I started reviewing books for a fairly well-read newspaper as soon as I graduated with an undergrad degree in creative writing. The letters “B.A.”, I reasoned, made me perfectly capable of composing 500-word articles deeming a work worthy to be read or not. And so, for a few years, I composed a slew of what I thought were clever and thoughtful little critiques.

These days, when I get up the nerve to open my drawer full of old publications, I cringe at the sight of them.

Okay, they’re not all bad. Some are all right. But they’re certainly written by someone who has just spent four years in creative writing workshops, learning to ferret out everything that’s WRONG with a piece and line up these faults for all to see, like shamed prisoners en route to the guillotine.

Once I started to see what I was doing in my reviews, I gave up writing them. And I started to think hard about reviewing. What are reviews for? What makes a good reviewer? A poor one? I kept mulling this over as I published my first novel and watched the reviews crop up. A good one sent me flying (usually for celebratory chocolate). A scathing one left me inconsolable.

The thing is, we need book reviews. Especially now, when most newspapers have had their Books sections seriously trimmed or eliminated altogether. We need thoughtful reviewers to tell us where a book fits and who would enjoy it or not, and to give it context in the world. I don’t believe in praising books that don’t deserve it, but nor do I believe in slagging a book. I side with the editors who advise reviewers that if they can’t say anything nice, not to say anything at all. No reviews are almost as bad as negative ones, except it doesn’t tarnish a writer’s reputation.

And I think this is especially important now, when there are so few book reviews published — or at least, book reviews that get read by large numbers of readers. If an author gets slagged in one of, say, three reviews he gets, it could potentially take a toll on his career.

Maybe I’ve just gotten soft. But I’m okay with that. Now as I dip my toes back into the book reviewing waters, I’m feeling much more prepared for my role. Excited, even.

And you? Any thoughts on book reviews? I’d love to hear them.

And look! If you click here you can peruse part of the novel yourself, thanks to the good folks at HarperCollins Canada.

I’ll be launching the book in two lovely cities – Vancouver on September 24th and Edmonton on October 7th. Details to come. I’ll also be reading from it at Vancouver’s Word on the Street festival on September 26th. Details for that to come too.

I think it’s time to break out some champagne, no? Except it’s 8 am, so that would be a problem. Or rather, one might argue that I have a problem if I did that. A celebratory cupcake will have to do. It’s never too early for cupcakes.

So my trip to Ireland? Wonderful. Gorgeous. I tromped across the countryside, befriending donkeys and marveling at all the different shades of green (cliched, but perfectly true), and felt so…so blessed to be able to hop on a plane and travel halfway around the world just to explore a new place. I sent out a little thank you to Hermes everyday. The god of travel, that is. Not the posh luggage company.

Highlights: the sheep. The donkeys. The green hills of Connemara and cliffs of Clare. Americanos brewed by The Bald Barista himself in Dublin. Discovering The Cujo Family, an amazing bluegrass/folk band in the most unassuming pub in tiny Listdoonvarna. Getting soaked hiking the Aran Islands. Not losing my lunch on the pitchy boatride to the Aran Islands. The horses. The horses. The horses.

And while I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone name Irish food as a trip highlight, it certainly was for me, for one good reason. There are more celiacs in Ireland than nearly anywhere else (save Italy, apparently). So nearly EVERYTHING came gluten free. We’re talking GF bread (that actually tastes like bread), GF cookies, GF GRAVY!! I ate like a queen for the first time in years.

All in all, great craic was had. Thanks, Ireland. Twas a slice.

Galway

Donkey!

Inis Mór, Aran Islands

Connemara hillside

Tara sketching the Cliffs of Moher

Dingle crab salad and local goat cheese at Killarney's Vanilla Pod

1. I just finished teaching three weeks of creative writing classes to several dozen children and teenagers. During their summer vacation. If you’ve ever taught children, you get what I’m saying.

2. When not teaching or planning the above-mentioned classes, I’ve been wrestling with two unwieldy freelance contracts and one frustratingly shapeless novel. I’m talking seriously shapeless. This is the two-by-four of middle-grade novels.

3. It’s summer! There are beaches to comb, waves to kayak, trees to climb, and patio drinks to sip. Which leaves very little time for blogging.

