14 November 2025

The Great War and Its Discontents


The Magpie
Douglas Durkin
Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1974
351 pages

Craig Forrester has received a telephone call from Mrs Gilbert Nason, wife of one of the wealthiest men in Winnipeg, inviting him to a dinner party at the family home: "no dinner party was complete nowadays without its war hero — she would promise that he would not be asked one question during the evening, about his experiences at the front — and Marion would be there to tease him — and, well, would he come?"

Craig accepts the invitation. Marion, the Nasons' daughter, does indeed tease, as when she ushers him toward another woman, whispering:

“She’s a war widow, but she’s young and — come on, you’ll see for yourself.” She took him by the hand and pulled him after her across the hall and through an open doorway into a small reception-room. Mrs. Nason got up from where she had been sitting and came forward to meet him. “So here you are!” she greeted him, extending her hand. “My, but you’re looking well! Here’s our hero, Jeannette."
The scene takes place in July 1919, eight months after the Armistice, and one month after the violent end of Winnipeg General Strike.


The promise of the post-war future is very much a topic of dinner conversation. Methodist minister Reverend George Bentley, who joins Craig and Jeanette at the Nason family table, has strong opinions about the demands of the working man:
“Unless we restore our institutions to their status of the days before the war,” Bentley declared, “there is no hope for civilization.”
   Jeannette Bawden broke through at last with a word of protest. “Why take the trouble to save it, Mr. Bentley?” she asked in her softest voice.
   Marion chuckled in spite of herself — or because she had been awaiting just such an opportunity — and was reprimanded by a look from her father.
   “Why take the trouble to save our Christian heritage?” the good gentleman asked, surprised.
   “I wasn’t aware that it was Christian,” Jeannette retorted.
   Craig caught a glance from Marion and the two exchanged furtive winks. He was beginning to like Jeannette Bawden and was pleased, for some reason or other, to find that Marion shared her views.
   “Jeannette, you heretic,” Mrs. Nason interrupted, “I’m not going to permit you to badger Mr. Bentley. Craig, can’t you talk her off the subject.”
   “On the contrary,” objected Bentley, recovering himself, “I think I rather enjoy being badgered by a woman when she is as charming as—”
Craig makes no attempt to take Jeannette Bawden off the subject, he'd much rather hear what she has to say. Craig is the Magpie of the title, so named by a colleague who'd noted his habit of listening to conversation without contributing. Invariably, another would make a point he was contemplating:
“Craigie has a nimble wit but a heavy tongue,” his father had said of him in the old days.
Craig's father died on the family farm while he was off fighting overseas. He blames himself for not having been present. The two had always been very close, and were no doubt brought closer by the early death of Craig's mother.

At twenty, Craig was sent off to university. At twenty-four, his father bought him a seat on the Winnipeg Grain Exchange as a graduation gift.

The Winnipeg Grain Exchange as it was c.1920.
Craig's office is described as being on the seventh floor.
While tense moments in the pit follow, I admit my eyes began to glaze over. Debate over barley futures wasn't for me. I was more interested in the promises that had been made working men who had brought victory. More than anything, what grabbed my interest was the reception of the returning soldier and the portrayal of women.

Mrs Nason's assurance that Craig would not be asked about his experiences at the front proved true. However, the very next month, during a second dinner, this one at the Nason summer home, he finds himself seated beside coquettish Vicky Howard:
“Don’t you think you can persuade Captain Forrester to tell us some of the heroic things he did when he was in France, Marion?” Miss Howard cooed, with her cheek touching Craig’s left shoulder.
   “I should think you could get him to do that, Vicky,” Marion suggested. “I’ve never known how to get a returned man to tell of his experiences.”
   “I’ve heard some — some perfectly wonderful stories from men who have come back — one boy in the bank —”
Vicky Howard is one of several female characters of Craig's generation in the story. Each interesting in her own way, together they reflect a jarring shift in societal expectations and social norms. The Magpie spans 1919 and 1920, a touch early for bound breasts and flapperism to have reached the Canadian prairie, though it should be noted that one of the characters has bobbed her hair. 

