An intimate and uplifting book about finding renewal and hope through grief and loss.
“It was a terrible life; it was an enchanted life; it was a blessed life. And, of course, one day it ended.” — Sharon Butala
In the tradition of Joan Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking , Diana Athill’s Somewhere Towards the End, and Atul Gawande’s Being Mortal comes a revelatory new book from one of our beloved writers.
When Sharon Butala’s husband, Peter, died unexpectedly, she found herself with no place to call home. Torn by grief and loss, she fled the ranchlands of southwest Saskatchewan and moved to the city, leaving almost everything behind. A lifetime of possessions was reduced to a few boxes of books, clothes, and keepsakes. But a lifetime of experience went with her, and a limitless well of memory—of personal failures, of a marriage that everybody said would not last but did, of the unbreakable bonds of family.
Reinventing herself in an urban landscape was painful, and facing her new life as a widow tested her very being. Yet out of this hard-won new existence comes an astonishingly frank, compassionate and moving memoir that offers not only solace and hope but inspiration to those who endure profound loss.
Often called one of this country’s true visionaries, Sharon Butala shares her insights into the grieving process and reveals the small triumphs and funny moments that kept her going. Where I Live Now is profound in its understanding of the many homes women must build for themselves in a lifetime.
Sharon Butala (born Sharon Annette LeBlanc, August 24, 1940 in Nipawin, Saskatchewan) is a Canadian writer and novelist.
Her first book, Country of the Heart, was published in 1984 and won the Books in Canada First Novel Award.
As head of the Eastend Arts Council she spearheaded the creation of the Wallace Stegner House Residence for Artists in which Wallace Stegner's childhood home was turned into a retreat for writers and artists.[14]
She lived in Eastend until Peter's death in 2007. She now lives in Calgary, Alberta.
She was shortlisted for the Governor General's award twice, once for fiction for Queen of the Headaches, and once for nonfiction for The Perfection of the Morning.
The Fall 2012 issue of Prairie Fire, entitled The Visionary Art of Sharon Butala was dedicated to Butala and her work and influence.
When I moved to rural British Columbia, a friend gave me a copy of Butala's The Perfection of the Morning. The experience of a woman displaced from the urban, professional life where she was comfortable in her skin moved me to the core. I was heading for my first experience of rural living, ill-equipped for what I would find there.
Rural life never fit like a comfortable shoe, but I came to love the people and landscape and the Big Lessons of a life so different from anything I had known. Sharon Butala became something of a distant mentor to me in my new life. I had a chance to meet her when she came to my nearby town for a writers' workshop. Over lunch with her and a talented local writer, the three of us found we had much in common in our experience as rural writers.
I am no longer in rural B.C. so was keen to read what choices Butala had made after the death of her beloved husband. I anticipated her choice to return to an urban setting, but the book was so much more than a record of her path back to a kind of life she had set aside decades earlier. Butala is both lyrical and matter of fact in her exploration of the life and landscape of her years as a ranch wife and writer. Her grief made me ache, as what she had with Peter is forever lost. But her poetic writing and the clarity of her vision, coupled with her love of the natural world in which she spent so many years, made the book a joy to read.
Although the book can be enjoyed without first reading The Perfection of the Morning, it offers a richer experience to those acquainted with the earlier book. Sharon Butala has added richness to the Canadian literary landscape. This book is a good example of why she is an important figure among our writers.
Sharon Butala's Where I live now is categorized under biography/autobiography but that appears to me too narrow a description. It is not only "a journey through love and loss to healing and hope" as the subtitle states, it is a profound meditation on life, love and the natural world which surrounded her and her husband of more than thirty years. Sharon Butala writes with honesty and tenderness and invites the reader into her private world while sharing many insights gained over the years that go far beyond the personal and specific.
Back in 1995 I was completely captivated by Sharon Butala's The Perfection of the Morning . It opened a new world for me as a newcomer to Canada, a world of natural beauty steeped in history that I knew nothing about. It led me to follow her nonfiction and fiction writing very closely over the many years since. You don't have to start with the earlier books to enjoy reading this reflection and journey - she refers to pertinent events and moments in time - but you might feel motivated to read the earlier books also.
I won an ARC of this book in a Goodreads first-reads giveaway. I love reading Canadian authors, so I was so excited to be able to get an advance reader's copy. And from an author whose other novels I have enjoyed! In this memoir, Sharon Butala walks through her memories of her drastic life change in her 30's, choosing a new life with husband Peter, which took her from city life to a remote, somewhat secluded small community in southwest Saskatchewan, where he ran his family cattle and hay ranch. Her 33 years there, among nature and the land, shaped her as a person, and as an author. Following Peter's death, she grapples with grief, loss and beginning the next stage of her life away from the land that has been her home for so long. "I believe that once you find yourself -your real self - still there inside, and you begin to see yourself as alive, and indeed, as worthy of a life, a real life, that drabness will slowly disa[[erar as the spirit flares up again. Grief has it's own timetable." pg 147 Thanks to Goodreads, Simon & Shuster Canada, and Ms Butala for the opportunity to read this ARC.
