The Reason You Walk by Wab Kinew

I first became aware of Wab Kinew when I saw the CBC TV series, The Eighth Fire.  As the host of this series on the contemporary issues of Indigenous people in Canada, Kinew brought a depth of personal experience, an urban perspective and enormous openness and charisma to our national discussion on reconciliation. The same qualities infuse his memoir, The Reason You Walk.

This memoir is rich and thoughtful.  It is not only a reflection on Kinew's life, but also explores his relationship with his father, a residential school survivor.  Much of the memoir focuses on his father's last year of life, when it was clear that he was terminally ill, and Kinew took time off work to be with his dying father.  Throughout Kinew tells the stories that brought him, his father and his family to this point.  Each vignette is vividly told, giving the reader the impression of witnessing these moments, and each ties into the broader themes of growth, understanding, family and reconciliation.

Kinew does not avoid the difficult issues, such as the impact of residential schools, the suicide crisis among young indigenous people, and conflicts over land use, but he brings to the discussion a vision of a future where we can move beyond the harms of the past, and build a better world, for both Indigenous and non-Indigenous Canadians.  Now, when reconciliation is arguably the biggest challenge our nation faces, he brings a calm voice, a deep understanding of both Indigenous and settler culture, and an expansiveness of spirit to the debate.

As Kinew describes it: "Reconciliation is action. Reconciliation is not something realized on a grand level, something that happens when a prime minister and a national chief shake hands.  It takes place at a much more individual level. Reconciliation is realized when two people come together and understand that what they share unites them and that what is different about them needs to be respected."

I would recommend this book to anyone who is seeking a deeper understanding of the need for reconciliation and anyone who wishes to understand the importance of culture and ceremony in achieving it.

Four smileys out of five: 😀😀😀😀

Norwegian by Night by Derek B. Miller

Norwegian by Night was recommended to me by a friend who rarely gets it wrong.  "It's a murder mystery," she told me, "but really it isn't." I was sufficiently intrigued to find out for myself. Yes, there is a murder, a clever female police officer, and violent drug dealing gangs, but the novel is not really about the murder. Instead it is an extended exploration on remembrance, regret and redemption.

Sheldon Horowitz is an 82 year old American, who has recently moved to Norway to live with his granddaughter after his wife passes away.  He is a bit of a curmudgeon in the tradition of too many elderly male characters in contemporary fiction. His family thinks he is suffering from dementia, but he strenuously disagrees, instead he believes "...his memories were just becoming more vivid with age. Time was folding in a new way.  Without a future, the mind turned back in on itself. That's not dementia. One might even say it's the only rational response to the inevitable." Horowitz is a veteran of the Korean War, and he might have been a highly decorated sniper or possibly a filing clerk, but either way, he still believes Korean agents are out to kill him.  Amid all this uncertainty, he suddenly finds himself rescuing a young boy from a violent domestic situation and going into hiding with the child in an unfamiliar country.

When I read the first few chapters, it reminded me of A Man Called Ove: a grumpy older man, in a Nordic country, finds himself reluctantly spending time with a child who forces him to confront his past and reevaluate his life. In both cases, the author uses witty and ironic prose and the protagonists find themselves in absurd situations. But that is where the similarities end. Norwegian by Night is a much darker tome. The ghosts that haunt Sheldon are many, and he must not only grapple with his own past and guilt but also with his rage at God. Did I mention he's Jewish? As his granddaughter tries to explain it to the Norwegian policewoman, "...he's Jewish. He's not your normal whacko. His name is Sheldon Horowitz. Can't you hear it? It's like his whole history is built right into his name."

Because the child does not speak English and is rendered mute by trauma, Sheldon is given ample room to deliver long philosophical monologues. As the author puts it "Sheldon continues speaking for both of them. Silence is not a practiced skill of his."

Sheldon's ruminations stretch far and wide, but if a single theme merges, it is the moral justifications for war and the impact combat has on soldiers. Indeed war overshadows everything from his anger at being too young to fight in World War II and avenge the Holocaust to his experiences in Korea and what he imagines his own son's experiences were in Vietnam. He argues morality, reflects on the Bible and seeks out eternal truths. He plunges deeply into the meaning of love, sacrifice, revenge and redemption. Yet throughout it all the author maintains an urgent pace, as the police, Sheldon's family, and the murderous criminals all race to be the first to find Sheldon and the boy.

If you pick this up expecting a light Norwegian murder mystery, you may be disappointed. But if you are like me and are attracted to the mystery genre because, at its best, it illuminates the eternal puzzle of good and evil, Norwegian by Night is highly recommended.

Four smileys out of five: 😀😀😀😀

Should We Change How We Vote? Edited by Andrew Potter, Daniel Weinstock, and Peter Loewen

I first became convinced that our electoral system was fatally flawed on the morning of October 26, 1993. I woke up post-election to discover that the Bloc Québécois was the official opposition even though it had less than 14% of the popular vote and had only run candidates in a single province, while the Progressive Conservative Party was reduced to two elected MPs in spite of winning over 16% of the popular vote. I decided, then and there, that a system that so distorts the public will and rewards parties focused on narrow regional interests above parties that seek a national mandate was not very "democratic" as I envisioned democracy at the time.  