I have been tweeting away, though. Sometime in the last month I suddenly realized that Twitter is AWESOME, and not scary at all as I used to think. So I’ve been sharing bite-sized news and musings rather than full-length blogs. Which for now will have to do.

Another blog silence looms. In a few days I’m taking off to Ireland, where I plan to spend a Really Big Birthday hiking and horseback riding and wandering the streets of Dublin and Galway. And perhaps finding a few fellow Delaneys. I hear there are one or two of them in Ireland.

I’ll be back soon, hopefully in one piece, surely full of stories and photos. So for now, sláinte!

This novel tells the story of 16-year-old Lucas, whose father disappeared five years ago, leaving his family gutted and guilt-ridden. One night Lucas comes across an urn filled with the ashes of a dead woman (Violet Park) while waiting for a cab, and makes it his mission to find out who she is and where she belongs. Little does he know, his mission will actually help him uncover some important things about his father and his family. And of course, himself.

I devoured this novel. From the very first page, it was funny and heart-wrenching, simple and profound, and several times it made me simultaneously laugh and cry. And I loved Lucas’s voice, and the way he contemplated life and all the characters and complications that come with it. I highly, highly recommend this one.

Next up, The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks. Horray for summer reading!

A huge, heartfelt thank you must go out to the CAA, and in particular Jean Kay, Anthony Dalton, and Rhonda-Lee Stephenson-Read for putting on a wonderful conference, banquet, and awards ceremony. I am still grinning like a certain famous cat whenever I think of my award. My goodness, I’m a lucky girl.

Also, at the reading on Friday evening, I had the good fortune to hear one of the CAA members read the other Emerging Writer nominees’ work on their behalf. So, SO impressive! Poet Jesse Patrick Ferguson and novelist Chad Pelley deserve huge congrats for being so darn talented. Hopefully I can get my hands on both their books over on this coast.

Whew. It’s been one amazing weekend, and it is now time for bed. *Happy sigh.*

Case in point. My crazy talented friend Anne Casselman is off on the adventure of a lifetime, joining Alexandra Cousteau’s (yes, that’s Jacques Cousteau’s granddaughter) Blue Legacy team as they explore and raise awareness of water issues throughout North America. Anne is the new Expedition Writer (coolest job title ever), and will spend the next four month reporting from a bus full of researchers and media gurus.

Then there’s the talented Mr Colangelo, who’s apparently satisfied with the wildlife camera traps he’s been testing in our living room (capturing images of unsuspecting writers slurping breakfast cereal), and is heading back to the Sacred Headwaters of northern BC (read all about this amazing and endangered place here). This time he’ll be joined by a group of world renowned conservation photogs from the International League of Conservation Photographers to document this amazing place.

It all makes me realize that the old adage is true: persist in doing what you love, what means the world to you, and things will work out. Somehow. They just do.

As for me, I’m gearing up for a summer of teaching writing camps, novel writing, and celebrating the release of The Lost Souls of Island X, due out in August. And (if you can stand just one more piece of good news) I found out today that The Canadian Children’s Book Centre named The Ship of Lost Souls one of their best books for kids of 2010.

Man. All these good things call for chocolate. Or pie? Perhaps chocolate pie…

And if that weren’t exciting enough, then came the news that I’m a finalist for the Canadian Author’s Association’s Emerging Writer Award, which will be announced at the CanWrite! Conference in Victoria later this month. Well. You can imagine the happy dance that ensued. I was lucky that the news came early in the morning, and I had several hours to calm down before teaching that evening.

It’s an incredible honour (still hard to believe) to be up there with poet Jesse Patrick Ferguson and author Chad Pelley for this award. Good lord, I get chills just thinking of it.

Big thanks to the CAA and Chocolate Lily Awards for making my week. And congrats to all other finalists!

Of course I was thrilled. Before I ever tried my hand at writing for children, I focused on creative nonfiction and had a particular passion for the personal essay. So starting tomorrow, my students and I will be exploring all facets of it. I’ve spent the last few days gathering essays for my reading list, getting reacquainted with masters like Joan Didion and marveling at new voices like Sloane Crosley. I can’t wait to delve back into this world.

If you’re interested in exploring the personal narrative and live in Vancouver, do consider signing up for my fall course at VCC. You can find out more about it here.