Writer Mark Lavorato sets several daunting challenges for himself with the ambitious Being Cedric. His title character Cedric Johnson, middle-aged insurance broker, variously estranged from family, friends and former associates, isn't particularly sympathetic - which is fine and true to life and all, but then perhaps something else might be needed to draw readers in. There are other characters with which one can establish some interest or understanding, but none of those characters are involved and sustained throughout the story.

Then there's the matter of Cedric's rather unique problem: the readers is to believe he is having physical flashbacks to key moments in his past, going back as far as childhood. He can't change the outcome of those events, but he can view and assess them in the moment with full knowledge of their impact and the presumed wisdom of age. Can this problem come to attain some symbolic heft, transcend gimmickry to achieve something more profound? Early on this strange journey, the reader might be piqued but not entirely certain.

So, Lavorato's writerly dilemmas in turn create some considerable challenges for his readers. Those challenges freight the book with vaguely discordant notes well into the first several segments, each consisting of a few stanzas of poetry and two prose pieces set in different time frames. However, readers who persevere with this somewhat cumbersome structure and at times thorny novel/linked short stories hybrid will be rewarded with the book's surprising emotional payoff.

Is it a spoiler of sorts to suggest that with each successive chapter or segment, it becomes increasingly likely that while he's the title character, Cedric isn't the protagonist? It's an interpretation that does help to remove the distraction of Cedric and his predicament and get to the heart of some more interesting character studies, such as his third-grade teacher, a former landlady, a disgruntled ex-business partner, an emergency room physician and most poignantly, his estranged daughter. Those character studies, while uneven, offer some absorbing and satisfying moments in this book.

While they're meant to be part of the connective tissue of the book, the poetry sequences in each chapter suffer from unwieldy structure and phrasing in places, not really deepening our understanding of the related prose sections. Interestingly, the most stirring poetry in the book isn't in these sequences, but in a discussion about human connection and poetry towards the end of the book, which includes this soaring evocation:

"Poetry is being deaf to the extravagant choir that is behind you, below you, above you. But singing anyway. It is the collective and soundless cacophony of our solitary melodies, which is humming, even now, ringing in our ears with its almost perfect silence."

Perhaps that's the clue. Whether intentional or not, the awkward poetry sequences end up being a lovely illustration of what a spiritual panacea writing poetry can be. Writing poetry seems to have been comforting and clarifying for at least one of the characters brushed by Cedric in his earthly and unearthly travels. By the same token, whether intentional or not, the at best glancing connections from chapter to chapter are a form of mourning for connections lost or never really made. It makes it worth forging to the end of this uneven but intriguing and at times touching book.

Thank you to Brindle & Glass and the author for providing a review copy of Believing Cedric, by Mark Lavorato.

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In learning to slow down to better appreciate my dogs' perception of our shared world, Alexandra Horowitz has also taught me to slow down for my own benefit. It's no longer too cold, I'm no longer too tired, I'm no longer in a roaring hurry to get home to watch the "At Issue" panel (and probably raise my blood pressure anyhow), if my dogs need to take measure of the world through their own gauges, via some good, long, ruminative sniffs.

In its absorbing and entertaining examination of the unique human-canine bond, Horowitz's Inside of a Dog charmingly balances the scholarly and scientific with the personal and whimsical. This is one of my favourite explorations of how dogs and people can so effectively, happily and affectionately co-exist.

Human and animal cognition expert Horowitz spells out in down to earth fashion a practical and enlightening approach to optimally and respectfully sharing our lives with another species. Her science/technical examination of differences between wild and domesticated species and their perceptions of their lives and the lives of those with whom they share their existence is accessible without feeling oversimplified or condescending. She couples it with a sweet, wistful personal recounting of the dogs in her life, which serves to illustrate and underpin the scientific themes without ever feeling forced or cloying.

Horowitz tackles concepts that are certainly thought provoking for dog owners and lovers, but I'm guessing (because I can't be other than a dog lover) are also instructive to other animal lovers or others just interested in our relationship to the species with whom our paths cross. Most elucidating is the discussion about umwelt as distinct from the dangers of anthromorphizing, where we attribute human characteristics and reactions to animal behaviour, and allow that interpretation to inform how we train, interact with and attempt to understand our pets. Umwelt, on the other hand, accounts for different creatures with different physiology, sensibilities, experiences and more processing and reacting to the same environment in very divergent ways.

Umwelt is an important concept in The Tiger, the acclaimed non-fiction bestseller by John Vaillant. Vaillant uses the concept to pointedly avoid characterizing the behaviours of the tiger in the story as having human motivations, such as the urge for revenge, and weaves that appreciation of different interpretations of the same world and circumstances into a compelling tale and environmental paean.

Horowitz dials down the application of umwelt to the small, the domestic, the practical, but still with a profundity surprisingly comparable to Vaillant's.

The parcel of scientific facts we have collected allows us to take an informed imaginative leap inside of a dog - to see what it is like to be a dog; what the world is like from a dog's point of view.

We have already seen that it is smelly; that it is well peopled with people. On further consideration, we can add: it is close to the ground; it is lickable. It either fits in the mouth or it doesn't. It is in the moment. It is full of details, fleeting, and fast. It is written all over their faces. It is probably nothing like what it is like to be us.

Horowitz literally illustrates how warmly approachable Inside of a Dog is. While making notes of scientific observations of dog behaviour, she was often inclined to doodle and the results depicted her subjects. She incorporates many of those whimsical line drawings throughout the book, forging a heartwarming connection with every reader and fellow dog lover.

See also:

• Inside of a Dog book and author site

• Conflicting Gestures of Affection
  Hugs have the opposite meaning to dogs

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"With no small amount of trepidation, I lay open here the first page of my diary ­ high-­schoolish stabs at intellectualism, fleeting girlish obsessions, deliberately obscure annotations and all. After many failed adolescent attempts at keeping a journal, the summer after my junior year in high school, I finally found a format I could adhere to: Never mind describing the back-and-lack-of-forths of unrequited crushes and falling-outs with friends. I decided to list the books I read instead."

Pamela Paul
Essay, My Life With Bob
Keeping Track of Reading Habits With a ‘Book of Books’
New York Times
April 13, 2012

Pamela Paul's essay warms my heart. When our ways of engaging with and keeping track of books is becoming increasingly digital - even "in the cloud", not tangibly or physically connected to us - how lovely is it to see a paper diary with handwritten entries capturing someone's life in reading? As soon as I saw this picture in my paper copy of the New York Times Sunday Book Review. I immediately connected with the picture and the essay because I've been doing the same thing as Pamela for close to 30 years (gulp).

I have a battered little bound diary in which I have been recording my reading since I graduated in 1983 from the University of Waterloo with a BA in Honors English (co-op). Surprisingly, I was not at all weary of all the reading I did as a student, and continued merrily along right after graduation. My first few entries in my Book of Books are:

April 28, 1983
Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov (reread)

May 6, 1983
Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh

May 20, 1983
Jude the Obscure by Thomas Hardy

... and on it goes from there. (Click on the picture accompanying this post to glimpse a couple of pages from 1989.) My only regret is that I didn't start keeping a Book of Books sooner.

The spine on my Book of Books has come unglued on one side in all that time, but it still holds a place of honour on the shelf over my home office desk. I take it down and record my latest book completed as part of the beloved ritual of adding another book to one of my fondest memory banks of all.

Twitter, Goodreads, Bibliocommons and their ilk allow me to connect with other readers, for which I'm immensely grateful. My Book of Books allows me to connect with my own personal history as a reader, which is priceless.

See also:

Book of Books (BOB) Pinterest board
I've started capturing pictures of people's gorgeous, textured, much loved book diaries. If you would like me to pin your book diary to this collection, leave a comment here with a link.

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In recent months, I've had the opportunity to approach some of my reading from an intriguingly different angle. I've been asked to prepare discussion questions for some House of Anansi Press titles, questions incorporated in readers' guides that could be used for book clubs or study groups. Anansi has made readers' guides available for download from their web site for numbers of their popular titles, and they're also working to have questions printed and bound in some book editions. Whether the questions are used to spark group discussion and debate or are quietly employed for individual consideration, I think they're a great way to deepen one's reading experience and probe further into what you've just read.

I've discovered that formulating these questions - even, reading a book for the first time knowing you will be preparing questions - is also a great way to more fully appreciate a work, even a work you might not necessarily expect to like. You go in as a book's advocate when you know you're compiling questions, because you assume from the outset that people have been motivated to obtain the book, read it and discuss it with others, so there must be some respect for the book and positive perspectives on its value, out of respect for those readers. It's a different kind of respect than discovering a book disappoints you, and you want to be able to articulate that constructively but perhaps firmly, to dissuade people from reading it at the expense of what you feel are worthier books, or to perhaps give a writer genuine, albeit critical feedback.

It doesn't mean, either, that you're acting as a suspiciously nice or damning-with-faint-praise Marilyn Hagerty-ish apologist for books that wouldn't hold up to the scrutiny of a more straight-up review or qualitative analysis. If anything, I'd contend that developing questions for others to ponder might force you, the question-concocter, to pay attention and fathom the writer's craft and intentions more concertedly than if you were reading for pleasure.

The following are the reader's guide questions that I developed for Dr. Brinkley's Tower by Robert Hough. (These are the questions I submitted to Anansi. An edited version of the questions are provided to accompany the book.) If you've read the book, are these questions useful for exploring the book further? If you haven't read the book, do the questions perhaps spark your interest in the book? Either way, do you use and contemplate the questions posed by reader's guides when they're provided?

1. Señora Azula Mampajo, the town curandera or healer, is viewed more with fear or repulsion by the citizens of Corazon de la Fuente than with reverence or respect. Do those attitudes change by the end of the story? If so, why? If not, why not?

