City of My Youth

I moved to Toronto on March 4, 2002. I moved to take a barely paid full-time job, and only-slightly-better-paid evenings and weekends job, as well as to go to school the nights I wasn't working. I had two friends in town, an apartment where you could see the fridge from the bed, a fear of the subway system (steel wheels--so noisy!) and two goldfish named Demetrius and Lysander.

The first thing I did when I moved was go to the Spadina Road library (shout out!) and get a UTPL card. I did this yes, partially because of my love of literature but mainly because I had neither an internet connection nor a phonebook, and I needed to find a locksmith to install the lock I had bought and installed in Montreal after the Terrible Millennial Break-In, then had de-installed at great expense when I moved.

I eventually got Jason from Spadina Security. I think locksmiths, like bartenders and nurses, often deal with people who are freaking out or about to do so, and they have to have the people skills to match their technical skills. Jason was extremely nice and comforting about my move to Toronto (he told me I had an excellent lock!) Spadina Security was the first Toronto address I added to my book after I moved, and probably the nicest conversation I had that day.

You'd think that I would have been using all my scant free time to sleep, but as I remember it now, with little in the way of friends and money to entertain me, it stretched out. I wasn't writing much in those days, and even then my tv was only sort of functional. My principal hobby was free-trial periods at gyms. It was a form of entertainment (expecially since I found that Toronto gyms often had tvs you could watch) as well as fitness, plus the trainers who showed you around were usually really friendly. Policies were looser in those days, and I got in at least a couple workouts at almost every gym in the downtown core and some beyond, including one in Rosedale that had an in-house kitten.

I walked everywhere, continuing to be both afraid of the TTC and cheap about the $2.50 fare (ah, those were the days!) "It's amazing what you can accomplish when you time is of no value," I told a work superior in the elevator one day, when he opined that me walking 30 blocks to a store I wanted to try was not an excellent plan. There was little he could say to that, I suppose.

I went to so many libraries to do my homework, so many flowershops just to sniff things, I knew the cost of every brand of everything in the supermarket. My brother (one of the two TO friends) snuck me into his film classes to watch movies about prison breaks. Someone told me not to walk through any parks alone at night and I was SO happy when I finally made a friend in one of my night classes so that together we could cut through Queen's Park on the way home. I was distraught (though he was more so) when he had to drop the class because misdirected arsonists had burnt down his house. I don't know what ever happened to him--I hope he's ok. But then I made another friend and walked home with her.

I finally got a real job, one that paid decently and was only 8 hours a day. It was a shocking amount of free time, and a shocking amount of money (if I told you, you would laugh in pity). I remember buying a pair of pretty ballet flats, utterly flimsy, made out of cardboard and vinyl, for $15, and being thrilled that, a) I could afford to waste money on something I didn't need, and b) that I no longer needed to stand for hours at a time (ah retail) so it didn't even matter that the shoes were cheap.

As it turns out, those cardboard shoes were wonderful and I had them for 6 years. And I learned to take the TTC to get to my new job, and then to take the TTC efficiently, and then to love the TTC with all my heart. I got an apartment with two rooms and spent days doing figure-eights between them. I made more Toronto friends! I started having people to borrow books from and bake cookies for and hug when I hadn't seen them in a while. That was, and has never stopped being, amazing.

With my friends and also alone (because I had in fact learned to enjoy my own company) I went everywhere and talked to everyone and petted everyone's dogs. Never forgets:

--that time Jaime, Lara and I went to the Santa Claus parade in a blizzard and got amazing spots in the crowd because of the snow. And the parade was so silly and happy and the kids didn't care about the weather at all. And these sad free-sample distributers gave us tonnes of free tubes of pudding because they just wanted to get rid of them and I wound up with dozens only to discover I don't like sucking pudding from a tube. And when I got home my hands were so numb I couldn't turn my key in the lock for a few minutes.
--that time Penny and I went to see Chad's band play and then Ron Hawkins jumped on the stage and played a song
--the night I was walking on Sunnyside Beach with Jay and then fireworks started
--the big 2004 blackout, when I was not inconvenienced one iota, but everyone was in such good moods, plus I got a day off work
--finally having my scary crazy operation at North York General and being absolutely convinced that I would die under anesthetic just like my parents' kitten...and then I didn't, and I spent that whole spring being thrilled just to get out of bed
--climbing 22 flights of stairs with Mark J. while carrying the Penguin anthology
--the well-dressed corpulent middle-aged man who approached me on the street late one night to say he'd just been to a fashion industry event, and did I want the samples of cosmetics that were in his goodie bag? (yes!)
--when Ben and I were on our way to sushi when we ran into a naked man...and then another...and then we realized it was Pride weekend.
--when Brandon and I were walking down the street during (a different) Pride and I said, "Hey, that women wasn't wearing a shirt." and Brandon hadn't noticed.
--the untoward flirtation Kerry and I discovered at Starbucks
--when Maya made me run around and around at Circle Thai because she was bored sitting at the table (she's three).
--the day Mark and I took the ferry to Ward's Island for Katie's birthday, but we went to the wrong island and had to walk all the way around and then we ran into everyone and had a big delicious picnic on the beach in the freezing cold
--the night I was reading at Strong Words and brought a bunch of friends to hear me, but the Art Bar was flooded so they gave us a different room at the Gladstone, but the room was locked, so my friends and I just stood on the stairs, with me saying, "I really do have a reading tonight, I swear." (eventually someone came and unlocked the room and it was an amazing night)
--the first time I saw Harriet (who is currently a baby) roll over
--when a man who thought he was flirting with told me that the problem with the publishing industry is "too many Jews"

And the crazy thing is that I've already forgotten so much, no doubt--a hundred idle kindnesses at the grocery store and on the bus, birthday cards, snowstorms, fashion faux pas, and free cheese. But that's, I suppose, what real life in a real place is--not having to keep perfect account of every amazing moment because, while they aren't constant, there will be more to come.

I know a lot of my most-loved Toronto memories are not Toronto-centric--they could have happened anywhere, but they didn't. Toronto is where I've lived the last 8 years, and where amazing and banal things have happened to me, and I'm so grateful. Here's to another 8!