Marion Nason delights in her friend Jeannette's needling Reverend Bentley, whose ministry has been supported by her father and other wealthy businessmen. This, combined with her beauty, leads Craig to make her his wife. However, once she has left her father's house she becomes a different person, one who is more concerned with maintaining the lifestyle into which she was born rather than the plight of others less fortunate.

Jeannette Bawden's life has been very much changed by the war. It killed her husband. Jeanette's desire for social upheaval is fuelled in part by revenge. Jeanette will end up living in sin with an outspoken veteran who shares her newfound politics.

Vicky Howard flirts openly with Craig during that second Nason dinner and in the evening that follows. When he does not respond, she opts for a one-nighter with Claude Charnley, Craig's rival for Marion's affection. The following summer, by which time Craig has married Marion, Vicky makes an overt pass: "People don’t wonder about such things nowadays. They used to.... before the war.... but not now. They take some things for granted.....” 

Then there's Martha Lane, Craig's friend since childhood. The girl from the neighbouring farm, they'd lost touch when she went off to study sculpture in Europe. Martha's father doesn't understand her art, but takes pride in her achievement. Once she and Craig reconnect, they spend hours alone together working on an exhibition of her works. 

These young women  are so unlike those depicted in pre-Great War Canadian novels and live in a much different world. To have a man, in this case Craig Forrester, spend time alone with, say, Jeannette Bawden or Martha Lane, would've destroyed reputations.

Hodder & Stoughton ad in The Victoria Daily Times, 15 December 1923
For other characters, the post-war world is all too familiar. Craig is driving late one afternoon when he encounters Jimmy Dyer as he walks home from work. They''d served alongside each in Europe and are now, to paraphrase Neil Young, back in their Canadian prairie homes. Jimmy's is the same little green and white shack he left to fight, leaving behind his wife and children. He's a cheerful sort, until talk turns to the war: 
"They’re all doing their damnedest to forget about it. They’re sticking a few hundred of the broken ones in hospitals here and there and they’re putting in a cenotaph and a bronze tablet here and there for the fellows who won’t be back. For the rest of us they’re putting green seats in the parks where we can sit down and go over our troubles if we want to without being asked to move on. In a year’s time they’ll send us a medal with a couple of inches of coloured ribbon and a form letter and the thing will be all over. Instead of shouting ‘On to Berlin’ they’ll change it to ‘Back to Normalcy’. We’ve spent four years of the best part of our lives fighting for the big fellows, and we’ll spend the rest of our days working for them just the same as we did before the war. The only real difference is that we had a band or two and a banner or two and a chaplain or two to remind us that we were fighting for the glory of God and the brotherhood of mankind, and now we have the squalls of hungry kids and the insults of a few God damned slackers to cheer us on our way. That sums it up for me, just about.”
Contemporary reviewers really struggled with this one. Some papers merely acknowledged the novel without reviewing it. In this case, the political elements are downplayed: 

The Border Cities Star, 22 March 1924
The Magpie was first published in 1923 by Hodder & Stoughton Canada. My 1974 edition was published as number 23 in the University of Toronto Press's Social History of Canada. It was given to me by a generous reader of this blog.

I'd assumed that the novel had been in and out of print over those five decades, but I was wrong. The Magpie had been out-of-print. What's more, after the University of Toronto Press reissue, The Magpie again slipped out of print for decades, until brought back in 2018 by Invisible Press.


It can be purchased through this link.

I'd been meaning to read the novel since my days as a Canadian Studies student in the 'eighties. Its depictions of the Winnipeg General Strike made it important, or so I thought. In fact, there are no depictions of the Winnipeg General Strike in The Magpie, just as there are no depictions of the Great War. The novel is a reaction to both events. It is a novel about the aftermath of conflict, as experienced by those who were harmed and those who benefited. 

The once-silent Magpie begins to speak out.