That belief has been reinforced by living in PEI, where there are the two dominant parties and we often end up with a mega-majority in the legislature based on a very small variation in the popular vote, and where district races can be so close that we currently have a cabinet minister who was elected by coin-toss.  Clearly other Islanders share my concerns, as the majority who voted in a recent plebiscite favoured a proportional representative system.  The current government (which was elected with only 40.83% of the popular vote) has chosen not to honour the plebiscite.

I should also disclose that I work for the Green Party legislative office in PEI, and the party's position is in favour of eliminating first-past-the-post. Therefore I must preface my review with the following disclaimer: I have a long established position on this question and my ability to honourably continue my current employment is somewhat contingent on me maintaining that position.  But enough about me....

Should We Change How We Vote? is a collection of papers from two conferences held in the fall of 2016: one in Ottawa on October 28 and the other in Montreal on November 1. The dates are important as the papers were written when Justin Trudeau had begun consultations on his intention to act on his election promise that the 2015 election would be the last one to be run on first-past-the-post.  Since then, Trudeau has indicated that his government won't be changing the electoral system, so the urgency of the discussion has dissipated. 

Although written almost entirely by academics, the articles are, for the most part, quite accessible to a non-academic reader.  Yet, you still occasionally find yourself slogging through sentences like this: "The kind of epistemically fine-tuned vote that systems of ranked ballots allow must of course be calibrated to the epistemic carrying capacity of the electorate." I'm not entirely sure what is being said, but I feel vaguely insulted as a voter.

The volume covers a range of topics from an overview of past electoral reform attempts in Canada to the various values that must be considered in any decision, how change would impact the function and motivation of parties, the potential impact on underrepresented groups such as women, Indigenous people and visible minorities, and what is a legitimate process to implement change.

Each contributor brings his or her own perspective to the discussion, but it seemed that there was an overall preference for maintaining the status quo.  I wonder if this preference was in anyway reinforced by the fact that the federal government, at the time, seemed committed to change.  In some of the essays one could almost sense anxiety around the possibility of Canada moving to a more proportional system. Many of the contributors seemed to take the position that the problems with our current system are simply not severe enough to risk the potential unintended consequences of change.

I found some of the arguments less than inspirational and even somewhat circular.  For example, in the paper "Voter Choice and Accountability," Elizabeth Goodyear-Grant argues that the "mandate view on representation suggests that ballots cast for parties provide affirmation of their electoral platform as legislative blueprints for governing," (p.58) and the necessary post-election coalition bargaining makes it difficult for voters to know in advance which elements of a platform might be up for barter. Although this is quite true, she fails to provide an argument on why two or more parties representing the majority of the voters working together to support policy they can both agree on has a less legitimate mandate than a single party with under 40% of the popular vote imposing its platform on the majority who did not vote for it. For example I do not believe, based on his 39.47% popular vote, Trudeau had a clear mandate to impose a new electoral system. However, if he worked with and was supported by other parties such as the NDP, Greens etc,  who combined would represent the majority of voters that carries greater legitimacy.

I also discovered to my surprise that many contributors cited features of our current system as advantages, that I actually consider disadvantages.  For example, one of the primary advantages cited for first-past-the-post is its stability and efficiency.  Admittedly minority and coalition governments can be somewhat unruly, but I believe that true democracy should be a little a messy.  It should involve vigorous debate, collaboration and compromise. With the current granting of false-majorities to parties that obtain approximately 40% of the vote, we have created a system where important decisions are being made at the Cabinet table in secrecy, facile speaking points are then drafted to justify the decision and government ministers avoid any substantive debate on the issue because they know in the end their legislative majority will rule the day.  Within a less "stable" system, governing parties would need to work more closely with other parties in developing policies, justify their decisions with rational debate and evidence, and show greater respect and decorum towards opposing members. What is the value of stability if it comes at the price of omnibus bills, time allocations and other strong-arm tactics used to limit debate?

Although I did not agree with all the opinions expressed, every single paper provided excellent insights into the question and greatly deepened my understanding of the issues and the arguments to made on both sides. Although clearly not recommended for all, I believe the policy wonks in my circle would find this an invaluable resource, especially here on PEI where we are still at an impasse on how to move forward from last year's plebiscite.

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

Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel

I'll admit it was a mistake to start reading Station Eleven just before bed--I found myself awake hours later, promising I would go straight to bed after a few more pages. Eventually exhaustion won out, but I was back at it the next morning, even before my first coffee finished brewing. This is an extraordinary novel: rich, beautiful, suspenseful and thought-provoking. Imagine, if you can, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead combined with The Road and just a pinch or two of Stephen King's The Stand tossed in for flavour.

