Snow Road Station

Snow Road Station / Elizabeth Hay
TO: Knopf Canada, c2023.
230 p.

I haven't been reading as many current Canadian novels as usual, but I did pick this one up recently after someone mentioned how much she liked it. I found it okay, a little bit slow-going but overall a decent read. I think I might have enjoyed it more if I'd read some of Hay's earlier books, as apparently these characters are ones who've reappeared from other stories. 

Actress Lulu Blake is starring in a demanding play in the winter of 2008. But she dried on stage, and as the story opens she is heading through the snow back to her past in Snow Road Station, Ontario. Her brother & his family, as well as her childhood best friend, all still live there, and she's retreating to lick her wounds. Oh, and also to attend a family wedding. And she stays long enough to help with the (thoroughly described) spring maple sugaring process. 

Not much really happens here. Lulu has a traumatic encounter with her friend's ex, a nasty man. She gets fired. But she also rebuilds relationships with her brother, niece and friend, and meets a rugged new man who she falls into an uncomplicated physical relationship with. It's all so nice. 

I'm not really sure what to say about this one. It was okay. A little plodding, a little peaceful, lots of  family stories of the past. It's the kind of book I often enjoy. I didn't dislike this one, but found it a little bland and a bit forgettable. One thing that I did find slightly confusing was that Lulu was 62, but sounded like she was at least a decade older. It was hard to remember how old everyone was supposed to be! Probably best for readers who are already fans of Elizabeth Hay's work. 

And Miles to Go Before I Sleep

And Miles to Go Before I Sleep / Jocelyne Saucier
trans. from the French by Rhonda Mullins
TO: Coach House Books, 2021.
208 p.

This is another translation from a Quebec author that I kind of liked but also found dragged on a bit. It's an interesting concept: Gladys, at the end of her life, hops a train to leave her village of Swastika and her troubled daughter Lisana, returning to the constant train travel of her childhood -- her father was a travelling schoolteacher across Northern Quebec and her family lived on the train. 

The narrator of this book is a man who is tracking down family and friends of Gladys, as well as anyone who might have seen her on a train, to figure out what happened and why. We learn a lot about Gladys' youth, her life in the weirdly named village and her long-term care of her problematic daughter. We also catch glimpses of why she might have just picked up and left with no notice; there are shades of what she might have been looking for as she searched for a last chance at freedom. 

I found a lot of this interesting; Gladys herself, her past, the idea of train travel as a kind of metaphor for freedom. But I also found the story dragged, like a long train trip that you eventually get tired of and just want to end already. The narrator character wasn't compelling to me, and it was like that conceit just added another layer  of distance between the reader and Gladys' motivations and experiences. It was a lot of telling, and at times the story moves away from Gladys to other elements, which felt tacked on to me, as well. 

So overall, despite the potential I was a bit bored by this book. I wanted to finish it to see if we figured out what had motivated Gladys and how her life ended, but did skim through the last third just to find that out. I might try another book by this author in future though, to see if it catches me a bit more. 

Empire of Wild

Empire of Wild / Cherie Dimaline
TO: Penguin Random House, c2019.
300 p.

I've finally got around to reading this novel, after enjoying Dimaline's first book, The Marrow Thieves, a lot. This one's quite different, but also requires a leap of imagination.

In Empire of Wild, the folk story of the Rogarou comes to all too real life. The Rogarou is a werewolf-like creature that haunts the roads and woods of Métis communities. And as this story begins, Victor, new to the community via his wife, disappears. People think he's had enough and just left Joan, but she knows that couldn't be the truth. And it isn't -- he's been taken by the Rogarou.

Then Joan stumbles across Victor -- or a man who is identical to him -- at a travelling religious show. He's preaching from the stage, and when he sees her he doesn't recognize her, and he's going by a different name, the Reverend Eugene Wolff. But she's nothing but determined, and makes it her mission to restore him. 

Alongside her 12 yr old nephew Zeus (a delightful character) she makes a plan to bring Victor home. This requires much information seeking about the Rogarou from elders, tracking of the charismatic religious sect, and some risk taking when the kidnap plan is set. There's lots of great action around the community and secret corporate development plans, around the family relationships of Joan's extended family and community, and a constant thread of the solid and powerful love between Joan and Victor. 

There was a strong lead up to the conclusion, a slow build that all explodes (literally) in the end. The shape of the story is great, except for the very last few pages. I didn't see that the final pages were necessary, unless a sequel is coming. But the event that happens in the last pages doesn't seem to fit with the rest, it kind of takes away from Joan's triumph, in my view anyhow. 

Still, a really interesting concept and strong setting and characters made this an enjoyable, energetic read. 

Up the Hill & Over

Up the Hill and Over / Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
Toronto: Thomas Allen, 1927, c1917.
363 p.

And now for some hundred year old Canadian small town drama! Isabel Ecclestone Mackay was born in Ontario, and though by the time she wrote most of her books she was married and living in Vancouver, her stories still take place in and around Toronto and small town Ontario. 

The first of her books which I read was The House of Windows, set in a town very much like Toronto and featuring a focus on labour practices and the livelihoods of young women, mixed in amongst the storytelling. 

This one takes on another issue - drug abuse - specifically of opioids by someone once prescribed them by a doctor. I don't know if we could find a more timely theme from another 100 year old book.

This is a charming book despite the melodramatic themes -- it felt reminiscent of writers of the era like Myrtle Reed and even our own LM Montgomery -- more Blue Castle than Anne though. 

It starts out with a man walking into town along a dusty road -- he stops for a drink from the schoolhouse pump and encounters Esther, the pretty young schoolteacher. It turns out he's not a tramp, but a doctor intent on settling into this town and working for his living. 

Like every good romance, this one has secrets, mysterious pasts, coincidental meetings, and thwarted love. It also has quite a bit of social commentary: the doctor is a famous Montreal doctor taking an anonymous rest cure after a nervous breakdown, Esther is stuck taking care of an elderly aunt who is mentally unstable, along with a stepmother who is the aforementioned drug addict. The local minister is terrifyingly fixated on the young Esther as well, and she must walk a fine line socially to manage all this. Of course, the arrival of the new doctor throws her ordered life into new paths.

There is lots of confusion, sacrifice and young love going on here, but even with the obvious tropes and the turn of the century writing style the story is appealing and reads very quickly. There's a funny, throwaway quality to some of Mackay's most pointed observations, particularly when she's noting personality quirks and social mores.   
The ending was not at all where I expected the story to go -- she doesn't paint these issues with a golden brush. There is an appropriately happy ending, but one with shadows holding it up.

It was, however, a very engaging read, and I recommend it. I missed out on this author while studying CanLit, so I most definitely think her mix of romance and social critique is due for a second look now.

