Category Archives: Books

Review: Ms. Hempel Chronicles

Author: Sarah Shun-Lien Bynum
Title: Ms. Hempel Chronicles

Publisher: Harcourt
Media type: Uncorrected proof
Release date: 8 September 2008
Reading period: 22 August 2008
ISBN-10: 0151014965
ISBN-13: 978-0151014965
Category: Adult contemporary literature

Upon finishing this book, I turned it over and reread the title. Ms. Hempel Chronicles can be construed in two different ways. On one hand we can take it as a noun: The chronicles of Ms. Hempel’s life. On the other we can interpret it as an action: Ms. Hempels chronicles her life, and what she sees and thinks about what goes on around her. While I began the book with the assumption of the first title, during my reading experience my understanding slowly shifted to the latter interpretation. Each thing Ms. Hempel observes – be it love, relationships between adults, the relationship between a teacher and a student, a pregnancy, affairs, a class exercise or module – initiates some sort of connection to her own past, her aspirations, her uncertainty about her identity. The narrative does not make the mistake of bogging down in self-analysis; instead, the connections that Ms. Hempel makes are what draw the story along.

Ms. Hempel Chronicles is about a young elementary/middle school teacher at the beginning of her career. Ms. Hempel takes in school life going on around her, the interaction of the staff, the complex and yet very simple lives of her students, in a poetic way. The narrative constructs the sense of a young woman posing questions to herself about the world through which she moves without ever being clumsy or obvious. She muses about ways through which she can challenge her students and the establishment, wonders about how to nurture tomorrow’s leaders, and makes friends with her students in a very natural way. Outside school, she considers her relationships with her fiancé, her family, and her colleagues. Despite its subject, at no point does the narrative sink into saccharine or syrupy sentimentalism.

The protagonist is referred to as Ms. Hempel throughout the majority of the novel, even when the narration follows her and her observations. Only in the flashback sequences, in which the narrative recounts stories about her as a girl, or in scenes with her family is she referred to as Beatrice. This technique sets the reader in a formal relationship with the protagonist, allowing the author to create a sense of privilege when the reader is allowed to share Ms. Hempel’s secret memories and yearnings. Identifying her mainly as Ms. Hempel also points to the importance and impact the character associates with her identity as a teacher and a public figure.

The final chapter of the book leaps over a decade into the future, making a sudden shift that is somewhat disconcerting. All the thematic elements are there, including the sense of connection to events experienced by Ms. Hempel in the previous chapters, but the displacement of time and characters seems to come without warning. This chance meeting with one of her past students, now a young woman, is the only time at which the protagonist shifts from being identified as Ms. Hempel to be identified as Beatrice (other than in flashback sequences to childhood memories or family scenes). The shift highlights one of Ms. Hempel’s commitments: to making a difference in their lives, partially through being their friend.

I enjoyed the book. It was a pleasure to read: it’s smoothly written, and the language flows comfortably. Ms. Hempel’s thoughts and wonderings are presented with poetic imagery and yet feel natural. At 208 pages it was a quick and easy read, but the story is tightly crafted and well polished. Any longer and the narrative would lose its unity, or feel less structured. Nothing extraneous occurs or is included.

Many thanks to Mini Book Expo and Dan Wagstaff at Raincoast books, through whom I acquired a review copy of this book.

Publisher web site: http://www.harcourtbooks.com/
Distributor web site: http://raincoast.com/
Author web site: n/a

Inbox Amusement and Mailbox Joy

I am always amused when Amazon recommends one of my own books to me.

Today’s mailbox joy: My new glasses! Huzzah! Now I have to stop jumping when I pass a mirror. They’re very different from what I usually wear. Also handed to me by the postman were three secondhand books that I was beginning to suspect had gone astray.

Stupid Microsoft is making me download file conversion thingys so that I can actually open the Excel file that contains my assigned freelance work. Gnarr. I wonder what else it will make me do. (Ssh — there is a Macbook test in my future. Do you think Microsoft heard about it?)

And finally, I am cold. I’ve already put socks and slippers on, and I suspect I’m going to have to put a cardigan on over my long-sleeved t-shirt.

Day One: Conclusion

Lunch out with Ceri was fabulous. We haven’t seen one another since my birthday, and that was for all of ten minutes. We chatted about so many different things: some writing (she asked what Orchestrated was about and I’ve never had to sum it up for anyone before…. other than the three-paragraph synopsis, that is), games and gaming, houses, her experiences at voice recording sessions for the game she scripted, her experiences at Comic-Con demoing the game, and her recent trip to Germany for more of the same. (Travel stories are much more interesting than my staying-at-home stories.) Then we went and petted all the gorgeous quilts on display in the shop next door.

