Are old Canadian books not considered summer reads? I ask because the number of reviews this past season fell far short of what I expected. This isn't to suggest that they weren't invaluable. I don't think I'd ever heard of Philippe La Ferrière before reading about him in Jean-Louis Lessard's July Laurentiana review of Philtres et poisons. Olman of Olman's 50 was good enough to share his thoughts Terence M. Green's 1988 novel Barking Dogs. I'd been meaning to read it since... well, 1988 (I'm not quite so keen now). Radhika of Radhika's Reading Retreat reviewed A Jest of God, reviving memories of the first time I read Margaret Laurence.
I read and reviewed six old, out-of-print, and pretty much forgotten Canadian books this past summer, my favourite being Arcadian Adventures With the Idle Rich. I laughed out loud.
A Fair Affair Paul Champagne Winnipeg: Greywood, 1967 190 pages
The Canadian Government has reason to believe there is a vast conspiracy working to sabotage Expo 67. This being the summer '66 and James Bond being all the rage, stylish Serville Gart is brought in expose and defeat the villains. After all, why send in a team when, as Hollywood has shown, the right man can readily handle the job himself. As newly-minted Secret Service Agent 18 dash 67 (irritatingly, never simply "18-67"), Gart receives his assignment in a Privy Council Chamber meeting attended by various government ministers, Quebec government officials, the Mayor of Montreal, and Expo's Commissioner General.
Why Serville Gart?
Well, to begin with the man served in the Canadian Army Special Services and earned a Victoria Cross during the Korean War in rescuing fallen comrades and "single-handedly grenading a North Korean pillbox." A university swimming and wrestling champ, he was scouted by both CFL and NHL teams and once declined a hockey scholarship offered by an American college. Lest you dismiss Gart as all braun and no brain, he is also a chess master and accomplished pianist with two scholarly books to his name.
From the start, it's clear that Gart has the goods. During the Privy Council Chamber meeting he notes something suspicious about an attache case carried by a man named Conrad, aide to the Minster of Finance. Minutes later, Conrad, who has proven himself a baddie, is lying dead with a broken neck in his Centre Block office. Conrad's innocent teenage secretary suffered a bullet to the shoulder, and is whisked off the Ottawa Civic Hospital. Our hero follows:
Gart's TR4 sped off Parliament Hill to Wellington Street. He was not sure which route would be quickest to the Civic Hospital. Some roads had been torn up by construction while others had been patched so often that they resembled backwoods hunting trails. He wondered if the Nation's Capital would ever do anything about them. He decided to take Wellington, then south on Bronson. He would turn left on to six-lane Carling Avenue and continue straight out to the hospital. At the hospital he parked his car on the emergency parking area in front of the old red building. While approaching the main entrance, he admired the colourful 12x35 feet mosaic tile mural beside it. Gart recalled that the abstract work is meant to depict the various systems of the human body and was donated by the Ottawa Civic Hospital Architectural Association. It was created by an Italian craftsman who placed the two million cut stones by hand. He pushed open the glass doors and strode to the reception desk. After he identified himself, the nurse buzzed a young intern, who led Gart to the elevator. They both got on. Gart could not help noticing the pretty but efficient-looking nurse who shared the elevator with them. He mused that patients – men anyway – would probably heal much more quickly if nurses like her would wear uniforms which were not quite so, well, starchingly official.
The elevator doors hummed open at the third floor and they all got off. The nurse turned to the right. Gart and the intern to the left; the intern kept looking right. They reached the appropriate room and the intern said, "Well, here we are Mr. Gart, Room 365-F," and walked briskly away. Gart walked into the room. The doctor was sitting alongside the girl's table. When he saw Gart, he got up and greeted him.
A first time novelist, Champagne has real problems with pacing and needless digression, the former being particularly lethal in the thriller genre.
About those digressions – here I myself digress – one gets the sense that the author is keen on including his own observations. This too features driving:
Gart drove on Carling Avenue until he spotted a "Queensway East" exit, then sped around the turn exceeding the 30 m.p.h. ramp speed by 15 m.p.h. He slowed down to let a car pass on the outside lane. He held the little sports car at seventy-five. He could see a black and white Ottawa Police car approaching on the other side of the boulevard. He recalled that for a while the City officials had thought of painting them a bright orange – an experiment. Gart thought they probably did not adopt the suggestion because a policeman from Ontario would not let a French-Canadian ride in an orange squad-car.
Given Champagne's political background (see below), the most interesting of these are five-pages of memorable campaign quips made by John Diefenbaker the "Opposition Leader" in a past election as recalled by Gart.
To be clear, that's five pages devoted to entirely irrelevant statements made by a politician during an irrelevant election campaign that occurred years previous. The Opposition Leader never appears in the novel.
