In a Toronto library, home to the mad and the marginalized, notes appear, written by someone who believes he is Rigoletto, the hunchbacked jester from Verdi’s opera. Convinced that the young librarian, Miriam, is his daughter, he promises to protect her from grief. Little does he know how much loss she has already experienced; or does he?
The Incident Report, both mystery and love story, daringly explores the fragility of our individual identities. Strikingly original in its structure, comprised of 140 highly distilled, lyric “reports,” the novel depicts the tensions between private and public storytelling, the subtle dynamics of a socially exposed workplace.
The Incident Report is a novel of “gestures,” one that invites the reader to be astonished by the circumstances its characters confront. Reports on bizarre public behaviour intertwine with reports on the private life of the novel’s narrator. Shifting constantly between harmony and dissonance, elegant in its restraint and excitingly contemporary, The Incident Report takes the pulse of our fragmented urban existence with detachment and wit, while a quiet tragedy unfolds.
Martha Baillie was born in Toronto, in 1960, and educated in a French-English bilingual school. At seventeen she left for Scotland where she studied history and modern languages (French and Russian) at the University of Edinburgh.
She completed her studies at the Sorbonne in Paris and at the University of Toronto. While at university, Baillie became involved in theatre.
She continued to act after graduation, taking scene study workshops and classes in voice and movement, while supporting herself by waitressing and teaching private French classes.
In 1981, she took an extended trip through parts of Asia including Hong Kong, China, Thailand, Burma, Nepal and India. This experience inspired her to switch her focus from acting to writing. Upon her return to Canada, she acquired an Ontario teaching certificate and briefly taught ESL to adults and French immersion to grade five students.
Today, she works part-time for the Toronto Public Library. She has done so for nearly twenty years, performing as a storyteller in schools, and day cares, organizing poetry readings, and community film screenings.
Canoeing and hiking are two of her principal passions, along with visual art, the theatre and opera.
Baillie’s first novel, My Sister Esther, was published in 1995, followed by Madame Balashovskaya’s Apartment in 1999. The later was also published in both Hungary and Germany. In 2006 her third novel, The Shape I Gave You came out with Knopf Canada, and was a national bestseller.
In The Incident Report (2009), Baillie uses the format of 144 short reports to recount incidents from her own experiences as a librarian.[3] As a work of fiction the novel contains conventional elements such as "a love story and a mystery"; as a report, it presents a subtext depicting "how Toronto libraries have become a refuge for the city's marginalized.
Martha has had poems published in journals including Descant, Prairie Fire and The Antigonish Review, and her non-fiction piece, The Legacy of Joseph Wagenbach was published by Brick magazine (Summer 2007). Baillie has been awarded grants from the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council. She lives in Toronto with her daughter and husband.
Such an affecting work of minimalism, and so hard to describe without giving away what should be experienced directly. The darkness of working in what I imagine must be a large urban library and the tentativeness of falling in love are juxtaposed in such a way that the climax, though perhaps a tiny bit predictable, hit me in the gut and had me rereading and rereading one rather short ‘incident report’ to see if I was, nevertheless, wrong about what I was reading.
It’s also an impressive-looking book, with heavy pages and endpapers that are inscribed thickly to mimic a sheet of closely written numbers found in a library-return slot. I wouldn’t mind owning the book; but of course I checked it out from my suburban library – happily, without incident.
I can't believe the hunt is over and left me with a 3-star experience. Not that this wasn't worth reading, it was. The format itself was a worthy concept, I want someone else to use it for a completely different story:
The title, Incident Report, is followed by illustrated pages of blank forms with multiple choice boxes and a space to describe the incident. Each incident is confined to 3 pages at most, and is often a single paragraph.
At first, the incidents reminded me of working at Barnes & Noble, and the unexpected civil service asked of its employees. Libraries must be worse. We see the bottom of behavior in petty ways, the resentment of having to clean up after.
But then the incidents seems to become a form of expression for our narrator, a small outlet offering a larger gaze. Everything in the narrator's life orbits around the library—she keeps herself small as she grieves the loss of her father. She even finds happiness for a time.
This story was bleak. Bleak is hard for me. Loss after happiness is excruciating.
