30 May 2016

Good Morning, Midnight by Jean Rhys

This post should have been done and dusted before now but a couple of outings made me forget about the laptop for a bit.  A group of us from work went to one of those escape room strategy events on Friday night.  Five of us were chosen for 'Prison Break' and the remaining four went off to try their detective skills with 'Jewel Thief'.  My group was locked in a prison cell to begin deliberating and searching for clues to unlock the cell door and then work on other clues that would unlock the main door.  The temperature on Friday was hovering around 30C so we were all a sweaty mess by the time we finally made it out of the room.  There was one clue right at the end that was so frustrating, and yet should have been so obvious - if only we could rewind that moment.  The downside is that there's so much about the experience you would like to share with friends but that would ruin things for anyone planning to give it a try themselves.  All I can say is that if you get the chance...go!

On Saturday, my husband and I went to see Love and Friendship; the latest Austen adaptation.  It's a guessing game as to how far away from Toronto some of these films will appear so we took the train in and made a day of it.  I've never read Lady Susan so the experience was all the better for the sheer enjoyment of wondering who would end up where and with whom.  The film is shot quite tightly so it's lacking those cinematic English landscapes that made Merchant Ivory films so achingly beautiful.  The trade off with Love and Friendship is that you'll spend more time laughing.  Tom Bennett as Sir James Martin is wonderful at playing the witless aristocrat.  Kate Beckinsale as Lady Susan is gorgeous in her sweeping silks but I was thrown every time she flashed her Hollywood veneers.  No one in everyday life has teeth like that now, nevermind the eighteenth century.  At any rate, the film is a terrific respite from the superhero genre crowding the marquee these days and we thoroughly enjoyed it.

Moving right along with my thoughts on Good Morning, Midnight...

'Back in Paris for a 'quiet, sane fortnight', Sasha Jensen has just been rescued by a friend from drinking herself to death in a Bloomsbury bed-sitter'.

I find it impossible to resist Bloomsbury as a setting so it was just the hook to reel me in.  And I'm glad, as the atmosphere of 'bare light bulb despair' isn't one I'm normally drawn to.  Told in a first person narrative, the reader is a voyeur into the life of a good woman who has made a series of bad choices.  Obviously Sasha's situation is more complex than that...men who were less than caring, marriage to a selfish and unstable partner and the death of their infant son have almost destroyed her and stripped away any confidence she may have once had.  In fact, Sasha isn't even her real name; she also wishes a drug existed which would make her invisible to people.

When a long-time friend gives Sasha a bit of money to lift her from her state of depression, she returns to Paris, a place where she lived for many years.  The daily routine of looking for cheap food and accommodation, and a place to drink continue, so we can only wonder if there is any hope for this middle-aged woman who thinks of drinking yourself to death as a 'bloodless killing'.

At one point, Sasha is wandering around Paris dressed in one of her last garments carrying any note of prestige.  It's a fur coat but any lustre has long since faded.  A gigolo named René notices Sasha in his sites and begins his pursuit.  Every bad choice, event, circumstance that has come before should have made Sasha run in the opposite direction but René is someone to pretend with.  René is in turns frustrated by the slow pace of his procurement of Sasha's money and intrigued by the complexity of her personality.  Eventually, even he is conflicted about what his next step should be.

It's a testament to sublime writing on the part of Jean Rhys that I kept reading.  And I should say, not just reading but riveted!  This woman drove me crazy at times and yet with every page I continued to root for a happy ending.  I felt sorry for Sasha and her spiraling condition.  The ending made me close the book and just let it lay in my lap for awhile as I mulled it over.  Then I reread the last couple of pages.

A colleague of mine wants to borrow my copy so I'll pass it on but I want it back.  There's so much more to glean from Sasha's story and several ways to interpret her thoughts and actions.  At only 159 pages Good Morning, Midnight would make an excellent book group read and Sasha Jensen is likely to stay with me for a very long time.

Jean Rhys
1890 - 1979

23 May 2016

A Pup Named Kip

We thought Deacon would be our last dog.  In a way, he's responsible for teaching us to never say 'never'.

I remember a walk we took last winter when my husband and I talked about taking trips together once Deacon had passed away.  We were dreamily making plans for the future, after our boy had lived out his natural life.  Deacon looked over his shoulder as if to say 'I'm right here, you know'.  We laughed and then apologized in the silly way you do when talking to your pet because...if they understand 'treat', 'car', 'drive', 'walk', 'play', 'toy', 'swim'...you get the idea.  We had no idea that cancer had probably already taken hold in his system.

My husband and I are the softest dog owners you could ever meet  This meant separate holidays and short outings while watching the clock.  Oh the trips we would take together one day, and just imagine the spontaneity of booking into a hotel instead of driving home simply because we could.  New hardwood floors would be nice.

Our boy has been gone nearly three months and we have no desire to book into a hotel...or plan a trip, or have shiny floors to stare blankly at.  What we do want is to held accountable to the demands of a ball of fur the size of a soccer ball.  We want our clothes to bear smears of dog spit and even the odd hole down to a playful tug.  A bit of fur in the vacuum would be nice, the more the better.  Sparkly clean floors devoid of paw prints are highly over-rated.

After a few weeks of trying to find a rescue and just missing out on one sweet boy, I called the breeder we bought Deacon from.  A litter had been born just three days before.  There were three red and white pups, three black and white - only one being male.  The photo above was sent and last week my husband and I drove for just over two hours to meet what now looked more like a guinea pig than a dog.  Once the pup nuzzled and complained about the lack of a food source he settled down for a nap in my arms.  And just like that we were smitten.

If all goes well, this little bundle of joy will come to live with us towards the end of June and we've settled on a name - Kip.

Having lost two dogs to cancer, my husband and I have been doing some research on causes.  It's been said that heredity is the gun, environment the trigger.  Deacon was obsessed with balls and would go through one every couple of weeks - they were plastic and made in China.  It's shocking that companies profess to cater to dogs with a litany of products and then put profit ahead of safety.

While we'll never know for sure what caused Deacon's cancer, losing him has taught my husband and I to question so much more than we already did.  We spent some time yesterday making homemade chew toys (youtube is full of ideas) and will make our own treats.  I home-cooked for Deacon towards the end of his life and plan to do more of that for Kip.

Reading for pleasure has been a bit slow lately but I finished reading a novel by Jean Rhys this morning and it was brilliant!  I'll post my thoughts in a few days...enjoy the long weekend!