I went across the border the other day to buy some US stamps for several self-addressed stamped envelopes I'm sending out to American publishers in a bid to get my first children's book published.
Border guard: Where are you headed?
Me: To the post office.
Border guard: For what purpose?
Me: I'm buying stamps.
Border guard: For business or personal use?
Me: Business.
Border guard: What is your business?
Me: I'm a writer.
I'm a writer.
As I drove away, I repeated the conversation over again in my head, relishing the sound - and the truth - of those words. My passion is writing. My business is writing. I'm a writer. Finally, after 18 years of education and several years of professional detours - and a full 25 years after I first declared "I want to be a writer when I grow up," I'm living the dream.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Now that I'm done the book ...
Review: Harry, A History by Melisaa Anelli
Pocket Books, 2008
In Harry, A History, now in it’s fourth week on the New York Times Bestseller list, Melissa Anelli describes the explosion of the Harry Potter phenomenon with the added bonus of her insider’s perspective – along with being a journalist, Anelli is the “webmistress” of one of the most popular Harry Potter fan sites, The Leaky Cauldron. Harry Potter fans will be delighted to see themselves – to varying degrees depending on their level of fanaticism – within the pages of this book. And those few people who have been living in a vacuum cleaner the past several years will be shocked, and possibly appalled, at the intensity of the emotions, debates, commitments and reactions described by Anelli.
The subtitle to Harry, A History is “The True Story of a Boy Wizard, His Fans, and Life Inside the Harry Potter Phenomenon.” The book really addresses only the latter two subjects – Anelli’s own personal experience as a passionate “BNF” (big name fan), and the various expressions of fandom in general. At times these two subjects don’t mesh well, as Anelli vacillates between recounting word-for-word her conversations with friends about Harry Potter and more objective information regarding book sales, spoiler attempts and the online shipping wars (and, no, this doesn’t refer to a battle over shipping deadlines between Amazon and Chapters – a “ship” refers to a “relationship”, namely, who Harry is going to end up with). While Anelli’s personal recollections are an interesting insight into the mind of a fan, the book would have been better served if these parts had been limited to the big events in Potter history in which she had been personally involved, like her personal interviews with J.K. Rowling, the most recent of which lasted 2 days.
Anelli does a good job of giving an overall impression of the breadth and depth of the Harry Potter phenomenon. She covers topics such as the copyright war between Warner Brothers and fan websites; the birth of a new musical genre, Wizard Rock; the Laura Mallory-led fight to have the books banned from schools and libraries; release parties that shut down entire cities; tens of thousands of fans coming out to PotterCast’s travelling live podcasts; Potter-based academic discussions and conferences, and more. Throughout it all, Anelli shares stories from her personal Potter journey – the first time she met J.K. Rowling, her friendship with the actor who plays Vincent Crabbe in the movies, and the “confessional room” she used to express her frustration at the darkness of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.
The book certainly has momentum, and Anelli’s excitement and enthusiasm for her topic are contagious. But some of the people encountered in Harry, A History – including Anelli herself, have taken fandom to a whole new level – which Rowling admits in the forward is, on occasion, “downright alarming.” And yet it is these fans who have made Harry Potter more than just a bestselling series and franchise – they have made it a historical and world-wide phenomenon that is not soon to be forgotten. Anelli’s book is probably one of many that will explore this phenomenon and its cultural implications in the coming years. But what makes her book stand out is that it is not written by an academic or a cultural observer, but by someone who was in the midst of it all – and who played a key role in making Harry Potter the phenomenon it is today.
Pocket Books, 2008
In Harry, A History, now in it’s fourth week on the New York Times Bestseller list, Melissa Anelli describes the explosion of the Harry Potter phenomenon with the added bonus of her insider’s perspective – along with being a journalist, Anelli is the “webmistress” of one of the most popular Harry Potter fan sites, The Leaky Cauldron. Harry Potter fans will be delighted to see themselves – to varying degrees depending on their level of fanaticism – within the pages of this book. And those few people who have been living in a vacuum cleaner the past several years will be shocked, and possibly appalled, at the intensity of the emotions, debates, commitments and reactions described by Anelli.
The subtitle to Harry, A History is “The True Story of a Boy Wizard, His Fans, and Life Inside the Harry Potter Phenomenon.” The book really addresses only the latter two subjects – Anelli’s own personal experience as a passionate “BNF” (big name fan), and the various expressions of fandom in general. At times these two subjects don’t mesh well, as Anelli vacillates between recounting word-for-word her conversations with friends about Harry Potter and more objective information regarding book sales, spoiler attempts and the online shipping wars (and, no, this doesn’t refer to a battle over shipping deadlines between Amazon and Chapters – a “ship” refers to a “relationship”, namely, who Harry is going to end up with). While Anelli’s personal recollections are an interesting insight into the mind of a fan, the book would have been better served if these parts had been limited to the big events in Potter history in which she had been personally involved, like her personal interviews with J.K. Rowling, the most recent of which lasted 2 days.
Anelli does a good job of giving an overall impression of the breadth and depth of the Harry Potter phenomenon. She covers topics such as the copyright war between Warner Brothers and fan websites; the birth of a new musical genre, Wizard Rock; the Laura Mallory-led fight to have the books banned from schools and libraries; release parties that shut down entire cities; tens of thousands of fans coming out to PotterCast’s travelling live podcasts; Potter-based academic discussions and conferences, and more. Throughout it all, Anelli shares stories from her personal Potter journey – the first time she met J.K. Rowling, her friendship with the actor who plays Vincent Crabbe in the movies, and the “confessional room” she used to express her frustration at the darkness of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.
The book certainly has momentum, and Anelli’s excitement and enthusiasm for her topic are contagious. But some of the people encountered in Harry, A History – including Anelli herself, have taken fandom to a whole new level – which Rowling admits in the forward is, on occasion, “downright alarming.” And yet it is these fans who have made Harry Potter more than just a bestselling series and franchise – they have made it a historical and world-wide phenomenon that is not soon to be forgotten. Anelli’s book is probably one of many that will explore this phenomenon and its cultural implications in the coming years. But what makes her book stand out is that it is not written by an academic or a cultural observer, but by someone who was in the midst of it all – and who played a key role in making Harry Potter the phenomenon it is today.
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Harry, A History
I'm currently reading Harry: A History by Melissa Anelli, who is a journalist-turned-webmistress of The Leaky Cauldron, a massive Harry Potter fan website. Her book is about the history of the Harry Potter fandom - from online sites like Mugglenet, Veritaserum and Leaky to the fan fiction explosion and the wizard rock phenomenon. I'm only about half-way through, but it's well-written (if a little jumpy in places) and very interesting. I just finished her chapter on wizard rock, and I have to admit I had had no idea that Harry and the Potters were such a huge thing. I had heard of them but thought they were just a little garage band. Then I went online to listen to some of their music and discovered that an award-winning documentary (We Are Wizards) has just been released about the wizard rock phenomenon and general fan obsessiveness. In Harry, A History, one of Anelli's main points is that the maturation of the Internet around the year 2000 coincided perfectly with the growing popularity of the Harry Potter books and enabled the birth of a fandom that would probably not have happened without the aligning of these particular stars. She also opens the box on PotterWar, which is the coined phrase for the battle between Warner Bros. and the Harry Potter fansites over copywrite issues. Obviously, since sites such as The Leaky Cauldron and bands like Harry and the Potters (and Draco and the Malfoys) are still in existence, WB saw that limiting the imagination and freedom of expression of Harry Potter fans would not be in the best interest of the franchise.
What I find interesting about this book is that it is discribing a cultural phenomenon in which we are still living. I find myself almost more fascinated by the fandom of Harry Potter than by the books themselves. I look forward to being able to say "I was there" to my kids and grandkids ... show them my first editions, tell them what it was like to be at the bookstore at midnight, dig up cached versions of the websites. Of course, maybe they won't care. But I think they, like the children of today, will be captivated by the series and will want to know what it was like to wait for the next installment, what it was like to not know whether Harry will live or die. I mean, I think it was really cool that my mum was a teenager when the Beatles and Elvis were hot - and it's even more cool that she has original Beatles trading cards and an authentic Velvet Elvis. But it would be even better if I loved the Beatles' and Elvis' music as much as she did - and that's what I'm hoping for with my kids, because I think literary tastes don't change as much from generation to generation as do musical tastes.