Martha Baillie is an excellent writer, this book award-winning and unique. My hunger for spare prose has been intense lately, and in this case I may have let the pendulum stray too far in that direction.
The Hunt: I read "There Is No Blue," Martha Baillie's memoir composed of the three most important people in her life, all gone now, a tribute to the tangled dynamics of nuclear family as much as to individuals. I loved the clear writing, the depth of emotion, the lack of sentimentality, and knew I had to read her fiction. Perhaps I should have chosen something less experimental? But it was the experiment that I loved!
I found out Charlie Kaufman had read and loved this work and put money into making the film of it, called "Darkest Miriam." Then I learned that it starred Britt Lower. I love Britt Lower.
I couldn't get the manuscript anywhere but direct from Coach House in Canada, so I contacted them and ordered three of Baillie's books. I'm looking forward to reading the one that appears traditional in format, but I love when writers experiment with book as art.
My husband and I watched the film yesterday. It was faithful to the book and Britt Lower carried it fully. But the book was better.
It's strange how this truly felt like a worthwhile reading experience, not the intellectual pride of checking off a should-list, but an appreciation for the author's artistry—and everyone else involved in realizing this story with its sober, artful, hard look at life.
I can as quickly lose interest as I can fall in love, and that often happens after reading a second book by an author. But although I didn't love this reading experience, I actually found it encouraging to explore this author again.
This extraordinary little book will live in me for some time, I suspect. The apparently simple format of a Toronto librarian's short 'Incident Reports' is a brilliant device that allows Baillie to present cameo after cameo of people and behaviours outside the square, people who don't fit into or actively reject social norms and structures. Libraries are usually seen as places where system unobtrusively prevails, and people quietly adhere to the expected norms. Here, in scene after scene, we meet people who don't fit, people with mental illness of different sorts, people who abuse, threaten, or simply create mayhem, all captured in apparently dispassionate 'incident reports' written by the duty librarian, Miriam Gordon,who carries the classification 'Public Service Assistant'. As the book evolves (the pieces are too short, separate and incomplete for it to unfold as a coherent story) we see fragments of Miriam's own life with her family and her lover, Janko. Baillie's writing is deceptively simple, apparently flat, as it inhabits the format of the Incident Report. But it is full of imagery, often breath-catching. Behind incidents that are at first mildy baffling, there are increasingly threatening hints of the menace that fills Verdi's Rigoletto, never explained, never explicit, and the threatener undiscovered, not even really sought. As befits the format, the central mystery, what I saw as a main narrative is unresolved, incomplete. I'd like to know more, but accept that I won't.
Miriam works in a Toronto library, the fictitious Allan Gardens Library (though the gardens would be an excellent location for a library, and I did think that perhaps it was a slightly fictionalized Parliament Street branch). Her duties include pulling holds, ‘reading shelves’ to ensure books are in the right order, answering questions at the reference desk, running children’s activities, and consulting the Rules and Regulations whenever a patron’s behaviour may be unseemly. And, should there be any incident during her shift, she must of course fill out an Incident Report. This novel consists entirely of such incident reports, weaving an episodic tale not only of the various puzzling, sometimes disturbing, and sometimes icky activities of urban library patrons, but also of Miriam’s own childhood and present life. I enjoyed the structure and conceit - any regular user of an urban library system will recognize how it becomes a microcosm of society and refuge for those who lack a comfortable place outside its doors. There was a strong current of absurdity, disorientation, and loss, not only among the patrons but for Miriam as well.
You won't enter a Toronto public library in the same way after reading Martha Baillie's haunting new novel, set in a fictional branch in Allan Gardens.
The Incident Report consists of 144 reports, some long and detailed, others haiku-like in their suggestive minimalism. They're all filed by Miriam Gordon, a librarian in her mid-30s whose cautious and detached demeanour make her an objective report-taker. Initially, that is.
Then she meets Janko, a mysterious cab driver/artist from Slovenia, who becomes her lover. At around the same time, she begins receiving letters hidden throughout the library from a man who claims to be Rigoletto, Verdi's tragic hunchbacked jester. This unseen man - part of the book's pull comes from wondering who he is among the assortment of characters - believes Miriam is his daughter Gilda, whom he wants to save.
