We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves by Karen Joy Fowler

We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves by Karen Joy Fowler feels more like a memoir than any other first-person novel that I've encountered so far. 22-year-old Rosemary Cooke, a student attending the University of California at Davis, is the compelling narrator.

Rosemary confesses that she always talked too much. When she was five: "I remember Mr Bechler asking me if I was maybe in training for the talking Olympics. I was gold-medal material, he said."

She has been trained to cut out much of what she wants to say, to choose one thing out of three, and so she begins her tale in the middle.

"In 1996, ten years had passed since I'd last seen my brother, seventeen since my sister disappeared. The middle of my story is all about their absence, though if I hadn't told you that, you might not have known."

It takes Rosemary a long time to get around to telling us that her sister Fern was a chimpanzee, and that the pair of them were studied intensely during their early childhood. I don't feel like I'm spoiling the plot, because this fact is revealed on the cover blurb. It's also what drew me to read this book in the first place.

Fowler deftly tackles issues like family dynamics, the vagaries of memory, and animal welfare. We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves is an entertaining and highly original story with wonderful characters and a fascinating premise.

I listened to the Penguin audiobook [9 hours] narrated by Orlagh Cassidy.

Readalikes: Half Brother (Kenneth Oppel); All Over Creation (Ruth Ozeki) and pretty much anything by Barbara Kingsolver.

660 Curries by Raghavan Iyer

I didn't do as much reading and gardening as I had expected during my recent month of holidays, but I sure had fun in the kitchen. Cooking is something I enjoy, but working full time means I usually fall back on my old favourite dishes. Raghavan Iyer's cookbook 660 Curries inspired me to spend hours with complicated recipes, creating big piles of pans and dishes to wash... as well as tasty meals.

Iyer admits to the effort required in the introduction to Fried Potato Sandwiches (Vadaa Pav): "Let me be the first to tell you that this is a production. On the day I make it, it's all I eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner -- oh and let's not forget afternoon tea." Fried potato and pea patties are topped with a roasted spice and peanut chutney as well as a cilantro and coconut sauce in a soft bun in this recipe from Mumbai. Delicious as it sounds, I didn't attempt this version of a veggie burger because I'm not keen on deep-frying my food.

One of the recipes that I liked best was 'Drumsticks' in a Spicy Yogurt sauce with Roasted Chickpea Flour (Sing Pitta). Drumsticks are a woody vegetable that isn't available here, so I substituted asparagus, as suggested. When local asparagus is in season, we eat pounds of it for several weeks straight. (We get ours from Edgar Farms at the farmer's market in Edmonton.) I think I'll try the yogurt sauce with peas sometime; it was a hit.

This isn't a vegetarian cookbook, but with 660 recipes to choose from, you can be sure that there are plenty of meatless choices. There are no illustrations (apart from a handful of glossy photos at the beginning) yet the descriptions that preface each recipe are enough to make me salivate.

The best parts of this book are all of the tips and general information. It's interesting to read even without preparing any of the dishes. Iyer explains how as many as eight different flavours can be obtained from a single spice, depending on technique (combinations of dry-toasting, frying in oil, grinding and soaking). I've been relying on my four main masala blends for too long and Iyer inspired me to go back to using more specialized combinations for each dish. My spice grinder hasn't seen so much action in a long time!

Iyer recommends using canola oil because it "has no flavour and does not assert itself." (He erroneously states that it is extracted from canola flowers, but it is actually from the seed.) I never use canola for two reasons: a) it's impossible to get GMO-free canola in North America and b) my sweetie and I both find it unpleasantly stinky. I went online to find out why other people don't complain about canola's fishy odour and learned that only a minority of people are sensitive to its smell. I used sunflower oil instead.

Anyway, I'm grateful to Lynne Rosetto Kasper, host of The Splendid Table podcast, for interviewing Iyer and bringing 660 Curries to my attention.

A Queer and Pleasant Danger: A Memoir by Kate Bornstein

Nobody can accuse transgender activist and performance artist Kate Bornstein of having a boring life. Her memoir A Queer and Pleasant Danger is "the true story of a nice Jewish boy who joins the Church of Scientology and leaves twelve years later to become the lovely lady she is today." Never a dull moment, from signing a billion-year contract with Scientology, to being a willing sex slave to a pair of West Coast lesbians.

Bornstein is comfortable with paradox, writing, "Paradox? Bring it on." "I was born male and now I've got medical and government documents that say I'm female -- but I don't call myself a woman, and I know I'm not a man... " Refusing to claim a gender has got her into trouble with other transwomen. She also took a controversial stand on women-only spaces that forbade admission to transwomen: "I thought every private space has the right to admit whomever they want -- I told them I thought it was their responsibility to define the word woman. And I told the transwomen to stop acting like men with a sense of entitlement. So everyone was pissed off at me."

