The Memory Keeper's Daughter

Tessa: Secrets. Every single one of us has one. Whether we like it or not it occupies a
small place inside of us that keeps us alone and separated from the world as though a
film exists between you and those closest to you. It's what makes us unknowable. Kim
Edwards in her debut novel The Memory Keeper's Daughter explores how a secret
insidiously weaves its way through the heart of a young family and how a generation
later it continues to shape the relationships affected by it.

In 1964 Dr. David Henry and his wife Nora make their way through a snowstorm to the
hospital as Nora's contractions come faster and faster. Unable to make it to the
hospital Dr. Henry, an orthopedic surgeon, delivers the children himself. The first
child, Paul is a healthy boy, The unexpected second child, Phoebe, is mongoloid. In a
split second decision that will irrevocably change the course of his and his family's
life he asks the attending nurse, Caroline Gill, who is in love with him, to take the
child to a home. She takes the child to the home and horrified by what she sees she
takes the child to another city and raises Phoebe as her own.

The fact that Dr. Henry sends his child to a home would not have been an uncommon
decision in 1964 and ultimately he believes he is acting out of love for his wife.
What he doesn't realize is that the lie that is created grows between them until
ultimtately their relationship falls apart many years later. From the moment the
children are born the lie and everything that is never said between them grows into
palpable silence and isolation. And still he cannot bring himself to tell her because
as the years pass the nature of his crime weaves itself into the very fabric of his
life and his relationships with his son and Nora. Their house is large, affluent and
empty.

The parallel story follows Caroline Gill and Phoebe's life as she struggles to find a
her place as a single mother with a challenged child in a brand new city. That we see
Phoebe grow up as a delightful young woman who's mother has fought tooth and nail to
allow her the opportunities of any child, makes it even more poignant because what we
see here is the fabric of a rich life. One full of challenges absolutely but
definitely rich.

This is, of course, not only what Nora Henry has been robbed of but what David Henry
and his son are robbed of as well. The Memory' Keepers Daughter is an auspicious
beginning for this debut novelist. Kim Edwards skillfully weaves the insidious nature
of this secret throughout her narrative without ever making the reader want to
abandon or dislike the characters. Dr. Henry makes a bad choice but her skill as a
storyteller allows us to see him as he is; a flawed man but also a good man.
Again, this is a great read. It's a tearjerker that makes you think as well as feel.

When Snow Comes to Town

Tessa: This morning when I left for work it was snowing and icy on the roads. All weekend it has been snowing in Vancouver. Big, heavy, fat snowflakes that look like diamonds have blanketed the city. Yesterday we took Reuben and went walking in the woods behind our house. If you paused a moment you could hear the trees creeking under the weight of the snow. When we entered the path that takes us to the soccer field, where we exercise our world cup skills, all the trees and branches had formed an arc over the path giving the impression that we were entering some kind of hidden snow cave. The contrast with the snow and the dark brown branches was startling.

We went home to drink some of our boiled water and we're going to settle in for the night when the power went down. So we sat in the dark with candles drinking wine waiting for life to resume its usual pace. Lately Vancouver feels like its on the brink of disaster, like we're just skirting the edge of something even bigger and more chaotic. People say hello at the grocery store as they're carting away litres of bottled water, hunkered down in snow boots, and down jackets. I like this feeling. It reminds me of snowstorms when I was little and we all got to stay home from school and eat grilled cheese sandwiches and watch TV. I'm hoping this continues for a few more days though I heard that the water resource people have removed the boil water advisory. Still I'm looking forward to going home later on the seabus where I'll talk to other commuters, a little comment here and there about the weather, the water, the power situation. It's nicer than silence and makes me hope that those big, fabulous, diamond flakes keeping pouring down from the sky.

My Sister's Keeper and The Memory Keeper's Daughter

Tessa: I recently finished reading My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult and The Memory Keeper's Daughter by Kim Edwards. Both of these books are coincidentally New York Times Bestseller's and both of them are tearjerkers. So if you're looking to give gifts this Christmas that are guarenteed to reduce friends and family members to tears then be sure to pick up a copy of either of these two and that should do the trick.