Bibliophiles will appreciate Baillie's evocation of library life, from bizarre Internet requests to post-masturbatory cleanup sessions. Baillie is a clear-eyed chronicler of various forms of mental illness.
She also layers the novel with images and motifs, suggesting that these reports could be taking place in the narrator's own mind. More clarity on that point might help, however. And what does Miriam love about books?
Read this in one or two sittings so its gallery of colourful characters feels as real as people you pass on the street every day.
So beautiful; ultimately so sad. This was the second book I've read by Martha Baillie and it won't be the last. Her work deserves to be better known. 4.5 stars.
"Many incidents occur in public libraries, and when one does the librarian in charge is required to fill out the necessary forms..."
The Incident Report begins with this quote along with an example of a library incident report, setting the tone for the rest of the story. The book is broken up into individual incidents, which taken together, tell the story of Miriam's life. Library incidents intertwine with incidents within her life, past and present to give a feeling of who Miriam is and how seemingly random incidents at work translate into her life.
The story is beautifully written and the format and language give it a feeling of almost being prose. The format and language also lend a stark contrast to the content of the incidents. Some are shocking and many unexpected. Miriam's past unfolds as she relives pieces in response to notes she is being left by a patron of the library. Her present unfolds around her daily tasks as if it becomes a daily task as well.
I received this book as a gift. My mother found it hysterical that the author used so many of the same ways of discussing people that we use when speaking of them to others. Working in a public library, the events meant to "shock" the average reader were more familiar and similar to my daily events. The way the author refers to patrons with nicknames such as Suitcase Man and Lavender Woman made me laugh. In many cases, you don't have names, merely descriptives and when you deal with incidents like these constantly there has to be a sense of humor and amusement about them to make it through some days.
It is a book about the library and the incidents that happen in the library so my mother will be happy that she found a book that made me laugh and relate the events to events that happen at all public libraries every day. But this story was about much more than just those events. This book can be enjoyed even if you rarely step foot into a library. I think it will be enjoyed in a much different way and also give the reader a glimpse into the world of their public librarians.
I discovered this book when meeting Baillie at our local farmer's market, which we attend each Saturday. Baillie had the only 'wares' that were in book form, and was a total quirkball delight to chat with.
Toronto's Pedlar Press is run by one woman in her house, and sheesh, does she ever create elegant books - the paper weight on this one was lovely.
Anyone who's ever worked in a public library must read this book to find solidarity and deep humor. Anyone who hasn't ever worked in a public library must read this book to learn that public librarians are actually superheros. And anyone should read this book to confirm and honor lovers Miriam and Janko's quiet worlds.
I knew from the first few pages that the author has actual metro public library experience because of how believable it was. I found her Wikipedia and confirmed she has (and maybe still) worked for Toronto Public Library.
I don’t normally read books like this (general fiction, “minimalism”, etc.) but it was quite good. The main character was odd but not in an unlikable way. Overall, it was written in an engaging way. Very short because each page or two is just a single “incident report,” so some pages are like half blank.
Anyone who currently works, wants to work, or has worked in a public library needs to read this book. Entirely made up of "incident reports," this is the story of Miriam Gordon, who works at the service desk in the Toronto Public Library. Miriam's reports chronicle her day-today encounters with customers, which encompass the hilariously inappropriate, disturbing and the poignant. From the man who sits on the floor and obsessively stacks books, to the Lavendar Woman who rants to Miriam about Americans and telephone operators, you will love all those Miriam meets.
(Reprinted from the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography [cclapcenter.com]. I am the original author of this essay, as well as the owner of CCLaP; it is not being reprinted illegally.)
