A calm Fringe Sunday

Yesterday morning I  went to the Chapters store where I had arranged to meet up with a friend from Montreal.  She ended up being quite late, being dependent on relatives for rides, but we texted back and forth. Basically, we just went to the beer tent at the Fringe and hung out in the shade knitting and talking all afternoon. It was really nice and relaxed, and made me laugh at myself a bit for how reluctant I’d been to be social and disrupt my weekend.

Then I went to see one play, and then came home and went to bed.

ONEymoon – at the library, sold out. Light, funny, fictional, one-actor show. The actor is good at the Fringe-promotion thing – she added me on twitter just because I’d mentioned something about #yegfringe. She talked in Dutch for some of it (pretending to talk to her relatives at the wedding), and she had a couple of audience members come up to read speeches she gave them – one was in Dutch and the guy said “Can I do this in Spanish instead?” and the other guy started to add in extra stuff, which was actually pretty funny. Bob our retired computer guy was there (I remember seeing him at Fringe shows in other years).

Twitterverse tells me that American comic actor Zach Galifianakis attended a show I was at. I don’t think anyone’s seen Nathan Fillion though.

Fringe 2011: an easy day with five plays

Today I saw five plays at the Fringe. I also did some tidying and dishes and laundry this morning, went to the market, and between plays dropped off the shopping at home and lay down for a rest. As long as I park my bike on the perimeter instead of trying to walk it through the crowds to the main parking, this is easy.

Food notes for today: Nomad’s Kitchen is still good, the naan from the other place is precooked and nowhere near as good as the fresh naan from New Asian Village, and the wood-fired veggie pizza is really good.

Afternoon Delights and Emergency Exits – I’ve seen this modern dance company before, and I enjoyed them again, especially in the longer funny piece about flight attendants. They had the stylized gestures down pat.

The Big Smoke – This one-person narrative was my favourite show of the Fringe so far. It was poignant and very realistic. I won’t put any other spoilers until the run is over.

My Name is Jonas – comedy sketches loosely based on Weezer’s Blue Album, done by members of local improv company RapidFire Theatre. The funniest was the Jane Austen-esque dialogue that was full of sexual terms like cockblocking and wingman.

N.O.N.C.E – Another one-person narrative, this one written by the performer and mostly autobiographical. He’s an English performance poet, telling the stories of his time spent teaching poetry in a prison. I’ve recently read two books by people who taught creative writing in California prisons, and this guy was more interesting than either. It was more thought-provoking than I expected.

Bye Bye Bombay – A cast of one, but filling out the overwhelming impressions of a visit to India with video, music, puppets, dancing, a sari, and other props. The character was also dealing with the death of the mother she hadn’t gotten along with, and I was glad to see that theme done in an understated way.

Now that I understand how it works so I’m not embarrassed, I really like the way the Fringe artists advertise for their shows by talking to people. When done right, it feels intimate and sincere. Almost always it makes me more inclined to want to see the show (although I think the guy whose brother sings like Roy Orbison is annoying, reciting the same patter without making eye contact or maybe without knowing the right way to interrupt people comfortably). Also, after the applause the actors often recommend other shows and invite actors in the audiences to shout-out for their own. The N.O.N.C.E. guy talked to me yesterday. The When Harry Met Harry guy talked to our queue tonight and I told people I’d enjoyed his show. And there are several more on my wish list after encounters and recommendations.

I’ve always started out my show-shopping by trying to avoid one-person shows, because I used to feel like it was more interesting to watch the interactions in a larger cast. But I think I should change this rule, because I’ve seen so many good one-actor shows here and not just this year.

Fringe 2010: almost forgotten

When buying tickets for Fringe 2010, it was really bothering me that I couldn’t remember whether I’d been to any plays the year before.  Eventually I realised that I could see my order history from previous years on the Fringe tickets website. As I thought, last year I went to two plays one afternoon. They were called Seeking… and A Cynic Tells Love Stories.

I’m not sure which bugged me more, the idea that I might have missed a year or the idea that I might not have written it down. I’ve kept some kind of diary, journal, or datebook record of my life since I was nine years old, and I still have all of them.