2. Dr. Brinkley’s Tower is told from a variety of points of view. Does this give a better sense of the different perspectives on the benefits and challenges of the changes that come to Corazon de la Fuente, or does it make the story more cacophonous and confusing? If the story was only told from one character’s point of view (which, of course, might mean that certain parts of the story might not be told at all), which character would you choose?

3. The colour green has almost consistently positive connotations and symbolic significance across cultures. Green conveys hope, fertility, abundance, birth and rebirth, freshness and purity, and is clearly associated with the natural world. How is the colour green used, with increasing intensity and pervasiveness, in Dr. Brinkley’s Tower?

4. Dr. Brinkley’s Tower is a sensory cornucopia, spilling over with sights, sounds, smells, tastes and sensations from the sensuous to the repugnant and horrific. Give appealing and not-so-appealing examples of vivid descriptions that pique each of a reader’s senses.

5. What is more insidious: the physical effects of the transmission of Radio XER, or the mental and spiritual?

6. From revolution and oppressions, to a post-revolution shell-shocked torpor, to the bewildering but perhaps promising early days of the construction of Dr. Brinkley’s tower, to the promise of prosperity and all that ensues … is there ever a time when Corazon de la Fuente is not in upheaval in one form or another? If there is a time, however brief, when in the story would you pinpoint it?

7. Name three seemingly unlikely pairings of characters – in romance, business, crime and so on – in Dr. Brinkley’s Tower. Which pair is your favourite and why?

8. Who is the most foolish or gullible character in Dr. Brinkley’s Tower, and who is the most savvy and resourceful? Who is toughest, perhaps the most hard-hearted? Who is most tender and compassionate? Which character surprised you the most, for good or for bad?

9. Where do the satirical barbs of Dr. Brinkley’s Tower best hit their marks? Is it with individual human pride, hubris and folly; collective human pride, hubris, folly and duplicity in conflict or commerce; the differences and conflicts between men and women … or something else entirely?

10. Compare and contrast the business acumen and managerial styles of Dr. Brinkley and Madam Félix.

11. Who tells the most damaging lie in Dr. Brinkley’s Tower?

12. When Ramon and his intimidating cronies come to Corazon de la Fuente, ostensibly hired to protect Madam Félix and her Marias in the House of Gentlemanly Pleasures, the town is quickly subjected to a new regimen of rules and social “justice”: “And so Ramón invented a code of conduct for the people of Corazón de la Fuente to disobey. Ironically, many of these bore a moralistic hue, which is always the case when laws are created by the despicable ... There was no shortage of offenders — Ramón’s rules were so complicated and nonsensical that Ramón himself barely understood them.” In the mayhem that ensues, what is the book perhaps saying about contemporary approaches to crime and punishment?

13. Will Francisco and Violeta live happily ever after? What will strengthen their bond and what might challenge it?

14. Is Dr. Brinkley more a figure of premeditated evil or tragic folly? Does knowing that he is based on a real-life figure change your perception of him?

15. “If there was one thing the molinero had learned in his long, long life it was that men will always find something to fight about, the rationale not mattering nearly so much as the fighting itself. This was just one of the reasons he so preferred women ...” Does Dr. Brinkley’s Tower dwell too much on male and female stereotypes, or can you provide examples to the contrary?

16. Ultimately, does the experience with Dr. Brinkley bring out more of the best or the worst of humanity? Pick only one and support that choice.

17. Will Corazon de la Fuente rebuild, or is its future as Nuevo Laredo?

Thank you to House of Anansi Press for the opportunity to read an advance version of Dr Brinkley's Tower by Robert Hough.

See also:

Book Review: Dr. Brinkley’s Tower, by Robert Hough
by Michael Hingston, National Post
February 24, 2012

I've also prepared reader guide questions for:

• The Antagonist
• Easy to Like

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Two months and a bit into it, the #todayspoem inspiration is still going strong. Check the hashtag any day of the week - and at any time of the day, for that matter - and you'll see that a core of regular contributors from around the world are starting, ending or pausing in their days to savour and contemplate a good poem, and then share it with others. There are more than 70 contributors sharing their #todayspoem selections daily or periodically - I've captured them in a Twitter list.

As I've mentioned before, I'm amazed every day at what #todayspoem contributors are reading and sharing. I faithfully bookmark/favourite the #todayspoem tweets and go back at every opportunity to explore the links, videos, pictures of pages taken straight from volumes, knowing that I'm going to be dazzled, amused and moved anew. I have this lovely feeling, too, that for every person sending out a thoughtful #todayspoem tweet every day or every week, there are even more people quietly reading, enjoying and reflecting on the poems we're sending out into the ether.

I'm still experimenting with ways of archiving and showcasing all the #todayspoem selections, with links to texts and more information about the poets, poetry collections and publishers. Once I've got that figured out for my own selections, I'd also love to be able to find a way to aggregate all contributions in one place, if possible. Anyhow, this month, I started gathering and "pinning" my poems on Pinterest. What do you think?

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I'm thrilled to welcome another guest book reviewer to the Bookgaga blog. Braydon Beaulieu is a graduate student in English (Creative Writing) at the University of Windsor in Windsor, Ontario. He's not just a keen observer and examiner of the potential of creative writing in all its forms, but he's an engaged and talented wordsmith himself. Follow his lively Twitter feed @BraydonBeaulieu to see where words will take him next.

I finished Suzette Mayr’s Monoceros and immediately thought to myself, “How in the world am I going to review this novel without simply gushing uncontrollably?”

Monoceros is magical. Amazing. Any number of happy, shiny adjectives I could think up. It gallops out of the gates from first line, “Because u r a fag is scrawled in black Jiffy marker across his locker,” and doesn’t slow down until the last. This is a novel about ripples spreading through a fictionalised Calgary after the suicide of Patrick Furey, a gay teenager at a Catholic school. It is furious, it is in shock, it is in tears, it doesn’t care – won’t care – about Patrick Furey and his empty desk in English class. “So he killed himself,” thinks Petra, the girlfriend of Patrick’s secret boyfriend, Ginger. “So sad. Too bad. Now he’ll stop molesting her boyfriend. So glad. All she did was say she was going to rip his dick off.”

For a novel whose subject matter predisposes melodrama and didacticism, Monoceros remains unsentimental. The first chapter, “The End,” details the becauses of Patrick’s suicide, culminating in his death. For the rest of the novel, he’s gone. This is not a novel about teen suicide, not really. This is a novel about the people who live on. Maureen Mochinski (née Rule)’s inability to pry her mind from her divorce, to remember the dead student’s name. Faraday Michaels’s regret over having not struck up a conversation over iced cappuccinos and her wish that her parents would stop “fornicating all over the house.” Ginger lying in bed as he “noses his fingers for just one ghost of Furey’s perfume.” Walter, the school guidance counsellor, and Max, the principal who’s also Walter’s secret lover. Patrick’s parents. Classmates. These characters who constitute the novel – they are Mayr’s focus, rather than plot. Monoceros is about people colliding and breaking against each other in the wake of tragedy, and learning about themselves as they glue the pieces together.

The novel successfully navigates the way Patrick’s suicide washes over the school. Walter, for example, knows he could have done something to help, could have given the boy an attentive ear: “Walter snared by another circle, layers and layers of concentric circles, till they touch each harsh point on the curve. He didn’t do his job. He failed that dead boy.” Walter’s reaction to Patrick’s suicide speaks to his feelings about his own sexuality. The tension of the novel hinges on the secrecy in which people who identify as homosexual are forced to live and love in a poisonously Catholic environment (not that each and every Catholic environment is poisonous; I’m speaking specifically of the one in this novel). The relationship between Max and Walter mirrors that of Patrick and Ginger: they have kept it secret for seventeen years, terrified of losing their jobs because of their sexuality. This theme, of course, questions the demonising of non-heterosexuality. Ginger unable to come out publicly, his head guidance counsellor and principal obligated to hide their relationship for nearly two decades. Secrecy is what tears at their skin, clamps down on their lungs. Secrecy forced by an environment that views them as sinners for a choice that isn’t a choice. Patrick’s suicide shoves those around him into confrontation with their secrets. The multiple characters that Monoceros follows demonstrate how people inscribe others’ deaths onto their own lives. Walter, regretful. Max, thankful it didn’t happen on school property. Petra wants her sweater back, the one she gave Ginger and then Ginger gave Patrick. Faraday, hopeful, believing unicorns can unleash happiness for the people who surround her, heal the hurt with their alicorns. But for the whole novel, she waits for their arrival in vain. Monoceros does not give its characters a way out; life is about moving up and in, or laying on the couch smoking pot and watching Sector Six, like Patrick’s parents end up.

The detail with which Mayr explores her characters is astounding. Her use of language is poetic and affecting, and it cuts to visceral details. One particularly effective stylistic maneuver is the obituary column – Mayr establishes the familiar form of the newspaper obituary as a method of detailing characters’ opinions of Patrick and each other. By the end of the novel this gets resignified because the form of the obit is applied to regular narrative; Mayr recasts her characters’ narratives as post-mortem flashbacks. This resignification works well because it serves as a reminder, through blending previously distinct forms, that death is inevitable (sorry for the cliché phrase), and narrative continues after death. Words live on. This continuation resonates with the characters of Monoceros, who continue to live out their stories after the suicide of Patrick Furey, in the best way they know how. Some of them stumble. Some of them gallop free. But all of them will stay with you long after you’ve tucked away the book.

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Although it made the most noise and seemed to garner the most attention, the big story was not harsh, borderline slanderous words thrown out as calculated debate tactics by one panelist to two authors whose books were in contention for the winner of this year's Canada Reads competition. While distracting, that provocation (if you must and haven't, you can learn more here) thankfully turned out to be something of a sideshow to the much bigger story: that a finale perfectly capturing the fabric of today's Canada was triumphantly executed with exemplary and quintessential Canadian finesse.

