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Hollay Ghadery 10/18/24 Hollay Ghadery 10/18/24

Excerpt from Your Roots Cast a Shadow by Caroline Topperman

I am standing in the middle of the street, crying. “I hate this coffee. Why does everything taste so weird? Why is surówka served with everything?” To this day I don’t get what’s to love about a type of coleslaw. Why did we come here? What was I thinking? My poor husband stands helpless, watching my meltdown. He later tells me he was concerned by my extreme reaction, and worried that I was going to unravel. He felt bad, he said. He had no idea how to help me. We haven’t found our support system. For now it is just the two of us trying to navigate our daily existence.

ASSIMILATION (OR NOT) BY WAY OF FOOD

The honeymoon period in a new place lasts about a month. That’s when everything feels new and shiny—before your new reality takes you by surprise. I have to wonder: is this how my parents felt when they first lived in Baghdad or Paris, in Sweden or Toronto? No wonder they didn’t hang on to the foods they knew. Or to the traditions. How could they? They learned it was easier to adapt than to blindly cling to old conventions. My father grew up in postwar Poland when food was heavily rationed. For years my parents had to be financially creative to put healthy meals on our table. Food was the bridge to our life in Canada and all the places my parents called home.

Adjusting to our new life in Poland is demanding. Having breakfast at Vincent’s, a Parisian café in the heart of the city, helps, and in a couple of days we fall into a routine that leads us daily to this tiny piece of Paris, complete with flags, those iconic wicker chairs, and the best baguettes outside of France. Each morning we leave our flat for a small park with sweeping views of Powiśle, an indie neighborhood bordering the Vistula River and the escarpment where we live. There are always lots of people, all walking dogs off leash, so we pick our way through dog poop and garbage left by partygoers, local drunks, and students. Pristine the park is not, but we have a prime view of the church grounds—one of the many, many churches in Warsaw—and a view of the river and the rooftops. Walking down a steep hill where kids toboggan in the winter, we come to the Chopin University of Music, where we’re serenaded by students practicing the piano or violin or occasionally a flute, creating that alluring cacophony heard at the start of a classical concert, then make our way up to Nowy Świat, a part of the Royal Route.

This daily walk to Vincent’s makes us happy. The general societal mood is electric, despite a certain heaviness that lingers. Warsaw is a city that displays its memories, especially those that contrast starkly with the modern world. Memorials and statues stand out on prominent streets. Buildings show off shell holes from World War II assaults. Every few steps there is a plaque commemorating a death or a war event, like the beautiful old library around the corner from our home that saw its books burned during the Nazi regime. Even with history at every turn, the pink, blue, and yellow buildings perk up the gray wintry feel of Warsaw.

Pixie, with her laid-back West Coast disposition, putters along at our side as we pass restaurants and cafés that will soon be bustling. Pixie loves Vincent’s as much as we do. Why wouldn’t she? The owner hand-feeds her fresh croissants, sometimes with jam. Those croissants are the best part of our mornings. Breaking apart the buttery flakes, each bite a melting morsel, and washing them down with rich cappuccinos is the only sane way to start the day. Actually, there are three Parisian cafés to choose from on this street, each with its own flavor. Petit Appetit has vintage French music, and each baguette is named after a different city. A few meters away is Croque Madame, with whitewashed walls and bunches of lavender strategically displayed. Vincent’s is my favorite because it reminds me the most of Paris, but each café is filled with the aroma of fresh bread. From flaky pastries to cream-filled macarons to warm, melt-in-your-mouth pain au chocolat to delicate madeleines, every day brings some new indulgence. In the weeks to come, when we finally rejoin society, we will drop by Vincent’s on Saturday mornings to pick up a freshly baked baguette that is still warm to the touch, to pair with runny cheeses, fragrant meats, juicy red tomatoes, and crisp pickles. This is the meal that grounds us, that makes us feel we are home.

For now, walking to faux Paris every morning is our escape from the obvious. At some point, we will have to find work. At some point, we will have to eat healthier food. That means I will have to cope with grocery shopping.

