I gave the above candle to Dave on his birthday at the end of December because it pretty much sums up the year for us (and as Dave noted when he opened it with delight, discovering and binge-watching Schitt's Creek was one of 2021's few highlights). 2021 began with another year of COVID lockdowns — hard on everyone but particularly frustrating for us as we tried to take care of Dave's parents' mounting health crises — and while I was grateful for time off work that let me spend my days with Dave's Dad as he increasingly couldn't take care of himself on his own, nothing about this year felt like a vacation or a reset; 2021, more than anything, feels like a lost year. As noted here before, Dave's Mom passed away in May, his Dad just eight weeks later, and although we had a very small interment ceremony for the pair of them at the beginning of August, Dave feels really bad that restrictions haven't loosened up enough, at the right time, for us to have held a celebration of life with more of their friends and family in attendance. I know that they would understand the delay, but Bev and Jim do deserve so much more than we've been able to provide so far. Here's to getting it right in 2022.
The absolute highlight of the year was Kennedy and Zach's wedding in September up at Sauble Beach (and we will be forever grateful that we were able to get that property back into family hands, and that Dave's parents would be aware of that fact, before they passed away). I was happy for Mallory that she decided to go back to school, and while I miss having her around, I know it's good for her to be independent and live in her new apartment with her friends. The only other real event of note was my thyroid surgery in October, but I've already written all I want to about that for now. No trips this year; no concerts or theatre; not even an extra number of books read despite the lockdown: 2021 was a Schitt show.
This was a year that saw me wanting to burn down everything that had recently been giving my life meaning. The gym was closed for the first half of 2021, and as numbers were tightly controlled when it did reopen, they introduced a prebooking app, with the understanding that if you don't give two hours notice before cancelling a booking, you'd be charged a $15 fee. When my father-in-law passed so quickly one evening at his hospice, I didn't think to cancel my gym booking for the next morning — and when I woke too exhausted to attend and only gave one hour notice, I was disgusted to have then been charged the $15 (which is not much money but underlined the fact to me that they are a business and not the "family" that the coaches are encouraged to present themselves as; that's a pretty petty money grab when the 6:45 a.m. class is never even half full.) Only my sister-in-law's desire to keep going every morning stopped me from rage-quitting.
I was also getting tired of the Zoom meetings for book club — this year did not feel like it was providing the same degree of interpersonal connection, and when only two others bothered to read my pick for October (The Only Good Indians — an Indigenous Horror that I thought would be perfect for Halloween and for helping us as Canadians on our path to Truth and Reconciliation), I was truly offended. I haven't attended another meeting since, which I don't even know if anyone has noticed, and I don't know if I'll go back.
And I was also pretty annoyed at work (despite the managers having been very understanding throughout the year about the time off I needed for end-of-life care, the wedding, and the surgery) when I felt like I was overscheduled in December; too many closing shifts, too many days in a row without time off. My old manager retired in October, and it might be a matter of the new manager needing to better learn the scheduling system, but there was a definite air of disgruntlement throughout the store in the lead-up to Christmas. And when my schedule had me working eight days in a row, I could have rage-quit the second I saw it. But then I recognised the pressure that the managers themselves were under, and while I wasn't going to actually come out and complain about it, one joke said in the presence of a manager ("Stop asking if I'm back in tomorrow — I'm in for eight days in a row, which isn't 'technically illegal', so I'll be here") was enough for her to ask me if I wanted the 22nd or the 23rd off as she would be happy to cover me. I was a bit chastened by the offer, tried to refuse it, but she insisted as it was the "right thing to do" and I gratefully took the 23rd (which actually gave me three days off in a row at Christmas, changing me from the worst schedule in the store to the best; I am certain there are resentments pointed at me about this; everyone is exhausted right now). Even my own manager apologised to me for the rotten schedule, thanked me for my understanding, and looked like she was about to cry as she opened her arms to give me a hug. How could I rage-quit that? Ultimately, it's the connections that I've made with my co-workers — and the opportunities that the job has given me to display competence — that keeps me coming back; I have no reason to quit if I'm still feeling fulfilled in these ways.