RR

Oscar Derby!!

You are playing this year, aren't you? Go over to A Place and enter your picks before you forget. I've even seen some of the movies this year, which makes me more of a shoe-in to win than usual. Go right now! It's fun and it reminds you of the movies you've been meaning to see--what more could you ask for?

RR

Groups and Challenges

In Writer Guy's review of Century as part of Canada Reads Independently, he wonders if he's right in calling CRI a "challenge." I'm sure it's fine to call it whatever one likes, but I much prefer a term I've learned from my bookfriends on GoodReads--a "group read." To me, that implies better what I think these projects intend: to get people agreeing to read something as a group so they can then talk about it. So fun and friendly.

"So why aren't you participating in any of these group reads, RR?" would be a reasonable question to ask, at least lately. It's true--I love book conversations and though I'm not the fastest reader, I'm fast enough to read a book purely for the sake of participating in a conversation. I used to quite often. But I can't quite get committed lately. Maybe it was the demanding, structured reading in grad school that's put me off. Maybe it was a few book-club related incidents--a club-wide insistance on reading "challenging" books that weren't "too easy" or "light"...which ended with me miserably hauling myself through a couple books that no one else liked, or indeed, bothered to read.

I think these sorts of group reads a project like Kerry's, or in fact Canada Reads itself, seems very fun indeed--as warm an invitation to conversation as one could hope for. I love the idea of a group of people focusing their reading so they can share it. All I can say is I really hope to get it together for next year.

Meantime, I'm trying one of the less-structured options of group reads, one where participants don't read the same book but engage in the same kind of reading and then share thoughts on that. One that appeals (because I was already sort of doing it privately) is a retro-reading challenge. Rereading has been a hot topic on The Literary Type lately, and now over at Free-range Reading, Mark suggests the Retro Reading Challenge. Ok, fine, it's got the word "challenge" in it, but it still seems pretty fun and friendly to me:

"So here’s the idea, which I’m calling the Retro Reading Challenge, and I hope you all will play along. The idea is to pick a book that you read and adored years and years ago, then reread it now and write a review of it to capture your impressions. Did you still love it? Did you see flaws (or strengths) that you missed the first time? Did you have an “Oh God, what the hell was I thinking?” moment?"

I might not quite be able to comply with all the rules--the book needs to have been something I read only once, at least 15 years ago--but I *might* have Mostly Harmless only once, in my early teens--it wasn't in the giant omnibus that I owned as a kid, since it didn't come out until 1992. And it's way darker than the others, so it's conceivable it wasn't on my reread list. And it fits in nicely with my don't judge Eoin Kolfer too harshly project, which has been going on since fall (I'm halfway through *So Long and Thanks for All the Fish* right now, if you're curious) and will end when I read *And Another Thing* and try not to hate it for not being written by Douglas Adams.

SO! Rambling aborted, I will read *Mostly Harmless* and review it as part of the Retro Reading project. Yes. This is my plan. Baby steps.

RR

Talking Stories

Last night at dinner, my friend Scott explained to someone, "Becky writes short stories--short stories are to the point, but you don't always know what the point *is*." Such a good summation of the strengths and weaknesses of stories.

This morning I read Andrew Hood saying in Canadian Notes and Queries that "What the short story can do better than any form is romance the effects of life without having to belabour the causes." He went on to quote Clark Blaise's comment that, "[short story writers] are not in the business of establishing any of the whys... The story traces what lingers after the whirlwind, after the fracture. Or before it. We're not in the business of establishing the reasons...why things happen. They've already happened."

Today is, I feel, a good day for stories!
RR

Lit Bits

1) JD Salinger, literary hero of many youths (including this one) has died. I haven't read a lot of the coverage, but I have seen a few references to the fellow as the author of "just one novel," and while I loved The Catcher in the Rye as much as anyone (so much!), I am a bit miffed for Franny and Zooey and Nine Stories (one of my lifetime fave short-story collections), and even Raise High the Roofbeams, Carpenters and Seymour: an Intorduction, the first half of which I did truly enjoy (and the second...oh dear).

But I can't feel quite as sad as I think I ought to about the passing of such a great author. Of course, I didn't know him personally (though my cousin did meet him once in the library at Dartmouth, a fact I always try to seem unimpressed about, and fail). It's more that I haven't been reading straight along with him--he stopped publishing decades ago, and I haven't read any Salinger for the first time since my teens. Unlike, say, Mr. Updike, we weren't moving along together.

There is a bit of excitement going around that now all his output for the last many years will be revealed and published. I'm not sure that would happen, and anyway, though I greatly hope for something that can stun me like For Esme, with Love and Squalor, I fear a reprise of Hapworth 16, 1924, the last of his published work (in the New Yorker in 1965--that same cousin photocopied an old library copy). I hate that story, though in googling it just now I found some people like. Who knew? It is deeply boring to me. So I am worried that now lots of books will come out by Salinger and I will read them and not like them and be disappointed.

2) From a literary end to a literary beginning: I went with blogger and friend Kerry Clare and her daughter Harriet to Mables Fables in celebration of Family Literacy Week (which is, as it turns out, is not real--it is only Family Literacy Day except on Kerry's blog. But I am still going to most my family-literacy post today or possibly tomorrow, in solidariy!

*Anyway,* our fieldtrip was wonderful, prefaced by cake and punctuated by the stroller blowing down the sidewalk past the store window. Even if you aren't particularly interested in seeing photos of a bookstore (er, but why *not*?) you should click on Kerry's link to see pictures of Harriet, a very lovely baby with great, if over-literal, taste in books!

RR

Mark Purvis, 1975-2009

When I was one, my family moved into a new house. The family moving out had lost their little boy to a car when he ran into the road. He was two.

When I was in grade five, a grade-six boy in my school died in what was either a bizarre accident or a suicide.

Someone in my highschool committed suicide when I was in grade 11, and we made a memorial page in the yearbook though I don't think many people actually knew the deceased--I don't even know what grade he was in--which might have been part of the problem.

