The Go-Between

The Go-Between / Jennifer Maruno
Leaside, ON: Red Deer Press, c2024.
184 p.

This middle grade novel, set in British Columbia in 1926, tackles racism, history, and family connections equally well. Sumi is the younger daughter of a Japanese family in Vancouver. She's curious, energetic and wants to be a journalist. Her older sister Yoshi wants to study dressmaking but has also just been asked to take on a summer job as a housemaid in remote Gibson's Landing.

Sumi offers to take the job so that Yoshi is free to study. It's not at all what she expected - she sleeps in a shed in the yard, and has to work hard all day long. But it's not all bad.

She finds a friend in the son of a local Japanese farming family, which helps manage her homesickness. Her personality is strong enough that she is able to withstand difficult moments, and to speak up when she feels she has to. She is helpful to the sickly mistress of the household, and earns respect for her work ethic eventually, even from the crabby housekeeper.

There are moments of crisis and drama -- a hurricane, a strike at the local cannery that she's secretly involved with, accusations of theft -- but as a middle grade novel nothing feels too dangerous, and Sumi comes through safe and sound. The issues of racism and classism were brought up naturally, in a way that younger readers can understand and feel.  

The writing is clear and the setting is vibrantly evoked. Sumi makes a great heroine, as she’s clever and determined. Her relationship with her family was a delight also, showing the strong ties that kept her going through this eventful summer. Based on the true story of Eiko Kitagawa Maruno, the author's mother-in-law, this book reveals an important part of Canadian history, in a very readable way.

The Memory Collectors

The Memory Collectors / Kim Neville
NY: Atria, c2021.
400 p.

This was an unexpected find for me, a book I picked up from the New Books shelf at the library because of the cover and the back blurb. I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was also Canadian, set in B.C.! 

It's a great read, full of plot and imagination. Evelyn is a young woman who makes a living dumpster diving and selling items in Vancouver's Chinatown Night Market. She holds herself back from the world because she feels "stains" on physical objects -- the memories and emotions attached to items. And these emotions are not always pleasing. She's had experience in her past, through a terrible family tragedy, of the way these dark stains can seep into a sensitive life and destroy it. 

On the other side of town, Harriet is a old woman who also feels these sensations from objects. However, rather than avoiding objects she has become a hoarder, trying to find everything she can that holds any emotion at all. This is affecting her life, since she is about to be evicted because of the mess that overflows her apartment and disturbs the neighbours in the regular way, as well as with a wash of emotions they don't recognize but feel anyhow. 

Harriet has a secret, though -- she's very rich, and since she's being kicked out of her apartment she decides to buy an old bank building to live in, and in which to create her lifelong dream: a museum of objects imbued with positive emotion, to provide uplift to viewers. 

When she comes across Ev and her friend Owen scavenging some of her boxes in the alley where her neighbours have dumped them, their lives collide and change everything for both of them. 

With some great side characters -- Owen, Ev's self-centred sister Noemi, and a potential love interest for Ev as well, there is a lot going on, but it all fits beautifully. Ev and Noemi's family history is horrific and there's a bit too much detail there for me in parts, but it explains both of their reactions to life. 

The relationships are well drawn and believable, and there's a lot of backstory that isn't obvious in beginning. There's a slow reveal of both people's characters and their past and what has shaped them. There's also a growing explanation of the unusual talent that both Ev and Harriet hold, and both the pros and cons of such a skill. I really liked the fact that the story has internal cohesion -- the structure of this talent and its effects make sense and are consistent within the story, and the relationships ring true. 

The narrative is a mix of family dynamics, a coming of age story for Ev, and a sprinkling of magical ability. This allows the author to explore some deep issues more metaphorically (what are objects for? where do we locate our emotional memory? what's worth holding on to? and more). It's also a look at consumerism and overconsumption. Here's a quote that highlights that: 

Retail stores disturb her, rows and rows of empty objects. Products with no soul, no energy, people buying and discarding them before they have the chance to take on any kind of life, the world growing more cluttered and at the same time more barren every day.

I was drawn in to this story quickly and engaged with the concept and the characters immediately. The plot and characters really depended on one another, and the Vancouver setting was an unexpected benefit. I really feel that there was a profound meaning at the core of this novel, one that gives it a heart and makes it memorable. It will make you look at your belongings, and the way your emotional energy shows up in the world, in a new way.

Return of the Trickster

 

Return of the Trickster / Eden Robinson
Toronto: Penguin Random House, c2021.
320 p.

Finally, the last book in the Trickster trilogy is out! I've been waiting for this one -- I loved book one, Son of a Trickster, and book two, Trickster Drift. And of course, in between we got the tv version of the story (which I thought was pretty good but diverged quite a lot from the books, which I still prefer).

This one concludes this story of Jared, the rather mellow teenager at the heart of the series. He's really the Son of a Trickster, and as we find out here, a trickster himself, however unwillingly. 

This volume is a bit more violent and gory than the first two, with lots more action happening. Jared is still surrounded by family and by ghosts and supernatural creatures of all kinds -- he even meets a Sasquatch in this one (who's actually a pretty chill dude). It's a bit of a strange setup, since Wade (his trickster father) is basically imprisoned and unable to help throughout the book, and his mother loses some of her invincibility as well. But Jared has to force himself to step up and basically save his entire family. 

There are some gross bits in this one that I had to skim over, much more than the first two books. But there is still the sense of humour and unexpected appearances of oddball characters who help (or hinder). It's a satisfying conclusion in most ways; we get to know Jared's full nature, and so does he. And his family does prevail over their attackers, who are dark and dangerous. But I didn't feel the same spark as the first book, the bright energy of Jared's new discoveries. Still, a great finish to this series. I'd still recommend reading this set to anyone who loves contemporary Indigenous fiction, and who has a sense of black humour. Fans of Dean Koontz's Odd Thomas will also find the feel of this series familiar - if you can take supernatural violence and lots of cussing, this one's for you. 

Trickster Drift

Trickster Drift / Eden Robinson
Toronto: Knopf, c2018.
384 p.

Now for another fantastic seasonal read! I just finished this book, volume two of the Trickster trilogy, over the weekend.

