Speaking of Cyril Connolly, as I did last time. Even though he isn’t much read anymore, we still remember more than his “pram in the hall” aphorism. But are any of them true? “Whom the Gods wish to destroy, they first call promising.” I was recently in the supermarket when a kid of maybe eight […]
There is no more sombre enemy of good art than the pram in the hall. – Cyril Connolly My son Gabe and his wonderful partner Anna got married this summer. It was a joyous wedding, a moving ceremony they wrote themselves performed by a good-humoured officiant. Afterwards came a reception hosted by Anna’s brother. Good […]
So there I was in the studio, listening to actor Pascal Langdale tape the narration of my novel Mad Richard for an audio book. Born in England, educated at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in London, Pascal has a jaw-dropping range of accents and tones ready to deploy. Here was the soft voice of […]
I’m a big advocate of writers carrying notebooks. You can jot down thoughts, overheard conversations—I’m a terrible eavesdropper—sights you want to call up later. Recently, a father was trying to coax his daughter out of a car parked on our street. “If you could move at any speed beyond painfully slow, that would be very […]
The question is, how does a writer recognize what is uniquely her material? Save herself from wrong turns, dead ends, dead writing? The subject has always been central to me—an obsession—and years ago, I was able to ask two very distinguished men how it had played out in their careers. One was John Hammond, the […]
I was walking out recently, being a flaneuse on the Danforth. A flanny on the Danny. At Pape, a pigeon flew down from a store awning into the path of people heading for the subway. Turning, it flew close to the face of one woman, who didn’t even flinch, before winging around the head of […]
A day and a half in Sedona: it wasn’t much time, but our hockey team had gone to Arizona for a tournament, and we made the most of our days off. The pools at our hotels, the hot tubs, the meditation classes and massages. Then there were the hikes. For me, hiking involves looking for […]
In my last post, I wrote about researching a historical novel like Mad Richard. My serendipitious decision to pull Pat Barker’s Regeneration trilogy off the shelves provided a start. Barker was writing about a period closer to ours, the time of the First World War. Having been born in 1943, she knew a great many […]
I was scanning the shelves for a book I needed to research a script I’m writing, and my eye fell on Pat Barker’s Regeneration Trilogy. I must have read the trilogy almost twenty years ago, not long after it was collected in one volume in 1998. And for some reason, seeing it on the shelf, […]
Of all the things to find in the family boxes this weekend, as my novel Mad Richard launches: this pooch, whose photo was taken in the 1870s or 80s. Turns out it was the dog of someone mentioned in the novel: Henry Verrall. Uncle Henry Verrall, it says on the back of the photo, the […]
When I said it was a vile and racist book, I meant extraordinarily vile and deeply racist. I tried to read it: The Clansman, by Thomas Dixon, nestled so innocently in the box of inherited books. What had my husband’s grandfather been thinking, not just in buying it, but keeping it for long enough that […]
What do you do when you discover a vile and racist book in your boxes of inherited stuff? Burn it? Compost the pages on the principle of beating swords into ploughshares? Throw it in the garbage where it belongs? I’m speaking of The Clansman, a novel written in 1905 by Thomas Dixon, the basis of […]