Anyway, I'll post a more comprehensive review (or perhaps just some more rambling observations) when I've finished the book. The forward is by Rowling herself, which gives the book a indisputable air of credibility. Rowling admits "Reading the book you now have in your hands has been an astonishing experience for me. It is as though I have, at last, achieved the ambition I held for years: to go along to a bookshop at midnight on Harry Potter publication night, in disguise, and simply watch and listen. At long last I understand what was going on while I was holed up writing, trying to filter my exposure to Potter husteries. A great chunk of my own life has been explained to me. ... So this book is a history of a community, written by an insider, and I have found it inspiring, moving, humbling, amusing, and, on occasion, downright alarming."
www.harryahistory.com
What I find interesting about this book is that it is discribing a cultural phenomenon in which we are still living. I find myself almost more fascinated by the fandom of Harry Potter than by the books themselves. I look forward to being able to say "I was there" to my kids and grandkids ... show them my first editions, tell them what it was like to be at the bookstore at midnight, dig up cached versions of the websites. Of course, maybe they won't care. But I think they, like the children of today, will be captivated by the series and will want to know what it was like to wait for the next installment, what it was like to not know whether Harry will live or die. I mean, I think it was really cool that my mum was a teenager when the Beatles and Elvis were hot - and it's even more cool that she has original Beatles trading cards and an authentic Velvet Elvis. But it would be even better if I loved the Beatles' and Elvis' music as much as she did - and that's what I'm hoping for with my kids, because I think literary tastes don't change as much from generation to generation as do musical tastes.
Anyway, I'll post a more comprehensive review (or perhaps just some more rambling observations) when I've finished the book. The forward is by Rowling herself, which gives the book a indisputable air of credibility. Rowling admits "Reading the book you now have in your hands has been an astonishing experience for me. It is as though I have, at last, achieved the ambition I held for years: to go along to a bookshop at midnight on Harry Potter publication night, in disguise, and simply watch and listen. At long last I understand what was going on while I was holed up writing, trying to filter my exposure to Potter husteries. A great chunk of my own life has been explained to me. ... So this book is a history of a community, written by an insider, and I have found it inspiring, moving, humbling, amusing, and, on occasion, downright alarming."
www.harryahistory.com
Friday, August 29, 2008
Friday, August 15, 2008
The Work-at-Home Diaries
I have a few relatively urgent work-related emails I needed to send this morning, so I leave my kids playing happily in the living room and duck into the office for a few minutes. What seems like mere seconds later, Lauren runs into the office covered in what I initially think is blood - perhaps a repeat of yesterday's bloody nose incident (children and large decorative bath faucets do not mix). Fortunately, it's just red ink dripping from her marker, which my husband had over-zealously shaken earlier in the morning to "get the ink flowing." Thank you, Crayola, for inventing washable markers. So I head out into the kitchen to get a cloth, and I notice that Willow is sitting happily on the floor, stuffing fat handfuls of sticky, day-old cooked rice/lentils/sweet potato into her mouth ... and in her hair, and between her toes, while simultaneously mashing it into the playmat she's sitting on. If any of you have ever made your own "super baby porridge", you know that this stuff is like cement when it dries. Apparently, Lauren thought Willow needed something to play with and so gave her the Tupperware containing the remnants of yesterday's supper ... and apparently, Willow has learned how to open Tupperware. So I pick Willow up and plunk her in the bath, while also filling the bathroom sink with some water and bubbles for Lauren to play in while I deal with Willow. Willow starts screaming and rubbing her eyes so I take her out and put her to bed, go get the playmat, breath a sigh of relief as I discover it's machine-washable, throw it in the washing machine, and come back to the bathroom to discover the entire conents of the sink - bubbles, water, toys and all - on the bathroom floor. Several towels later ... it's now 11 o'clock and my emails have yet to be sent, I'm still in my pyjamas, and all I've managed for breakfast so far is two cups of coffee. Thankfully, I'm finding this all quite humourous - and at least I'm not bored!
Thursday, July 24, 2008
On Writing and Plants
In my mind, being a good writer is somehow inextricably tied with being good with plants. Whenever I think of a writer's house I think of my friend Leanne's place - filled with light and living green things in every available space - on every windowsill, in charming pots in the bathroom, hanging from the ceiling (and that's not to mention the vegetable and flower gardens in the backyard). My house, on the other hand, is pitifully lacking in the natural light category and does not have a single plant in it - partly because it has as much light as the average medieval dungeon, and partly because I am woefully inadequate at keeping plants alive. Believe me, I've tried - every once in awhile I make a big trip to the local gardening centre and buy lots of pretty plants in pretty pots ... but then I proceed to neglect them until they wither and die. I'm honestly surprised that I can keep children and small animals alive - however, I do have quite a nice collection of pots now.
This new house that we live in is the first place I've lived that has a bit of a front garden - various bushes and trees that - as I discovered when they all started to turn brown - need watering. Who builds these labour-intensive places?? Do they think we have nothing else to do with our time? Fortunately, our next door neigbours have a gardener (and a housekeeper and a nanny ...), and he was kind enough to give me some pointers (like, "that plant you thought was a weed and just pulled up is actually a rare tropical flower"). We also have flowerbeds in our backyard, but apparently I'm supposed to put something in them (although there are a few bushes that I've been told will flower, and one pretty pink plant). They do make a lovely sandbox for our toddler, though.
Anyway, back to my main point. Is my lack of skill with plants indicative of my skill - or, more aptly, my identity - as a writer? Can one be as in touch with the inner muse in a life-less concrete skyscraper as in a country home filled with the aroma of freshly-picked flowers and tomatoes waiting to be canned? Not that I live in a skyscraper ... but somehow I still feel that there is a connection between the ability to nurture plants and the ability to nurture words. Which means a trip to the gardening centre is in order ...
In other news, I was very domestic yesterday. I cooked and pureed and froze broccoli, asparagus, squash, and sweet potatoes for my baby, made 2 quarts of yogurt, and made 4 dozen jars of raspberry jam with my sister-in-law.
And, in very very sad news, I found out that one of my friends' husband has a cancerous brain tumour. He's only 31 and has a year-and-a-half-old son. If you pray, please pray for him.
This new house that we live in is the first place I've lived that has a bit of a front garden - various bushes and trees that - as I discovered when they all started to turn brown - need watering. Who builds these labour-intensive places?? Do they think we have nothing else to do with our time? Fortunately, our next door neigbours have a gardener (and a housekeeper and a nanny ...), and he was kind enough to give me some pointers (like, "that plant you thought was a weed and just pulled up is actually a rare tropical flower"). We also have flowerbeds in our backyard, but apparently I'm supposed to put something in them (although there are a few bushes that I've been told will flower, and one pretty pink plant). They do make a lovely sandbox for our toddler, though.
Anyway, back to my main point. Is my lack of skill with plants indicative of my skill - or, more aptly, my identity - as a writer? Can one be as in touch with the inner muse in a life-less concrete skyscraper as in a country home filled with the aroma of freshly-picked flowers and tomatoes waiting to be canned? Not that I live in a skyscraper ... but somehow I still feel that there is a connection between the ability to nurture plants and the ability to nurture words. Which means a trip to the gardening centre is in order ...
In other news, I was very domestic yesterday. I cooked and pureed and froze broccoli, asparagus, squash, and sweet potatoes for my baby, made 2 quarts of yogurt, and made 4 dozen jars of raspberry jam with my sister-in-law.
And, in very very sad news, I found out that one of my friends' husband has a cancerous brain tumour. He's only 31 and has a year-and-a-half-old son. If you pray, please pray for him.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
A Curious Morning
It was an odd morning - one I did not take full advantage of. My baby got up around 7 and decided that she wanted to go back to bed at 8. My toddler slept in until 9 - very odd in and of itself - and then proceeded to play nicely in her crib until 10:30, at which time I went in and changed her diaper which had leaked all over the bed. I thought she would be starving, but she didn't seem interested in coming downstairs with me and the baby, so she stayed in her room and played by herself for another hour. Now, had I known I was going to have practically the whole morning by myself, I would have been much, much more productive. Beds would have been made, laundry would have been folded, baby food pureed, dished washed, queries written, emails answered ... but because I was expecting Lauren to wake up at any moment, I merely whiled away my time by reading Cassandra Clare's Draco Trilogy, which is too full of teenaged angst for my liking but still strangely compelling. I suppose I can't consider the morning completely wasted, since reading of any sort must hold some modicum of value (mustn't it?) ... and I'll even go so far as to posit that I deserve a wasted morning now and again.
In other news, a short story I wrote (which will never be posted on this site, so don't ask - and no, that's not because it's erotica, because it's not ...) won some awards in the online fiction challenge I entered. Best angst, best newcomer, and runner-up or best overall.
In other news, a short story I wrote (which will never be posted on this site, so don't ask - and no, that's not because it's erotica, because it's not ...) won some awards in the online fiction challenge I entered. Best angst, best newcomer, and runner-up or best overall.
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Too many books
Tonight Mr. Sarajevo and I discovered something we never thought possible - we have too many books. We moved into our new house back in October, but being 8 months pregnant at the time and not having proper office furniture, we decided to postpone unpacking our new home office until ... now, 9 months later. One of our bookshelves had broken in our move and we loaned another to a friend, so I knew we wouldn't be able to unpack all of our books onto our three remaining bookshelves. So we opened and sorted through the piles of boxes stacked in our front hall, only putting our most prized books up on the shelves until they were full (my hubby and I also came into our marriage with a lot of doubles - we have two copies of the Complete Works of William Shakespeare, four copies of the Lord of the Rings, and doubles of several religious texts and university textbooks). Then we divided the remaining books into two piles - some to keep in storage until we have more room for them, and some to give away to the church and the library. All in a good night's work, I thought. Then, as we were sitting down and gazing serenely around our cozy little office, my husband happened to glance into the small bathroom in our front hall. "Um ..." he said. "What are all these boxes?"
