King Leary, by Paul Quarrington

As I currently make my way through the last of this year’s Canada Reads nominees, with the encouragement of the last KIRBC meeting, I thought I’d take a gander at last year’s surprise winner King Leary. Of course from a publishing point of view, it was an interesting story that demonstrates the power of Canada Reads; when King Leary was selected it was out of print, but the CBC nomination and win rocketed it into bestseller status.

Interestingly, what happens within the novel itself is pretty much the opposite, for King Leary is the story of the titular former hockey star’s descent into madness and infirmity (just like King Leary’s Shakesperian namesake). A winner of the Stephen Leacock Memorial Medal for humour, most of the novel’s humour stems from the curmudegeonly remarks of the narrator (for example: “The director has apparently been taking Hitler lessons. He is screaming at everybody and has created an atmosphere of intense hatred and mistrust. Apparently this is crucial to the making of television adverts.”) He is self-centered, caught trapped in the past, and unabashedly vociferous with his opinions. Quarrington is bang on in Quarrelsome old man mode, and this voice is what distinguishes the book and gives it authenticity.

Oscillating between present and past, Leary recounts the rise and fall of his career, along with the stories of two of his lifelong companions – Clay Clinton and Manny Oz. We know that Manny met a tragic end, and that Leary is somehow responsible.  He also goes on about his disappointments in his two sons, the gormless Clifford, and Clarence – whom he holds responsible for the end of his hockey career, when he tripped on Clarence’s truck and smashed his kneecap. Of course, any familiarity with Shakespeare’s Lear will likely encourage you to question the assignment of blame.

When Leary repeatedly speculates whether it’s possible to die of a broken heart – and though in the beginning he says it is not, as he learns more about his own life and those of his friends, he realizes that in may indeed be possible. When she recommended this book, Sarah said it had a “slam bang ending” and that’s true in fact, the ending is perfect, bringing back some of my favourite characters in the novel.

And while I did enjoy the book, I don’t think I would be its KIRBC advocate (or its Canada Reads one). But I think this may be mainly because it seemed like a watered down Barney’s Version to me (which DID, for the record, come 10 years after King Leary, and was a Canada Reads selection in 2004, but did not win). Same sort of protagonist, same questionable faculties, same cantankerous voice (though I think no one does cantankerous like Richler), same attempt to understand terrible actions in the past. Of course these two books weren’t up against one another last year, though I am sad to see it beat out Findley’s Not Wanted on the Voyage (a can-lit gem and favourite of mine). Just goes to show anything can happen. This year’s Canada Reads begins on March 2nd.

Read Full Post »

Whylah Falls, by George Elliott Clarke

My first exposure to George Elliott Clarke was when I saw him read from George & Rue at Acadia during my fourth year. But of course “read” is far too mundane a term – he performed. He breathed life into the words on the page – they jived, grooved, and swam through the auditorium. As a case in point, Whylah Falls has been released as an audio book with an original jazz score, and the book’s introduction also includes a discography of what Clarke was listening to as he wrote (everything from John Coltrane to Bob Dylan to Blue Rodeo).

Normally when I read poetry I dabble in it before bed – it takes me weeks (or sometimes months) to get through a whole book. I read Whylah Falls in two days. Part of the motivation to keep reading was that Clarke has resurrected the epic poem (with a generous tip of his hat to one of my other favourite poets, Walt Whitman). All the poems of Whylah Falls become part of a greater story – of X and Shelley’s romance, of the murder of Othello and his family’s attempt to recover. Clarke offers a dramatis personae at the beginning of the work to set up the book not as a collection of poems, but rather a family saga. In keeping with the musicality of the book, Clarke calls the epic an attempt by poets “to compose a song for their age.” And I would like to think that’s what Clarke has here for early 20th century Acadia.

Rooted in pleasure and pain, in nature and in the body, Clarke’s language is always effusive and enthusiastic. It is often colloquial in expression but lofty in sentiment. It writhes, it pulsates, it ripples and undulates. It takes many poetic forms – from tiny crystaline haikus, to prose poetry, to sonnets, to songs,  to free verse – and it makes many forms poetic – recipes, lists and letters. As much as it draws poetry out of the everyday, it also makes the everyday poetic.

Take this short poem, that so clearly illustrates the way I felt about poetry in high school:

To Pablo

In school, I hated poetry – those skinny,
Malnourished poems that professors love;
The bad grammar and dirty words that catch
In the mouth like fishhooks, tear holes in speech.
Pablo, your words are rain I run through,
Grass I sleep in.

Rather than being something pretentious and inaccessible, poetry is naturalized. It does not simply represent nature in the traditional style, but rather becomes a natural refuge. Too often poetry leaves the reader outside in the cold, offering only glimpses of something brighter within, but Clarke’s poetry invites the reader right in to a kitchen gathering full of scents, flavours and stories long forgotten. That’s not to say these are all simple poems, these poetic fields offer many strata and substrata for the ambitious to mine. Yet, the real beauty of these poems is that to read them feels like standing in a warm summer rain and letting the words wash over you.

A couple final notes: Whylah Falls was the winner of the Archibald Lampman award for poetry and a pick from the initial year of Canada Reads, whose picks for this year are announced on Tuesday.

Also, if you’d like to check it out, Whylah Falls is available as a google book, but if you like it, I encourage you to go out and buy a copy, for I think it’s something you’ll find yourself going back to for a long time.

Read Full Post »

Deafening, by Frances Itani

I finished this novel just this afternoon, and given that a large part of it is devoted to conveying the devastation of WWI, it seemed an appropriate day to read and remember.   Charles Frazier has a blurb on the back cover of the book, and I will borrow his words, since I could not do better myself.  He writes that “Itani’s writing is clear-headed and sure-handed; her characters will not leave you”.  The accuracy of his description struck me since there is indeed a competence and a clarity and an eloquence to Itani’s writing that is neither too sparse nor too overwrought.  She is lyrical without being contrived, emotional without being overly sentimental, and clear without sounding too clinical.  The result is really forceful prose that is all the more powerful for its believability.

The plot centres around a young deaf women named Grania, following her through her childhood, her education at a school for the deaf in Belleville, and her relationship and marriage to a hearing man named Jim.  When he departs to serve in the war, the story splits and follows each of their lives as they struggle through the unanticipated ferocity and magnitude of the first world war.  The metaphor of silence that the novel develops is a simple but useful one:  Grania struggles to negotiate the silence  and solitude of her world even while Jim must come to terms with the many voices silenced by the brutality and chaos of war.  So too the title, Deafening, references the fine balance between sound and silence and the forces that -either permanently or momentarily - impose silence and leave loss, chaos, and isolation in their wake.  Itani’s descriptions of the war are viscerally powerful, and they foreground the physical and mental scars the first world war inflicted on the bodies and psyches of soldiers, families, and nations.

The novel balances these tales of devastation with the love story between Jim and Grania, a story filled with hope and healing, and one that is a testament to the power of communication and potential of human connection.

Read Full Post »