Student of Weather

Hay, Elizabeth. A Student of Weather. Washington D.C.: Counterpoint, 2000.

A Student of Weather is a car without brakes. No. A Student of Weather is a car without brakes set at the top of a very tall hill. No. A Student of Weather is a car without brakes set at the top of a very tall hill…and someone gives it a push. This is what is was like to read Elizabeth Hay’s first novel. It started off easy enough, slow enough, gentle enough, harmless enough. Then, without any warning at all it is careening crazily almost out of control. Impossible to stop. Stopping the read proved impossible, too. I seriously couldn’t put it down.

As mentioned before, the story starts out simply. Maurice Dove is a researcher, come to study the weather of Saskatchewan. He stays with the Hardy family – Ernest and his two daughters Lucinda and Norma-Joyce. Both daughters, despite being very young, fall in love with Mr. Dove. From there, simplicity comes to a halt.  A Student of Weather is a novel full of contrasting themes. While Lucinda is fair-haired, beautiful and virtuous Norma-Joyce is dark-haired, impulsive and outspoken. While both sisters find ways to fall in love with their visitor, both also find ways to hate each other. Even the landscapes within the story are contrasting. Norma-Joyce’s childhood prairie home cannot compare to the bustling city of her adulthood, New York City. As time progresses and Norma-Jean grows to be a woman with a child of her own, even her child is a conflicted in personality – both shy and loud simultaneously.

On the surface this seems like a love story – two sisters vying for the affections of a traveling man who loves neither of them. Digging deeper it is a story of betrayal and survival. It is the story of pain and loss and the idea that not every broken heart gets mended.

There were many, many, many favorite lines. Here are some of the best:
“Had she been able to , she would have kept the water he washed in, the skin that flaked away, the warm breath that hovered in the cold air above his head, his footprints in the snow” (p 96). I love how each item becomes something less obtainable. Had I written the line I would have reversed the order of the last two items.
“Maybe that’s all anyone wants in the end, to be remembered rather than overlooked’ (p 112). Simple line, but I loved it.
“She understood that you can pass from summer to winter in someone’s mind without even leaving the room” (p 172). Tragically beautiful. Been there, but who hasn’t?
“But returning is never easy, and nor is September” (p 283). Since I can add a car accident and a death to September sadness, I agree. Completely.

BookLust Twist: From Book Lust in two different chapters. In ” Canadian Fiction” (p 50) and again in “First Novels” (p88).

Look You in the Eye

So small

I had a funny thoughtquestion yesterday. It came out of someone else acting tougher than need be. When is it okay to say you need? When is it okay to lean on someone else for support even though you know damn well you can do it all by yourself? If my father had his way for my life he wouldn’t have wanted me to need anyone for anything. “Figure it out for yourself” he would have said. Be tough, be strong. Be blahblahblah.
Wrong.
I have this friend. This amazing friend who I sometimes complain to, bitch to, vent to, rant to. She listens with every fiber of her being and then tells me what I already know. I need her in my life to keep me sane. I may think I’m having an insane moment; a very insane moment, but she’ll reel me back in and tell me what’s logical about my lunacy. I don’t need her yet I do.
I have this husband. This wise-azz, smart, sensible husband who I sometimes whine to, cry to. I ask him permission to buy spooky signs, giant pumpkins and haunted villages. I need him in my life to keep my budget grounded. I may think I can afford every ghost, cat, witch and skull that comes along but he’ll reel me back in and tell me what’s illogical about my yearnings. He tells me what I already know. I don’t need him yet I do.
I have this life. This funny, crazy, vulnerable life which I sometimes think isn’t worth bothering with. I see black clouds and glass-half-empties all the time and often I find myself asking what’s the point? It’s then that I realize I need this life just the way it is, just the way it turned out. I can look you in the eye and say it. I need you.

