The Great Oxymoron

I knew at some point I would have to bring up this topic, but was somewhat dreading wading into the troubled waters of the creative non-fiction debate.  Firstly, I don't know if I am adequately able to define the vague oxymoron that is creative non-fiction in an academic fashion.  So this is going to be a conversation about creative non-fiction as I see it.  


From the beginning, I will give you the working definition that I use to describe it.  Everyone has at least one friend who is a great storyteller, but seems to embellish the events to the point of slight absurdity.  This is how I identify creative non-fiction.  There may be an element of truth to the tale, and the details might be fudged to make for a more engaging experience for the listener or reader.  Another point worth stating is that perhaps the limits of memory force some authors to fill in the blanks.  Marina Nemat admits in her book Prisoner of Tehran that she is not capable of remembering all that happened to her during her stay in prison.  As a result of her experience, including torture and rape at the hands of her captors, her memory of that period of her life is imperfect. Due to this confession within the pages of her memoir and my compassion for her situation, I tend to be more forgiving of any possible untruthful elements of her personal narrative.  


To my mind the debate comes own to a question of truth in advertising.  I think that the literary world (and Oprah) rightly came down on James Frey, author of A Million Little Pieces, who fabricated a large portion of his book which was marketed as a non-fiction.  His readers felt personally deceived when it surfaced that his story was largely untrue.  Rather than possible memory loss due to a traumatic situation, he knowingly lied about the events documented in his so-called memoir.  If he had marketed the book as a fictional book inspired by true incidents of his life, than that is a completely different animal.  When people pull a book from the shelves of the non-fiction shelf, there is an unspoken trust that the book contains facts or the facts as they are perceived by the author.  What Frey did was a violation of that trust.


Another aspect of this issue of creative non-fiction is that of books that are marketed as fiction which are largely autobiographical.  Authors will often draw upon personal experience for their writing material and some arguably delve a little too deeply.  Though he is one of the greats of Canadian literature and a personal favourite of mine,  Mordecai Richler seemingly borrowed a lot from his own life when creating his protagonists.  As Jewish men in Montreal, they shared many of his life experiences and even his personality traits.  Should these novels be considered creative non-fiction?  I am not sure, and discussing these questions of categorization are perhaps a silly game for people like me that enjoy such debates.  Some would argue that the labels no longer hold the same relevance as they once did, especially where memoirs are concerned. Others would say that the distinctions do still matter, and they want to know if they are consuming the truth or the product of the author's imagination.  My primary concern is always the entertainment value of what I read, but these issues do inform if I pick up a book in the first place and they are worth thinking about when making conscious choices about what one reads.

Canada Reads: Oh What a Year

Every year I tune in to CBC's annual CanLit contest, Canada Reads just for the pure entertainment of listening to Canada's version of celebrities debate the merits of five books. For the uninitiated, I will give you a quick rundown of what Canada Reads is.  This is an annual contest put on by CBC Radio in which five celebrities champion books which are in turn voted off in the spirit of Survivor. Over the years, this competition has become a large factor in the Canadian publishing industry, with last year's winner, Terry Fallis, seeing a jump in sales of 700%.  Normally it is strictly a battle between fiction books, but this year was the first time that only non-fiction books were up for the crown. 


I think that the addition this year of non-fiction books brought a different level of discourse to the debate.  Particularly there was a war of words across the table and in the media, the focus of which was Anne-France Goldwater.  Her book, The Tiger by John Vaillant, was being pilloried by the other debaters for poor characterization and she launched an attack on the other books that was both scathing and ignorant all at once.  She accused Marina Nemat, the author of Prisoner of Tehran, of lying about the events which she claims happened during her incarceration in Iran.  Another author which drew Goldwater's ire was Carmen Aguirre, who she dubbed a "terrorist".  I found Goldwater generally off-putting in her quest to mix things up, and when she refrained from badmouthing the authors of her competitors' books, I found her long-winded rants more annoying than anything. 


Thankfully the quality of the debate outshone some of the more, and I was pleasantly surprised at how invested the other panelists became in the outcome.  Each of them brought a special perspective to the panel and were very diplomatic in the face of Goldwater's extremist notions and insulting comments.  This debate did become more personal due to the fact that four out of the five books were memoirs and the authors themselves drew most of the attention.  As I pointed out earlier, Canada Reads is a force in the publishing industry, and as such it provides a good platform for any author to increase their audience and sales.  The stakes are high for everyone involved, and that, coupled with the emotional nature of memoirs, made for a more lively discussion.  There were a number of issues brought up which shape our current landscape, and hopefully will propel more people to read the books discussed.  


