The Handover by Elaine Dewar

The subtitle of The Handover provides a much better synopsis of the book than I can: How Bigwigs and Bureaucrats Transferred Canada's Best Publisher and the Best Part of Our Literary Heritage to a Foreign Multinational. The publisher she is referring to is, of course, the legendary McClelland & Stewart (M&S), publisher of such literary heavy-weights as Margaret Atwood, Leonard Cohen, Michael Ondaatje, Alice Munro, Rohinton Mistry, Anne Michaels, and so many other renowned Canadian authors.

If you have taken an active interest in Canadian publishing you probably already know the story of how real estate developer, Avie Bennett, rescued M&S from potential bankruptcy in the mid-1980s, privately financed and ran it for fifteen years, and then donated 75% of the company to the University of Toronto, selling the remaining 25% to international publisher Random House. However the story of the backroom deals, the amounts of money involved and how M&S eventually fell under the complete control of Random House, has been hidden in secrecy until now.

I worked on contract as Senior Publicist for M&S for one tumultuous year in the mid-2000s. It was just after Doug Pepper replaced Doug Gibson as President and Publisher, and during my time there the office was moved from their long established location on University Avenue in Toronto and the marketing and publicity functions were assumed by Random House staff.  I remember the day Doug Pepper called the publicity team into his office to inform us that we were about to become employees of Random House and report to their Vice-President of Marketing. So for me The Handover triggered strong memories, reminding me of former industry colleagues, and finally explaining many of the backroom machinations that we on the front-lines had speculated and gossiped about but never really understood.

The Handover can be read on many different levels. At its core it is a detective story on how one investigative journalist tried to track down the truth about the handover of M&S after being alerted by an anonymous source that the deal was not all it had appeared to be.  But it also provides a sweeping overview of Canadian publishing from the late 1980s to the present: covering such pivotal events as Indigo's takeover of Chapters, the implementation of the Pegasus warehouse, the destabilizing impacts of Costco, Amazon and Walmart, and the Stoddart bankruptcy.  On a third level it is an exploration of Canada's protectionist cultural policies and how they can be side-stepped and whether they are still serving a function.

During one interview with the author, Avie Bennett warned, "This is a book no one will read. I say [that] as a publisher."  Bennett did have a point; this story will fascinate publishing and media insiders, but probably not achieve mass popularity.  However, it is perhaps the perfect book for me, with my publishing background, policy wonk tendencies, and love of a good mystery. I was even fascinated by how her many Freedom of Information requests were handled, as I was at one time a provincial FOIPP coordinator.  The Handover is clearly not for everyone, but still highly recommended.

Four smileys out of five: 😀😀😀😀

The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah

The Nightingale was another book club selection. Set in occupied France, it tells the story of two sisters trying to survive and stay true to their beliefs.  One sister, Vianne, is conventional, married with a child, whose husband has gone to war.  The other sister, Isabelle, is highly unconventional. Even before the war, her approach to life was defiant and impulsive.  The two sisters have not been close since their mother died when they were children, and the war both pushes them together and tears them apart, as they struggle to find a common understanding about what can be compromised to survive and protect their loved ones.

The Nightingale brings to the fore the experiences of women during the occupation.  With most men in the army, the small communities in the countryside are populated mostly with women and children, the old and infirm, and the occupying army. The author makes the reader acutely aware of their vulnerability, often focusing on small domestic details like the daily struggle to obtain scant food rations.  But the novel also tries to capture the broad sweeping history of those years, from the chaotic exodus of Paris at the start of the occupation to the Resistance's work rescuing downed Allied pilots trapped behind enemy lines.

The author is ambitious, and her ambition may outstrip her abilities.  There is an element of skimming the surface in her writing. The characters fall into predictable stereotypes, and the plotting is both clunky and wildly implausible at times. The story wobbles uncertainly between trying to be a serious war novel and an overblown historical romance.  And although she does describe events in great detail, her fictional world never feels truly authentic. I wanted to engage more fully, but I was never able to achieve the requisite suspension of disbelief.

It reminded me of a lesser version of Irène Némirovsky's Suite française, covering many of the same incidents and themes. Of course, Némirovsky was living through the occupation as she wrote her work, and did not survive the war to finish it, so it is perhaps an unfair comparison.  