Frack frack frack. I had forgotten that last week, when I was moving the boxes out of the office so I could set up my new desk, I had piled several of them out of the way in the bathroom. And when I say "several", I mean "fourteen." Fourteen more bloody boxes of books! After staring unbelievingly at the piles which stood mocking me beside the loo rolls, I took a deep breath and formulated a plan. Not rocket science, really. Tomorrow I'll take all the books off the three shelves in our office and move two of them upstairs into our bedroom. That's where our religious and self-help books will go. Then I'll go to IKEA, land of the 5 cent plastic bags, and buy two (or three) new shelves for the office (colour coordination is an issue here), where our fiction, politics, philosophy and current events books will remain. THEN, I'm going to go get us both library cards.
Frack frack frack. I had forgotten that last week, when I was moving the boxes out of the office so I could set up my new desk, I had piled several of them out of the way in the bathroom. And when I say "several", I mean "fourteen." Fourteen more bloody boxes of books! After staring unbelievingly at the piles which stood mocking me beside the loo rolls, I took a deep breath and formulated a plan. Not rocket science, really. Tomorrow I'll take all the books off the three shelves in our office and move two of them upstairs into our bedroom. That's where our religious and self-help books will go. Then I'll go to IKEA, land of the 5 cent plastic bags, and buy two (or three) new shelves for the office (colour coordination is an issue here), where our fiction, politics, philosophy and current events books will remain. THEN, I'm going to go get us both library cards.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Enviro-posers
Before I start my rant, let me say this: I love our planet. I love green spaces and clean air and want more of these things for my children. I'm not an anti-environmentalist, except when environmentalists are (a) idiots and (b) capitalists posing as environmentalists. Such is the case with IKEA, which I discovered yesterday. I'm waiting in line to pay for my bookshelf for my home office, and a new sign is posted at the cash, saying something to this effect:
"At IKEA, we are doing our part to protect our environment. Because of this, we are now charging 5 cents for every plastic bag you use. All proceeds will go to Random Tree Planting Foundation."
See, I think if IKEA really cared about protecting the environment, they would make a donation out of their own profits to random tree planting foundation - instead of making me do it. By passing on these costs to the consumer, they are doing absolutely nothing as a corporation, but still feel that this gives them some sort of environmental platform to boast of. How does me paying 5 cents for a plastic bag make them into enviromentalists? All it does is force me to donate to random tree planting foundation, and the large multi-national corporation doesn't have to donate a penny.
That's my biggest problem with this new environmental movement, especially Dion's proposed carbon tax and the one coming into effect in BC on Monday. Sure, the "carbon producers" get taxed, but do you think they're going to let that affect their bottom line? Of course not! They're just going to pass the costs down to the average joe who buys their products, because that's how a market economy works. And so the large multinational corporations will continue to rake in the profits, while the average working family will pay for it.
"At IKEA, we are doing our part to protect our environment. Because of this, we are now charging 5 cents for every plastic bag you use. All proceeds will go to Random Tree Planting Foundation."
See, I think if IKEA really cared about protecting the environment, they would make a donation out of their own profits to random tree planting foundation - instead of making me do it. By passing on these costs to the consumer, they are doing absolutely nothing as a corporation, but still feel that this gives them some sort of environmental platform to boast of. How does me paying 5 cents for a plastic bag make them into enviromentalists? All it does is force me to donate to random tree planting foundation, and the large multi-national corporation doesn't have to donate a penny.
That's my biggest problem with this new environmental movement, especially Dion's proposed carbon tax and the one coming into effect in BC on Monday. Sure, the "carbon producers" get taxed, but do you think they're going to let that affect their bottom line? Of course not! They're just going to pass the costs down to the average joe who buys their products, because that's how a market economy works. And so the large multinational corporations will continue to rake in the profits, while the average working family will pay for it.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
The Big Read
The Big Read reckons that the average adult has only read 6 of the top 100 books they've printed.
1) Look at the list and bold those you have read.
2) Italicise those you intend to read.
3) Underline the books you LOVE.
4) Reprint this list in your own blog so we can try and track down these people who've read 6 and force books upon them ;-)
1. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
2. The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
3. Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4. Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
5. To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
6. The Bible
7. Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8. Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell
9. His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10. Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
11. Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
12. Tess of the D'Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13. Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14. Complete Works of Shakespeare
15. Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16. The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17. Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18. Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
19. The Time Traveller's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20. Middlemarch - George Eliot
21. Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22. The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
23. Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24. War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25. The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26. Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27. Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28. Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29. Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30. The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31. Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32. David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33. Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
34. Emma - Jane Austen
35. Persuasion - Jane Austen
36. The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis (why is this not included with the Chronicles of Narnia? I feel like I'm cheating by counting it twice)
37. The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38. Captain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39. Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40. Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne
41. Animal Farm - George Orwell
42. The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
43. One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44. A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45. The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46. Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47. Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48. The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
49. Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50. Atonement - Ian McEwan
51. Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52. Dune - Frank Herbert
53. Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54. Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55. A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56. The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57. A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58. Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60. Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61. Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62. Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63. The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64. The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65. Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66. On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67. Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68. Bridget Jones' Diary - Helen Fielding
69 . Midnight's Children - Salman Rushdie
70. Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71. Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72. Dracula - Bram Stoker
73.The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74. Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75. Ulysses - James Joyce
76. The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77. Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78. Germinal - Emile Zola
79. Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80. Possession - AS Byatt
81. A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82. Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83. The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84. The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85. Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86. A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87. Charlotte's Web - EB White
88. The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89. Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90. The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91. Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92. The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93. The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94. Watership Down - Richard Adams
95. A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96. A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97. The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98. Hamlet - William Shakespeare (why is this not included in with the Complete Works of Shakespeare?)
99. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100. Les Miserables - Victor Hugo
34 - not as bad as I thought when I first read the list.
1) Look at the list and bold those you have read.
2) Italicise those you intend to read.
3) Underline the books you LOVE.
4) Reprint this list in your own blog so we can try and track down these people who've read 6 and force books upon them ;-)
1. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
2. The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
3. Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4. Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
5. To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
6. The Bible
7. Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8. Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell
9. His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10. Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
11. Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
12. Tess of the D'Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13. Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14. Complete Works of Shakespeare
15. Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16. The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17. Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18. Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
19. The Time Traveller's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20. Middlemarch - George Eliot
21. Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22. The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
23. Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24. War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25. The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26. Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27. Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28. Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29. Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30. The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31. Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32. David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33. Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
34. Emma - Jane Austen
35. Persuasion - Jane Austen
36. The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis (why is this not included with the Chronicles of Narnia? I feel like I'm cheating by counting it twice)
37. The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38. Captain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39. Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40. Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne
41. Animal Farm - George Orwell
42. The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
43. One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44. A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45. The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46. Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47. Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48. The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
49. Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50. Atonement - Ian McEwan
51. Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52. Dune - Frank Herbert
53. Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54. Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55. A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56. The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57. A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58. Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60. Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61. Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62. Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63. The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64. The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65. Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66. On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67. Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68. Bridget Jones' Diary - Helen Fielding
69 . Midnight's Children - Salman Rushdie
70. Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71. Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72. Dracula - Bram Stoker
73.The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74. Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75. Ulysses - James Joyce
76. The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77. Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78. Germinal - Emile Zola
79. Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80. Possession - AS Byatt
81. A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82. Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83. The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84. The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85. Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86. A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87. Charlotte's Web - EB White
88. The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89. Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90. The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91. Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92. The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93. The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94. Watership Down - Richard Adams
95. A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96. A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97. The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98. Hamlet - William Shakespeare (why is this not included in with the Complete Works of Shakespeare?)
99. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100. Les Miserables - Victor Hugo
34 - not as bad as I thought when I first read the list.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Faint Hope for Burma
This was written as an op-ed a couple of weeks ago, when CIDA first announced its new aid package for Burma.
To the casual observer, Friday was a good news day for Burma. Its military rulers announced they would allow foreign aid workers into their cyclone-ravaged country. Hours later, the Canadian government increased its humanitarian aid package by $12 million. All good news – on the surface. Unfortunately, no matter how hard one looks for the silver lining in this situation, the difficulties faced by potential humanitarians remain all but insurmountable.
But let us at least try to find something positive here. One encouraging observation which can be made is that CIDA has allocated almost half of the total $14 million in aid to non-governmental organizations such as CARE Canada and Save the Children Canada, and will also match private donations to these and other qualified NGOs. Most of these organizations have already-established networks and local staff in Burma who are familiar with the terrain, the culture and the political minefield of doing anything in what is arguably the world’s most corrupt and paranoid regime. The Canadian government’s contributions to these NGOs is money well-spent.