It follows Jared, the main character from book one, as he gets sober and leaves his hometown of Kitimat to attend college in Vancouver. Due to many circumstances, he finds himself living with his Aunt Mave, a woman his mother hasn't spoken to in years. But to keep him safe, she connects up with her sister, a writer and Indigenous activist who welcomes him whole-heartedly but is blind to the particular dangers Jared faces - most of which are supernatural.

Things get really weird for Jared. He's being stalked by his mother's ex, David, who always seems to know where he is. He's struggling with his physics homework, at least until he finds an unexpected tutor hanging around the house. And he's finding a lot of new relatives who he didn't know previously. Oh, and his bedroom seems to be an interdimensional vortex.

This book is dark, violent in parts, and full of swearing -- and also replete with familial love and caring relationships, hilarity, and some of the best ghosts I've seen in fiction in a long time. Creatures based in Indigenous culture mix with pop culture to create spookiness at a Stephen King level, that is, if Stephen King could also be as hilarious as Eden Robinson.

Jared is a solid character, trying to do his best for everyone. In his sanguine approach to life and his otherwordly talents, combined with his mad cooking skills, he reminds me slightly of Odd Thomas from the Dean Koontz series. But of course Jared is not so solitary - he has a huge extended family of warm, caring and sometimes nosy cousins and aunties. And he has help with his supernatural adventures, at least if he wants it -- since his mother is a witch and his father is Trickster. And is Jared also a trickster? It's only when his troubles with David hit crisis point that he finds out. 

I loved reading this; the characters are all wonderful and individual, there is heartbreak alongside humour, and the creativity of her plot is mind-blowing. I can not wait until part three comes out; what is going to happen with Jared?? I want to know! 

Interested in book one? Check out my thoughts here

Starlight

Starlight / Richard Wagamese
Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, c2018.
239 p.

This was a fraught read: it's the last, and unfinished, novel by Richard Wagamese. I didn't want to finish it, knowing that. But, of course, I did. I was glad to have the chance to read this last work, but unfortunately it wasn't as strong as I'd hoped. 

It's a story featuring Franklin Starlight, the protagonist of Medicine Walk, which I think is probably my favourite Wagamese novel.

Franklin is now middle-aged, still living on the isolated BC farm he was raised on, and settled into a bachelor life with his friend and employee Roth. 

The other strand of this story involves Emmy and her young daughter Winnie. Emmy is in a seriously abusive relationship, and one day decides to flee. She takes her daughter and steals her partner's truck, heading west as far as she can get. But she can't shake everything; her awful ex and his partner in crime spend the next year tracking her down through city streets and squalor.

She ends up in a tiny town near Franklin's farm, squatting in an abandoned house; but through a series of incidents, ends up being taken in by him as a housekeeper of sorts. It's this relationship that is the heart of the book -- they begin to change each other as Franklin becomes a little more sociable, and Emmy begins to trust the world again as he teaches her lessons from the land. 

It's a story that has more in common with Wagamese's earlier books such as Dream Wheels that with Franklin's early story in Medicine Walk, at least I think so. The tone is even, with the relationship between Franklin and Emmy fairly low-key romantic. Franklin's approach to the land is highly individual and mystical, and sometimes also a bit too much for me -- besides farming, he is also a wildlife photographer, and the descriptions of how he gets his intimate photos were a bit purpley for my tastes. The spark of light humour comes from Roth, but even that is a little old-fashioned in some ways. 

In any case, just as the drama in the story is coming to a head, there is no more book. It ends there. But one thing I was glad for was that the publisher did not try to find someone else to write it based on Wagamese's notes. Instead, they describe what he was thinking and how he intended to end it, alongside some earlier writing that indicates the direction of this book. And they include some other relevant writing that he was doing before he passed away. 

It was a fitting way to close the book. And to convince anyone who hasn't read all of his works so far to go back and pick up those missing titles. It's definitely and unmistakably a Wagamese read. 

A Season Among Psychics

A Season Among Psychics / Elizabeth Greene
Toronto: Inanna, c2018.
304 p.

This was a bit of an odd read -- it's a serious and in-depth look at the "Results System" created by Margaret Kean (an energetic healing process) through the main character Judith's presence in a study group, but also a wry story of Judith's life as a professor, skeptic and mother.

Judith is 50, a professor of English, and the mother of an autistic son. She's also a bit at loose ends in her life, feeling adrift and missing Brian, a writing instructor she feels she has a telepathic connection with.

She and a friend decide to go to a local psychic fair as the book opens, and there Judith meets Rosetta Kempffer, someone she knows slightly. Rosetta is now a working healing practitioner, and draws Judith in to her small, individualized class on personal healing. Her very expensive class.

Judith is simultaneously cynical and naive. She comments on the class like a skeptic, but also believes it wholeheartedly. The author describes each class fully - basically you've taken it yourself, without the practice runs, by the end of the book. It's weirdly boring and compelling at the same time. Judith tries this system out on her son, and takes a road trip to meet up with Brian near the end, to do the same. Brian is odd and unwelcoming and I couldn't really see why an educated, grown woman was obsessing over him in the way that Judith was. There were even hints that he was in a relationship with his 'roommate', but Judith didn't seem to pick those up.

I am not really sure what to say about this book. It was unique; it had some interesting characters, especially Vivienne, a friend Judith makes in the class. There is a leavening of humour in the very earnest descriptions of the "Results Method", most of which reminds me of people I've met who are really into 'energy' and chakras and so forth.  It's another book in which I'm not sure if the author is 100% believing in what she's writing or satirizing it, even gently.

I can say that I loved the cover of this book, and its descriptions of the clothes Vivienne makes and wears. I liked the rest, even while finding it mildly perplexing. What was the point of this novel? I'm not quite sure, and I am not sure about the conclusion either. It's all a bit up in the air. And how much is novel and how much reportage? This story read like a report on this 'results system', mixed in with a diary, mixed in with a sprinkle of fictional fairy dust. I don't know what to make of it, but it did keep me reading steadily all the way through. I think I will have to leave it there!

Taxi!

Taxi! / Helen Potrebenko
Vancouver: New Star Books, 1989, c1975.
162 p.

This is a Canadian novel from the 70s which doesn't examine the theme of Wilderness, or individual crises of identity among women looking at their lives; it looks at the everyday systemic crisis that women faced as urban, working class people in this era. And it is superbly strong and fearless while doing it.