Upon finishing The Nightingale, I did not feel inspired to read other novels by Hannah, instead I felt a longing to re-read Suite française.

Three smileys out of five. 😀😀😀

What I Learned about Politics by Graham Steele

This is another excellent title that will primarily interest those who are passionate about politics. It was recommended to me by my boss, and as I am nothing if not a consummate suck-up, I immediately picked up a copy and read it. Turns out my boss makes great recommendations*

What I Learned about Politics is also a good companion volume to last week's What is Government Good At? While Donald Savoie looked at the dysfunctions of our democracy from an academic perspective, Graham Steele explores similar territory through the lens of an elected Nova Scotia MLA who served in opposition, the government backbench and Cabinet.

This is the ultimate insider's view of provincial politics, told with honesty, cynicism, and a surprising amount of self-awareness and good cheer.  He tells the story of his own political education from his early years as a backroom researcher for the NDP to the spectacular defeat of Darrel Dexter's NDP government in 2013. He details how he won his first nomination and election in Halifax Fairview; the role of the MLA; the nature of constituency work; the electoral victory in 2009 that brought the NDP to power; his work as a cabinet minister; his dramatic resignation from cabinet and subsequent reappointment; and his decision to leave politics.

For anyone even slightly interested in the day-to-day reality of an elected official, this book will be fascinating, covering both the rewards and frustrations of his role. Throughout he explains the rules of the game and why things are so difficult to change.

Best of all, Steele doesn't pull his punches, so I compiled a few of my favourite Steeleisms to share.

On the legislature: I have never worked in a place as thoroughly dysfunctional as the Nova Scotia legislature. Fifty-one grown-ups act in ways that, if repeated in their private lives, would end their personal relationships, and if repeated in other workplaces, would get them fired.

On platforms: Platforms are marketing documents, designed strictly to win votes. They are not serious attempts to come to grips with policy, nor are they financially realistic.

On reform: The parties manufacture differences for election purposes, then once they become government, they face the same challenges, options, and constraints as the last government, which leads to remarkably similar decisions.

On the dangers of working in politics: Being in politics makes you dumber, and the longer you're in politics, the dumber you get.  That's because you learn habits of behaviour and speech that serve political purposes but are at odds with the way normal people think and talk.

This sampling of quotes may leave you with an impression that Steele's outlook is bleak, but that is not true. If anything, he brings back an awareness of the important individual human element that is a powerful counterpoint to the grinding mechanism of political process.  But even with well-meaning and sincere leaders, we cannot expect the process to be self-correcting.  "It is not our politicians who will lead the change. The only person who can change our politics is the engaged citizen."

So if you are interested in being that engaged citizen who will demand better from the people who govern us, a good way to start would be reading What I Learned About Politics.  It will enlighten, enrage and engage.

Four smileys out of five: 😀😀😀😀

*Did you note the seamless double suck-up there, just in case he's reading?

What is Government Good At? by Donald J. Savoie

I picked this up shortly after it was published in 2015, but never managed to finish it.  I started eagerly, but then reached a point where my day-to-day frustrations working in government were being described so accurately and framed as global problems in the current practice of governing, that I got discouraged and eventually gave up: first the book and then the job.

However, I recently noted that the author has published a new title, Looking for Bootstraps: Economic Development in the Maritimes, which looks really interesting. But I have this little rule...I am not allowed to get a new book, if I have not yet finished an earlier book by the same author that is in my collection.  So I went back to What is Government Good At?: A Canadian Answer with new determination and the fresh perspective of someone who now works in an opposition office. And I am glad I did.

In some ways What is Government Good At? provides a history of the rise and fall of public confidence in government from the post-World War II period when the public believed that government could solve all the big problems, to today when there is widespread public disdain for the government's ability to provide public services: a disdain that is often encouraged by our own politicians. Throughout Savoie points out both the social and political evolution over the past seventy years and its impact on how we are governed.  Although he primarily focuses on the federal government, his work applies equally well to provincial governments.