It seems our government is learning from the various polls and surveys in recent years which have shown Canadians are growing increasingly cynical about the effectiveness of their foreign aid, even though they remain generous in their desire to help the world’s needy. A CIDA-sponsored poll in 2002 indicated more than half of the population would be willing to pay an extra one percent on their taxes for foreign aid if all the money was spent on the poor. Another survey in 2005 indicated seventy percent believe the government should set aside more money to give to aid agencies for disasters. So it is therefore good news that, of the nearly $14 million Canada has committed to the Burmese disaster, $6 million is being given to NGOs and aid agencies with proven track records for efficient and accountable relief efforts. The other $7.8 million is being given to various UN agencies, which, while not as efficient and certainly not as accountable as the other organizations, at least have the capacity to transport large amounts of aid and to assist in the coordination of the other agencies on the ground.
Now for the reality check. Despite CIDA’s efforts to funnel this aid money through the best possible channels, there is still the very real possibility that little if any of it will reach those in need. It is hard for those of us in the West to comprehend the lengths to which the Burmese generals will go to retain their vice-like grip on the country. The junta has ensured that the Burmese people have only two options in life: toe the line or, if you’re lucky, languish in jail. There is zero tolerance for dissent – in any form over any issue. It is an absolute police state, flush with spies and informants. The military knows – and controls – what everyone is doing at all times. It is illegal to own a fax machine, modem, or even a walkie-talkie, or to stay at another person’s house for the night without the prior permission of the local military authority.
The junta has proven many times that the welfare of its people is its last concern. The generals refused outside aid when the 2004 tsunami devastated areas of Burma. Instead, they closed off the affected areas and made it illegal for anyone to help those whose lives had been ruined.
Knowing all this, do we honestly believe these same dictators are going to open up their arms and their country to a tidal wave of foreign aid workers? While aid agencies are expressing initial optimism following the military’s apparent concessions to the UN Secretary General, no one in the international community seems to know any details as to how it will play out. Who will be allowed in? For how long? To do what? One thing we can be almost certain of is that every truck, every boat that passes into Burmese territory will be accompanied by a member of the Burmese military. They will be the ones calling the shots and telling the aid workers where they can go and how much aid they can distribute to whom.
The most likely – and depressing – scenario is that it’s all just propaganda. One could even speculate that the generals have seen this cyclone as a blessing. Could it be that this latest announcement is just a way to draw in the international community and increase the aid flowing into the country – aid that can then be siphoned off at every opportunity? There will no doubt be several photo-ops to showcase the military cooperating with international workers, but it is just as certain that most if not all of these will be staged, another cog in the propaganda machine. Signs that this is all just a show are already surfacing. The military made a big deal about allowing cameras into a camp for displaced persons, complete with bright blue UN-issued tents. But as soon as the cameras left, the tents came down, and the people were sent back to the wreckage that used to be their homes. But the photos made the evening news, and we in the West believed something was being done.
There are some observers who are even more cynical, who posit that we should just leave the Burmese to sort it out themselves. Surely, they say, if the people are trodden on enough they will rise up and topple the military dictatorship. However, the truth is that a full-scale revolution by the Burmese people is virtually impossible – the leaders have seen to that. Their people are starving, disease-ridden, and often pressed into forced labour. It is all they can do to just survive. Thousands of protesters were slaughtered in 1988, when the military overturned the results of the elections it itself had organized. What little resistance remained has since been crushed or bought off with a share of the lucrative opium trade.
With that said, I am not yet among the most hardened of skeptics. Despite the small chance of success, I applaud Canada’s decision to send aid, and I encourage the Canadian public to donate to the organizations who will receive CIDA’s matching funds. There is a possibility – however slim – that these NGOs can save lives, despite the junta’s best efforts to prevent this. Most of all, we can show the Burmese people that they are not forgotten by the outside world, and that there are rulers and leaders in the world who are not criminally insane. The compassion demonstrated by our aid workers may give the Burmese something more valuable than food and shelter – it may give them hope. And this may be the junta’s biggest fear.
To the casual observer, Friday was a good news day for Burma. Its military rulers announced they would allow foreign aid workers into their cyclone-ravaged country. Hours later, the Canadian government increased its humanitarian aid package by $12 million. All good news – on the surface. Unfortunately, no matter how hard one looks for the silver lining in this situation, the difficulties faced by potential humanitarians remain all but insurmountable.
But let us at least try to find something positive here. One encouraging observation which can be made is that CIDA has allocated almost half of the total $14 million in aid to non-governmental organizations such as CARE Canada and Save the Children Canada, and will also match private donations to these and other qualified NGOs. Most of these organizations have already-established networks and local staff in Burma who are familiar with the terrain, the culture and the political minefield of doing anything in what is arguably the world’s most corrupt and paranoid regime. The Canadian government’s contributions to these NGOs is money well-spent.
It seems our government is learning from the various polls and surveys in recent years which have shown Canadians are growing increasingly cynical about the effectiveness of their foreign aid, even though they remain generous in their desire to help the world’s needy. A CIDA-sponsored poll in 2002 indicated more than half of the population would be willing to pay an extra one percent on their taxes for foreign aid if all the money was spent on the poor. Another survey in 2005 indicated seventy percent believe the government should set aside more money to give to aid agencies for disasters. So it is therefore good news that, of the nearly $14 million Canada has committed to the Burmese disaster, $6 million is being given to NGOs and aid agencies with proven track records for efficient and accountable relief efforts. The other $7.8 million is being given to various UN agencies, which, while not as efficient and certainly not as accountable as the other organizations, at least have the capacity to transport large amounts of aid and to assist in the coordination of the other agencies on the ground.
Now for the reality check. Despite CIDA’s efforts to funnel this aid money through the best possible channels, there is still the very real possibility that little if any of it will reach those in need. It is hard for those of us in the West to comprehend the lengths to which the Burmese generals will go to retain their vice-like grip on the country. The junta has ensured that the Burmese people have only two options in life: toe the line or, if you’re lucky, languish in jail. There is zero tolerance for dissent – in any form over any issue. It is an absolute police state, flush with spies and informants. The military knows – and controls – what everyone is doing at all times. It is illegal to own a fax machine, modem, or even a walkie-talkie, or to stay at another person’s house for the night without the prior permission of the local military authority.
The junta has proven many times that the welfare of its people is its last concern. The generals refused outside aid when the 2004 tsunami devastated areas of Burma. Instead, they closed off the affected areas and made it illegal for anyone to help those whose lives had been ruined.
Knowing all this, do we honestly believe these same dictators are going to open up their arms and their country to a tidal wave of foreign aid workers? While aid agencies are expressing initial optimism following the military’s apparent concessions to the UN Secretary General, no one in the international community seems to know any details as to how it will play out. Who will be allowed in? For how long? To do what? One thing we can be almost certain of is that every truck, every boat that passes into Burmese territory will be accompanied by a member of the Burmese military. They will be the ones calling the shots and telling the aid workers where they can go and how much aid they can distribute to whom.
The most likely – and depressing – scenario is that it’s all just propaganda. One could even speculate that the generals have seen this cyclone as a blessing. Could it be that this latest announcement is just a way to draw in the international community and increase the aid flowing into the country – aid that can then be siphoned off at every opportunity? There will no doubt be several photo-ops to showcase the military cooperating with international workers, but it is just as certain that most if not all of these will be staged, another cog in the propaganda machine. Signs that this is all just a show are already surfacing. The military made a big deal about allowing cameras into a camp for displaced persons, complete with bright blue UN-issued tents. But as soon as the cameras left, the tents came down, and the people were sent back to the wreckage that used to be their homes. But the photos made the evening news, and we in the West believed something was being done.
There are some observers who are even more cynical, who posit that we should just leave the Burmese to sort it out themselves. Surely, they say, if the people are trodden on enough they will rise up and topple the military dictatorship. However, the truth is that a full-scale revolution by the Burmese people is virtually impossible – the leaders have seen to that. Their people are starving, disease-ridden, and often pressed into forced labour. It is all they can do to just survive. Thousands of protesters were slaughtered in 1988, when the military overturned the results of the elections it itself had organized. What little resistance remained has since been crushed or bought off with a share of the lucrative opium trade.
With that said, I am not yet among the most hardened of skeptics. Despite the small chance of success, I applaud Canada’s decision to send aid, and I encourage the Canadian public to donate to the organizations who will receive CIDA’s matching funds. There is a possibility – however slim – that these NGOs can save lives, despite the junta’s best efforts to prevent this. Most of all, we can show the Burmese people that they are not forgotten by the outside world, and that there are rulers and leaders in the world who are not criminally insane. The compassion demonstrated by our aid workers may give the Burmese something more valuable than food and shelter – it may give them hope. And this may be the junta’s biggest fear.
Friday, June 06, 2008
On turning 30
They say that women don’t really know who they are until their 30s. So it is with joy and not sorrow that I celebrate my 30th birthday, because I’m hoping that this magic number will unlock the deep mystery surrounding who I truly am.
So much happened in my 20s, most of it regrettable. I escaped my small town and traveled to England, Northern Ireland, Manitoba, Toronto, and then as far west as I could get while staying in the country. I had a child and lost him. I indulged in sex and alcohol and experimented with drugs. I craved power and gained it in unseemly ways. I teetered on the brink of alcoholism and despair not once, but twice – rescued the first time by my unborn child and the second by the man who would be my husband.