Lucy Maud in the Muskokas

Lucy Maud Montgomery and Bala / Jack Hutton & Linda Jackson-Hutton
Gravenhurst, ON: Watts Printing, c1998
86 p.

Sometimes my job has unexpected and wonderful perks. Recently I met a couple while I was working, and in conversation we discovered that we were all LM Montgomery fans -- in fact, the husband of the couple was a descendent of Mr. Mustard from Lucy Maud's Prince Albert years. As other fans will know, Maud visited the Mustards many, many years later, when they were in Bala, in Northern Ontario. This visit was the genesis of her only adult novel, The Blue Castle, which was set in the Muskoka region. If you're interested in her visit, there is also a 1995 article written about it by LMM scholar Mary Beth Cavert, available online.

In any case, a little later on, this couple dropped off a copy of this charming book for me. I was completely surprised by this generosity, and delighted to read the story of Jack and Linda Hutton, who started a private museum, Bala's Museum, in 1992. It celebrates Maud's visit and holds family events and gatherings focused on her writing. You can find a brief precis of some of the history of the museum, which is shared in this book, on their website as well. 

While the book seems short, only 86 pages, it is also jam-packed with the story of how Jack and Linda met, married and decided to start an independent museum based on the short, one-time visit that Maud made to Bala. It also looks at the story of Maud's writing life and her celebrity; there is a chapter all about John Mustard; and some contributions by or about contemporary Maud scholars and aficionados, like Mary Rubio or Jean Little. 

It also has a load of wonderful photos of the Montgomery family, of the Huttons and the museum, and of the glorious landscape of Bala. The back cover is a map attempting to trace the movements of Valancy Stirling and Barney Snaith, of The Blue Castle, a route you can follow yourself if you're inclined to take a driving tour. 

It's a charming, homey book, with lots of pure joy in it. You can tell the authors love LMM and the history of the area, and that they have created this still-active museum out of passion. I've only been up to Gravenhurst once, and thought it was lovely, and now that I know all about this nearby LMM location, I'm going to have to go back. This was a delightful read. 

The Saturday Night Ghost Club

The Saturday Night Ghost Club / Craig Davidson
Toronto: Knopf Canada, c2018.
272 p.

As the fall draws in, it is a good time to turn to reads that are a bit spooky, a bit shivery perhaps. The Saturday Night Ghost Club by Canadian author Craig Davidson is one of those books.

It begins with a Stranger Things, 80s vibe – young boys on their bikes, exploring strange places around Cataract City (Niagara). The cover also gives off that retro feel. But the sense of nostalgia for an 80s childhood which comes from the narrator looking back at those years and telling us all about them has a deeper significance, because this story is also about memory and trauma and how our minds manage those things. Very conveniently, the narrator, Jake, has grown up to be a neurosurgeon, with lots to say about how the brain works and how it stores memories - expanding on the theme. 

The heart of the book lies in the relationship between Jake and his Uncle Calvin. Calvin owns the Occultorium, a shop dedicated to the occult, conspiracy theories and the uncanny, and seems to be uncertain himself where that line between everyday life and the supernatural lies. He and Jake have a close relationship, partly because Uncle C seems to be a bit of a child himself, still believing in the kind of magic that gets "kicked out of you, churched out, shamed out - or worse, you steal it from yourself." As long as Jake has known him, Uncle C has never been ordinary. The summer that Jake turns twelve, Calvin invites both Jake and his new friend Billy Yellowbird to join the Saturday Night Ghost Club, in which they will visit haunted sites of Cataract City together.

After their first terrifying foray to a haunted railway tunnel, they almost call it quits. But Cal convinces them to keep checking out other locations connected to spooky urban legends. Sites which have deeper connections to their lives than any of them know. You'll have to read this fairly short book to get a sense of how these connections ultimately match up, and why. 

The tone of the story is nostalgic and folksy, with recollections of innocent adventures and misunderstandings of adult life. Jake's coming of age is centred on this summer; he loses his innocence and a belief in the world as a friendly place over the weeks of the Ghost Club. He's also experiencing his first love, once he meets Dove, Billy's tough and independent older sister. All of that 80s nostalgia and boys noticing girls thing, rolled up together with a pinch of melodrama and heartache. Perfect! 

Davidson has viscerally captured a sense of boyhood and nostalgia. The book reflects similar reads like Ray Bradbury's Dandelion Wine, or Stephen King's Stand By Me. It's a story you won't want to put down; it grabs you and forces you to look clearly at a summer recalled -- and to consider how we remember things and how we shape our own pasts to suit ourselves. 

I had a few quibbles with it: it did feel slightly emotionally manipulative in some ways - with dashes of sentimental writing and melodramatic revelations that made me wince slightly. And upon reflection, I'm not a fan of the golden haze laid over the intense masculinity of Jake's father and the other characters that the chubby, nerdy Jake encounters. It felt a little bit like a stage set of "the past" -- here's what real men are like, and Jake admiring it all the more because it's not what he is like. 

But as a quick literary/genre blend, with some great characters and memorable writing overall, it's a great pick. The interest in the 80s right now, even from those who didn't grow up then, added to the clear compassion that Davidson feels for his characters, equals a sure fire read. Well worth seeking out, even if it is only available in Canada for the moment. 

Ausma Zehanat Khan's Language of Secrets

The Language of Secrets by Ausma Zehanat Khan
New York: Minotaur, c2016.
329 p.

Inspector Esa Khattak works for a Community Policing Unit, acting as a liaison between the police and minority communities in Ontario.  But there is a murder, of an old friend of Khattak's, Mohsin Dar, and suddenly the community he is investigating is his own.

He also receives a call from the (fictitious) Canadian intelligence agency INSET, who need him to understand that Mohsin was working for them, infiltrating a terrorist cell to feed them information. His death might have been political, or it might have been personal.

Khattak sends his partner, Rachel Getty (a solid, hockey playing, clever, reliable woman) undercover into the mosque led by suspect Hassan Ashkouri. There are a variety of characters at the mosque, both Muslim born and converts, and Rachel begins to see the tensions between them all. Things get even stickier when Khattak's sister Ruksh suddenly gets engaged to Ashkouri.

Another element of the story lies in Mohsin and Esa's love of Islamic poetry; many of the clues and hints are found within the lines of the poems that are included in the book. I found the inclusion of this literature fascinating, but it does mean the narrative slows a little unless you just skip over the poetry -- in which case you'll also miss a few clues. But even having read them all, I was still surprised by the conclusion.