As usual, the moderator, Gian Ghomeshi, managed to objectively referee the participants and elevate the conversation.  I really enjoyed this season and feel that it really allowed for some interesting questions to be posed through the works presented.  A dark part of me relishes the controversy that this installment has caused, but another, more dominant portion of my mind will look forward to next year when the biggest topic is whether or not the protagonist's husband is a jerk or the narrative plodding.  Those were the days.

The Rewards of Patience

After reading the two books about the Missing Women from Vancouver's Downtown Eastside, I needed a break from darker subject matter and Life Mask by Emma Donoghue presented itself as a good choice.  Seemingly this period drama would be an excellent relief.  


The story revolves around three main characters whose lives and reputations become intertwined.  Eliza Farren is a successful comedic actress who rose up the ranks and now desires to make strategic friendships in High Society (or the Beau Monde).  Her connection with one of the highest ranking peers in the country, the Earl of Derby, will allow her to enter the most fashionable drawing rooms in the city.  This alliance with such a powerful man is the subject of much speculation, and though Derby is clearly in love with the actress, her feelings for the married aristocrat are unclear.  Derby pledges that when his unfaithful invalid wife passes away, he will propose marriage, but until such time, Eliza won't entertain the idea of becoming his mistress.  At the beginning of the novel, their strictly platonic romance had gone on for six years, and no one in their social circles seems to understand it.  


Once Eliza and Derby's situation is outlined, Anne Damer is introduced to the reader.  She is a sculptress who was widowed over a decade previously when her scoundrel of a husband committed suicide.  Due to her rank and financial circumstances, she is able to live alone in fashionable Mayfair and pursue her sculpture without answering to a spouse.  She and Derby have a longstanding friendship and share political sensibilities, and a friendship blossoms between her and Eliza.  Anne's love of independence makes her a lightning rod for controversy, and her tendency to be in the forefront of idle gossip often causes friction in her friendship with the actress.  When rumours surface that there is a secret romance going on between Anne and Eliza, Eliza breaks off their relationship and retreats into hiding.  


Now that I've set up the plot,  will tell you what I really think of this book.  I had a very hard time reading it at first, and often was on the brink of giving up, but somehow managed to persevere.  I had difficulties both with the pace of the plot and the characters themselves.  My issues with Eliza were numerous.  I felt that she was grasping, self-important, and superficial and could not understand her relationship with Derby.  She seemed to string him along without giving him any promises and not settling for the perfectly acceptable status of mistress.  Though she claims that she does not want to suffer from the same fates of other actresses who become romantically involved with aristocrats, one gets the impression that this is snobbishness rather than self-preservation.  The manner in which she ceases her friendship with Anne, also reinforces the idea that she is nothing more than a cold fish.  Eliza does become more likable towards the end of the book, but my prejudice against her at that point was firmly in place.  


In addition to my loathing of Eliza, I didn't enjoy the pacing of the book either.  I don't possess a large amount of patience, and I was on the verge of giving up on it a few times.  My interest in plot only started to peak after the 350 page mark, which is a long time to read in the hopes that the plot will take off.  But, take off it did, and I read the remaining pages very quickly. Before the story sped up, I barely managed to stay engaged and I attribute this mostly to the overwhelming amount of details about the political situation in England.  The references to the French Revolution were interesting, but the internal struggles of the Whig Party failed to captivate me.  I felt the book was bogged down by the scenes between Derby and his Whig contemporaries, and though the main characters were all involved in Party matters, I found myself not caring about the political fate of the Whigs.  


Though I won't reveal the plot lines that did allow me to continue to read, there is an incident which puts events into motion, and thus a story happens.  This series of events is engaging, I just find myself resenting the amount of time that it took to get there.

E-Books and the Public Library

I was having my morning bowl of cereal when I heard an interesting interview on the local radio station.  Two representatives from the Greater Victoria Public Library were talking about their e-books program which enables patrons to check out e-books online.  Rather than going to your local branch and combing through the shelves, provided they have a library card, one can borrow an e-book instead.  The reason why these two women were being interviewed on morning talk radio is that two major publishers (who remained nameless) will no longer sell e-books to the public library.  Their rationale is that people will be disinclined to buy e-books or their traditional paper counterparts if the library is allowing them to download them for free.  Also, e-books don't suffer from the same rate of deterioration that hard copies do and publishers make their money when libraries have to replace popular titles.  


