I was meant to advocate for Johanna Skribsrud's debut novel, The Sentimentalists (Gaspereau Press). Except I didn't get the book - and then, only via PDF - until Friday.
And though I'm used to tight deadlines, this was a bit tight.
Also, reading books in PDF format really really SUCKS.
In any event, though I was hoping I would come up with something subtle and nuanced, given the time constraints, I mostly just got up and mugged for five minutes.
The mugging was all about the book, of course, but still...
And I was halfway undone by the fact that emcee - and Frontier College grand poo bah - waved my book around while introducing me and talked about how good it was (which was decidedly off script).
Anyways, I sipped champagne all night because I was wearing my chocolate tweed suit and my tiger's eye jewelry and it was lovely to sip champagne, especially after my five minutes was up.
And then we all watched the Toronto ceremony on the big screen. And Skibsrud won. And cried. And her sister, back at her table, looked broken open.
Which was also sort of pleasant. You know, being right and all. And having said glass of champagne at my elbow...
And now I have this to say to the world-at-large: no more deadlines!
...except that the December poetry column will be due at least a week early, because of the holidays....
But after that! Nothing new on the pile!
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