About four years back, a boy who had been close to my family died under circumstances I never fully understood. He was two years younger than me.

Twice in past few years, I have come across "in memoriams" in my university alumni magazine of names I recognize--one a friend of friends, one a student politician. Both died in accidents in the mountains, years and continents apart.

Those above are, until now, all the people I know in my own age group who have died.

I met Mark Purvis when we were both involved in the short-lived Free Biscuit Theatre project (apparently no web-legacy remains) in 2007-2008. I joined despite not being an actor or theatre person because I thought writing words for someone to say as opposed to read would teach my something.

It did, but I also get pressed to perform, to serve shooters at a fundraiser, to do movement exercises and generally go way outside my comfort zone. I also got the great pleasure of shutting up and listening in presence of people who were educated and passionate about something I had only ever seen from the outside.

Mark was foremost in that regard--a dedicated actor who wasn't serious about much else. He had endless energy to try *anything* anyone suggested--I never saw him perform as a clown, but he loved that as much as the "serious" parts I did see him in. He played Mathias in the play that's linked there, *The Bells*, a massive and demanding and very bizarre role he did for Free Biscuit. He was wall-to-wall amazing and the production brought tremendous accolades (to be fair, all the Biscuits were outstanding, but Mark had the starring role).

Mark also had a fairly strong math and spreadsheet ability, gained in various dayjobs. He volunteered to use his not-much-loved gifts to do the Free Biscuit bookkeeping. He never complained about the extra work, and I'm pretty sure he used his control of our funds to make sure he was never paid at all for his performance in *The Bells*.

I didn't really know Mark all that much--we hung out every few weeks for a year--but I always felt really amazed at how seriously he took me, and how much he wanted to help with my sad attempts at at performance. Once, he and his girlfriend took an entire evening to go through my 10-minute monologue over and over again with me until I no longer (quite) wanted to die at the thought of doing it in front of an audience, and I know they listened seriously and intently every single time.

Once, a bunch of us went out to the suburbs to see Mark perform in an outdoor Shakespearian festival. When the performance got rained out, we repaired to Crabby Joe's in a not-ironic-enough urban gesture, where Mark regaled us with crazy, hilarious, filthy stories. I was so proud when we realized the couple at the next table had stopped speaking to each other entirely, the better to overhear.

Once, Mark and his girlfriend had a miniperformance at their place because they had built a *stage* in their living room (with lights!) Mark comforted me about my terror of performing by telling me the story of the time he met William Shatner.

This is a memorial to a person I didn't know well--perhaps not even a friend but rather one of those wonderful acquaintances that make life joyful. I feel lucky to have met him, and shocked that he passed away. It is terrifying to me that someone could be my own age and no longer alive--I'm not nearly ready.

Of course, no one is ever ready. All we can do, I think, is as Mark did: everything we can for everyone we meet in the moment that we are.

RR

Rose-coloured and Mark review Milk Coffee Pocky

Back in the summer when Scott first loaned me his tape-recorder, I field-tested it by doing a joint-review of Twix Java with novelist Mark Sampson. We enjoyed ourselves and the candy, and that particular post was oddly popular according to my site meter. So I thought it would be fitting that before I give Scott back his recorder in January (good news, Scott...), we close out this tape-recording epoch with another coffee-confection review verbatim conversation transcript. I bring you me, Mark, and Milk Coffee Pocky (purchased at T&T West Edmonton Mall.

RR: This is the second review of a coffee-chocolate confectionary product by myself and novelist Mark Sampson. Hello, Mark.

MS: Hello.

RR: Thanks for doing this with me.

MS: Oh, it's great to be back.

RR: Hold this.

MS: Certainly.

RR: Ok...mic me, not the candy.

MS: Hello, candy!

RR: So this is...Pocky, Milk Coffee...most of the rest of the label is in Japanese. There's a picture of a cow--

MS: Licking his lips.

RR: And "+Ca" which is...calcium?

MS: Probably calcium, yes.

RR: And there 170 calories per 33 gram serving and...nobody cares about this. Ok. [crinkling noise, male laughter] Anything to add?

MS: No, I think you've pretty much covered it.

RR: Inside the box is a little foil bag with no English on it. A pocky is--would you like to describe a Pocky?

MS: Certainly. So it's basically a stick of cookie that has been dipped in milk chocolate. Or in this case, I guess, coffee chocolate. Or some kind of coffee related milk product. Right?

RR: Exactly right. We are now going to each try a Pocky...stick.

MS: All right.

[chewing sounds]

RR: This tastes a shocking amount like coffee with milk and sugar.

MS: Pretty much, yeah.

RR: And like a little bit of biscuit.

MS: It's like someone dropped a cookie in your coffee.

RR: But fished it out really fast, because it's still crispy.

MS: Exactly.

[chewing]

RR: There's not a lot of chocolate going on, actually.

MS: No, I don't--

RR: Maybe it's not really chocolate.

MS: I don't think there really any chocolate involved here. I think it's just coffee-flavoured...milk...

RR: Goo.

MS: Yeah. That the cookie has been dipped in.

RR: This is not--I mean, I haven't tried all the Pocky flavours, but I've tried a number--this is not my favourite...There's nothing wrong with it.

[chewing]

RR: It's just kinda--

MS: This is a popular snack though in Asia. When I was living in Korea, over there it's called Pepero and it has its own holiday, November 11--

RR: Ha!

MS: --because it looks like the sticks, the 1 1 1 1.

RR: But nothing to do with the war?

MS: Not at all. It's all about candy. But a very popular snack over there, but it's pure chocolate on top, not any of this coffee business.

RR: Yeah, chocolate or the more elaborate chocolate, like two layers of chocolate and one is white. I forget what that one is called but that kind of Pocky is really my favourite.

MS: Yeah, this one is I would have to say a bit disappointing by comparison. I kind of want that chocolaty explosion.

RR: Or at least more of the sugary goodness...as opposed to--this is quite substantially pretzel. Like the stick is a pretzel without salt, which is really not a bit draw for me...it's more of just a method of getting to the candy.

MS: Right. Basically it's holding the candy for you.

