REVIEW: REMAINS OF THE DAY

Surveying plot points in his critical introduction to the 25th Anniversary Edition of Kazuo Ishiguro’s The Remains of the Day, Salmon Rushdie, seeming almost to deny the novel’s 1989 Man Booker Prize win, muses that “[n]othing much happens.” Indeed, the ostensible “high point” of Mr. Stevens’s solitary motor tour into the West Country of early Postwar Britain, suggests Rushdie, is his failed attempt to resolve a “professional matter” by persuading Darlington Hall’s former housekeeper, Miss Kenton (now Mrs. Benn), to resume her prewar post: an overworked butler is unable to relieve a household staff shortage. In short, quips Rushdie, “tiny events.”

The narrative’s surface quietude, however, provides the perfect counterpoint to this story’s muddied depths, just as the cautious formality of Stevens’s travelling clothes serves to accentuate the unseemly disorder into which his servant’s affections have fallen; similarly, the recollection of his father’s pitiful death within a dingy garret must needs be confined behind the simultaneous farewell dinner of Lord Darlington’s “unofficial,” and, as history will soon show, misguided international conference in the softened brilliance of the banqueting hall below. Stevens thereby remembers his grief as little more than cause for employer displeasure. Quickly wiping away his tears, this consummate butler laughs, apologizes. “The strains of a hard day,” he explains. The juxtaposition is devastating.

As physical spaces embody the psychological, Stevens’s movement away from the great house and towards unknown, albeit picturesque country sites, signifies his faint attempt to apprehend something as yet half-imagined and uncertain within himself. Ishiguro’s novel is the portrait of a man who has placed his faith in a way of life that is losing what remains of its former dignity; the codes of reverential service and patronage that undergird the household domestic’s raison d’être have begun to destabilize in view of the traditional oligarchs’ demotion to “gentleman amateurs.” The lately voiceless butler begins to feel, at least subconsciously, the waste born of a choking subjugation. A few rare “off duty” hours’ study of a sentimental romance novel have taken the place of true affection and relationship; even Miss Kenton, Stevens’s closest acquaintance, is observed struggling to release the thin volume from his grasp.

“While it is all very well to talk of ‘turning points,’” affirms Stevens, “one can surely only recognize such moments in retrospect. … [T]here [is] surely nothing to indicate … that such evidently small incidents would render whole dreams forever irredeemable.” To speculate otherwise, he posits, is folly. However, the act of retrospection itself necessitates a mining of the past for such veiled “turning points,” as if one were attempting to account for life’s trajectory; which “tiny events” were, well, not so very tiny after all? When was a look misinterpreted, or a cold word miscalculated? Who mattered most? And what truly remains of the day?

Though a bit of a heel, Abigail Slinger is learning that patience is a virtue, and that one catches more flies with honey.

REVIEW: UP GHOST RIVER

The all-seasons beauty and gifts of the Albany River provides a life-affirming backdrop to the colonial cruelty that Edmund Metatawabin reflects on in Up Ghost River: A Chief’s journey through the turbulent waters of native history. What Metatawabin manages to do in this book is reveal his resolve, despite pernicious abuse, to tell his own heartwrenching story and thereby carry many of his St. Anne residential school sufferers with him to the raised consciousness of anyone who reads Up Ghost River.

Metatawabin writes with a deep, sweet honesty about lifelong struggles with the residential school and its everlasting effects. With dignity and fortitude, Metatawabin makes a very difficult subject rise up from the muck of hurtful memories while he shares with us the transformative power of love.

If you want to really get to know the struggle of North Eastern Ontario’s James Bay lowlands Cree as they try to uphold and renew their indigenous values and way of life, read this book. If you want to learn more about our interconnectedness with the flora and fauna of the natural world, read this book. And if you are craving something to feel good about, if you want to read a story about hope and perseverance, Edmund Metatawabin delivers. His unpretentious honesty, understated humour and rediscovered confidence combine in a sharing of personal and societal truths that cannot be denied.
 
Metatawabin ends his book with thoughtful suggestions as to how all of us, together, can effect change. Whatever your passion for political and social justice, there is a way to get involved.