This is now my second book from the exquisite small Canadian publisher Pedlar Press, after Jacob Wren's Revenge Fantasies of the Politically Dispossessed; and this is just as impressive as that one, a poetically beautiful text but with quite a dark streak as well, in this case centered around a Toronto public library that somehow almost by magic manages to attract each and every batsh-t crazy person living in that entire city. The story itself, then, is told through a series of "incident reports" that the libraries must fill out, every time a homeless man takes a whizz on a couch or a pervert gets caught looking at online porn; then as the manuscript continues, we see that it's actually starting to tell more and more of a narrative story about one of the staff members in question, the "reports" now covering not just library events but moments from her love life, as well as an ongoing mystery regarding an anonymous stalker with a violent streak who starts leaving notes around the building for her to find. As usual with Pedlar, the results are erudite without being pretentious, creepy and charming at the same time, the whole thing put out with the care for fine materials and clean design that this press is known for. It comes highly recommended, and has me now looking even more forward to my next Pedlar title, Michael Boyce's Anderson, which I'll be tackling next week.
A collection of fictitious incident reports written by a Toronto librarian, this novel is full of whimsical, uncomfortable, and downright bizarre stories at the frontlines of the library world. A career that, though many would just picture to be dealing with old, musty books (yuck), is arguably many cities’ most important social service working with their marginalized populations.
From the lonely, to the criminal, to the drunk, to the mentally unwell: a whole cast of unique characters float through the doors of this library and one is confronted with the regular trials librarians have to deal with everyday. For this alone, this book is worth the experience.
However, the larger subplots driving this story, a mysterious trail of notes left in the library and a romance with a man met in the nearby botanical gardens, were not as compelling. For many of the romance scenes, the entire exercise felt like it was attempting to be overly literary. The mystery subplot left a similar feeling, in addition to the lack of intersection with the rest of the novel. In the hands of a great genre writer, I think this template, with these stories, could have been much more compelling and better fleshed out.
All in all though, a solid read, and I will recommend this to people in the future, but with the caveats above. It just goes to show how much litfic writers stand to learn from the genre greats.
I picked this up at the library firstly because of the fine paper it is printed on (a rare delight), and secondly because of its novel concept of telling the story. The book uses 144 incident reports like the ones which Toronto Public Library workers fill out to report notable and questionable incidents at the library (like patrons who remove all the books off a shelf, or men who beckon to patrons from outside the library’s windows).
I found this format perfect for the main character Miriam’s descriptions of her experiences with these incidents, which were very funny; Baillie is an acute observer of character. However, this is not all the book is -- there are also storylines involving Miriam’s personal life and other library employees, though they did not flesh out nearly satisfactorily enough for me, and the ending was a let down.
What an odd little book. At first I was confused by the poetic language and personal tone of the security incident reports, until I figured out that the librarian is using them as a sort of private diary, recording past memories, snippets of her time with her lover, and daily interactions with colorful patrons and keeping these "incidents" in her desk. One of the library's regular members is convinced that he is the opera character Rigoletto and that the librarian is his long lost daughter, whom he must protect from other (wacky) patrons. I can't decide if the understated and unresolved tragedy at the end diminishes the work for me or makes it better art. Strange but fascinating all the way through. Three and a half stars.
(And the author's biopic! Is she a stagecoach robber? What is going on there?)
This book started out a little quirky, a little poetic. Quiet, kinda charming, a little edge to it. There's a sexy little love story and a creepy little mystery. Then the love story ends in random violence and the creepy mystery never gets resolved.
When I finished the book, I turned to the back to check out the author. The look on Martha Baillie's face in her author photo really tells you what kind of book The Incident Report is going to be. If only I had looked there first. So my advice to you is to check out the author photo before you read the book.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Jakob Vala (Graphic Designer): Martha Baillie’s novel The Incident Report is structured as brief reports written by Miriam, a librarian in Toronto. The plot involves romance and mystery, but so far the most compelling bits are Miriam’s descriptions of the library’s odd patrons, which remind me (for better or worse) of my twelve years as a clerk in a small-town bookstore. [Editor's Note: Matha Baillie's upcoming novel The Search for Heinrich Schlogel will be published by Tin House in September, 2014, alongside an ebook of The Incident Report.]