If you missed it, the final round for winner of Canada Reads 2012 pitted the book Something Fierce by Carmen Aguirre, a story of Chilean refugees in the Pinochet era in the early 1980s, defended by award winning hip hop artist Shad, against The Game by Ken Dryden, a both wide reaching and personal reflection on Canada's national game from one of its most revered players, defended by actor, songwriter and TV show host Alan Thicke. Hmm, "pitted" sounds like a heated conflict. It generated heat in that the final defenders and the remaining panelists waxed heartfelt and poetic about the inspiring themes in both books, but that heat was warmth, not the more ephemeral sparks of gamesmanship. That collegial and respectful coming together at the end exemplified many of the Canadian values that this annual "battle of the books" culminates in exploring every year. And as finalist Shad remarked at the outset of the final day's discussions, it was "hair splitting" at that point to crown any of the books a titular winner.

It was remarks like that that also highlighted one of the greatest delights of the entire debate series. Book defender Shad embodied diplomacy and grace throughout the proceedings. He not only courteously acknowledged the views of his competing book defenders, but found regular opportunities (not just ones dictated by specific questions from the moderator, Jian Ghomeshi) to sincerely and evenhandedly praise the other books with a level of knowledge and detail that spoke to his studious reading of and supplementary to the entire finalist list. (He admitted in an off-camera chat after one of the debates that he was reading up on other Ken Dryden books, ostensibly for more debate fodder, but clearly for sheer interest and enjoyment, too.)

There were wonderful contrasts and symmetries produced by the final pairing of Something Fierce and The Game, dichotomies that simply would not have been put in such intriguing relief if the final two were, say, Something Fierce and Prisoner of Tehran (two books both about daunting new Canadian experiences), or The Game and On a Cold Road (paeans to Canadian cultural icons firmly rooted in this country). The contrasts and, in essence, the yin and yang of the final two books made for a satisfying, balanced view of what Canadians should be reading - really, both books if they haven't already - to truly gain insight into what it means today to be a Canadian.

Some of the contrasts of the two books that were most striking and thought provoking included The Game's tribute to but also pointed examination of a sport that is a transcendent cultural touchstone in many ways, part of the traditions of many native born Canadians, but is not without its problems that Dryden pointedly tackled in the early 1980s and are still sadly relevant today. This is set against Something Fierce's unflinching account of an extraordinary new Canadian experience (where it might not be readily apparent where Canada actually fits favourably in the story), sparked by political upheaval elsewhere in the world in the early 1980s (interesting!) that is still in many respects sadly relevant today.

Both books have a strong foundation in the importance of family, even when those families have their shortcomings, as all families do. As a professional athlete who traveled constantly, Dryden worried poignantly about being an absentee parent, but he also celebrated the generosity of his parents in providing a home and support for he and his siblings to play out and realize their dreams. The word "shortcomings" is too mild to describe the outright dysfunction in Aguirre's family dynamic - from divorced parents to a mother and stepfather who then drew their children (including a child born while essentially on the run in South America) into subterfuge and danger. But Aguirre's choice to continue with her mother's political causes when she became an adult is testament, in part at least, to profound familial love and respect.

The two books are a true study in contrast in terms of authorial voice. The voice of Something Fierce exudes warmth, passion, as well as a youthful, mercurial and unfiltered heedlessness and comparative lack of processing of thoughts and motives. That last is not a criticism, but just a description of the callow narrator's perspective. The voice of The Game is cooler, more cerebral, more thoughtful, having stepped back more from the events and issues in which the protagonist was directly involved. But a more analytical or meditative approach doesn't preclude warmth and compassion and humour, too, and it's there, but more subtly woven into the narrative. Ultimately, both voices convey profound kindness and a desire to do the right thing in the world at large. Aren't both voices just two sides of the Canadian identity coin?

While attending all four of the Canada Reads debate tapings for web streaming and TV, I was really gratified to talk to lots of fellow readers, particularly non-fiction enthusiasts with very personal connections to the books being discussed. One reader wisely observed that an aspect of the Canadian immigrant experience that many might not realize or appreciate is that many people come to Canada with a heavy and perhaps somewhat grudging heart. Canada may be a choice and even a haven, but a significant number of immigrants are leaving their countries of origin with regrets and reluctance. That remark coupled with Shad's steadfast and levelheaded defence of Something Fierce were revelations for this reader.

This all is not to dismiss that the words spoken at the beginning of Canada Reads have faded away or necessarily should. They rankle, and will likely be talked about, tweeted, hashed over, deconstructed on blogs and, most significantly, will clutch at and wound hearts for some time to come. Beaming more brightly, though, is that when Canada Reads righted itself after that initial outburst, it brought to all Canadian readers a stimulating discussion highlighting the contrasting but complementary personae, desires and values that make up the Canadian identity.

See also:

Non-fiction authors as characters in their own works

My reviews of Canada Reads 2012 finalists:

• Prisoner of Tehran, by Marina Nemat
• The Tiger, by John Vaillant
• The Game, by Ken Dryden
• Something Fierce, by Carmen Aguirre
• On a Cold Road, by Dave Bidini (to follow)

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At the halfway point in the four-day series of Canada Reads 2012 debates, an interesting issue about a fundamental aspect of creative non-fiction is emerging, and it's got me thinking. I just wanted to set down a few quick thoughts and ask for some reactions, from those following the debates and from those who are fans of creative non-fiction. I'd love to get your thoughts - either here in the comments or via Twitter - on the question of whether or not a non-fiction author needs or should be a character in her/her own work.

In memoirs, literary journalism, personal essays and other narrative forms using factually accurate material as their basis, the author of such creative non-fiction works can essentially take one of two roles in the telling of their chosen stories:

• Participant - The author was involved in the true story in some capacity, either as an individual or part of a group to whom something happened, or as a firsthand observer, perhaps with particularly intimate knowledge of the persons and/or events that are the focus of the story.
• Reporter - The author gathers and shapes factual information about events and persons with whom the author was not involved, and builds a story through research and filtering of trusted and perhaps not trustworthy perspectives.

This categorization is admittedly basic and simple. Also, categorizing in this fashion is rarely this cut and dried across many works of creative non-fiction. Even if a story is presented in as seemingly objective a fashion as possible, the author is likely to implicitly, subliminally or in fact explicitly demonstrate a bias, an emotional attachment of some sort and so on. There are works that cross, with varying degrees of clarity and success, between the roles of participants and reporters. I'd contend that most often, you see reporter-style non-fiction authors getting increasingly involved in the stories they're reaching and reporting on, and becoming a peripheral character or voice in the telling of the story.

Of course, there are challenges and dangers tipping in both directions on the objectivity/subjectivity scale with authors reporting on versus participating in the stories captured in their non-fiction works. If a firsthand observer or protagonist is passionately entwined in his/her story, that can make for a captivating, stirring read, but it might also be a read where the veracity and balance of interpretation of events is in doubt. If a reporter remains distanced and cool in laying out the elements and issues of his/her story, does it make for a more trustworthy, balanced account, but also something less compelling? Conversely, if a reporter is too explicitly engaged or has an agenda, does that too plant doubts?

An interesting recent example of a reporter becoming a character in the story on which she was reporting is author Susan Orlean and her book Rin Tin Tin, The Life and the Legend. One could take closer and more arms length approaches to capturing the story of the iconic animal figure, an attractive and heroic German Shepherd that went from movie and television star to a still enduring commercial franchise and cultural touchstone. The book could have been a historical or pop culture study, but as she went along in the personal researching and interviewing for the story, Orlean admits to becoming more and more personally engaged in the story. As a result, she speaks directly and describes her participation in the shaping of the story, and why specifically the story of Rin Tin Tin resonated for her, particularly at the stage in her life when she was writing the book. Some readers might find that approach intrusive or distracting, others might find that inclusion (not intrusion) makes the story easier to identify with and even more absorbing.

Much rarer and perhaps temperamentally simply not possible is the non-fiction work where a participant in the story attempts to simply report objectively on the story. Is that possible? Hold that thought.

At the start of the two debates so far, moderator Jian Ghomeshi has cautioned panelists and audience that the debates are about the books, not about the authors. But with just about every question or point of debate, that distinction gets regularly blurred. (You could also say that distinction was downright smeared on the first day by one of the panelists who leveled provocative accusations at two of the authors. Since I'm not completely convinced the provocation wasn't a stunt, and whether it was or not, it's a somewhat tawdry distraction, I'll point to this coverage of the controversy and carry on with the discussion.)

Interestingly, over the first couple of days of the debates, there have been discussion points and references to how much we get to know Ken Dryden, Dave Bidini, Marina Nemat and Carmen Aguirre in their respective books. This doesn't really come up as a point with John Vaillant, as The Tiger is a book firmly positioned in the unobtrusive reporter-style spectrum of creative non-fiction. (That's not a dismissive categorization - it's elegant, masterful, transcendent storytelling with solid reportage as its base.) But if we're supposed to keep authors distinct from the "characters" in their books, how then are we to assess the "characters" of Ken Dryden, Dave Bidini, Marina Nemat and Carmen Aguirre.

Whatever you feel about issues of authenticity and trust in their stories, Marina Nemat and Carmen Aguirre are clearly the central protagonists of their books. For those that admire and defend the books, and even those who don't, no one denies that readers have personal reactions or connections to the Marina and the Carmen in the books. The same goes, in many respects, for Dave Bidini, although he balances his own account with a reporter's instinct for drawing in the perspectives and voices of many other people who have shared his experiences as an up and coming musician travelling the highways and byways of Canada building one's career. No one has commented thus far in the Canada Reads debates that they aren't seeing or hearing enough from the Marina, Carmen and Dave of their respective books.

Why then have the panelists, almost to a person, all remarked that they haven't been engaged by or felt they learned enough about Ken Dryden - the aspiring athlete and happy kid in his dad's backyard, the victorious goalie on a storied Canadian hockey team, the family man struggling to make family time, the thoughtful mortal struggling with fame and future aspirations - as depicted by Ken Dryden the author? Is it just possible that Ken Dryden the author has pulled off the unique feat of taking a convincing and trustworthy reporter-style approach to a story in which he is the main participant?