First night at Fringe 2011

I went to the Fringe theatre festival when I’d lived here less than a week, and I first discovered Big Rock Traditional Ale (my current everyday favourite) at the beer tent that first Fringe.  Anyway, this year for the first time I managed to get one of the Frequent Fringer 10-show passes (they don’t sell very many). I’m going to use most of it this weekend because I have some weekend-night commitments and because next weekend I need to take it easy before the Sunday-morning half-marathon race.

When Harry Met Harry – a one-actor show about a man of fussy routines. A little bit of audience contribution. Australian actor, great facial expressions, funny.

9 Months to Mars – this was a comedy, but to me the best parts were the not-ridiculous parts, the credible characters and possible story. Plus, anything about space travel just has me from there. I really wish Defining Gravity hadn’t been cancelled after one season; even though it wasn’t perfect, it was a story.

I have four tickets to shows today, so far.

Folkfest 2011

I didn’t go to everything. Well, nobody can, because for half the time there are six stages going on at once. But also, I chose to pace myself by leaving early a few nights, arriving late one day, and skipping a couple of sessions to have down time.

For lots of the side-stage time slots, they schedule sessions, three or four acts together with some theme, and they take turns or jam together playing each other’s songs or covers or old standards. This is sometimes really fun to listen to and watch, and it looks like it’s fun for the musicians too. When I had a choice between a session like this and a concert, I almost always picked a session.

My notes are a jumble of whether they were good, whether I enjoyed them, whether they are my kind of music, and stuff I barely remember. I think that there are lots of musicians who do great live shows, but whose recordings I’m not likely to enjoy as much; I’m not entirely resolved on how to figure that out though.

The concerts I saw:
Angelique Kidjo – I got there partway through and wasn’t quite into it but she seemed really lively.
Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros – very lively, neat harmonies. Someone I talked to Friday didn’t like them but I did.
Gipsy Kings – they were great. I knew of them before but hadn’t really listened.
Lissie – impressive young woman
Taj Mahal Trio – old bluesman. To me the blues is more drinking music, and I’m not so fond of it in concerts.
Noah and the Whale – these ones I had pegged from the description as “my kind of music” and I wasn’t far wrong. Young, English, indie-rock, conscious-hipster suits and hairdos. I hadn’t heard of them before so I was thinking “I bet their music’s been on the soundtrack of “Being Human”, but oddly it hasn’t been yet. So far, I actually liked their concert better than their CD.
Kíla – I think this was my favourite first-time listen. They sing in Irish and play traditional instruments but their sound is more hard-driving rock-ish. I loved watching their bodhran player, and I hope that I manage to express that much joy and energy in anything I do.
Del McCoury Band and the Preservation Hall Jazz Band – a mix of instrumental jazz and bluegrass, which I have to admit made me sleepy.
Blackie and the Rodeo Kings – Colin Linden, Stephen Fearing, Tom Wilson. Were also great.
Deer Tick – the only side-stage concert I saw. They were new to me and good.
Andrew Bird – violin, guitar, and whistling – I actually didn’t listen to him that much, although I was sitting there for the whole set. Oops.
Lyle Lovett and his Large Band – Everything this guy said between songs was weird, or an unfinished thought.
kd lang and the Siss Boom Bang – k.d. lang was really in fine form. I have never seen her in concert before. A friend said that she used the same setlist at Calgary folk festival. She played some of her old familiar songs “Miss Chatelaine” and “Constant Craving”, some other people’s songs, Neil Young’s “Helpless”, a Talking Heads song, and “Hallelujah”, and I forget what else. She seemed relaxed and comfortable and funny on stage.

Sessions I went to and short sets between mainstage acts:

Clancy, Bracken, and McCarthy, Delhi2Dublin, and JP Cormier – I loved Delhi2Dublin at Blue Skies, and I sought them out here so I could dance. It was also neat to see how they combined with the traditional Celtic musicians and traditional Cape Breton fiddler, doing some jigs and reels together and then playing backup on each other’s songs.

The Once, De Temps Antan, Jeremy Fisher, and Amelia Curran – I got there after the introductions, so I’m not positive that the woman whose voice I loved was the woman in The Once.