When I finally try, some items really stump me. The tomato sauce tastes sweet, and the only milk I find is boxed up, on a shelf. Eggs aren’t in the fridge either, which makes for a confusing run around the market. It takes days of dipping into different stores before finally working up the nerve to ask a clerk about this strange new-to-me milk. Actually, I have no idea what to ask, which is why the conversation goes as follows. “Przepraszam? Prosze pana, jakie to mleko, czy można je pić normalnie?” This roughly translates as, “Excuse me, sir? What kind of milk is this? Can I just drink it normally?” Or at least that’s what I want to say. Whether it comes out like that, I can’t be sure. “O co pani chodzi?” he scoffs. This term I will come to know intimately over the next four years. It translates roughly as, “What are you talking about?” said harshly. Dismissively. To be fair, I probably sounded odd asking about milk I can drink “normally.” I went to Poland thinking I spoke Polish. Which I do. I speak Polish fluently, but I was used to speaking Polish with my family over dinner and throwing in the occasional English word or modifying a Polish word when I didn’t know how to conjugate. Conversation went like this, “Jak dzisiaj było w szkole?” (How was your day at school?) “Okay. Miałam, science test i myślę że, that I passed.” Do I even need to translate? But in Poland, it will take a year before I figure out that I should smile my biggest smile and say, “I’m sorry I haven’t learned that word yet,” so people will laugh and possibly go out of their way to help me.

***Your Roots Cast a Shadow: One Family’s Search Across Histoy for Belonging*** by Caroline Topperman. Published by HCI.

About Your Roots Cast a Shadow: One Family’s Search Across Histoy for Belonging :

A narrative of cultural translation, identity, and belonging.

The thrill of a new place fades quickly for Caroline Topperman when she moves from Vancouver to Poland in 2013. As she delves into her family’s history, tracing their migration through pre-WWII Poland, Afghanistan, Soviet Russia and beyond, she discovers the layers of their complex experiences mirror some of what she felt as she adapted to life in a new country. How does one balance honoring both one’s origins and new surroundings?

Your Roots Cast a Shadow explores where personal history intersects with global events to shape a family’s identity. From the bustling markets of Baghdad to the quiet streets of Stockholm, Topperman navigates the murky waters of history as she toggles between present and past, investigating the relationship between migration, politics, identity, and home. Her family stories bring history into the present as her paternal grandmother becomes the first woman allowed to buy groceries at her local Afghan market while her husband is tasked with building the road from Kabul to Jalalabad. Topperman’s Jewish grandfather, a rising star in the Communist Party, flees Poland at the start of WWII one step ahead of the Nazis, returning later only to be rejected by the Party for his Jewish faith. Topperman herself struggles with new cultural expectations and reconciling with estranged relatives.

A study in social acceptance, Topperman contends with what one can learn about an adopted culture while trying to retain the familiar, the challenges of learning new languages and traditions even as she examines the responsibilities of migrants to their new culture, as well as that society’s responsibility to them.

More about Caroline Topperman:

Born in Sweden and raised in Canada, in 2013 Caroline Topperman returned to her ancestral roots in Poland to live, and to explore her love of traveling and experiencing different cultures. From sampling authentic Neapolitan Pizzas in Naples, to photographing a piano, frozen in a river in Užupis, an independent artist’s republic in Lithuania, to pitching Poutine as a great comfort food to a local French baker in Poland. She speaks fluent English, Polish, and French. Caroline holds a BFA in screenwriting from York University (Toronto). Her book credits include Tell Me What You See: visual writing prompts for the wandering writer (One Idea Press) and a complementary guide to her blog, FitWise: straight talk about being fit & healthy. Caroline has written a column for Huffington Post Canada and was the Beauty Editor for British MODE.

Hollay Ghadery 10/23/23 Hollay Ghadery 10/23/23

Power Q & A with Maria Zuppardi

Maria Zuppardi, host of the Publisher’s Weekly recommended podcast, Get (Can)Lit, joins us today to talk about one of our favourite bookish topics ever: small press CanLit. Her answer to our question about reading books from small presses astounds and reminds us of why we started reading in the first place: to lose a bit of ourselves, and find a bit we never knew existed.

Welcome, Maria!

