Monday, July 25, 2011

You Think You Know Me, But You Have No Idea (July 19th @ Ben McNally Bookstore, Toronto, review by Jessie Travis)


On a night thick with the humidity of late July, the air was made to feel denser by the stifling exhaust of downtown Toronto’s 6pm rush hour gridlock. Ben McNally Books (366 Bay Street, Toronto) was the venue for a refreshingly dry(-witted) evening of conversation and authorial banter, organised by Freehand Books, Canadian Bookshelf, and hosted by Book Madam herself, Julie Wilson. You Think You Know Me, But You Have No Idea was an evening devoted to the often sidelined art of non-fiction and memoir writing. On the evening’s docket was an illustrator, cartoonist, and writer, Sarah Leavitt, primatologist and freelance journalist, Andrew Westoll, and writer and magazine professional, Stacey May Fowles. Even though Fowles was unable to attend, the panel of speakers engaged the audience with frank and open dialogue about writing, craft, relationships, – both human and primate – and the role of the author in a nonfiction work.


Against the glow of the power point, Sarah Leavitt opened the evening with an intelligently warm and witty account of her latently released (September 2010) graphic novel, Tangles (Freehand Books, 2010). Derived from the notes and sketches taken during her mother’s Alzheimer’s, Leavitt’s series of distinctively hand-drawn, yet expertly crafted illustrations, weaves together the stories and memories of her mother’s mid-50’s diagnosis. As vivid frames flashed on the screen and Leavitt’s seemingly disembodied voice narrated the frames from the back of the room, what emerged was a complex and poignant story of mothers and daughters, sisters, friends, and lovers, and how these ties evolve through the challenges and celebrations of growing up.



From the tangled web of family relationships, the evening shifted focus to Andrew Westoll’s account of the chimpanzees of The Chimp House at the Fauna Foundation. Housing thirteen chimps in total, the Fauna Sanctuary provides refuge for abused animals from experimental medicine and entertainment industries. After spending two-and-a-half months in the sanctuary, Westoll cultivated not only a unique relationship with the population of the sanctuary but a newfound understanding of himself (self-discovery. It’s a beautiful thing). The result? Westoll’s sophomore novel, The Chimps of Fauna Sanctuary (HarperCollins Canada, 2011). Even from the briefest of readings, one cannot deny the beauty, ease, and intensity of Westoll’s writing. Suspense-filled, plot-driven, and emotionally engaging, The Chimps of Fauna Sanctuary has this loyal fiction reader venturing further into the rows of non-bookshelves across the city.


Though divergent in subjects, both Leavitt and Westoll found common ground on the topic of memoir writing in the conversation with Wilson following the readings. Westoll was the first to admit that while the non-fiction author does indeed enter into a project to tell the tale of another, there is an element of self-discovery and self-interest. Through the process of writing and editing the experience, the subject, the memories, an author discovers and unpacks what it was they were looking for when they began. Though the story of her mother’s Alzheimer’s, Tangles, for example, is just as much a story about Leavitt’s memory, her “hang-ups,” the mental and physical loss of a parent, and her sexual identification – as Leavitt states herself. Almost ringing in unison, with Wilson’s voice setting the tone, both authors agreed on the importance of making the non-fiction work read like a novel – or a “rollicking good read,” to borrow a phrase from Westoll.

Perhaps the only disappointing note in the evening was Wilson’s attempt to spark a conversation about Tangles queer subtext (Leavitt’s partner makes brief appearances in the graphic novel’s final cut). An aspect of the story that has been largely ignored by rest of the media, it continued to be sidelined in Tuesday’s event despite Wilson’s intelligently clever efforts to fuel the dialogue. Perhaps if Stacey May Fowles Fear of Fighting (Invisible Publishing, 2008) had herself been in attendance, the obviously rich and meaty topic would have received the proper air time that it very much deserved.






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