Reading

If you’d like to be convinced of Henry Oliver’s “Ten reasons to read great literature in 2026” I’d suggest Sleepwalker in a Fog by Tatyana Tolstaya for the first two… “particular pleasure” and “the force of language”. I mean, sure, read any great literature you would like, but having just surfaced from this one, this slim volume of short stories, I feel a little like laughing along with the jollity of her descriptions, I feel like I’ve been awash in the brilliance and control of her use of words. Here are two quotations:

People assert themselves, sink their hooks in, refuse to go - it's only natural! Take the recording of a concert, for example. A hush falls over the hall, the piano thunders, the keys flash like lozenges gone berserk, lickety-split, hand over fist, wilder and wilder; the sweet tornado swirls, the heart can't stand it, it'll pop right out, it quivers on the last strand, and suddenly: ahem. Ahe he kherr hem. Khu khu khu. Someone coughed. A real solid, throaty cough. And that's that. The concert is branded from birth with a juicy, influenza stamp, multiplied on millions of black suns, dispersed in all possible directions. The heavenly bodies will burn out, the earth will become crusted in ice, and the planet will move along inscrutable stellar paths like a frozen lump for all time, but that smart aleck's cough won't be erased, it won't disappear, it will be forever inscribed on the diamond tablets of immortal music - after all, music is immortal, isn't it? - like a rusty nail hammered into eternity; the resourceful fellow asserted himself, scribbled his name in oil paint on the cupola, splashed sulfuric acid on the divine features. [From the title story, “Sleepwalker in a Fog”]
Having company in the country - it's not like having company in the city. There's a pleasant lack of obligation. In the city a guest won't just drop in, he'll phone first to say, I'd like to come by and visit you. The hostess will glance quickly at the floor: is there a lot of dust? - she'll do a mental check: is the bed still unmade? - she'll give a nervous thought to the refrigerator shelves - all in all, it makes for tension. Stress. But in the country none of that matters: what to sit on, what to drink, or from what cups. And it's no disaster if you leave a guest alone for five minutes - in the city that's a cardinal sin, but not in the country. It's a different type of hospitality. The guest lounges in a wicker armchair, has a smoke or just sits quietly, gazing out the window at the view, at the sky, and there's a sunset playing through all its colors - it'll give off a red or lilac stripe, then a golden crust will flare on a cloud, or everything will be tinged with a frosty green or lemon - a star will sparkle... Better than television. [From a story titled “Heavenly Flame”]

Eating

Last Sunday, I made this Sheet Pan Chicken with Tomatoes and Chickpeas by Carla Lalli Music and it was well liked!

I was very happy to receive The Big Book of Bread (see here) as a gift on my birthday and chose, as a first recipe, Knackebrot to feature in a platter. It’s an intriguing bread, flat and seedy, but, as the recipe’s introduction says, it is flavourful and lightly sweet.

The New Year’s Eve spread at a friend’s house looked like this:

Photo credit: Sébastien Forest

It reminds me that I should mention a fruit dip we really like… Contrary to most fruit dip recipes found online, this one doesn’t feature cream cheese. I suspect it’s consequently a bit lighter. I hadn’t kept the little cookbook it came in, called Rookie Cook, from the Company’s Coming series, and I regretted that decision just for this recipe. Fortunately, the Internet Archive has a copy you can borrow and because of that, I had the pleasure of being able to serve it to the kids and share in their enjoyment of it!

Cool Fruit Dip
From Jean Paré’s cookbook Rookie Cook (p. 23)

¾ cup marshmallow crème
½ cup sour cream
1 tablespoon brown sugar, packed
½ teaspoon vanilla
2 cups frozen whipped topping, thawed

Beat marshmallow crème, sour cream, brown sugar and vanilla together in medium bowl until blended and brown sugar is dissolved.

Fold in whipped topping. Makes 2½ cups.

Happy Sunday!

