Oh Valentine

The Trouble with Valentine's Day - Rachel Gibson (Avon Books, 2005)

How to Marry a Marquis - Julia Quinn (Avon Books, 1999)

It's February, so how could I not pick up the first book? And it's another one of those books where the protagonist is a former hockey player. Teemu Selanne even makes a brief appearance, on the television, where Katie astutely points out how hot he is. (This is during his Avalanche days though, so ugh.) But there really isn't much hockey. Katie has retreated to her grandfather's home, to help the widower run his store and get away from stresses back home in Las Vegas. Rob has retreated to the town where his mother now lives, following a shocking incident that ended his hockey career. And I feel like that's all I need to say.

Oh, except the Valentine's connection: the book starts on Valentine's Day, when Katie hits on a hot stranger in a bar on the way to town, is rebuffed, and later humiliated when the hot guy turns out to be her neighbor. Or, and he didn't turn her down for the reasons she expected.

Going back in time was a bit more fun. Elizabeth needs to marry money in order to care for her orphaned siblings, and when she comes across the embarrassingly titled "How to Marry a Marquis," she can't help but look through it. Funny thing is, there actually is a marquis around, except he's masquerading as an estate manager for spy-ish reasons. (As one does.) When they meet and sparks fly, she's sad that she's falling for a guy who can't solve her money woes, and he's not sure whether he ought to reveal his true identity. And when she finds out, the ensuing bedlam seems like something out of a Moss Hart/George Kaufman play. Delightful. Hard to believe, but delightful.

(Don't expect my romance reading pace to fall off anytime soon.)

"Old timey" hockey is BS

Icebreaker - Deirdre Martin (Berkley Sensation, 2011)

At first, I couldn't figure out what made me so cranky about this book. It follows a formula that has worked well enough for me in the past: urban career woman ends up working for/with a hockey team [other sports acceptable] and is drawn to the no-nonsense, driven captain.

In this case, Sinead O'Brien is defending Adam Perry against trumped up assault charges stemming for a fairly brutal (albeit not uncommon) hit on another team's player. Obviously, the assault charge thing is absurd, fine. But it raises an entire plotline that posits Adam as the heroic defending of traditional hockey, against suits that are trying to sissify the game. While I'm as eager as the next girl to see Gary Bettman hilariously skewered as a greasy, greedy, union-busting lawyer, this plot rankles. Big time.

I'm sorry, but even in 2011 (especially in 2011) the issue of headshots in professional hockey was too big to dismiss so blithely. It also happened to be the year my very favorite player - the reason I became a hockey fan in the first place - finally retired, because doctors told him continuing to play was far too risky given his history of concussions. What Martin does - probably without intending to, or maybe she just disagrees with me - is glorify a style of play that became increasingly dangerous, that takes headshots, concussions, and brain damage as an acceptable price to pay. I'm sorry, but I can't get on board with that, and as a result, I could only celebrate the idea that Adam Perry retired, allowing the "evil suits" on the Board of Governors to really push the kinds of rule changes that would make hockey more about skills and less about trying to injure your opponent in the name of sport.

16 y.o. Erin's dream job

Those Guys Have All the Fun: Inside the World of ESPN - James Andrew Miller and Tom Shales (Little, Brown and Company, 2011)

When I was a teenager, I desperately wanted to work at ESPN. Statistics preferably, but whatever. I was completely enthralled by the world of sports, and how could I not want to work for the Worldwide Leader? There was this small thing about being located in Bristol, but I figured I could sort that out.

At any rate, I've always had a soft spot for the network, one that has survived despite their callous disregard for hockey in the years since they lost broadcasting rights. So this huge (roughly 750 page) oral history felt like it was right up my alley.

And in so many ways, it was. Different voices - often conflicting - tell the story of ESPN's genesis and rise to glory. It was a peek behind the scenes, and a helpful glimpse of the ways it was amazing, and the ways it really wasn't.

But still, I had such a time getting through this beast. I started it two months, and it languished often enough on my nightstand, because I craved narrative. I needed a story. And this wasn't the right book to give it to me. Which in no way is meant to disparage Miller's & Shales' work, which is incredible. But it just felt overwhelming, and endless, and sad.

That said, it was fun to hear about the first decade, the one I never knew. And then the 90s, when I discovered sports, and started setting my TV to turn on SportsCenter every morning as an alarm clock, and watched pretty much anything that was on, even (dread) boxing. And there was hockey on then! And then shows that I had all but forgotten, or whatever. To realize how many of these names I recognized without really noticing that I knew them.