Favourite pasage (w/ spoiler): After his chance encounter with Craig, we never see Jimmy Dyer again. Craig keeps meaning to call, but many months pass before he returns to the Dyer family's extremely modest home. On a whim, he's decided to bring along Gilbert Nason, his liberal-minded businessman father-in-law. Over tea, they learn that Jimmy is dead; he never quite recovered from his encounter with mustard gas. Gilbert Nason reacts by offering help, but is soundly rejected:
"There’s a lot of women left alone in the world — lots of them right here in this city — and some of them might take help if you offered it to them. Some of them can’t help themselves. But I can. Jimmy Dyer never took charity from anyone and he wouldn’t want his wife to take it from anyone, either. No, Mr. Nason, there are some of us who are strong enough in body to go out and work for our children and strong enough in mind, too, to do a little thinking for ourselves. Somewhere I read of what one woman made her mind up to do when she got word that her husband had been killed. She was going out to take the life of some warmaker — take it with her own hands. And that’s what the men who make war are driving us to do. They will force the women to make war on those who made war for us. We’ll go out and find the men who sit in upholstered chairs and play the game of politics and business and move the Jimmy Dyers of the world about on the checker board like so many bits of wood. We’ll find them. They killed our men. We’ll kill them. What else have we to do? We’ll dog their steps. We’ll make them afraid to go out unattended. They’ll be afraid to touch food or water for fear of being poisoned. There’ll be ways, and ways—and ways! But we’ll stop it — we’ll stop it! We’ll bring no more sons into the world for them to feed to cannons. We’ll send no more husbands out behind brass bands to spill their blood in the field. We kept the homes — the gardens — the flowers.... the poppy beds....” 
Trivia (w/ spoiler): In the final pages, Craig is forced to come to terms with the fact that from the early days of his marriage Marion has been having an affair with Claude Charnley. The last page suggests a future with Martha Lane.

Canadian Singers and Their Songs
Edward S. Caswell, ed.
Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 1919
In his own life, Durkin was the unfaithful spouse. His lover was also named Martha – Martha Ostenso – with whom he collaborated on over a dozen novels, including her 1925 bestselling debut Wild Geese. Their affair lasted over two decades, ending in marriage only after the death of his wife. 

Object and Access: My U of T Press edition is bound in black boards. The jacket design is not credited. 

Used copies of the first edition aren't nearly as dear as one might expect. Very Good and better copies of the first edition (all sans jacket) begin at $36.00. The copy to have is an inscribed and signed, offered by a Gatineau bookseller for $155.00.

The novel is available here – gratis – thanks to the faded page.

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12 November 2025

An Evening With Merrickville Authors


For those in the area, this Thursday evening I will be joining Dan Black, Bill Galbraith, Vic Suthren, Carol Williams, and moderator Omar Simonyi for a lively panel discussion on the writing life.

Hope to see you there!

11 November 2025

Remembrance Day


The son of William and Ellen Dixon, Frank Percival Dixon was born on 16 April 1898 in Elkhorn, Manitoba, not far from the Saskatchewan border. Elkhorn's population today is under 500, roughly the same as it was back then. His parents were a farming couple. Frank, the family's fifth child, was one of eight children, Winona and Gertrude being the only girls.

Four days before the Christmas of 1916, Frank Dixon travelled to Winnipeg to enlist in the Canadian Over-Seas Expeditionary Force. He was eighteen at the time.


His first known poem was written three days later:


Two months after that, he provided a will, leaving everything to his mother.


Frank Dixon's early wartime verse, particularly that composed in Canada, deal largely with romantic notions of the adventure that awaits overseas or humour found in his situation, as in his 26 March 1917 poem 'Sackville':
                    The army life in Sackville,
                    Let me convince you all,
                    Is playing hide and seek with mumps,
                    And we'll play the game till fall.

                    One man gets the mumps and then
                    We stay here just to see
                    If there won't be another case
                    To get our sympathy.
On 22 April 1917, Dixon arrived in Liverpool aboard the S.S. Canada


Dixon wrote about this in the poem 'From Liverpool to Shorncliffe.' His overseas experiences inspired dozens of poems, many of them quite detailed. Consider the first stanza of 'An Air Raid in England,' written on 26 May 1917:
                    It was six twenty-five in the evening,
                       On the twenty-fifth of May:
                    We were quietly enjoying the coolness
                       After a long and sultry day.
The next month, he reached France:


Come 1918, Dixon's views on the war had shifted. Romance had been replaced by rage, regret, realization, and cynicism: 



"Home" is the most frequently used noun in Dixon's 1918 poems; the second is "mother":


On 29 August 1918, Frank Dixon succumbed to injuries received in combat. His remains lie in Ligny-St Flochel British Cemetery, Pas de Calais, France.