Rereading The Game in preparation for Canada Reads, having read it previously closer to its original publication in the early 1980s, I was impressed again at the almost preternatural thoughtfulness with which Dryden stood back from his own life and passions and took a bigger picture view of the nature of the sport to which he'd devoted his life to that point. That he was able to do that so objectively means that perhaps he sacrificed some personal warmth and connection with some readers to put some thought to bigger issues that, as it turns out, are still deeply relevant today. In throwing the net a little wider than his own personal experience, but judiciously using that experience to lend credibility to his broader observations, I think Dryden has crafted a gold standard work of creative non-fiction that is both thought provoking and touching. Maybe that makes it the book that all Canadians should read.

Are non-fiction authors obliged to be characters in their own works? Can they be reporters and even mine their own experiences, but put it to greater creative or critical use? Just some food for thought in the bountiful banquet that is this year's Canada Reads debates.

My reviews of Canada Reads 2012 finalists:

• Prisoner of Tehran, by Marina Nemat
• The Tiger, by John Vaillant
• The Game, by Ken Dryden
• Something Fierce, by Carmen Aguirre
• On a Cold Road, by Dave Bidini (to follow)

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It wasn't until close to the end of Something Fierce, Memoirs of a Revolutionary Daughter, that Carmen Aguirre's youthful account of navigating war torn and dictatorship-ravaged South America in the 1980s began to capture my heart.

It was futile to wait for my spirit to join my body again. I realized as I stood in that Patagonian phone company that maybe it never would. This was the biggest sacrifice I'd have to make. The body cannot take chronic terror; it must defend itself by refusing to harbour the spirit that wants to soar through it and experience life to the fullest. And so it was that, as we stepped outside into the glaring light, got on the first bus we saw and zigzagged our day away, my spirit was left back in the phone company along with the mirrored windows and the echo of voices connecting to far-off homes.

At that point, Aguirre seemed to finally and tellingly encapsulate the profound trauma that the life forced on her by her Chilean revolutionary parents had wrought on her bodily, emotionally, psychologically and spiritually. To that point, Something Fierce had intermittently captured my interest with its understandably uneven account of a girl growing to young womanhood living the double and triple life of a political refugee in Canada and undercover resistance operative in Peru, Bolivia, Argentina and Chile. The story veers from a firsthand account of the upheaval, injustice and at times mortal danger of the brutal Pinochet regime - in essence, the disturbing and enraging facts and figures of Naomi Klein's The Shock Doctrine brought to life - to the fancies, dreams, desires, fashion and pop culture whimsies, moods and petulance of a typical teenager perhaps anywhere in the world.

At times, the juxtaposition of a child's or young woman's quotidian aspirations with life threatening situations put each world in stark relief. In other instances, it struck dissonant notes, making none of it seem real or resonant. Overriding that was this reader's discomfort with the decisions of the child's parents which might have been well meaning, dedicated, passionate, but were also idealistic, naive and heedless, putting this girl and her siblings in extraordinary and almost continuously inhumane circumstances. I admired Aguirre's precocious and preternatural resilience, but couldn't get past her use as something just mere shades away from a child soldier, however worthy the cause.

As one of the Canada Reads 2012 finalists, is Something Fierce the book that all Canadians should read? If this book is supposed to say something essential about Canada and being Canadian to all Canadians, I'm not sure. Canada's role in Aguirre's story is as something of a stopping or resting point between revolutionary forays. As such, Canada could be viewed as a sanctuary, but it's seems to be a convenient stopover (in contrast to fellow Canada Reads contender Prisoner of Tehran, where Canada is viewed as a peaceful, protective haven and a truly desired new home). Certainly, Aguirre's continued life and career is testament that Canada became a home, but this isn't part of the story or a significant part of the epilogue of Something Fierce. Inspiring to all Canadians, though, is a profile of a young and determined individual to be faithful to family, home and convictions.

See also:

• Interview with author of Something Fierce

• Pinochet 'dictatorship' textbook row erupts in Chile
  January 4, 2012
  BBC News, Latin America and Caribbean

My reviews of other Canada Reads 2012 finalists:

• Prisoner of Tehran, by Marina Nemat
• The Tiger, by John Vaillant
• The Game, by Ken Dryden

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How bunches of us bookish sorts on Twitter decided to start our day with some poetic inspiration - and share it with each other - is described here. You can always quickly tap into what we're most recently sharing and discussing by simply checking out the #todayspoem hashtag on Twitter. You can check the hashtag and see new contributions at just about any moment of the day or night, as contributors are posting an astonishingly diverse and eclectic range of poetry selections around the clock and from around the world.

I'm amazed every day at what #todayspoem contributors share. I don't have time to read them all on the spot, but I faithfully bookmark/favourite them in Twitter, and go back at every opportunity, knowing that I'm going to learn something new, be entertained, be moved, be surprised ... and it's all those great moments that keep the day rolling along, truth be told.

I've kept track of my own #todayspoem selections so far and just wanted to share them, just for fun and perhaps for enticement to more of you to follow and maybe join in. At very least, stop by, read and enjoy. If you're tempted to pull a book of poetry off the shelf (even a virtual shelf, such as the great poetry resources online at sites such as The Scottish Poetry Library, The Academy of American Poets and the Griffin Poetry Prize, amongst others) and inspired to share what you've found, just add the #todayspoem tag to your tweet and a network of poetry lovers will get to enjoy it.

My #todayspoem selections so far ...

December 25, 2011
Lorne Daniel (@LorneDaniel)
Dog on Ice, from Drawing Back to Take a Running Jump
Weedmark Publishing

December 26, 2011
Robert Graves
The Cottage

Excerpt:
"Now somehow it's come to me
To light the fire and hold the key"

December 27, 2011
Roo Borson
The Garden, from Short Journey Upriver Toward Oishida
McClelland and Stewart (@McClellandBooks)

Excerpt:
"Eye of the lake
half-closed with ice.
Ducks at one end, sleeping."

December 28, 2011
Charles Wright
Little Landscape, from Scar Tissue
Farrar Straus and Giroux (@FSG_Books)

Excerpt:
"To lighten the language up, or to dark it back down
Becomes the blade edge we totter on."

December 29, 2011
Derek Mahon
Homage to Gaia, from Life on Earth
Gallery Press (@TheGalleryPress)

Excerpt:
"Coleridge kept an Aeolian
harp like a harmonica
lodged in an open window
to catch the slightest flicker"

December 30, 2011
Sina Queyras (@lemonhound)
Solitary, from Expressway
Coach House Books (@CoachHouseBooks)

Excerpt:
"Cellphone at her ear. She is calling home,
Calling the past, calling out for anyone
To hear.

December 31, 2011
Erin Moure (@ErinMoure)
Aturuxo Calados, from Little Theatres
House of Anansi Press (@HouseofAnansi)

Excerpt:
"Regard a tree.
Who would have better seized light's longing?"

January 1, 2012
Sylvia Legris
Agitated Sky Etiology, from Nerve Squall
Coach House Books (@CoachHouseBooks)

Excerpt:
"Clouds a flummox of fluster. Flux. Ice miasma. (Second nature
a temperate climate preceding storm.)"

January 2, 2012
Charles Bukowski
time, from what matters most is how well you walk through the fire
Ecco (@EccoBooks)

Excerpt:
"satisfied now
I'm glad someone stole my last watch
it was so difficult to read
satisfied now
I've got a new one"

January 3, 2012
Kevin Connolly
Plenty, from Revolver
House of Anansi Press (@HouseofAnansi)

Excerpt:
"The sky, lit up like a question or
an applause meter, is beautiful
like everything else today"

January 4, 2012
Margaret Atwood (@MargaretAtwood)
Miss July Grows Older, from Morning in the Burned House
McClelland and Stewart (@McClellandBooks)

Excerpt:
"How much longer can I get away
with being so fucking cute?
Not much longer."

January 5, 2012
Michael Crummey
Your Soul, Your Soul, Your Soul, from Hard Light
Brick Books (@BrickBooks)

Excerpt:
"Uncle Lewis Crummey was the shortest man in Western Bay, five foot nothing and every inch of that was temper"

January 6, 2012
Lisa Robertson
Wooden Houses, from Magenta Soul Whip
Coach House Books (@CoachHouseBooks)

Excerpt:
"And you are a rare modern painting in the grand salon
And you are a wall of earth."

January 7, 2012
David McFadden
Strange Language, from Why Are You So Sad?
Insomniac Press (@InsomniacPress)

Excerpt:
"Language is a breakwater causing the blind
Waves of the mind suddenly to halt
And explode."

January 8, 2012
Chris Chambers
Canada Day 1997, from Wild Mouse
Pedlar Press

Excerpt:
"I had a dream last night the whole country was a line
A single road with even rows of houses on each side"

January 9, 2012
Michael Ondaatje
The Story, from Handwriting
McClelland and Stewart (@McClellandBooks)

Excerpt:
"For his first forty days a child
is given dreams of previous lives."

January 10, 2012
Rosemary Sullivan
Sisters, from The Space a Name Makes
Black Moss Press

Excerpt:
"I started spelling my name backwards,
retreating from the space a name makes."

January 11, 2012
Elaine Equi
The Foreign Legion, from Ripple Effect
Coffee House Press (@Coffee_House_)

Excerpt:
"It's pleasant
to wake
to a camel's nuzzling
even on the run."

January 12, 2012
John Cooper Clarke
(I Married A) Monster from Outer Space

Excerpt:
"We walked out - tentacle in hand
You could sense that the earthlings would not understand"

Text of (I Married A) Monster from Outer Space

January 13, 2012
Anne Carson
Nox
New Directions (@NewDirections)

Excerpt:
"Prowling the meanings of a word, prowling the history of a person, no use expecting a flood of light."