RR: Exactly--it's very tidy because you don't have to have your fingers on the melty part. So I mean, Pocky is genius, but this is just not...

MS: It's subpar Pocky.

RR: I mean....this is six. I'd say six. It would pass, but...

MS: Out of ten? Yeah, I would say six. It passes, but...like a C-.

RR: It's inoffensive. If this was exactly what you wanted, I'd say more power to you.

MS: I think this is what weird Japanese children would have. All the regular children would have the milk chocolate Pocky, but then there'd be the outsider who would have this. And probably stand by it.

RR: Oh yeah. And there's also tomato...I think it's tomato Pepero, not Pocky [note: later research reveals that in fact it's Tomato Pretz that I'm talking about]. But, again...you know, I think a fringe member of the popular crowd could have Milk Coffee Pocky, but you'd be alone on the playground with the tomato stuff.

MS: I think so.

RR: I also notice that neither one of us has reached for a second.

MS: No. We haven't.

RR: So I think that is worth noting.

MS: Not to say it's bad, but it just doesn't...knock our socks off.

RR: I'm gonna offer it to some other people--if we don't eat anymore--and see if anyone likes it. [note: this effort was an utter failure, as *no one* would take me up on the offer, which I found odd. It's not *that* strange a flavour--everyone knows what coffee is!!]

MS: You could take a poll.

RR: A Pocky poll!

MS: A Pocky poll.

RR: So. Yes, and thus ends the epoch of audio reviews. Mark may return in some different format in later Rose-coloured Reviews, but I'm giving back the recorder so I'm afraid in terms of transcribed conversations, this is goodbye.

MS: This is goodbye!

RR: Goodbye, Mark!

MS: Goodbye, Rebecca!

This week in review

Of course, this week is not technically over yet, but rather a lot has already happened. I think it was enough to occupy an entire week if it was spread out, and I am rather hoping nothing further will happen until next. Thus, I dare to pre-emptively summarize:

Tuesday: I attended the Writers' Trust Awards. It is a pretty glitzy event, with roaming waiters and lots of excited chat before the ceremony. At the ceremony, the Journey Prize was the first to be awarded, which meant co-presenter Anita Chong and I could get our moment of stress out of the way early and enjoy the show! I had perhaps 200 words to say, and really people just wanted to know who won, but I was very worried about flubbing it, or not even making it to the podium because I had spotted a gap between the top of stairs and the stage where I could easily wedge my foot.

But nothing happened like that, and I was able to present the winner, Yatsuko Thanh, for her story Floating Like the Dead with no trouble. What an honour to do so, and what an incredible story. I was charmed by how sincerely stunned Ms. Thanh seemed, and was really glad I got a chance to meet her. And the other two incredible finalists, Dave Margoshes for "The Wisdom of Solomon" and Daniel Griffin for "The Last Great Works of Alvin Cale." An evening like this one really makes me feel alive to all the wonder and diversity of wonders in CanLit.

I was also happy to see that Annabel Lyon took the fiction prize though I have not read the celebrated book, *The Golden Mean*. But if my intense love of her first book, Oxygen is any indication, I should. And I was pleased to hear that, though Ms. Lyon was also pretty stunned by the win, she remembered to mention in her speech all those smaller literary magazines where she got her start, and to please for no further cuts to arts funding in Canada.

Wednesday: On Wednesday morning I went out to University of Toronto Scarborogh to do a guest lecture in my fellow UofT Creative Writing alumni Daniel Tysdal's short story class. I did, as promised read the end of a story, "Massacre Day." When I told the students that I would read the last three pages of that piece, I had the extraordinary experience of watching a roomful of students pull out copies of my book and prepare to follow along.

But that extraordinariness did not all compare with the level discussion after my reading and (very brief) talk. The students were reading intently and speaking insightfully, not just about my work (although I appreciated that very much) but about everything they laid their eyes and minds on. What a fantastic way to spend a morning.

That evening, was the Biblioasis fall poetry party, featuring Zachariah Wells, Shane Neilson and Robyn Sarah. The non-present presence of a 4th poet was Wayne Clifford, whose work was read by all three of the others to make up for his absense. It was really cool to get three interpretations of one voice.

Also last night, I got to meet London, Ontario, novelist A.J. Somerset who just won the Metcalf-Rooke Award. There's a lot of literary winning going on this week!

Today, is the real American Thanksgiving, I'm pretty sure, so I am wishing you all a happy one of those--I remain as Thankful I was last week, on fake Thanksgiving. Also today, due to a minor incident, I was without tights for a portion of the day, and it was actually warm enough that I didn't mind dreadfully, temperature-wise. The upside of global warming. What was strange is that I felt like a total scandal, bare knees and nothing under my dress but panties, when of course that is how I spent the entire summer. I think winter makes me puritanical.

I also spent part of today talking books with Kerry Clare while I lay on the floor eating scones and playing with her baby daughter. That was, as you might imagine, delightful.

To continued, low-impact delight.
RR

Rose-coloured reviews Kimchi House, Jasper, Alberta

Note: this is review is in conjunction (but not consultation) with a review by my dining companion, AMT. Please see her blog for another perspective on the same meal (I'll edit this to add a link when hers is up).

Right, so the small mountain town of Jasper, Alberta, is beautiful, semi-remote, mildly touristy and not at all the first stop on anyone's Asian cuisine binge. Nevertheless, there is both a Chinese and a Korean restaurant in town, and as my dining companion had had previous good experiences at KimChi House, we decided to go there for our one dinner in Jasper.

I needed little convincing, being a lover of Korean food and inhabitant of a city that is a much more probable destination if one were seeking to (over-)indulge in the stuff.

So the first thing to report is that the kimchi was subpar. I eat a lot of kimchi, the spicy pickled cabbage that is so much of the Korean diet. I can't really be called an expert, as I can't make it (I think it actually takes a village to make kimchi) but I know what I like--lots of sticky bright red chili paste and salty-sweet-spicy flavour. This kimchi was overwhelmed with brine, and had very little chili paste--it was sort of pinkish beige, and very drippy. Also not so spicy, although it was the drippiness that really put me off.

