One of my blog intentions for 2021 was to duplicate here my Books Read This Month post from Materfamilias Reads, I had intended to try this doubled-posting approach until the end of the year and then evaluate whether it was worth the effort of keeping up a separate Book Blog, however precious that small community has become to me.
Blogger (Google) sped up that decision for me by announcing that the Feedburner email subscription service as we’ve been using it will terminate in July. They did me a favour, as you can see, by pushing me into this move to WordPress. Blogger was free, and it was easy to use, and I built a great community of readers over my 14 years there. Moving to WordPress has meant paying for hosting, paying to have the Blog “migrated”; it’s also meant extra work and stress just to get here, and there will be more of that as I learn my way around and better organize what goes where and what simply has to go.
But already I’m loving form and function of the new Materfamilias Writes, and based on the positive comments I know you find it a big improvement as well. So much so that it no longer makes sense to maintain Materfamilias Reads as a separate blog, especially since its subscription service will be discontinued in little over a month.
So I have an announcement: as I write this, all the posts from Materfamilias Reads are being moved over here, where you can soon find that archive as part of the Reading category — where all future Books Read This Month posts will also appear.
If you’re impatient to know what I read in April and what I thought of those books, you should still be able to find that post here for now. And I’ve added the list of the books (without any of the commentary) at the bottom of this page. But the full post should be landing here soon as the most recent post in the Reading category, and from now I’ll only be posting here. Bye-bye, Blogger. . .
I’m a bit nervous about what the “migration” of all these posts might do to the email subscription service, especially now that it seems to be working so well. But so far, all the (small) glitches have eventually been corrected and after this last step, I can stop writing about the blog and just start writing — on the blog. (My biggest worry is that MailChimp will send out all the posts being migrated, as if they were new posts, but Phil at PipDig tells me we can avoid that by adjusting that service until we’ve nestled all the MaterfamiliasReads posts into their new home. All should be done by the end of the week.)
Meanwhile, some back-alley wandering because Vancouver isn’t all seawall walks and blooming neighbourhoods and snow-capped mountains, you know. . .
I took these photos a week or two ago, walking home after picking up a book order at Massy Books , a 100% indigenous-owned bookstore that I’m ridiculously lucky to live within walking distance of (you’re lucky, too, because they have an online shop as well, and they stock a tempting range of new and used, best-seller and out-of-print, including rare books ). New books tucked in my backpack, I was pulled into this alley by a mural. Eight Immortals Crossing the Sea (created by the Bagua Artist Association) is one of a series of murals commissioned by the City of Vancouver as a public artwork project two years ago. You can read more about that here.
Besides great bookstores and cool little restaurants, this neighbourhood (not so far from my own, at least geographically) hosts more than it deserves of what the photo below expresses, and I looked discreetly away, as I walked through the lane, from a doorway where money was being exchanged for drugs. . .
So it’s heartening to see recognition that Beauty, Art, Colour, along with encouraging, uplifting stories might contribute to lightening that load of fatigue and malaise. And that the Art and the Stories are drawn from the Chinese culture of the immigrants (and their descendants) who built this neighbourhood (Vancouver’s Chinatown was a thriving, bustling community with a plethora of businesses, full of colour, movement, and delicious (if foreign, exotic, to me, a girl from a neighbouring small city) aromas when I was growing up; still so, in fact, until the last few decades when the Chinese community (particularly newer members, and younger ones) began to disperse to other parts of the city — and to nearby Richmond).
I’m embarrassed to admit that I know little of Chinese mythology. But I popped the mural’s title (bottom photograph) in my browser and found numerous sources that, collectively, gave me to understand that these “eight immortals,“ each with his or her own talisman or special ability, were on their way home from a celebration. Confronted by turbulent waves in an angry sea, they each used their individual powers and were able to make the crossing safely. Apparently, the story is often used to emphasize the contribution an individual can make to collective success — or simply to inspire us to draw on our own special power.