I enjoyed Potrebenko's short story collection, Hey, Waitress!, when I read it some years ago, and have been meaning to get to Taxi! ever since. Thanks to Interlibrary Loan I got my hands on it and read it this week. There are some others who are really keen on getting people to read Taxi again, notably author Anakana Schofield, who loved it so much that she sparked its revival with a piece praising it in the National Post, and then started a blog about it, way back in 2009.

What's it about? Taxi driving, on the surface of it. Shannon is an outspoken taxi driver in Vancouver; she's unusual, as there aren't many women in this soul-sucking job. Through her narration the reader comes to understand the drudgery of this job, and the way in which so many people don't have the option of finding a 'better job' to go to. She talks about the dull passengers who always have the same questions: "Are you married? Are there many women drivers?  Do you like your job?"

Potrebenko openly discusses class, money, feminism, sexism, racism, politics and more -- refreshing, really. She refers to the War Measures Act, to unionizing, to the Vietnam War, to the state that Indians [sic] find themselves in at this time. "It's hard to find work if you're not a white man," one Indigenous passenger tells her; yes, Shannon agrees, yes it is. 

Shannon, alongside her friends and housemates Evelyn & Bradley (and their baby), are placed into a social context. Their friendship goes from strong to fraught and back again depending on the exhaustion of all three, and their employment and economic status. Bradley loses jobs, so has to take on some short-term work he dislikes; Evelyn holds a brief office job but prefers to be home with the baby. Shannon keeps plodding along driving a broken-down taxi, sharing her feminist insights with some of her passengers, and fending off drunks - so many drunks. She has one real friend, Gerald, a middle class young man who has decided being a hippie on the street is more worth his time -- Potrebenko has some strong words for the burgeoning hippie movement, although Shannon does call herself a kind of hippie from time to time. 

"There is no more room in the middle class for the sons of the working class (there never was any room for the daughters). Even the sons and daughters of the middle class are finding there is no further space for them, and so they are cast down into cannabis and hitch-hiking and they pretend for a time that it's groovy...
"
Here's another quote about why she thinks the hippie movement took on steam, too long to type out but a full page and more of socioeconomic philosophy:

This is a novel that still resonates and speaks truth to the reader. It's kind of depressing that this book, first released 42 years ago, is still so timely. But it's energetic, honest, funny in parts, and has a straightforward and unusual perspective that I really appreciated. If you are looking for the fictionally uncommon perspective of a working class woman, this is the one for you.

************************* Helen Potrebenko also writes poetry, and you can find some of it online at her blog Doing My Share of the World's Work - it hasn't been updated lately but still holds a lot of her work.

Gone to Pot

Gone to Pot / Jennifer Craig
Toronto: Second Story Press, c2017.
248 p.

For some odd reason, I found that over the last couple of weeks I've read a string of books which all have women and money as a theme. Many different kinds of stories but all with income as a preoccupation of the female characters. This is the first one.

Jess is a nice, white-haired Grandma, who has just lost her waitress job, due to the restaurant she worked at burning down. She is independent and prefers her own company and her own beloved house, so refuses her son's offer to move in with his family -- though that might also have something to do with the daughter-in-law that she doesn't get along with. 

But as her savings sink lower and lower, and ageism rears its head and makes a new job difficult to find in her small town (Nelson, BC) she has to find a way to support herself. Enter her young former coworker Swan, with the suggestion that Jess has a great income opportunity, with the perfect location in which to grow pot - her basement. 

The rest of the book is very detailed about the process of growing pot; all the problems, ups and downs and technical details are spelled out for the reader. The issue of smell, of harvesting and selling, and so on are thoroughly covered. As someone on Goodreads noted, she wasn't sure if this was a feisty-lady-making-good story or a how-to on home pot growing! It's definitely a story centred around Jess' life and experiences, and that of her circle of women friends... her "bookclub" who don't really discuss books. Add to that the problems that Swan faces, and we have a multigenerational story of women's lives which is quite effective. But it is quite chock-a-block with pot info as well.

Jess tosses in some philosophical musings too, about aging, and about morality vs legality (mostly around pot growing & using), and sometimes these authorial additions feel a bit intrusive, a bit "dear reader". I personally dislike the idea of pot being as widely used as tobacco & alcohol, so I didn't nod in agreement often at these comments. But I still found the story entertaining, often funny - in a situationally funny way, not like it was full of one-liners - and Jess was a great character. 

I thought it pointed out the difficulties of income and security, especially for older women who've spent their lives working and caring for others, in a relatable way. And Jess' solution to her money woes and those of her friends, in the end, is charming and uplifting, even if not 100% realistic. I think many people have the same dreams and will be able to understand and enjoy this tale. 

If you're virulently anti-pot, you may not want to read this. Otherwise, check out this very contemporary story of a social reality being faced down creatively by a very determined senior citizen.  Its unique and creative storyline will make you think!

Son of a Trickster

Son of a Trickster / Eden Robinson
Toronto: Knopf, c2017.
336 p.

Eden Robinson is a fantastic writer. And I was anticipating this book, her first novel in a decade. Imagine my excitement when I heard in was to be the first of a trilogy! Then I read it. 

Surprise -- it was even better than I'd expected, no let down here! Robinson takes us into the life of teenager Jared, who gets by living a very adult life even while still attending high school. He bakes weed cookies for a little income now and then, that is, alongside his paper route and yard/house work for the old couple down the street. Jared is a sweet boy despite everything. 

And everything includes a mother who is usually pretty wild, either partying, on drugs, or with weapon in hand. She is not one-note, though, and neither is her live in boyfriend, a drug dealer who is also a bit more complex than you'd expect. 

Jared has also had to deal with a grandmother who has never liked him, calling him the son of a trickster, or Wee'git. He doesn't know why, or what she means. But in this sixteenth year, he starts to see things, like a cloud of philosopher fireflies encircling his girlfriend, and to be approached by talking crows and otters. 

Add the regular 'normal' life problems of unflattering videos of him posted on youtube by the popular kids, or getting in fights when drunk, or getting rolled for cash by unknown assailants while just trying to beat some butter for cookies, and Jared is having a tough time. But when he is kidnapped by cannibalistic river otters he knows something isn't quite right. Enter Trickster. 