One of the Savoie's central premises is that government functions on two levels: above the fault line and below the fault line.  Power resides above the fault line, and the main goals there are to generate new policy, manage the blame game, avoid risk, respond to the priorities of the Prime Minister, keep ministers on message, and interpret it all through the lens of how to win the next election. Below the fault line is the day-to-day operations of government: the administration and implementation of policy. These days there seems to be a growing disconnect between those above and those below the fault line. Those above do not have the time--and do not consider it their job-- to engage in implementation, yet are unable or unwilling to delegate decision-making power below the fault-line. This disconnect then creates a situation where "public servants below the line will continue to attend meetings, exchange documents, and prepare briefing notes in the hope that some day someone above the line takes an interest." In that sentence, Savoie summed up about 57% of my frustration with my former job.

Unfortunately, it also creates a "a disbelief culture below the fault line--the view that no reform from above will stick or work. Thus, when reforms are announced, public servants downstairs simply go through the motions of implementation, convinced that this is just another passing fad that will soon die out, and things will shortly get back to normal. The instinct is to batten down the hatches and wait out the passing storm, knowing that those above the fault line and the authors of the latest reform efforts will soon be pursuing other priorities."

Savoie points out many of the factors that have led to this situation, including: the breakdown of social cohesion as communities have abandoned organized religion; the increased influence of the courts in the Charter era; the power of lobbyists; the centralization of power in the Prime Minister/Premier's office; the tendency of managers in government to manage up and ignore what is happening below them; the natural bureaucratic impulse to accumulate more staff and larger budgets; the 24 hour news cycle; the development of the never-ending election cycle; politicians who serve their party ahead of their constituents; and apathy and disengagement among the electorate.

Throughout Savoie provides provocative insights into why so many people, both inside and outside of government, are frustrated by the status quo, and much of it rings true to my own experience working within government.  If you have even a passing interest in learning more about how we ended up with the systems we have, and how some changes can be made to improve governance, this would be an excellent starting point.

Four and a half smileys out of five. 😀😀😀😀😶

The Thirst by Jo Nesbo

I must confess a certain ambivalence to Jo Nesbo's Harry Hole series that goes well beyond the rather naughty associations encouraged by the protagonist's name or the unjustified impression he creates that Norway is a country overwhelmed with mass murder and mayhem.

I first discovered Nesbo around ten years ago when two titles, The Redbreast and The Devil's Star, were first translated into English.  I was captivated by his intricate plotting, well-developed characters, astute psychological insights, plausible red herrings and wonderful turn of phrase.  There was a depth and understanding that made Nesbo my second favourite author of police procedurals, after Ian Rankin. So, whenever a new Nesbo is released in English, I immediately clear my schedule.

The most recently released title is The Thirst, the eleventh book in the series.  Harry has given up police work to teach at the Police College.  He is sober, happily married, and feeling for the first time contentment and happiness.  What could possibly go wrong? Maybe a new serial killer stalking the streets of Oslo.  The killer seems to be using the dating website Tinder and kills his victims using prosthetic iron teeth and then drinking their blood.  Harry is called in to help, initially refusing to cooperate, but then changing his mind when certain elements of the crimes seem familiar to him.  It may turn out that this is not a new killer, but one that Harry has crossed paths with in the past, one who bested Harry, the only one who got away.

The novel lives up to all I have come to expect from Nesbo: a plot with lots of twists and turns, nuanced characters with secrets in their past which may or may not relate to the killer, red herrings a plenty, generous servings of suspense, and a fluid prose style that carries you along as if you were rafting down a swift moving river.

Unfortunately, I find the novel marred by the source of my ambivalence: the violence.  I know, I know, the whole point of murder mysteries is to explore how individuals and societies respond to violence.  It is why I enjoy the genre so much.  But in recent years, the violence seems to be escalating, as if there is a competition to see how many new and depraved ways a serial killer can torture, maim or dispatch his (it usually is a his) victims.  There is also a deep vein of misogyny as the victims are usually women and the killers are often sexually motivated. I fear that Nesbo has fallen into the trap of trying to crank up the gore with each outing.

So here I sit, ambivalent: a little uncomfortable with my own guilty pleasure, unwilling to fully endorse one of my favourite authors, but still unable to turn away from the most recent "Harry Hole."

Four smileys out of five (but only if you don't object to a bit of sadism): 😀😀😀😀