Ok, that's it for the negative--the rest of the food was excellent. I didn't sample AMT's bulgogi because I don't eat beef, but it looked and smelled great. My own dak bulgogi (bulgogi only chicken instead of beef) arrived all sizzling on a cow-shaped platter and was stellar. I especially liked the random little bits of veggies--one broccoli floret, three mushrooms, a bit of celery, etc. The sauce wasn't super-spicy (I'd ordered "medium") but it had a good kick to it.

There was a thing of steamed rice that I didn't eat (I don't care about rice; sorry) and that was it for free side dishes. Unusual for Korean restaurants in Toronto, at least, which usually throw in two or three little dishes of pickles or somesuch. We paid $3 for the dribbly kimchi, plus $3 each for a wonderful if salty seafood salad (AMT's choice) and a platter of lettuce leaves (my choice; the menu promised "leaf-lettuce salad). I made lettuce wraps out of my meat and the lettuce, which was quite tasty but not quite orthodox.

Ambience: a nice big restaurant, well-appointed but undistinguished. I appreciated the lack of "look, Asian stuff" art--it was just comfortable. The music was, unfortunately, some sort of classical hits album. When we entered, something from the Nutcracker was playing (full disclosure--AMT id'd everything that played, but I only nailed the wedding march.) The aspect that of course the restauranteurs didn't directly control was the other patrons. On the night we dined, these were: someone waiting for takeout and fiddling with a laptop; a man eating alone who later came over to ask us what we'd ordered and if we liked it (I couldn't tell if this was genuine culinary fascination or loneliness--I ran out of things to say about dak bulgogi, but I would have chatted with him more about something or other if I could have discerned what he wanted); a young couple in ski jackets, he with pants and a shirt underneath, she in a wedding down. Perhaps the classical march was appropriate. Anyway, it was all interesting.

The meal was a bit on the expensive side. Even leaving out the a la carte sides, $18 is more than most Torontonians would pay for bulgogi. But well, it is the mountains, I suppose you pay more for the ingredients being trekked into the mountains. And perhaps we were subsidizing the lack of other patrons. Anyway, the owner came out and talked to me while AMT was in the bathroom, and she seemed charming and dedicated and very very nervous about our liking the food. Her family immigrated 9 years ago.

So while I do have to disclose that my dining companion spent a small but striking portion of the night throwing up, I am not sure what to make of it. It seemed like such a nice place--maybe everyone screws up once in a while.

RR

Alberta is attractive

I like it here. Here in Edmonton there is a river and a majestic legislature building and lots of good food and friendly people (most of whom my host seems to know; certainly someone in every coffee shop we enter!) Also swing dancers and linguistics labs and a bunny rabbit just hanging out in a park downtown. Also, the sentence has been uttered, "I might get so excited about the interactive VHS Star Trek game that I have to use my inhaler." Clearly, there has been no lack of entertainment here.

And then there was a road trip to Jasper National Park. And though that bunny will always have a special place in my heart, it will be a bit crowded in with the deer, bighorn sheep, bald eagle, coyote, elk (some of them angry), crows and magpies. Also, while hiking in the show beside Medicine Lake, we discovered that the air smelled of cinnamon--clearly, some dried weed we had crushed underfoot emits this aroma. Magic! Anyone got ideas what it is?

Also, I'm just mildly proud of myself that I hiked with undo wussiness or death (albeit while wearing gloves I bought at Le Chateau). It is absolutely stunningly beautiful in Jasper, and there is something around every bend in the path, making the challenge of keeping on (and on) hard to resist. Here are a couple (of very many) pictures I took. These are from Athabasca Falls.

For another perspective on these adventures (and a link to many more pictures) please see Anne-Michelle's bloggage of events.

RR

Edmonton: the first 30 hours

Since arriving in Edmonton, I have done many things. I rode in a cab for half an hour without anyone except the driver (I have a taxi thing), I stayed up really late, I ran windsprints, I bought sweaters, I ate little tiny tacos, and mainly, I got to hang with AMT for enough time to talk about nonsense (my favourite sport). When I call someone long distance, I feel I have to have A+ material; when we are in the same room, I feel comfortable enough to blather.

Because the flight was in the middle of the night, I did not get the customary amount of reading done, though I did read a couple excellent essays in an ancient issue of Arc (2008, seriously, I'm behind). I was basically catatonic for the entire flight--not quite asleep, not quite awake. But again, no real jetlag, though I was pretty excited to go to sleep last night.

Today I am bright-eyed and ready to go meet AMT at her class. I get charge of the house keys and am determined to live up to the responsibility. Already, it's not going so well, as I can't figure out how to turn off several of her lamps, and being the person I am (a person who fears leaving lamps turned on all day will result in fire) I wound up unplugging them. Go, me!!

Ok, I'm to the streets of Edmonton, where it is bright and sunny and reasonably warm, but there is a wind warning in effect. Also, here they sell sandwiches at the Shoppers' Drug Mart. It's a whole other world.

RR

Reminder

that Amy Jones, Kathleen Winter and I are reading tomorrow at the Drawn & Quarterly store in Montreal, 211 rue Bernard West, at 7pm. And that it's going to be awesome. And...yay!

I'm inarticulate because of being really really tired from Hallowe'en, which was also awesome, but went on an extra hour due to Daylight Savings, and then some, because my friends are cool and I try to keep up. I'm planning to sleep...now, pretty much, so I should be in better form by the time I'm in front of any audience tomorrow.

See you there?
RR

Matching Quote Game

Everyone's been just so quotable lately that I was going to just provide you with a list of highlights, but then I thought it would be even more fun to let readers match the quotations with their attributions--that's the level of interactivity the internet is famous for, no? So here's what they said:

a) I'm starting to feel just a little abused--like a coffee machine in an office.

b) She liked me as well as the next person, anyway, and the next person hadn't come along yet.

c) This is like the confused leading the blind, leading a bunch of shrews. Don't look so calm: you're blind and you've got shrews on your tail!

d) The status is not quo.

e) Montreal metalheads are hardcore. At shows, they throw the skeletons of the people they've eaten onto the stage.