This is an imaginative, energetic narrative that has a wild plot, veering from banal everyday struggle to magical intervention from the indigenous spirit world into Jared's life. The characters are very strong -- Jared himself is so complicated and interesting as a protagonist, and his deep (though complicated) relationship to his mother is vital to the book. She's not a villain, despite her extreme foul mouth and bad habits; in fact she was very interesting, with reasons for the things she does. I thought his high school life was believable, the responsibility he feels to his estranged father touching, and his strong connection to the old couple down the street was powerful. 

By the end of this book we are just starting to discover Jared's true paternity and ancestry. And to see some resolution in a few relationships, while it's more dissolution of others. I can hardly wait until the next volume to find out more about Jared and his family's connection to his Trickster father. This was a great read, and a great start to a longer story.

***********************************************

You can listen to a brief interview with Eden Robinson at Unreserved on the CBC

And then you can listen to the Unreserved Indigenous Reads Panel discuss this novel.

Republic of Dirt

The Republic of Dirt / Susan Juby
Toronto: HarperCollins, c2015.
399 p. 

Another amusing, light book I picked up at the library, this is the sequel to Home to Woefield, by an author better known for her YA prowess. I've read many of her YA novels and find her very funny and still warm-hearted.

Many of the expectations I had from those books were met in this adult novel as well. As for the humour, well, this novel was the winner of the 2016 Leacock Medal for Humour. 

Full disclosure, I never read the first book. And I really didn't have to in order to enjoy this volume. It is told in four voices, those of Prudence Burns (owner of Woefield Farm), Earl (an elderly farmhand with a secret), Seth (heavy metal blogger and farm assistant), and Sara (11 yrs old, keeps a flock of award winning chickens at the farm). 

Each of these oddball characters relate the story from their point of view, and as they do so you see how they make a family for themselves out of these random connections. They are each funny, sarcastic, caring, and somehow utterly charming. Plus chickens. Somehow adding a chicken always makes things more amusing. 

It's a bit of a romp, a bit over the top at times. There are some scenes that made me laugh, some that amused. I thought it was a nice story -- despite some of the darker elements, Juby keeps the story palatable for a general reader, if you don't mind two characters with a bit of a cursing habit. I thought it was entertaining, and engaging, but sometimes a little too jokey for me. But I'm not the ideal fan of humorous fiction, as it is really so individual as to what one person finds funny or not, and I often don't have quite the same sensibilities as an author. So while I did enjoy this, I probably won't go back to read the first one in the series. 

But as a light and easy read, it was solidly written, with both laughs and melancholy combined. 

Ellen in Pieces & The Opening Sky

And now for a quick review of a duo of novels that I didn't quite love as much as others have -- even if both of their covers are gorgeous. Both feature strong women at midlife and the messiness of mother-child dynamics, friendships, lust/love and much more.



Ellen in Pieces / Caroline Adderson
Toronto: HarperCollins, c2014.
304 p.

Ellen McGinty is the mother of two grown daughters, and is at the point in her life where she is ready to do whatever she wants. This story takes a brash, opinionated, mature woman who has no more f*ks left to give, and follows her through her relationships - with her children, her father, her new young lover, her long-standing female friends - until she receives a grim diagnosis. You don't often see this kind of woman in fiction, and I appreciated Adderson's skill at character development. The exposure of the faults & fissures of adult friendships was another strong point. I also really loved her style and her writing itself.

However, I didn't really warm to Ellen and while I thought this was a clever and fresh novel, I also felt a bit distanced from it. It feels a little like a novel in stories, which isn't always my own favourite style, and so my final sense of it was that I liked it but I probably won't read it again. Unlike other readers, such as Kerry Clare, who rave about it very eloquently. You'll have to judge for yourself! 


(ps - I really loved Adderson's earlier novel, The Sky is Falling, much more)
 
The Opening Sky / Joan Thomas
Toronto: McLelland & Stewart, c2014.
368 p.

This is a beautiful cover for a book with a premise that promised much. But it really didn't work for me; a little too long, and a little too uneventful.

It's set in Winnipeg, in a fairly privileged family; a self-satisfied middle-aged couple with the usual middle-aged marriage complaints, a daughter full of promise & just beginning her life as a university student...and her unexpected pregnancy.

This throws the family into turmoil both because it is rather shameful for her therapist father & Sex Ed Resource Centre manager mother, and because Sylvie & her boyfriend are both eco-warriors who had planned never to reproduce. 

There are lots of questions to ponder in this book, but the lecture-y feel of some of the ecological themes was a bit distracting, as was the frequent insertion of the meaning of words/ideas etc. that the characters are thinking about. Also, the parents of both Sylvie & her boyfriend are unbearably smug despite the secrets and history they have together. (It's those secrets from the past that were the most interesting part of the story). So while objectively this is an intriguing idea for a book, it was just not the one for me. 

One Hundred Days of Rain

One Hundred Days of Rain / Carellin Brooks
Toronto: BookThug, c2015.
203 p.

I recently searched out this novel, mainly because it's written by someone I went to university with -- well, perhaps not "with", but at the same time as. While Carellin Brooks was not aware of me & my circle, we were certainly aware of her in her capacity as a Rhodes Scholar, which was very impressive to us. And then just as I finished this novel, I saw that the ReLit award nominee list was finally posted, and this is one of the nominees. It also won the 2016 Edmund White Award for Debut Fiction earlier last year.

Told in 99 short chapters, this spare poetic novel relates the story of a breakup. It begins with a domestic dispute, one noticeable enough for the neighbours to call the police. And it turns into an uncomfortable she said/she said situation, as our unnamed narrator is arrested. It's also unexpected, playing against type, as she's revealed as the more delicate of the two women. 

The story is told from her perspective, working through her actions and emotions as this separation and eventual divorce are processed, through many long days of rain. It reads almost like a first person narrative, with emotional distance established by the use of she, her etc. rather than "I": the writer tells the story, not the narrator. 

The continuous focus on the details of weather and varied kinds of rain (it's set in Vancouver) reflect the ways relationships can be perceived differently from moment to moment -- each slight permutation of rainfall is catalogued and described, and the occasional day of sun is celebrated. (after a point I couldn't help being reminded of Ray Bradbury's All Summer in a Day)

The brief sections, which all dissect the narrator's life as she struggles through this rather nasty breakup, carry a repetitive rhythm that made me think of music; layering one instant over another over another until a full symphony is produced. Our narrator has a young son who is caught in the midst of the arguments between she and her estranged spouse, M. The young boy's father is also in the picture, adding another stressor to her new situation. But she makes it through; each chapter is another step in her journey.

