New Literature Prize. . .

It's fairly crowded in the world of literary awards; I work in the industry and even I can't keep track of them all.  But according to this article in The Bookseller,  The Literature Prize - started in part as a response to the Man Booker Prize allegedly too concerned with the "readability" of its shortlist - seems set for the spring of 2012.  There are a few things about this award that look promising. The judges will be chosen from a group of 40 - 50 members of an academy of writers and critics who are "immersed full-time in the world of books", and founder Andrew Kidd promises that the award will, "unashamedly embrace the idea of the book as art . . . and that has to do with language, form, ideas, and storytelling, and the unity of all those things." There will also be no longlist, just a shortlist.

Bring it on.

A Whale of Inspiration. . .

I love it when different art forms get inspired by one another. For example.  First came a literary masterpiece, Moby Dick by Herman Melville.

Which prompted artist Matt Kish to embark on an amazing project of illustrating every page of this massive novel. It's been published by Tin House in this beautiful collection:  Moby-Dick in Pictures: One Drawing For Every Page.  You can quickly see some of Kish's work on his blog here and follow the whole project here.

This then inspired designer Ann Weaver to create some knitting designs based on Kish's illustrations, which are now available in her book White Whale Volume 1.  You can take a peek at the designs here.  I really like the cover sweater, aptly named "The Whiteness".

Someone's probably already done this, but if I had the time (and more importantly the talent), I could get endlessly inspired to conjure up knitting patterns inspired from Virginia Woolf's work, especially To The Lighthouse.   From the brown stocking Mrs. Ramsey is actually knitting, to seascapes and lighthouses, boeuf en daubes and Lily's final painting, the possibilities would be endless.  And what fun you could have with Mrs. Dalloway, Orlando, Between the Acts or The Waves!

My New Motto. . .

Isn't this adorable?  It came with a whole bunch of other labels as a bonus with the October issue of Knitting Magazine.  Even though the import prices are hefty, I do love British magazines, not least because they often include goodies like this.  Since knitting has been a major anti-stress reliever for me recently, this is a motto I can wholeheartedly embrace.  And the issue is pretty good too, with some lovely sweater patterns. 

The Big Book Is Here. . .

Today sees the release of Haruki Murakami's 1Q84 which I've been excited about for months now.  I'm about 200 pages in and so far it's riveting.  I have to warn you - the book is heavy!  But despite that, you just wouldn't want to read this on an e-reader because it's really beautifully designed. When you remove the translucent jacket you get this:

And the pages inside are just as beautiful and slightly mysterious.  You can see Chip Kidd talking about his design for the book here.

And do yourself a favour and pick up a copy of Leoš Janáček's Sinfonietta as it plays a recurring role in the novel.  I will be happily absorbed in this for some time. . .

Adding to the Stash (The Other One). . .

A funny thing happened on the way to last weekend's Creative Sewing and Needlework Festival.  I was making a checklist of different yarns I needed for various upcoming projects and was prepared to stick firmly to that list.  But instead, to my great surprise, my inner quilter came out, seduced by the numerous great fabrics and finished quilts on display in every row. End result - no yarn bought, but  I definitely succumbed to far too many fat quarters on sale.  

I wasn't completely abandoning sheep though. Look at this great fabric that I found (and no, I have no idea what I'll do with the metre that I bought, but I just couldn't resist!)

I was also really pleased to see Kallisti Quilts there. They are an online only company that specializes in really gorgeous Japanese and African fabrics, both traditional and contemporary.  

I also picked up some really cool handcrafted wooded buttons from The Woodlot.  And some lovely handle hardware from Quilt a Bag.   But no wool.  I think I might have been turned off by a rather unhappy looking alpaca that was shut up in a tiny pen on the show floor. Now if I can only find a project that combines the two crafts.  I think I might be quilting a bag to hold my knitting projects in the near future. . . 

A Cozy, Fun Knit. . .

Brrrr - it's getting cold out.  Finished this fun shawl/scarf this week and really enjoyed knitting the addictive pattern by Toronto designer Laura Chau which you can find here.  The bright colours remind me of French macarons. Tomorrow I'm heading to the Creative Sewing and Needlework Festival where I'm fairly sure I'll succumb to far too many wool temptations.  Still, I'm really looking forward to getting lots of inspiration. Winter's just around the corner after all!

Hooray!

