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): 😀😀😀😀

House of Four by Barbara Nadel

The House of Four is the 19th title in Barbara Nadel's Inspector Ikmen mystery series. The novels are set in Istanbul, and often explore the history and culture of the city. I originally started reading them many years ago, when I was planning a holiday to Turkey. The vacation didn't pan out, but I continue to enjoy the books.

The series star is Inspector Cetin Ikman, a middle-aged Muslim police officer with secular tendencies. He is a man who understands the moral uncertain of the modern world, who is as devoted to his several pack-a-day smoking habit and his raki, as he is to his devout wife and large family. He works closely with Inspector Mehmet Suleyman, who was his young protege in the first book, but is now equal in rank and approaching middle-age himself. Unlike Ikman, whose background is humble, Suleyman comes from an old Ottoman family; he is related to Princes and retains many of the social mannerisms and attitudes of Turkey's former Imperial rulers.

As The House of Four opens, a young man who works in a carpet shop is stabbed in the Grand Bazaar, and Suleyman must close off the entire Bazaar.  Meanwhile Ikman has been called to the Asian side of the city to investigate the murder of an elderly woman in her nineties. She and her three older brothers live in a decrepit old Ottoman mansion, called locally the Devil's House.  It has been divided into four apartments, and the siblings have not seen or spoken to each other for decades. When the police try to notify her brothers of her death, they discover that all four siblings have been murdered in exactly the same way--stabbed through the heart.

Nadel is masterful at leading the reader through the complexities of these two plots, while still layering in fascinating insights into Turkey's rich past and complex contemporary situation. Throughout we learn about Germany's role fighting with the Ottomans during World War One, the precarious situation of Greeks living in Turkey, an almost forgotten Ottoman written script, and the secrets of magicians and alchemists.

Indeed, one of the most intriguing elements of Nadel's fiction is its ability to stay abreast with current affairs in Istanbul.  Previous books have included the Gezi Park protests, young men trying to join ISIS, and the rise of the AK Party.

If you like a good murder mystery or are dreaming of a vacation to the Golden City on the Bosporus or both, I would highly recommend this series.

Four smileys out of five: 😀😀😀😀

A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman

This is another book club title, but also the perfect antidote to six weeks of reading legislation and policy reviews. It is light, witty, and heartwarming.

Set in Sweden, it is, unsurprisingly, the story of a man called Ove.  What type of man is Ove? He is "the kind of man who points at people he doesn't like the look of, as if they were burglars and his forefinger a policeman's torch." He "is the sort of man who checks the status of all things by giving them a good kick." He is a man who "does things the way they're supposed to be done." He is a man who thinks that these days "...no one takes responsibility. Now it's just computers and consultants and council bigwigs going to strip clubs and selling apartment leases under the table. Tax havens and share portfolios. No one wants to work." In other words, Ove is a curmudgeon.

As the novel opens, Ove has just been laid off after working for the same company for over thirty years. He is fifty-nine years old and he realizes that the rules for success have changed and his life has not turned out the way he expected. He has a plan on how he can put things right, but first he must figure out how to get his neighbours to stop bothering him.  Whether it is the couple who just moved in across the way, who can't seem to reverse a car with a trailer without destroying Ove's letter box; or another neighbour who doesn't know how to bleed her own radiators; or the "Blond Weed" and her mutt that is always "pissing on the paving stones outside Ove's house," they are relentlessly distracting.  Poor Ove just wants to be left alone.

Of course, one assumes that when a protagonist starts out so grumpy, socially inept, and just plain crusty, the novel won't end until the readers get a glimpse of his hidden depths and secret heart of gold. Written with wit, the author has a masterful way of sketching characters, building absurd metaphors, and finding the humour in everyday social interactions. If you like to see the good in everyone, and are unafraid of a little sentimentality, this a cheerful book that will leave you smiling and feeling just a little bit more friendly towards the world.

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

Taking a short break

I will be taking the next seven weeks off from reading and reviewing books, as I focus on a busy time at work.  I expect to be back the first week of June.

Fifteen Dogs by André Alexis

This is another book club title and also this year's winner of CBC's Canada Reads competition.  In the interest of full disclosure, I must confess that I'm not terribly keen on dogs.  I know, I know. In the minds of many that makes me a monster without a soul. But let me assure you, I do have a soul: an aloof, fastidious, and somewhat languid feline soul. Fifteen Dogs is told from the perspective of self-aware and talking dogs, so forgive me if I arch my back and hiss just a tiny bit.

One day, the gods Apollo and Hermes are feeling bored and make a wager over whether animals would be "even more unhappy than humans are, if they had human intelligence." So they enter a vet clinic late at night and grant 15 dogs human intelligence.  The novel then explores how the dogs respond to this gift/ curse.

Some are frightened by these alien powers and wish to continuing living like authentic dogs, while others are delighted and want to embrace language and the new understanding that it brings.  This naturally leads to conflict, for as one traditionalist puts it: "a pack needed unity, and unity meant that all understood the world in the same way or, if not the world, the rules, at least."

Alexis endows his canine protagonists with rich personalities that are built on our expectations of particular breeds, but layered with individuality and psychological insight. So we may not be surprised that a Neapolitan Mastiff wants to lead or two young Labrador Retrievers are full of energy and conviction, but the characters are not limited to those expected roles.

The construct provides a broad canvas to explore many philosophical issues, such as the nature of happiness and love; the roles of instinct and reason in our behaviour; the basis of our religious and social structures; and the uses of violence. There is also much humour to be found in perceiving human behaviour from the perspective of the dogs for who knows us better than our long-time companions and presumptive best-friends. Spoiler alert: they may not actually love us as unconditional as we believe.

Sadly, it did not leave me with a newfound appreciation of our canine friends.  Indeed it reinforced some of my worst prejudices against dogs: that they are prone to sudden acts of aggression, willing to hump anything, and inclined to eat each others' feces (seriously, guys, that's just gross).

Rich in philosophy, humour, and fantastic characterizations--who knew beagles could be so sneaky--the story moves forward rapidly, and at times feels like a mash-up of Lord of the Flies and Watership Down.  Recommended for both dog-lovers and the rest of us.

Four smileys out of five: 😀😀😀😀