I loved this book. Although it's theme is that of the author's experience of the loss of her husband and how she endures and by necessity drastically changes her lifestyle, this is more a beautiful memoir of a wonderful marriage and their lives as farmers in Saskatchewan. Sharon Butala's writing comes over like a conversation with an old friend. Thought-provoking, beautifully written, amazing descriptions, interesting facts and much more all made this a real gem.
I am always interested in reading for a sort of roadmap of terrain I may encounter in the future. Most women outlive their husbands, as did Sharon Butala. In this memoir she details the life they had built together around his ranching way of life, and her work to grapple with what would be next for her. A slow, quiet telling of a way of life so different from mine, and the author's sad work of disassembling that life to create a new one.
What a lovely book - her story from the death of her husband to now, but with lots of diving back into her time with him, is a beautiful combination of poetry and lyrics. Great book, if I do say so.
This book nicely bookends Butala's acclaimed The Perfection of the Morning in which she tells the story of how a girl born and raised in northern Saskatchewan but educated and employed as an academic comes to live on a large ranch in the southwest of the province. She learns to love and appreciate the flora and fauna of the area as well as the land itself when relocating following her marriage. Where I Live Now deals with her leaving the area she has learned to love after thirty-three years and the death of her husband. Butala's style is a bit wordy and dense. Her paragraphs seem long and I find myself skimming to get to the bits that resonate with me. I found it very interesting that Butala's husband inherited the ranch from his father, an immigrant from Slovakia, that most of the land has been never broken and that she and her husband, lacking joint heirs, left the huge range to the Nature Conservancy of Canada which would have shocked an appalled many of the ranchers in that area. What I really liked about this book, however, was the Epilogue, in fact I photocopied it for future reference. In it Butala succinctly and beautifully describes the years following the initial grief upon losing a loved one and discusses how loss seems to accumulate in our lives as we age which is something I can relate to so well. Recommended for fans of Perfection of the Morning and Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking.
A beautiful evocation of a life, a love and a place... on a marriage, on making a new life for oneself while growing old, and finding ones true self in nature. It reads like Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking meets Candace Savage's The Geography of Blood. Strikes a deep chord with the prairie girl in me, even though I never lived on the farm, it runs deep in the blood. When she speaks of the British inheritance system - that sees the women especially lose their ties to the land - that's my family story. Homesteading in 1862 in southern Manitoba, the farm is still in the family, but my grandparents were not the ones in line to stay on the land. A little too close to home in other places as well, as in where she discusses coyote attacks (p99), in particular referencing an attack in Nova Scotia. That attack resulted in the death of Toronto folk singer Taylor Mitchell, who had been a student of mine. And just this week I catalogued both David Atwell's book on JM Coetzee and Paul Auster's (Booker Longlisted) 4,3,2,1 (ref p109).
Why am I reading books written by widows about their husbands, their husband's deaths and how they manage to go on (or not)? I sure hope it isn't portending something horrible...
Anywhoo, this is a great piece of Canadiana, a look into the unsettled life of prairie settlers, and, eventually, what happens when the author loses hey husband and the land. Spoiler: she acknowledges the important connection to nature for survival, and moves to the city anyway.
A little sentimental but no tear jerker, it's an enlightening look at life, spirit, loss, connection and continuance within a uniquely Canadian story.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
There are stories within Sharon’s stories that are my stories and maybe your stories, too. Because this is what happens when one woman speaks the truth of her life — the world breaks open.
The world of light and love and knowing and connection and deeper understanding.
Back in 1985, I was driving through the Cypress Hills-Fort Walsh area with my parents. I was a “new” widow and taking refuge in Mom and Dad’s company. And much like Sharon writes about, one of the deep pleasures of prairie life are the long drives in the landscape. And that’s what my Dad felt his daughter needed on that day. (Thank you, Dad!) Along this particular journey, we came upon Sharon and Peter. My parents knew Peter and I knew Sharon because I’d read her work. So, on that day, these four adults, through our Sunday afternoon conversation, became a portal for me to travel into my own soul. I was so excited to meet Sharon! And probably because of my youthful enthusiasm, she generously invited me to visit her and Peter.