I'm so pleased that Julian Barnes has taken the Man Booker Prize for The Sense of An Ending - this has been one of my favourite reads all year and well deserves the honour.  I think his writing has gotten better and better with each recent book.  I loved Flaubert's Parrot, but the novels in between were hit and miss for me.  I started reading him seriously again with his non-fiction mediation on death - Nothing to Be Frightened Of - and I loved his last collection of short stories, Pulse.

Two Great Musical Collaborations. . .

I spent most of the weekend knitting, alternating between two projects that I was pretty excited about.  And then on Sunday night, unhappy with the look of , and frustrated with the number of mistakes I'd made with the other, I "frogged" them both.  When I first heard this term, I thought it was the knitting community being polite instead of using another "f" expletive, as in "I really F*&;%#*ed this up!" but no, it refers to tearing apart your work, i.e. "rip it, rip it".  Sigh.   If nothing else, knitting is teaching me lots of patience.

The other thing it allows me to do is take the time to really listen closely to CDs. While I  love my iPod, I have rarely bought music from iTunes, always preferring to browse among the ever-shrinking aisles of actual CDs and loading them on afterwards. I like to look at the album artwork, stumble unexpectedly over something that looks interesting, and when I do buy a CD, I like reading the physical booklet with the lyrics and liner notes. I rarely know what I'll end up taking home and that's half the fun.  And that's how I recently acquired these two really enjoyable collaborations.

I have a previous Stacey Kent CD titled Raconte-Moi which I discovered in a listening booth in a classical music shop in Oakville,  and I really liked how clear she sang in French. So I already was a fan of her voice and light jazz style. Breakfast on the Morning Tram quite frankly enticed me with the song titles; it seemed to be a romantic album all about travelling.  So imagine my immense delight on opening the accompanying booklet to discover that the lyricist on four of the songs is none other than Kazuo Ishiguro!  Now I shouldn't be too surprised that he has a musical yen - his last collection of short stories, Nocturnes, were all centered around a musical theme.  And in his lyrics, he continues to tell stories. "The Ice Hotel" is about a couple who reject the tropics for their holiday in favour of an ice hotel because they really need to talk about their relationship.  "I Wish I Could Go Travelling Again" is about a woman yearning for the joys of travel but knowing that if she does, it will only lead to painful memories.  "Breakfast on the Morning Tram" is an almost surreal song about a city tram that serves a full buffet breakfast and cures a broken heart as well.  And  in "So Romantic", a woman regretfully remembers how she and her previous lover would disagree on what was really romantic. The music, by Jim Tomlinson, is reminiscent of those great songs from the 1920s or 30s. Ironically, he did not write the lyrics to the song "Never Let Me Go", which I like to think has been included because Stacey Kent has a wicked sense of humour.   It's a really lovely album - wistful, playful, joyful - and I hope Ishiguro continues with this second career.

And then there is Hush, a terrific pairing of Bobby McFerrin with Yo-Yo Ma as the two cover a lot of different musical styles from classical to lullaby to even a hoedown.  Their rendition of "Ave Maria" is incredible - hearing McFerrin's soaring voice is really akin to listening to something very special and almost sacred.

Icelandic Mysteries. . .

I started Arnaldur Indridason's latest, Outrage, translated by Anna Yates, on the train home from Ottawa. He's one of my favourite Scandinavian crime writers and I like his tightly plotted police proceedures.  I thought this would be another Inspector Erlendur mystery, but it follows on from the last book,  Hypothermia; at the end of that case, Erlendur took some time off and went away to the Eastern fjords, where his younger brother went missing in a snowstorm decades ago. This event has always haunted him, especially as the body was never found.

So the latest murder case in Reykjavik falls to his colleague Elinborg to solve. A man has been found with his throat slit and the date-rape drug Rohypnol in his pockets.  A subsequent autopsy reveals that the murdered man's body was also full of the drug.  Elinborg has to use old fashioned detective work to discover potential witnesses and to track down possible victims of the man, all the while trying to balance her duties as wife (and main family cook) and mother of three. Which makes a refreshing change from the usual moody, male detective who rarely has mundane parental chores to occupy his mind.  Elinborg worries about everything from her son's obsession with his blog, to guilt over not being at home to help her daughter's knitting assignment (and isn't it great that Icelandic kids have to knit as part of their schooling?).  And she hates having to answer her work cell phone when she's at home.  But she's tough and diligent at her job, and not above firmly reprimanding a colleague when he screws up. The case veers into many lines of investigation including the unsolved murder of a young girl several years ago. Elinborg's patience, cleverness and expertise with Indian spices - she's also a published cookbook author - solve most of the mysteries.