James Keelaghan, Tim Robbins, Sean Rowe, Mary Gauthier – This was the best session I attended, with a theme of “And they call it democracy”. James Keelaghan was the host. He is like another Stan Rogers – he looks like my favourite university librarian and he made me cry. Mary Gauthier was fascinating, and her backup fiddler Tania Elizabeth was extremely cute. And one of Tim Robbins’ backup guitarists looked very familiar to me. I never did place him, except to guess that maybe I just think he looks like the TV character John Munsch.

Colin Linden, John Rutherford, Amos Garrett, Matt Andersen – I loved Matt Andersen at Blue Skies, and I still think he’s great. But I was mostly overwhelmed and should probably have taken a break, since I don’t remember much about this session.

Bill Bourne, Kat Danser, Ky Babyn, John Rutherford, Kayla Patrick – this session of Alberta musicians was recorded for a CBC radio show, so it was more polished and programmed than most. Kayla Patrick and Ky Babyn are both very young local singer-songwriters and I imagine I’ll run into them both again. Bill Bourne is sort of a weirdo. Kat Danser is a local young woman with a huge powerful bluesy voice and songs full of unsubtle innuendo, like a younger Georgette Fry.

Serena Ryder, Brandi Carlile, Jeremy Fisher, and Deer Tick – this was a good session and my only chance to see Brandi Carlile whom everyone was talking about. Serena Ryder is hilarious.

Tweeners I saw/heard between main stage sets included Matt Anderson, Mighty Popo, Kat Danser, and some more I forget.

Musicians I missed: Brandi Carlile on mainstage, Garnet Rogers, The McDades

Musicians I bought recordings of: kd lang, Kíla, Noah and the Whale, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes, James Keelaghan, Mary Gauthier, Blackie&the Rodeo Kings, delhi2dublin, Kat Danser.

Cucumbers

What do you call the cucumbers that aren’t English cucumbers?

When I was in the grocery store yesterday trying to figure out what I might like to eat, I bought one. Today I ate the whole thing in sandwiches with a bit of mayo, and it was delicious, and I don’t know why I hadn’t been buying them more often.

I asked this question tonight of my tv-watching friends and their net connections, and we thought of “normal cucumbers”, “traditional cucumbers”, “garden cucumbers”, “slicing cucumbers”, and “field cucumbers”.

I first encountered long English cucumbers wrapped in clingfilm as something that the farm I worked at bought at a wholesaler and sold. I’ve never liked them all that much. People mostly leave the thin skins on, and I don’t like the skins. But I’d forgotten how much I like the other kind. They’re juicy and flavourfull and they respond well to salt, mayonnaise, or dips. I can’t wait to get another one.

I think that maybe after they started selling this kind too, the farm started calling the other kind “field cucumbers”.

There was a story in L.M. Montgomery’s The Story Girl where a character says that cucumbers and milk, taken before bedtime, generate vivid dreams. I can’t tell you tomorrow whether that’s true, since I ate the cucumber this morning and I’m drinking rock-chilled whisky now.

Living-history visit, and observations

Today I visited Fort Edmonton Park, a living-history museum with areas re-creating four eras in local history: the Hudson’s Bay Company trading fort of 1846, the pre-railway settlement of 1885, the boomtown of 1905, and the more modern city of 1920. I really enjoy pioneer villages and other living-history sites, and this is a good one. (One website claims it as the largest in Canada, but I think Fortress of Louisbourg is probably still bigger.)

On this hot sunny day, I didn’t try to see all of it in my first visit. I didn’t go to the Fort at all, and I just visited a few buildings on the 1920 street.  I focused on the two eras in between.

Among the things that I noticed or thought about while I was there were the following.