I'll start with My Sister's Keeper. Although Jodi Picoult has written several novels, I had never actually heard of her but a friend lent it to me urging me to read it so we could discuss it afterwards. Admittedly I had a hard time putting this book down. The story is about two sisters Anna and Kate. At the age of two Kate is diagnosed with leukemia. Through preimplantation genetic diagnosis Anna is conceived as a perfect bone marrow match for her sister and until the age of thirteen unquestioningly allows herself to be subjected to countless transfusions, surgeries and shots. But by thirteen Anna begins to question the trauma of these endless rounds of hospital procedures. When Anna's parents offer her kidney for transplant to Kate Anna initiates legal action against her parents for medical guardianship over her own body. It's clear that although a hospital would never compromise a healthy child to save a dying child, Anna's permission is never asked. Her parents take it for granted that she will subject herself to procedure after procedure for Kate.

At the heart of this narrative is the issue of medical technology and this is a topic that Picoult navigates her way around very well. Having been a parent of a very sick child she is able to draw the reader into the emotionally charged and tortured journey that families of very sick children are forced to make. The choices clearly aren't easy and when Anna's mother pushes the envelope in favour of her dying daughter she at times appears monstrously one-sided and blind to Anna's needs as a human being. In the end Anna was conceived as a donor to save her sister's life. What her mother neglects to understand is that her daughter is a human being first.

The premise of this story is timely, as the long term implications of stem cell research unfolds in the American political arena. But like all issues, we as a society, are increasingly blindsided by ethical implications of medical technology. This book certainly has its weaknesses, namely the uneven and sometimes ludicrous characterizations of Campbell Anna's lawyer, and the fact that Anna and Kate's mother after years of being a stay at home mom returns to court to handle her own case against her daughter. Perhaps this is done to add levity to an emotionally charged topic that stands at the centre of this narrative. Overall, however, this is a riveting book that is sure to generate debate and yes, tears.

Next book review: The Memory Keeper's Daughter

The greatest people

Dave: I've realized over the past two weeks of rain, wind and cold; that the nicest people you'll meet are the people you meet walking out in this kind of weather. Most will be walking a dog, but not all. They'll all peek out through layers of clothes to smile and say hello. So if you want to meet some really nice people, go for a walk in the rain... but don't complain, because no one else is.

YouTube: How Love Grows

Tessa: I'm not sure what happened to our date nights but they are definitely changing from Dave and I staring wildly, passionately and intently into each other's eyes to each of us staring with all of the above adverbs into our dog Reuben's eyes to staring eight hours straight into the eyes of YouTube. But what the hell, this is how we found these videos so if you're in need of a laugh go directly to these links. We'll see you in six hours. Ant & Dec interview David Beckham, Ant & Dec interview Victoria Beckham and Ant & Dec interview George Clooney.

My new girlfriend: Photoshop

Dave: Okay, so Tessa thinks I'm more interested in Photoshop than her. I can tell by all the glares, cupboards banging and the familiar loud groaning from the other room. The thing is is that I've discovered photoshop, and love it. I can't drag my sorry ass away from it. I've spent roughly eight hours going over the 250 photos I took of our friends wedding. Now I want to buy a scanner and printer and start going through the millions of other photographs I've taken over the years. I've always been a "film" buff but it was getting expensive and some of the jobs I was getting required digital, so I bought a Nikon D70. It's an amazing camera, and with digital and photoshop together the sky's the limit.... and that sky can be any color you want it to be. I still think of photography as a true art form, with the skill coming from composition and lighting. Photoshop is just a fun tool to add to the process, not replace it. My true passion still lies in taking black and white photos, using a nice high grain film with a #25 red filter.

