort would be to say “this era is important, these women are important, and therefore this time was the sole catalyst for changing the world forever for women”. However, as many of the stories note, a lot of changes were already underway. This doesn’t discount the impact or added impetus of the time, but also places it in a larger context, where women were no longer only being considered second-class citizens. Many of the women left decent jobs to join the Armed Forces, putting a lie to the often-popular view that the women simply “left the house” for the first time during WWII. Second, the small details from individual stories are particularly riveting, golden nuggets of their experiences:
the lack of common knowledge about the true horrors of the concentration camps until much later after the war – while lots of organizations try to argue or advocate that people in other countries knew but sat and did nothing to prevent the atrocities, they make that argument with the wisdom of hindsight, forgetting that while rumours ran wild, very few people believed the true level of catastrophe when they heard those rumours…only after the reality was truly known and documented could people look back and say “that particular rumour there” was true, and we should have believed it. Without a reference point, lots of people would not – and maybe could not – believe that such atrocities were possible. Even today, it is hard for people to accept genocide as a real event even though it’s happened before (Jacqueline Laplante, p.22, Elizabeth Hunt, p.142) yet there was some official recognition of the problems as many Jewish people were told to change their identifications before fighting overseas (Nano Penefeather-McConnell, p.126-127);
the experience of women’s rifle training and teams (Jacqueline Laplante, p.28);
the role played by French priests in some family decisions in Quebec, with many of the priests trying hard to prevent the women from joining up or calling them home claiming their birth certificates were forged (Mary Saunders, p.28, et al);
the commonplace / matter-of-fact way of dealing with notifications of deaths in the family (Ruth Ralston, p.72);
the drafting of women in England (Elizabeth Hunt, p.134);
the impact on the economy in Quebec in 1939 with many farming families suddenly having boosts in their family income with many sons and daughters working in factories, and for families in general with work plentiful and banks willing to give loans again (Olive Villeneuve, p.166); and,
the two government employees explaining to them in 1941 that there were going to be new deductions from their wages for something called “income tax” and “unemployment insurance” (Olive Villeneuve, p.168).
My favourite story is the impact of reading Lorna Stanger (p.161) talking about VE-Day in Europe. For the first time since the war started, they could have the lights in the city on at night and had it all lit up. For the youngest children, many had only known black-outs and air-raid sirens, and seeing the lights at night actually scared them.
What I Didn’t Like
My biggest complaint is self-inflicted – I did not follow the advice of the Chief Archivist for DND who recommends in the introduction that people should read a few stories at a time. My challenge was simply that I borrowed the book from the library, so with limited time, I plowed through them. And hence probably had a lessened impact than if they were read properly.
As a result, I found myself in some places confusing stories with the previous one, thinking “how did she do that? Wasn’t she in Europe by then?” and then paging back to realize it was a different woman with a similar occupation. In others though, I find myself struggling with the format – the stories appear one after another, seemingly ungrouped in any way. I can’t help wondering if there would be more impact if the stories had been alternatively grouped to convey a stronger message.
For example, they could have been grouped by province – would those who were born in Ontario have a different experience than those in Winnipeg? Ordering by service branch would be an obvious option but might negate some of the commonalities across branches. One could organize by a dozen other possibilities too, such as their posting, occupation, age at induction, future careers, whether they went overseas, etc.
In the end, the challenge might just be the biographical genre. Given the wealth of information, I found myself wanting to see some analysis across the anthology that you could digest and pull out, rather than just the raw text. But that would be a different text then, perhaps one more for academics to produce. And absent the analysis, I wanted to see different ways of sorting – but that too would be a different publication, more of a database than a book.