In 1937, as war clouds were again gathering over Europe, Frank's mother Ellen self-published a slim volume consisting of forty-five poems and fragments written by her son in the twenty months between the day he enlisted and the day he died.


This is her foreword:

 

A mother's love.

08 November 2025

Wild Geese on Film (Part 3): After the Harvest

The only film adaptation of Wild Geese released during my lifetime, yet I missed its airing on 4 March 2001.

I was the father of a toddler at time.


After the Harvest was a made-for-TV movie. A part of Baton Broadcasting's Canadian Literature Initiative, a very slim, very small bone thrown so as to get the okay for its takeover of CTV. The corporation promised all of one million dollars spread over two years to encourage independent productions. What followed were adaptations of Anna Porter's The Bookfair Murders, the Gail Bowen mysteries Deadly Appearances and Murder at the Mendel, and Murder Most Likely, which was based on the Michael Harris book The Judas Kiss.

The Porter and Bowen books were murder mysteries, Harris's was an investigation into a corrupt RCMP officer who in 1983 tossed his wife off the 17th-storey balcony of their Toronto condo. All four were published in the 'nineties.

Wild Geese, which features no murder, was a seven-decade-old novel. When first published it sat on store shelves alongside Bliss Carman and E. Barrington, not John Grisham and Daniel Steele. 

Detail of a Henry Morgan & Co ad, Montreal Gazette, 19 November 1925.
After the Harvest was by far the best received of the Canadian Literature Initiative films. Watching it today, it is easy to see why.


The first thing that strikes is the look, which captures the beauty of the Canadian West, using natural lighting to full effect. There are shots that look  like paintings come to life. Cinematographer Gregory Middleton would go on to PasschendaeleThe Watchmen, and Game of Thrones.


Care was taken in costuming, sets, and pretty much everything else, farm machinery included. 


Added to these are extraordinary performances. One expects as much from Sam Shepard, who is perfectly cast as tyrannical, yet dispassionate Caleb Gare.  That stare! He commands nearly every scene, as the story demands. Liane Balaband, who plays Lind Archer, is another standout. Her role as "the Teacher" is somewhat greater than in the novel, though I do think CTV's promo reel exaggerates the character's influence:


Finally, there's the script. I've left this for the end because, by necessity, spoilers will follow. Anyone coming fresh to Wild Geese may wish to skip to the After the Harvest YouTube link below.

Read the book, see the movie, and remember they do not tell the exact same story.


According to a Sandra Martin piece in the 3 March 2001 edition of the Globe & Mail, screenwriter Suzette Couture first read Ostenso's novel after having been given a copy by Maggie Siggins when working on the film adaptation of A Canadian Tragedy: JoAnne and Colin Thatcher. Like me, she was hooked.

Couture makes changes in bringing Wild Geese to the screen, but in ways that will, with few exceptions, pass unnoticed by all but the most recent or most familiar reader.

The first words are uttered by Judith Gare, played by Nadia Litz, as she lies seemingly naked in a wheat field:

"I've heard it said that there is one moment in life when we're happy and the rest is spent remembering."


In the second scene, Lind Archer stands alone by the side of a dirt road trying to hail a ride. John Tobacco, who is passing on a horse-drawn wagon, stops:
LIND: I was just dropped here, they wouldn't take me any further. I'm expected...

John says nothing.

LIND: ... at Caleb Gare's?

JOHN: No one goes up that road.

LIND: Then why do you?

JOHN: I go everywhere. I deliver the mail.
So much of the novel is contained in this exchange, so much of the mood is set, and yet like Judith Gare's opening monologue it doesn't feature in the novel.