So who said what?

1) Doctor Horrible's Sing-Along Blog

2) My friend J.

3) Leon Rooke

4) Shakira

5) Teenagers on subway

No links, to discourage you from looking this stuff up. Answers can go in the comments section, and I think the prize is only eternal glory, though I'll try to think of something better than that. I'll post right answers at the end of the week, to give time for the two or three people who actually ever play my reindeer games to play.

That's amore
RR

Week's End Round-Up

As usual, there's way too much going on and I'm falling behind, but let me try: Toronto's very exciting, super-book streetfest, the ever-popular Word on the Street is back on Sunday--great for deal hunters and outdoor reading hunters, but now so populous as to be extremely unfortunate for agoraphobes. Fred explains how unwieldy and expensive hardcovers are an anglophone problem. Glee is apparently the best show ever made, but I of course don't have a working tv so have only seen this bit (wow, and a website pinker than mine). Oh, and my story "Christmas with My Mother" is forthcoming in *Best Canadian Stories 09* from Oberon Press.

I'm sure there's more; more reports as they surface.

Now put your hands up
RR

A good friend

Me: It's just down one floor, if you want to take a look.

(we descend on escalator, look around)

Me: Oh, no, sorry. I was wrong, it's actually *up* one floor. Sorry.

P: No worries. At least we got an escalator ride out of it.

Crying crying all of the time
RR

Rose-coloured Reviews T&T Supermarket

I was tired and overstimulated from an afternoon gathering featuring no fewer than 7 children under 3, but when my friend Z asked if I would mind stopping at a Chinese supermarket in Markham, I felt my energy returning.

Markham contains Chinatown North for Toronto, and Chinatown North contains wonders of new (to me) restaurants, groceries, and other things that I know nothing about that are not contained in the older, bigger, wonderful but different Toronto Chinatown south. And carless me does not get to go to Markham very often--this would only be my third trip, which is why I don't know much about what's on offer there.

I had never, for example, heard of our destination, T&T Supermarket, even though it apparently has some TTC-able branches, and is wonderful. WONDERFUL.

It's a grocery store--big parking lot, buggies, checkout lanes, etc. But it's also a market--various stands of prepared foods, pushing crowds and entire families shopping together, and the free samples are distributed far and wide by cheerful hawkers who yell at you (well, me) to come over to try some soy milk/dumplings/fried scallops. I was excited about the prepared food section because it reminded of Japan, with all the cute complete cheap dinners in plastic boxes. I think it was a pan-Asian market even though it was in a Chinese area, too, because I recognized some salmon teryaki and those triangular nori-wrapped rice cakes I forget the name of. Yum, everything.

Too bad I didn't really need any of that stuff and was full of cake, but even the stuff I wasn't buying was fun to look at: Chinese baked goods, aka, manna; giant rice-cakes that *popped* out of a rice-cake making machine (tragically, the picture didn't turn out); kimchee in tetra paks, and all kinds of vegetables I don't know how to cook with:



This would be intrepid M, with duriands. The sign, if you can't read it, says, "Handle duriands carefully to avoid injury."

Since I didn't need so many things and was feeling somewhat restrained for once (could be all the cake), I didn't buy much. But the Chinese eggplants I bought were excellent in stirfry, the lettuce was...well, standard lettuce, that apples were huge and tasty (though I dropped one on the floor and it got all bruised...we can't really blame the apple, can we?); the dried mushrooms I haven't tried yet and the sweet potato candy that I ripped into in the parking lot was...odd. But I eventually found someone who did like them to give the rest of the package to (I have another, unopened package--coming soon to a household near you!)

Also, all the little samples I tried were awesome, except the soy milk (I don't like soy milk, but it's so healthy that I keep trying). And the prices were super cheap and if you were more ambitious and organized like my shopping companion Z, you could get the makings of some truly fantastic food. And no one gave me a hard time for bouncing off people in the aisles, or clogging the produce section taking pictures, or not knowing which line to stand in. It was a friendly happy place full of delicious.

I later heard this place has been bought by Metro a chain that had a little cred in Quebec, but quickly spent it all in Ontario and now just annoys me (crunchy bitter raspberries the other day!!) So that can't be good. I'm going to try to find the local one before all the awesome falls apart.

And if we're lost together
RR

The Professional Interviews (4): Scott, Assistant Manager of Retail Distribution (at a mass-market publishing house)

[Man, I love doing these things! I've known Scott for 6 years and borrowed his workspace to make airline reservations, and I still had no idea he did half this stuff at work. It's me in the bold-face ('cause I'm that self-important), Scott in Roman. Also, you should know that while he was telling me all this, S was also making a wicked tofu marinade.]

So, what is it exactly that you do?

I work in the retail operations department. There’s 3 components to operations: what’s shipped out; what’s returned; and what’s sold. I deal with what goes out.

And by "dealing" with, you mean?

What I deal with is gross units, order files that are transmitted from our customers, entered by our sales force. I insure that [books] arrive on time, since we have a timeline from when the order files are received to when they are processed at our warehouse. I’m basically chasing down the customer or chasing down the salesperson to chase down the customer, to get the orders. Then I have to also verify the orders that we receive for reasonability. I’m also doing preliminary analysis on how we’re doing overall against these order files.

Reasonability?

Every month, stores order the same product lines. The theory is because the series’ are bought as a product line rather than as individual authors, it should be the same order numbers every months. That’s one of the major audits I do of the files, to make sure it’s the same. That’s only series. For single-title, I’m comparing it against projections, which are made by the sales force of what they think we’re gonna get.

So you’re checking that orders are reasonable, not that they’re lucrative?

Yep, just that they’re ordering what they said they were gonna order, or the same as last month. It gets more complicated, because there’s also distribution reviews done by sales force and sales analysis (the “what was sold” group) to see what’s selling, because if 30-40 percent of your book sells, that’s fantastic. Single-titles have a longer shelf-life, you’d probably want that over 50 percent.

Because of those distribution reviews, customers’ll come back and say “we’re gonna change our orders to reflect sales” (a chain will revise distribution for all their stores at once).