In the interest of full disclosure, I will reveal that at this point in time I'm not an e-books fan.  I don't own an e-reader and the very thought of staring at a screen for hours does not fill me with enthusiasm.  My sister and a coworker of mine have persuaded me that they are not all bad, providing book lovers with the enjoyment of reading their favourite titles without having to commit to the shelf space.  Though it is not my preferred medium, I recognize that this technology and its availability probably attract people to reading who would not otherwise pick up a book.  Ever since they introduced e-books to their catalogue, the library has seen an increase in traffic of 800%; a number which speaks for itself.  Another point worth noting is that e-books are checked out in the same way as their paper equivalents, only one patron can borrow each one at a time.  So, like popular library books, if it's taken out by someone else, you will have to wait your turn or buy it.  


I know that I will buy a book simply because I know that the book I want to read will be on the wait-list until I'm old and gray. E-books shouldn't be any different in that respect.  Libraries help out the publishing industry in ways that aren't as apparent to the superficial observer.  Certainly there are people who exclusively borrow from the library simply because the cost of books outweighs the joy of owning them.  Then there are other people who take books out of the library in order to give them a sort of test drive.  Without fully committing to buying that cookbook, or novel by an unknown author, one can give them a try and see what happens.  My mother is notorious for taking out knitting books from the library, reading them, and eventually buying a copy for herself at the local book store.  Once a person is exposed to an author that they enjoy, they are more likely to purchase their work.  


Though I don't think that you'll catch me with a Kindle anytime in the near future, I do applaud how e-books are converting more people into readers and regular library patrons.  I also think that libraries that adapt to our changing culture and offer new services, should be supported by the publishing industry as they are more interdependent than one would think.   

Viking!: My Past in the Discard Bin

At work the other day, one of my co-workers revealed that she was overtired because she was up late reading a book in her Kindle.  In hushed tones and after much prying she confessed that the Twilight saga was to blame for her nocturnal lifestyle.  She then went on to say how she felt less than intelligent because she liked escaping to that world of romance and suspense.  I find that often because of the fact that I am a book blogger and have an English background, people think that I am judging their book selections, that they somehow reflect their intellectual abilities.  


I don't view people's taste in books as a way of determining whether or not they are smart. People choose what they read with different goals in mind, and so it is difficult from the outside to judge other people's preferences.  I will confess that while I was in university the was a long period where most of the books that I read for fun were romance novels. Interspersed with Dickens, Joyce and Atwood, I liked nothing more than to cuddle up with the usual cast of heroes and heroines as they cultivated their improbable romances.  The stress of school, living at home with my mother and my lacklustre love life all meant that escapism was my primary motive for reading.  I kid you not, my favourite book was Viking! by Connie Mason, a tale of a viking who enslaves a woman only to find that she captures his heart.  


When things are going well for me personally, I tend to choose to read books with darker subject matter, because I can spend large swaths of time immersed in gritty reality and still maintain an optimistic approach. Escapism and realism are not types of literature that require ranking, because both have their benefits to the psyche.  After having gone through my collection this past weekend, I can look back on my time with Viking! fondly, and will probably find myself pulling another romance out and take another journey.  I may not ever go through the library discard cart with the fervour of a dumpster diver in search of the perfect historical story, complete with chiseled hero on the cover.  The smuttier the better.


At least I know that I am not alone in my need for guilty-pleasure reading. Though my mother finds solace in those Chick Lit books which cater to the women-over forty demographic, and my boyfriend loses himself in post-apocalyptic stories, they are the same need for escapism. So I don't judge my co-worker for her Twilight-related insomnia, because next week it could be me yawning.           

On the Farm

Generally I make it a rule not to read two books of similar subject matter back-to-back.  I need to break up my reading so that there is variety and I don't get bored with reading the same genre.  I recently broke that rule after a fortuitous trip to the library.  I have been trying to take Stevie Cameron's recent book On the Farm for some time now and it has always been on hold or on the wait list.  I happened to be in the library and I thought that I would look for it, holding out little hope that it would be available.  Happily it was on the shelves and I got my grubby paws on it.   

Back to my original point about not reading two books consecutively which revolve around the same topics.  On the Farm and Missing Sarah both chronicle the story of the missing women of Vancouver's Downtown Eastside, albeit from totally different perspectives.  Missing Sarah is a personal narrative about Sarah de Vries, a prostitute who vanishes and whose DNA is later recovered from the Pickton Farm.  On the Farm is the overall story of the missing women, Robert Pickton, and the police investigation.  Cameron focuses on the narrative of the events, and profiles key players along the way.  This book is particularly relevant at this juncture in time, because of the Public Inquiry into the Vancouver Police Department`s handling (or mishandling) of the case.  