The last four years of my 20s were much, MUCH more positive, although still full of challenges and changes. I was exposed to new ideas and convictions which I have embraced. I have been forced into responsibility by my love for my husband and the birth of my daughters – and have found that I quite enjoy it. I have returned to the values of my childhood. I have learned more than lip service about God’s love for the poor and the need to act out our faith. I have strived to make our home into a place of rest for the weary and welcome for all those who need it – modeling it after the many homes that received me during my struggles. And I have very recently seen with clarity that my childhood dream to be a writer survived the many years when I was soul-dead. In short, I have matured at light speed from where I was a decade ago.
I am still struggling with the way forward from here. The transition from VP to stay-at-home mom has not been an easy one. My identity has taken a severe beating, but I’m hoping this is God refining me by fire, so that my true self can emerge whole and pure, unmarred by ambition, greed and an inflated sense of self. Intellectually, I believe that one doesn’t have to be involved in full-time “ministry” in order to be serving God, that there is no distinction between the secular and the sacred since God is Lord over all, and that the world needs Christian doctors, lawyers, filmmakers, teachers … and writers. But I still feel guilty when ever I consider writing for a living – although the idea thrills me at the same time – because I can’t help but think of the poor who need cared for, the unsaved who need loved, and the non-profits out there who could honestly benefit from my marketing and fundraising expertise. My husband asked me the other day what I would do if I didn’t have to work – if he made enough money to cover our expenses. He said, “Would you just do your consulting and contract work for free?” My answer was immediate, and I think it surprised him. I said, “I would write a novel.”
But, the reality remains that we have bills to pay and, according to the Canadian Writer’s Market, the best way to starve to death in Canada is to be a freelance writer. I am hoping I can find a compromise – enough corporate and higher-paying writing and consulting work to allow me to spend at least part of my time on my own writing, until I can build up that side of the business enough to stop doing corporate work altogether. It’s not that I don’t enjoy that kind of work – and it’s not really fair to call it “corporate”, either, since most of my clients are non-profits – it’s just that I am so bursting with ideas for articles, editorials, and both non-fiction and fiction books that I’m finding it difficult to sleep at night – or to concentrate on any one piece at a time.
Fortunately for now, I still have a few months of maternity leave left so the pressure is off, and I can indulge myself in volunteer work that I soon won’t have time for and amuse myself by writing fluffy Remus/Tonks drabbles to hone my pathetic fiction-writing skills. I will spare you the pain of having to read any of them. J
So much happened in my 20s, most of it regrettable. I escaped my small town and traveled to England, Northern Ireland, Manitoba, Toronto, and then as far west as I could get while staying in the country. I had a child and lost him. I indulged in sex and alcohol and experimented with drugs. I craved power and gained it in unseemly ways. I teetered on the brink of alcoholism and despair not once, but twice – rescued the first time by my unborn child and the second by the man who would be my husband.
The last four years of my 20s were much, MUCH more positive, although still full of challenges and changes. I was exposed to new ideas and convictions which I have embraced. I have been forced into responsibility by my love for my husband and the birth of my daughters – and have found that I quite enjoy it. I have returned to the values of my childhood. I have learned more than lip service about God’s love for the poor and the need to act out our faith. I have strived to make our home into a place of rest for the weary and welcome for all those who need it – modeling it after the many homes that received me during my struggles. And I have very recently seen with clarity that my childhood dream to be a writer survived the many years when I was soul-dead. In short, I have matured at light speed from where I was a decade ago.
I am still struggling with the way forward from here. The transition from VP to stay-at-home mom has not been an easy one. My identity has taken a severe beating, but I’m hoping this is God refining me by fire, so that my true self can emerge whole and pure, unmarred by ambition, greed and an inflated sense of self. Intellectually, I believe that one doesn’t have to be involved in full-time “ministry” in order to be serving God, that there is no distinction between the secular and the sacred since God is Lord over all, and that the world needs Christian doctors, lawyers, filmmakers, teachers … and writers. But I still feel guilty when ever I consider writing for a living – although the idea thrills me at the same time – because I can’t help but think of the poor who need cared for, the unsaved who need loved, and the non-profits out there who could honestly benefit from my marketing and fundraising expertise. My husband asked me the other day what I would do if I didn’t have to work – if he made enough money to cover our expenses. He said, “Would you just do your consulting and contract work for free?” My answer was immediate, and I think it surprised him. I said, “I would write a novel.”
But, the reality remains that we have bills to pay and, according to the Canadian Writer’s Market, the best way to starve to death in Canada is to be a freelance writer. I am hoping I can find a compromise – enough corporate and higher-paying writing and consulting work to allow me to spend at least part of my time on my own writing, until I can build up that side of the business enough to stop doing corporate work altogether. It’s not that I don’t enjoy that kind of work – and it’s not really fair to call it “corporate”, either, since most of my clients are non-profits – it’s just that I am so bursting with ideas for articles, editorials, and both non-fiction and fiction books that I’m finding it difficult to sleep at night – or to concentrate on any one piece at a time.
Fortunately for now, I still have a few months of maternity leave left so the pressure is off, and I can indulge myself in volunteer work that I soon won’t have time for and amuse myself by writing fluffy Remus/Tonks drabbles to hone my pathetic fiction-writing skills. I will spare you the pain of having to read any of them. J
Renewing Canadians' Trust in Foreign Aid
This is an article I wrote last year but never got around to sending it anywhere ... it's now too outdated to be published, so I thought I'd at least post it here. I'll probably be doing that with a lot of unpublished articles! :)
Renewing Canadians' Trust in Foreign Aid
Every year, millions of women and children in Nigeria make the long and often hazardous trek to the closest medical clinic on what are known as national immunization days. They expect to be given high dose vitamin A capsules, which will help prevent blindness and will strengthen their immune systems against deadly diseases. The $25 million in vitamin A pills are donated annually by Canada’s official international development agency, CIDA.
This year, the women and children were turned away without their vitamin A, because none of those 100 million pills actually reached the clinics – and the mothers and children – for whom they were intended. Instead, the capsules ended up for sale in pharmacies, clinics and even hair salons, masquerading as a miracle cure for HIV. The profits from their sales, we can only assume, are now lining the pockets of the Nigerian government officials who were entrusted with their safe delivery to hospitals and medical clinics across the country.
That something like this happened came as a surprise to no one in the international community. Oil-rich and human-rights poor, Nigeria is arguably the most mismanaged economy in Africa and is widely recognized as one of the world’s most corrupt countries. Robert Young Pelton, author of The World’s Most Dangerous Places, calls Nigeria a place where you need to hire criminals to protect you from the police – and he’s only slightly kidding.
What is surprising is that last year the Canadian government gave over $78 million in aid to the government of Nigeria – not to aid agencies or non-governmental organizations (NGOs) working in Nigeria, but to the Nigerian government itself – when it has proven repeatedly that it will not use those millions to improve the lives of its people.
As stories like this become more and more common, Canadians are, with good reason, growing increasingly cynical about the effectiveness of our foreign aid, even though they remain generous in their desire to help the world’s needy. A CIDA-sponsored poll indicated more than half of the population would be willing to pay an extra one percent on their taxes for foreign aid if all the money was spent on the poor. And yet, in another CIDA report, a remarkable 82% agree much of the aid given to poor countries never gets to the people who need it most. Clearly, Canadians believe the money we dole out in aid is being thrown to the wind – or, more likely, amassed in Swiss banks.
Is such cynicism inevitable? Is the system so corrupt and beyond repair the best we can hope for is that even a measly portion of what we send will get to those in need, or should we give up on sending aid altogether?
Not at all, says Ben Hoogendoorn, president of the aid agency Canadian Food for the Hungry International (CFHI) and chair of the British Columbia Council for International Cooperation. He says the solution is simple. Instead of transferring billions of dollars to other governments or multilateral agencies like the UN, CIDA should instead increase funding to smaller aid agencies and NGOs like CFHI. “The NGOs have proven, by every standard that exists, to be more effective than government-to-government or multilateral funding,” says Hoogendoorn. When asked if he thought the vitamin A scandal would have happened if CIDA had worked through an NGO, his answer was immediate: “I can’t see it. Any reputable NGO would have made sure those vitamins got to the women and children.”
This is not to say that there is no progress on the international poverty front. In last year’s foreign policy review, Aileen Carroll, the then-Minister of International Co-operation stated “the world has made significant progress in human development. The number of people living on less than a dollar a day has dropped impressively; more children, particularly girls, are in school; and democracy has continued to spread.” Yet she failed to identify who the key players were in bringing about this transformation. This kind of posturing frustrates David Collins, who is co-chair of the Micah Challenge, a national network of NGOs and churches working with the poor. “Too often,” he says, “governments take credit for the work of others. Or they attribute these successes to the large multilateral agencies such as the World Food Program. The reality is, much of the actual aid delivery is subcontracted out to NGOs that work in the field.”