There's the cinematography, the attention to detail, and the acting, but what impresses most is Couture's script. Her dialogue does much to rein in the novel's length, as in this exchange between Lind and Judith:
JUDITH: Caleb's father farmed this land. We're born to it, to live here and die here. It's just the way it is.

LIND: And your mother? She never takes your side with him?

JUDITH: She doesn't care. Not for any of us.

LIND: You really believe that?

JUDITH: What's it to you anyway?

LIND: You don't know me. You don't know anything about me.

JUDITH: Tell me then.

LIND: The man who was supposed to marry me left.

JUDITH: I've heard worse.

LIND: My father's dead.

JUDITH: I call that lucky.
This is another scene that does not appear in the novel, but it is easy to be fooled in that it fits so perfectly.


Couture provides Lind with a backstory. That she's Catholic explains why she does not join Caleb in services at Yellow Post's church.

Very clever.

I don't mean to suggest that I'm all in on After the Harvest

As in Ruf der Wildgänse, the 1961 Austrian-German adaptation, Amelia tells Mark Jordan (inexplicably renamed Jordan Sinclair), that she is his mother. This never happens in the novel. I see no reason to do so aside from the resulting drama. It is indeed tear inducing.


The much criticized ending of Wild Geese is just as contentious in this adaptation. Here Caleb survives the fire to be met with his wife in the final scene. I don't know that it is the perfect ending, but it is superior. Because I think the scene worth watching, I won't quote the dialogue. It begins at the ninety minute mark, pretty much right down to the second, and is just about the best thing I've ever seen from a Canadian television production. 

The film can be seen in it's entirety on on Youtube (for now, at least):


Watch it while you can.

I recommend it highly.

Related post:

04 November 2025

Wild Geese on Film (Part 2): Ruf der Wildgänse


The second of three addendums to the recent post about Martha Ostenso's 1925 bestselling novel.

It's hard to know what to make of Ruf der Wildgänse, the 1961 Austrian-German film adaptation of Wild Geese; it comes and goes from YouTube, but never with subtitles. Because I know no German, some of what I have to say about the movie may be mistaken, particularly as I'm relying on memory.

We begin with the opening credits, which features the most disorganized flock of Canada geese I've ever seen. 


For those unfamiliar with the bird, this is more typical.


For those really unfamiliar, Canada geese look nothing like the drawings featured on the cover of the 1952 Deutsche Hausbücherei edition:


Back to the movie:

The first scene is extremely exciting. The year is 1886. Three men in red jackets and what look to be Prussian helmets ride in pursuit of a young man and woman through the dark forests of Manitoba. There's a good amount of gunfire. At least one of the men in red is hit and the man being chased is shot dead.


Who are the men in red?

No idea.

Why are they after the couple?

Ditto.

The important thing is that the woman, Amelia Jasper (Regine Felden-Hatheyer), is captured and receives a prison sentence. From what I've been able to glean, she gives birth to a son while incarcerated. The boy, whom she names after his father Mark Jordan, is seized and handed over to missionaries. 

I expect Amelia is released at some point because the next we see she's wandering about the countryside in search of shelter. She finds it in the home of Caleb Gare (Ewald Balser).


Cut to the sunny summer of 1910.


Amelia's dramatic, violent backstory owes its existence entirely to screenwriters Alf Teichs and Per Schwenzen. From this point on Ruf der Wildgänse adheres more closely to its source material. Nearly all of the primary and secondary characters are present, the exception being schoolteacher Lind Archer. Given her influence on Amelia's daughter Judith, this seems a mistake, but who am I to judge? Again, I don't know German. It may have been a stroke of genius.

Those planning to read Wild Geese may want to stop here. There will be spoilers.

In Ruf der Wildgänse the role of schoolteacher is assigned to Mrs Sanbro (Brigitte Horney). As in the novel, her son Sven (Horst Janson) and Judith Marisa Mell) have something going on, but work has taken him away from his family's farm. In Ruf der Wildgänse, Caleb intercepts letters the young man writes to his daughter. The apparent silence leads Judith to believe that Sven isn't as into her as she is in him.