I'm starting to feel that this whole blog adventure Tessa and I have set out on has become somewhat of a creative outlet that keeps expanding and growing. The more we create and learn the more we want to keep going with it. I even went to a Documentary film info session last night. I'm thinking of taking the course through Langara college. It's yet another avenue I want to dive into and explore. Final cut pro sounds like an amazing editing program that I'm hungry to learn. I want to start making short films, editing them, and posting them here. The wheels are turning.

I know Tessa will think I'll be sneaking out of bed, in the middle of the night, to do even more projects. But the fact is is that I'll be looking at the millions of pictures I've taken of her... admiring her long blonde, black or even blue hair.

I love you like raisins

Tessa: This last Sunday was a lovely quiet day after our Saturday night dinner party bomb when our friend hijacked our cedar plank salmon and conversation with the 46 inch HDTV with 900 channels at full volume. Okay, the Ali G. marathon session was highly entertaining but nevertheless Sunday was a welcome reprieve. I was happy to have a nice quiet day and read on the couch while Dave photo shopped our friend's wedding picture for the 900th hour in a row. Deanna's head has been coloured, moved, removed, sampled, stapled, highlighted well you name it. But I digress because I was talking about my peaceful Sunday. From time to time Dave would rip himself away from his task sit on the couch, pat my feet, plant kisses on my forehead and say thing like"I love you like slfjdflkdflsj? " "Like what?" I said? "I love you like raissdosdrs." I'm positive I heard raisins. I love you like raisins. “Raisins” I asked. “You hate raisins.” "Yes, I know." he said walking away enigmatically...back to touching up his pictures for the 902 nd time.

A few hours later he would re-emerge from his cave, saunter over to the couch and whisper the same sweet nothing in my boggy ear still ringing from the Ali G marathon. But this time I thought I heard green peppers. I love you like green peppers. Green peppers. He hates green peppers. Ohhhh it’s all getting a bit cryptic now. How am I supposed to read when he’s busy photoshopping without me and telling me he loves me like raisins and green peppers. How can I fully concentrate on my zombie book with disturbing thoughts flying through my mind like an electrical storm. So I get up from the couch and travel to his lair. The photoshop lair. Now I’m beginning to understand that he’s not re-doing these pictures out of necessity which is one thing. He’s doing them because he LOVES DOING THEM. That’s why all of a sudden I’m a raisin and not a hamburger. He knows I’m on the couch reading my zombie book just waiting for him to finish with that filthy photo manipulating program so he can play with ME. Yes, ME! That’s right. I don’t want to read, I want to PLAY. He knows that. He knows I’m slowly seething. I’m turning into Ali G. I’m becoming the monster in my werewolf book because I want attention. Yes. I DO!

So I wrap my arms around his shoulders, bend down and nestle my face in his neck and whisper sweet nothings in his knobby ear. "I love you hot pants,"I say. "I love you like XFCXFG+KJHKHKJHLH." "Like what?" he shouts trying to escape my body hold. "Like raisins."I say sweetly. Like raisins.

No vision with television

Dave: Tessa and I had a small gathering of friends the other night. Just five of us getting together for food and drinks. I was really looking forward to it because we always have some great conversations and laughs. We decided to watch the hockey game while waiting for the group to arrive. Then a strange thing happened. When our first guest arrived our effort to turn the TV off was disputed. She said that we should leave it on so we could see the outcome of the game, we'll just turn down the sound. So an hour later, the game over and our guests all there, we again went to turn off the TV. To my dismay the person who grabbed the control started going through the channels instead of turning it off. This shockingly turned out to be a popular choice. As he went through the channels people started talking about different shows and wanting him to stop at certain programs. The television set had absconded with the attention of everyone in the room. It was a real eye opener. Everyone in the room is very social and usually save their television watching for alone time, but because the beast was on when everyone arrived it had total control. I finally turned the music on and started dancing to snap everyone out of it.

This experience has made me realize what power a television has. If you've ever been having a conversation with someone and there's a TV on in the room... it will grab their attention continuously throughout the time you're there. The show can be crap and the sound off, but guaranteed they will be glancing over continuously.