I'm nothing but glad that I read this, but I'm also shockingly relieved that I'm finished.

Falling in love amidst a whole lotta plot lines

Secrets of the Lost Summer - Carla Neggers (Mira, 2012)


We've probably established that I am a sucker for novels featuring hockey players. (Too lazy to find supporting links. Bad librarian.) So that's how this book came across my radar. She's back home in her small town licking her wounds and pursuing a new venture; he's a former hockey player who inherited the rundown house down the lane. Sounds simple enough, despite the shocking lack of fake marriages or anything of the like. :)

But then there's more. The house fell into Dylan's lap because of his father, who was hunting for treasure. And the old lady who owned the house for decades before that has a secret. And Olivia's whole family is terrified about an agoraphobic anxiety that may or may not be genetic. And everyone wants to either stay home or escape to somewhere else, or both all at once.

So there's a lot going on, and as someone who struggles to come to terms with her own (different) brand of anxiety, I found a lot of the anxiety sideplot(s) confusing. And the hockey thing..... well, no. There wasn't enough of it to matter. You could probably change his old profession by altering less than 100 words in the book, and it wouldn't really make a difference to the story. But that's okay. Because it was sweet. And it did feel a little like coming home. It was one of those books that made me feel okay about how often I want to embrace the side of me that is a homebody and crafty and bake-y. (The hidden Etsy-er?) Now if only to find the time to let her out....

Sex and hockey in DeLillo's America

Amazons: An Intimate Memoir by the First Woman Ever to Play in the National Hockey League - Cleo Birdwell (better known as Don DeLillo) (Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1980)


Apparently DeLillo has pretty much disowned this book, omitting it from official bibliographies and blocking its republication. (As a result, this book was tough to track down in a library.) I'm not entirely sure why. I mean, it's not great literature, but it brings in much of the absurdity that I found in White Noise (and one of the same characters, for that matter).

But I didn't read it because of DeLillo. In fact, if I remember correctly, I heard about the book well before I found out Birdwell was a pseudonym. You know me, I'm a sucker for hockey books. And for complaining about how unrealistic they are. And this one offers ample opportunity.

Cleo is a rookie for the Rangers. And the first woman to play in the NHL. So she gets a lot of attention, naturally. But apparently she is like Taylor Hall or something, the rate at which she seems to score. And speaking of scoring, there is plenty of that off the ice. It seems like everyone circling the team eventually succumbs to the belief that sex with her will ... I don't know, do something. And despite assertions that make her seem sorta meh about most, if not all these men, she is usually a willing participant. In some of the weirdest sex scenes I've read in a while.

And then there is the former player who shares her apartment, a man suffering from some bizarre affliction and whose search (aided by Cleo) ends with him spending months asleep in a machine. The way in which this whole scenario is normalized is what I remember best about DeLillo from past forays into his work. And it hints at something deeper than "Cleo plays hockey and has lots of sex." But I  just couldn't get my finger on it.

A likely match

Sex, Lies, and Online Dating - Rachel Gibson (Avon Books, 2006)

Lenny and Eunice were really bringing me down. This totally beautiful and heartfelt story, no matter how satirically presented, was a little more than I could handle. Especially because it was, as promised, "super sad."

So I needed another love story to read in tandem. Enter Rachel Gibson. She writes contemporary romance novels, and first caught my eye (in a Booklist capsule review maybe?) because at least a few of her titles center around the fictitious NHL Seattle Chinooks. Yay hockey players! This one does not, but our protagonist is a fan of the minor-league team in Boise.

In addition to liking hockey, Lucy is a mystery writer who has decided to tackle the subject of a serial killer who meets men on dating sites and then sends them to their death via erotic asphyxiation. So she has to date some for research. The trouble is that someone in the city is acting out her book, even while it's still being written. Which leads her to Quinn, a cop who is dating around in hopes of drawing out the killer, who is, obviously, Lucy. Right? Blah blah immediate physical connection, growing emotional attachment, annoyance at lies and concerns about how the other one feels, etc. In short, the perfect antidote to Lenny and Eunice. So just what I needed.

The People's History of the Fastest Game on Ice

Hockey: A People's History - Michael McKinley (McClelland & Stewart, 2006)

So, the blog title is kinda lazy, but I'm going with it.

This monster tome is the coffee table companion to what I believe was a CBC miniseries about 5 years back. It's about 9x12 and weighs in at.... a bunch of pounds (kilos?), and is chock full of pictures and sidebars. Including some amazing ones from early in Canadian hockey history and of a shockingly sweet 13 y.o. Wayne Gretzky.