This book faces up to issues of terrorism, of women's rights, of minority experiences of many kinds. There's also the question of family loyalty, or the loyalty one has to old friends or your wider community. The writing is smooth, and the characters are interesting and have complex back stories. Khan also seems to have a real grasp on the political infighting between law enforcement agencies and how it affects the application of justice. I thought this was an illuminating, solid mystery that tackles timely themes in an honest and thoughtful way. 

You can read a brief excerpt & hear Ausma Zehanat Khan being interviewed on Q here.

A Bird's Eye

A Bird's Eye / Cary Fagan
Toronto: Anansi, c2013.
178 p.

This brief novel is told as if from a bird's eye view: a wide view, zooming in on moments, but covering a span of years. The main character, Benjamin Kleeman, is a young boy growing up in Toronto in the 30s -- he finds his own way in life, discovering street magic early on and following up this passion at the library. His close friend and eventually also girlfriend, Corrine Foster, is a spirited black girloriginally from Chicago, who dreams of becoming a jazz singer someday.

These two performers manage to create a kind of life together, growing up and eventually having to make the decision to either stay together or drift apart. Benjamin makes his choice, and the story ends, but a whole new story is beginning for him, one that I'd love to read.

Although this is a small book full of brief glimpses into his life and that of early Toronto, there is so much resonance in the details. It manages to convey a lot of emotional content and evocative imagery in a few words, giving us both of Benjamin's parents in quick succession, both of whom have a strong reality of their own. There are elements that create a love song to libraries, to passion, even to Toronto, within Benjamin's own personal story. I think that in the hands of another writer this might have become a 600+ page saga, with detail added upon detail, but Fagan's technique of broad strokes carries this book and it is a powerful though small portion!

The writing is really controlled and finely polished, allowing for a lot of memorable phrases -- I found many quotable bits! Here's something that Benjamin says about stage magicians at one point, and it really jumped out at me as something that could apply to many artists of all kinds:

The thing about magic is that it must be taken very, very seriously. If you don't, it can become a joke. This is why so many performing conjurers have an attitude of pompous gravity on the stage. They are, at heart, deathly afraid of being laughed at. They need to be believed in, like Tinker Bell in the famous play, or they will fade away. Even more, what a conjurer needs is for himself to believe. To believe that what he does has a deeper meaning.

I really enjoyed this read. It reminded me of origami in a way: deceptively small in size, the story kept unfolding and unfolding, having much more surface area than appeared at first glance. It had detail and yet left enough mystery in the spaces between what was told to allow the reader to imagine and colour in parts of the tale. To me, that gives a story the power to inhabit the reader's imagination and echo in your memory for quite a long time. This is a book well worth seeking out.

Emancipation Day

Emancipation Day / Wayne Grady
Toronto: Doubleday, 2013.
336 p.

This was an unexpected pleasure, a book about family, trust, identity and race, set in Windsor & Newfoundland right around the time of WWII.

It's the story of Jack Lewis, a young serviceman in WWII who is stationed in Newfoundland, as a member of the band (he plays trombone). He is far away from his Windsor home, and from his coloured family there. He was born "white" and has always thought of himself as such, and so he has spent much of his life and energy trying very hard to distance himself from his family. He doesn't tell anyone that his father is black (or 'coloured', as the term was then). This includes Vivian, the Newfoundland girl he meets and marries while in the Navy. So when she finally meets Jack's family, she is in for a bit of a surprise.

I was really engaged in this book, despite Jack himself being a bit of a cipher. I never felt that I was really getting inside the mental process that made him so insistent on identifying as "white". There were, of course, obvious reasons for his decision -- one, to make life easier on himself. Grady really examines the day to day effects of living as a black person in mid-century Windsor and Detroit -- the comparisons between countries were particularly fascinating to me. But more than a story of one man, this is a story of how colour, race, and identity permeates everything. How does one identify oneself, and what effect does it have on everyone around that one person? On society in general?

Reading this book, I felt like I was learning quite a lot about a story I hadn't heard before. I studied Canadian history, and was still just vaguely aware of Windsor's black community, and the fluidity of movement across the border. Examining the beliefs of different members of Jack's family, and how each of them negotiated their own way through life with both race and gender playing a part, Grady is able to paint a complex portrait of a family. The setting is very strong, and the characters are intriguing.

One of my favourite characters was Vivian -- she fell for the rebellious Jack during the war, and even left her home for him. When they arrived in Windsor, and later while living in Toronto, she accepts the fact that Jack comes from a "coloured" family, and also that he himself refuses to admit this. She gets to know his family and sisters and feels comfortable with all of the complexity around their relationships. Things come to a head when she gets pregnant. She suddenly realizes that she won't know if the child will appear black or white, and that their whole future will depend on the baby's appearance -- not any hard fact of being from a black or white background, or in this case, a bit of both -- but solely on what the child looks like. She works out a scenario for herself, confident that she can live with Jack's mother and sisters and raise the child there -- or, that Jack will accept the baby and they'll focus on a white middle-class life. Which is it? I was on tenterhooks near the end, waiting to see what Vivian would do. Somehow I knew that no matter what, she would survive.

Grady says that this was a novel he's worked on for twenty years, that it has been pared down and edited from a sprawling family saga. At times that shows, as time jumps and the action telescopes. But the other alternative would have been to leave it a massive doorstopper, so I am grateful that the balance of the book has been maintained and provides a great read in its final form. I think this is a fabulous read, one that would also fit nicely into the theme for Canada Reads 2014 -- hope to see it show up there!

My Ghosts

My Ghosts / Mary Swan
Toronto: Knopf Canada, c2013.
281 p.

What a beautiful read! This novel is just my thing: it looks at generations of a family, weaving memory and chance and connection into a long chain of storytelling. It begins in 1879, in a large family based in Toronto. Both parents are dead and the siblings are creating their own strong family unit, which carries through the book. (Full disclosure up front: this group was my favourite of all the characters)

Through their marriages, new family connections are created, and the next generation arrives with their own stories. Then we hear from the mother of one of the new spouses (a wonderful section) and much later, from two young women travelling Europe in the 70's who don't realize they are related -- but we see the links.

There are sorrows, joys, laughter, bitterness, dark episodes, hope, growth, love... it is a marvellous book. It takes us through the World Wars, into the raucous 70's, right up to our present. It follows characters from youth to old age, or not to old age depending on their fate. We see various perspectives of characters in different episodes. It all feels quite like looking through the old family album, which two of the characters actually do at one point.

I can't really summarize plot for this: starting with Clare in 1879, sick in bed with a dangerous fever, and ending with Clare, a widow in her 60's today, this family tree is more like a vine, twisting and turning unexpected corners, entangling itself in multiple directions. Names, characteristics, and even similar experiences recur as we move through the hundred years and more that the story covers. Plot is not exactly the point.