  • Almost all the white settlers and residents commemorated by name were born in Ontario, not in England or elsewhere in the British Isles or Europe.
  • So all this settlement, railway access, and development happened generations later than it did in the places I’d lived before this.
  • It’s neat to see historical re-creation of relatively recent eras. My dad was born in the 1920s and lived in a city, and my mum was born in the 1930s but spent much of her childhood in a poor rural northwestern Ontario settlement, so much of what’s shown would be familiar to them.
  • Heck, some of it is familiar to me, because of how we lived at Kareen, the cottage which was built in the early 20th century and never changed much after that. I remember the costumed interpreter at some site in Nova Scotia talking down to 12yo Ann asking if she could guess what something was. “Oh, that’s just a washboard and washtub. My dad uses one of those every week,” she said. I feel really lucky that we got to use those artifacts, not as a museum stunt but as our ordinary life – the toaster that you had to watch and flip by hand, the manual water pump, the Quebec heater – just as my mum got to experience the one-room-schoolhouse for a few months when they had nowhere to live in the city.
  • But I bet that in my lifetime, there will be museum representations of how people lived in suburbs in the 1960s. In the Museum of Science and Tech. in Ottawa there is/was a little display of “modern” kitchens of the 1950s and 1960s.
  • I wonder if I should suggest to the siblings to keep an eye out for potential museum donations in the cottage shed.
  • It’s also interesting to look at household artifacts during this time of handing down china and furniture from our parents and grandparents. In one cozy single-room 1885 house, the costumed interpreter pointed to what I’d call a china cabinet or hutch, saying that the dishes in there weren’t the residents’ “good china”, but would be all their dishes, used for every meal. Our grandparents and parents had china cabinets of good china, teacups, fine glassware, and curious, but only used it on special occasions, and now we’re inheriting it all, probably with even less inclination to use it. Our bone china cups and saucers look very like those on display in the 1905 bazaar. I want to try to use everything I inherited, and I wish I knew more of its provenance.
  • Two of my favourite things on most pioneer-village/re-enactment visits are watching blacksmiths at work and watching weaving, from small handlooms to larger mechanised weaving machinery like at Upper Canada Village. Oddly, I didn’t see either today – I saw a smithy, but not operational, and I didn’t see any weaving at all. Many of the female interpreters were carding wool or knitting with single-ply handspun wool. One young interpreter pointed out the spinning wheel but explained that she was just learning. The gift shop did have some ceintures fléchées for sale.

Anyway, I had a good day, and I’m definitely going to return.  I rode the steam train, the streetcar, and the carousel, but not the ferris wheel.  I ate a cinnamon bun from the 1905 bakery, and a meal at Hotel Selkirk.

Getting there by transit takes a little planning, since the maps application on my iphone doesn’t include the special shuttle that runs on summer Sundays.  The shuttle runs once an hour to/from South Campus station.  You can also get off the #4 bus and walk in from Fox Drive, about 2 km.  (Don’t pay attention to the signs about a shuttle taking pedestrians across a bridge with closed sidewalks; that’s not relevant.)

Death Cab for Cutie

Last night I went to see Death Cab for Cutie at the Shaw Conference Centre. It was downstairs, in a venue that I’d previously experienced as a large carpeted banquet room. I went straight from work, and my concertgoing experience started when one of the crowd of eight v. young people on my train car called out “Anybody going to Death Cab?” and I said “I am” as I walked to my seat and got out my e-reader. “Really??” they asked, and then asked which station to get off at and how to get there from the station, and whether I would tell them when the station was coming up. A disreputable fellow sitting next to me thought this was really funny, asked whether I was a teacher, and asked whether I needed his rolled up Metro paper to keep them in line. Then there were some questions like “Why do YOU like Death Cab?” and “What’s your favourite song of theirs?” and “Have you heard their new single?” (I hadn’t, I’m waiting to get the album) that amused me but also made me feel like a weirdo.

Crowd control measures in the Shaw included turning off all the escalators and letting people move off the stairs a few at a time. Pre-warned by a friend, I checked my bag with knitting in it. I didn’t get patted down, I bought a tour shirt at the merch table, and inside the venue I went through the ID-checking corral to get a wristband to let me enter the “beer garden” – a lighted space at the far back where adults could buy and drink alcohol. It was $6 a drink, and although I usually think it’s a good sign when the beer’s something I’ve never heard of, Molson Old Style Pilsner isn’t. At least they let me hold the can, rather than pouring into bad plastic, though. I talked to my pub-knitting friend Wendy and friends of hers, and then decided to head into the floor crowd before the end of the opening act Bright Eyes to see how close I could get.

Moving up slowly when other people left got me to within about 10 standees of the stage, where I stuck it out for more than half the Death Cab set until I got overheated and restless, so I watched the rest from the beer garden and the back of the floor. There were also shallow bleachers on both sides of the floor.