But You Love Me Anyway

Rock Love
New love has quirks that are considered cute and lovable. Those things that a new lover says and does that are oh so different and revealing and disregarded. Those things are even adorable for a little while. Then, reality bites. Hard. There comes that time after the dust of desire has settled and new love matures into you and me, not one without the other. A given that you and me will be together. That’s when quirky becomes quite something else. Confusing. Contradicting. Infuriating. How we deal with these things that were once so lovable is a good indication of new loves maturity into real love. For me, adding up the quirks and realizing you are still with me is how I know you still love me. Regardless.

I was on the phone with a friend so I couldn’t quite comprehend the conversation occuring without me. I heard something about shoes. Something about a wallet. You were laughing. I knew you could only be discussing my quirks. With my friends no less. Some of whom have a whole wealth of stories on their own. I brought this on myself. I know I did.

It started innocently enough. It was last week. I was cooking curry turkey burgers and had somehow put the buns together wrong. Top with a top, bottom with a bottom. Still edible in my mind – just not pretty to look at. I’ve done it a hundred times before. You came down the stairs in time to hear me swear, in time to watch me try to flip bottom bun for a top. I turned to you and hissed through gritted teeth, “I will always leave my shoes in the middle of the floor. I will always misplace my keys. And. I will ALWAYS put the wrong halves of the buns together! So. You’ll just have to deal with it!” Instead of taking the bait. Instead of picking the fight I was wanting to have, you smiled at me and said gently, “I know something else you will always do.” Forgetting to be angry I dropped the fight and stopped dead. “What?” I wanted to know. “I’ll give you a hint” you replied as you proceded to close every cabinet door in the kitchen. What can I say? I was cooking like a fiend and didn’t have time to close cabinets!

I like tallying the quirks. I like seeing the oddities add up. The longer the list, the more I know you love me. Despite it all you love me anyway.
For the record:

  • I take my shoes off wherever and just leave them for kisa to trip over
  • I leave cups of half finished coffee in odd places, fully intending to finish them later (until they mold)
  • I lose my wallet, keys and/or phone on a regular, sometimes daily, basis
  • I leave cabinet doors open
  • I cannot put burgers together correctly
  • I hand material objects to random people and won’t remember it later
  • I have to cover restaurant food with a napkin when I’m finished
  • I cannot open resealable bags without somehow ruining the ziplock

To the love of my life. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for being my lover. Thank you for making me strive to be a better person. I may have my quirks but my life is perfect with you in it. Happy anniversary!
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Time Traveler’s Wife

Niffenegger, Audrey. The Time Traveler’s Wife. Orlando: Harcourt: 2003.

This was a reread for me. I first read it on a cruise and it seemed only fitting to reread it on my vacation in California. The first time I read The Time Traveler’s Wife I ached to map out a time line for the story. I wanted to chart Henry’s comings and goings. Reading it a second time was no different.
The Time Traveler’s Wife is the intricate love story of Henry DeTamble and Clare Abshire. Henry is a Chicago librarian who visits the opera, beats people up, and just happens to have a genetic disorder that not only causes him to involuntarily time travel, but gives him the ability to duplicate and visit himself at various stages of his life.
Clare Abshire is an artist and the object of Henry’s affection. Henry’s ability to time travel brings the couple together when young Clare is as young as six years old. As a result, Clare must endure waiting for Henry to time travel back to her. Her wait is made easier by a list of dates of when Henry will return.
While the main story focusses on Henry and Clare’s unusual romance life and world events go on around them. Sex, drugs and rock and roll give way to the aids epidemic and advances in science. Soon doctors are looking for a cure for Henry’s genetic disorder. Because Henry cannot control his time travel he seems to disappear during times of stress or some other great emotion. For example, haunted by the memory of his mother’s tragic death, Henry visits the scene of the accident again and again. Throughout it all, Clare stays by his side as best as she can given the unusual circumstances.

BookLust Twist: In More Book Lust twice. First, in the chapter called “Maiden Voyages” (p 158), and again in the chapter called “Time Travel” (p 221). How appropriate!