Once home, I sat down and wrote a book review for an uncorrected proof I’ve read as part of the Mini Book Expo project. I’ll proof it and polish it tomorrow if necessary, then post it. I’m all set for freelance work tomorrow, and I may divide the day into half for someone else, half for my own writing. (Which is theoretical payoff in the future, as opposed to immediate income. But I’ve been over this countless times to make it All Okay in my brain already.)

The boys should be home soon. I’ll be making my homemade tomato-onion sauce for pasta tonight, with tomatoes, onions, and basil from the garden. No, they’re actually pulling in now, so in a few moments I should hear how the boy’s first full day at preschool went. I imagine I’ll hear about it while he’s still in the driveway, actually.

(Ah yes: there he is, telling the neighbours, “Hi! I was at school! I had fun!” And he evidently napped a decent while too. Excellent.)

Preschool: Day One

HRH asked for my moral support in dropping the boy off at preschool this morning. “This is my school, Dada,” the boy said as we pulled up in front of it. This is where I work.” HRH and I exchanged amused glances at this. Because if HRH ‘works’ at a school, the boy’s school must be where he will ‘work’. We had to call him back to take off his shoes, and back again for hugs and kisses goodbye, just like on Friday. “It’s harder for the parents,” the teacher said. “Are you kidding?” we said. “We love this!” The boy flew back through the entryway and out the door to dance in front of two new arrivals, shouting, “Hi! I’m here!” and then leaping back into the entryway, throwing his hand out to indicate the newcomers and say to us, “These are my friends!” He then darted away through the corridor to the classroom. “Oh, yeah,” the teacher said, “he’s so ready for this.”

HRH took me to school with him after dropping the boy off, and I saw his office for the first time and did the first half of his morning walkabout with him. The work rooms are huge and airy, with lots of windows. The weather was just lovely today, too; it really felt like the first day of school. Not too hot, sunny with a scattering of fluffy clouds, a good breeze. I walked the ten minutes to the metro station, which is set in a terminal that looks remarkably like a modern airport, and figured out the new ticket system. I thought I was buying a permanent card that gets loaded with money and debited as you pass checkpoints but I ended up with six paper cards that get fed through the turnstiles and stamped with dates and such. I smiled all the way home through two metro rides and a bus ride. It’s such an incredible day in all respects. I love feeling like this.

When I finally got home after the hour and a half commute, there was no mail, alas. I was hoping for my new glasses. Tried to return a couple of phone calls without success.

On the way home I read some of A Thousand Days in Venice and made a connection that had been lacking about the Poppy book, which has been in mothballs for a couple of years. I realised that I have to work my protagonist through her fear of travel. It’s the obvious and logical conclusion to the conflict and the story, and I evidently needed those two years away from the book to see that. I’d been trying to work another story thread through, thinking it was the main issue and therefore the focal conclusion, and it wasn’t working properly in my head. Paired with the other Revelation, this may mean a finished novel by the end of the year. If I focused only on it, that is. Which I will very likely not do, as I don’t think it’s as marketable as some of my YA stuff. Whatever. I have lots of time to work on writing now; I don’t have to pick and choose what to cram into a day or so. A good thing, really, because I’m feeling somewhat blissfully bemused at what to do first today.

Today:

1. I have a new printer. Completely functional! Copying, scanning, printing without stress, at last. And for the low price of two ink cartridges too. Thank you, back to school sales. And I purchased an extended warranty, thankyouverymuch. No way this one is going to conk out on me without recourse. Now if I could just isolate what’s clogging up my CPU after startup…

2. The boy has secured a two-day slot in the preschool we wanted for him! This will likely be confirmed as a three-day position tomorrow. I think I’m going to continue with the local caregiver one day a week for now anyway, because the boy hasn’t seen two of his friends in ages. And this way I can get tons of work done (read: get back on the manuscript review wagon) and sock away some funds.

3. I am making a kick-ass pot roast for dinner. You wish you were here. No, really.

4. I finally did the Facebook thing. Except not quite. The pro name is a Public Person page; my alter-ego Autumn is the regular page. This should calm my wibbles about the whole thing. Also, this way I get to be a fan of myself. This is important for building self-confidence and belief in one’s own validity.