- Lori Ryan Gray

REVIEW: AFTERWORLDS

I have been a fan of Scott Westerfeld ever since I picked up the immensely entertaining Leviathan trilogy. When I heard that he was coming out with something new, I got excited. And I wasn't disappointed. Afterworlds is a fun little novel – or rather, two fun little novel. It's a peculiar book that is split into two halves. One is a story about a girl named Lizzie who gains the ability to travel between the worlds of the living and the dead. The other half is about a girl in our world, Darcy who wrote the novel about Lizzie. In essence, it reads almost like two distinct books, so I shall discuss it as such.

The first half, the 'real-world' aspect, is a lot of fun. Nothing really big-scope happens; there's no world to save, no villain to defeat, no crisis to avert. It is just Darcy going through the process of getting her novel published. As someone who hopes to get their own novel published sometime within the next couple of years, I found it interesting and refreshing. There are moments of humour, moments of stress, moments of indecision -- everything a budding author goes through. There are clever touches in it discussing the Lizzie half of Afterworlds; what the character should do next, where she should go. Some of these do find their way into the Lizzie half; Darcy will decide she likes the sound of a particular word, for example, and in the next chapter Lizzie will find herself using it. It's a very good way of connecting the two halves and one I enjoyed.

The Lizzie half of the book is less good. It is ostensibly a novel written by an eighteen-year-old, and I do give credit to Westerfeld for making it seem as though it actually was. Though this lends credence to the Darcy half, it does detract from Westerfeld's normally fun writing. There are several weak cliches present in the Lizzie half, in particular the character of Yamaraj, a three-thousand-year-old boy whom Lizzie falls in love with. Sadly, since the Lizzie half of the book is told in first person, we scarcely get to know Yamaraj for more than his good looks and rippling muscles, and reading constant repetitions of them gets tiring fast, since his personality isn't very developed to compensate. It does follow the familiar pattern of a YA novel -- identifiable heroine, basic good versus evil climax, and rushed romance -- but o me it just feels like an essay that was written the night before it was due.

I would recommend Afterworlds solely on the basis of the Darcy half of the book. It is constructed so that it can very nearly stand alone from the Lizzie half. And it does have fun moments and interesting thoughts on the publishing process, which is useful to know for those planning on publishing. All in all, not Westerfeld's best work, but one that can be enjoyed as a quick read nonetheless.

Robert Green is a confirmed bibliophile and aspiring writer whose love of sci-fi has caused him to own many more books than he has physical room for. He is also the owner and creator of the up-and-coming company Verity Books, which can be seen at various cons throughout the year. Any questions or comments can be sent to veritybooksanddvds@gmail.com or facebook.com/veritybooksanddvds.

ON COLVILLE

During my first year of art college, I moved into a plushy apartment coloured in pastels. The one piece of décor that seemed out of place was a framed print of Alex Colville’s Horse and Train hanging in the living room. To say that it was juxtaposed to its surroundings would be an understatement. Then immersed in superhero comic books, I never considered that the image, or the Colville's body of work, would go on to affect me the way it has.

Completed in 1954, Colville has described Horse and Train as “the skeleton key to all my paintings." It was inspired by lines of prose by South African poet Roy Campbell (1901-1957): “Against a regiment, I oppose a brain / And a dark horse against an iron train”. The horse is turned away from the viewer, inviting the audience to project themselves and their empathy onto it. It becomes an Everyman: a student in Tiananmen Square, a force of Nature opposing an industrial revolution, a general symbol of subversity and struggle. Not only is the image easy to identify with, it is perhaps impossible not to.