Fast forward a couple of weeks, and my beloved friend Cathie accompanied me to visit that wide expanse of land that Sharon writes about south of Eastend. I remember how excited I was to see Sharon’s writing space in their home. Here was a prairie woman living the prairie life AND being her writerly self. I’d never seen such a thing. At that point, I had no idea who Sharon was or where she’d come from. I only knew her through the stories she’d written and who she appeared to be next to Peter in their shared life. Seeing her that day in the lifestyle she’d chosen, changed what was possible in my life forever.
You see, I had a sense that there was a book in me wanting to be written. And I had no clue who I needed to be to write it. Sharon reflected back to me what I needed to see about myself.
Our intended short visit turned into an all day affair. Peter cooked us pasta. Sharon set the table. A bottle of wine was opened. It was a delicious crossroads in my life.
Reading 'Where I Live Now' has filled in some missing pieces for me. And has me appreciating even more how life instructs us through the connections we form with others. Neither Sharon or I knew then that she’d one day be widow and our stories would be intertwined in yet another way. The grace of her storytelling emanates from her willingness to go deep within herself. And she has the hard-earned wisdom that allows her to show us, through the subtle art of story, that when we know the nature of nature, we will know the nature of ourselves.
It’s a book whose time has come. I know she doesn’t intend this, but make no mistake, Sharon Butala is a Master Teacher. And dare I say, Peter continues to teach THROUGH her. I felt his presence in every word I read. What a delight!
I love these two people, more than they will ever know, for helping to light my path not only as Writer-Storyteller, but as Human Woman coming to realize who she is and what she is called to do through the Nature of Her Nature.
Read this story. It is a prayerful testament to All That Is. It’ll work magic in your own soul.
A fitting though less exquisite complement to Perfection of the Morning, here we learn the context bracketing Butala’s life of discovery in the prairie, particularly the human element. Peter becomes more real, as does their relationship and, in fact, Butala herself. If Perfection was about our human connection with nature, Where I Live Now is about our connections with other humans and with our own selves. In particular this means loss and awareness of change; Butala demonstrates grace in how she balances the impossible opposing forces of grief and acceptance.
After Perfection, this one was a bit of a letdown: it felt disjointed, like a collection of loose vignettes in uncertain order, and her language felt strained. Like she was trying too hard. I found myself often blanking out and realizing I’d skipped an entire paragraph. Her revelations are less frequent and, with one glorious exception near the end, less powerful. Perhaps I should’ve allowed more time between her books.
Where I Live Now is a deeply rewarding book that explores the way in which our environment, our landscape, both confines and enlarges our humanity. But that's already too narrow--Sharon Butala writes movingly of a landscape still largely populated by coyotes, owls, wolves, cattle. I loved her description of cows in the herd on the Butala ranch waiting "patiently at the northeast gate" for the annual move, at the approach of the harsh Saskatchewan winter, to the shelter of the valley on the hay farm. When Butala married and moved to her husband's ranch, she felt compelled to experience the land intimately, and alone. Her writing is elegiac and beautiful and full of joy as well as sorrow. The reader is present as she unflinchingly recounts her husband, Peter's, last days, and I had to close the book and give myself time to recover. But of course I returned to this fascinating picture of a life that moves a little like the wind in the prairie grass from town to country and back again. "I became a rancher's wife, I became a writer, I lived a life in nature," Butala writes, and it meant a great deal to me, as I read, to share something of this life.
Wonderful book from a humble and renowned Canadian prairie author! When I picked it up, just intending to read a few pages before starting the other library book I had picked up yesterday, I read a quarter of the book before I could put it down.
I have read some of her previous non-fiction and fiction, including "The Perfection of the Morning", and found them all moving. I have visited the Cypress Hills AB and Sask areas and south of Maple Creek, the landscape and history about which she writes, as well as having lived and worked in southern Saskatchewan for a number of years in the 70's and 80's, so some of it I can relate to in a semblance of lived experience. Her personal and intimate journeys are her own, and only possibly fathomable in what she shares within the limits of the written word.
I returned to the book this morning and finished reading it for the first time in one sitting, although I had read the epilogue and acknowledgements once before during my first reading. Once again, I was held to read and reflect as I read over a period of several hours. This is a book to re-read, for the wisdom gained from her life which the author shares, after spending some time absorbing it and being sparked into reflecting and pondering on my own life and journeys.
The entire wrap around cover photo is one taken of the ranch yard after she left, at late summer evening/night against the vast prairie sky of stars with some aurora borealis. Butala mentions it the book, and it would be wonderful to see the original.