It was a good show. They didn’t chatter much, although they did thank the opening musicians, say that it had been too long since they’d visited Edmonton (5 yrs?) and remind us their new album’s coming out Tuesday. The sound quality was good enough that I could hear sufficient lyrics of the few unfamiliar songs to work out what they were afterwards. Ben Gibbard’s voice was very recognisable, but since I hadn’t done any homework I didn’t know which of the other guys were which. If you don’t know Death Cab for Cutie, I could say that they’re described as “alternative rock” or “indie rock”, but they seem to be on the mainstream end of that, not as hard-edged as some of what I listen to. They have clever sad singable lyrics.

Unfortunately I’ve lost my setlist and notes, but it turns out that now last.fm is linked with setlist.fm, so I have access to a consensus version. They didn’t do all their most famous songs, but it was a good mix across most of their albums.

My ears were not ringing at all afterwards. It didn’t seem too loud at the time even though I didn’t bother with earplugs, and my part of the crowd was quite civilised (an awful lot of them were young girls about my height, which was handy.) I love standing up close to the stage feeling the bass in my chest with just enough space to move with the beat – but as I’ve said before, I wish there were venues with the civilised comforts of Edmonton Folk Music Festival or Blue Skies and more of this kind of music. What I need to do next is to check out some of the bar venues, such as Starlite Room or Pawnshop, and I’ve been reluctant to do that by myself because I always feel horribly self-conscious and vulnerable as a demographically-atypical newbie.

More than at any of the other concerts I’ve been to, I was struck by the high level of smartphone use. When Bright Eyes had some technical difficulty for a minute, their frontman cracked “Just hang on a minute, go back to playing Angry Birds on your phones or else experience the real live 3-D music the way it happens.” I took some photos and video – and it was quite difficult to do so without anyone else’s iphone viewfinder in the way. I can see that it detracts from the sense of intimacy with the musicians in the days when everyone was just swaying and singing and waving lighters, and I could also notice in myself that the temptation to get the perfect setlist and best picture and video of a whole song were distancing me a bit from the sensation (but I’d still be doing the setlist thing with a pen, anyway). But everything that I was doing on line and everything I was close enough to read on other people’s phones was all about the concert. So … I dunno. Here are some pictures, though.

The picture of the set-up crew was basically to show how close I was and test whether it would be hopeless to try to take pictures of the band. Other patrons were using the digital zoom on their phones, but I try not to use digital zoom and just crop as needed afterwards, and that’s about as good as I got holding the phone at head level. My videos aren’t bad, but the sound quality is crap and I would keep forgetting not to move, so the picture bounces.

roadies deathcab3

Among Others – notes on a book, with updates Nov 2012

Jo Walton’s newest book, Among Others, was published last week. There are lots of good and useful positive reviews of it on line, like this one from Locus.

Mostly I don’t write book reviews, because I don’t feel sufficiently competent and because it seems unfair that half the books I want to recommend are books by people I know. Oddly, I have no problem writing about television or movies from a casual viewer’s perspective. Despite all those disclaimers — and the additional one that I actually got to read an earlier version of this manuscript a couple of years ago — I want to tell you that I really liked Among Others, and to tell you a bit more about it because you might like it too.

Among Others is a real-world-with-magic book, a boarding-school story, a trauma-survivor story, a story told through the protagonist’s diary, and a story about someone who reads and how the books she reads inform her life. I like all those subgenres of books. So it is not at all surprising that I loved Among Others when I first read it, and that I have enjoyed both rereads so far and laughed out loud and cried in the bath.

The magic in the world of Among Others is subtle. It’s subtle enough that a reader inclined to look for mundane and psychological explanations could often grasp at them. But it is not trivial or consequence-free, for the user or for other people. This would explain why most people don’t seem to know about magic — because sane people who can use it rarely do.

I like boarding-school stories in general, although my favourites are the introvert-outsider stories of Madeleine L’Engle’s And Both Were Young, Kit Pearson’s The Daring Game, and some Australian story in a Virago Press edition, rather than Malory Towers, Chalet School, Chrestomanci, or Hogwarts. The solitary protagonist of Among Others has all the troubles you might expect when an awkward outsider arrives partway through the term, but she has such a strong sense of self (and a safe place to write about it, see below) that she never seems to be consumed by the petty social troubles and bullying that she endures. This is credible, because although she’s mostly stuck at the school she does have a bit of outside life and she also has interior life with time to write and read undisturbed while the rest of them are having Games. Also, it’s clear from some of her asides that she’s already endured much worse physically and emotionally before she got to the school.

