I got some good news this week. Baby Daddy Blog is being featured on the BC Parent website. It's great to get this kind of encouragement from third-party sources, because until this point the blog has been largely a quiet little labour of love. I am definitely glad to be creating an archive of my reflections for the baby down the road, but the more people that read now, the more encouraged I am to keep cranking it out.
I also wanted to thank the regular readers of BDB quickly. I know you're out there, and it's great to see that friends and family and perfect strangers are all coming together for the exciting events that have happened and will happen in the next few months.
I don't have a ton to say today, but I did recently come across something kind of interesting while I was reading Malcolm Lowry's October Ferry to Gabriola for some research I'm doing. The book was published posthumously, which meant that the editor had to swoop in and try to piece together an entire novel from a very rough manuscript. This is challenging enough in itself, I'm sure, but in Lowry's case the challenge must have been double. Lowry was a notorious drinker, whose rambling, barely-fictional prose would be a total disaster if not occasionally drawn into focus by moments of lucid, mind-blowing description. He was never exactly known for his sense of organization, as brilliant as he may have been.
What I noticed about the book was that the two main characters, a husband and wife, had a son who sort of came and went in the narrative. It was like Lowry completely forgot the son existed a bunch of times, and then periodically scrambled to bring hm back in. There's no clear indicator where the son is during the novel's main action, for example, though perhaps he has been left in a hospital in Vancouver while the protagonists jaunt off to Gabriola Island to scope out a hovel sufficient for their dreams of living off the grid. Anyway, I just thought it was funny, this disappearing son, and appropriate to the waxing and waning we've experienced with regard to our own experience of late.
Dear son, I promise I won't periodically forget that you exist.
I also wanted to thank the regular readers of BDB quickly. I know you're out there, and it's great to see that friends and family and perfect strangers are all coming together for the exciting events that have happened and will happen in the next few months.
I don't have a ton to say today, but I did recently come across something kind of interesting while I was reading Malcolm Lowry's October Ferry to Gabriola for some research I'm doing. The book was published posthumously, which meant that the editor had to swoop in and try to piece together an entire novel from a very rough manuscript. This is challenging enough in itself, I'm sure, but in Lowry's case the challenge must have been double. Lowry was a notorious drinker, whose rambling, barely-fictional prose would be a total disaster if not occasionally drawn into focus by moments of lucid, mind-blowing description. He was never exactly known for his sense of organization, as brilliant as he may have been.
What I noticed about the book was that the two main characters, a husband and wife, had a son who sort of came and went in the narrative. It was like Lowry completely forgot the son existed a bunch of times, and then periodically scrambled to bring hm back in. There's no clear indicator where the son is during the novel's main action, for example, though perhaps he has been left in a hospital in Vancouver while the protagonists jaunt off to Gabriola Island to scope out a hovel sufficient for their dreams of living off the grid. Anyway, I just thought it was funny, this disappearing son, and appropriate to the waxing and waning we've experienced with regard to our own experience of late.
Dear son, I promise I won't periodically forget that you exist.
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