The CBC’s Brian Stewart, one of Canada’s most prominent foreign correspondents, recognized this truth in his convocation address to Knox College in Toronto. Speaking specifically of Christian NGO’s, he said that they are “right on the front lines of committed humanity today and, when I want to find that front, I follow their trail. It is a vast front, stretching to the most impoverished reaches of the developing world. I have never been able to reach these front lines without finding Christian volunteers already in the thick of it. I repeat: I’ve never reached a war zone, famine group or crisis anywhere that some church organization was not there long before me.”
Despite their cynicism, or perhaps because of it, Canadians instinctively know that funding small NGOs is more effective than funding corrupt governments. In a survey conducted prior to last year’s foreign policy review, three-quarters indicated that giving money to Canadian NGOs is the most effective way for Canada to help the world’s poor, and seventy percent believe the government should set aside more money from its $12 billion surplus to give to aid agencies for disasters. Even a study commissioned by CIDA could not obscure this reality. The study found an “intrinsic value in working with small and medium-sized NGOs as they can deliver effective grassroots development programming, achieve results and also positively impact government policies and practices.”
The then-Liberal government was obviously not listening to Canadians or the recommendations from its own reports. Instead of increasing funding to NGOs, it informed over 400 of them that they were no longer eligible for government grants. The assumption seems to be that governments – both ours and those in developing countries – can deliver aid more effectively and efficiently than NGOs. And yet we have seen time and time again that the opposite is true. The South East Asian tsunami disaster is a prime example: while governments debated and discussed and prepared to act, hundreds of NGOs responded immediately. It took the Canadian government weeks to launch any type of government-led aid package. NGO’s, on the other hand, were on the ground within days, some within hours.
Some experts believe that governments still have a role to play in aid delivery. In his book, The End of Poverty, renowned economist Jeffrey Sachs stresses the importance of bilateral transfers to support large infrastructure programs which only governments are equipped to handle. Hoogendoorn agrees in principle, but says that the outcome is unfortunately different from what one might expect. “Infrastructure is important,” he says. “Roads, electricity, these are all things that will help the country or region as a whole, even if it doesn’t make much of a difference on a community level.” But he is not convinced that giving money to governments is the best way to see such large projects completed. “There are no controls with government-to-government funding, even for large infrastructure programs. The money doesn’t actually make it to the roads or hospitals – it is siphoned off at every step of the bureaucratic process. Right now there’s a lot of money given without accountability, on the promise that something will get built.” At this he smiles wryly. “Something will get built, but it’s more likely to be a new house in Europe than a school or a hospital.”
There is the possibility that things will change. Since the Conservatives took power, they have re-instated funding to those NGOs who had been previously cut off, and have raised the amount for which they are eligible. And in the cases where the previous government matched the funds raised by NGOs by a ratio of 2:1, the new government has increased this to 3:1.
Hoogendoorn is cautiously optimistic. “It’s been encouraging,” he says. “There’s a real indication that they are listening.” But he admits there is a long way to go before Canadians will start believing that their tax dollars are really making a difference. He points out that the Nigerian vitamin scandal happened on the Conservative’s watch. “The government needs to keep finding ways to strengthen the NGO community. If they don’t ….” He trails off, shaking his head. But his meaning is plain: if they don’t, it is the suffering people of the world who will pay the consequences.
Renewing Canadians' Trust in Foreign Aid
Every year, millions of women and children in Nigeria make the long and often hazardous trek to the closest medical clinic on what are known as national immunization days. They expect to be given high dose vitamin A capsules, which will help prevent blindness and will strengthen their immune systems against deadly diseases. The $25 million in vitamin A pills are donated annually by Canada’s official international development agency, CIDA.
This year, the women and children were turned away without their vitamin A, because none of those 100 million pills actually reached the clinics – and the mothers and children – for whom they were intended. Instead, the capsules ended up for sale in pharmacies, clinics and even hair salons, masquerading as a miracle cure for HIV. The profits from their sales, we can only assume, are now lining the pockets of the Nigerian government officials who were entrusted with their safe delivery to hospitals and medical clinics across the country.
That something like this happened came as a surprise to no one in the international community. Oil-rich and human-rights poor, Nigeria is arguably the most mismanaged economy in Africa and is widely recognized as one of the world’s most corrupt countries. Robert Young Pelton, author of The World’s Most Dangerous Places, calls Nigeria a place where you need to hire criminals to protect you from the police – and he’s only slightly kidding.
What is surprising is that last year the Canadian government gave over $78 million in aid to the government of Nigeria – not to aid agencies or non-governmental organizations (NGOs) working in Nigeria, but to the Nigerian government itself – when it has proven repeatedly that it will not use those millions to improve the lives of its people.
As stories like this become more and more common, Canadians are, with good reason, growing increasingly cynical about the effectiveness of our foreign aid, even though they remain generous in their desire to help the world’s needy. A CIDA-sponsored poll indicated more than half of the population would be willing to pay an extra one percent on their taxes for foreign aid if all the money was spent on the poor. And yet, in another CIDA report, a remarkable 82% agree much of the aid given to poor countries never gets to the people who need it most. Clearly, Canadians believe the money we dole out in aid is being thrown to the wind – or, more likely, amassed in Swiss banks.
Is such cynicism inevitable? Is the system so corrupt and beyond repair the best we can hope for is that even a measly portion of what we send will get to those in need, or should we give up on sending aid altogether?
Not at all, says Ben Hoogendoorn, president of the aid agency Canadian Food for the Hungry International (CFHI) and chair of the British Columbia Council for International Cooperation. He says the solution is simple. Instead of transferring billions of dollars to other governments or multilateral agencies like the UN, CIDA should instead increase funding to smaller aid agencies and NGOs like CFHI. “The NGOs have proven, by every standard that exists, to be more effective than government-to-government or multilateral funding,” says Hoogendoorn. When asked if he thought the vitamin A scandal would have happened if CIDA had worked through an NGO, his answer was immediate: “I can’t see it. Any reputable NGO would have made sure those vitamins got to the women and children.”
This is not to say that there is no progress on the international poverty front. In last year’s foreign policy review, Aileen Carroll, the then-Minister of International Co-operation stated “the world has made significant progress in human development. The number of people living on less than a dollar a day has dropped impressively; more children, particularly girls, are in school; and democracy has continued to spread.” Yet she failed to identify who the key players were in bringing about this transformation. This kind of posturing frustrates David Collins, who is co-chair of the Micah Challenge, a national network of NGOs and churches working with the poor. “Too often,” he says, “governments take credit for the work of others. Or they attribute these successes to the large multilateral agencies such as the World Food Program. The reality is, much of the actual aid delivery is subcontracted out to NGOs that work in the field.”
The CBC’s Brian Stewart, one of Canada’s most prominent foreign correspondents, recognized this truth in his convocation address to Knox College in Toronto. Speaking specifically of Christian NGO’s, he said that they are “right on the front lines of committed humanity today and, when I want to find that front, I follow their trail. It is a vast front, stretching to the most impoverished reaches of the developing world. I have never been able to reach these front lines without finding Christian volunteers already in the thick of it. I repeat: I’ve never reached a war zone, famine group or crisis anywhere that some church organization was not there long before me.”
Despite their cynicism, or perhaps because of it, Canadians instinctively know that funding small NGOs is more effective than funding corrupt governments. In a survey conducted prior to last year’s foreign policy review, three-quarters indicated that giving money to Canadian NGOs is the most effective way for Canada to help the world’s poor, and seventy percent believe the government should set aside more money from its $12 billion surplus to give to aid agencies for disasters. Even a study commissioned by CIDA could not obscure this reality. The study found an “intrinsic value in working with small and medium-sized NGOs as they can deliver effective grassroots development programming, achieve results and also positively impact government policies and practices.”
The then-Liberal government was obviously not listening to Canadians or the recommendations from its own reports. Instead of increasing funding to NGOs, it informed over 400 of them that they were no longer eligible for government grants. The assumption seems to be that governments – both ours and those in developing countries – can deliver aid more effectively and efficiently than NGOs. And yet we have seen time and time again that the opposite is true. The South East Asian tsunami disaster is a prime example: while governments debated and discussed and prepared to act, hundreds of NGOs responded immediately. It took the Canadian government weeks to launch any type of government-led aid package. NGO’s, on the other hand, were on the ground within days, some within hours.
Some experts believe that governments still have a role to play in aid delivery. In his book, The End of Poverty, renowned economist Jeffrey Sachs stresses the importance of bilateral transfers to support large infrastructure programs which only governments are equipped to handle. Hoogendoorn agrees in principle, but says that the outcome is unfortunately different from what one might expect. “Infrastructure is important,” he says. “Roads, electricity, these are all things that will help the country or region as a whole, even if it doesn’t make much of a difference on a community level.” But he is not convinced that giving money to governments is the best way to see such large projects completed. “There are no controls with government-to-government funding, even for large infrastructure programs. The money doesn’t actually make it to the roads or hospitals – it is siphoned off at every step of the bureaucratic process. Right now there’s a lot of money given without accountability, on the promise that something will get built.” At this he smiles wryly. “Something will get built, but it’s more likely to be a new house in Europe than a school or a hospital.”