January 14, 2012
Dunya Mikhail (translated by Elizabeth Winslow)
Non-Military Statements, from The War Works Hard New Directions (@NewDirections)

Excerpt:
"I drew a door
to sit behind, ready
to open the door
as soon as you arrive."

January 15, 2012
John Steffler
The Grey Islands
Brick Books (@BrickBooks)

Excerpt:
"and always the background pull
an aching magnet inside you:
home.
sweet lives, sweet
bodies against you."

January 16, 2012
Lorna Crozier
Paul, from A Saving Grace
McClelland and Stewart (@McClellandBooks)

Excerpt:
"I walked through town
my blouse buttoned wrong
and didn't know it
till Philip undid the buttons
did them up again

Lorna Crozier's A Saving Grace takes the voice of Mrs Bentley from Sinclair Ross' As For Me and My House.

January 17, 2012
David Harsent
Marriage, from Selected Poems 1969-2005
Faber and Faber (@FaberBooks)

Excerpt:
"Come up from the salt and I'll give you back the sun
flourish by flourish, just as it was, green into gold."

January 18, 2012
John B. Lee
The Day I wrote My First Poem, from The Beatles Landed Laughing in New York
Black Moss Press

Excerpt:
"I tasted the rain, it tasted of dust, wet dust.
I felt the snow freeze hot
on my face."

January 19, 2012
John Glenday (@JohnGlenday)
Stranger, from Grain
Picador (@PicadorBooks)

Excerpt:
"Just for today, if I were to pass myself in the street
I wouldn't even raise my hat, or say hello."

January 20, 2012
Valerie Rouzeau (translated by Susan Wicks)
Cold Spring in Winter
Arc Publications (@ArcPoetry)

Excerpt:
Mirror just let me see is this my head?
But aren't I grimacing, a new line too a bar across my forehead?

Miroir dis-moi voir c'est ma tête?
N'ai je pas une grimace, une nouvelle ligne aussi à me barrer le front ?
Valérie Rouzeau

January 21, 2012
Sina Queyras (@lemonhound)
Acceptable Dissociations, from Expressway
Coach House Books (@CoachHouseBooks)

Excerpt:
"This poem resembles urban sprawl. This poem resembles the freedom to charge a fee. The fee occurs in the gaps."

January 22, 2012
Dean Young
Self Search, from Primitive Mentor
University of Pittsburgh Press (@UPittPress)

Excerpt:
"Some days
you crash about raving how ignored you are
then why the hell don't people let you alone"

January 23, 2012
Lorne Daniel (@LorneDaniel)
East to West, from Drawing Back to Take a Running Jump
Weedmark Publishing

Excerpt:
"We fly against the grain
wash ourselves clean
as wind and water clear"

January 24, 2012
AF Moritz
Place, from The Sentinel
House of Anansi Press (@HouseofAnansi)

Excerpt:
"What if I'd never met my love and passed her
now on this sidewalk - would I have the power
to know her ..."

January 25, 2012
Ann Scowcroft
Phantom, from The Truth of Houses
Brick Books (@BrickBooks)

Excerpt:
"This is good-bye.
This is your first step forward.
This is your blood rattling with the new."

January 26, 2012
Leslie Greentree (@LeslieGreentree)
if I was a gate, from go-go dancing for Elvis
Frontenac House (@FrontenacHouse)

Excerpt:
"now I’m laughing aloud
fiercely proud of the naked apertures
racing across my kitchen
like a banner"

January 27, 2012
Kate Hall
Suspended in the Space of Reason: A Short Thesis, from The Certainty Dream
Coach House Books (@CoachHouseBooks)

Excerpt:
"The ground is still the same
ground I paid for but the house is not in the same spot."

Image of text of Suspended in the Space of Reason: A Short Thesis

January 28, 2012
Michael Ondaatje
Driving with Dominic in the Southern Province We See Hints of the Circus, from Handwriting
McClelland and Stewart (@McClellandBooks)

Excerpt:
"Children in the trees,
one falling
into the grip of another"

Text of Driving with Dominic in the Southern Province We See Hints of the Circus

January 29, 2012
Charles Bukowski
beaujolais jadot, from the night torn mad with footsteps
Black Sparrow Press

Excerpt:
"the dogs of Belgium feel bad
on certain winter afternoons
as
the sweep of things goes
this way and that."

January 30, 2012
Louise Gluck
Crossroads, from A Village Life
Farrar Straus and Giroux (@FSG_Books)

Excerpt:
"it is not the earth I will miss,
it is you I will miss."

Text and video of Crossroads

January 31, 2012
Gwendolyn MacEwan
Invocations, from The Broken Ark a book of beasts
Oberon Press
Excerpt:
"In this zoo are beasts which
like some truths, are far too true"

Image of text of Invocations
Image of illustration accompanying text of Invocations

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I've mused previously about the importance of literacy. From those musings, coupled with kind advice and support from book and publishing friends and acquaintances in real life and online, I've made a commitment to supporting literacy initiatives and programs ... every time I hit a followership milestone on Twitter. This time, I've made my donation to the following organization:

First Book provides access to new books for children in need. To date, First Book has distributed more than 85 million books and educational resources to programs and schools serving children from low-income families throughout the United States and Canada.

The first steps for First Book/Le Premier Livre came in 2006 when First Book President, Kyle Zimmer, and members of First Book's senior team traveled to Toronto and met with leaders from private, government, and social sectors to discuss First Book/Le Premier Livre. The team met with many of the major Canadian children's publishers as well as Canadian affiliates of our US publishing partners. The Honourable James K. Bartleman, former Lieutenant Governor of Ontario; John O'Leary, President of Frontier College; and Tim Pinnington, EVP TD Bank Financial Group and First Book Board member, hosted receptions which offered the opportunity to meet with key leaders and stakeholders from foundations, library organizations, and education/outreach programs serving children from low-income families across Canada.

Learn more about the organization at: www.firstbookcanada.org and www.firstbook.org/.

As I've mentioned previously on this subject, much more important than numbers of followers or influence scores or whatever is that we are in this social milieu reading and writing and talking ... about books and literature and print and digital formats and reading devices, and on to bookstores and libraries and the vital reading experience in all its forms. I value those who follow me and converse with me, those that I follow and learn from, and those that I come across even fleetingly in this vibrant tweeting, retweeting, chattering, enthusiastic and engaged environment. It's not the numbers of them (although that there are an endless potential for book friends out there is astonishing), but the quality of the discourse and the spirit, dealing with fundamental issues, not to mention myriad delights.

Numbers are just numbers. But then again, we can use those numbers in creative ways to challenge ourselves to remember, to recognize, to give back. Through this exercise, I've learned about other organizations and institutions supporting literacy and books that I'd like to recognize in future, so I'm going to set a goal to do just that whenever I hit one of those "number" milestones. I challenge other book tweeters and bloggers to do the same.

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"A time capsule buried at Maple Leaf Gardens in 1931 and revealed on Thursday (January 26, 2012) contains an NHL rule book, a municipal code, financial information on the team and a tiny carved ivory elephant of mysterious origin."(1)

Hockey in all its forms, in all its lore, never fails to captivate many Canadians. But do we listen carefully to those voices from the distant (1931 NHL rule book ...) and more recent past?

The Game by Ken Dryden, first published in 1983, offers enduring contributions to sport literature, non-fiction and Canadian literature. Considering it comes straight from one of the most accomplished players of the sport (written by him, not mediated through an interviewer or ghost writer), the book intrigues and challenges because it's not entirely a celebration of the sport of hockey, but a reverential and at times very troubled examination of it. The Game is neither a light nor quick read, but it's an absorbing and thoughtful reflection on the game of hockey and the experience of being part of a team. The book will fascinate fans and students of the sport as well as those interested in the history, psychology and national resonances and significance of this particular sport.

This reader's patently unscientific observation is that some of the best sports commentators that played sports themselves are those that have a full, clear and at times undisturbed view of the expanse of the playing field for most of the game - players such as catchers in baseball and goalies in hockey. That premise is perhaps debatable, because hockey lore and culture will also attest to goalies often being singular, separate by choice from the rest of their teams and even eccentric. At any rate, I'll use the positive aspects of that premise to suggest that makes Ken Dryden an especially thoughtful and clear-eyed analyst - as close as you can get to objective - of Canada's national sport.

Dryden approaches the game from many different angles, from the professional and technical, to the cultural, the personal and the philosophical. Some of the most engaging sequences in The Game capture the experience of working as part of a team, from the often rollicking accounts of travel and locker room camaraderie, to the continuum from grueling physical commitment to the collective euphoria when teammates come together as one and strive for victory. Most intriguing are Dryden's incisive reflections on the individual experience of and effects of being part of a team:

The great satisfaction of playing goal comes form the challenge it presents. Simply stated, it is to give the team what it needs, when it needs it, not when I feel well-rested, injury-free, warmed-up, psyched-up, healthy, happy, and able to give it, but when the team needs it.

The Game is one of five contenders for the 2012 rendition of Canada Reads, which seeks - through longlist and shortlist popular votes followed by a final round of debates with celebrity book advocates - to find the memoir, biography or work of literary non-fiction that would be meaningful for the entire country to read. Part of the lead-up to the debates in early February has included online chats on the CBC web site with the authors of the contending books. Dryden eloquently stick handled reader questions during his turn(2), and I was pleased to be able to pose this to him:

Q. Throughout The Game but especially towards the end of the book, I found your reflections on being an individual, being part of a team, and finding one's individuality by being part of a team to be really resonant. Do you think that being part of a team in some form or another (sports, but also other activities, like music, etc.) should be a formative part of everyone's upbringing?