A new book has come out on Colville, little more than a year after his death and serving as accompaniment to an exhibit at the AGO. Both book and exhibit are ambitious in that they strive to nail down exactly what gives the artwork such wide appeal. Comparisons are made, correctly, to the writing of Alice Munro. Both creators are essentially telling short stories of small town living, yet speaking with a more worldly perspective. There are parallels made with film as well, with examples that suggest filmmakers lift from Colville, like Wes Anderson in Moonrise Kingdom, or simply share a similar visual palette, such as the Cohen brothers. (Curiously omitted is Michael Mann’s Heat, in which there is an unmistakable tip of the hat to Colville’s Pacific in a scene with Robert De Niro.) And while works of two of Colville’s former students, Mary Pratt and Christopher Pratt, are on display alongside their late teacher at the AGO, little mention is made of the giant sphere of influence he has had on countless painters. I, myself, am one of those countless; I have found it impossible to create my own work without leaning on his influence, sometimes to a fault.

Pacific vs Heat

Doubtless, one could publish a book solely on all the artistic works which bear the Colville stamp, and, thankfully, this isn’t it. This most recent publication is, quite simply, beautiful to look at. The text is concise and one could make a strong argument that the images themselves were made to be read. For all of the accuracy and geometry behind them, the qualities that captivate us most are those of context, narrative, and the “intrinsic symbolism” that Colville was concerned with. The reproductions of the work are as perfect as one could hope for, with colours and crispness being surpassed only by the originals. Roughly half of Colville’s entire body of work was selected for this book. Beautiful photographs of his centennial coins grace the inside covers. We are also treated to intimate glimpses into the life he shared with his late wife, Rhoda, who served as model and muse for so many of his paintings.

Author-curator Andrew Hunter has implied that he wanted to ensure the lasting relevance of Colville’s images. It is doubtful that the Canadian public needed to be convinced of this at all. It is, however, highly probable that the same public will be grateful for the effort.

- David Caesar

REVIEW: EGG AND SPOON

The musical Wicked has captured international attention and fame since its début. What audiences may not know is that the musical was based on the series of Wicked books by author Gregory Maguire. Egg and Spoon, Maguire’s latest novel, is a fairy tale in the same vein. However, readers expecting a heartwarming children’s story will be surprised to discover Maguire’s literary prowess. Egg and Spoon is unexpectedly shrewd, intricate, and philosophical, taking the reader on a journey that defies both expectation and convention.

Egg and Spoon is a rather different fairy tale. Part fantasy, part reality, the novel is “officially” set in what appears to be late 19th century Russia. Historical figures such as Fabergé, Rasputin, and an unidentified Tsar occasionally make cameo appearances. The novel is a complex intersection of human lives and Russian mythology. At the core, we have Elena and Cat, two girls at opposite ends of the economic spectrum who switch lives. Their mistaken identities set in motion an adventure which involves Russia’s greatest magical guests: a hilariously modern Baba Yaga, an ice dragon, and an enigmatic Firebird. Throughout the novel, Maguire dispenses idiosyncratic tidbits of wacky wisdom and moving scenes of forgiveness and reconciliation that add an unexpected but welcome depth to the story. It is a novel of discovery, coming of age, humanity, children, loss, and the bizarre. Above all, it is a novel that is unabashedly quirky, charming, and fun.

Egg and Spoon’s fairy tale premise is deceptively simple. However, its scope is as vast as Russia’s landscape and the imagery is dynamic and fantastical. Matryoshka dolls, talking animals, snow-swept cliffs, and multi-coloured gowns abound, whisking the reader to a world that is stunning in its conception. Who knows if Baba Yaga is real or if Firebirds still lay eggs? After reading Egg and Spoon, Maguire’s masterful writing convinces us that at the very least, the magic of storytelling and great writing are certainly still very real.

Mike Fan is a Chinese-Canadian classical baritone. Mike plays five instruments and speaks three languages (with a few in progress). He holds degrees in piano performance and biomedical science, but it was obvious from an early age that music would win out. On the literary side, Mike wrote 365 sonnets in his teens and writes for his poetry blog someturbidnight.blogspot.ca. Follow @MikeZFan for Mike's adventures, musical and otherwise.

REVIEW: HOW TO BUILD A GIRL

The debut novel from English broadcaster Caitlin Moran is the coming of age story of 14 year old Johanna Morrigan, who lives with her family in a council house in Wolverhampton. After shaming herself on local television, she decides to re-invent herself as Dolly Wilde, music reviewer for a national music paper. This is the story of how she achieves her goals, grows up, and finally starts living her life. 