Q: You’re obviously a voracious reader and one who vehemently supports small press CanLit. What would you tell someone who only reads—or reads predominantly—books by multinationals, to get them into reading more books by indie presses?

A: I have so many thoughts on this, what a topic to discuss! For those who read books that get all the social media hype, or the best placement in bookstores, congratulations, because you just fell for some great marketing plan that’s been in action for literally months. No shade though, because I’ll be honest, I totally fall for those blockbuster reads as well. I can’t deny reading a book I’ve seen a million times! But that’s what drives Big 5 publishing today - thousands of dollars (perhaps even hundreds of thousands?) being poured into printing ARCs, mailing costs, paid advertising geared towards librarians and booksellers, NetGalley costs and ads, conference fees, author travel….all to make sure that one of the books you read is THEIR book. By the time the book gets published, it’s all we see until the next big thing releases, and it’s up to us consumers to make up the financial hole this book is in, and help balance out those accounting reports for the publishers, or not.

It’s easy to walk into a bookstore or library and pick up the first thing we see because it’s on a table or other display, or on sale for that matter. But you know what? If you take your time and get lost in those bookshelves, you’re guaranteed to find a hidden gem, and it might not even be a book you’ve ever heard about! If you want to be a little more conscious of the types of books you read, here are my best tips:

Do a little bit of research. Simply googling “Toronto authors” or whatever province you live in will yield results, which will ultimately land you on an independent publishers list. We’re known for championing local authors before they’re snatched up by the Big 5!

Find out who your independent presses are. Again, a simple Google search that you can tailor to your needs. Canada has so many different types of publishers who specialize in unique books like travel, poetry, nonfiction, or again, specifically local authors.

Ask your local bookstore. Booksellers at indie bookstores are THE BEST. They know anything and everything about what you need even before you know you should read it. They have to be magical beings of some sort, I swear! Indie bookstores always keep indie presses in stock, and they are huge supporters for local indie authors. If you don’t have a local bookstore near you, you can always send them an email or see what types of books are on their social media, and find some new reads through there.

Scope out literary festivals. Even if you can’t attend, there’s always a great mix of Big 5 and indie press authors. See who’s on what panel, find out who published what and pick up that book that interests you. Just don’t regret not going to see the author talk about their book live when you had the chance!

At the end of the day, making slight behaviour changes to how you shop in bookstores or search for books online will go a long way. Authors from independent publishers face a unique set of challenges in the industry, and their books deserve to be read as much as anyone else. Especially for BIPOC authors. It’s so tough at the Big 5, let alone at an indie. But I promise you, #DiverseCanLit from Canadian publishers is literally superior to anything else that comes out internationally. Give it a try, agree with me, and keep buying those books from independent publishers! And when you find that little press you love, champion them on your own social media, share their books with others. You’ll have a very appreciative author, and press, behind you!

More about Maria:
Maria Zuppardi is an avid reader, book lover, and coffee drinker in Toronto. You can find her talking about all books at @readingmaria, and also talking about Canadian authors on the Get (Can)Lit Podcast available on your favourite platform.

Hollay Ghadery 11/3/22 Hollay Ghadery 11/3/22

Power Q & A with Bob Henderson

Bob Henderson is an outdoor educator, writer, and resource editor for Pathways: The Ontario Journal of Outdoor Education. Additionally, he has been resource editor for Nastawgan: The Quarterly Journal of the Wilderness Canoe Association since 2008. Bob is also one of the editors and writers of Paddling Pathways. He joins us here for our Power Q & A.

Bob is also one of the editorial forces behind Paddling Pathways: Reflections from a Changing Landscape, published by Your Nickle’s Worth Publishing in 2022.

Bob joins us for our Power Q & A series.

*Paddling Pathways,* available from Your Nickle’s Worth Press.

Q: What’s the takeaway you’d like readers to glean from this collection of personal essays?

A: The takeaway would be some questions: What would a reflective look at paddling in Canada look like in 2022, one that reflects changing landscape?

What might it mean for us to shift pathways and create narratives that no longer focus on competing, completing, and conquering as central motifs for how we understand the natural world or wilderness travel?