Characters and the gorgeous language are really key here. That and the sense of Toronto and Southern Ontario more generally, where all the characters tend to stick to, with excursions to Greece and to the wilder 19th century West in parts. There are lovely phrases to ponder, and many small details of family life that Swan notices, the small things that make individuals of our relatives -- the tendency to be sharp-tongued, a propensity for accidents, habits of behaviour, and so forth. There are so many intriguing women in this book, too, from first generations and on (but especially the first ones for me).

Here are a few bon mots that I marked in my reading:

It's not a thing she's thought before, but it makes sense to Clare if that's what Heaven is. Not a place, exactly, but something like a fold, like the part of a let-down hem that has stayed as bright and clean as it was in the beginning, while all the rest fades and fades. Maybe there is a fold like that in time, a sort of sidestep that lets you stay with the ones you loved, lets you watch them and hold them up. But no work to be done, no fretting or cares.

How can it be, that all that time has vanished? All the days and years we walked through together, my same hand turning down the lantern, night after night. A silly question to be asking myself, no point in wondering, no answer. Like the rules of light and shadow, some things just are as they are, and the only way is to start from there and carry on.

The space between them now is tumbled with separate memories, from the time Nan was gone, and with their separate thoughts...She thinks how most of the pleasure goes out of the remembering when there's no one to really share it with.

As you might notice by now, the thoughtful, quiet and deliberate pace of this tale caught me right away. I loved this book, though the end section went on a little too long about Greece for my preferences. I just wanted to get back to Toronto -- and that's not something I say every day ;)

A lovely book that I think needs sharing. What a pleasure it was. The Montreal Gazette says it has a  "purity of voice" and I think that is the perfect phrase to describe it.

Bone & Bread

Bone & Bread / Saleema Nawaz
Toronto: Anansi, c2013.
448 p.

I enjoyed this novel for so many reasons. It's set largely in Montreal, so of course the joy of revisiting and trying to identify some of my old environs was wonderful -- though you don't have to be a Montrealer to feel engaged in this vividly drawn setting.

The most notable thing for me was the writing itself. It is beautiful, capturing images,  characters, feelings, in its many descriptions, metaphors, and simply lovely sentences. It reads as completely natural and yet is also a clear reflection of such talent. I am envious!

The story details the relationship of two sisters, Beena and Sadhana, who are orphaned early, in quite a disturbing manner. These sisters have a Sikh father and a Western mother, and grow up in Montreal largely distant from their Indian family, other than an uncle. This uncle works in their father's bagel shop, and takes over both the shop and the girls' guardianship once they are left orphans. This is a realistic, difficult, yet ultimately powerful relationship for them all.

The book covers issues of sibling love and rivalry, family bonds, grief, the difficulty of maintaining and identifying one's cultural background, sexual desires and roles, teen pregnancy, anorexia, how much one can help really another person, and more. It is rife with issues, replete with drama.

And yet it is also extremely readable, engaging, and illuminating. The issues do not overwhelm the story itself; they are a natural part of the narrative, unlike novels in which story seems to exist simply to prop up a favoured perspective on The Issue that the author is dealing with. This seems to me to be a tough balance, but Nawaz manages it effortlessly.

I found the younger years of the sisters the most powerful, as they depend on one another utterly, and coexist in a small space, helping one another face the world. As they hit their mid-teens, Beena becomes pregnant, while Sadhana finds her focus in anorexia. They both move into their own private worlds until they finally split apart physically as well, with Beena moving to Ottawa with her young son to find a place of her own. The rest of the book details their efforts to stay connected despite the magnetic pull between them which both draws them together and repels.

There was one element right at the conclusion that I felt was jarring; Beena has been searching for Sadhana's diary after her death. She finally lays her hands on it -- but doesn't even open it, doesn't read it. In her circumstances, I can't imagine not reading it. It did feel a bit anticlimactic.

Nonetheless, this was a wonderful book, with much to admire. The setting was so well done, and the sisters' relationship was loving and difficult, very true to life. There were moments when Nawaz' choice of phrasing made me stop, look at everything differently, and reread the sentence more than once. I enjoyed it, and was interested in each character's take on the world, whether it was Beena, Sadhana, or one of the people who surrounded them. Intriguing reading, with lots to discuss.

Grave Concern

Grave Concern / Judith Millar
Renfrew, ON: General Store Publishing House
320 p.

This is a light read, a gothic-comic novel that I came across via recommendation. It's Millar's first novel, though she has written a lot in other areas before.

It's set in Pine Rapids, Ontario -- our main character Kate has returned to her hometown from her life in Alberta after her elderly parents are both killed in a car accident. Despite this dark beginning, the book actually holds a lot of humour.

Kate sets up a grave tending business, Grave Concern, through which she offers to assuage the guilt of absent family members by looking after family gravesites. It's tough to find clients, but it does mean she hangs out a lot in the graveyard, which allows her to be on the scene for many strange occurrences.

What with old high school frenemies who still live in town, the lingering presence of her first true love, a mysterious creature seen only at dusk on the fringes of the graveyard, a talking raven, a handsome newcomer ( he's only lived there 10 years so far), and numerous memories arising from her return, the story has a lot going on. For the most part, it works.

Kate herself is a bit of a mystery to me -- she's approximately in her mid-to-late forties, but often acts much more like a stubborn 20 something. Perhaps it's just all the flashbacks that add to that feel, but especially in a scene near the middle of the book when she and her doctor friend inexplicably hold a huge party for everyone in town, she seems like a not very mature adult!

Nonetheless, this was a funny read that at times felt like it was echoing a gumshoe detective style. Kate is quick with the jokes and sees the oddity in everyday happenings. It was an entertaining look at a fictional small town and what might happen if you did indeed go home again. The slight mystery and the quirky cast of characters blend well, ending up with a story that has a lot of threads but that holds together effectively. It was a quick read perfect for a stormy night!


An interview with Judith Millar about the writing of this book can be found at Open Book Ontario

Mount Pleasant

Mount Pleasant / Don Gillmor
Toronto: Random House, c2013.
403 p.

This is a novel that strongly reminded me of another I've read recently, Bill Gaston's The World. It is set in Toronto and features a man in late middle-age, going through a financial and existential crisis.

But these novels also differ. Mount Pleasant is the story of Harry Salter, born of wealthy parents in Rosedale, married, with an adult son, and shuddering under a huge debtload. He is reduced to waiting for his long estranged father to die in order to receive his inheritance, which he hopes will wipe out most of the debt he is currently shouldering. Alas, when his father dies, he discovers that there is only a few thousand left for him.