The writing is elegant and resists sentimentality. It's precise; Brooks doesn't use a deluge of words to describe the watery themes. I enjoyed the brief chapters -- like glimpses into parts of this character's life, now and then the past, and now again, each one illuminating just a little more about the failed relationship. As you read, the picture expands, and hindsight allows for a pattern and for a little bit of justification on the narrator's part. But, since you only see things from her vantage point, there is still room left to wonder what things looked like from the other side. It's raw and honest, full of sadness, regret, and yet still a bit of hope for the future, all while avoiding easy emotional storytelling.

I think it might be the sympathy shown for the characters that wins over the reader. Each of the people who surround the narrator have their pluses and minuses, each has a part to play in this major change she's going through. And each hurts in their own way, also. And yet there are so many little things that offer momentary escape, like a spontaneous trip on the ferry, a sunny day, even a brief connection to surprised strangers who all experience a moment of hail on the street together. 

The narrator is a sympathetic lead, and her story is told with nuance and precision. The poetic evocation of both the emotional and actual landscape of her life adds something really special to this story. The story is beautifully framed by the 99 chapter structure, the writing is satisfyingly complex, and the emotion is authentic and haunting. I guess I'm still a little envious of the ability of the Rhodes Scholar I admired 25 years ago! 

The Spawning Grounds

The Spawning Grounds / Gail Anderson-Dargatz
Toronto: Knopf, c2016.
300 p.

This new novel by Gail Anderson-Dargatz was well worth waiting for. I just raced through it in two days. 

On the face of it, it's an uncomplicated, quick read with lots of drama, all about a family who has lived in the Thompson-Shuswap region of British Columbia, along the shores of the Lightning River, since the gold rush of 1860 -- and across the river from Shuswap territory.

It's about the salmon in the river, and the careless behaviour of farmers, ranchers, settlers, all those who've added to the increased silting, decreased water flow, and resultant decrease in the ability of salmon to return to their spawning grounds.

It's about one family, the Robertsons, and the difficult love between parents and siblings, as well as their varied romantic entanglements. 

It's about the history and the present situation of the Shuswap in the face of more development on their land, and their relationship with those who settled there in the past.

And it's about the river mystery, a spirit who has caused much tragedy and uproar over the years in its singleminded focus on its own purposes - even to the point of suicide by those whom it has inhabited.

So as you read and reflect, it doesn't seem so uncomplicated after all. The surface of the story is deceptively calm, like the Lightning River, but the story holds a deep mystery as well. Hannah and Brandon Robertson are the latest generation to live at the family homestead; Brandon in high school and Hannah in university. But their childhood friend from across the river, Alex, is now turning into more than a friend for Hannah, and is instrumental in the action that flows from Brandon's encounter with the river mystery.

Anderson-Dargatz has woven together environmental concerns about the river and salmon levels, which Hannah is heavily involved in trying to measure and fix, with the spiritual and myth-based explanations that Alex brings forward from Shuswap tradition. She holds the tension between the two belief systems and makes them equally important to the narrative. The Robertson's family story is entangled with the stories of the river, and only Alex's storytelling can make sense of it.

It's a great read, and perfect for this time of year, with its tales of the spirit world and the dark and stormy nights that the spirit brings on while Hannah and Alex fight to rescue Brandon and save their communities. Really interesting read, and one with a very strong sense of place.

Madeleine Thien's Masterful Do Not Say We Have Nothing

Do Not Say We Have Nothing / Madeleine Thien
Toronto: Knopf, c2016
480 p.


This is one of the best books I have read yet this year -- and apparently the Man Booker jury agrees with me, as it has just appeared on the Man Booker longlist! I am so glad it is getting wider exposure, as it is an important, disturbing story, and yet also a hopeful and beautiful one.

It follows three generations of a musical family, from their countrified past to the more international present. And in between -- lies the Cultural Revolution.

Marie lives in Vancouver with her mother. Her father Kai left them to travel to Hong Kong some years before, where he killed himself. They are bereft and uncertain about what happened or why.

Into their life comes Ai Ming, the daughter of Kai's  best friend Sparrow, a composer who never escaped China. Ai Ming has left China and needs a place to live. She comes to them briefly, and then drifts away, attempting to enter the US. Marie loses track of her, and in trying to both find her again and to find out the truth of her own father's life, the whole story unfolds before us.

It moves from present day Canada back to Sparrow's childhood, as the Maoist revolution is beginning. The horrors and betrayals of those years are clearly and chillingly told. The family uses its connections to survive, but as the revolution grows, their musical credibility turns into a liability. As musicians and professors are changed into elites who must be destroyed, this family crumbles into re-education and prisons. The role of art and beauty, books and stories recorded in beautiful calligraphy, is essential to the story and to this family's continuation. Eventually the next generation, Ai Ming's, finds a slight lessening of the political control, a crack to slip through to go to Canada. Even then the persecution is internalized; Ai Ming can't stay with Marie & her mother, or trust that she is free.

It's a powerful story. The content is striking -- with the stories twisted around one another so that they can't be separated. The contrast of love and beauty with the complete cultural destruction of China's past and history is unbelievably stark. It's terrifying, and it's brilliant. The writing is beautiful, the characters are unforgettable, the story is so important. The way Thien has approached this family's story creates a narrative that makes perfect sense whether past or present. Each is told slightly differently, but cohesively. The structure of the book made it very satisfying to read, and the conclusion fit the long build up to get there. The musical content is reflected in the text, with themes recurring and overlapping, with variations to the stories from different angles; it's like a composition in itself.

I could go on about the many different characters, how they affect one another, the things they face -- but this is a long book and it would take a long time. Plus, the impact comes from just reading it and getting carried away by these stories.

I prefer to talk about my own personal reading experience when I share books here; I don't consider these posts to be "reviews". If you'd like some official reviews, try these:

A glorious review by David Hobbs at the Globe & Mail which says all I wish I could say, so well. 

Leslie Shimotakahara at the National Post reviews it as well

Isabel Hilton at the Guardian shares this book with British readers

Donna Bailey Nurse shares some thoughts and some similar reading at Macleans

As for me, I'd strongly recommend finding a copy as soon as you can, and settling in with it for a while. These characters will stay with you for a long time. Those who love beautiful, powerful writing, strong characters, and a setting that will overwhelm your senses will love this one.

