Charlotte Gill | author site & blog

May 31, 2007

In my opinion, the drug is ready

Several U.S. states have passed into law the mandatory vaccination of adolescent girls with Gardasil, Merck's cancer-preventing, anti-HPV drug. I, personally, find the "Tell Someone" HPV ~~marketing campaign~~ public health infomercials pretty creepy. Brought to you, by the way, "by one of Canada's leading research-based pharmaceutical companies." That aside, if I were the mother of a teenage girl I think you'd basically have to scrape me off the ceiling if news like this came down the pipe:

Dr. John Blatherwick, chief medical officer of Vancouver Coastal Health, is so impressed with the scientific data that he'd rather not wait for health policy recommendations from a Health Canada Immunization Committee (due by the end of 2007) and would like to start a mass vaccination program for B.C. girls this September. "We've entered a brave new world in medical science," he says of the Gardasil vaccine. "The studies have been rigorous and I think it's ready for mass use."

What is it with these doctor-officials, always gooing all over themselves about these new drugs the way everyone else gets excited about new iPods and the Wii and whatnot? Blatherwick, you wacky funster, guess with all that schooling you never got around to actually reading the Huxley.

The Tyee has an article today featuring study results for the vaccine in question. Two interesting points:

The vaccine only reduced the risk of precancerous abnormal cells by 17 per cent, and that, in fact, people who are vaccinated might be at risk of picking up twelve other high-risk strains of HPV not covered by the vaccine.

Also, the mortality risk of cervical cancer is 0.2%, "making it the second lowest ranking cancer threat in Canada." I've read this stat in several other places, and I'm surprised it's not more widely publicized.

May 30, 2007

The shelves are full but there's nothing to read

Not really, especially chez Pants, but sometimes I approach the question, "What to read?" like I'm holding the fridge door open in pursuit of the elusive snack. Hence, my love of Boldtype. Great reviews. Great design. Thank god it isn't a daily. I'd never get any work done.

May 29, 2007

Supercream

May 28, 2007

Sometimes you want the ugly bunny

What font does your favorite author use when kung fu fighting his or her latest draft into submission? Chances are it's Courier, the Ivory soap of fonts:

I went to Palatino when that was released. Maybe its verticality reminded me of the font that the word Marlboro was printed in on the cigarette packages, whose seductively elongated lowercase "l" and "b" still make me wistful, after more than a decade of not smoking. Palatino was my font for a long time, but Apple uses it in its advertising, which ruined it in the end.

I use Times New Roman, AKA "Secretary's Choice," simply because it's shitty. It also reminds me of my days of schlepping it out in office buildings, typing out grammatically incorrect dictations and making coffee for asshole businessmen. Nothing brilliant needs to happen in Times New Roman, which is why it's perfect for my purposes. What font do you use? (Via Q & Q.)

Weekend discoveries

1. Our new apartment. It comes with mountain views, an in-suite sauna. And a cubby.

2. The best way to terrify Ma G? Send her some newfangled technology for Mother's Day. Our email exchange:

CG: Did you try out the MP3 player?

MG: Not yet--have been very busy: yesterday we had a BBQ/yard sale/bake sale for a parish benefit. Will give it a whirl this p.m.

CG: You're afraid of it, aren't you?

MG: Yes.

CG: Don't be. Once you discover podcasts, your life will be changed. You'll be able to listen to all your geeky programs and even more geeky programs you didn't know existed. NPR, CBC, spanish lessons, even universities are now offering courses for free in podcast form. Just the humanities courses--everyone knows they're worthless anyway.

MG: What do you mean, geeky?

CG: Is this a set-up? It's too easy. It's like you want me to pick on you. I feel so used.

3. The best pizza in Vancouver is actually not in Vancouver.

4. Loquacious husband discovers, much to wife's chagrin, the quadruple Americano.

5. Buying a couch when one is homeless is a very stupid idea.

May 23, 2007

Craigslist ad of the day

In a rental posting titled, "$3250: FANTASTIC FURNISHED 2 BED/2BATH W/ CORRIDOR WATER/DOWNTOWN VANCOUVER VIEWS," some apartments are just "better living than a high end hotel!!!" (Punctuation theirs.) Not only that, but you can: "SAVE $ ON EXPENSIVE RESTAURANTS WHILE ENJOYING YOUR OWN GOURMET KITCHEN!" Delivered in the verbal mallet that is all-caps, just in case you didn't get the irony of needing to scrimp on dinner while paying more than $100/day in rent.