The book is a little like if a Ken Burns documentary got shoved into a book. It makes strange segues, and fades to sepia a bit. Which is probably all the case b/c it was a documentary shoved into a book. But such fantastic stories. Girls using their skirts to help hide the puck as they deked around a defender, dudes whose names are on trophies being actual people. Getting drunk and trading a player for $1million for example. Or forcing everyone on your team to enlist during WWII.

It took me weeks to get through this thing - lots of lapses in concentration and intervening life and whatnot. But experiencing it over time, in bits and pieces, was sort of the way to go. How better to go through >100 years of one's favorite sport, especially as interwoven into the history of a country?

I'd like to mention the severe lack of Paul Kariya, but I guess that's to be expected. *I* know that he was a crucial part of the 2002 Olympic team, and that'll have to be good enough. :)

I heart Michael Ondaatje

Anil's Ghost - Michael Ondaatje
New York: Knopf, 2000

I went through a Canadian phast in my late high school years. While this was largely due to a certain hockey player, it also included a love affair with Ondaatje's The English Patient (both novel and film) and Joy Kogawa's Obasan. I had dreams of moving to Vancouver and having a big dog and taking him on walks to Stanley Park. All of which is introduction, of sorts, to the Canadian Ondaatje's 2000 novel about his native Sri Lanka.

I read it in Denver, and the cold weather and warm family atmosphere made for a gripping counterweight to the book's sultry temperatures and political chill. You understand why Anil left for England, America, etc., and work to understand why she returned to practice forensic anthropology, investigating the murders and atrocities committed by political factions within and against the government. You also work to understand the two brothers who accompany her, one an anthropologist, one a doctor, both destroyed both by their own pasts and the turmoil of their country.

It's hard to say that a lot happens, in the traditional sense of the word. I found myself thinking, well this is where I would go with this plot, and then remembering that Ondaatje is a lot less trite or more interesting than I can be. His prose is lyrical and haunting and quiet and disjointed and all sorts of other good things. Had I not been on vacation, I might have noted passages to share; instead you will have to take my word for it.

In short, he's gorgeous, and I was unsettled and unsatisfied in an entirely satisfying way.

Schools and Sabbaths

I'm dreadfully behind on the New Yorker (which is common enough, I admit). So I am still reading the January 15th issue. But here were a couple fun/interesting articles that I wanted to share:

"Expectations" by Katherine Boo. (it's not up on their site, but you may be able to read it here)
Since a lot of my work deals with "at-risk" youth, and since I am still mulling over teaching as a career, this article about Denver's Manual High School is especially compelling to me. MHS is mostly minority and poor, and rife with gangs. And... "for a decade, Manual High had been the object of aggressive and thoughtful reforms," none of which made any lasting improvements. In Boo's telling, along came new Superintendent Michael Bennet, whose plan to help the remaining student at Manual (which had dropped from 1100 students to about 600), was to close the school and transfer them elsewhere, offering extra mentoring and support. The students and community didn't buy it. I'm about halfway through the article, so not entirely sure where it's going to go. But I tend to have such conflicting thoughts about these kinds of articles: on the one hand, every time someone like a NYer reader is forced to face the ways we have failed public school students, that's a good thing. On the other, the wretchedness of the situation can become numbing, and I'm afraid that readers start seeing the students as symbols, rather than actual young men and women with dreams, aspirations, different skills and talents - they may not all be scholars, but that doesn't mean they're all failing.

"Playoffs" by Shalom Auslander (also maybe available here)
Auslander writes about the role of religion in his life, and how his childhood put literally the fear of God into him. Most poignantly for me, the crux of the story was whether God (hmm, since Auslander is Jewish, should I be writing G-d? He didn't in the article... but anyway, whether God) would allow his beloved Rangers to win their first Stanley Cup in 54 years. Playoff games kept happening after sundown on Friday or before sundown on Saturday; since finances had forced him and his wife out of Manhattan and into a Jewish suburb in New Jersey, he was under his neighbors' observant (pun, get it?) eyes all the time. The article catalogs Auslander's negotiations with God, which can be dizzying. He acknowledges that lighting a joint breaks two Shabbat taboos (Kindling a Fire and Baking, the latter of which made me chuckle); but also is keenly aware of God's (somewhat sadistic) onminpotence. Auslander has a great comedic voice (and hello? there's also hockey) so this was one of the more enjoyable NYer Personal Histories I've read in some time.

Also, during my search for online versions of the article, I can across this blog. Didn't read it much, but I'm quite intrigued.