A. It is always hard to find the mix that feels right about being an individual and being part of a group. Sometimes a group forces the best out in you; sometimes a group takes away what you most fundamentally and forces you into a role that isn't you. But we will all live our lives in both circumstances, and we'd better find a way of learning how to be good at both. So, yes, I think it's crucial to have those group and solitary experiences. And almost nothing now that is truly important gets achieved now by just an individual.

As I was rereading The Game in advance of the Canada Reads debates, it just so happens I was also rereading The Antagonist by Lynn Coady (yes, it's that good - a discussion for a future review, I hope). The story of a troubled former hockey enforcer, Coady's protagonist actually finds solace in the purity of the physical pleasure of the game and being part of a team. This line from The Antagonist certainly echoed what I was reading at the same time in The Game:

"team in the purest sense – when you’re as individual as you’ve ever been knowing you’re completely unalone. Completely with."(3)

While its reflections on the essence of team and teamwork were most appealing to this reader, there are many other interesting layers and threads to The Game. Dryden's childhood reminiscences are lively and charming, particularly of the uniquely configured backyard that made his home the destination for all the sports-loving neighbourhood children. The Game also purveys a hefty slice of sports history: a fabled sports franchise at a storied pinnacle, featuring and going behind the scenes with some of the sport's greatest players and coaches. If you're a fan and familiar with that era, the names and talents and signature moves will leap from the page. Even if you're not familiar with them, Dryden creates a balance of veneration and down-to-earth insights around those superstars that will draw you in. As well, Dryden gives equal and respectful consideration to the sports journeymen and to others supporting the game behind the scenes that gives a well-rounded picture of how the sport is served up to its avid spectators.

Dryden's pointed observations about the NHL's rationale for tolerating violence (remember, this was first published in1983) are, sadly, still relevant today. In that regard, The Game is most assuredly not a sealed time capsule, but still part of the ongoing debate. As he summed it up:

The NHL theory of violence goes something like this: Hockey is by its nature a violent game. Played in an area confined by boards and unbreakable glass, by players carrying sticks travelling at speeds approaching 30 miles per hour, collisions occur, and because they occur, the rules specifically permit them, with only some exceptions. But whether legal or illegal, accidental or not, such collisions can cause violent feelings, and violent feelings with a stick in your hands are dangerous, potentially lethal feelings. It is crucial, therefore, that these feelings be vented quickly before anger and frustration explode into savage overreaction, channelled towards, if not desirable, at least more tolerable, directions. In essence, this is Freud's "drive-discharge" theory of human aggression.(4)

... and as he responds:

The NHL is wrong ... if Freud was right, anthropologist Desmond Morris is also right. As Morris believes, anger released, though sometimes therapeutic, is sometimes inflammatory; that is, by fighting, two players may get violent feelings out of their systems, or, by fighting they may create new violent feelings to make further release (more fighting) necessary. If Freud was right, the NHL is also wrong believing as it does that fighting and stick-swinging represent the only channels by which violent feelings can be released. Anger and frustration can be released within the rules, by skating faster, by shooting harder, by doing relentless, dogged violence on an opponent's mind, as Bjorn Borg, Pete Rose and Bob Gainey do. If Freud was right and anger released is anger spent, then a right hook given is a body-check missed, and by permitting fighting, the NHL discourages determined, inspired play as retaliation.(5)

Dryden's observations again are balanced. He posits with the passion of someone who has been literally in the midst of the collisions and skirmishes and their aftermath, and with the level-headed analysis and supporting arguments of the lawyer and politician he became after he left the sport.

Again, I was pleased to follow up with him on these contentious aspects of the sport during the Canada Reads online chat:

Q. I learned a lot about the evolution of how the game of hockey is played - the strategic, tactical and physical changes - from The Game. I think that should be a primer for anyone aspiring to play, to manage, to own a team, to make policy associated with hockey at any level. Do you feel anyone in the hockey world - amateur or professional - has a sense of that evolution and heeds today what you highlighted back in the 1980s?

A. I think all of us tend to forget our own histories. And history is particularly important now when we see all the head injuries and yet any suggestions as to changes is met with the answer - you can't do that. That would be changing the nature of the game. If we knew that history, we would know that this game is always changing - once hockey was played 7-against-7 with no substitutions and until the 1920s without the forward pass. These things transformed how hockey is played and it is a much better game because of it. We are at a moment where we need to know we can change again, and again make hockey a better game.

By turns thoughtfully, almost coolly erudite (although maybe Don Cherry has also spoken about Freud's "drive-discharge" theory of human aggression, and I just missed it because I mute Coach's Corner) ... and warmly heartfelt, The Game is a cornerstone Canadian work. It's not a hermetically sealed and concealed time capsule, intriguing but frozen in time. It's still current and relevant today.

Notes:

1. Maple Leaf Gardens time capsule offers peek at 1931
Conn Smythe's son has theory of mysterious ivory elephant's origin
CBC News (January 26, 2012)

2. Transcript of CBC Books live chat with Ken Dryden (January 5, 2012)

3. The Antagonist, by Lynn Coady (2011, House of Anansi Press), p. 118

4. The Game, by Ken Dryden (1984 edition, Totem Books) p. 189

5. The Game, by Ken Dryden (1984 edition, Totem Books) p. 190

See also:

Ken Dryden on how he writes

My reviews of other Canada Reads 2012 finalists:

• Prisoner of Tehran, by Marina Nemat
• The Tiger, by John Vaillant
• Something Fierce, by Carmen Aguirre

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My husband Jason and I are dog lovers. We adore dogs in all shapes, sizes and breeds, but our hearts were especially captured by and we have shared our home for over two decades with devastatingly charming, handsome, rambunctious Airedale terriers.

We're as passionate about books as we are about our companion beasts. What better way to combine the two then, than by building a subset of our library to focus on Airedales? Thanks to Jason's particular eye for and terrier-like tenacity for researching and seeking out rare, obscure and offbeat books, we've amassed and are constantly on the lookout for books that feature, depict and even just mention Airedales in passing, in pictures and print. (1) One day, we aim to publish an annotated bibliography of what we've gathered.

Through that search for all things both bookish and Airedalian, The Money Tree, by Sarah Stewart, illustrated by David Small recently came our way ... and I am besotted.

The Money Tree tells its story through deceptively simple, almost circumspect text and rich, endlessly evocative illustrations. Miss McGillicuddy shares a pastoral life on a lush piece of land with a warmly appointed farmhouse with three dogs (one of which, of course, is an Airedale), a cat, some birds (including a parrot) and farm animals, including a horse and some goats. Miss McGillicuddy is quietly self reliant, planting and harvesting and caring for her animals, and finding time to quilt, read, fly a kite and make a Maypole for the neighbourhood children. Over the course of a year, she discovers a strange tree growing on her property, watches as it yields a puzzling but compelling bounty, shares that bounty with her community, and then wisely brings the bounty to an end, clearly with much thought and no alarm or rancour.

David Small's illustrations are rich in colour and detail, and offer character and storytelling details that deepen Sarah Stewart's understated, poetic text. How do we know that over the seasons, the enigmatic Miss McGillicuddy has made her decisions with such benevolence, tempered with such prudent moderation? Small's particular strength has been to focus on this independent woman's face, throwing beams of the subtly changing seasonal light on her musing, absorbed and absorbing expressions.

The Money Tree movingly captures the enduring beauty and reassurances of and in the changes of the seasons. The book simultaneously pays tribute to personal resilience and communal generosity.

This is a sweet and gentle tale for young children. There is also much to entrance and, evinced in Miss McGillicuddy's Mona Lisa smile on the last page, to ever so softly provoke adult readers, too.

Notes:

1. Here are some of our Airedale books that I've previously mentioned on this blog:

• Pete, by Tom Robinson
• Sink Trap (A Georgiana Neverall Mystery), by Christy Evans
• Wake Up Mr B! by Penny Dale
• Useless Dog, by Billy C. Clark

See also:

The Money Tree by Sarah Stewart, from the Experiencing Nature blog

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It all started with this thoughtful and quietly ebullient reflection from writer Alan Heathcock:

A Poem A Day: Portable, Peaceful And Perfect
datelined December 26, 2011 on the NPR web site (but published around December 24th, I think ...)

One daunting, harried morning, Heathcock paused to randomly draw a book of poetry from a shelf, and to just as randomly select and read a poem. Mary Oliver's "Egrets" momentarily took him away from not enough sleep, from kids needing to get to school, from deadlines demanding to be met ... and after that brief respite ...

I closed the book, transformed, bolstered from the inside out.

From that day forward, each morning I read a poem.

A bunch of us book friends on Twitter - including Harvey Freedenberg, Jeanne Duperreault and Elizabeth Bastos - starting discussing the power of randomly selected and surprisingly resonant poetry to lift one's spirits and put a new spin on the day. From that conversation, we agreed that we could all quite happily manage the New Year's resolution of starting our day with a poem. We'd swiftly grab it from a bookshelf or online, as suited, and we would take the time to read, savour and contemplate, like a brief morning meditation. And then we'd share our choices with each other, using the #todayspoem Twitter hashtag.

Even before January 1st, several of us jumped in enthusiastically. The selections are diverse, whimsical, touching, haunting, prescient, eye-opening. Let me share a few of the tweets that have help to draw those of us who know about it (so far) into this exquisite shared experience:

@michaelmagras This poem by Octavio Paz is one of my favorites. #todayspoem http://bit.ly/cSSwQX

@Perednia From Tomas Transtromer's Prelude: "Waking up is a parachute jump from dreams." #todayspoem

@HarvF Ellen Bass, "Gate C22." Very appropriate for this season of travel: http://bit.ly/hWmWty #todayspoem

@bookgaga "Regard a tree. / Who would have better seized light's longing?" @ErinMoure from Aturuxo Calados, Little Theatres #todayspoem

I think I'm especially in love with this tweet, because it shares an image of the poem on the page:

@Materfam #todayspoem Le Train de Midi, Stephanie Bolster yfrog.com/ob7gjlij

As you can see, everyone is sharing their #todayspoem experience a little differently, with an image, a link, an excerpt, whatever fits in a tweet. Each tweet is enough to spur a moment of delight or recognition or, handily favorited in Twitter, is a lovely bookmark for future poetry explorations.

