Destination Mutable

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Have I spoken lately about the fickleness of life? Okay, well, have I spoken of it this month? John Baillie, the author of the above title (to be released worldwide on September 1st) will be my point of reference on the subject of mutability today. And the reason for this is, simply put, that this latest collection of poems by the author could just as well have been published posthumously. But, thank God or the universe or life such as it is, John is still here. Alive . . . and willing to share the words of his in-between time with those willing to hear them.

When a misdiagnosis found him living a barely-conscious life, John grabbed his pen and paper and wrote down his experiences through a series of mostly narrative poems. His amazing ability to still be able to connect with his world through the gift of imagination and creativity saw him through the final diagnosis and finally, to life, again.

In Destination Mutable, the author describes the threads that held him somewhat loosely between two states. We hear the poet questioning the importance of words themselves, all the while aware that they are his all-important link. Baillie examines hope and love, though at times these appear to be lying just outside of his reach. His mound of poems on beauty were a surprise for this reader, that he should hold true to it while questioning everything else in his life.

Destination Mutable can be ordered today on Amazon.ca, or through various other locations globally. John will be officially launching his book in early October, where I (indeed a truly humbled and honoured guest) will be sharing some of my poetry also. I will be providing those details, ici, in the near future.
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FEBRUARY

by Lisa Moore

Anansi Press.

Anansi Press (press blog)

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Reviewed by Marjolaine Hébert

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Grief. We have all had our taste of it. It is never a requested menu item, but there it is, strong and sustainable among the human range of emotions. And it won’t go away at will. It takes its own time.

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February is an insightful look into one woman’s grief twenty-six years after the drowning of her husband at sea.

But, we have all read stories of loss, haven’t we? So what, might you ask, makes February stand out from the other teary-eyed readings that already line one bookshelf of my study wall?

Through Helen O’Mara, Lisa Moore has succeeded in shedding light on the brief moments that sit on the boundaries of our consciousness, there where the most private of inner dialogues take place. How she uses the senses to describe everyday life is a unique one, and the life that is shared here is that of a woman who is on intimate terms with love and grief. This story isn’t as tearful as it is, quite simply, full of revelation about the inner workings of memory and of how we remain connected to our own life.

I suspect Moore threw out her copy of Strunk and White long ago. Her unfaithfulness to proper sentence structure, reminiscent of writers such as Ward Just and Marie-Claire Blais, leaves her readers at the mercy of the protagonist. You could say that it provides us with a backstage pass, and what is revealed in the mayhem, is life.

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Kiss the Joy as it Flies

By Sheree Fitch

Reviewed for the Winnipeg Free Press

Sheree Fitch is an educator, a literacy activist, a writer and a poet. The multi-award winning author of children’s books tries out her special kind of magic on an adult audience for the first time with Kiss the Joy As It Flies, a novel about a woman facing her own mortality.

From the start, it isn’t made clear why forty-eight year old Mercy should be so afraid for her life. And the author maintains a fashion of randomly drip-dropping information, important pieces of a puzzle provided in sparsely scattered chunks that shock us awake now and again.

Mercy Fanjoy is a teacher and a freelance journalist who pens a weekly column by the name of “Mercy’s Musings” in the maritime city of Odell. The daughter, mother, and self-made woman takes us along her winding path backwards through time, revisiting relationships lost and friendships that have survived the test of time. The family and friends in Mercy’s life are both colourful and believable. The only character that remains elusive throughout is Mercy herself.

A student once evaluated Mercy by saying “that her joy and positive attitude were suspect as well as irritating”. Her syrupy giddiness makes Mercy Beth Fanjoy – even her name tastes too saccharine on the tongue – difficult to empathize with. It is made more so given that Fitch never reveals any great depth to her everyday heroine.

Admittedly, this is the making of a good summer read. The subject matter does not deter from the chuckles throughout. And idiomatic phrases such as “feeling runny as egg yolk”, “the rhubarb flesh of breasts”, and “dust particles danced like fireflies” contribute to a language that exposes the poet as well as the children’s story writer.

Sheree Fitch is best known for titles such as There Were Monkeys in My Kitchen, and If You Could Wear my Sneakers, a book on Children's Rights commissioned by Unicef (she has been their goodwill ambassador since 1994). Dividing her time between Washington, D.C. and River John, Nova Scotia, the similarities between Fitch and her main character are evident. The maritime writer known for her perpetual smile and high-pitched laughter, and who still dots her “i’s” with hollow circles, shares personality and careers with her protagonist.

That Fitch is used to shielding her younger audiences from anything that goes bump in the night is unmistakable in her first attempt at writing adult fiction. She may inadvertently be trying to protect her adult readers from the bumps they are already on intimate terms with. What remains is a fusion of genres that defies comparison. And it makes for a light read that falls short as a true-to-life account of a woman facing her deepest fears.

In time, though not soon enough, Fitch exposes some of Mercy's underbelly. When the character is revealed as a woman capable of anger and of all those less attractive emotions that most of us live out loud on a daily basis, we are then able to connect more easily with her. As for those who inhabit Mercy’s world, Fitch succeeds in presenting characters that remind us of the humour that exists in our messy, everyday lives.

Her humour and language are both fresh and engaging, but it’s unfortunate that Sheree Fitch fails to take us all the way. Sharing a few tears with Mercy, and being allowed to touch more of her fearfulness, would have been welcome and necessary in making this tale about facing death - and life - a credible one.

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The Withdrawal Method
By Pasha Malla
House of Anansi Press/May

Reviewed by Marjolaine Hébert


It is free, requires no artificial devices, and has no physical side effects. It may, however, leave you feeling unsatisfied. Even so, reports state that most North-American women have had a partner use it. I’m talking about the withdrawal method, of course, though not necessarily Pasha Malla’s first collection of short stories by the same name.

With a title as provocative as this one, I dare you not to open the book to page one. But readers beware – it only gets stranger from here. Below its title, the book’s cover dons a technical looking picture of one male figure in a box. This much seems appropriate, since Pasha presents his characters from a definite male point of view. Reading his stories felt a bit like peeking into the author’s psyche, his female characters sharing very similar connective tissue.

There are thirteen stories in this collection, most of them delving into the male – female relationship. Evocative, imaginative, and at times haunting, Pasha presents his readers with wonderfully wacky plot lines. And despite his primarily passive characters, the endings do surprise. With honest storylines and at times somewhat pragmatic situations, the author guides us one step beyond the expected into his world of suspended disbelief. I had to look over my shoulder and behind the words some thirteen times.

As a forty-something woman, it is clear to me that Pasha Malla is a young man writing for his peers. What maintains a timeless flavour, however, are his boy-meets-girl scenarios, which at any age, it would seem, remains a conundrum. As for The Methods of Withdrawal? They were less difficult to unravel.

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