Like I said above, I read a relatively low number of books in 2021, and that can be tied to this year's lockdowns and losses: When Mallory and I were here together for months, I didn't want to be constantly ignoring her for books. And when I was needed to sit with my father-in-law throughout the day as he declined, I wasn't going to bring a book with me and not act like I was just there for a visit. Dave and I spent most of May and all of September up at Sauble Beach, but we were busy with projects throughout our days and I couldn't ignore him for books when we were done our work. Even the last book I read this year (The Dawn of Everything) took nearly a month to get through because I was so exhausted from work (which, I want to note, hadn't been the case through "Christmas in retail" in earlier years), so this, overall, felt like a year without reading (but 107 books read for the year is hardly nothing.)
So, as in previous years, I present my top reads in no particular order.
Top Ten New Fiction (some are ARCS which aren't yet released, but read in 2021)
I loved revisiting these characters from The Break, and I also appreciated how Vermette seamlessly wove in the realities of COVID protocols as they relate to the fostercare and penal systems. Much of this deeply affected my heart and mind.
Burntcoat
I loved the writing in this: I do believe this will be read years from now by people wanting to understand what living through COVID was like (even if this is just metaphorical and quite a bit steamier than my usual reads).
With Heather O'Neill, it's all about delightful language and I loved every word of this.
Another novel written under COVID lockdown which perfectly captures the essence of the experience; my favourite Emily St John Mandel work to date.
Nothing the Same, Everything Haunted: The Ballad of Motl the Cowboy
This is the book that I keep telling everyone was my favourite read of 2021: the language and the ideas totally captivated and provoked me.
The Mystery of Right and Wrong
As a longtime fan of Wayne Johnston's, what this novel reveals of the author's own reality was absolutely mind-blowing to me.
This novel contains everything I love about Guy Vanderhaeghe: a thrilling plot with beautiful writing.
I do love anything related to Shakespeare and the mounting of his plays, but more than that, this felt like raw and relatable feminist fiction
What Strange Paradise
A worthy winner of the Giller Prize, this is such a perfect examination of the refugee experience that I can't stop thinking about it.
Tomnorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow
This is another book that keeps coming back to me; quirky and different with fantastic characters, I loved every bit of this.
Top Five-ish Nonfiction Books Read in 2021
My top paradigm-challenging read.
Vagina Obscura and The Menopause Manifesto are a natural pairing (as they both advocate for women having the information they need to make informed health decisions) but both also deserve to stand on their own as fascinating and important reads.
I Had a Brother Once and Vulnerability is My Superpower are a less natural pairing, but as interestingly-formatted memoirs (a prose poem and a comic collection) they each deeply affected me in unique ways.
I do love books about books and writing (and so to this one I will add two honourable mentions: The Meaning of Myth and the wonderful Elena Ferrante's In the Margins)
I also love books about animals and this one was one of those fascinating memoirs dressed up as a scientific investigation that can be great when they're done well (I also enjoyed the literary/animal mashup of Aesop's Animals: The Science Behind the Fables and feel compelled to add two dishonourable mentions, from which I had expected so much more: Susan Orlean's On Animals and Mary Roach's Fuzz: When Nature Breaks the Law.)
And although I didn't get around to much classic fiction this year, I did really enjoy Moby Dick (and especially as I read it soon after the wonderful Fathoms: The World in the Whale), I was fascinated by the art project around The Old Woman and the Sea, I was only mostly satisfied by Walden: Life in the Woods (but am certainly enlarged by having finally gotten around to it), and although Agnes Grey might have been my least favourite Brontë novel so far, it certainly wasn't a waste of my time. Here's to many more classic reads in the years to come!
I feel like I usually have more to say than this — and with oversized losses and the happiest of gains this year (I do so love having a son-in-law), this feels like a year about which I should have so much to say — but 2021 was definitely a Schitt show and I'm done with it, ready to look forward to the future. Here's to embracing all the things that work for me and blowing up those that don't!
