Gloria Greenfield Vancouver Women’s Bookstore
In the course of my research on Betty Lambert’s novel Crossings I learned about Gloria Greenfield, here’s a link to a profile about her work, activism and legacy.
Gloria Greenfield arrived in Vancouver, British Columbia, in 1972, near the beginning of the second wave of feminism. She shared little of her past with anyone, but threw herself into the present. One of Gloria’s first activities was to found, with actor Nora D. Randall, the Vancouver Women’s Bookstore, only the second or third one in all of North America. Many people doubted that the bookstore could survive: the view at the time was that men wrote all the good books and women had little of value to say anyway. But survive it did, often with Gloria running it alone, believing that the store could make it, never taking any pay
And look what I just tripped over. The list I was looking for in my previous post. What do you think of these titles?
A list of titles currently available in the entire collection may be found at: http://www.canadianelectroniclibrary.ca/collateral/BCBooksOnline.xls
BC Books Online
Ha! This looks very promising. A new initiative between our public libraries, publishers and schools called BC Books Online. Read more about it here
BC Books Online is collaboration between publishers and libraries to purchase electronic rights to a collection of non-fiction books by BC publishers and to make them accessible through public, school, and post-secondary libraries. It is the first time ever that publishers and libraries have come together with the objective to deliver digital content to an entire province.
Now my main question is can we see a list of the proposed titles? I am v curious to see what is included. It appears to be only non-fiction. Could a similar proposal be made to acquire digital rights to some of the buried fiction and novels that are out of print and where there are no longer circulating library copies.
In an attempted tumbling sequence last night, a full stop introduced itself in the middle of the sentence rather than the end. A mental full stop that is became a physical full stop, except that my round off is powerful enough that it doesn’t heed the mental over the physical … wham… over rotation. I have the full stop of that sequence tattooed on my elbow in a sore graze today. Add spittle with pride.
Interesting morning looking at material and images of strikes in Vancouver from the 1930’s period and fire insurance maps from the 1960’s. Amid the longshore workers documentation I caught an outta place single image from March 1970. The index explanation described the picture as: girl in bikini up Grouse Mountain with skier in the background. Common city past time heading up Grouse Mountain in a bikini. Glad to see it has archival significance!
I was also inquiring into the matter of postboxes, postal routes and taxi ranks, the archivist looked puzzled I’ve never heard of anyone doing this research says he, assuring me he’s certain they have no such thing.
I’ve been experiencing a degree of intellectual agitation (mental equiv of a label annoying the back of yer neck) over the matter of what I want to read next. Today I cracked it. I think I want to read a 1946 book that’s called Nightmare Alley (NYRB Classics) next I think someone Gresham is the author. It was adapted to a film in the 1940’s, the trailer made me laugh so hard today.
It’s time for some pulp methinks.
Failing that I’d like to find a literary equivalent of Agnes Varda to read. Something that dances entirely to and within its own unique tune, but has to be a tune I actually want to hear. Two other titles I am pondering tracking down are one called Doctor Tin and another anthology on work called More than our jobs worth. Both are older Pulp titles. I am still semi on my seventies blitz.
This, of course, is in addition to Betty, who I’ll be nesting with til December.
One of the dilemmas of organs is how interconnected they are, thus the ear, though it mainly sits on the side of the head and doesn’t get a great deal of attention is a vital aspect of doing the hoovering. Because the old ear and its parts keep us upright.
I have been forced to seriously address the quandary of whether a decent woman of forty should be able to swim. I think she should. I think she should wear a good green cardigan and she should swim. If a ferry sinks say she should swim away from it. How and ever, it appears that if the process of attaining such decency means said daycent cardigan’d woman has her ear on the pavement, well then a reassessment is in order.
I may have to give up the swimmin, which is not yet quite swimmin because the ear is keepin me awake and I don’t think there’s any point in being awake and pained, when the swimming is fact so shite.
Ce soir it threatened to derail the Wednesday tumbling. The serious sport! The real sport! At one point when throwing a back handspring my balance was so off I was rotating with and on only one arm and the prevailing wind the entire time was acute dizziness.
There are some wonderful new characters in the class. A round faced enthusiastic man who beamed to me that he was going to the splits by next Feb. Very good says I, work away. More males who have joined and who are fixated on somersaults. The people are really good fun and were very inquiring of our recent performance art piece and the gymnastic elements. Howd it go, they all wanted to know.
Indeed I’ve been v touched by the level of inquiry generally into the piece, long distance video calls pressing for every detail, bless, bless, I am blessed with loving and supportive friends. It is one of the greatest pleasures of my life, friendships so full of consistent caring and warmth. As my sister said in June, my friends are too good to me.
A friend phones, I think he’s calling to update me on his current love affair because I am a bit behind on proceedings. I settle in to be regaled, wondering if I need a cup of tea to accompany this lengthy amorous tale. So lover boy, says I, do tell.
It ended last weekend, he replies.
125MPH love. Zipped through the stations of inform, regale, and speculate to descend and Bitte die Tur schlafen or schlossen und fasten.
Just been doing a bit o research into UBC Special Collections Pulp Press fonds, hunting for reviews and stuff related to Betty Lambert’s novel Crossings for our Dec. 1 upcoming event. I trawled a lengthy list of the box descriptions and noted that the kinds of materials or materials recorded on may no longer exist in the current day. All future fonds may be more digital and possibly easier on the back stacking and storing them.
My partner and I had an interesting conversation about a month back where he was describing the graphic difference in old BC Tel bills from 10-16 years ago, even the paper was different. I have an old Work Safe BC pamphlet book I picked up some place discarded, it’s probably from the late 70’s early 80’s. Each time I go to chuck it out I resist simply because of the colour palatte they choose and the bulgy almost bubble shaped lettering and the fudged in features of everybody. Everyone looks like they are on the same volleyball team regardless of their situation, or outfit or features. There’s a duplication between people and I think it’s because there’s nothing sharp about the photos.
One time a good friend and I were having another chat. He’d seen an old clip of a telly show in Ireland with a bunch of set dancers on it. The camera panned or somehow took in the audience clapping. He was astonished. What was it? Says he. Ah ha. Everyone had dark hair, there were no blonde people! I guess this was pre the highlight era.