He tries to trace the money, trying to figure out where it all could have gone. This involves interrogating his father's business partners, old-money shysters all, as well as forming a short-lived liaison with Dixie, his father's last and much younger girlfriend, who is also furious at the lack of the payoff that she'd been expecting.

The story tackles issues of expectations and entitlement among people who are accustomed to having money. As such, I found myself a bit disengaged with the characters. The story felt one-note to me, going over this financial ground repeatedly -- Harry's lack of money, his mother's lack of money, his father's business partners' manipulation of money, and so on. I'm sure it is a comment on the financial trauma of the past few years, but a little too much of a good thing, maybe. The author is known more as a non-fiction writer, and perhaps that's why I found the fictional aspects of plot and character a bit weak.

The narrative is carried by straight-forward writing, with clever observations, humour, and some entertaining interplay especially between Harry and his son's bossy girlfriend. The setting was great; Toronto really breathes here. The characters weren't so lively, especially the women, who seemed to be simply sketched in. But, it's likely that I am just not the right reader for this one, as I have little patience with the focus of this story: Toronto, male crisis, rich people losing some of their money. It was interesting, but ultimately fell flat for me.


other views:

Kevin from Canada muses on his own memories of Toronto while reading this

Shan from Curled up with a good book and a cup of tea says "There is much that I liked and much that I didn't "

Andrea at Cozy Up with a Good Read states "I can see many people enjoying what he has done with his story"

Etienne's Alphabet

It's been a while since I have sat down long enough to blog about all the reading I'm doing! Or about anything else at all, really. I've been reading quite a bit, and yet not posting much about any of it. I'll have to catch up with some of the titles that were intriguing enough to share.

To begin: my Canadian Book Challenge goal for this year was to review every Canadian book I read, and I am woefully behind on that project. But, I will get back into it with this book -- I can't recall who first mentioned it to me but I thought it sounded intriguing.
(you can read an excerpt at the publisher's site)

Etienne's Alphabet / James King
Toronto: Cormorant Books, c2010.
217 p.

Etienne Morneau is an orphan. He was born in Quebec in 1932 and sent to Toronto when his orphanage was relocated. This has given him a double sense of isolation: a man without a family, without a culture. We meet him through the pages of his journal, describing his upbringing, his living circumstances an adult, and his view of his job as a bank teller, and of other people he comes across in his daily round. He always holds himself at a distance, so his writing is made up of observation more so than engagement with his environment.

We see that Etienne is a creature of habit, that he is gifted numerically and that he has set ways and times of doing things. His journals are presented by subject, in alphabetical order, as a way for him to organize and contain his stories. This choice gives the narrative a bit of a disjointed and at times repetitive nature -- dates and references to people and events are a bit jumbled, which can be just a little confusing. I found myself turning back and forth a few times to ascertain dates and figure out what happened when, what was the cause and what the effect, essentially. However, in general it seemed to work, and was certainly a reflection of Etienne's character, that of a precise, eccentric and quite reserved individual.

Near the end of the story, Etienne discovers art, and in his sudden passion for drawing he finds the joy and passion that had been lacking in his life. It's a passion that overcomes him, expands his vision, and that ends up being the reason for the interest in his life by his "biographer" who has putatively put together this edition of his journals. This framing device was necessary to really comprehend the conclusion of the book, and though I'm not always a fan of such devices, it fit into the narrative as a natural element in this case.

I found the read interesting -- but, as Etienne had no powerful emotional ties to the world he is describing, so neither did I to his story. It was sharp, evocative of his era, full of small detail that coloured his life story, and I did read it with appreciation. But this wasn't one that I loved. I didn't feel a sense of growth in the story or his character until it was too late, and that perhaps comes from the style, or the foregone conclusion that came as expected. I liked it but am not likely to reread.

The Letter Opener

The Letter Opener / Kyo Maclear
Toronto: HarperCollins, c2007.
312 p.

This is a dreamy, introspective book; a story that is being told to us by main character Naiko. She's an employee at the Undeliverable Mail Office of Canada Post -- her job is to try to match up all the missing letters and items that end up in their office with claims that come in to the facility. It's a perfect set-up for musings on identity, how physical objects represent emotions and memories, and on connection. Maclear uses this to play with questions of identity in many different ways: Naiko has a coworker Andrei, who is a refugee from Romania, and we only hear his story as told to Naiko -- it's another distancing, another way of pointing out that much of what we know is a story told by someone, and how reliable are such stories, really? Naiko's mother is also suffering from the early stages of Alzheimer's disease, and becomes strongly focused on her collections, the pens and the household items she hoards which hold meaning for her.

Naiko is the main character; all the action, such as it is, revolves around her life and her viewpoint. However, she is quite a passive character, in that she watches and absorbs others' stories, allowing her own life to drift somewhat. When Andrei disappears from work and his home, she puzzles over why and how he would suddenly abandon her. She becomes rather obsessed with this 'missing item' -- as his primary 'listener' she feels she had become a part of his life, and is now adrift. Has she heard everything that he had to say? Was she missing some small clue? This fixation on knowing the truth also plays out in her own story, as she tries to recall all the minute elements of her childhood and her parent's lives, even as her mother forgets. Naiko has a sister, Kana, but Kana is an active, successful, outward looking international journalist -- basically a mirror image of Naiko. Her physical absence and the relationship with Naiko and their mother is touched upon, but there could have been so much more about the siblings -- I felt there were resentments and stories simmering beneath the surface of that relationship.

While the story is very much a Story, being told to us, with the key points of the action happening off stage (so to speak) I found this book satisfying in a meditative way. Naiko seems to want to freeze time long enough to understand, to capture the memories she feels are disappearing. I could relate to that sense of the world moving too fast, the mind lagging behind a bit. Naiko, however, is fixated on physical objects as repositories of a person's stories, of their actual presence in the world.

There are some beautiful phrases, some great characters, a unique and intriguing setting, and lots to think about. There were a few flaws: sometimes the story felt like it was moving a little too slowly or distancing the reader a bit too much, and the character of Naiko's boyfriend was very puzzling to me -- he seems preternaturally patient and sympathetic to his girlfriend's stagnation at one point of her life, and very relaxed about her obsession with another man (Andrei is gay so there is no real sexual tension for him to worry about but still)

Overall, though, I did find this a good read. It is slow, thoughtful and cool in tone, but if you are interested in seeing how physical objects and the many issues of nationality and personal identity intersect, do give this novel a try.

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Kyo Maclear is a visual arts writer and novelist based in Toronto. She was born in London, England and moved to Toronto at the age of four. Kyo holds an Honours B.A. in Fine Art and Art History and an M.A. in Cultural Studies from the University of Toronto. Her short fiction, essays and art criticism have been widely published and anthologized in North America, Europe and Asia/Australia. Her first children’s book, Spork, was published by Kids Can Press in the Fall of 2010. kyomaclearkids.ca

Lynes' Factory Voice

The Factory Voice / Jeanette Lynes
Regina: Coteau Books, c2009.
288 p.