5. EMILY THE-PIRATE-QUEEN HORNER HAS JUST SOLD HER FIRST BOOK AND A SECOND AS-YET-UNWRITTEN BOOK!!! Yes, this deserves all-caps. I capered madly about the office when I read the news. If you were a YUL NaNo back in 2002 you might remember Emily as my personal quota bar and word count nemesis. I ended up passing 50K before she did, but she’s absolutely beaten me to the publishing of fiction. And I couldn’t be more thrilled by the news.

TGIF…

… except the day of the week doesn’t really have much effect on the day to day argh that’s been going on. At least I’m going out to dinner tonight with two excellent women, so that’s something to look forward to.

There’s been lots of argh and grr happening, and I feel like I’m being nibbled to death by ducks cats. Did two installs of XP on the dead laptop; it died twice. Swapped the hard drive, started again. So far things are okay, except it won’t connect to the Internet via ethernet cable, nor will the screen accommodate a resolution above the halfway mark, leaving a frame of black around the display. And the most annoying thing is that I can’t find my wireless card, despite turning out the laptop bag, my desk drawers, and most of my office closet. It has absolutely vanished. It’s a little thing but it was what gave me mobility, and not findign it made me very, very cranky. If I haven’t found it by the end of the weekend I’ll have to buy another one.

The boy has made up for his sweet twos by hitting us with the Terrible Threes. That’s all I’ll say on the subject.

I started reading Elisabeth Le Guin’s Boccherini’s Body, a music analysis text based on the performer’s physical experience playing Boccherini’s music, specifically the cello sonatas and his quartets. It’s a fascinating theoretical approach and I want to be enjoying it much more than I am. The first two chapters were all I could handle; after that I had trouble focusing and following the theory and analysis to such a point that I’d reread a few sentences over and over and the meaning wouldn’t sink in. I hasten to add that this is in no way the fault of the author or the material; it has more to do with the fibro fog. So I switched to Elizabeth Wilson’s recent bio of Rostropovich and am much happier.

I’m going through a tough fibro week with worse than usual weakness in the hands, and joints that feel like they’ve never been oiled, ever. This morning is particularly bad, and it isn’t improving the way it usually does as the day progresses; in fact, it’s getting worse. Good thing today’s freelance work is simple online research and filling in blank fields in an Excel sheet. If it doesn’t clear up by this afternoon I may have to cancel on the dinner out, though, which I really don’t want to do.

Thirty-Eight Months Old!

I think the biggest milestone over the past month has been Liam’s first official haircut. I’ve been cutting it myself at home when I could, but it was getting to the point where I couldn’t keep it as even as it should be, so in he went. He was pleasantly distracted by the movie they were showing (CARS!), and ran up to his stylist to thank her twice at the end of it all. He chose a red lollipop, naturally; they seem to be his favourites. The other big thing this past month has been the bike trailer. He has dragged everyone who has stopped by down to the garage to show it off.

His current favourite books are the Henry and Mudge series. Like lots of the other books we read together they’re early reader books, but they’re perfect to read aloud. Henry is a very Liamish boy. Mudge is, well, a huge Great Dane. Liam started calling Gryff Mudge for a while. And let me tell you, when they galumph and chase one another up and down the hall, Gryff certainly sounds like a Great Dane. (HRH told me the vet weighed Gryff when he was taken in with the infected bite, and he’s eleven pounds now. Gah.) I love looking in the rear view mirror while driving and seeing him sitting casually in his booster seat, legs loosely crossed, a book held open on his lap.

In the food division, the recent winners are ice cream bars on sticks, corn on the cob, and any kind of meat on a bone of some sort. Seriously. It gives us both great pleasure to watch him hold a bone in his hands and tear the meat off with his sharp little teeth. His snack of choice is fresh mangetout peas from the garden. (Note to self: plant lots and lots more mangetouts next year.) Last week he ate a banana as if it was a cob of corn — peeled it completely then held it horizontally and ate bites out of it that way. He has also discovered what he calls ‘iced cappuccinos’. I crush some ice cubes in the blender, add some milk and chocolate syrup, blend it all together, and serve it to him with a straw. It’s basically a chocolate milk frappé, but to him it’s a very grown-up drink and he loves it.

Current fave music is the Snacktime album by the Barenaked Ladies. He’ll even dance to it, and encourage other people to dance as well. He still won’t let other people sing it, though. “No,” he’ll say, “that’s my song.” Meaning, of course, that no one else is allowed to sing it. He’s still a big fan of ‘The Mesopotamians’ and ‘Dr. Worm,’ too.

