Tag Archives: reading

Shadow work — lightly lightly here we go

Sometimes it just feels impossible. Book, no book, book, no book. It feels strange that it has been a year and a half or so since Toxemia came out. The strange after feeling of writing book, waiting for book, launching book, reading from book. Then there is just book. Extant.

This was a distinctly more vulnerable process than my other two books and the experience of reading from the memoir was much more painful. I generally find readings enjoyable (not the before/after social bits which feel terrifying but the reading of things aloud) but this felt more like launching myself off a cliff each time. I could still feel the feedback from the give/take with the audience but it was more tiring. Fire took longer to catch.

I’m grateful for the positive feedback that I received from some folks who read it and the reviewers that took the time to read it and to share their thoughts. Beyond grateful to my publisher and my editor and my early readers who helped nurse it to being. I’m grateful to other people for sharing their own frustrations and stories relating to mood, the medical system, birth.

But I can’t help but feel like I’m a disappointment. I say I rather than it because it feels as though it cost quite a lot to write it and then put it forward. There are vulnerabilities there that still feel raw and I fret them. I worry whether the cost balanced the benefit. I don’t mean financially or by response. But whether I’ve disequilibrated an internal system. Did I try hard enough? Or too hard? Maybe I didn’t do enough to make it worth it. Maybe I should’ve waited till the kids were older.

I suspect that won’t be my final feeling on it. Maybe it’s too soon to calculate what it means or doesn’t. I suspect I’m not paying attention to my own lessons and maybe that’s just because it’s winter and I’m tired. Maybe it’s being 47 instead of 39 like I was when Charm was published. Is it a problem of mirrors or a problem of shadows? Not sure. I will be in my 50s at the very earliest if I ever publish another book. But I’d have to find the brain underneath all the other things I have to do in order to complete one. I’d have to carve time and there is so little.

All that to say that I do take it to heart when people said something kind to me about Toxemia or any of my books. And I need to make more of an effort to reach out to others when their work impacts me. I’ve been reading much more this past year though much of it has been non-fiction or books designed to distract. Writing retreat is likely not in the cards anytime soon. The work feels impossible.

Links of no particular order or meaning:

My better brain suggests spending more time reading this or similar things: https://shanders-red-eye.beehiiv.com/p/microdosing-residencies. Spouse is very good at writing during ringette practice.

I had fun in Nova Scotia in the fall. I was pleased to see friends and family that I hadn’t seen in a long time and it was odd to be reading at the BAC which looked much the same as during my undergrad. I wrote a small something for the anniversary of estuary, the students arts magazine. Celebrating 25 years. PDF of the most recent issue: https://english.acadiau.ca/files/sites/english/2025-2026/estuary%20Fall%202025%20Final%20for%20Printer.pdf

Did you know there are different types of frost? I love them. https://www.its.caltech.edu/~atomic/snowcrystals/frost/frost.htm
https://www.rmets.org/metmatters/types-frost

This song gets tripping through my head far too often: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MvXqPbi9fjg&list=RDMvXqPbi9fjg&start_radio=1

Recognized an altered tune in Bridgerton as this one which tweaked memories of when my playlists were all or nothing. The face burns for late twenties me. : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GwiNZNJxTN8&list=RDGwiNZNJxTN8&start_radio=1

Upcoming Events & ThanksBe

A quick flip post of thankyous and mentions. The fall and winter fell into a mix of normal (happy but busy) return to work, chaotic family schedules, a tiny bit of travel, general tired, and a few readings. I both welcome and regret spring. The quiet of late fall and deep winter lets me hide and look out windows. It affords more grace for quiet. I think I sometimes pretend that I don’t need that or that my energy is better than it is but it’s an illusion. Rest is required.

I’ve been grateful for:

A warm reading and discussion at Octopus Books with Shannon Arntfield who was launching her debut poetry book Python Love. Thank you to Octopus Books for being such gracious hosts as well as the League of Canadian Poets and the Canada Council for their event through a National Poetry Month event.

Alt text: photo of myself and Shannon Arntfield holdering our books after the event at Octopus Books, taken from their Instagram.

This review by melanie brannagan frederiksen in the Winnipeg Free Press:
“In Toxemia (Book*hug, 176 pages, $23), Christine McNair uses medical and cultural histories, folklore and memoir to consider, specifically, preeclampsia — and more generally, the way pregnancy, chronic and acute illnesses are treated in women. McNair’s use of a prose line throughout the text seamlessly blends moves from critique and analysis to memoir to the immediacy of lived memory.

“I am now more afraid of telling doctors my history,” she writes, after struggling to get adequate care for depression while she is breastfeeding. In the penultimate poem, McNair opens with the disorienting truth: “I’ve been told my memories are not my own.””

This review by Andreina Romero, in Room magazine:
“A term describing the presence of toxins in the blood, toxemia is also an old name for pre-eclampsia. Moving between memories of her pregnancies, emergency hospital visits, and her struggles with insomnia and depression as a bookbinding apprentice, McNair weaves a narrative history as lived through her body. At its heart, her investigation is about the ways the body rebels against the violence of pregnancy, as well as the intractability of illnesses that disproportionately affect women due to underfunding and under-research.