There were a number of points during the investigation that the VPD went wrong, most of which can be detected with common sense and hindsight.  The part of the investigation, which, in my opinion, was handled incorrectly was the hoops that the families of the missing women had to jump through in order to declare that their loved ones were Missing Persons.  By virtue of their lifestyles, many family members were given the brush off when they went to the VPD to tell them that someone had gone missing.  Though they had personal demons, these women could be counted on to regularly call their families, attend doctor`s appointments, and collect their welfare cheques.  Also, due to the amount of women vanishing, other members of the Downtown Eastside community were diligent about keeping tabs on one another`s whereabouts.  Still, families were told to wait, sometimes for months, to see if their family member would suddenly turn up.  After this waiting period, any leads as to where the person might be would have long gone cold.  Understandably, families grew frustrated with the double standard with which missing prostitutes were treated by the police department, and the subsequent inaction on their case files.  

The other frustration which appears in this book, is the inability of the VPD to act when Pickton had been one of the main suspects for years.  Kim Rossmo, a geographic profiler brought in to work on the case, pointed out specific traits that Pickton possessed, and he was totally ignored at that time.  Hindsight being what it is, there are a lot of people who regret not investigating Pickton more thoroughly earlier.  What angers me is that an officer did request a warrant to search the farm three years prior to Pickton`s arrest, but a judge turned him down due to lack of evidence.  Thus, from the standpoint of someone outside the law enforcement profession, it is difficult to not be angry while reading this book.

Besides the anger at those who did not aid the families of the missing women, one feels a lot of revulsion as well.  Cameron does not spare any of the details of the forensic findings in her book, and I will warn you that there are a lot of gruesome passages.  There were times when I needed to take a break because the horror of what was done to these women was just too much for me.  I don`t think that I am remiss in saying that if you feel you could get through those sections, you should reconsider reading this book.  Despite my declaimer, I do think that this is an important book to read for those interested in the case.  If you could get through the gory portions of the narrative, you would find this book to be a well-written account of the investigation.  It is difficult to communicate such a complex story, but Cameron manages to do so with thorough research and compelling writing.

Missing Sarah

To begin this blog, I would like to make a confession.  I generally do not like watching movies or reading books where the ending is well-known.  Despite its romantic nature and poetic tragedy, Romeo and Juliet is probably my least favourite Shakespearean play, for just this reason.  With this in mind, I began to read Missing Sarah by Maggie de Vries.  

The book begins with the revelation that the DNA of Maggie's adopted sister, was found on Robert Pickton's farm in Port Coquitlam, BC.  Along with many other sex workers from Vancouver's Downtown Eastside, Sarah de Vries disappeared suddenly in 1998 while working her usual corner.  Her absence was noticed quickly by her loved ones and the tight-knit community of drug addicts and prostitutes that she associated with, but the police were slow to act.  It was only when her friend Wayne went to the media that any interest was shown by the Vancouver Police Department, and by then all the leads had run cold.  Due to the inaction of the police, the families of the missing women banded together to try and gain any answers about the state of the investigation.  Local media also played a part in pressuring the force to pay attention to the increasing number of women going missing.  

Missing Sarah depicts this fight for justice and is a compelling story of a grieving relative. She tells of how her family is dealing with the information that they will never be able to bury Sarah, nor can they live in the comfort that her last moments were peaceful. One of the more chilling moments is how someone approached Sarah's children and asked them if their mother was put in a wood chipper.  This book was written prior to Robert Pickton's trial and one cannot imagine how the publicity surrounding it would have negatively affected them.  

Though Sarah's horrific, unknown fate is at the centre of the book, her identity and personality really shine through the grisly narrative.  She wrote poetry and drew in a journal that was among her most treasured possessions.  In it she describes her life as an addict and a prostitute and provides a lot of insight into her life.  Maggie talks about how she would read her sister's letters and journal and every time she would hope that her sister's fate would turn out differently.  I, as a reader, had a similar sensation and constantly wanted to forget that she is no longer with us.  Though I don't have much in common with Sarah (except that we both like to write), I think any woman is a few bad choices away from ending up living the same lifestyle as she did.  Many people like to brush prostitutes aside as a small, fringe element of society, but de Vries allows us to see a different side of the story.