Kate is attracted to women, so she hangs with lesbians. I know from a lesbian-identified transwoman friend living in England that it isn't easy finding community. There's also the example of Judy, the transsexual in Anne Wheeler's film, Better than Chocolate. Anyway, things got even more complicated for Kate when Catherine, her partner for several years, decided to become David. "I was now a lesbian with a boyfriend, but I wasn't a real lesbian and he wasn't a real boy -- so did that make us a heterosexual couple the other way round? Don't talk to me about paradox."

I found the Scientology stuff the most shocking aspect of this book. Long before sex-reassignment surgery, Bornstein was an officer on L. Ron Hubbard's flagship yacht, the Apollo. He married another officer, Molly, and when they were expecting a child, they were transferred to land duty. "Molly and I were a pair of perfectly trained theologically guided missiles." "Before they fired us out on our mission, we had to prove to the Action Chief that we knew precisely where our mission fit into Ron's plan to take over the planet." Their daughter Jessica was born in 1973.

Bornstein was later excommunicated and hasn't seen Jessica since she was about 8. A Queer and Pleasant Danger is dedicated to Jessica and to Bornstein's two grandchildren, whom she has never met, since they are all still within the cult. Bornstein hopes that Jessica will read this book at some point... which makes things awkward when it comes to sex. Readers are given the opportunity to skip over the graphic descriptions of sadomasochistic sex play. The e-book has a link, while the paper edition advises "please skip to the middle of page 218." The graphic part is only 2 and a half pages long.

Anorexia, cutting and suicide are some of the other very personal subjects that Bornstein tackles honestly in this memoir. She ends with a handful of life lessons as an offering to her daughter. "Don't be mean" is my favourite. The one that surprised and delighted me most is "Watch and read a lot of science fiction and fantasy -- the good stuff." (Not mediocre stuff by L. Ron Hubbard.)

I plan to follow that advice. It just so happens that I've been wanting to re-watch the Star Wars movies, spurred on by Camille Paglia's Glittering Images (where she calls George Lucas the greatest living artist) and Jeffery Brown's hilarious books, Darth Vader and Son and Vader's Little Princess (which may cause me to giggle at inappropriate moments when I see the films).

Bornstein is a brave and funny gender outlaw and her memoir is unforgettable.

A Thousand Mornings by Mary Oliver

Mary Oliver is my favourite American poet and today is Independence Day in the USA, so I've chosen to write about Oliver's newest collection, A Thousand Mornings, from my stack of finished books awaiting blog review.

Oliver has won many literature prizes, including the Pulitzer and the National Book Award. She is a lesbian who doesn't write about sexuality; her concern is the connection humans have with the natural world. She celebrates life and beauty with simple wonder.

A single sentence comprises the entirety of 'Poem of the One World:'

"This morning / the beautiful white heron / was floating along above the water / and then into the sky of this / the one world / we all belong to / where everything / sooner or later  / is a part of everything else / which thought made me feel / for a little while / quite beautiful myself."

I picked up A Thousand Mornings at Village Books in Bellingham WA when I attended Booktopia last month. I mostly read library books, but I buy several books every month. Almost all of my purchases are given away, either after I've read them or because they were intended as gifts from the start. I rarely reread and I don't feel strongly about keeping my own collection. My rooms would all be full to the ceilings if I did! I make exceptions for my very favourites, however, including Mary Oliver's poetry. The calming effect her words have on me never wears out. I can count on them to instill a feeling of joy, peace and gratitude. My soul needs this. A Thousand Mornings will join West Wind and What Do We Know on a shelf close to my bed, where I can pick them up anytime.

Doll Bones by Holly Black

C.S. Lewis said, "A children's story that can only be enjoyed by children is not a good children's story in the slightest." Holly Black, coauthor of The Spiderwick Chronicles, has written the good kind of story. Doll Bones is a horror adventure for children in Grade 4 to 7 that can be appreciated by readers of any age.

Friends Poppy, Zach and Alice have been having such a good time creating ongoing fantasy scenarios that they are reluctant to stop, even now that they are twelve and too old to still be playing pretend games with toys.

A creepy porcelain doll is at the center of their final quest. The doll that comes alive is not as scary as Chucky from the movie Child's Play, but she is still pretty spooky. Poppy has seen a particular spot in a dream:

"We look for a willow tree," said Poppy. "You know, one of the ones with the long branches and the leaves that hang down."
"A weeping willow?" Zach put in.
Poppy nodded. "I think so, but I think regular willows have leaves that hang down too, just not as far."
"Okay," Alice said. "Depressed-looking trees. Got it. If it seems droopy and miserable at all, I'm calling you to confirm its willowy status."

The three get help from a pink-haired librarian who wears yellow shoes with bows on them. (I love encountering librarian heroes!)

Doll Bones would make an exciting family read-aloud. Ethical issues that arise could fuel further discussion. An example is Zach's father's behaviour, when he throws away some precious things belonging to Zach, then later explains: "I thought you needed to be tougher. But I've been thinking that protecting somebody by hurting them before someone else gets the chance isn't the kind of protecting that anybody wants." Serendipitously, the same sentiment was expressed in the audiobook I was listening to at the time: His Illegal Self (Peter Carey), and in the ebook memoir I had on the go: A Queer and Pleasant Danger (Kate Bornstein).