But we're left hanging as to the whereabouts of Erlendur.  Elinborg gets a call informing her that his car has been abandoned and there's been no sight of him. Will we find out what happened in the next book, or will he become a missing persons case himself (obsessed as he is by this type of mystery)?  Indridason may be turning his focus to Elinborg which would be just fine by me as I really liked her as a character.  I do worry about Erlendur though and hope he's safe.

A Lovely Visit to Ottawa or Things You Can't Get in Toronto. . .

Took the train up to Ottawa at the end of last week for a brief work jaunt.  It's a city that grows on me each time I visit.  I love all the bike trails (and they now have a barricaded bike lane on Laurier - similar to some of the lanes they've installed in Montreal), and it's such a pretty city to walk around, particularly in the fall and especially with the gorgeous weather we've been having recently.

As with any travel destination, I'm always drawn to shops and restaurants that aren't available in my home city. On this trip, I booked a later train home to give me some extra free time, and I'm afraid I over-indulged in some retail therapy. Here are just a few haunts I like in the nation's capital city.

Places to Eat:
Best place to go for breakfast:  The Scone Witch  (love their lemon poppyseed and their herb & onion scones - I always get extra for the train ride home.)

Favourite place to pick up a latte: Ottawa's local chain Bridgehead  (they also have a awesome lemon scone - can you sense a theme here?)

Favourite Thai Restaurant:  Khao Thai.  They have a really yummy appetizer platter of satay chicken, spring rolls and minced pork served on orange slices.  I also like their peanut sauce and their pad thai which is not bright orange.

New Favourite Restaurant:  Zen Kitchen.  This was my first ever all-vegan meal and it was delicious. So many interesting flavour combinations.

Unique stores to check out:
Cool clothing: Roadtrip   Always something original and fun to see.

Housewares and gifts:  Zone  (they also have great costume jewelry and awesome bags - I've been looking for a new fall bag in an earthy tone and found this great two-in-one number. They can be used separately, or the smaller one attaches on the inside of the larger, allowing for important things to be enclosed with a zipper and other miscellany - knitting, a book - to be shoved down around it. It's the perfect size - I really love it!)

French books:  Librairie du Soleil.  Located in the Market, I always pop in for a browse. I like to see the different covers on the French editions of books I've read, and in my unending optimism that I'll make the time to improve my French, I usually end up buying something.  This trip, I found two beautifully packaged classics - the subject for another blog post once I get my camera sorted.

Yarn: Of course I have to check out local yarn stores and I really like Yarn Forward in the Glebe area.  I found some gorgeous chunky wool in a deep red colour and bought all four skeins that they had. Started my first sweater on the train ride home and have now run out with only 60% completed.  I'm hoping I can find more here in Toronto and the search will start in earnest next week.  I've modified a simple pattern and added some extra texture. It may all prove to be quite daft - I'll have to see how it looks when it's done. But it's been a lot of fun to knit.

Picked up some magazines, CDs and a summery shirt on sale as well - I was really quite bad. Ah well, it's all out of my system now. . .

France's Bad Boy Takes On The Art World

The Guardian an interesting review of Michel Houellebecq's new novel The Map and the Territory , translated by Gavin Bowd, which has just been published in the U.K.  (It'll be out in Canada in January).   The focus of the review is about the novel's satire of the contemporary art world, but what intrigues me the most is its mention of one of the themes being the cult of the French countryside being manipulated by Michelin.  The main character is an artist who uses Michelin road maps in his work. I've never read Houellebecq before, but this novel did win the Prix Goncourt last year, so this may be the book to start with.  Above is the North American cover, but I'm drawn more to the U.K. cover  - don't you just want to start popping that bubblewrap?

A Perfect Pairing. . .

Caught a wonderful production of Private Lives at the Royal Alexandra Theatre this week, directed by Richard Eyre.  This is one of my favourite plays and I've seen a couple of other Canadian productions, all good in their varying interpretations.  Brian Bedford played a very world-weary Elyot in 2001 at Stratford against a sophisticated Seana McKenna.  I adored a CanStage production a few years before that with Albert Schultz (very bemused) up against a deliciously sleek and snarling Brenda Robbins - I still remember her arm coming out of the pile of cushions at the start of the second act and the use of a fountain on the famous balcony scene was a splendid touch. 