McNair tries to make sense of the condition in different ways: lyrically through vivid descriptions of symptoms and diagnoses, and genealogically by tracing the medical history of the women in her family—a great-grandmother who died at thirty-six, and her mother, who suffered a miscarriage before McNair was born. The most striking way, however, is analytical: one table lists the overlapping symptoms of a heart attack, depression, and the third trimester of pregnancy. Another compares the symptoms of pre-eclampsia and anxiety. Through these stark juxtapositions, McNair highlights the dangers and sacrifices implicit in the bringing of life into the world.”

This upcoming event through the Speaking Crow series (via plume) in Winnipeg! Both my parents grew up in Winnipeg so it’s a chance to connect with some family when I’m there next week. Thank you to the Speaking Crow series and to the Writers Union of Canada for their support of this event through the National Public Readings Program.

Alt text: promotional information for Speaking Crow reading series event on Tuesday May 6th from 6:30 to 7:30 pm at the St. Boniface Library in Winnipeg. Admission Free.

Also grateful for another upcoming event in Ottawa with rob mclennan and Amanda Earl at the Lieutenant’s Pump in early June! More details soon but it will be good to have a chance to read again in YOW.

I’m hoping to add a few more readings in 2025. More to come. We’re travelling to Ireland in July to follow our daughter’s choir and we’re hoping to read there too if we can. I know I’ll be in Nova Scotia in the fall (dates to be finalized) and I’m hoping to have a few readings there.

In the meantime, I’m watching the garlic and rhubarb come up in the garden. I’m titrating my energy in a beaker. I’m frustrated by the soreness in my right hip. I’m trying to hold a thought. The kids are outgrowing their shoes. I can’t keep track of all the school events. I’m planning the summer. I’m fretting the books in our house. I have the normal flow of annual specialist appointments and endless med managements. I’m fretting the loss of our family doctor for myself/kids and how we’ll replace her. I fret budgets. I’m wishing I could justify buying the garden beds that I want. I’m alternating hot/cold in the constant flow of dread news. I’m looking forward to buying seedlings as the dire winter news ate my capacity for seedlings. I blank out with cozy mysteries and games full of perpetual crops. I can’t wait for all the actual perennial herbs and foods in our garden. I plan the arrival of dirt. The damn blossoms. Can’t wait.

Touring Toxemia: new book out now!

I’m excited to say that Toxemia, my hybrid poetic memoir is now out with Book*hug Press!

I’ll be doing a mini tour of sorts (details below) and am so grateful to Jay/Hazel/Reid/Gareth/Britt/Stuart/Laurie/all-all-all-all at Book*hug and to my editor Tanis MacDonald for all of the work in getting this book to press. Thanks as well too to Kate Sutherland for her use of her beautiful collage art for the cover. And to my family and friends for their never-ending support.

I’ve already had book launches in Picton, St. Catherines, Ottawa and Mississauga with forthcoming launches in Toronto, Hamilton, Kingston, Calgary, and Vancouver. I’m hoping to add a few more dates — in particular in the Maritimes and Winnipeg.

Toxemia is simultaneously a history in/of medicine, a feminist rallying cry, and a raw but scalpel-sharp work of poetry. A genre-blurring text that boldly bloodies lines between poetic and reproductive bodies, between archive and lyric, between manifesto and song, between autoethnography and free verse. A bodypoem flex.” —Sarah de Leeuw, author of Lot

“How much pressure can build in language before the story of women’s health blows apart? In Toxemia, Christine McNair tests the narrative as if it were a problem patient. She charts the events that bring her close to death several times with the skill of the most intuitive midwives and rigorous clinicians, though representation is not diagnostic. This is a beautiful etiological study.” —Elee Kraljii Gardiner, author of Trauma Head and Against Death: 35 Essays on Living

Toxemia is astonishing. It’s difficult to use positive adjectives for something so searing and widespread as toxicity in all its forms as it is portrayed in this book. But what can be said is that we need this book. We need  ‘a pattern that is only legible’ to McNair. If nothing else, in this undetermined narrative, we may read our multiple selves, our own fragilities to systemic damage and unutterable forces beyond our control.” —Madhur Anand, Governor General’s Literary Award–winning author of This Red Line Goes Straight to Your Heart

NOV 4th, TORONTO, ON: The Book*hug fall 2024 Poetry Bash! https://www.facebook.com/events/1047803116623411

NOV 7th, HAMILTON, ON: Book*hug Presents the Fall 2024 Hamilton Launch! https://www.facebook.com/share/Jdk7qWXLBsWGzF9K/

NOV 17th, KINGSTON, ON: Drift/line Reading Series, details forthcoming.

NOV 21st, CALGARY, AB: Single Onion Reading Series, details forthcoming.

FEB 2025, VANCOUVER, BC: Details forthcoming.

Hope to see some of you soon!