SK author Sharon Butala's memoir, Where I Live Now is a reflection on her second marriage and life on the land in southwest Saskatchewan. I enjoyed her descriptions of the land and the weather, but she fell short of describing her struggles with isolation, a marriage to a farmer who was emotionally distant, and her decision to leave her young son. For the most part the reader gets a romanticized version of those 30+ years. My favourite part was her description of driving on wet gumbo. It's worth reading but could be much shorter. That said, Sharon & Peter left the province of Saskatchewan a gorgeous piece of land ... read about The Old Man on His Back Prairie and Heritage Conservation Area (OMB) to learn more https://www.natureconservancy.ca/en/w...
When Sharon Butala’s husband, Peter, died unexpectedly, she found herself with no place to call home. Torn by grief and loss, she fled the ranchlands of southwest Saskatchewan and moved to the city, leaving almost everything behind. A lifetime of possessions was reduced to a few boxes of books, clothes, and keepsakes. But a lifetime of experience went with her, and a limitless well of memory—of personal failures, of a marriage that everybody said would not last but did, of the unbreakable bonds of family.
Reinventing herself in an urban landscape was painful, and facing her new life as a widow tested her very being. Yet out of this hard-won new existence comes an astonishingly frank, compassionate and moving memoir that offers not only solace and hope but inspiration to those who endure profound loss.
Often called one of this country’s true visionaries, Sharon Butala shares her insights into the grieving process and reveals the small triumphs and funny moments that kept her going. Where I Live Now is profound in its understanding of the many homes women must build for themselves in a lifetime.
I enjoyed reading Butala’s descriptions of how she found a connection to nature during her time on the ranch. I think I expected this book to be more about the relationship between the author and her late husband, but by the end of the book it became clear how very private she is, as was her husband. I think this book is a lovely testament to their relationship, but I would’ve liked to have read more about that rather than her self-discovery over her decades on the ranch. Having said that, her description of rural prairie life is so accurate and emotive for me that I’d like to read more of her work.
There’s something unique about southwestern Saskatchewan, and it’s not just the landscape, but the writers who’ve loved and written books about it, from Wallace Stegner’s ‘Wolf Willow’ and Candace Savage’s ‘A Geography of Blood’ to Sharon Butala 1994 memoir ‘Perfection of the Morning.’ In this new memoir Butala writes of what it means to lose both that land and her husband of 31 years, the rancher who originally introduced her to the area. She draws us back into the story of how an urban academic came to gradually form a close spiritual connection to this place - and then many years later, alone, find herself back in a big city. There is much tenderness and wisdom in this book.
Not a review, but an appreciation for the way the author described Calgary, prior to her moving here. "But for years I'd heard nothing good about it: the dense traffic and belligerent drivers, the intense competitiveness and excessive youthfulness, the super-rightwing tendencies, the way it was Americanized (through oil), the opposite of Eastend, in other words." I think her concerns about living here would be my own. But, Calgary is my home :) I'd like her to know, there are people here that don't drive, appreciate mature attitudes, are definitely leftwingers, and support clean energy over old school oil :)
A little book about mostly nothing, and yet, about the things that are most essential to life: who we are, where we live, how we engage with the world around us, us in nature, us in community, marriage, grief, death, motherhood, divorce, step-parenting, loneliness, isolation, solitude, writing, creative expression... and so on.
Reminds me of so many things -- among them, working in the Cypress Hills, reading Cider with Rosie and Out of Africa, and the moment the penny dropped for me at Fort Walsh, when I finally understood what it meant that the bison were gone from the prairies. A lovely, living, and moving book, not sentimental but deeply compassionate. Thank you, Sharon Butala.
I had the opportunity in high school to visit the Hay Farm and meet Sharon Butala with my English class. We walked on the land and I can so vividly remember this trip through her description of walking the hills. This book about grief over losing her husband and the life and land they built was beautifully written.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
This is a luminous book of love and loss and repurposing. Sharon Butala writes very honestly about her life with her rancher husband on the land they both loved. When her husband dies, Sharon moves away but grieves both her husband and the land. Ultimately, Sharon explores how a woman can find a new place for herself as a person who is aging.
I have loved Sharon Butala's writing for a very long time,especially The Perfection of the Morning.This book will introduce you to her and her life with Peter and Nature if you have not read her work before. I found her perspective on grief and aging beautiful.
Would recommend for middleaged, experienced adults who are bound to have similar experiences...this book is helpful indeed! I have already offered it to my senior friends!
This book speaks to me…and my soul. As Sharon herself writes, this book is about loss and grief. It is also about the therapy and healing offered by nature, and the joys of solitude if we persist in feeling them. Oftentimes only fully seen in hindsight.
It started out slow and very ho hum....and when it gripped my attention I was caught wholly...a story that could resonate with many...loved it.. Thanks Bonnie for the recommendation!