I equally loved this pairing of Paul Gross and Kim Cattrall. Gross was a sexy, impatient and exasperated Elyot, almost Cary Grant-like, which was perfectly matched to Cattrall's Amanda, alternating cool blondness with raging physicality.  And let's face it - she looked amazing in those sleek gowns and even just wrapped in a towel.  The set was creative and original, especially in the second act, with its interesting use of circular and goldfish motifs and the actors really used the space well and to comic effect.  I think actors in a Coward play often rush through the text, but not these two who found interesting intonations in the words, thus allowing me to listen to very familiar lines as if they were completely fresh.  Great supporting work from Anna Madeley as Sybil (one of my pet peeves with this play is Sybil is often far too shrill - not in this production) and Simon Paisley Day as Victor (again, not played as a caricature, just an ordinary man completely unable to understand Amanda's vibrant personality). A few accent slips now and then, but a thoroughly enjoyable production.  It's on until the end of October and well worth the ticket price!

Can't Wait For This One. . .

And some great upcoming movie news.  The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel will be out in the spring of 2012.  How can this miss with the great cast - Judi Dench, Maggie Smith, Bill Nighy, Tom Wilkinson, Dev Patel, and Penelope Wilton.  Check out the trailer above.  It's based on a very funny novel I read many years ago - These Foolish Things by Deborah Maggoch - about a group of senior Brits who come to India lured by the promise of a luxury retirement home, much cheaper than anything they can afford in England, and their subsequent comic and touching adventures.

P.D. James Takes On Jane Austen. . .

Here's some really exciting news for the fall season, just announced. Any new P.D. James mystery is a cause for celebration but this new crime novel is also set in the world of Pride and Prejudice, six years after Elizabeth and Darcy's marriage.  The murder victim?  None other than Wickham. Could this get more delicious?  Death Comes to Pemberley will be out in Canada at the end of November.
Can't wait to read this!

Behind the Scenes at the Tour de France. . .

So I was waiting in line getting my festival tickets and as you do, started chatting with the people around me. The guy in front had an accent so I asked him what part of England he came from.

"Well not many people know of it, it's a town called Bedford."
"Really?  I just happen to be reading a book by a guy who grew up in Bedford. That's just a bit north of London isn't it?"
"Yes, about 50km.  Who is the author?"
"Ned Boulting. He's a sports journalist; he's written a book about covering the Tour de France."
"Really? I went to school with a guy named Ned Boulting."

It really is a small world. When his wife returned bringing him a coffee, we also established that we'd all eaten in the same small restaurant in the suburbs of Liverpool and that we also shared a similar taste in British films, if our tickets were anything to go by.

Boulting has been covering the Tour for British television since 2003, roughly about the time I too became a fan.  He and I knew very little about the intricacies of the sport - what the heck a green jersey was, how the peloton worked, and why would so many guys work so hard pulling their bodies over huge mountains to help someone else win? You learn as you go, and as things start to make sense, one slowly becomes obsessed with this gruelling and fascinating sport, even despite the constant disappointments around the constant doping scandals.

In his book How I Won the Yellow Jumper, there are reflections on, and encounters with, some of the big names of the sport - Armstrong, Wiggins, Cavendish - but this is really a  look at the army of people involved behind the scenes, from the journalists and photographers, to the caterers, the hotel staff, and even the crazy fans who camp out on the mountains. They all need to eat, sleep, travel from stage to stage, do laundry, and  pee; all of which produces numerous logistical conundrums and frequently amusing anecdotes. The driving in particular is a nightmare - all those narrow, steep mountain roads, with big trucks and dangerous speed demons. And then there are the challenges of interviewing a rider at the beginning of a stage and having to get to the finish line ahead of the peloton (without getting lost on the side streets).  Boulting is also very funny on the difficulties he's had over the years (as most sports journalists can probably attest to) about staking out a reluctant athlete and coming up with intelligent questions beyond "How does it feel?".

What we want now, what TV demands to know, is the stuff that has remained hidden to this point, the stuff the blank stare of the lens cannot hope to unearth. The joy goes without saying; the delight is self-evident. TV wants to find out what the rider has within him: the hidden agenda, the feud resolved, maybe, the personal motivation born from some sense of grief or injustice or anger. Can the rider blurt this emotion out? Can he paint words for us all, which bring back the thrill of watching the win unfold? What can he say to make a good feeling better? And, I return to my initial question: where do I start?