This story is set in the Second World War, when women are helping to build Mosquitos (airplanes) for the War Effort. It's set in Fort William, Northern Ontario, home of an airplane factory, and has a wide cast of characters from all levels of society -- rich and poor, men and women, Finns, Englishmen, Canadians and more. The story takes inspiration from real life facts -- like the car factory in Fort William which was retooled into an airplane factory in WWII, or the life of aviation pioneer Elizabeth (Elsie)Macgill, the first female aeronautical engineer in Canada. But those facts only serve as supports for Lynes' high-flying creations within the book; she doesn't stick slavishly to real-life details, rather using them to colour the atmosphere of this novel.

It is a fun read, full of energy and great female characters. There are four main characters, and the story focuses on each in turn. They are: Audrey Foley, escaping from a distasteful arranged marriage to her family's farmhand in Spruce Grove, Alberta; Ruby Kozak, secretary at the airplane factory and editor of the internal newsletter, the eponymous Factory Voice; Florence Voutilanien, line worker on probation due to her mother's affiliation with the Red Finns; and finally Muriel McGregor, loosely inspired by Elsie Macgill. Other characters, mostly men but a few female relatives as well, swirl around these women and make up a rich background to the war years, years in which all four of these women find love, or find themselves.

The setting is strongly evoked: the clothing descriptions, the language (expressions like "swell", "dilly", and so on), the role of the young men who are signing up to go overseas, the expectations of the characters, all these seem to place us in a snappy version of the 40's. Lynes is very successful at creating the world of the factory, and each character's participation in the events of the story. The landscape of Northern Ontario is also a big part of the story; and those Mosquitos are aptly named.

Audrey opens the book, and her overeager, enthusiastic, wild voice is entertaining as she flees the story she's stuck with in Alberta, to climb to the most exalted post she can claim, that of snack cart girl. She is befriended by the glamorous Veronica Lake-like Ruby, who wants to use Audrey as her 'eyes and ears' on the factory floor. Sadly enough, Audrey is disillusioned pretty quickly by Ruby's single minded pursuit of a 'big story' -- Ruby has aspirations to investigative journalism, not just an existence as a newsletter editor. Meanwhile, Muriel struggles to figure out new possibilities for cold-weather airplane landing gear, while dealing with her attractions to two different men from her past. Poor Florence, large and ungainly, suffers with a crush on the smooth talking Johnny, and is surprised by her eventual and unexpected relationship with him. I enjoyed how each character sorts out both their romantic relationships and the thorny paths of female friendship, as well as figuring out the role that work plays in their lives. As this was an historical moment when women finally had more working options, I thought that making that issue central to these women's lives was timely and also really interesting!

There is a lot going on in this fast-paced novel, and it is entertaining and very evocative of the period. As the book description says:

Wrapped around the stories of these four women, is a mystery. Something’s gone wrong with the Mosquitoes being built for the war effort -- they keep crashing in flight tests, for no apparent reason. Is the problem with their design, or are they being sabotaged? By whom? The traitorous Red Finns? The political subversives who have recently escaped from one of the nearby prison camps? Everyone’s on high alert and “The Factory Voice” keeps abreast of the details or at least the rumours.

I think that summary pretty much covers it. This is a light read, lots of action and interest and WWII details, but by no means a serious, heavy book. I read it quickly and enjoyed the characters. It was rather refreshing to come across a book set in WWII that wasn't all about the horror and the European experience, but was rather about the Canadian home front and the lives of the women left to take care of everything. And I really loved the cover ;)


Other Voices:

KevinfromCanada says it was certainly fun to read and I have not been able to say that about many books lately.

Carla of Bound to Write highly recommends it as a delightful book, and she reviews it in the Globe & Mail

Jenn's Book Bag states I relished this novel. I enjoyed both the lead female characters, as well as the minor male ones... To sum it up, “keep ‘em flying” Ms. Lynes!




Jeanette Lynes is an award-winning author and has published half a dozen collections of her poetry. The Factory Voice is her first published work of fiction.

She has served in writer-in-residence positions in Saskatoon and Dawson Creek, BC. She holds a Ph.D in English from York University and an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Southern Maine.

She currently lives in Antigonish, Nova Scotia.

Heaven is Small

Heaven is Small / Emily Schultz
Toronto: Anansi, c2009
284 p.

Author Emily Schultz is an accomplished author, poet, and web magazine co-founder and editor (see Joyland). Nevertheless, not being immersed in the same literary circles, I hadn't really heard of her previous to this novel coming to my attention.

The premise of this book is that Gordon Small, hapless joke-store employee and single man whose life is pretty routine and dull, dies on the first page -- no, not even that, in the first sentence.

Moments after his death, an event he had failed to notice, Gordon Small sought new employment.

However, while we are aware of his recent lapse of mortality, he is not. He searches for a new job, following much of the same lifeless routine he has followed in his actual life. He lands a position at the publishing conglomerate known as Heaven Books, a huge complex out in the wastelands of suburbia (any comparisons to Harlequin & Don Mills are likely intentional, as the author worked for Harlequin for a while).

The prose itself reflects the deadened, muffled thoughts encouraged by the constraints Gordon faces while working away in a little office . He seems to be the only one who becomes aware that everyone there is in fact dead. He tries to tell everyone, to get people to believe him, but that only shakes things up and puts him under watch. He finally uses the format of the romance novels that he is editing to send out a final message to the ex-girlfriend (now very successful romance writer herself) who he has left behind. It's a scene that seemed to me to imply that the romance genre is a way readers convince themselves of their existence, through an addiction to reassurances of physicality. Or maybe it was just Gordon's one good idea.

I liked this one; the conceit was interesting and the minutiae of office life was so perfectly drawn -- even the staff room fridge has its place in inter-office politics. However, I didn't quite fall in love. The long scenes of office drudgery made me feel like I was watching another episode of The Office, while the set-up of Heaven being a kind of purgatory sometimes felt to me to be the main focus, all the details having to fit that Idea rather than a more organic storyline. But that's just me -- I lent this one to a friend right after I finished and she thought that part of it was great. Still, I have a hard time reading books that are this dependent on a specific conceit; half my mind is always trying to figure out the details - do they eat? (yes) do they excrete? (no) Is everyone in the same boat? (uncertain)

The writing itself is enjoyable, as the author is an accomplished writer and poet; some of the lines and images are startlingly poetic and memorable. It was a good read that I could admire and respect even if it didn't grab my emotional heart and make me love it. The conclusion is a gorgeous set piece, with images still resonating in my mind. But again, in retrospect, I was puzzled by how the actions of the conclusion fit in with the afterlife 'rules' set out throughout the book. So, if you want to have a fling with a clever and attractive book, do try it. This one, however, was not a marriage of true minds for me.