As I’ve been putting this post together, I’ve been remembering a set of figurines that were ranged along the mantel above the fireplace when I was small. They belonged to my mother, and I think she must have bought them with her teacher’s salary when she was single, that year or two between finishing Normal School (teacher’s college, at the time) and marrying my father. Clearly Asian, these figures, all garbed in long robes, fabric folds rendered in porcelain (hmmm, more likely ceramic, given her teacher’s salary). I vaguely recall that their number was significant, and I like to imagine now that perhaps they might have been representations of the eight immortals, although they come back to me in tones of cream and celadon and dove grey. And they exuded stillness, tranquility, which is unlike the more energetic poses I see when I Google “eight immortals figurines” and click “Images.”
Where had she found these, and why had she wanted them, and how did she afford them, and what did she know of the stories the figures represented? Did I ever ask? Did she ever have time to answer? By the time I was six, I had five younger siblings; when I was ten there were nine of us; I was fifteen when my youngest sister was born. If I ever broke one of those figurines, I’ve completely forgotten, but year by year, child by child, accident by accident, their number dwindled. At some point they moved from the mantel to the top of the piano and then to a corner of the bookshelf high above the secondhand set of encyclopedias and, one year, the fishbowl of guppies.
I was 16 when we moved to a bigger house, and I can’t picture those silent, long-robed figures there. Instead, my mother’s collection of Hummel children with rolling pins at a kitchen counter or climbing apple trees or carrying a small ladder had grown — far beyond her interest or appreciation for them, she confessed to me years later. But having once admired and bought one Hummel herself, they became the go-to for birthday and Christmas gifts, not just from my dad, but from her children as well, pooling our allowances and newspaper route and berry-picking earnings.
We’d forgotten that she had once had other interests, ones that we scarcely fathomed. . .
I wish I’d known to ask more, while there was still time . . .
Funny where a detour down a back alley can take you, isn’t it?
I hope you’ve enjoyed wandering down a Vancouver back street with me — thanks for indulging my detour down memory lane. . . .
Below, the list of books I read in April. Remember, you can still read the full post (with my brief reviews of/response to each book) at Materfamilias Reads for a while longer, but it will soon be moved to the Reading category on this blog.
27. The Actress, Anne Enright. Literary fiction; Mother-daughter novel; Women’s lives; Theatre; Dublin; Mental health
28. The Adventures of Isabel, Candas Jane Dorsey. Mystery/Thriller; Pop Culture; LGBTQ;
29. The Mournable Body, Tsitsi Dangaremba. Literary fiction; Women’s Lives; Africa; Post/Colonialism
30. The Dead Season Christobel Kent. Mystery; Set in Florence; Aging protagonist; Longstanding Marriage
31. The Museum of Modern Love, Heather Rose. Literary fiction; NYC Art world; Marina Abramovič; Marriage
32. House of Names, Colm Toibin Literary fiction; Greek myth retold
33. The Benefit of Hindsight, Susan Hill. Mystery; Simon Serrailler series; set in England
And now, as usual, I welcome your comments. Do you know much about the Eight Immortals? Any recommended sources about them to offer me? Thoughts about lost artifacts from our personal past?
I’m loving your new blog and, as you would know from Insta, I enjoyed the wonderful image of the Chinese girl that you posted recently. The extra mural images in this post are also delightful and I love that the texture of the wall’s finish adds a great deal to the charm of the murals.
I too wish I’d asked my parents lots of questions, particularly about their lives before marriage and parenthood, when I had the chance.
I attended a session with Heather Rose at the Sydney Writer’s Festival last month. She was very engaging and down to earth. If you enjoyed Museum of Modern Love you might consider adding her newer book, called Bruny, to your reading list. I’ve not read it yet but I gather it’s quite different to Museum. This is an extract from the publisher’s website:
“Bruny is a searing, subversive novel about family, love, loyalty and the new world order. It is a gripping thriller with a jaw-dropping twist, a love story, a cry from the heart and a fiercely entertaining and crucial work of imagination that asks the burning question: what would you do to protect the place you love.”