This is an entertaining and informative book that could be enjoyed by someone who has never watched the Tour, or a die-hard fan glued to the TV screen for most of July.

TIFF Part 2: Two Successful Literary Adaptations. . .

The last two films I saw at TIFF were completely different in style, but both were literary adaptations about how deeply and profoundly love can linger or shake us to our core.  And both were very enjoyable to watch.

My favourite film of the festival so far has been Terence Davies' adaptation of Terence Rattigan's moving play The Deep Blue Sea, starring Rachel Weisz, Tom Hiddleston and Simon Russell Beale. Weisz plays Hester, a woman who has left her husband and comfortable lifestyle after falling in love with a brash, alcoholic pilot whose best days were during the war. They live in a shabby flat and at the beginning of the film, she has just attempted suicide, caught between a lover who no longer is in love with her, and a well-meaning husband who she simply can't love or return to. I was completely absorbed in this film from the start - the performances, particularly by Weisz who is beautifully vulnerable and raw, the gorgeous set design that captures all of the post-war bleakness and especially the amazing score.  Davies always knows how to use music to enhance his storytelling whether it's the soaring, emotional Violin Concerto Op.14  by Samuel Barber that he uses for the dramatic scenes (I had to go out and buy myself a CD right after the movie), or the sentimental songs sung by crowds in a pub or for comfort in a bomb shelter.  I completely teared up when the the couple was dancing to Jo Stafford's rendition of "You Belong to Me".  And what a treat to have Davies there, along with Weisz and Hiddleston, for the Q & A following the screening.  He's such a firecracker - jumping eagerly forward on the stage to answer questions, quoting Shakespeare and generally excited to be there, having shot this on a very small budget. And here's Weisz and Hiddleston (sorry for the blurred photo - I think I was a bit excited too!)

The next night, I saw the Chilean movie Bonsái , directed by Cristián Jiménez and based on Alejandro Zamba's novella of the same name, which I had read a few years ago and admired. It's the story of a young man's first love, intensified by the books the couple reads in bed at night (despite the two having lied to each other early in the relationship about having read Proust). This relationship is retold a decade later in the novel he is writing, while pretending to his new girlfriend that it's the manuscript of a famous writer that he's just typing up. Proustian time and memory was certainly a major theme throughout,  but there was also a wistful lightness to this film that was charming and humourous while also quite sad at times.  It's difficult to capture the internal importance of literature and the act of reading on celluloid, but this movie tried to explore, and generally successed at capturing some of its essence. I recommend both it and the novella.

Round Trip. . .

I was in Calgary on a work trip last week but managed to find time to visit two really lovely yarn stores. The Make One Yarn Studios has comfy couches and more importantly had skeins of the 8400 shade of Cascade 220 that I had just run out of, and still needed for my log cabin blocks. Hooray! I love taking knitting to the airport - it just makes the time go by so much faster. Another store I will definitely return to is the wonderfully named Pudding Yarn which had an intoxicating selection. This fall I'm completely drawn to all shades of purple and eggplant and I ended up buying a few skeins of this lovely purple tweed.  I knew I immediately wanted to knit a cosy cowl. 

This is the very first project I've ever completed using circular needles without getting it all twisted up and throwing it across the room in exasperation.  It's a small thing, but it feels like a real personal victory!  I did a simple chevron pattern which doesn't really show up, but does give it some extra texture. I love it - just waiting now for some cooler fall days.

Tales From TIFF. . .

I haven't bought one yet, but I do love the TIFF messenger bag and actually all of their merchandise is quite nice and reasonably priced. It's the films though, that have taken a large chunk out of my credit card but so far, so good.

I started yesterday with a real winner - a gorgeously filmed tribute to black and white films and the silent era.  It was The Artist, directed by Michel Hazanavicius who I applaud for having the artistic guts  to create a silent film in this 21st century of 3D movies and state of the art special effects, not that he doesn't imaginatively employ a few of the latter himself.  Jean Dujardin stars as George Valentin,  a charming, successful silent film actor whose career spirals downward when the talkies come to Hollywood. Berenice Bejo is  Peppy Miller, a struggling actress given her first break by Valentin, but as her career soars, her attempts to help George revive his career, come up against his pride and ego.  The plot resembles a lot of movies from the 1920s and 30s, but what makes The Artist such a cinematic treat is - ironically for a silent movie - the director's clever use of sound.  There is almost zero dialogue in the entire movie or sound effects, but when they do make an appearance, they are used so effectively in enhancing both the humour and the style of the whole picture.  There's a dream sequence that is just brilliant.  There are definite homages to Singing in the Rain and the dance partnerships of Fred Astaire with both Ginger Rogers and Eleanor Powell;  Dujardin is also definitely channelling the charm of Gene Kelly.  I loved, loved this film. Great score too - a must for a silent film. 