The #todayspoem experience is a dual delight. You treat yourself to an energizing moment of reflection in the morning, and then you have others' shared #todayspoem gifts to enjoy just by going to the hashtag at any time. Care to join us?

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Here are the books I read in 2011, with links to reviews where I have them. As I've done in previous years, this is an exhaustive, "all of" list, not a best of list ... although there are some "best of" books in there ... can you guess which ones? It feels like it was a another year of lively reads indeed. While I reviewed fewer books, I do feel like this was a year of stretching in terms of genres and subject matter to which I wouldn't normally gravitate - and I'm glad for what I learned by stretching. I'm not a big resolution maker, but I think I can safely resolve to do more stretching with my reading in 2012.

1. Patient Frame
   by Steven Heighton

2. The Water Rat of Wanchai
   by Ian Hamilton

3. Better Living Through Plastic Explosives
   by Zsuzsi Gartner

4. The Canterbury Trail
   by Angie Abdou

5. Pigeon English
   by Stephen Kelman

6. The Year of Broken Glass
   by Joe Denham

7. Irma Voth
   by Miriam Toews

8. The Bird Sisters
   by Rebecca Rasmussen

9. A Visit From the Goon Squad
   by Jennifer Egan

10. Lookout
    by John Steffler

11. The Guilty Plea
    by Robert Rotenberg

12. Up Up Up
    by Julie Booker

13. The Empty Family
    by Colm Toibin

14. Ossuaries
    by Dionne Brand

15. Skippy Dies
    by Paul Murray

16. The Cat's Table
    by Michael Ondaatje

17. Offshore
    by Penelope Fitzgerald (reread)

18. The Ghost Brush
    by Katherine Govier

19. Girlwood
    by Jennifer Still

20. Practical Jean
    by Trevor Cole

21. Hooked
    by Carolyn Smart

22. Rin Tin Tin - The Life and the Legend
    by Susan Orlean

23. Appointment in Samarra
    by John O'Hara

24. The Pale King
    by David Foster Wallace

25. The Sense of an Ending
    by Julian Barnes

26. Cool Water
    by Dianne Warren

27. The Antagonist
    by Lynn Coady
    (Reading guide questions)

28. Indexical Elegies
    by Jon Paul Fiorentino

29. Short Talks
    by Anne Carson

30. Doctor Brinkley's Tower
    by Robert Hough
    (Reading guide questions)

31. Elimination Dance / La danse eliminatoire
    by Michael Ondaatje (trans. Lola Lemire Tostevin)

32. A Good Man
    by Guy Vanderhaeghe

33. Go the Fuck to Sleep
    by Adam Mansbach
    Hee hee ...

34. Making Light of Tragedy
    by Jessica Grant

35. Easy to Like
    by Edward Riche
    (Reading guide questions)

36. The Odious Child
    by Carolyn Black

37. The Sky's Dark Labyrinth
    by Stuart Clark

38. Prisoner of Tehran
    by Marina Nemat

39. The Tiger
    by John Vaillant

40. Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu
    by John Updike

I start 2012 with the following books started in 2011 and still in progress:

• The Game
  by Ken Dryden
• The Marriage Plot
  by Jeffrey Eugenides
• The Antagonist
  by Lynn Coady (reread)
• Drawing Back to Take a Running Jump, by Lorne Daniel

... and, ahem, I start 2012 with the following books started in 2010 and still in progress (I nibbled on both of them this past year - honest):

• Voltaire's Bastards
  by John Ralston Saul
• The Mill on the Floss
  by George Eliot

In 2010, I read 43 books, inspired a lot by great discussions and suggestions I found amongst the book blogging and reader community on Twitter. I didn't match my 2010 or even more ambitious 2009 totals - not even close, really... I have to ask again, though, are total numbers of books or pages really the point? What do you think?

In 2011, I was delighted to include some contributions to this blog by way of guest reviewers, as follows:

• The Amateur Marriage
  by Anne Tyler
  reviewed by Isabelle Giraud

• Essex County
  by Jeff Lemire
  reviewed by my niece H

• The Boy in the Moon
  by Ian Brown
  reviewed by my niece H

I'm keen to welcome more guest reviewers here in 2012.

So ... onward into the TBR pile!

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Man disdains nature at his ultimate peril, individually and collectively. John Vaillant drives this home with elegant and unforgettable ferocity in The Tiger, his enthralling account of the hunt for a man-eating tiger in in a harsh, remote area of Russia's Far East in the late 1990s.

The Tiger is a potent amalgam of different genres and subject matter, each one of which could stand on its own as an engrossing read. Vaillant has forged an unusual, suspenseful action thriller/murder mystery, pitting the intimidating but not unsympathetic presence of a powerful predator against first one man with whom he has specific grievances, and then against a growing team of trackers and investigators looking to halt the predator's deadly rampage. Subtitling The Tiger "a true story of vengeance and survival", Vaillant has commented in interviews that the uncanny ability of the tiger to single out specific people for its revenge - chiefly an unemployed logger turned poacher who has inadvertently stolen food from and injured the tiger - adds a "Stephen King" aspect to the story that makes it even more menacing. Coupled with detailed crime scene analysis and forensic procedural elements as the investigation and hunt commences, led by game warden and expert tracker Yuri Trush, The Tiger is a breathtaking true crime read unto itself.

The tale is immensely deepened, however, because Vaillant thoughtfully incorporates into it other investigations that transform the central tragedy into a touchstone for much more, symbolic of problems, challenges, but also hopeful opportunities on numerous levels. The Tiger is filled with vibrant character sketches of individuals striving to survive physically, emotionally and as a community and culture in an isolated area of the world alternately exploited and ignored by Russia, China and other international forces and influences. Vaillant also offers up a reverential National Geographic-calibre examination of a stunningly unique world ecosystem. That examination is stimulating and educational without being monotonously encyclopedic or pedantic. Finally, Vaillant melds it all into a environmental paean that is pointedly cautionary and can be applied universally, all without sanctimony.

The Tiger achieves many fine balances in its interplay of different types of storytelling. The reader will grieve for individuals, a community and a way of life that, while demanding and unforgiving, is still beautiful and stoically pastoral. At the same time, the reader will also cheer for the awesome (in the truest, purest sense of awe), magnificent tiger, who is also fiercely adapting and trying to make a life for itself in an exotic land encroached upon by waves of change triggered by political conflicts, technological pressures, economic demands, societal upheaval and more.

Having managed to grasp and skilfully weave so many thematic threads, Vaillant reminds us that the strength of memorable storytelling is fundamental to our human fabric:

For most of our history, we have been occupied with the cracking of codes - from deciphering patterns in the weather, the water, the land, and the stars, to parsing the nuanced behaviours of friend and foe, predator and prey. Furthermore, we are compelled to share our discoveries in the form of stories. Much is made of the fact that ours is the only species that does this, that the essence of who and what we understand ourselves to be was first borne orally and aurally: from mouth to ear to memory. This is so, but before we learned to tell stories, we learned to read them. In other words, we learned to track. The first letter of the first word of the first recorded story was written - "printed" - not by us, but by an animal. These signs and symbols left in mud, sand, leaves and snow represent proto-alphabets. Often smeared, fragmented, and confused by weather, time, and other animals, these cryptograms were life-and-death exercises in abstract thinking. This skill, the reading of tracks in order to procure food, or identify the presence of a dangerous animal, may in fact be "the oldest profession."

This rousing tale affects us so profoundly both because it is so richly layered, but also because it is so elemental.

See/hear also:

John Vaillant reads from The Tiger

The Tiger, by John Vaillant (author video)

My reviews of other Canada Reads 2012 finalists:

• Prisoner of Tehran, by Marina Nemat
• The Game, by Ken Dryden
• Something Fierce, by Carmen Aguirre

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Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu is a transcendent tribute to baseball and one of its most vivid and accomplished figures, as captured by one of America's most legendary authors. As the author expresses it in tribute to the athlete, that truly "crowds the throat with joy" ... and fills the heart and brings tears to the eyes, to boot.

On September 28, 1960, a young man in the early days of his life's work - 28-year-old writer John Updike - attended the last appearance of another comparatively young man - 42-year-old all-star baseball player Ted Williams - at the end of what was truly his life's work. Updike's glowing fan's notes were composed and edited over five days and published for the first time in the October 20, 1960 issue of The New Yorker. The original piece resurfaced in other Updike collections, as did a separate essay on the life of Ted Williams. The first bit of luminous reportage was finally joined with an updated version of the Ted Williams essay in a small, crisp volume published in 2010, touchingly prepared and additionally annotated by Updike just months before his death.

Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu is consummate sport literature and, in its way, epic poetry. The wordcraft is positively crystalline, with both an intimacy of physical detail and a grand scale of historical and collective emotional sweep to it that is difficult to isolate to just one perfect example. There are many. Here is one, as Williams steps to the plate for the last time:

I had never before heard pure applause in a ballpark. No calling, no whistling, just an ocean of handclaps, minute after minute, burst after burst, crowding and running together in continuous succession like the pushes of surf at the end of the sand.

Presaging Williams' storybook departure from the game, Updike also gorgeously captures the eternal dream of every team, every athlete, every fan who commits and cheers them on:

Nevertheless, there will always lurk, around the corner in a pocket of our knowledge of the odds, an indefensible hope, and this was one of the times, which you now and then find in sports, when a density of expectation hangs in the air and plucks an event out of the future.

Some of the beauty of Updike's prose is when it is at its most succinct - when an unbelievable play is still in motion ...

It was in the books while it was still in the sky.

... and when a recalcitrant hero refuses to respond to his deliriously happy fans:

Gods do not answer letters.

