vol. 3: march ed.
“Podrán cortar todas las flores, pero no podrá detener la primavera.”
(You can cut all the flowers, but you can’t stop spring.)
Pablo Neruda
Somehow, we made it. In Toronto, the snow has finally melted, revealing a mixture of mud, crocuses, discarded masks and cigarette butts hiding on brown lawns, red buds on maple trees, and bike lanes beckoning my rusty & trusty 1980s Schwinn to venture over the potholes created by winter’s long ostinato of thawing and refreezing. But despite all the spring beauty beginning to emerge, news of the horrific situation facing the innocent people of Ukraine taints the season’s joy. Some of these recommendations reflect on the war abroad, while others focus more on the sweet, sorrowful mundanities of everyday life. As always, I hope you enjoy.
Wilful Disregard: a novel about love by Lena Andersson, translated from the Swedish by Sarah Death
An illustration of Lena Andersson for the New Yorker by Rachel Levit Ruiz.
I make no secret of the fact that the “Plotless Fiction” section of Type Books on Queen West contains my favourite genre of novels. This one, by the Swedish author Lena Andersson, deep dives into the mind of an overthinker consumed by an obsession for a revered but emotionally unavailable artist with whom she has a confusing, non-committal relationship. I first heard of this book from Sheila Heti’s article about Lena Andersson in the New York Review of Books and found it to be full of astute observations about the nature of hope, loneliness, heartbreak, and love in our technological, solipsistic age.
“What she must definitely not do now was to expose herself to the anguish of sending a text message that would go unanswered. The anguish generated by the non-appearance of an answer was something the creators of texts and emails could not have anticipated.”
“Definitive answers are easier to deal with than diffuse ones. This is to do with Hope and its nature. Hope is a parasite on the human body, which lives in full-scale symbiosis with the human heart.”
Suggested paired listening: To Talk About - The Weather Station
And for the broken hearted: Ted Talk: How to fix a broken heart - Guy Winch
Photo of Carrère in Moscow by Hannah Goldman.
“In Moscow, the Russians face the vertigo of war” by Emmanuel Carrère, Nouvel Obs, March 2022
I’ve become very taken with the French author Emmanuel Carrère. Since reading an excerpt from his novel Yoga in The Paris Review’s winter edition, I’ve been slowly making my way through it (putting all my French to the test!). I love his quiet, thoughtful way of observing the world, which was why I bought a trial subscription to the Nouvel Obs to read his long article about Moscow during the first week the war on Ukraine was declared, which he describes as Russia’s version of 9/11 - everyone will always remember where they were the moment the invasion was announced. Carrère paints an importantly nuanced portrait of what life has been like for Russians opposed to the war, which is at turns touching and shocking. I’m not sure if the article will be translated into English, but it’s something for which it’s certainly worth looking out.
(This article in the New York Times also discusses Russians attempting to flee their country.)
Dear Life by Maya C. Popa
One of my great internet discoveries of the past year has been Poetry Twitter. I went off Facebook a good few years ago and have a mixed relationship with Instagram, much as I enjoy posting and sharing images and artwork. I came across Poetry Twitter after falling in love with a Maya C. Popa poem last year, entitled Letters in Winter. I was so struck by her sparse, poignant writing that I quickly googled her, discovering that she was a fellow-Millennial and prolific poetry tweeter, regularly sharing the most beautiful selections with her many followers. I’ve been checking her Twitter for months now, even {recently} creating my own account. This poem, “Dear Life,” aches with loss and longing.
Dear Life by Maya C. Popa
I can’t undo all I have done unto myself,
what I have let an appetite for love do to me.
I have wanted all the world, its beauties
and its injuries; some days,
I think that is punishment enough.
Often, I received more than I’d asked,
which is how this works—you fish in open water
ready to be wounded on what you reel in.
Throwing it back was a nightmare.
Throwing it back and seeing my own face
as it disappeared into the dark water.
Catching my tongue suddenly on metal,
spitting the hook into my open palm.
Dear life: I feel that hook today most keenly.
Would you loosen the line—you’ll listen
if I ask you,
if you are the sort of life I think you are.
Delia Smith (with sheep) in 1996.
Delia Smith’s Hot Cross Buns:
While my family tends to religiously identify as secular Jews, we also hold deep British, Anglican roots, as my mother’s father and father’s mother’s family originally came from England (both my parents have British-Ashkenazy blended heritages). In the brief window between Ash Wednesday and Passover (during which all leavened products are forbidden to remember the Israelites’ exodus from Egypt), my mother tells me it was very important for my late Northern English grandfather to have one of his favourite baked goods: a Hot Cross Bun. This *very* British recipe worked out excellently for us.
NB: I highly recommend making the highly decorative crosses to go on top for added festivity (or something non-denominational and delightful for the non-Easter observers like myself).
50g sugar, plus one tsp.
150ml hand-hot water
1 level tbsp. dried yeast
450g plain flour
1 level tsp. salt
1 rounded tsp. mixed spice
75g currants
50g mixed peel (*I didn’t have any so used a mix of candied ginger, raisins & dates!)
40-55ml warmed milk
1 beaten egg
50g melted butter
For the glaze:
2 tbsp. granulated sugar
2 tbsp. water
Stir the teaspoon of sugar into the hand-hot water, then sprinkle in the dried yeast and leave it until frothy (like beer).
Meanwhile, sift the flour, salt and mixed spice into a bowl and then add the remain 50g of sugar, currants and peel. Make a well in the centre, then pour in the yeast mixture, hand-hot milk, beaten egg and melted butter. Mix it into a dough with a wooden spoon and then get in there with your hands, adding more milk if needed. Transfer to a clean surface and knead until smooth and elastic (about 6 minutes). Pop into an oiled bowl and cover with a lightly oiled plastic bag and leave somewhere warm to rise for about an hour (or until doubled in size). Divide the mixture into twelve round portions, arranging on a greased baking sheet with plenty of room to rise. Make a deep cross on each one with a sharp knife. Leave them to rise once more, covering with the same bag for about 25 minutes.
Bake the buns for 15 minutes in a 425 degree (fahrenheit) oven. While they’re baking, cook the sugar and water glaze on the stove over a gentle heat until sugar is dissolved. Brush the buns with the glaze as soon as they come out of the oven.
*If you want to make crosses or whatever sort of non-denominational decoration you like, combine 110g plain flour with 3 tbsp. water, rolling into thin strips and dampening them with water on top of your buns before baking to seal.