Mandel starts with a fairly typical premise: almost all of humanity is wiped out by a super-flu, and the few ragged survivors must wander a desolate and dangerous planet trying to reestablish functioning and safe communities. Yet from this fairly predictable premise, she takes the post-apocalyptic-wasteland genre to an entirely new level.

The novel begins on a snowy night in Toronto: Arthur Leander, a famous actor, dies of a heart attack on stage while performing King Lear's mad-scene on the heath.  Leander is the anchor and focal point of the novel, even though he dies of non-Apocalyptic causes just before the pandemic hits.  The novel goes backward and forward in time, showing Leander's early life, rise to fame, his many failed marriages and following the key characters in his life into their bleak post-pandemic future.

Although she never minimizes the horror of the situation, Mandel avoids portraying the more gruesome elements of survival. Much of her timeline focuses on events before the pandemic or 15 to 20 years after. Although there are many references to the terrible violent events of the first year, she does not provide details.

Station Eleven not only examines the mechanics of survival and how the breakdown of society strips bare humanity's pretence of civilization, but also considers the meaning of art in a broken society, how objects can keep us connected to each other, and how we can still be moved by beauty even when surrounded by death.  Much of the novel is set in Year 20 and follows "The Travelling Symphony": a collection of musicians and actors who traverse from town to town performing classical music and Shakespeare's plays (thus my earlier R&G are Dead reference). Their motto is "Because survival is insufficient."

Mandel captures the complexity of her characters with wisdom and compassion, but never overlooks their weaknesses. Every character feels real and authentic, and by the end of the novel they populated my inner landscape like old and dear friends. And just as the characters feel real, the world she plunges them into is both plausible and terrifying. Throughout the novel every detail rings pitch perfect, from the description of a character walking through Allan Gardens on a snowy night to the internal rivalries of the musicians in the Symphony.

I would even recommend Station Eleven to those who don't usually enjoy dystopian fiction as it is a powerful affirmation of the redemptive powers of art and human connection and a deeply satisfying novel.

Five smileys out of five: 😀😀😀😀😀

Chasing Slow by Erin Loechner

Normally I can explain how I acquired a particular title, but I must confess I am not entirely sure why I bought this book.  It has been sitting on my Kindle for a few months now, and I can't remember if I read a review or if it was recommended to me by Amazon's analytics. Needless to say, it was an impulse purchase. I love books on decluttering, simplifying, finding calm in a wired world, slowing down and living in the moment.  Last year, when I finally tackled Marie Kondo's The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up, I not only spent several months gathering and touching all my possessions, training my perfectly folded t-shirts to stand up straight, and ridding myself of vast quantities of unneeded stuff, I even divested myself of a car, a job, and (to my eternal shame) a couple of old friends that no longer "sparked joy." In other words, I come to self-help books with high expectations, and if you're not able to create "magic," I may be disappointed.

Written by "viral sensation and HGTV.com star" Erin Loechner, Chasing Slow promises to "refresh your perspective, renew your priorities and shift your focus to the journey that matters most." It sorta sounds a bit magical, and her opening sentence is a real jaw-dropper, 'I married a man with an expiration date. "Thirty," the doctor had said. "He might live to be thirty."'  Her husband Ken has an inoperable brain tumour, and that frightening fact hangs over her story.

The book is organized into 34 short chapters, with each chapter beginning with an inspirational quote, a couple of personal stories, a few bolded quotes from her own text, a random list, possibly a recipe, a math lesson (Math Lesson 001 // Trying + Failing = Learning) or a photograph.  The chapters do follow themes, but the personal stories seem to jump around, and I, for one, often felt lost on what I was supposed to take away from each chapter--even when guided by a Math Lesson.

I also spent a long time trying to figure out the genre. Is it a memoir, a self-help book, spiritual meditation, or a lifestyle magazine? Eventually I realized that it is really more like a blog, and a blog written by an online lifestyle stylist. I tried to ignore the inherent contradiction between what she does for a living and her stated purpose of turning away from society's dependence on material things and finding a deeper meaning in life.

I also quickly ascertained that she is a Christian, so many of her insights are faith-based.  For example, at one point she writes: "When we strip away every circumstantial identity-writer, mother, wife-we are left with the only identity that can never be in question: I am a woman of God." I rejoice for her faith, but it provides little guidance for those of us who constantly question the very existence of God. And perhaps more importantly, do we really want to "strip away every circumstantial identity" or should we try to more closely align those identities with our core needs, beliefs and values?

Overall, it can be an interesting read, even if it feels overstuffed with feel-good aphorisms, an oddly materialist form of spirituality, and more lifestyle tips than I was prepared to contemplate. For example, at the end of the book she provides some resources including a From A to Z-A Few Easy Changes to Slow Your Life, which includes suggestions such as Coconut Oil; Hydration; Knitting, or Something; Lavender; and Mason Jars.

Two and half out of five smileys.😊😊😶

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. 😀😀😀