I then dashed off to see Andrea Arnold's adaptation of Wuthering Heights.  I'm still in two minds about this one.  There were aspects of the film that I liked very much.  She certainly got the weather right;  I was chatting to someone afterwards about the film and he said it could have been renamed "the four seasons of Wuthering Heights".  And I thought it was interesting to have the entire film shot from Heathcliff's point of view.  So no Lockwood, and Nelly plays a very minor role.  However, I really wished she'd filmed the whole book. This is a novel about an intricate plot of revenge and also about the healing of the two houses at the end.  As such, you really need to tell the story of the next generation - the second Cathy, Linton and Hareton.  I don't know why film-makers always shy away from this.  Arnold takes a few tentative steps - she does show Heathcliff wrestling ownership of Wuthering Heights from Hindley, but that's about it, choosing instead to focus on the childhood Cathy and Heathcliff, who is played as a runaway slave, by a black actor, which works very effectively although a lot of his language, especially his cursing, seemed too modern for the period (I could be completely wrong about this).  The younger actors, especially the younger Cathy were terrific, which made the appearance of the older Cathy, played by a different actress, quite a let down. I actually thought it was Isabella when she first came on screen. It's a very visceral film; full of mud and wildlife (maybe too many dead bunnies for my liking) and raw emotions, and it's certainly different from other adaptations.  But I still think the definitive film has yet to be made.

Three On the Go. . .

It's been rather cold and rainy this holiday weekend, but I haven't really minded. It's been great for catching up with reading and knitting projects.  My log cabin blanket is progressing really well. I've done eight blocks and I think twelve in total plus a border, will do nicely to drape over a sofa  or be used as a bedspread.

And then I've been rather obsessive about the beekeeper's quilt and all those hexagon puffs. They are so addictive - I've done about twenty-five now which is very far away from a finished quilt. But even at this stage, I'm wondering whether to go for a completely random look like this:

Or to start organizing them better by colour and forming a more cohesive pattern like this:

To make matters worse, I tried knitting my first mitred block and it was so much fun, I'm now contemplating yet another blanket project.  What I love about these blocks is not only the crazy stripes, but the raised stitches from the turns, which will form yet another wonderful textured pattern when the quilt is complete, just like "real quilting" would do.

I'm in real trouble here.  With three blanket projects on the go, is there any hope that I'll get one of them completed by the first snow fall?  And will I ever go back to real quilting?  Anyone else in a similar dilemma?

Film Festival Frenzy. . .

Every year, I tell myself I just won't do it.  I won't go through the frustrating, multi-hour hassle of trying to get single tickets to the Toronto International Film Festival online.  And yet every year, I succumb to the excitement of it all and the list of amazing films on offer, and get up bright and early, ready to hit that "reload" button a million times before I finally get through.  Last year it took me nearly three hours.

This morning I had my fingers posed nimbly over the purchase button waiting for my computer clock to flash 7am.  And lo and behold, it took me about five minutes to get in, and I was completely finished by 7:27am.  Hallelujah!  Then I went down to the Festival Office to pick up my tickets, only to learn that not only had the system subsequently crashed shortly after I got off it, but all the printers had gone down as well.  I stayed in line for about 45 minutes chatting with other film fans in the hopes they'd have it fixed, but no such luck. I'm okay though - my tickets are confirmed and I just have to pick them up at another time.  If I'd been one of those who had lined up since 5pm yesterday afternoon, I'd be a bit upset.  But seriously, despite these computer glitches, TIFF really has improved their website. Most importantly, once you are in, you are in to the end.  In previous years, you'd finally get through, choose your tickets and have the system time out just as you were typing in your credit card information. And you'd have to start all over from the beginning.  When I got back home I decided to order a second batch of tickets.  The website now puts you into a virtual waiting line and beeps when you are in.  The message flashing was pretty scary "This could take up to 7 hours".  But five minutes later, the message was saying "This could take up to 4.5 hours".  In the end it took 33 minutes, and I had tickets to three more films.