Keziah Dane is a struggling single mother in 1939. Her husband died two years before in a flood, trying to rescue other townspeople, and her son was taken too. This leaves Keziah with no money, and she has to look after four remaining sons and two daughters. In addition, her mother-in-law has gone a little batty with the loss of her son, leaving Keziah to take care of her too. A passing drifter sees the family burying the family dog and figures if they are burying something, it must be money. He ingratiates himself into the family posing as an unconventional minister, and tries to figure out how to get the money. The sub-stories are fairly straightforward – the oldest son wants to go back to the flooded town and dive for salvage, despite the danger; the second oldest son is working for a local farmer and falling in love with the daughter; and the remaining family members are struggling through being at school with much wealthier families.
What I Liked
The sub-story with the second oldest son falling in love with the local farmer’s daughter is really well-done. Her mother is a hypochondriac with a small problem with her foot, but it is interesting to see how the son deals with her, ending up as an excuse to spend time in the house near the daughter. The blossoming romance between the two of them – one practical, one romantic – is really well done, and natural, albeit perhaps mis-placed in time (would work even better in the 1800s, except for the physical side perhaps). I also like the hook for using the farmer himself to drive a plot twist near the end. There is a scene with the drifter and the buried treasure that is beyond disgusting, and made me shudder – a perfectly done description by Grafton. I could see it and I really didn’t want to anymore. Blech. In a good way. The struggle of the children to adapt to their situation, the realization that they are poor and what that means, is strongly written, and captures the heartache, pride, jealousy, desire, fear, happiness, and importance of family that goes along with it. I thought there were a few too many young kids to talk about in the story, and Grafton could have got by with two fewer in my view, but it was not a complete distraction.
What I Didn’t Like
The opening is fairly basic, reminiscent of Old Yeller, and doesn’t do much to hook the reader. I’m almost ambivalent towards Keziah Dane herself as she seems like the perfect mother – understanding when she needs to be, long-time sufferer or martyr who soldiers on, but I would have liked to see more conflict within her. A lover perhaps that she goes to visit occasionally. In addition, there is a conflict near the end of the story that is bizarre in detail, although so confused and disjointed in places that it is hard to tell what exactly is happening. The ending is also a little pat, with everyone better off. Grafton potentially missed an opportunity with the chronology – setting the story in November 1939 could have included a hint of the outside world intruding, but no wind of change is blowing their way. It could have easily been set in the 1800s with no real loss of story.
Diana Gordon has retired from being a private investigator after being shot, and is living the simple life in Port Findlay, Washington running her own photography studio. But a local woman is murdered, and when Gordon finds the body, she can’t resist doing a little personal investigating. And she turns up links to her past and how she got shot — for taking a photograph of someone who didn’t want to be captured.
What I Liked
Diana’s character is relatively straightforward, and it is an interesting cast of sub-characters. Hard to tell if this will be a series or a one-off book, but it works either way. The politics of a photography show provide a nice backdrop, and this would work as almost-cozy, except for a little direct violence in two places.
What I Didn’t Like
Her partner in Port Findlay, Conor Callahan, is a bit neurotic and there is a major change in his perspective by the end of the book. Gordon doesn’t reveal her past to everyone as she goes along, and it is a “secret” that causes problems early on — for no apparent reason as she knows she’s going to have to spill eventually. Equally, the reason the photograph is causing problems is so obvious to the reader, it is grating to see our star investigator proceed through most of the book before figuring it out.
Tempe finds herself in Guatemala investigating a mass grave, and while she’s there, the local police decide to avail themselves of her forensics expertise to investigate four missing girls and one dead body in a sewer.
What I Liked
The cast of characters is large and there are some historical elements included related to Guatemalan history.
What I Didn’t Like
Tempe bounces around Guatemala too much, helping the only honest detective in a sea of corruption, and figures out missing girls, links to stem cell research, and takes her sweet time doing it. She even finds time to link it to her friends in Montreal, who just so happen to have gone to school with her detective partner in Guatemala. Beyond far-fetched, and casting aspersions on everyone she describes and the way they work, this one should have been a secret Reichs took to the grave. And finally, a bit of a spoiler, she rips off Janet Evanovich’s technique of not finishing the romance part of the book — you know she’s chosen someone but not whom. Stay tuned to the next in the series to find out which one, I suppose.