That’s a mere fraction of what I do. Do you want to do the rest as bullets?

Sure!

--I load the [order] files and make sure that they have all the information required for the warehouse to process the orders
--I do gross unit analysis for early trends and missing orders (that’s the bulk of my job)
--I do some summary delivery analysis reports (what does that mean? We need to know, 'Did 30% of the stores get delivery early? 20%?' I provide the numbers. Most shipments have a 3-day delivery window, [so we wonder] 'what stores received stock on the first day of the window?')
--I also take part in the weekly teleconference call with the warehouse to discuss any issues like stickering issues, inventory issues, basic return information.
--Also, I do a monthly video-conference (cool!) call with the warehouse that deals with bigger issues than the weekly call, like changing barcodes, or marketing has come up with a new product line that they want to ship.
--I am involved with monitoring inventory levels of backlist titles to see if reprints are required.
--I am helping to develop MS Sharepoint site, a document file-sharing website.
--I test and implement reporting in our data warehouse.
--print and binds—which is the process of determining how many books to print to cover initial orders and re-orders for the first 90 days.

What makes you qualified to do all that?

I’ve learned a lot of it on the job. When I started in 2001, I had basic Excel skills and MS Access skills. I would argue that logistics is just institutional knowledge—understanding how the system flows, what file format goes where, what needs to be massaged data-wise, and just...how things work. ... There is technical stuff: I had to learn specialty software, but again, I learned them on the job. And then there's just basic logic—things happen in steps.

So what is it about you, personally, that makes you good at this?

I like to understand things, that’s helpful. People have commented that I’m friendly (True!) which helps, but that is true of any job in an office—the friendly guy is well-liked. There is a certain level of intelligence required and they feel like I possess that level of intelligence, so… Asking questions is important too, so that when someone asks for correct information you can make sure you have it.

How did you get the job?

I actually was approached. I put my resume on Workopolis and a headhunter called me. Then, they made me do 2 interviews and a computer test (they sent me down to this independent third party testing thing) to see if I could actually use MS Excel. Apparently, a lot of people say they can use it, but... Since then I’ve actually done courses on Excel and there’s still a lot more I need to learn about it.

What sort of person would you recommend go after a job in operations?

(laughs) Someone who likes numbers! Um…someone who can think logically, doesn’t mind a stressful environment. Course I say that, but it depends on where you are—other companies might be difference. I think if you make toothpaste, it doesn’t change from month to month. But bread people, they have to get it there every day.

And who should stay away from this sort of job?

People who aren’t good with numbers, people who have trouble with logic, people who want to be able to sit and meander through their stuff. We’re one of those in-between departments that don’t get to control the timelines.

What is a typical day like for you?

There are no typical days.

There are greater cycles: if you come to me on a Friday, there are certain things I do on Fridays. Every cycle is different, every problem is different, unfortunately. If I had to split my day, parts of it are short-term problems and parts are long-term problems, and the short-term always eats up the long-term problems' time. Lemme give it a crack:

First thing in the morning you are going through your email to find out what happened while you weren’t there. The warehouse starts at 4-5 in the morning; they were already packing books then. And then people stayed after you left, too. After that, I usually have either ad-hoc reports or reports that are due for the cycle that I’m in. Or I’m chasing orders. Long-term stuff, I usually have some reports that I have audit to make sure they work correctly, I have instructions to type out on using reports, my boss will come with some specialty analysis that he wants done… Usually there’s calls to be made for clarification. Also we have a partnership for distribution with another publisher, and they send me morning reports on orders and inventory and I have to deal with problems there.

In the afternoon, if you’re lucky you get to do your stuff; if you’re unlucky, you’re doing other people’s stuff. At a moment’s notice, my superior or their superior, could come and ask for something. Because I’m assistant manager, I’m lucky, because they go to the manager first.

The afternoon is a blur, really. You might have meetings: tomorrow I have meeting from 8:30 to 1. It’s our big monthly meeting, which no one ever wants to go to.

Is it catered?

It used to be, but due to budget cuts, it is no longer. Which has sped it up now that we don’t have lunch in the meeting.

So, you get to 4:30, and leave?

Usually, sometimes I have to stay an extra half hour to get some key things out, but more or less I leave on time. My boss is there until 6 or 7 often, but I joke that’s because he is a bachelor. I have a lot to get home to. I have a new baby, so I have to get home and get supper and spend time with the kid…who probably isn’t old enough to appreciate it.

Is there a people management part ot your job?

I don’t have anyone report directly to me, but in operations, if you’re brought into a meeting, you’re contributing to helping solve a problem. If book signatures have been mismatched, we have a meeting and I’m part of defining the solution, I don’t say, 'you do this,' but I say, 'I’ll do this,' other people say 'I’ll do that.' Sometimes I’ll take charge of a meeting, but that’s a dynamic, sometimes people just don’t want to make a decision and I want to get it done. You can get meeting-itis, and you’re just beating something to death. Some people just like the sound of their own voice, and those people don’t work in Operations. We can’t do that because we have to get out of the meetings and deal with the emails ticking away in our in-boxes. That’s why agendas are so important.

That being said, back to my point about institutional memory, I do tell people what to do sometimes just because I know do the answer, and I say, “If you go do this, it’ll solve your problem.” They don’t report directly to me, it’s just because I have the answer they listen to me.

What do you do at lunchtime?

I usually go to the kitchen, get my lunch, and come back and eat in my office. Unless I didn’t bring a lunch, in which case I go buy it. Then I read a book, websurf (Salon, Slate, Macleans, NYT, bookninja, bookslut, and whatever meets my fancy.)

No working thru lunch?

That happens, depends on the day. Some days I have to work through.

Degree of resentment?

No one likes working through their lunch. But sometimes you get in a groove, stuff is getting done, the emails make sense when you type them up, and you don’t mind. Other days, you’re like, “Why won’t this end?” But there’s always a sense of urgency, I don’t think I’ve ever had slow days. An example: Today, I’m dealing with books that just went on sale for August so we’re having ad-hoc meetings to see if we can deal with the orders. I’ve already got all the billing files for September, now the warehouse is actually starting to process them. I’m already looking at October on-sale because I’m trying to figure out where the orders are. We’re setting up some special projects for November. And I was just dealing with my boss on Christmas books, backlist Christmas books, I had to do a report on that, to see if we need to order them, which we do.