I'm really excited about the 12 movies in total that I'll be seeing. Many are literary adaptions. I snagged tickets to Michael Winterbottom's Trishna, a retelling of Tess and the D'Urbervilles, starring Frieda Pinto; Terrence Davies' adaptation of Terence Rattigan's play The Deep Blue Sea, (pictured above) starring Rachel Weisz and one of my favourite UK actors, Simon Russell Beale; Bonsái, directed by Cristián Jiménez, based on the novella by Alejandro Zambra (part of Melville House's Art of the Contemporary Novella series), billed as "a romantic ode to love and literature"; and Andrea Arnold's adapation of Wuthering Heights.  I loved her previous film Fish Tank - could she be the one to finally film this literary masterpiece properly?  Below is a still from the film; I'm getting goosebumps already.

I'll also be seeing The Artist, directed by Michel Hazanavicius, a film about a silent era star trying to make it in the talkies.  This film got great buzz at Cannes.  And Like Crazy, the winner of the Grand Jury Best Picture Award at the Sundance Film Festival, about a long-distance romance (which I'll be seeing with my own long-distance partner who will be in town that week - hooray - so it had better end well!).  For me, TIFF just wouldn't be complete unless I saw a film with Kristin Scott Thomas in it and so I was really thrilled to get a ticket to her latest - The Woman in the Fifth. Ethan Hawke and Paris co-star. 

I can't believe that any movie starring Hugh Laurie and Catherine Keener can be bad, particularly if it's a comedy, so I'm looking forward to The Oranges, directed by Julian Farino.  Ditto for Emily Blunt who's latest movie is Your Sister's Sister, directed by Lynn Shelton.  The political thriller Page Eight, directed and written by David Hare and starring Bill Nighy, Ralph Fiennes, Judy Davis and Rachel Weisz looks terrific. I have one animated film on my roster - an intriguing Czech movie called Alois Nebel, directed by Tomáš Lunák. Set during the Cold War, it's about a train dispatcher and apparently quite a homage to the movie Closely Watched Trains which I would easily put into my top ten list of movies set in train stations.

And my final film is by Canadian director Ingrid Veninger and it's called i am a good person/ i am a bad person. It's a drama about a mother and daughter's relationship falling apart as they travel to a film festival.

So I'll be seeing a little bit of everything. And this is the great thing about TIFF - real fans, who don't have corporate or film industry contacts, really can participate and see lots of great films. It just takes a bit of patience.  And the best parts of the whole experience are the conversations you have in line with other film buffs. The fun starts a week from today.  Can't wait.

My New Literary Crush: Michael Innes. . .

Michael Innes, where have you been all my life?

Well actually you've been lurking in the dark corners of my bookcases - part of a neglected group that was hidden behind another layer on my doublestacked shelves. Fortunately, (or desperately), I've had to cull my overflowing shelves lately and so discovered a few of his novels.  I can't remember when or where I bought them, but I must have read a glowing review somewhere.  And I'm delighted to have found such a treasure among my many unread books.

I love mysteries with a sense of humour and if it's of the academic or bibliophilic type, even better.  Which is why fiction written by authors who were also English professors (as John Innes Mackintosh Stewart, aka Michael Innes, was) are often so deliciously witty.  The New Sonia Wayward had me at the first mention of our protagonist's wonderfully silly and yet appropiate name - Colonel Ffolliot Petticate.  Folly and pettiness are certainly key themes that permeate this comedy of suspense.

In the opening paragraph, Sonia Wayward - Petticate's wife - has just died of natural causes while the couple was sailing in the English Channel. Something of their married life can be gleaned by what Petticate does next. After a careful consideration of how many of the suddenly extra pork chops now available for dinner he should eat, he takes his wife's clothes off, puts on her bathing suit and calmly tips her body overboard. When Petticate returns home to the small English village of Snigg's Green, he lies to his neighbours, telling them his wife is just on an extended trip and can't be contacted.  Sonia was a successful writer of romances and the main breadwinner.  She left an unfinished manuscript which Petticate, worried his income and way of life are about to disappear, tries to finish.  He finds he quite enjoys the writing and believes in his talent. But his nerves are being stretched to the limit;  he is under constant pressure from the police, Sonia's editor, and a famous sculptor to produce his wife, not to mention the unsettling presence of his two sinister servants who simply will not leave the house, even after being fired.

There are certainly shades of The Talented Mr. Ripley (published five years earlier), in The New Sonia Wayward.  Petticate shares Tom Ripley's growing ego, his paranoia, and even at times his touching vulnerability.  But Innes has a far more comic touch and the predicaments that Petticate finds himself in as a result of his lies and deceptions are very funny indeed, especially the last and most fitting one.

