A Complicated Kindness, Miriam Toews

This is my short review:

"I think Toews nailed the small-town teenage girl. I know people like Nomi and places like her dump of a town. Nomi's wit and sarcasm really makes the book, as in, the humour really balances out the drama. I don't know, though, it's missing something. Maybe it's the lack of proper quotation marks in conversation that bugs me. Maybe for all their depth, the paragraphs are too long. Maybe it's because Nomi reminds me too much of your usual Margaret Atwood heroine (passive, but with a mind of her own, and secretly rebellious), but the plot isn't quite as clever and unexpected. So awesome characterization, but I think Toew's prose could use more spunk."

I had so many thoughts as I read this book today. First, I was annoyed by the stream-of-consciousness tone. Too stylized, too imitative of Margaret Atwood. I would have preferred wit and regular punctuation. I fell to wondering again: does anybody (worth his/her salt) write in a "representative" manner instead of in stylized prose these days? Unless you're writing fantasy or children's books?

I also had misgivings about Nomi and the state of affairs in her life. Nomi is your typical rebellious teen, who dabbles in delinquency, drug, and sex. I think it's realistic, but if I knew her personally, I would find her (at least her lifestyle) intimidating. And it's a grimy picture. Is that the only modern life we have to depict, unless (again) you're writing fantasy or for children?

What I really loved was that, despite Nomi's vindictive tone, perhaps as the (slightly cheesy, awkward) title implies, the book is gentle. Despite the ready condemnation of religion and society, never does it reek with hate or true bitterness. Nomi loves her family, and through her quirky but loving eyes you believe in the goodness and good intentions of all the characters.

The book made me WANT to understand the small Canadian towns that I've lived in, want to befriend the goth girls smoking crack on the fire escapes instead of looking askance and pityingly at them. It made me examine why small towns are the crux of Canadian literature, why I (a suburban girl) am attracted to some romanticized aspect of them, and how if I were to write a story I would deal precisely with this fascination of mine, as if this were a heritage I somehow long for in all my stability.

Nomi's recollections of her childhood made me reminiscent - no, made me see all the potential in my childhood, too. That quirkish way of thinking.

"I had an imaginary friend who hated me and was trying to kill me."

"This was a bedtime ritual. I dug the shunning story. I couldn't wait to hear it. What a gem. It completely reinforced my belief system of right and wrong. And everyone had to stand up in church and publicly denounce them. Yeah! I'd say. Denounce them! I'd always loved the sound of that."

"I wasn't pretty enough to be the complex, silent girl and yet I never knew what to say. I didn't want to be the ugly, quiet girl. There was no such thing as the ugly, mysterious girl. I could be the tortured, self-destructive girl. But where does that ldead? I remembered a conversation I'd had with Tash on the same trampoline a hundred years ago when it only cost a nickel."

Those are a *real* teenage girl's thoughts, not contrived at all.

"For some reason when we were in the library, Tash and I often pretended that we were German spies and we called ourselves Platzy and Strassy. We'd hide bits of information in books and then give each other clues about how to find them. There are probably still little notes stuck in Billy Graham books that say things like: I was brutally tortured for several hours this afternoon but I am fine. Let's meet for drinks at the UberSwank at eight. Platzy."

So awesome! Fantasy, but not told in a traditional way at all. Once again, not contrived.

Well-- I should, I think, attempt to write a story in the structure of Toews or Budge Wilson. It will be good practice. I have a long way to go in finding my own voice.