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Further Reading:

The memoir Wild Swans by Jung Chang also tells a story of three generations of women across 20th century China. It was an overwhelmingly successful book when it was first published, and the raw stories of the Cultural Revolution are still powerful.

For a story of unrest and change over three generations, but set in a different country dealing with repressive goverment, try Carolina de Robertis' The Invisible Mountain, a story which, as I said when I first read it, "illuminate[s] the tangled relationships between mothers and daughters, and between a country and its citizens."

A Tale for the Time Being

A Tale for the Time Being / Ruth Ozeki

Toronto: Viking Canada, c2013.
432 p.

This novel was one I'd been awaiting: I read Ozeki's first novel, My Year of Meats, in those long-lost pre-blogging years, and loved it. And this one looked great: a diary washed ashore in British Columbia, a Japanese teenager's story, Zen Buddhism, depression, the ravages of modern Japanese culture, plus the metafictional twist of the main character Ruth working as a writer, married to someone named Oliver, living in B.C. and being half Japanese -- all the same as Ruth Ozeki herself.

So I was at first a little let down, as I found the beginning a bit slow, even thinking of putting this book aside. But, because I enjoy Ozeki, I kept going. And I am so glad I did, since the story clicked with me about a quarter of the way in (most likely when I slowed down enough to become an attentive reader) and then I could not stop. This turned out to be one of my top reads of the year so far. It was excellent, a collage of stories, reflected in the cover design, one which wove the strands of the tale more and more closely until the final brilliant turn.

It's hard to summarize or identify specific elements that appealed, as everything depends on its context. But even the title is a surprise, something that charmed me. Early on, Japanese diarist Nao (pronounced Now) states:

“My name is Nao, and I am a time being... A time being is someone who lives in time, and that means you, and me, and every one of us who is, or was, or ever will be.”

The idea of time and how it moves is a big part of this book. Nao's great-grandmother Jiko, a 104 yr old Buddhist nun, is a master of time, and tries to teach Nao how to meditate and experience time in the moment. Nao has been experiencing time as a burden, one that she is increasingly willing to cast off.

Meanwhile Ruth experiences what can only be explained as a rupture in the space-time continuum near the end, when she actually inserts herself into the narrative that she is reading, one that unscrolls before her eyes. It was an unexpected development, and brilliant.

The writing in this novel is wonderful; it flows, it eddies, it shoots straight ahead with its relation of the horrible conditions that Nao faces as a bullied schoolgirl. The picture that is drawn of modern Japan is of a rough, cold society. Ruth, on her rainy B.C. island, seems to connect immediately with the story she reads in the diary. And a Japanese crow that has found its way to her forest somehow is also connecting her to this story in a much more mystical manner.

I loved the way the realities of both Nao's life and Ruth's more prosaic one intertwine. As Ruth and Oliver worry about the power going out in storms, or head on down to the local dump, or take the ferry over to town for a dinner out, their lives expand and become fascinating and complex on their own. But in the interactions of both stories, mediated by Ruth's reading, magic happens.

And it's in this metafiction, this shared diary reading between Ruth and the Reader, that I found great delight. The book recognizes the ability of narrative and storytelling to bend and compress time, to record and bring to life events that may be distant from us in time and space, events that we reanimate and live through as if in our present, by reading. Whether it's the diary, emails, old letters scrawled in Japanese or French, or Ruth's tortured novel writing, words and reading are essential to this story.

I loved the complexity, the layers that build as the book goes on, the characters, the setting, the writing itself. This was a fantastic read, and I could go on and on, trying to explain why and how I loved it -- how the characters, major and minor, seeped into my consciousness so that I was dreaming about them; how the B.C. coast and Japanese countryside seemed to be opposite sides of one singular place; how the reversals and leaps between Nao and Ruth's stories kept me anxiously reading; how the motifs of time and water and flow intermingled effortlessly; how I marvelled at Ozeki's technique even as I enjoyed the story itself.

But instead of going on and on, I'll just recommend you read it. That you take time to pay attention to the moment, as Jiko teaches, and find what is revealed there. This was a beautiful book, one I will reread.


I also just noticed that this is my 1000th blog post! Great to have it discussing a book I loved. It's only taken me close to exactly 7 years to reach this milestone, as I started blogging in May of 2006 :)

Suspicion

Suspicion / Rachel Wyatt 
Regina: Coteau Books, c2012.
248 p.

Candace Wilson walked out one sunny morning on her way to the dentist. Because the dentist's office was closed, nobody having called her to reschedule, she had an extra hour to fill before work. Because of this extra hour, she decided to walk in the park and ponder her life, and how it seemed to be going so off-course; should she start reinventing herself by buying a new couch?  Because of this decision to take a walk, she disappeared.

This novel looks at the results of her sudden, unexpected disappearance. Her husband Jack is a local developer, hugely unpopular right now thanks to his latest lakefront project. This makes it easy for many locals to quickly suspect that he has something to do with Candace's disappearance.  Or maybe it has something to do with a local busybody whom no-one really likes, and whose husband had a short-lived affair with Candace. Could it be connected to her rocky relationship with her sister Erica, and her brother-in-law's frantic devotion to finding Candace, or perhaps to Erica's own interest in Jack? Suspicions mount, and as the hours and days pass, supposition and the ability to believe the worst of almost anyone takes over this small community.

The power of this book lies in Wyatt's sharp eye for human weaknesses. She is able to capture individual quirks, both amusing and unpleasant. Her depiction, both of mob mentality and of an individual's reasons for behaviour that looks odd from the outside, is believable and detailed. You can see how this one change in the stasis of this community is shaking everything up. From Candace's immediate family, to her coworkers, to the larger circles of former school friends and local acquaintances, everyone is affected by what has happened. The narrative is snappy, with lots of movement between characters, and as the story progresses, the reader also begins to hold their own suspicions as to who might be responsible. The book offers many scenarios, none of which are confirmed or denied, leaving the conclusion apparently obvious...but is it, really?