Consider what life might be like if there were less completion and more community, less asserting and more relating, less shouting and more listening, and maybe even less human and more more-than-humans.

Learn more about Bob at www.bobhenderson.ca.

Hollay Ghadery 4/1/21 Hollay Ghadery 4/1/21

BOOK REVIEW: The Home Stretch: A Father, a Son, and All the Things They Never Talk About

Everyone has parents. Everyone’s parents die. Yet the stories where parents and death intersect are unique.

George K. Ilsley’s recent memoir tells one such story. As a young adult, George left his Nova Scotia home, heading west, eventually landing in Vancouver—as far away as he could get while remaining in North America. Then, as he turns 50, his father turns 90, and his father needs, but doesn’t especially want, Ilsley’s care.

The Home Stretch: A Father, a Son, and All the Things They Never Talk About, by George K. Ilsley. Arsenal Pulp Press, 2020. ISBN: 9781551527956. $19.95, 230 pages.

Review by Marion Agnew.

“There is only one way this story is going to turn out.”

Everyone has parents. Everyone’s parents die. Yet the stories where parents and death intersect are unique.

Narrated in a gently self-deprecating voice, this book was surprisingly funny and a pleasure to read—not easy, mind, but a pleasure.

Available to purchase wherever books are sold. Grab it from Arsenal Pulp Press.

Part of my pleasure comes from recognition. I had similar experiences with my mother, whose death from dementia came twenty years ago, and with my father, who died seven years later. I, too, lived far away from them, and my siblings, for various reasons, weren’t able to take a more active role as our parents aged. So much of what Ilsley describes was familiar, especially the push-pull of leaving a life you’ve built to spend time with a parent, always feeling guilty for not being in the other place.

But this book has much to offer beyond any personal identification with its situation. It’s also a good example of how the untidy elements of nonfiction make the nonfiction interesting. Writers often try softening memories to make them more palatable or changing events to “fit” a traditional narrative arc. The biggest temptation is to manufacture something “inspirational” or “redeeming” in an account of a difficult time with a difficult person with whom you had a difficult relationship—to say, “It was all worthwhile, because ….”

Deftly, Ilsley avoids these temptations. Everyone else thinks his father is sweet, with a quirky tendency to save things and a charming, if odd, interest in growing peanuts. But Ilsley shows his father’s serious hoarding issues, his disinterest in the reality of others’ lives, his unhealthy obsessions with peanuts and long underwear. We see the dangers present in Ilsley’s father’s stubborn refusal to answer direct questions, his denial that he needs help with walking and eating, and his bitterness when his sons try to help. Nothing soft there.

And no tidy redemption story, either. The last time George sees his father, who’s in the hospital, Ilsley says, “There is, of course, a last scene with Dad in the hospital, tray-locked in his chair, him confused and me sad. Wondering if this is the last time, as I have wondered so many times, with increasing levels of certainty.” But Ilsley can’t know whether this actually is the last time—he’s experienced years of anticipatory grief, waves of anger and sadness, and even moments of acceptance.

All relationships in a family change as parents age, and I admire the honesty with which Ilsley shares his family’s difficulties and silences. He describes a moment with his older brother, who lives with their father: “It is hard to be fifty years old and treated like children by a parent whose welfare consumes our time, energy, and money.”

In fact, the book’s great strength is its insight and candour about the kaleidoscope of emotions involved in loving someone who doesn’t want to be cared for, but who needs it. Anger alone takes many forms: exasperation, impatience, truculence, stubbornness meeting stubbornness.

Fear, too, has many facets. You’re afraid for your parent’s safety and for your ability to survive their suffocating needs. You dread being happy when they die; you dread their death will kill you, too. You’re terrified that all your efforts won’t help make their lives bearable at the end, and that you’ll leave something undone that could have made a huge positive difference in their last years.

But then again, you know—we all do—that there’s only one way this story is going to turn out.

Anyone who’s ever had parents, and anyone who loves the creative chaos of real life, will find rewards in reading this book.

About Marion:
Marion Agnew’s essay collection, Reverberations: A Daughter’s Meditations on Alzheimer’s, came out in 2019. For more about her, see www.marionagnew.ca.