Enter handsome Mark Jordan (Hans Neubert), who in this version of the story is a surveyor sent to map out the area. Caleb sees the unexpected appearance of Amelia's secret love child as a tool to be used for further control and humiliation, and so he invites Mark to visit. This move has unintended consequences, sending the film of in a direction that makes it an uncomfortable first date movie.


Mark falls in love with Judith, who he doesn't know is his half-sister. He wants her to be his wife and shares his intention with the woman he doesn't know is his mother. Amelia (played as an older woman by Heidemarie Hatheyer) puts a stop to all this in a great reveal.


From here the plot is more or less back on track, culminating in the fiery death of Caleb, thus liberating the rest of the Gare family. In the final scene, Judith and Sven ride off... but not into the sunset.

There's much more to Ruf der Wildgänse, of course. I've yet to mention that Sven is a singing cowboy. If interested, you can enjoy him break into song in the trailer.

 

The character Malcolm, described in the novel as having "Indian blood in his veins," is a subject of further study. Ellen's love interest, he's played by Ray Maa, an actor with no other credits on IMDb.


Then there's the presence of firearms, which do not figure in Martha Ostenso's novel.


Finally, there's the matter of typography and geographical features.


Ruf der Wildgänse was shot almost entirely in Canada, but this sure as hell ain't Manitoba:


The film's German-language Wikipedia entry informs that after her incarceration Amelia is exiled from Manitoba, suggesting that the screenwriters knew nothing about Canadian law.

It would appear poor Amelia crossed well over one thousand kilometres of Canadian prairie before being taken in by Caleb. 

Go west, young woman.


I've watched Ruf der Wildgänse twice. Next time I chance upon it on YouTube I'll watch it a third time. 

Here's hoping there are subtitles.


01 November 2025

Wild Geese on Film (Part 1): Wild Geese

Released in the autumn of 1927, Wild Geese is a lost silent film, though you wouldn't know it looking at the IMDb entry:


My thinking is that the star ratings concern the novel; it's either that or they were left a couple of decades back by computer savvy centenarians who remembered the film from when they were young. 

Montreal Gazette, 21 May 1928
I doubt the latter is true, but let's pretend.

What would they have seen?


I've had to rely on ninety-eight-year-old reviews, none of which are terribly long or contain much detail. The one published in the 7 December 1927 edition of Variety is the most interesting:


The reference to a "Minnesota household" intrigues. The novel is set in the fictional farming community of Oeland, which is generally accepted to be in the very real province of Manitoba. 


Judging from surviving stills, "poor wig outfitting" seems fair.


Eve Southern played Judith Gare. That's Anita Stewart as Lind Archer on the right. Of the cast, Russell Simpson, who portrayed Caleb Gare, is hands down the best remembered today. He was cast as Pa Joad in John Ford's The Grapes of Wrath.

Russell Simpson as Caleb Gare and Belle Bennett as wife Amelia in Wild Geese 
The reviewer makes no mention of the film's ending, but others do. Apparently, it isn't nearly so positive as Ostenso's.

Returning to those IMDb ratings, I note that no one left an actual review. My thinking is that the one star ratings were left by frustrated high school students looking for a shortcut. This and other Goodreads reviews suggest as much.


And so, this anecdote:

In 1985, I work part-time in a Montreal video store. For context, this was the year in which Betamax was suffering death throes. Come autumn, kids who'd previously rented Ghostbusters, Gremlins, Nightmare on Elm Street, and Risky Business abruptly shifted focus to The Natural, the 1984 Barry Levinson film about a middle aged has been who becomes a baseball legend. Set in the early twentieth century, 48-year-old Robert Redford played the lead.


The sudden demand caught the store's owners off-guard. We had eight copies of The Breakfast Club and nearly as many of Police Academy but just one of The Natural. As it turned out, students in nearby Bialik High School had been assigned the Bernard Malamud novel upon which the film is based. 

A young man not much older than the kids I was serving, I'd seen The Natural. Much as I like Levinson and Redford, I did not like their collaboration. My issue was wasn't so much with the body rather the ending, which is diametrically opposed to Malamud's perfect, perfectly depressing conclusion. 

It's also very over the top.


Let this be a lesson, kids.

Read the book.

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