I'm hooked.  I have two other Innes books to read - another standalone novel, From London Far, and Hamlet, Revenge!, one of his Inspector Appleby mysteries.  If they prove to be as equally enjoyable, then this is going to be a very long affair.  Innes was quite prolific and the House of Stratus editions are very handsome indeed.

Art of the Novella Challenge: The DUELS - Chekhov vrs von Kleist

My next five novella reads will be the five "Duels" in which I'll pit one work against another and see which emerges victoriously as the last novella standing. 

First up is Anton Chekhov's Duel, translated by Margarita Shalina and first published in 1891. At one end of the field, we have Ivan Laevsky, a bored civil servant living in the Caucasus with Nadya, a married woman who has deserted her husband to run away with him. His days consist of gambling, borrowing money, and spending time moaning to his good friend Doctor Samoylenko about how he has fallen out of love and is desperate to leave the town and start over - alone. Nadya, also suffering from a restless malaise and romantic disappointment, begins flirting with the son of a shop owner she owes money to, and more dangerously, embarks on an unsatisfying affair with Kirlin, the town's chief of police. Other characters populating this drama are Von Koren, a zoologist and tenant of the doctor, who has read his Darwin a little too closely and thinks loafers such as Laevsky should be destroyed; Maria Kostantinova, a well-meaning hostess who nevertheless criticizes Nadya for her lifestyle in a tirade of entertaining and blunt language; and one of my favourite characters, the Deacon, a happy go-lucky religious man who wouldn't be caught publicly attending a duel, but thankfully, just can't stay away. There's despair and desperation, lies and lethargy and plenty of discussion about morality and mortality.

I'm hoping that one of the joys of reading these five duelling novellas will be in the suspense of either not knowing which characters will end up as opponents, how it will come about, or for those situations in which the participants are obvious, being surprised by the outcome.  Chekhov delivers deliciously on all counts, and I was very absorbed and engaged in this story.

Heinrich von Kleist's Duel, translated by Annie Janusch, was first published in 1810 but is set in the fourteenth century, and it took me back to undergrad days reading Chrétien de Troyes romances - at least in theme and plot if not in style. A Duke is murdered and suspicion falls on his half-brother, Count Jakob Rotbart. However he has a tight alibi; he spent the night with the beautiful and widowed Lady Littegarde who he had been courting unsuccessfully. He produces material proof and despite her protests of innocence, Littegarde's brothers denounce her and throw her out of their castle. She seeks the help of Sir Fredrich von Trota, one of her longest and ardent suitors, who promptly challenges Rotbart to a duel, or "trial by ordeal", wherein the outcome, decided by God, will be accepted as the indubitable truth. Only things don't go quite as planned.  This is a short novella so I won't reveal anymore, but it was a good fairytale adventure coupled with some ambiguous moral and religious questioning.  I enjoyed the fast paced plot and the melodrama of it all:

The battle now oscillated between the two fighters like two storm fronts swirling around each other - hurling and deflecting lightning bolts, towering above and rearing below the crack of heavy thunder.

So two very different types of duels, but for character development, atmosphere and the pure beauty of the prose, I have to go with the Chekhov.  Plus von Kleist loses points for always making sure Littegard had a "half-bared breast" at her moments of crisis and (while not the fault of von Kleist), there is a major mistake on the jacket flap copy (which is rare for Melville).

The victor for this joust is Chekhov!

Thanks Jack. . .

Here's the CN Tower all lit up in orange last night in tribute to Jack Layton.  I listened to his state funeral on the radio and was very moved.  From Stephen Lewis's powerful and touching eulogy calling Layton's letter to Canadians a "manifesto for social democracy" (which caused a huge round of extended applause and a standing ovation that even Stephen Harper had to participate in), to Steven Page singing Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah", to Lorraine Segato's rousing "Rise Up", it was a very beautiful and fitting tribute. As were all the amazing messages chalked on the sidewalks, up the sides of the ramps and on all conceivable surfaces in front of City Hall.

I spent part of this weekend just walking around this great city feeling very grateful to live here.  Lots of people were wearing bits of orange in remembrance of Jack.  I don't actually have any orange clothing but I did have a ball of orange wool, so having already started the beekeeper's quilt, I decided to just knit orange hexagons while listening to the funeral.  It is a great, happy, hopeful and optimistic colour.