For anyone who has been an adolescent girl, this book will strike a chord! Moran gives us an inside view of an adolescent girl's hopes, dreams and aspirations, and the impatience that goes with those lofty yearnings. When you’re 14 years old, you suddenly realize that life is passing you by. When will it be your turn to be in the spotlight? Your parents telling you that you have to grow into yourself doesn’t make sense, and so you try to hurry the process along. This is the basis of Moran’s book, and she captures the essence of the time and sensations exactly right.

Growing up in Britain in the Maggie Thatcher days in an industrial wasteland, with unemployment at an all-time high, and alcoholism on the rise, was not an easy time. This is the world of Johanna, her four siblings, her long-suffering mother trying to make ends meet, and her alcoholic, washed-up musician, on-the-dole father. But everyone had access to the local library where books and music tapes could be taken out at no cost. The story of Johanna, her struggles and determination to make a path for herself are brilliantly written and communicated to the reader. I laughed out loud while reading this book, and I would recommend it to anyone who has adolescent daughters and wishes to gain an insight into their lives, or people who  love coming-of-age stories brilliantly written!

- Catherine McGratton

REVIEW: OPERATION SHAKESPEARE

Operation Shakespeare is an engaging thriller that delves into the murky and dangerous underworld of the black market arms trade. It starts in the streets and alleys of a city near Baghdad, Iraq, where the members of Outkast Patrol confront the explosive proliferation of IEDs planted by Taliban insurgents. IEDs have killed or injured thousands of soldiers on patrol in Iraq; a troubling irony is that many of these devices are manufactured with control circuits containing US electronic parts, illegally sourced through intermediaries by Iran and smuggled into the field in Iraq.

Author John Shiffman has written a tightly interwoven and superbly crafted thriller that spans the globe. A complex web of entanglements stretches between Iran, Iraq, Germany, Switzerland Dubai, Georgia, Canada, the UK and the United States. Spies, government officials, bankers, brokers, shippers and warehousing firms conspire to enable rogue regimes to acquire classified military technology, weapons, electronics and whole vehicles, including airplanes, Humvees and helicopters. What is most astonishing about Operation Shakespeare, however, is that while it reads like the kind of thriller you would normally expect from Tom Clancy or John Le Carré, every word is true.

In 2009, John Shiffman was a reporter with the Philadelphia Inquirer. He was one of the reporters who broke the story of an international sting that resulted in the arrest of an Iranian national lured to Georgia and subsequently deported to the United States to face charges of violating laws prohibiting the export of military technology. Amir Ardebili was one of hundreds of Iranian brokers actively engaged in circumventing export restrictions to procure technology on behalf of the Iranian military, negotiating for the purchase of millions of dollars of radar equipment, airplane parts, night vision technology, gyroscopes and computer chips. He leveraged money brokers to route funds through banks in Germany and Switzerland, and arranged transhipments through free ports like Dubai and Georgia, in a complex effort to circumvent trade embargoes and conceal Iran as the ultimate purchaser.

In writing Operation Shakespeare, John Shiffman has done a masterful job of researching the events that led up to the arrest of Ardebili. He conducted numerous interviews with virtually every major player, from US government sources to Ardebili himself. He takes the reader inside the investigation, the sting and the ultimate arrest of a major player in the black market arms trade. Shiffman does a masterful job of describing the shadow world of the black market as it actually exists, and illustrating how prohibited transactions leverage deception, duplicity, ignorance and a willing blind eye to fuel a market worth hundreds of millions of dollars. What I most enjoyed is how Shiffman has leveraged extensive research and interviews to paint a vivid picture of actual events that is more complex and intriguing—and ultimately more disturbing because of it—than some of the best fictional thrillers. 

If you enjoy your thrillers with more than a grain of plausibility, or are curious about the extensive machinations involved in sustaining conflicts on the world stage, then Operation Shakespeare is definitely worth the read.

Mark Mullaly is an avid reader, sometimes writer, enthusiastic motorcyclist and lover of wine (and endeavours to engage in only one of these pursuits at any given time).