On sunny days, three seasons of the year, I like to read outside my apartment. Sometimes passersby nod in my direction, and sometimes they’ll say something to me. “You’ve the perfect reading light,” a friendly woman said to me one particularly sunshiny afternoon. It may have been Spring.

“Ah, yes. I do, indeed,” I said, and smiled, tickled by the idea that the sun was the ideal reading lamp. Also, it was nice of the woman to share such good cheer, I thought. Not everyone does.

In fact, if people say anything to me, most often they grumble. In fairness, there’s a lot to grumble about, so that’s okay. I tend to listen, patiently, nodding my head. Because, on occasion, we all need someone to hear our grumbling, I think.

There’s no place to park in this downtown, people frequently say to me. Or they’ll gripe about getting a parking ticket; or all the eruptions in the sidewalk. Geez, you’d think the City would fix this, they’ll say, with all the money they rake in from stupid parking tickets.

My most common response to that? True.

But then — almost by habit, it seems, and almost without fail — I’ll add something jokey, or a little more pleasant. If someone complains about the weather, for instance, which happens a lot (if it’s cloudy or cold or super windy, say), I’ll look up at the sky and then say, “Well, it ain’t rainin’ frogs. So one good thing, I guess.”

This usually earns me a smile, sometimes a laugh.

One day it occurred to me that I say that a lot. One good thing. Because, really, there always seems to be some good thing, no matter the calamity. And so, when it came time for me to give this blog a name, One Good Thing came to mind.

The blog’s focus is on book reviews. And the thing about most every book, I have come to believe, is that there’s always something good to be said about them — yes, even the ones that aren’t as dazzling as you’d thought they’d be. The duds. The disappointments. The ones you end up donating to the library’s used book sale. And yes, even the books you found so friggin’ annoying you tossed them across the room.

Maybe it’s just the font, or the pretty cover art, or a fine first sentence that caught your fancy. I’m tellin’ ya, as a writer, an avid reader, and a former bookseller, there’s always one good thing to be said any book.

A quick for instance: Fifty Shades of Grey. Arguably one of the most terribly written books in decades, I was selling so many copies of that novel at my little bookshop in Perth, it was madness — a madness that really helped pay the bills.

I’d heard horrible things about the writing. Still, I was curious. And on a slow afternoon in the shop, I picked up one of the books (the whole trilogy was out then), opened it to a random page, and started reading. I read some cheesy dialogue, as I recall, and then these two words: “she mewled.” And yeah … I tossed the brand new book gently across my bookshop. Why? Because nobody mewls. It just doesn’t happen.

Fairly sure I said that aloud, too, to myself.

The tiny kitten mewled for its mother. Sure, that’s fine. That happens.

But: “I want you right here,” she mewled — or whatever the heck it was … no. Nope. Never. No thanks.

Another day in the shop a guy came in to browse and we got talking about those books. They were stacked, like, everywhere. Impossible not to notice. “I can’t keep them in stock,” I said. “It’s sort of silly, really. Because they really are not very well written.”

And this guy’s wise response I remember vividly: “Well,” he said, “at least people are reading.”

Which caught me off guard a moment. Then I said, “Hmmm. Yeah. That’s true. One good thing, eh.”

“Yep,” he agreed.

So maybe that’s where it all started. I don’t know. But you get the idea.

And so, needlessly long story short, that’s how this little blog happened upon its name.

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I’ve got big plans for this blog. But as some of you may know, I’ve had a rough winter. Some major health issues have me on the Injured Reserve list.

Still, there’s some good news — we have a banner!!!

The immensely charming illustration is the delightful creation of Grace Marshall, a talented young artist from Kitchener, Ontario. I could not be happier with Grace’s work.

The handsome cat in the lawn chair is named Julian, I’ve decided. He is fondly named after Julian Barnes, a favourite author of mine, who may or may not sit on old fashioned lawn chairs and wear cool hats, but most certainly reads books, and likely plenty of them.

I hope you delight in Julian as much as I do. He just looks so calm and cool and completely immersed in his book, well, it’s enviable, really, isn’t it?

“Julian, would you like to join us at the pub later on?”

“Oh, well,” he might say, after a time, carefully marking his page. “In a bit, perhaps. I’ve a few chapters to go.”

We all know what that’s like. When you’re rapt in a brilliant book, the pub can wait. Dinner can wait. Showering can wait. Everything can damn well wait.

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I haven’t posted a review here since early December. Unfortunately, I’ve been unable to sit up long enough to write much. I’ve been reading during my winter respite, though. I read a few pages at a time, then need to rest. With the pain I’m experiencing, it’s been difficult to focus. It’s also fatiguing.

But books have helped. (In arduous times, books always seem to help.) I’ve stacks of them near the bed I’ve got set up in my parents’ downstairs. I’ve been fickle, reading one then another, and then yet another, and then something entirely different. Novels, memoirs, poetry collections, writing reference books, even style manuals.

I can’t yet share a review of it but I recommend Janet Malcolm’s memoir Still Pictures, which contains sentences and passages so wise and beautifully written I’ve read them with tears in my eyes. It’s a wise and generous book, and she was an exceptional writer. I’ve wanted to tell a friend, “You can always count on a skilled photographer to describe life so luminously.”

When warmer weather comes, I hope to get back to my apartment. And when I do, health permitting, I’ll set up my lawn chair outside my door and read this one straight though. Can’t wait. I’ll be as content as Julian looks.

Movies have more than helped me pass the time this winter, too — they have entertained, delighted, made me cry, and like a small stack of favourite books, felt at times like loyal friends.

Sticking to gentle films, really, since pain tends to make one irritable — at least, that’s what they tell me … well, no, I’ve been mighty irritable at times. And gentle films have soothed my rather frayed and restless nerves.

The other night I watched Dan In Real Life, a movie I’d forgotten I enjoyed thoroughly way back when. It was funny and charming and just what I needed. I’d also forgotten that it was directed by Peter Hedges, who wrote the novel What’s Eating Gilbert Grape, a paperback I devoured and adored years ago (in 1991, I think), and so that one’s up next for me.

If you haven’t read that one, you should — especially if you liked the film, because Hedges adapted his book to the screen.

“It’s really cool.” — Booklist.

Kidding. From memory, that’d be my review.

So … I hope you like Julian! And I do hope to be back reviewing books and blogging about them soon.

Meantime, thanks for reading. That’s a nice sort of “welcome back.”

Thanks.

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