Readalikes for Doll Bones: The Crossroads (Chris Grabenstein); Amy's Eyes (Richard Kennedy); and Wait Till Helen Comes (Mary Downing Hahn).

Nocturne: Dream Recipes Varied and Easy to Make (in just 5 minutes) by Isol

I was up very late watching spectacular Canada Day fireworks over the North Saskatchewan river in Edmonton, so a book about sleep is perfect for this morning.

Nocturne is the singular creation of Isol, an Argentine illustrator who received the Astrid Lindgren Memorial Award earlier this year. More artifact than book, Nocturne is coil-bound at the top and has a base that unfolds to make it stand sturdily at bedside. Two different whimsical illustrations are superimposed on each page, one printed with glow-in-the-dark ink.

"Before you go to sleep, open the book to the dream you've chosen and place it on your night table under a bright light. (A dream is like a moth that loves to get close to the light when no one is looking.) Wait for a least 5 minutes, and don't make any noise or you will scare the dream away. [...] Turn out the light! You will see the luminous traces that the dream leaves behind on the page. Look for as long as you like, then close your eyes and follow the dream to its hiding place."

Included are: the boring book Dream (with giant animals peering down at a reader who has fallen asleep); the Dream of going far away (to find friendly aliens on another planet); and the Dream underwater (complete with mermaid). In the Dream of growing, a girl waters three seeds under a tiny orange sun. The phosphorescent image shows the girl riding the tops of the grown plants, with the sun in the location of her heart. Magical!

The Cats of Tanglewood Forest, another children's book that I've read recently, coincidentally mentions dreams. In De Lint's book, under the branches of an ancient beech, "cats would come to dream and be dreamed." Nocturne offers a wonderful opportunity for adults to talk about dreams and dreaming with young people from about Grade 2 and up.

Children who enjoy Nocturne might also like The Dreamer (Pam Munoz Ryan) with its surreal illustrations by Peter Sis; Stormy Night (Michele Lemieux) about the thorny philosophical questions that keep us from sleeping; and The Rabbit Problem (Emily Gravett) another quirky book that is more of an artifact than container for a story.

Susceptible by Genevieve Castree

Happy Canada Day! I've been celebrating Canadian books every day of this long weekend (see yesterday's Sister Mine and Saturday's The Cats of Tanglewood Forest) and have saved Susceptible ("a trans-Canadian exploration of identity" according to the back cover) for the big day today.

In her graphic novel Susceptible, Genevieve Castree has created a fictionalized autobiography in two separate editions, French and English. Goglu, the central character, has been drawn in lovely brush washed ink to resemble Castree's self-portraits (which can be seen here on her blog). Her style is a little like Mary Engelbreit's, with big eyes and lots of intricate patterns, but her story is sometimes harrowing. Goglu, btw, is the French word for a bobolink (and Castree is also a musician).

The opening four pages are the most metaphorical of the book. Goglu muses about her mental health and whether or not her depressions are innate, inherited or acquired as a result of life's difficulties. She shows herself growing from babyhood into adulthood while being gradually consumed by vegetation, then breaking free of the plants. "I have pulled myself so far away from my family that it is almost like I don't belong to it anymore." According to her interview in Comics Journal, this corresponds to Castree's real life.

I love all the detail in Castree's realistic images. The fourteen women massacred at the Ecole Polytechnique are each shown as individuals, with their own tastes in clothing and hair, as they lie dead together. When a panel is text-heavy, the background is usually plain, but the figures remain specific; messy hair, expressive faces, particular clothing. In the scene below, Goglu is wearing the kind of chequered knitted slippers that I remember being popular at that time. (I still have a pair.)

Goglu's mother and stepfather are called Amere and Amer, the feminine and masculine words for bitterness. They qualify for a worst parents award. Amere is an alcoholic with wild mood swings. Amer is so disengaged that he is irritated by any interaction from talkative Goglu, even a simple greeting. During one of their many bouts of marital disagreement, Amere and Amer tell Goglu that they have decided to break up. Amer says, "We don't want you to think that this is all your fault... it's half your mother's fault and half your fault..."

Goglu's birth father Tete d'oeuf (Egghead) abandoned their family in Quebec and moved to Vancouver Island, so he didn't have much to do with her until she was a teenager. When Goglu visits him in Malahat, she experiences the shock of difference between city life and Tete d'oeuf's tiny house in the forest. The interior and exterior settings in both places add to the realism of Castree's poignant story. As with the women who were massacred, Castree illustrates her father's cats as individuals.

Since I read this back-to-back with The Cats of Tanglewood Forest, I compared Castree's cats to those of Charles Vess. Castree's cats look like Japanese art while Vess' remind me of classic children's picture books from the western hemisphere. I like them both.

Two-page spread by Charles Vess in The Cats of Tanglewood Forest.

The final images in Susceptible are contained within round frames, reminding the reader to circle back to the message in the initial pages of the book. Goglu survives her traumatic upbringing and is free to make her own way in the world. I highly recommend this haunting graphic novel.