Reading

Contrast can serve to highlight appreciation for something and this was the case when I was reading Bonnie Tsui’s book On Muscle, and also reading a short story collection by Tatyana Tolstaya. In “Serafin” Tolstaya writes from the character’s point of view of disdain for humanity: “Fat is nauseating muck. The whole world of flesh - is fat. Fatty, sticky children, fatty old ladies, fatty redheaded Magda.” (p 48) But Tsui, focusing on muscle, delves into its various intricacies with an infectious appreciation. Here is a collection of quotes from the book that I liked:

Being a writer as well as a lifelong athlete, I can’t help but notice how language is telling. Muscle means so much more than the physical thing itself. We’re told we need different metaphorical muscles for everything: to study, to socialize, to compete, to be compassionate. And we’ve got to exercise those muscles - putting them to use, involving them in a regular practice - for them to work properly and dependably. (p 4)
The way you build muscle is by breaking yourself down. Muscle fibres sustain damage through strain and stress, then repair themselves by activating special stem cells that fuse to the finer to increase size and mass. You get stronger by surviving each series of little breakdowns, allowing for regeneration, rejuvenation, regrowth. (p 5)
In big ways and small, life is a movement-based relationship with everything around us. Muscles make my fingers fly across these keys, knit my brow in concentration, correct my seated posture, shift my gaze to the window, square my shoulders, tap out the rest of this sentence. So much has become virtual, and yet my body still very physically influences my thoughts even as it conveys them to you. Your own muscles allow your eyes to take this in, to blink thoughtfully and tuck your chin in hand and tilt your head in consideration. We haven’t said a word, but our bodies are talking to each other - even through the page (…). (p 12)
Exerting our influence on the world: That’s the modern-day definition of a flex. (p 13)
Maybe that’s what makes some people uneasy: muscle as potential. And sometimes we don’t know our own power, until, finally, we are given the opportunity to discover it. (p 27)
For all its nobility, the pursuit of mightiness remains grounded in the body and all of its appetites. But the strength community’s insatiable curiosity about the human body is something I find surprisingly moving. To know one’s own strength: I’ve come to understand the meaning of these words not as a binary statement, an “I do” or an “I don’t,” but as an ongoing process of discovery. Muscles matter - they allow us, in an observable way, to see what we can do. Though you may not initially know what you’re capable of, you have vast reservoirs of potential, waiting to be tapped. For just the right moment to be revealed. (p 44)
(…) there is a process in place for human donor dissection, and with that process comes a reverence that helps you to understand the privilege of getting to look. Head, hands, and feet are wrapped before dissection. And at the end of every academic year, a special memorial is held (…). (p 52)
Interoception is your body’s ability to sense itself from inside. (p 142)

All these quotes show a respect for the human body that the character in Serafin does not want to see and both writers make their point with the deft use of language. Words can be so strong…

Cards

Cards are divisive. The postal service has only to go on strike for a debate to flare up dramatically in the news. Cards are important. Cards don’t matter… Cards take time. My grandma could dash off a stack of 80. Or was it 100? But cards are like everything else: cookies and food and Christmas trees… home-made or store-bought or real or fake. There are hundreds of permutations for celebrating Christmas and just as many ways of dispersing one’s energy for this demanding season. And so with all that in mind, juggling our own list of pros and cons, I made this year’s Christmas cards by hand and cut the envelopes from old wrapping paper. (This envelope tutorial was perfect!) At a time when AI is spinning reality to ever greater heights of improbability, a return to basics felt reassuring and solid. (I think this is what B. Dylan Hollis is getting at in his appreciation of vintage cards here on Instagram.)

Baking

There’s a Nanaimo bar chilling in the fridge, but earlier this week, I tackled the start of this year’s baking with blondies and brownies…

Eating

Making things a little less demanding in the kitchen while I concentrate on cards and baking, are old favourites, like Jamie Oliver’s “Mini shell pasta with a creamy smoked-bacon and pea sauce.”

Postcards

This week, there were two days featuring a sundog in the sky, and Friday’s was so big, it reflected itself on the windows of the U of M’s Pembina Hall student residence.

Happy Sunday!