It's also sad that most people have their living rooms set up for TV viewing and less for socializing. In most places you go, even when the TVs off, every one's sitting staring at where the monster lies dormant, instead of at each other.

I guess this is easier for me to say because I'm not much of a TV watcher. Every time the TV goes on in our place Tessa starts banging things and dishes get broken.

Escape from Podzilla!

Tessa: About 3 years ago I quit my job in publishing. I had worked at this company for about 10 years and had hit middle management hell. I had a job, an expense account, travelled alot, a group of people who reported to me and work that was fairly interesting. Why was it then that I had chronic back pain, bags under my eyes, head pain, drank like a maniac, was dating a loser, was constantly tired and cranky and my generally bright outlook on life had turned to chronic, bitter cynicism.

I didn't really know the fire had gotten so hot until I started doing things like forgetting my laptop on business trips, leaving the country with no change of clothes, forgetting when I was supposed to come home, forgetting when I was supposed to leave, when I was supposed to be in a meeting, forgetting to breathe. I didn't realize how hard the pot was boiling by the time I stopped forgetting things and started adopting things instead. First it was the cat. Then the dog. Then I wanted kids. Then I just wanted things. Shoes, hair, jackets, pants, parties, food. You name it. I wanted to surround myself with people, things and stuff. Any stuff.

Around this time, when I would regularly find myself lying about in all of my things, in a post-martini hangover, usually feeling very sorry for myself, a friend of mine gave me a copy of The Artist's Way. I remember looking at it and then immediately shelving it thinking it was fluff. But one day when I was in particularly rough shape this same friend ordered me to go to my room, pick up the book, read it and do the exercises. Desperation drove me to it but I did finish the book. Although I learned a lot of things, the one thing that had never occurred to me was that my job was starving me creatively. I didn't have any outlet for my creativity. I was so busy supporting other people's creativity I never had time for my own.

What the book showed me was that I could take control of my life by taking risks not avoiding them.

About six months after finishing the The Artist's Way I quit my job [and I met Dave but that's another story!]. But the truth of it was I hated my job. I kept thinking of all the reasons why I should love it but it mainly had to do with the fact that it looked good on paper. Hell, it even sounded good. But I had no idea how I got there and when I got there I had no idea how I stayed there. I liked the people. Well, not really and especially not my boss after she started sleeping with another girl down the way (not that there's anything wrong with that) or the guy that forgot his meds and would whisper expletives in your ear as you walked past the photocopier. Although the constant round of socializing that drives the publishing calendar all year long seems exciting at first, after a few years and several thousands of bottles of wine and vodka later it all gets a bit blurry and unmemorable. I hated the small talk and I hated going over the endless list of books that had to be promoted that probably shouldn't have been published to begin with.

When I quit I thought there would be drama and tearful goodbyes. Afterall, it had been ten years. But there was none of that. They were as tired of me as I was of them. When I left I had no idea how I was going to make a living. I had a dog and a cat, the sperm bank wasn't working out so hot (THANK GOD) and I hoped and prayed the Latin restaurant down the road would hire me as a waitress. They didn't.

For the first 6 months I was exhausted and I slept all the time. I watched Oprah, read People and started working with a friend who had also quit at the same time. Our idea of growing a business was to have lunch at my house, watch more Oprah and discuss whether we should or should not answer the phone when the business line rang. It was bliss. Everyday I would wake up in my pajamas, walk the dog in my pajamas, 'work' in my pajamas and greet Dave in my pajamas. He would come home, point at the big knot in the back of my head and say 'you go out like that?' Yes, I did. Eventually I just cut the big knot off the back of my head.

I'm not going to say I'm some creative genious these days because you can beat the genius right out of yourself. But I'm trying. Dave has joined me in the creative revolution. Reuben, Olive and I are just waiting for him to flee his Podzilla. For now we're starting with small things like playing Kerplunk and twister, I chase him around the house then he chases me. We made a collage on my birthday and are planning on having a gingerbread making contest/martini party. Oh and then there's blogging...the most creative fun of all.