Other opinons:

JK of Keepin' It Real Book Club had a true romance with this book

Corey of Shelf Monkey states: Gordon's quest for more than death provides is at once bewitching, witty, and terrifyingly familiar.

Remi of Gunner's Miscellany thought it was fun and well constructed though he had a minor quibble with the cover design



Emily Schultz was born in 1974 in southwestern Ontario. She studied English and Creative Writing at the University of Windsor, where she completed her BA. Her first collection of short stories, Black Coffee Night, was shortlisted for the Danuta Gleed Award for Best First Fiction in Canada, and for the ReLit Award. Heaven is Small is her fifth book.

Fauna

Fauna / Alissa York
Toronto: Random House, c2010.
384 p.

I received this book as an ARC from the publisher ahead of its recent release, and have just finished it this week. This is the second novel I've read by a new-to-me Canadian author, for this year's Canadian Book Challenge. Like the first one I read, this is set in Toronto, which is a coincidence, but an interesting one. Many of the locations are the same, and it amused me to think of the various characters from each book coming across each other as they walked the same streets.

Fauna was a mesmerizing book. The atmosphere is immensely rich. There is a large-ish cast of characters, perhaps a few too many at certain points for my brain to absorb; sometimes focusing so deeply on so many alternating lives was discombobulating, even if each person was fascinating. Fauna deals with issues of urban wilderness -- birds flying into office towers, foxes and raccoons becoming roadkill, coyotes in the city -- and skunks, foxes and raccoons have little narratives of their own within the tale. We meet one of the main characters, Edal, as the book opens. She is on stress leave from her job as a federal wildlife officer, unable to take one more experience of the hideous deaths of foreign species smuggled in to Canada by greedy humans (sadly a situation in the news just this week). She is drawn back into life, into some kind of human community, when she comes across Lily, a young street kid, and her huge black dog, who are gathering up stunned birds from under office buildings in the early dawn. Edal follows her, to a wrecking yard on the edge of the Don Valley, slightly apart from the urban sprawl she's used to. There she meets the owner, Guy, his assistant Stephen, and through them a few other characters as the book goes on. This is an idyllic group, a set of injured individuals aiding one another as they rescue and care for (and sometimes provide final resting places for) injured wildlife. As a federal wildlife officer, Edal knows that this is illegal but as they are all obviously sincere, concerned and knowledgeable she doesn't say anything. It helps, of course, that she is increasingly attracted to Guy.

This group is at the heart of the novel; their shaping of themselves into a family is a slow, steady development. One of the lovely elements of this book is how it continually and directly references and quotes from other animal books. Lily reads Watership Down on Guy's recommendation, and copies passages into a notebook (which we get to read). Edal herself is named after an otter in Gavin Maxwell's A Ring of Bright Water -- passages of which are included as Edal recalls reading it as a child. One of the habits the group has is to listen to Guy read aloud after their communal suppers. They read The Jungle Book throughout the novel, sharing relevant scenes with us as readers. The chapters about Darius, who comes in to the story later, are tied up with The Lion, the Witch & the Wardrobe, in a really sad way. The titles of various chapters all refer to one of these books as well. This is very much a book for the bookish.

However, all is not paradisaical in this latter-day Eden. Stephen comes across a blog written by Coyote Cop, advocating the violent destruction of the coyote population. The blog exchanges between Stephen and Coyote Cop add a tech element to a very nature focused story. This part of the book wasn't my favourite storyline; the background story of Darius (Coyote Cop) was unpleasant and miserable, and though his role is not central to the story we spend many pages reading about him. Considering the conclusion, I felt my emotional investment in his story was not really worth it.

One other part of the story that niggled, for me, was the fact that none of these serious animal lovers was vegetarian. There are descriptions of their meals, Stephen's lentil stew but also meatloaf and chicken and so on. Coming immediately after sorrowful burying of wild birds unfortunate enough to fly into windows, it jarred a little on this vegetarian's sensibilities. To be fair, York does include a statement about how one couldn't function feeling the pain of every creature in the world. And all the naturalist books referred to in the story take animal eating animal as part of the cycle of life. Still, I'd have thought at least one of these gentle folk would have been a vegetarian, even just statistically.
As Stephen types in a blog comment:

There's a switch inside every one of us that I guess grew there as a necessary part of survival. How can you drag a fish up out of the river for your supper if you feel the yank of the hook in your own cheek? I get that part. We can't feel for everyone and everything all the time. We'd die of sorrow or fear or sorrow a hundred times a day. The thing is, it's gotten so we flick that switch off like it's nothing. And, more often than not, we forget to turn it back on.

However, all told, this was a magnetic tale. I couldn't stop thinking about all the engaging characters when I wasn't reading, and was in a rush to get back to the book at the first opportunity when I was forced to put it down. The obvious affection York has for the natural world and for her vulnerable characters comes through strongly, and creates an absorbing narrative. The location of Toronto is also a major character in the book, with wilder places like the Don Valley and Riverdale Farm, as well as the streets of the city, playing a huge role. The sense of place is rich and satisfying. It is a slow and deep story, full of varied rewards. It may also open your eyes to the plethora of animal life in any city, proving that the human belief in our general superiority is based on shaky ground.




Alissa York was born in 1970, in Athabasca, Alberta, to Australian immigrant parents. has lived all over Canada and now makes her home in Toronto with her husband, writer/filmmaker Clive Holden. Alissa published her first story in The New Quarterly in 1995. Her highly acclaimed first novel, Mercy, was published in 2003. Second novel Effigy was shortlisted for the Scotiabank Giller Prize.

Things Go Flying

Things Go Flying / Shari Lapeña

Victoria: Brindle & Glass, c2008.

218 p.
Printed on 100% post consumer recycled paper

I noticed this book over a year ago as it came across my desk at work. Isn't that cover wonderful? It certainly caught my attention. Now that I'm into this year's Canadian Book Challenge, in which I've decided to read authors whom I've never read before, I picked it up. Thank goodness for my new self Challenge, because this was so worth it! (extra note: since all the authors I am planning to read are new to me, I'm going to include some biographical information for each one).

I loved this book; it was funny in a deadpan way, the characters were such individuals, the story was odd in a good way, and throughout the book there are discussions of other authors like Voltaire or Nietzsche. I love when books directly reference other books, such fun.