There is only one off note in this exquisite tribute. It is neither a false note in Updike's words, nor anything that Williams did or said in his lifetime that unduly tarnished his legend, but just a peculiar footnote to the Williams afterlife (perhaps literally) that is, well, just odd. Beyond that, this is sport literature and literature beyond classification or genre at its most poignant and very finest.

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In the 1500s, Danish nobleman Tycho Brahe dismayed his wealthy family by taking an avid interest in mathematics, astronomy and all things fascinatingly planetary. A preternaturally gifted observer of the heavens before telescopes were refined and in common use, Tycho's passions for geometry and celestial study were so intense that they led him at times to equally passionate disputes, one of which escalated into a duel during which he lost part of his nose. Tycho inspired and welcomed other mathematicians, scientists, astronomers and more to his estate, where guests participated equally enthusiastically in stargazing sessions and lively parties attended by Tycho's court jester and his tame elk, who was a bit of a tippler. Johannes Kepler, a famed astronomer who is one of two protagonists in Stuart Clark's vivid The Sky's Dark Labyrinth, was inspired by Tycho's observational prowess, though somewhat less enamoured of his lively banquets.

That Tycho leaps from the pages of The Sky's Dark Labyrinth with such Falstaffian verve is testament to one of the great strengths of Clark's imaginings of the lives and work of the great astronomers: strong character development that allows the reader to relate to the real people behind discoveries and revelations that for many are shrouded in the mists of history, if known at all. German mathematician and astronomer Kepler and his contemporary, Italian physicist and astronomer Galileo Galilei, are vibrant, fully rounded characters, complete with egos and frailties, balanced by passion and commitment in the face of personal challenges, political and religious roadblocks and often dire threats to their safety and life. The friends, family members, colleagues and adversaries who aid and abet Kepler and Galileo on their missions are all brightly etched, no matter how brief or extended their presences are in this absorbing historical fiction rendering of real lives.

Another great strength of The Sky's Dark Labyrinth is that the book distills the technical complexities of what Kepler and Galileo struggled with, decoded and brought to light, all without dumbing down or compromising the immensity of their discoveries. With a PhD in astrophysics, and as a Fellow of the Royal Astronomical Society and a former Vice Chair of the Association of British Science Writers (1), Clark has the credentials to be both awe-inspiring in his knowledge, and potentially intimidating and obscure in how he conveys it. That he has taken that impressive pedigree and devoted it to science and astronomical journalism lays a foundation for The Sky's Dark Labyrinth and its two planned follow-up novels (2) to be clear and accessible. That the book is also highly entertaining is a delightful surprise that also ameliorates how one retains the story's technical underpinnings.

Clark also lays out the social, religious and political minefields into which Kepler and Galileo interjected their theories. That both astronomers were also men of their respective churches (Kepler was part of the burgeoning Lutheran church, Galileo was Roman Catholic) highlights the struggles of conscience they both faced to bring forth the fruits of their intellectual labours. One church official observes the fundamental constraint with which both astronomers had to contend with the mere suggestion that the Sun and not the Earth was the centre of the universe:

"We cannot go rearranging the heavens. God placed the orbs just as he placed each and every one of us in our correct stations. After our lifetime of faithful service, we receive our reward in Heaven. If we start rearranging the planets, what's to stop people rearranging their lives? No one will know what to believe. There will be mass panic. Society will break down. What will prevent the peasants demanding land or riches? They could reject our authority altogether. ... Even if these observations are correct, we must suppress them. There's no sin in concealing a truth if it serves a higher purpose. The simple folk will not know how to interpret this."

As Kepler later responds:

"Though it's hard to believe at the moment, there must be harmony in the world; God's perfection cannot allow it to be otherwise. It must be a harmony so grand that it reduces all earthly woes to triviality."

As Clark so convincingly captures Kepler and Galileo as forthright but very human individuals simply striving for and wishing to share knowledge, so their struggles to convey that knowledge in the face of such at times monolithic resistance, opposition and threat is that much more moving. The reader most assuredly will come away from The Sky's Dark Labyrinth with eyes more widely opened and perhaps gazing to the heavens with refreshed curiosity, respect and awe

Thank you to Polygon, Ruth Seeley and the author for providing a review copy of The Sky's Dark Labyrinth, by Stuart Clark.

Notes

1. Stuart Clark's Universe - www.stuartclark.com/

2. Volume II, The Sensorium of God, features Isaac Newton and Edmond Halley. Volume III, The Day Without Yesterday, recounts the story of Albert Einstein, Edwin Hubble and George Lemaitre.

See also:

Skeptically Speaking - Science as Fiction - a podcast in which, by the way, the interviewer also expresses her admiration for the lively Tycho!

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The Penguin paperback edition of Prisoner of Tehran offers a subtle but arresting feature that I hope is part of the original and any other editions of this fine book. You can see Persian emblems or motifs in spot varnish when you tip the book cover in the light. Curving over the book spine and extending to the back cover, you can feel their faint imprint as you're holding the book - which you likely won't do for long, because the book is a compellingly swift read. It's a lovely, pervasive reminder of the book's cultural underpinnings. The emblems also hauntingly resemble snowflakes - imagery that recurs to surprisingly powerful effect throughout this unforgettable story.

Author and protagonist Marina Nemat quickly ushers you into a riveting account of her terrifying experiences during the Iranian revolution of the early 1980s. Her voice has the flat affect of someone battered and shell shocked, but strikingly determined to survive. While that voice is at times so strangely modest and understated as to be almost unnerving, you are irresistibly drawn into her harrowing tale of being arrested at the age of sixteen for acts so tenuously seditious to the regime of Ayatollah Khomeini as to be ridiculous. It is that ridiculousness that makes the physical and mental tortures she endures that much more nightmarish and incomprehensible. The terms by which she negotiates - if it could be dignified to call it such - and the circumstances by which she navigates her eventual freedom, after over two years of prison life, are almost inconceivable and border on the surreal. Nemat's prenaturally calm voice throughout it all helps you to stay with the twists and turns - sometimes heart pounding, sometimes heart wrenching, sometimes grindingly banal - that she and the other young women with which she is imprisoned face almost daily.

Raised as a practicing Christian in a middle class, fairly secular and unashamedly Westernized family, Nemat and her family and friends, and by extension many fellow citizens are exposed to repression and extremism that will be starkly eye-opening to many Canadian readers. After all that happens to her, including the familial alienation she confronts when she returns from her ordeal, Nemat somehow musters the astonishing and instructive grace to offer a bittersweet meditation on what hatred and outrageously wielded power can do to human decency.

A surprisingly redemptive theme and sequence of imagery recurring through the book binds Nemat's story together, figuratively and literally. It starts in the early pages:

It took me five minutes to get to the church. When I put my hand on the heavy wooden main door, a snowflake landed on my nose. Tehran always looked innocently beautiful under the deceiving curves of snow, and although the Islamic regime had banned most beautiful things, it couldn't stop the snow from falling.

Somehow, the snow is both beautiful, but also unstoppable - delicate, enduring, but sometimes heartbreakingly ephemeral:

One morning in August 1972 when I was seven, I picked up [my mother's] favourite crystal ashtray. It was almost the size of a dinner plate. She had told me a million times not to touch it, but it was beautiful, and I wanted to run my fingers over its delicate patterns. I could see why she liked it so much. In a way, it looked like a giant snowflake that never melted.

That beautiful object is all too soon shattered, presaging other things that will shatter with the same vulnerability:

His eyes were blank, as he, like me, tried to understand the devastating, lonely gap that death had left behind, the terrible falling from the known into the unknown and the terrifying wait to hit the solid ground and shatter into small, insignificant pieces.

Cumulatively, though, those fragile snowflakes can collect to cool, cleanse, comfort and ultimately offer regeneration, which Nemat clearly and deservedly yearns for after all she has suffered:

It was a perfect summer day, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky, but I wished for snow to cover the earth; I wished for its cold and honest touch to embrace my warm skin. I wanted my fingers to lose their sense of touch in deep frost and ache. I wanted all the shades of green and red to disappear under the weight of winter and its shades of white so I could dream and tell myself that when spring came, things would be different.

As Nemat simply observes about the place in the world that would finally provide her and her new family with haven and solace: "I liked the name 'Canada' - it sounded far away and very cold but peaceful."

Throughout Prisoner of Tehran, Nemat deals in grief and loss of myriad kinds, in which the destruction of books and writings marches in sorrowful lock step with the death of loved ones. She takes on courageously how one faces different kinds of oblivion, including the shame, silence and denial of friends and family when she re-emerges from imprisonment. That her inspiring tale of singular resilience culminates in her seeking a new life in Canada, where she eventually gets the support she needs to tell this story, is both stirring and gratifying.

I love my country already, but Marina Nemat has given me yet another way to articulate what is wonderful about it. Prisoner of Tehran is a strong and deserving choice for all Canadians to read, to appreciate from a startling new perspective just how sweet this country is.

My reviews of other Canada Reads 2012 finalists:

• The Tiger, by John Vaillant
• The Game, by Ken Dryden
• Something Fierce, by Carmen Aguirre

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Take a look here for the challenge details ...

... and then join us here!

Julie Wilson (aka @BookMadam) and I recently exchanged our Canada Reads predictions in sealed envelopes:

As part of the exchange, we described to each other the charitable causes we were supporting as part of this exercise (see below). We then had an intriguing chat about the rationale for our predictions, without giving our choices away. It's an interesting way to defend your choices, without giving them a way - try it!

On February 10th, 2012, Julie and I did our Canada Reads predictions reveal.

Our predictions scoring system accounted for the order in which the books were voted off, with a bonus for predicting the winner. The accountants at Price Waterhouse determined that although our Canada Reads predictions differed, Julie (aka @BookMadam) and I scored a ... tie! That meant that both of our charities - Neighbourhood Link & Books With Wings - won our Canada Reads challenge. Neat, eh?

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