What’s the hardest part of your job?

Memorizing some stuff. There’s certain things that my boss is just gifted with--like numbers. I’m good at math, but I don’t remember specific numbers .Some ppl can work faster because they memorize certain things, but my mind just doesn’t want to do that.

When you tell people what you do at parties, what is the typical response?

No, I don't do that. Frankly people can’t wrap their heads around it. I tell them the name of the publisher, and then I say, “I help get the books out.” I would say operations has an influence on your life, when product shows up and where it is. But it’s just too hard to explain.

Anything general about the job?

It’s been one of my pet peeves that there’s always this discussion about art vs. business. There’s this dullard Dilbert suck-your-soul element that everyone talks about in business, but I would argue every job has a soul-sucking element, even artistic pursuits. I have seen math artists-- there’s a guy in our department--people who can read that patterns. And there’s an art to writing an email, there’s art in everything. There’s a human element to everything. Math is not as simple as A + B = C; it’s hard and there are some people who are gifted. Some people just have a knack for it.

RR

Social Networking, So Much

Before the Rose-coloured blog, before the Facebook obsession and the fear of MySpace, before socializing went virtual, there was the Bureau of People We Know. Well, there was insofar as a thing that had no form or substance but simply got talked about a lot (mainly by me) can be said to have existed. In fact, even before that, there was the chorus of the children's song The More We Get Together, which encouraged you to think of my friends as your friends.

That was really the basis of the BPWK, as I have always wanted to meet my friends' friends, especially around the time I graduated undergrad, and my little circle exploded into different cities and careers and circles, doing all kinds of fascinating things far away where I couldn't see them. So whatever city someone ended up in, I'd name them head of that city's office of the BPWK, their only duty really being to hang out with me when I came to town, maybe introduce me to their other friends, and perhaps hang out with some other friends of mine if they found themselves in the same city.

This was not social networking in the Penelope Trunk sense, where you look for useful people, befriend them and then hope they'll do things for you. My central goal was for no one to ever be bored or lonely in a strange city and to meet as many cool people as possible (and in those senses, I am personally living the dream, at least).

And for the same reason (well, more the meeting cool people part), I am very fond of blogs and Facebook. I often meet someone once at a party, have a charming conversation, and wonder how I'll be able to have another charming conversation with that person without seeming a) like I'm hitting on him/her, b) a potential stalker, and c) socially lame. Facebook offered the answer, a way to get to know a *little* about people who seem cool, and to interact a *bit*, to the point where you might be able to "take it live" and have coffee in a real actual place.

And that makes me very happy. It also makes me happy that I can invite these new friends to parties and readings and be invited to theirs, that they can see my other friends and what we're all up to, and maybe the Bureau of People We Know will enlarge even further.

Social networking websites are not a substitution for personal interaction; they are a method of interacting, albeit in a minor, low-committment way. Which can be a conduit to lots of other things, or just a long-term happy acquaintanceship. Both are good things.

So yay Facebook, yay blog! I never joined MySpace because I thought you needed to have a band, and I never joined Twitter because I thought you needed to have a cellphone... Obviously, I know they'll let you *on* either platform without guitars or a flipphone, but I figured there's be no point; I'm not who it's for. Then a shadowy man told me I could synch my Facebook updates with Twitter, if only I were on Twitter. \

So now I'm on Twitter. Such is my love of FB that the hours in the day when, erm, technical difficulties make updating impossible are sad for me. So now, FB tweeting all the time.

And the bonus, of course, is that I'll get to see who is on Twitter. Besides Wren and Fred and Mel, of course, who are my friends across all platforms, aside from being original members of the BPWK.

Not sick of me yet? Let's be Twitter friends! Or you can just scroll way down on the right side of this blog and see my none-too-fascinating tweets.

Sweet Alexis / is eating fingernails for breakfast
RR

Life

This morning, as I planned this post, it was going to be titled "Life is Good", because:

1) the Joyland Joyathon last night was so amazing and fun and funny and well-attended by awesome people (most of the pictures turned out terrible, due to failures of both technology and technician [though they are still available on Facebook, if you feel the need], but here's a decent one of Brian Joseph Davis and Emily Schultz kicking off the festivities:



2) I'm heading to pretty Kingston for the weekend.

3) When I took out the recycling this morning, my eye happened to be drawn to the far end of the alley, where I had never looked before (this is sad, sad, sad, considering how long I've lived in this building and that I'm supposed to have "an eye for detail") and found...a raspberry bush in full fruit! In the alley! I ate several, just to prove to myself I could--delicious!

But then I check out the internet, and found that in the next couple months, Toronto (and the world) will be losing both Pages Bookstore and Seen Reading. All involved will continue to work wonders with books and words in our city (and the world), but this will be a big change for us all, and take some getting used to.

So, yes, life is good, but it's also life, and we struggle to keep up as best we can. Onward. I'll be back in a couple days, with tales of jails and ghosts and Greek food, we hope.

I've been an irresponsible son
RR

What we talk about when we talk about nothing

D: Aspertame isn't really bad for you, you know. That's a myth.

Me: Whew!

A: So how come I get a headache every time I have it?

D: It might be bad for you personally. Some people are allergic to aspertame, but some people are allergic to trees and grass, and I'm unwilling to accept that those are objectively bad things.

J: I'm not so crazy about grass, actually.

Me: I love hearing about what you hate! How can you hate grass?

J: It's all poky! And full of bugs.

Me: I sat on some nice grass this weekend. It was sort of dying, so it was all limp and soft.

A: Dead grass is the most poky. It's like straw.

Me: Dying, not dead. It had just gone limp, but it hadn't dried out yet.

D: It was losing turgor pressure.

Me: Exactly.

J: So that's the secret--almost dead grass. Huh.

I can't believe what they're saying / I can change my mind
RR