Well, this story begins with outlines of the four members of the Walker family: Harold, nearing fifty and going through a middle age existential crisis; Audrey, superior mother and housewife who also happens to be a bit of a control freak with a deep secret; and their two teenage sons, John and Dylan, who are very teenager-y. They are heading to the funeral of Harold's one time best friend, whom he hasn't seen much of in the last fifteen years. The set-up gives us lots of time to get to know each member of the family, and to show us how very different they all are, and how the worlds they live in are connected yet hold so many secrets that none of the others are aware of. I felt that the first few chapters moved a little slowly, but it quickly picked up and drew me in. The deadpan remarks and thoughts of both spouses regarding the other were funny in a restrained way, and also sadly revealing of a long and normal marriage in which intimacy has perhaps suffered somewhat.

There are so many secrets in this book, and they all begin to go flying as Harold begins to break down to a point that is obvious to all (including his co-workers and supervisor). Audrey resents the extra effort it is taking her to hold the household together, feeling that nobody appreciates it anyhow. Her sons are both taking chances out on their own, getting involved in things that she only has the faintest inkling about. As Paul Quarrington noted in a cover blurb, "the characters are trying to be unremarkable, but remarkable things keep happening to them." I think that captures this book perfectly.

Crazy things are happening to this family; Harold's crisis (plus a few cracks on the head) reveal that he has inherited his mother's 'gift' of hearing the dead, a gift he has never told anyone about. He tries to hide it, knowing that everyone would just think he was crazy. But his actions lead to a forced 'Harold Walker Action Plan' at work, the alternative to taking long-term stress leave. As one of the elements of this plan, he has to seek help. Feeling strongly opposed to seeing a shrink, he makes an appointment to see a Philosopher at the university. I loved this element; Harold feeling out of place at the beginning, while he talks to Will, a young, energetic philosophy professor about the meaning of things. Imagine my delight when at Harold's third visit, Will practices the fine art of bibliotherapy, handing him a copy of Candide to read before their next meeting. And in their following discussion, many of Harold's existential issues find a guiding principle to follow. Very enjoyable, especially because the author never becomes earnest or preachy while Harold has his breakthrough insight about cultivating our own garden in the face of all that is wrong in the world, all that we can not control. She retains her sly sense of humour and light touch in the narrative.

Audrey, meanwhile, has a huge secret of her own, one that she doesn't share willingly. Elder son John crashes their car, which results in a massive lawsuit; younger son Dylan is hiding drugs under his mattress and is convinced he should be an actor, never mind school. Then they find out that Harold has been a victim of identity theft with huge bills left lingering in his name everywhere possible.

Even as one thing after another happens this book remains light, clever and so entertaining. I enjoyed the way that Harold's Gift plays into the storyline and makes everything plausible. I loved the depiction of Harold's aimlessness as he nears fifty, and of Audrey's restlessness and desire for a bigger arena than the kitchen. I love the reappearance of Harold's former best friend (from the other side, of course). Even as the author makes a strong statement about how to live in this world when unexpected, illogical, difficult things happen to us, the story never takes itself too seriously. It is the story of a family muddling its way through modern life, with perhaps a few extra eccentricities, but overall very average. It also offers hope and a new way of looking at daily life in the midst of chaos. I really enjoyed this one. Having gone in to it with no expectations whatsoever, I was rewarded by an entertaining and thoroughly enjoyable read.

About the Author

Shari Lapeña worked as a lawyer and as an English teacher before turning to writing fiction. She is a graduate of The Humber School for Writers, where her mentor was David Adams Richards. Her first novel, Things Go Flying, was shortlisted for the 2009 Sunburst Award. She won the Globe and Mail’s Great Toronto Literary Project contest, and was shortlisted for the 2006 CBC Literary Awards. She lives in Toronto and is currently at work on her second novel, Happiness Economics.

(information taken directly from Shari's website...check it out)

The Day the Falls Stood Still: A Book Review

The Day the Falls stood still / Cathy Marie Buchanan
Toronto: HarperCollins, c2009

305 p.

Perhaps the title will give you a bit of a hint that this is a novel about Niagara Falls. It's a romantic tale awash in the history of the town of Niagara Falls as well as the ever-present awareness of the Falls themselves. These three strands, romance, history, and the power of nature, entwine to create a richly layered novel that was hard to put down once begun.

In 1915, our narrator Bess Heath is 17. She has just finished another year at the Loretto Academy, but discovers that she will not be returning in the fall. Her father has lost his job. This means their family has lost its financial footing as well as its status in the community. Her father now spends most of his days in a hotel bar; her mother has returned to dressmaking to bring in some cash, sewing for the women with whom she used to socialize. Bess' older sister Isabel is moody, despondent -- she won't eat or talk and stays in her room much of the time. Bess knuckles down and begins helping her mother with sewing, and doing much of the cooking and household work. But she has one bright spot amongst all this doom and gloom -- Tom Cole, a handsome working man she met on the streetcar the day she was returning from the Loretto Academy. He helped her with her trunk (an unwieldy burden for public transit!) and she can't seem to forget him. It helps that he continues to drop by with fish to sell, as an excuse to see her. Despite her mother's warnings Bess continues to foster both her own attraction to him and his reciprocal attentions.

Halfway into the story things change -- tragedy in Bess' family sends her into Tom's arms, without regard for her 'station' in life. She grows up quickly: she has to make a living as a seamstress, bear two children and see Tom go off to war. Through all this she never loses her strong, unique perspective. Even if the romantic arc of the story sounds predictable, Bess' voice makes it into a personal story rather than a cliché, of interest because it is happening to her.

There is a lot going on in this book in addition to the romance between Bess and Tom. Interspersed in the text are historical images of actual events and people of Niagara Falls, including one of William 'Red' Hill, an inspiration for the character of Tom. Hill was a famed riverman who knew the Niagara River in all its moods, and performed daring rescues more than once. Tom also has this knowledge of the river and is acknowledged by the town for his skill, but he does not dare to flaunt the river -- it must be respected. Tom also reveals an environmental consciousness; at the time this story takes place, hydro companies were just beginning to channel the river for their own electrical needs. Tom talks about the effects this is having on the mighty Niagara itself, raising issues about the environment, about corporate control of natural resources, which are still valid today. The war's effects on society in general, and specifically on Bess and Tom's family, is another element woven into this tale. The focus on the river, and on the historical facts of the developing town of Niagara Falls, creates a multitude of fascinating scenes and discussion points; I'd love to read this with a book club. All these elements come together in a moving conclusion which I must admit had me verklempt.

I was lucky enough to read this as an ARC, but it is available in bookstores as of today -- and Cathy will be here at The Indextrious Reader tomorrow to share a bit about her experiences in researching this novel. Lots of library love there!