I like stories of people who have recently been bereaved or divorced, stories that are about the going-on-afterwards. Mostly these are contemporary fiction stories. I can’t think of what other fantasy stories are mostly about what happens after saving the world at a cost. (The end of Lord of the Rings is great – but it’s not where the story starts.) In Among Others, the main part of the story starts after something both important and awful, with a protagonist who is struggling with loss, still trying to figure out her place in the magic, and trying to make sense of altered personal circumstances as well.

One problem with stories that are ostensibly written as the protagonist’s diary entries is that you have to think about whether the diary is secure. I grew up in a house with a lot of people and little respect for autonomy, so my first thought about diary entries in fiction is whether it’s realistic to expect them to be private. Either the diary discovery will be a plot point (I was scarred young by Harriet the Spy) or the protagonist is writing even less truth than she can bear to think, or the novelist is sort of cheating. In Among Others, though, I found it credible that the diary entries could be both frank and secure, because she says she’s writing them in mirror writing as well as keeping her notebook in her ubiquitous bag – and later mentions getting a locking notebook for Christmas.

The protagonist of Among Others is 15 years old in 1979, and a science fiction and fantasy reader. She reads a lot, comments on what she reads, and also uses her reading experiences to make sense of human behaviour. Although I was a few years older, I didn’t start buying my own books until shortly before 1979, so it was particularly fun to have Mori discovering some of the same new fiction that I was. I still remember discovering The Number of the Beast as an endcap display at the university bookstore, and extravagantly buying the trade paperback on the spur of the moment. Her observations on the books are pithy, opinionated, sometimes funny, and completely in character, and they’ve reminded me of a bunch of books I should read or re-read. I don’t know very many books about people who not only read but use their reading as a way of making sense of the life-outside-books that’s happening concurrently. Pamela Dean’s Tam Lin, of course, is another good example, just with a different reading list. And the Tam Lin protagonist, Janet, grew up in an apparently sane and supportive environment such that she hasn’t needed the books to work out how to behave, the way that Mori probably did.

In Canada you can buy Among Others in hardcover for an ordinary hardcover price (less than $30 full price, less than $20 on line at Chapters), or in a Kindle version for around $10. Greenwoods bookstore in Edmonton had a few ordered for the shelves the day I went in to get my pre-order. I understand that access is similar in the USA. But the weird and disappointing bit is that there’s no British hardcopy publication and currently no British sales of electronic versions either. It seems like SF/F fans in Britain would probably embrace the familiarity of Mori’s 1979-1980 reading list even more than those of us in North America, and it seems like if there are young people in Britain today depending on libraries for their science fiction and their real life and hope, they might benefit from this book more than the middle-aged fans who can order books from overseas or disguise their IP addresses to fool the Kindle store. I kind of wish there was a feasible fund to donate copies to libraries in Britain.

———-

Update, November 2012:

Since I wrote this entry, Greenwoods bookstore is no more.

But Among Others has won the Best Novel Hugo 2012, the Best Novel Nebula 2011, and the British Fantasy Award 2012.  The other piece of good news is that Among Others has been published in the UK by Constable and Robinson.

More cocktails

1 part Cranberry liqueur
4 parts ginger ale
1 part Cuban rum
Shake with ice in a water bottle.

This one was pretty good but not great. I think the rum taste was distracting. Maybe I need to get some vodka, if I am looking to beef-up some flavoured-alcohol drinks. It doesn’t have a name yet.

1 part Bailey’s Irish cream
1 part Voyant chai cream liqueur
1 part Kahlua
0.5 part Grand Marnier

Since everything was in the fridge I couldn’t be bothered with the shaker, I just stirred it and licked off the spoon. This was very good. It’s like the ingredients of the layered shooter B-52, with the chai liqueur added, so I decided it should be named after a bomber airplane of the Indian Air Force and went looking for one. Hence, Shamsher.