Despite a story element featuring an online chatroom that is just too conveniently local, and the last pages feeling a little bit unfocused, I really enjoyed reading this. There is an inescapable feeling that the reader is implicated in the quick and easy fallback upon ungrounded suspicions, that we are just as likely as these citizens that we are condemning for their prejudices to want to blame somebody for Candace's disappearance, as quickly as possible.

It's a psychological study as much as a mystery, and very Canadian in its setting (fictional Ghills Lake, B.C.) as well as in Jack's idea that he's going to have to start over in Saskatchewan to escape the gossip (do people really move to Saskatchewan to reinvent themselves? It's surely the opposite trajectory to my own!) There was a wide variety of character types, young and old, and many issues of fidelity, satisfaction, fulfillment, friendship, and meaning playing a part. It was an unusual and entertaining read.

To This Cedar Fountain

To This Cedar Fountain / Kate Braid
Vancouver: Polestar, c1995.
95 p.

This was a serendipitous discovery for me, and I'm not sure why I've never heard of it before! It's too bad that this is now out-of-print. It's a deeply felt poetic Canadian response to a Canadian artist.

It's a collection of poetry which is a response to and a dialogue with Emily Carr. I hope that everyone knows about the artist and writer Emily Carr -- she is an amazing Canadian painter who I absolutely love. She also wrote a number of books in her later life which are just as wonderful as her painting. She was fiercely independent and original, despite both opposition and indifference from the art world in her era.

She wrote something that has become one of my very favourite quotes:

Do not try to do extraordinary things, but do ordinary things with intensity.

It's clear that poet Kate Braid is similarly enthralled by Emily Carr. This collection of poetry takes inspiration from Emily's art -- most of the poems are named after a painting, and one of them is a found poem from Emily's published journals. There are a few coloured prints of some of the works which Braid is responding to, which is nice. And each poem is faced with a quote from Emily's writings -- either something that Braid is responding to directly, or a few lines which illuminate Emily's thoughts about the painting that is the subject of the poem. It works wonderfully, and Braid's own experience working with her hands (she's a carpenter) shows in her understanding of Emily's struggles and inspirations. I think there is a resonance between Emily's love of the living forest and Braid's familiarity with wood as well. There's a connection that you can feel between these two artists. In fact, in one poem called "Wood Interior", Braid finishes with these lines:

Now I know who you are.
Another woman who knows wood.

Once I read this I looked further into Braid's work, and she has written another book of poetry inspired by Emily Carr and Georgia O'Keefe. She's also written a juvenile biography of Carr for a Canadian series. So the sense of connection obviously continued!

I enjoyed the earthiness of these poems: the physical connection to nature that Emily's paintings reveal is highlighted in some of the poems. Braid also draws out the feeling of isolation and loneliness that Carr's writings reveal; she had a hard life going her own way. The poems express Braid's thoughts about each painting -- sometimes a description of her own viewing of it, sometimes a look at the feelings Emily is trying to express through an image. There is a combination of two poems at the centre of the book which are marvellous: the first, a found poem directly out of Carr's work, and the second a glosa which uses some of the lines from the found poem to create an intimate dialogue with Emily's writing.

This book feels like an artistic collaboration between the two: the tone and the interaction between the words of both writers are at exactly the right pitch. I really enjoyed this book and Braid's interpretation of her experience of each painting. This book is a lovely idea that is wonderfully executed. Now to go see another Emily Carr exhibition....

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For this year's Canadian Book Challenge I've chosen as my theme "Small-Press-Palooza" Thus, for each book I'm including a link to the small press who has published it. Take a look -- there are wonderful small presses all over Canada!

Polestar Book Publishers was bought out by Raincoast in 2000, then disbanded when Raincoast decided that they were no longer publishing Canadian works, rather sticking to distribution and repackaging. Farewell, Polestar.

Here's more on Emily Carr!

Into that Darkness

Into that Darkness / Steven Price
Thomas Allan, c2011.
273 p.

Steven Price had no idea that his novel about the aftermath of a devastating earthquake in Victoria, B.C. would be released shortly after the disaster in Japan. He started writing it seven years ago and it was released just a week or so after the earthquake and tsunami. He is quick to point out that is is unnerving timing, in an interview with his hometown paper.

This book takes the idea of a shattering disaster, and investigates what would happen to those in the midst of such a tragedy. What would the human cost and human reaction be? It turns out that the world quickly turns to chaos and self-interest, with the landscape of the novel nearly apocalyptic. There seems to be little order, no outside assistance, and hordes of marauding criminals.

The main characters are Arthur Lear, an old man, a former painter who has lost his artistic edge; Anna Mercia, a younger mother with two children, who runs a cafe downtown, and her son Marcus, home from school on the day of the tragedy. Anna Mercia and Marcus are trapped in the rubble, while Arthur is one of the rescuing team who pulls Marcus out of the wreckage (they think Anna Mercia is dead) and ends up taking charge of him. Marcus is convinced his mother isn't dead, and drags a reluctant Arthur into a search for her. She is indeed alive and after locating her all three continue their quest to find her missing daughter. This takes them all across the wild west that Victoria has become, encountering murderers, brigands and the odd person just trying to help somehow (these generally seem to be doctors and nurses).

The book was certainly exciting. The description of the earthquake itself, the simple moment when everything was unbalanced and the street rose up like a wave, that was stunning. The aftermath was pretty graphic in parts, and felt as alarming and grimy in the writing as the participants must have found it. Price also uses the situation to discuss the larger questions in life; what is human nature made of? Why would a God let this happen? How much do we owe to our fellow human beings? It was an intriguing premise, and the story held together for his purposes.

There was some thoughtful writing in it, as suits a poet's first novel. For example:

He had little time for those who would suggest men should not seek answers.
But an answer is only ever the edge of an outer question. And all of us keep
moving outward.

He told me a question doesn't have to be something you ask. It's a way of looking at the world.

However, in the end I seemed to have the same problem with this book as I do with others that are similarly post-apocalyptic in feel. I just couldn't feel truly engaged with the situation. It seemed so improbable that chaos and self-interest would immediately come to the fore, with men organizing themselves into roving gangs, and the patriarchal viewpoint unquestioningly restored, with women seen primarily as adjuncts to the action, with sexual violence hinted at. Even though Anna Mercia was a strong character she still faces gender specific dangers.

