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: 😀😀😀😀

When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi

I bought this book shortly after it was published and must confess that it has taken me almost a year to have the courage to actually read it.  It is the first-person memoir of a brilliant young neurosurgeon who, shortly before completing his residency at the age of 36, was diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer.

The book terrified me because my sister had been a brilliant oncologist who, at the height of her professional accomplishments, died of cancer less than a week after her 51^st birthday.  Although I was with her throughout her journey, it has still remained a puzzle to me how a physician—someone who has spent her career either curing cancer or easing the suffering of those who would not survive—could face her own terminal diagnosis.  My sister and I didn’t talk much about her mental or spiritual state, but she would answer any medical questions with a clinical precision that eventually left me unwilling to ask too much. I have always felt that maybe I failed her.  How could I comfort and care for her if I never dared probe the fears and doubts she left unspoken under her mask of professional detachment?

So I hoped this book would provide me with an opportunity to peak behind that mask. It did not.  Dr. Kalanithi’s experience was very different than my sister’s.  He was diagnosed with stage IV cancer  so knew that it was probably terminal from the beginning.  My sister’s cancer crept up on her, proving to be resistant to surgery and chemo before it became apparent that it would be terminal.

That being said this is an enormously powerful memoir. Part one of the book describes his early life, the influences that led him to a career in medicine and his training.  Much of this section talks about his interest in mind, neuroscience and identity, and how he learned to manage the enormous responsibility of making life and death decisions as well as his strategies for coping when nothing could save his patients. Part two describes his life and actions after his diagnosis. 

Throughout he addresses issues of mortality not just from the perspective of a physician, but also from that of a philosopher and a student of literature who had spend much of his far too brief life struggling to understand the meaning of individual existence.

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