5/14/2013:
Meg Storey (Editor, Tin House Books): I read Martha Baillie’s The Incident Report in two sittings. Told in one-to-three-page chapters, Baillie’s novel is the best kind of quick read: a quick shot to the heart. Miriam, the librarian-narrator, reports her interactions with the regular (and often slightly disturbed and nutty) library patrons alongside her own story of grief over her father’s death and her slow willingness to fall in love with a man she meets on a park bench. She also keeps finding notes tucked in various places throughout the library; the notes are written by someone who believes he is Rigoletto, from Verdi’s opera, and that Miriam is his daughter, whom he must protect. Despite its seemingly straightforward approach and distant narrator, The Incident Report is a nuanced chronicle of grief, love, and the tensions between our private and public selves.
What constitutes a novel? Well, Martha Baillie has constructed something that shatters that traditional notion. The Incident Report reads like a series of diary entries by a peculiar librarian. Four plus years ago, a favorable review of this book appeared in an alternative Toronto weekly – Now magazine – and piqued my curiosity. Shortly thereafter, I searched the library database with no luck. The title hadn’t been purchased yet, so I settled for Baillie’s previous novel The Shape I Gave You. I appreciated Shape and somehow The Incident Report slipped from my mind as I moved forward in my pursuit of other books.
Like any big city, Toronto is a collision of different cultures and ideologies. The people who frequent the branch where Miriam is employed as a librarian represent this eclectic mix. Strange is the word that comes to mind when I think of the feel of this book. But luckily for me, I like strange, within reason. The literary rules have been discarded in place of an anything goes approach; random details about the lives of the library’s staff and its patrons, and a refusal to commit to uniformity. The style of writing also embodies an experimental feel - “Janko bent over me, and he ate until no more of me remained. All that remained of me was warmth.” Not your typical description of a sexual act.
It would not do to go into too much detail, as much of the joy of The Incident Report comes from placing the pieces together, getting a picture of Miriam's fragility and strength only through glimpses into her reactions. The rest of the novel's delight lies in Baillie's precise construction of sentences, her wordplay and imagery delicately balancing Miriam's wistful view of the world with its harsher realities. Phrases such as "I lowered my eyes to the computer screen and read, but the words had become hollow gourds, little seeds of shrivelled meaning rattling inside them," eloquently capture the fragility of Miriam as she clings to rules and certainty over the increasingly chaotic world about her.
1. pedlar press 2. a novel made of library incident reports 3. 5 star cclap review you tell me what's not to like? clever, affecting novel of a women taking the chance to reach out to other people, specifically taking a lover after many years a solitary. Intertwined with her story are incident reports she has made at her job as a librarian, reports of all the crazy, nice, vile, and ridiculous people who use public libraries. The ultimate question i see author is asking is if we reach out to other humans, but then are shunned, stunned, repudiated for no reason, or repulsed by others' grossness, can we as "normals" ever find hapiness? no :( thanks!! to CCLAP for PEDLAR press recommendations. i will follow.
Most of this book is poetry masquerading as prose. No matter, it's utterly unique, whatever you name it. Baillie recounts a host of bizarre "incidents" at the library where she works, involving a number of very strange "patrons" many of them clearly nuts, others just lost souls. Some are hilarious, some simply droll while others are sad and pitiful. Meanwhile Miriam, the narrator lets us into her developing relationship with Janko, an immigrant who, unable to make a living from his talent as an artist, drives a taxi. Baillie's prose is often breathtakingly poignant; her flat observations of events without any commentary are starkly compelling. And her evocation of the process of grieving (Incident Report 131) is surely the most heart-wrenching of any that I've encountered.
Emotion wells up quickly from the supposedly dry and clinical reports of day-to-day occurrences at a downtown Toronto library. Written by a frustrated and depressed but conscientious young woman, the ostensible reports trace both fond and troubled memories from her childhood, and bring her to the awakening and possibilities of happiness in her present life. Longlisted for the 2009 Giller Prize, Baillie's novel is populated by fleeting but poignant portraits of people finding solace and sanctuary in books and libraries. The book weaves humour, sadness, longing, romance, suspense, menace and more in a compact and compelling form.
This was a very clever book, probably 3.5 stars but I decided to be generous and round it up. The author uses a gimmick to tell the story but she does it in such a way that the gimmick does not overshadow the narrative. The narrator works in a public library in Toronto and tells the story through a series of "incident reports" that reflect the day-to-day weirdness of working in this environment. She also uses these "reports" to tell the story of her love affair which she obviously would not include in her library reports but somehow it works. The whole book has a lot of charm and I enjoyed reading it.