In other books like these, I have struggled to suspend disbelief. In this book I ultimately found it harder because unless such an earthquake had also paralyzed most of the continent, there would have been instantaneous assistance flown in. Here we have a world isolated from any outside help. So, read it if you like disaster stories. It is certainly evocative of the scale of destruction that we've just seen in Japan. But if you're going to continually question why nobody is coming to assist the city, well, it might not be worth your time to puzzle through it. If you can let the niggling details slide and simply appreciate the deeper philosophical themes and the ideas of human nature vs. wider nature, then you will find the writing deep and rewarding.

Steven Price holds degrees from the University of Victoria and the University of Virginia. His first collection of poetry, Anatomy of Keys (Brick Books 2006), was shortlisted for the Dorothy Livesay Poetry Prize (BC Book Awards), won the Gerald Lampert Award (League of Canadian Poets) and was named a Globe & Mail Best Book for 2006. He lives and writes in Victoria, British Columbia.

photo credit: Esi Edugyan

Bill Gaston's Order of Good Cheer

The Order of Good Cheer / Bill Gaston
Toronto: Anansi, c2008.
388 p.

Another book I picked up as part of my Canadian Book Challenge... deciding that I should read some male authors new to me wasn't as difficult as the first part of my challenge, reading female authors new to me. That is simply because I read far more women than men, so there is a huge pool to choose from here. Still, one of the reasons I read more women is they have a more immediate appeal so it's been a game of reading first chapters of many books to find one that keeps my interest.

Bill Gaston's book caught my interest immediately, and I ended up really enjoying this read. It was partly the gorgeous cover and partly the historical content that convinced me to pick it up, but the writing was appealing from the start. It's set partially in modern-day Prince Rupert, a small town in Northern B.C., and partially in Nova Scotia in 1606/1607. In this era, Champlain and his compatriots were trying to create a settlement in the new world for France. The group is made up of nobles and a mishmash of working men -- soldiers, carpenters, cook, surgeon, priest and so on. Often with two timelines like this, I have problems flipping from one era to another. But, I read this book over a couple of weeks so each time the era changed, I put it down until my next chance to read a bit. I found this worked very well.

Champlain is the main character, sort of, in his part of the book. Really there are a few men amongst the group who take a central role. The carpenter Lucien begins a clandestine relationship with a Mi'qmah girl (it is strictly forbidden to fraternize with the local savages); the priest struggles with the point of his being there at all; Champlain himself tries to forestall the reappearance of scurvy which carried off many of the men who had been there the previous winter before reinforcements came from France. And to counteract the boredom and bad feelings and fear of disease, he decides that the best route is to party. He creates the Order of Good Cheer (this is based in historical fact) and each night a different person is responsible for creating entertainment. This gets them through the dark days despite difficulty and despair.

Meanwhile, in present day B.C., Andy is having a bit of a midlife crisis. Never married, he has remained in his hometown and works at the local mill, a job that both pays well and allows him hours of reading time. He's known as the "clever" person in town, and has to hold himself back from contributing too much information at the wrong time, in order to remain well liked and not mocked. He is in a bit of a lather because his high school girlfriend Laura, who had left to go to Toronto after graduation eighteen years before and broken up with him, is returning home to look after her mother. What will she think of him? How can he ease the reunion? At the same time, his best friend Drew is going through hard times; his marriage is breaking up, his son doesn't really speak to him, and his drinking habit is becoming more than just a casual habit. Andy is currently reading Champlain's memoirs, and is inspired to cheer up everyone and create a gathering which encompasses all the characters we've met throughout his story. It incorporates his mother and her friends, Laura (of course), Drew and his soon-to-be exwife and his son, a Chinese woman who is in town to inspect the fish plant, and a few native friends who bring the food. It's a crazy party that goes in all directions, but seems to tie up loose ends and bring a sense of closure to Andy's story.

The writing was mesmerizing; especially in Champlain's sections the vast natural landscape is evoked strongly. The sense that they are a tiny settlement isolated in a huge unknowable space is very present, as is the comparison of their lives with those of the native groups who come and go around them. But in Andy's part of the story, the natural world is also vast and isolates his community to some degree as well. I thought there were many parallels between these two men, and while Gaston does not belabour the point or draw obvious comparisons, the two stories complement one another. While it is a bit long, I did enjoy the writing itself and the arc of each story.

I appreciated the struggle of these two men to make sense of their lives and surroundings, their determination to make the best of things and do something to improve morale in their own circles. Each person in the story had their own particular life, their own particular struggles, but coming together in community made a difference to them. And I think that that idea is still a good one, and a useful one, as we all face our own difficulties. This book was altogether an unexpected find and a serendipitous one. I thought it was a great read.

Phantom Limb

Phantom Limb / Theresa Kishkan

Saskatoon: Thistledown Press, c2007.

169 p.

I read this book of fifteen personal essays a few weeks ago, but originally received it quite a while ago thanks to author Theresa Kishkan and the Canadian Book Challenge. It's a slim set of meditative personal writings mostly about the author's life in British Columbia -- the land, the people and animals in her life, and her musings about meanings.

I really, really liked it.

I don't read a lot of personal essays -- not by design, they just don't generally catch my eye in my regular reading. But this was a great book to change up my reading habits a bit. The tone of the book is slow. By that I mean, it makes you slow down and really appreciate each word. Kishkan is talking about the natural world, and about the things she observes about the wild animals and the trees and plants all around her. She also talks about relationships, living and dying and everything in between. I was moved, and shaken out of my rapid, shallow appraisal of the world around us that we can so easily fall into in a busy, urban life.

Each essay is a complete work on its own; this would be a book you could read slowly between other works. Read one, think on it a bit, then read another. The writing itself is clear and memorable, bringing to life small acts of everyday living, moments that matter in their specific smallness. Kishkan doesn't say that the woods are autumnal; she says that the broadleaf maple and the salmonberry bushes are losing leaves. She ties together the natural world and family cycles; she ranges from astronomy to quilting; she has a lovely essay about her time living in Ireland as a young woman. Some parts made me cry, some made me feel deeply comforted. It is a beautiful, honest book and I would recommend it to anyone with a sense of the importance of paying attention in your life.

Read a lovely, in-depth review at Terrain.org, with links in their sidebar to three of the essays from the book originally published in Terrain which you can read yourself to get a taste of Kishkan's writing. Give yourself a moment of peace and personal quietude by exploring one of her essays.