Author
I so agree about murals drawing texture from the walls they’re painted on.
Lucky you! to have attended Heather Rose’s session (the whole idea of a Writer’s Festival — of any kind of gathering en masse In Person!– what a dream right now!). After MOML, I borrowed an earlier novel of hers — The Butterfly Men from the library and will go right now to see if they have Bruny as well. Thanks for the recommendation!
Oddly, I was thinking about a ribbon plate my mother had. She loved it but it got broken and it was badly fixed; nevertheless, she kept it. I disliked it intensely, especially because it was so clumsily stuck back together and, after she died, it became my immediate focus of fury and I stuffed it straight into a bin at the first opportunity. I am sure a psychiatrist would have a field day with that. So many ornaments from my childhood vanished over the years but I kept a few when sorting out mum’s possessions and use them now – a miniature, a copper plate which holds my jewellery, a tea caddy (behind me), a pretty jug. Plus random items of cutlery, smaller than the current makes, but fitting the hand excellently. They have morphed from Mum’s to Mine now. Just like when I look in the mirror. Memory and the past.
I enjoyed the vicarious walk with you and the trip down memory lane. Over this past Winter I brought out of storage some Limoges china which had belonged to my mother. All during my childhood it was kept in a china cabinet in the dining room. I remember as a small child it was used for special occasions, like holidays but for many years even though our family hosted all the holidays for the family it ceased to be used. I asked my mother about this and her answer was that it was “only family” in attendance, so why bother. I did insist it be used when as a teenager I had invited a young man to dinner with whom I had a huge crush. My mother did tend to save things for special occasions which of course never happened. I have tried over the years to overcome this. Hoping that in the near future I can gather my family around table for a meal. Darby in New York
Author
So your mother not only saved the Limoges, intact, for you, but she also taught you when it was important to use it. Of course, you might interpret that teaching differently that she intended 😉 I hope you can gather your family around a table beautifully set it with for a meal very soon.
Oh, the questions I wish I had asked, too, before loved ones were gone. Have been, secretly, trying to mend my ways since my mother got very ill 18 months ago. Each time I phone now from London,I plan before the call begins, one question I would love to know the answer to about her, her parents’ past, my father’s past, etc.. I casually bring it up alongside a vague inkling about some of the answers I might know and get her to expand on it. Man, the things I have learned.
A habit I got from her is scribbling snippets of conversationsa while listening, as a kind of doodling, while talking on the phone. With her, now I take proper notes rather than just scribbling a few words. If she hears the pen or pencil scratching across the paper, she must assume I am just doodling and writing snippets of what she says, as usual. I keep what I have written, share things verbally with my sister and a cousin. If for one second she thought I was trying to gather Intel, (while I can so I do not miss the opportunity as I did with some relatives before they died), she would clam right up, as she is a reserved Yankee, and of a generation where talking too much about feelings is a place of discomfort sometimes.
I also come prepared to the conversation to bring up a memory I have of something funny my father or grandfather said, or a pleasant vacation we had, etc., which prompts her to add to my memory with her details….and I write it down. It means so much to have this information, and to get it in a non-direct way, so that the claim shells don’t bang shut!
Great story about the figurines in your house: they migrated from location within the home, they got broken, was it a pang for her when they did, or had she not hold them with high sentiment? So clearly you remember them, are you lucky enough to have one, or does one of your siblings? Might be something fun to sketch or paint. A.in London
Author
What a smart approach, systematic yet casual enough that it won’t feel forced or at all intrusive to your mother. And I love that you’re recording this as an extension of a scribbling/doodling habit you picked up from her . . . I actually do the same thing. Or used to, rather, when we still had a landline. I’d find myself jotting down words or phrases grabbed from the conversation, but not because I was trying to remember them, just a kind of doodling, as you say.