There is the possibility that things will change. Since the Conservatives took power, they have re-instated funding to those NGOs who had been previously cut off, and have raised the amount for which they are eligible. And in the cases where the previous government matched the funds raised by NGOs by a ratio of 2:1, the new government has increased this to 3:1.
Hoogendoorn is cautiously optimistic. “It’s been encouraging,” he says. “There’s a real indication that they are listening.” But he admits there is a long way to go before Canadians will start believing that their tax dollars are really making a difference. He points out that the Nigerian vitamin scandal happened on the Conservative’s watch. “The government needs to keep finding ways to strengthen the NGO community. If they don’t ….” He trails off, shaking his head. But his meaning is plain: if they don’t, it is the suffering people of the world who will pay the consequences.
Monday, June 02, 2008
Seriously??
Printed on Starbucks' new napkins:
Less napkins. More plants. More planet.
"Less" editors, too, apparently.
Less napkins. More plants. More planet.
"Less" editors, too, apparently.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Bye bye Neferkiti
I think we're going to have to get rid of our third child - Neferkiti, our Abyssinian cat. She has taken to swiping at our two-year-old's face whenever she happens to walk by. Oddly enough, Lauren still loves her, which makes me think she's going to end up as one of those women who stay in abusive relationships. Although I also (kind of) love Nefer, she's become rather annoying as of late. I don't think she's changed, but my tolerance for the world's neediest cat has only decreased as the number of children I have has increased. Before we had kids, I didn't mind in the slightest that Nefer required a good couple of hours of petting a day and slept between my husband and myself in bed. I even thought it was endearing when she would wake me up at 5 am, drooling and nuzzling my head because she wanted more petting. And I didn't know that she wanted to go outside - then inside - then outside - then inside a hundred times a day, because I was away at work. But now that I'm home all day with a 5-month-old and a toddler to look after, I could do without the neediness. The 5 am wake-up calls (especially if I've just managed to drift off to sleep after feeding Willow in the night) are not so much appreciated anymore, and after having kids attached to me all day long, the last thing I want is a cat on my lap in the evening. But it's the scratch down the side of Lauren's face - and last weeks' scratch right under her eye - that is the last straw. So bye, bye Nefer. I'm going to find her a nice old lady who lives alone and would love a warm, drooly furball to sleep on her pillow at night.
Drinking and writing
There's something about writing while slightly inebriated. Must be the fewer inhibitions ... which is probably why one feels compelled to write melodramatic emails to ex-boyfriends and the like ... not that I do, because I am currently not even the tiniest bit inebriated. I am, however, attempting to enjoy a truly appalling glass of red wine. A Painted Turtle cabsav. When I unstopped the bottle there was a small piece of garlic floating on the top - never a good sign. But since my evening plans, now that my kids are both in bed and my husband is out at a soccer game, included writing a magazine article and drinking half a bottle of red wine, I ploughed ahead with it. I'm beginning to think I should give it up as a bad job and break open the spiced rum instead, although I should save that for tomorrow's dinner of jerk chicken with a pineapple rum glaze.
Anyway, after the tortured self-doubts and soul-baring of my last post, here I am again. I've made some progress - I've sent out a query to Family Chronicle magazine for an article on getting your kids interested in their family history; I interviewed one of the admins from harrypotterfanfiction.net via MSN Messenger for my article on how the HP series not only encourages kids to read, but is also inspiring a generation of young writers as well. I now have to tweak my query for that piece based on the new info I gleaned (did you know that there are teachers in the US who use HPFF.net as part of their creative writing curriculum? And there is a whole forum on the site for people to discuss how writing fan fiction has improved their English grades) and find a market for it. The problem with starting out as a published writer is that you have to start with shitty little magazines and community newspapers. But I don't mind; I'm happy to start at the bottom and work up, provided I can get my ass in gear and actually write something more than once a year.
I've also started a writing group with a couple of friends (both YA novelists) and a fellow freelancer so that we can read and critique each other's work, offer encouragement, talk about our husbands, etc. Looking forward to that.
Part of me thinks I'm deluding myself and only setting myself up for failure, because once my mat leave runs out in October I'm going to have to get a real job to pay the bills, which will leave no time for writing. And I'm looking forward to the job I have tentatively lined up - coordinating all the refugee-serving churches and ministries in the Lower Mainland. All the same, it would be nice to be independently wealthy so that I could spend all my time writing without the pressure of actually having to make money. :)
In other news, my girlfriend Kathy from Toronto is coming out to visit me next week and I am PUMPED. Adult conversation! (no, not the XXX kind, just the kind that doesn't involve phrases like "oooh, is that a puppy?" and "say thank you, please" and "no! don't touch!").
One glass down, more to go ...
The article I'm writing tonight is for a Mennonite publication, tentatively titled "Marrying into Mennonite." Good times.
Anyway, after the tortured self-doubts and soul-baring of my last post, here I am again. I've made some progress - I've sent out a query to Family Chronicle magazine for an article on getting your kids interested in their family history; I interviewed one of the admins from harrypotterfanfiction.net via MSN Messenger for my article on how the HP series not only encourages kids to read, but is also inspiring a generation of young writers as well. I now have to tweak my query for that piece based on the new info I gleaned (did you know that there are teachers in the US who use HPFF.net as part of their creative writing curriculum? And there is a whole forum on the site for people to discuss how writing fan fiction has improved their English grades) and find a market for it. The problem with starting out as a published writer is that you have to start with shitty little magazines and community newspapers. But I don't mind; I'm happy to start at the bottom and work up, provided I can get my ass in gear and actually write something more than once a year.
I've also started a writing group with a couple of friends (both YA novelists) and a fellow freelancer so that we can read and critique each other's work, offer encouragement, talk about our husbands, etc. Looking forward to that.
Part of me thinks I'm deluding myself and only setting myself up for failure, because once my mat leave runs out in October I'm going to have to get a real job to pay the bills, which will leave no time for writing. And I'm looking forward to the job I have tentatively lined up - coordinating all the refugee-serving churches and ministries in the Lower Mainland. All the same, it would be nice to be independently wealthy so that I could spend all my time writing without the pressure of actually having to make money. :)
In other news, my girlfriend Kathy from Toronto is coming out to visit me next week and I am PUMPED. Adult conversation! (no, not the XXX kind, just the kind that doesn't involve phrases like "oooh, is that a puppy?" and "say thank you, please" and "no! don't touch!").
One glass down, more to go ...
The article I'm writing tonight is for a Mennonite publication, tentatively titled "Marrying into Mennonite." Good times.
Friday, April 04, 2008
Why I haven't been blogging
So, a lot (okay, a few) people have been coming to me lately saying "I haven't seen anything on your blog in awhile," to which I mutter something to the effect of "been busy." Which is true ... I do, after all, have a 2-year-old and a 5-month-old to raise, plus a house to keep, dinner to make, a God to pray to, books to read, refugee groups to coordinate, a mother to webcam with, a garden to weed, a conference on the church and affordable housing to coordinate, a cardiovascular system to improve, and - very occasionally - friends to see and a husband to love. And to be honest, the felt obligation to blog on a regular basis was just one more thing on my to-do list, there's nothing like more pressure and guilt about not getting things done to dampen the creative spirit. So rather than go to bed each night feeling guilty for not getting any writing done, I just decided that now is not the season for writing and that I wasn't going to even try or plan to write, which would be one less thing to feel guilty about.
However, it didn't take long for me to feel like a grape left out in the sun, or like those little lumps of play-doh that Lauren leaves in random places to dry into hard bits of clay. I have wanted to be a writer all my life, for as long as I could remember - and to contemplate giving it up, even for a season, was tantamount to the straw that broke the camel's back in the hayfield of unfulfilled dreams. I was miserable - zombie-like, in fact. It was really rather depressing for a time.
Anyway, I digress. Another reason why I haven't been posting (here) lately is because I am quite possibly the world's most insecure writing. I have no idea why (a) anyone would want to follow the mundane happenings of my life and my convoluted, unprofound thoughts and (b) anyone would want to read what is in all sincerity crap writing. Lack of confidence is almost as bad as guilt for quenching the inner muse. And - no offence to any of you who blog this way - I really don't feel like baring my soul on the internet. At least not to people I know! :) Which is why I've started an anonymous account on LiveJournal, where I can say what I actually feel and not worry that my husband or mother or potential employer is going to read it. But really, I wonder - what's the point of even that? If it's anonymous, why don't I just write in an honest-to-goodness journal or on a word document on my laptop? Why post to the Internet at all? I think it's because deep down inside I'm hoping that someone somewhere will read my stuff and comment on how fabulous it is and how they can't get enough of me. Ha!
Plus ... I like LiveJournal because of the different interest communities one can join - it's kind of a cross between Facebook and Blogger. It's kind of lonely on Blogger (oh, wait, it's lonely in real life too).
