When regularly relying on the library in Toronto, with dozens of bookmarks holding my place in borrowed stacks, the idea of writing about my library usage seemed impossible.

Now living a few hours north, where funding for libraries is limited, my visitor’s card gets relatively little use. In the context of this local branch, maybe my usage still seems high, and the librarians are simply too polite to mention my small stacks of holds and my sporadic inter-library loan requests!

The other two stacks I’ve spied on the hold shelves, near mine, have been children’s books—I’ve been reading some of those as well. In this branch, the children’s section is downstairs, with CDs and biographies (separated from the rest of the non-fiction) and some community meeting rooms. It feels like the lower level of a small-town shop, functional with more space behind-the-scenes than visible space.

Marianne Dubuc’s Le Jardin de Jaco (2018) is a sweet story about the residents above and below ground in a summer garden. Whether two-legged or four-legged (or, no-legged—just one of those, any guesses?), they are all thrown into a tizzy when a seed drops from the sky and begins to grow. Lovely detail drawn in the burrows beneath the ground, and not only can we observe the creatures’ lives but take notes about how to face change, adapt and flourish in unexpected ways. (English title: When the Seed Grew).

Her Ours et le murmure du vent (2020) tells the story of a bear who heeds the winds (of change!?) and feels compelled to move from his cosy home; it beautifully captures the twinned sense of restlessness and contentment, and sometimes strikes a philosophical chord even while being outwardly preoccupied with the bear’s everyday encounters and experiences. Because it doesn’t follow a traditional arc, this might be a disorienting read for some, but that’s precisely what I loved about it.

This might be the first time that an author who consistently and exclusively writes for very young children makes my MRE list, even though picture-books are awkward to carry home—because every walk is a long walk in a city built on rock, where any roadways that exist have been blasted—and there’s a lot of round-a-bout travelling around areas that were not blasted. Dubuc’s stories charm me, however, and I can manage her French vocabulary with only a couple of queries.

The stack above is fairly typical, with the abundant maple leaf stickers on book spines; it’s easier to find books by Canadian writers than international writers (witness the selection of Québécoise writer Marianne Dubuc’s volumes), and there is a delay between the time a publisher releases a new book and when the orders are fulfilled here. (I’m still eyeing my fruitless placement in the queue for the new Mohsin Hamid novel, which was published August 2. Below you’ll spot my ILL request for his debut novel, the only one of his works that I hadn’t read yet.)

Even so, there is plenty to read. Four of these are still in progress, and those I borrowed with other readers in mind I’ll chat about another time. I’m particularly excited to read Mercè Rodoreda’s Garden by the Sea. I can’t remember who cites Rodoreda as a fundamental influence—I think it might have been Gabriel Garcia Marquez—and this wasn’t the volume I’d hoped to read, but it’s a starting place.

I’m reading Carmen Aguirre’s Something Fierce: Memoirs of a Revolutionary Daughter right now. It’s been on my TBR for years, since it was included in the Canada Reads Non-fiction titles for 2012. When they announced that year’s event would be different, dedicated to non-fiction, I was disappointed, but not for long! After the event launched, and the five panelists promoting their selected books were engaged in discussion, one of them was outraged by something said against their chosen book and, in turn, they fanned the flames of outrage by referring to the author whom the other panelist was recommending, Carmen Aguirre, as a terrorist. (You can watch it all online, but I’m sure you’d prefer to watch “Murders in the Building”.) 

At that time, I hadn’t seriously considered how one person’s resistance hero is another person’s terrorist (after 2016, I started to spend more time thinking about the relationship between extreme political positions). This bookish conflict on a national broadcast slapped me up the side of the head and overrode my novels-first reading agenda: I planned to read Carmen Aguirre’s book. Mind you, it’s been ten years that I’ve left this reading plan dangle. And, in between, I’ve read a couple thousand other books. Still, there are advantages to having fewer choices: you make the most of the choices you have. Now’s the time to read Something Fierce.

So far, it’s tremendously engaging, and I love how seamlessly she moves from urgent questions of revolution to reading Judy Blume and watching the movie “Ice Castles”. I already know that I will regret not taking more notes while I read this memoir, but I am enjoying it so much that I do not want to slow long enough to flag striking passages. The chapters are short and, when I sit down, I intend to read just one, but then I carry on.

There are limited opportunities to request books via interlibrary loan, which is very fortunate indeed. I requested Victor Malarek’s Orphanage 41 (2014) via ILL (thanks to the Parry Sound public library for this copy) inspired by the news of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. The cultural detail (beautifully painted pysanky—Ukrainian Easter eggs, horilka—homemade vodka, holopchi—stuffed cabbage, and perogy) and geographical detail (from settings as varied as Lviv and Stornovitzi) was familiar, as was the discussion of Russian persecution.

In Malarek’s novel, the main character’s father worked as a professor and had published a book based on secret materials supplied by an agent about the Russian torture and execution of the kobzari (wandering bards); although he was all about revealing these political secrets, however, he maintained family secrets that urge the main character to travel to Ukraine to find the truth.

Next, I’ll be requesting some fiction set in Ethiopia: any recommendations are welcome.

The inter-library loans come dressed in bright yellow jackets, and they are usually available for three weeks after they’ve been delivered to the branch, so it benefits you to pick up your visiting book without delay. (When I file my requests, I try to include a combination of long and short reads.)

If caseloads are low and rate of transmission slowed  here, I will take a visiting book for a treat on the way home, because I figure it’s missing its friends and familiar environs; there is a small, family-owned, European-styled deli near the library, which only lightly sweetens their baked goods, and of course I get extra helpings for the visiting books, because they have travelled a long way (one of them was all the way from British Columbia) and I want them to have sweet memories of the Ontario north when they return home. Well, wouldn’t you? 

PS You might remember my surprise that the libraries here loan out jigsaw puzzles (the winters are long); I decided to make a game of trying to complete a dozen in our first year here and that’s been fun. Here’s the most colourful of the bunch, assembled in June, to celebrate Pride Month. I never knew how much I enjoy browsing puzzles, the way that I browse a shelf filled with paperbacks, waiting for mood and puzzle to connect.