A wonderful little book with poem like episodes/ incidents that happen in a Toronto library. With just a few words- she captured a life of each person. It's a book that does not aim to preach or educate, just observe. Sometimes funny sometimes sad.
I did enjoy this - the format, while not what I expected, I guess works for what it wants to give you. That something is intriguing but again I feel I have the same criticisms for the novel that I had for the film adaptation. I think if maybe it was a bit longer Miriam might begin to feel more alive to me, although the novel does a better job of this than the film, mostly due to the medium in which it’s being presented to you. I also just feel this needed a grander resolution to the Rigoletto situation. Then again, even with the criticisms I have I’m like, this isn’t what this book wanted to be. Not sure what I’m trying to say here but bare with - the film doesn’t get let off the hook here for me, because upon watching it you have a feel for what it’s trying, and sadly failing, to be. But while reading the book, idk, I just could feel the energy of it more, like I know the author knows so much but just didn’t want to commit it to the page, too fully committed to this incident report style. Miriam exists somewhere within these pages but is never quite fully formed, intentionally, for better or worse. Idk what I’m tryna say. Again I wish Miriam and Janko had a lovely happy ending. An easy read, enjoyed the gimmick somewhat, but wish it was better. And that the incident reports were filled out for real, photocopies and all 😔
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
This wasn't what I expected. I'd read reviews saying it was the (fictional) record book of a librarian writing up reports on various incidents taking place in the library, but the tone and the direction the story took were quite a surprise. Because the main character is a female librarian I was thinking it might have a "Miss Read" or "Anne of Green Gables" feel to it. Wrong. It started out with a couple of funny incidents but the stories get much more serious as it continues. This is an edgy librarian - two words not often used together, I suspect. Many of the incident reports are about her personal life, though the book was supposed to chronicle events happening in the library. Toward the end it gets much more intense than anything I expected. I wasn't disappointed with it, just a bit disconcerted because it was so far off what I was expecting. I think I liked it. I know I'll remember it.
An experiment that sometimes succeeds, each page or two a new incident report from Miriam, a mid-30s librarian listing the off weird patrons or coworker interactions. In between we get a sweet love story as Miriam falls in love with Janko, a patient Slovenian former artist now taxi driver.
The characters are vivid and frequently funny and scary at the same time. The language can try too hard at poetry, creating images that instead of being profound are just confusing. Scenes with Janko often feel too dreamlike and surreal. Characters speak in prophecy.
Other coworkers will just volunteer intimate childhood stories solely for the purpose of character-building. There is a messiness in trying to add things that the format doesn't support. But then the daily interactions, the library as a resource and community hub, are expertly drawn and physical.
It's a quick, decent read that I enjoyed despite its overstretching.
I fully read this because I'm gonna watch the movie adaptation tomorrow and I thought the format of the book solely as incident reports was quite interesting so I wanted to see what that was like, and now I'm even more excited for the movie because both will have their pros and cons, the fact it's just incident reports creates such a peculiar atmosphere and everything is so sudden (reports 128 to 129 got me sitting back up SO fast), and on the other end the fact that it will be smoother in the movie got me really curious because that means some things will make the cut and others won't, how will it be organised etc and ALSO they're... incident reports, so it's all so straight to the point, there's absolutely nothing about the characters' physicality especially miriam considering she's the one writing those, and I'm SO excited to see how britt sees and understands her because everything that will be on screen will come from her
Miriam, a thirty-something librarian in a dodgy part of Toronto, compiles reports on her life and the activities of the library’s patrons, who are a seedy group of alcoholics, perverts, madmen and thugs. One of the patrons is leaving her long letters in the children’s section and believes she is the daughter from the Verdi opera Rigoletto. She never sees who is leaving her these creepy notes. She is lucky enough to connect with Janko, a taxi driver, whom she finds reading in the park. They begin an affair and it keeps her from going crazy at her challenging job. A quick, well-written, and thought-provoking book that is more than the sum of its short parts.