Anyway, enough about why I don't have any friends. Back to my previous digression - writing being equal to the air I breathe and all that jazz. Even though I apparently don't have time to blog, I've decided to bite the bullet and take the plunge into freelance writing (as in, for money). Okay, so it's not so much of a plunge because I'm still on maternity leave and being paid handsomely by the government for taking care of my children. But at least I've decided to stop moaning about always wanting to be a writer and actually BE a writer. Revolutionary, indeed. So I've got a query written and ready to submit (to where, I'm not yet sure), I've got two interviews lined up for next week and am working on another one for our local paper. Of course, it would be nice to start writing for the New Yorker or at least MacLeans right away, but my insecurity and a healthy dose of realism are leading me towards more ... humble markets, shall we say, in order to build up the clippings needed to break into the bigger markets. So, local papers and religious magazines it is for now, which will hopefully help me (a) become more confident and (b) improve my craft.
Which is another reason I haven't been blogging, because I've been busy actually trying to get something published.
Anyway, all that to say yes, there's a lot going on in my life; no, I'm still not convinced that anyone cares enough about it to read my blog; and maybe I'll make the switch over to LiveJournal permanent and give you all the address. Maybe.
However, it didn't take long for me to feel like a grape left out in the sun, or like those little lumps of play-doh that Lauren leaves in random places to dry into hard bits of clay. I have wanted to be a writer all my life, for as long as I could remember - and to contemplate giving it up, even for a season, was tantamount to the straw that broke the camel's back in the hayfield of unfulfilled dreams. I was miserable - zombie-like, in fact. It was really rather depressing for a time.
Anyway, I digress. Another reason why I haven't been posting (here) lately is because I am quite possibly the world's most insecure writing. I have no idea why (a) anyone would want to follow the mundane happenings of my life and my convoluted, unprofound thoughts and (b) anyone would want to read what is in all sincerity crap writing. Lack of confidence is almost as bad as guilt for quenching the inner muse. And - no offence to any of you who blog this way - I really don't feel like baring my soul on the internet. At least not to people I know! :) Which is why I've started an anonymous account on LiveJournal, where I can say what I actually feel and not worry that my husband or mother or potential employer is going to read it. But really, I wonder - what's the point of even that? If it's anonymous, why don't I just write in an honest-to-goodness journal or on a word document on my laptop? Why post to the Internet at all? I think it's because deep down inside I'm hoping that someone somewhere will read my stuff and comment on how fabulous it is and how they can't get enough of me. Ha!
Plus ... I like LiveJournal because of the different interest communities one can join - it's kind of a cross between Facebook and Blogger. It's kind of lonely on Blogger (oh, wait, it's lonely in real life too).
Anyway, enough about why I don't have any friends. Back to my previous digression - writing being equal to the air I breathe and all that jazz. Even though I apparently don't have time to blog, I've decided to bite the bullet and take the plunge into freelance writing (as in, for money). Okay, so it's not so much of a plunge because I'm still on maternity leave and being paid handsomely by the government for taking care of my children. But at least I've decided to stop moaning about always wanting to be a writer and actually BE a writer. Revolutionary, indeed. So I've got a query written and ready to submit (to where, I'm not yet sure), I've got two interviews lined up for next week and am working on another one for our local paper. Of course, it would be nice to start writing for the New Yorker or at least MacLeans right away, but my insecurity and a healthy dose of realism are leading me towards more ... humble markets, shall we say, in order to build up the clippings needed to break into the bigger markets. So, local papers and religious magazines it is for now, which will hopefully help me (a) become more confident and (b) improve my craft.
Which is another reason I haven't been blogging, because I've been busy actually trying to get something published.
Anyway, all that to say yes, there's a lot going on in my life; no, I'm still not convinced that anyone cares enough about it to read my blog; and maybe I'll make the switch over to LiveJournal permanent and give you all the address. Maybe.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Blessings
I was out at the pub tonight with a couple of girlfriends on one of my very rare excursions out of the house. It's hard to express how much I was looking forward to this evening of beer, music and adult conversation after 2 months of relative solitude in the company of a toddler and newborn. One of the girls is about my age and single; the other is older and divorced. One is about to spend four months in Africa and then go to England for two years to do her Master's. The other has just quit her job and is going into business for herself. As we talked and they shared their excitement about their lives and plans, I felt pangs of jealousy for the freedom and ease in which they are both revelling. Their lives are fluid and unrestricted; their social calendars are full - what for me was a rare event is for them a regular occurrence. And for a moment I could imagine myself throwing it all away, joining a travelling Celtic band and reliving the so-called glory days of my unfettered youth.
But as I drove home, my perspective tilted back towards reality, and I began to look forward to arriving at my suburban home, making a cup of tea, kissing my children goodnight, and settling into bed with a good book and a warm husband. These things seem unglamourous and even boring in comparison with jaunts in conflict-ridden Kenya or exciting new business ventures, and yet there is something so deeply and richly satisfying about them. I've lived that other life already - the travel, the men, the booze, the excitement - and I would never ever choose to go back there - not now I've experienced the exquisite beauty of a cooing baby and the pure laughter that rises up inside me as I watch my toddler's antics. There is so much peace to be had in a happy home, especially when you can fall into bed exhausted knowing that you had a part in the making of it.
I feel reconciled with all the "what ifs" that have been plaguing me recently - all the missed chances and unfulfilled dreams. I've come to realize that life is too big to take it all in; to do everything that catches one's fancy. "Settling" isn't necessarily a bad thing - it's more like accepting and living in peace with the path that you have chosen, or that has been chosen for you. Maybe tomorrow when I wake up I'll feel different, but right now I feel content, which is something I haven't felt in a very, very long time. So I'll stay up a little longer, and treasure the feeling while it lasts.
But as I drove home, my perspective tilted back towards reality, and I began to look forward to arriving at my suburban home, making a cup of tea, kissing my children goodnight, and settling into bed with a good book and a warm husband. These things seem unglamourous and even boring in comparison with jaunts in conflict-ridden Kenya or exciting new business ventures, and yet there is something so deeply and richly satisfying about them. I've lived that other life already - the travel, the men, the booze, the excitement - and I would never ever choose to go back there - not now I've experienced the exquisite beauty of a cooing baby and the pure laughter that rises up inside me as I watch my toddler's antics. There is so much peace to be had in a happy home, especially when you can fall into bed exhausted knowing that you had a part in the making of it.
I feel reconciled with all the "what ifs" that have been plaguing me recently - all the missed chances and unfulfilled dreams. I've come to realize that life is too big to take it all in; to do everything that catches one's fancy. "Settling" isn't necessarily a bad thing - it's more like accepting and living in peace with the path that you have chosen, or that has been chosen for you. Maybe tomorrow when I wake up I'll feel different, but right now I feel content, which is something I haven't felt in a very, very long time. So I'll stay up a little longer, and treasure the feeling while it lasts.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
Snowed In
You know, I'm not even going to try to finish that last post. My whole point was to say that it seems the important things in life are the things I never find time to do. But the fact that I was too busy to even finish my post proved my point better than I could have.
I'm in New Brunswick for the holidays and we're snowed in. My older daughter is watching the snowplow out the window with my mum. My baby is being walked around the room with my husband, who just had a chocolate-covered-banana-crepe for breakfast. I am studiously ignoring the lot of them.
I've spent a fair part of this vacation tracking down photographs of my direct ancestors. Thus far I've found photos of my grandparents, all my great-grandparents, most of my great-great-grandparents, and even one of my great-great-great-grandfather. I've been scanning and digitizing them so I can print them off when I get home. It's probably a good thing I live across the country, because otherwise I would collect and fill my home with nostalgic (and ugly) old things because I'm such a sucker for family history. But our 2-year-old home isn't quite the right setting for antiques. My cousin refinished a 200-year-old home in northern New Brunswick and decorated it with antiques collected from my grandmother and other relatives - I imagine it looks beautiful, and how wonderful it would be to be surrounded by mementos of those who have gone before. Maybe I'll give it a try in our 2-year-old house and see how it works.
I'm in New Brunswick for the holidays and we're snowed in. My older daughter is watching the snowplow out the window with my mum. My baby is being walked around the room with my husband, who just had a chocolate-covered-banana-crepe for breakfast. I am studiously ignoring the lot of them.
I've spent a fair part of this vacation tracking down photographs of my direct ancestors. Thus far I've found photos of my grandparents, all my great-grandparents, most of my great-great-grandparents, and even one of my great-great-great-grandfather. I've been scanning and digitizing them so I can print them off when I get home. It's probably a good thing I live across the country, because otherwise I would collect and fill my home with nostalgic (and ugly) old things because I'm such a sucker for family history. But our 2-year-old home isn't quite the right setting for antiques. My cousin refinished a 200-year-old home in northern New Brunswick and decorated it with antiques collected from my grandmother and other relatives - I imagine it looks beautiful, and how wonderful it would be to be surrounded by mementos of those who have gone before. Maybe I'll give it a try in our 2-year-old house and see how it works.
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