He’s been having trouble with his sleep patterns lately. His naps have been comparatively brief (an hour instead of two), and he’s been fighting bedtime in general. He gets up after the door has closed, cries, and pushes our buttons. It’s hard to keep the frustration under wraps. He wakes up between five and six AM, often with a mid-night waking as well. We’re buying a set of bunk beds from HRH’s officemate next month, and I’m hoping the novelty of a big bed will help him stay in it. We’ll get to choose new sheets and a coverlet, too. We plan to set up the bunkbeds but leave the upper mattress and the ladder off the unit. Voila: instant tent once one has hung fabric off the two open sides.

On the other night-time hand, he’s only wearing a pull-up at night in case of emergency, and he’s dry more often than not. So good for him.

We’ve been having problems in general with whining and encountering resistance to any idea that isn’t his own. We try to remind him or tell him ahead of time about things so as to avoid the sudden change of direction or activity, but the immediate response to any prompt is still resistance. In fact, he’s been resisting things in general, running the gamut from deliberately doing the opposite of what we ask to simply ignoring us, to throwing a fit. I know he’s working things out, testing boundaries and confirming structure, but it’s very wearing. He’s also been very screechy and shouty. Liam is a very strong personality, and it’s hard to grit one’s teeth when he looks at you and does something deliberately to provoke you. Forget the terrible twos; these are the infamous threes. Not to imply that he’s a stress all the time; there are long stretches of fun and cheery Liam, and then suddenly there is a horrid moment of vexation derived from naughty behaviour or something positively Not On, for which he gets a turn in the Time Out chair. (Suddenly turning around and biting Mama for no reason until the teeth meet but the skin isn’t broken qualifies as one of those Not On things. Especially when followed by laughter.)

I figured it was about time he got to play with one of the consoles, so I bought Endless Ocean for him to play, and he’s having a ball. He feels extremely important holding the Wii remote, and once we’ve set the game up he won’t let us touch it. We’d opened it and played it before HRH came home that day, and Liam took great delight in showing HRH how things worked (going so far as to say, “Here, Dada, I’ll show you how it works” in a very officious manner). He’s lost his game a couple of times by hitting a sequence of buttons, but he doesn’t care; he likes being able to move the diver around and switch between first-person and third-person views. And he is very chuffed about having figured out where the A button is. He acquired his dolphin friend over the weekend and now has way too much fun making it do tricks.

When he sees that my computer is on he gathers a bunch of his trains up and patters into my office, eagerly saying, “Hi Mama, can I play in your office? Can I watch Thomas and friends?” He has discovered the joys of YouTube, and the seemingly endless supply of child-directed reenactments of Thomas episodes using the actual episode narration and toy trains moved around in front of a video camera. It’s the main reason I want the laptop up and running properly again, so I can work and he can do his internet-related stuff at the same time. ( “I’m working,” he said importantly the other day when I’d gotten the laptop up and running, albeit temporarily, as he sat there and typed away at the keyboard. “I’m sending you a message.”)

He is very sensitive, and he’s working that out in his own way too. He unintentionally made me cry the other day. He trundled his blanket-covered toy shopping cart up to me. “Mama,” he said in a coaxing singsong way, “I have a surprise for you!” “Really? A surprise?” I said. “Wow! What is it?” Liam whisked the blanket away to reveal the little stuffed black and white cat he now calls Maggie. “Ta-da!” he said. “It’s Maggie-cat!” And I burst into tears, surprising both of us. He looked very unsure as I reached out and picked the toy up and crushed it to my chest. “Thank you,” I said. “Mama?” he said uncertainly. “Are you okay?” “Yes, lovey,” I said through the tears. “It’s just that you surprised me. And I miss my Maggie-cat so very much, more than I thought I did, I guess.” He still looked kind of spooked, so I held out my arms and cuddled him along with the toy. I couldn’t stop the damn sobbing, not for a while. He cuddled me and patted my arm, and finally said, “It’s okay Mama. It’s just a stuffed Maggie.” And I laughed through my tears. I his world, it made sense. And sometimes we need to take a three-year-old’s point of view and say to ourselves yes, it’s just a stuffed Maggie. There’s no need to be upset. She’s something to squeeze and love and play with, and if we can’t have the real Maggie (as he seems to finally understand, or at least he’s stopped saying “We’ll find her again later” at any rate) then a stuffy is just fine.

Liam-themed posts over the past month:

– The new bike trailer
– Mama’s birthday, Liam’s first car wash, and Mama’s new bike

If you missed the 37 month post (and didn’t we all) I did one a couple of weeks ago and back-dated it.