Making art out of work

Pal and poet Jennica Harper has some 17-syllable excellence posted chez Bookninja this morning in a piece about recreational vocational haiku. Notice now how I will shamelessly poach a sample and slap it up here like it is a reflection of something brilliant I have written:

The sign on the door
says meeting in progress. But
this is not progress.

"Work literature" has been a common subject in the book-bloggy world of late, mostly as side-notes to reviews of Joshua Ferris's Then We Came To The End. A novel I haven't got in my clutches yet, but damn, if it doesn't live up to the hype, I'm going to rip it into tiny shreds and sell it in Ziploc baggies as rabbit-hutch bedding. Is the work novel uncommon simply because work is boring? How to write about the boring without illiciting more of same?

Perhaps because the Computer Programmer and his colleagues often come equipped with packages of safety not unlike the one possessed by Rodge Janney, Don DeLillo's elevated everyman in the opening pages of Mao II: "He's got a degree . . . and a tax attorney and a cardiologist and a mutual fund and whole life and major medical." Unless in the service of a character's demise, such privilege is not usually the fiction writer's best bet for capitalising on dramatic or romantic opportunity.

May 21, 2007

Miss Snark goes dark

NYC literary agent, inventor of the "crapometer" and "clue gun," the tough-assed literary mom you never had, has hung up her virtual horsewhip. Two of my favorite Snarkisms:

1. "You only get one shot at this. Don't fuck it up. "

2. "Quit obsessing. Write well."

First Kurt Vonnegut, now this. Oh, poo.

Owls

Guess how many spotted owls are left in B.C. No really, just guess.

Endangered spotted owls in British Columbia have fallen to such critically low levels that the provincial government has been advised to capture all the remaining birds in "a triage approach to conservation," so that a zoo-based breeding program can be started.

A report provided to cabinet by a science advisory team recommends the government spend $3.4-million over the next five years capturing and breeding the birds before the species vanishes from B.C., the only province in Canada with a population.

Okay, the number is 25. Well, actually less than 25. Spotted owls will only hang out in virgin forests. The nerve. Just like those people who say with a dismissive wave: "Oh, I never go east of Main Street," or "I never park my car in Gastown." Damn specialty birds, it's their own fault. Better to be a crow.

May 20, 2007

It's all about the elbow room

I often forget about the luxury of office space--when I've got some. Then I spend a lot of time avoiding the overbearing legitimacy of "the study," writing cross-legged on the couch or holing up on a lumpy armchair in the back of a place like Libby's Kitchen. But now, in the thick of the apartment hunt, it's the main topic of domestic fantasy. I dug this up from under a few layers of desktop. Many of you who read the Guardian will have seen it already. A photo series featuring the workspaces of several famous British authors. This one belongs to Hilary Mantel, of recent Orange-shortlist, Beyond Black, fame.

Though lovely, I'm pretty sure I would have a hard time working here. The white walls, the vaulted ceilings--so much expectation in the air. My preference is cubbies. I like a room that fits my desk with a couple of inches to spare. Some squash-coloured paint on the walls. Windows optional. I know it sounds weird, but a large walk-in closet would be ideal. Too much air and I'm worried my thought-molecules will drift away.

May 18, 2007

Vanhattan

The mister and I returned to Vancouver over the weekend. We've spent the last six weeks working our little knuckles off in a town that time forgot, Gold River, BC (it deserves a post of its own, believe me). No cell phone reception, patchy internet, but impeccable snowmelt for tap water. And believe it or not, we actually saw children playing outside.

Seven days later, we're beating up the pavement in search of a new apartment. In that time we've waited for showings in line-ups of frantically weary house-hunters. We've filled out six-page applications. We've been pre-empted by high bidders. We've met landlords who've installed timers in bathrooms to limit showers to five minutes. We've seen rents climb $300 between the ad and the showing. We've read Craigslist ads featuring this phrase: NDP members only. Seen $1300 apartments with 40-year-old carpet and aluminum foil on the windows. Witnessed aquatic moss in toilet bowls. We now know the meaning of "Olympic fever."

What puts us back together again at the end of the day is the lovely, inspiring space of author wonder-couple Nancy Lee and John Vigna--who have graciously lent us their home while they're away at the Iowa Writers' Workshop. Their living room reminds me of a Richard Burton quote Ma G likes to offer every time I'm in-between: "Home is where the books are."