As for the figurines, I checked with my siblings and apparently, a few survivors did move to our next house. I was 16 when we moved there and busy with extra-curricular activities and part-time job and getting ready to begin university the following year — not as attentive as my younger siblings, two sisters in particular. And it turns out that one sister has two surviving figurines and has promised to send me a photo of them — in which case I would probably sketch it, just as you suggest.
Love that story of your mum’s figurines. Why did she love them? Amazing, as you say, that as children we sometimes forgot our mums even had other interests before us. Although as the youngest child, instead of the oldest like you, I benefited from a mum with more time to chat about things long past. I remember asking her question after question while she did the ironing when the older kids were at school. This was before I went to school myself, and she began to work outside the home. After that those peaceful story-time interludes had to wait many years. P.S. I oved Anne Enright’s Actress and liked the latest Susan Hill.
Author
Isn’t it interesting? There are some stories that I learned and my younger siblings didn’t because the memories being recounted were fresher in my parents’ mind and held more significance, I think. But it’s also true that during the years I was most able and willing to listen, understand, and remember. . . they were often very busy. So there’s an entire complementary memory bank held by the younger ones. . .
I’ve only read three of Enright’s books, but so impressed at how different is the tone of each one. What a writer!
The Simon Serrailler was good, for fans of the Serrailler family . . . perhaps not so much as a stand-alone, right?
The stucco looks like hand-made paper.
Yes, stuff, collections and other, and our relationship to it. Or as my mother calls it ‘things’. My things.
Different word choice with different status. Could write a long article and with some (Gladwell) luck stretch it into a book. But instead will just let the thoughts whirl around until something else comes along to replace them. (likely within five minutes…ha!)
Feels like Friday so I will wish you bon weekend, one day early 🙂
Author
It does! I wouldn’t have thought of/articulated that, but as soon as you wrote it, I recognized the effect. Tbanks!
Things. Indeed. . . Cultural theorist Mieke Bal has done some interesting work on collecting as narration (gross simplification, but this is a reply to a comment. Not a post. I have to remind myself sometimes 😉 Because sometimes, like you, I am in danger of “stretching it into a book.” Instead, I will indulge my magpie mind. . .
Thanks, It’s the weekend now and your wish for me is coming true. Hope you’re having a good weekend as well!
Loved this post and your thoughts of your mother…so poignant. We are blessed to still have our Mom who turned 94 a few weeks ago. She is sharp as a tack and has recently opened up more about her teenage experience in a WWII internment camp. Two of her daughters took her to a reunion back in 2016 and she was the oldest one of a few that made it. Her memory was fantastic and she provided much information to the academics who were there to interview the former internees. She even located the foundation of the 10’x15’ room where she lived with her parents for 3 years. The current, local high school had redrawn the map of the camp that held up to 10,000 individuals. They even put up street signs!
Currently, her life is being featured in a collage of photos at an historic Japanese garden in Saratoga, California. One of her daughters is on the Board of Hakone Japanese Garden. Now…her daughters and granddaughters are getting ready to take her on a trip to her favorite Central California coast area. We are planning on a lot of conversation, wicked card game playing, and eating fantastic food.
Thank you, Frances, for reminding me what a treasure this is. Our relationship was not the best during my growing up years. In these past decades, we have both softened and have spent much more fun time together, just the two of us. I am so thankful.
And…I did receive an email this morning, alerting me to your newest post! YAY!
Author
I’m so pleased to have you here, Charlene — glad you got the email!
How wonderful that your relationship with your mother has deepened so meaningfully in the last decades — she sounds amazing, still so vital at 94. And resilient — what a sorry part of history she lived through. Such important work she’s participating in, making sure that story gets told.
I was running out of good books to read and remembered your blog, thought to myself I wonder what you are reading/recommending? So googled and found you. Picked Susan Hill. Just finished book 10 of The Simon Serrailler set of books by Susan Hill. I have enjoyed listening to them. Susan Hill has brought all the characters to life and I am looking forward to her latest book coming out in October. Thank you.
Author
I’m so pleased to read this, Jenny! It gives me incentive to hurry up with my Books I Read in June post — should have that up in the next day or two. . .