Returning to the plot, microfilm of the Canadian Pavilion's blueprints are found in the Conrad's trouser cuff. Gart's investigation leads to international steel corporation Uni-Dom, which is supplying much of the material used at Expo. Uni-Dom is headed by a man known only as "Center," who is also the mastermind behind the conspiracy. Remembering the dead man's pants, my first thought was that the plan had something to do with the supports of the pavilion. Imagine one failing! This old postcard will give some idea of the disaster that might befall:
But no, the sabotage in play is far more complex and expansive. Uni-Dom is just one component of something called the Association of Insular Degaussity. The name of this highly secretive organization –unknown to all secret service agencies – comes courtesy of Endico Novak, an operative who has worked her way into the Expo offices. A Hungarian whose family fled after the 1956 revolution, she has mixed feelings about AID and mixed emotions about Gart. The two take to bed, but what he really wants is for Endico to reveal less of her body and more about the conspiracy.
And so, two days into their relationship, he slaps her around.
Endico tells him what he wants to know, sharing information about a hidden submarine base off the Gulf of St Lawrence and a secret three-acre compound beneath the Expo site housing hundreds of trained martial artists and millions of lethal shadflies.
With the aid of scuba gear, Gart infiltrates the hidden base, commandeers a sub, and enters the secret three-acre compound, only to be caught and brought to Center.
In true Bond villain fashion, Center provides a lengthy, detailed explantation of the conspiracy and its purpose.
Here we get the first of two elements that render this otherwise botched thriller noteworthy.
Center tells Gart that AID is funded by Europeans who are concerned that Canada is flexing its muscle as a soft power. Blame Lester B. Pearson, I suppose. Their concern is that Canada has broken from the Old Country and is setting off on an independent course that will leave it vulnerable to American influence and annexation, thus creating political imbalance. The thinking goes that the humiliation of so grand a project as Expo would put an end to Canada's aspirations.*
The second, which is far more interesting, concerns Endico Novak. She clearly has feelings for Gart, and seemed on the verge of sharing everything she knew about AID when he hit her. In the end, she betrays him for that very reason. He hit her.
Center sends Gart off to a death that involves those lethal shadflies. He's taken to a sealed room where every two minutes increasing numbers are released. To give him a sporting chance, Gart is provided a newspaper to swat them. I like to think it's the Montreal Star; it usually had more pages than the Gazette.
Agent 18 dash 67 manages to escape, of course.
The final pages are the best because they feature the most action. The last sees Gart leaving bickering politicos in Privy Council Chambers "with a warm understanding and smile which said that while there are many frailties in this system of government, it is still the best."
Mine was the smile of a man who was happy to be done with this thing, yet also happy that he'd read it.
* Two comments:
1) Canada's stance during the Vietnam War and Pearson's 2 April 1965 address at Temple University don't lend credence to AID's concerns, but then Champagne was a Tory who supported maintaining the Union Jack on our flag.
2) That Center is not "Centre" suggests a further layer to the conspiracy, one I don't believe the author intended.
Worst passage: Longtime readers know how much I enjoy good dialogue. In this A Fair Affair fails – not so much as He Shall Return, but it is very bad. The worst comes from Expo's Commissioner General, a man who comes off like Lorenzo St. DuBois in The Producers. Here he responds to a comment made by the Minister of Finance before before assembled federal ministers and provincial office holders:
"Minny, Minny. Like, honey-baby, we're all hip to your cool efficiency. We love your pads, we love your pencils; we love your pitcher and glasses; as a matter of fact, we even love that vase of Saskatchewan lillies [sic] over there – that was expansive man expansive..."
It goes on, but I feel I've tortured enough with those detailed descriptions of Gart driving through the streets of Ottawa.
For the record, the Commissioner General of Expo was career diplomat Paul Dupuy (1896-1969). Here he is at the fair with Grace Kelly and her daughter Caroline.
Trivia: Born and raised on the Island of Montreal, I never once heard mention of shadflies and am not sure that I've ever seen one. That said, research informs that they were a concern of Expo organizers. The shadfly, which in truth is harmless, looks nothing like the cover depiction provided by Jack Jenson and Mark Shop.
More trivia: Thus far, the only novel I've found that references the Brothers-In-Law (mentioned here previously). This comes in the form of a complaint made by a RCMP colonel about this song:
After the Mountain City Four, the Brothers-In-Law are my very favourite Canadian folk quartet.
Even more trivia: Throughout the novel, Expo is referred to as "EXPO." I can't begin to tell you how irritating this becomes.
The critics rave?: The closest thing I've found to a review of A Fair Affair was published in the 23 September 1967 edition of the Globe & Mail, in which William French remarks on the launch of Greywood Publishing:
The first two titles are A Fair Affair by Paul Champagne, and Canada in Caricature by George Shane. Champagne's book is an Ottawa-based secret-agent send-up about a sinister organization that wants to sabotage Expo. It's really quite bad.
The back cover features what appear to be excerpts of reviews by gentlemen then writing for Time, the Globe & Mail, and the New York Times, but I have yet to find evidence that the words quoted ever appeared in those publications.
About the author: Born in 1936, Champagne was was raised in Melville, Saskatchewan. He attended the Syracuse University. Up to the time of the novel's publication, his working life involved the federal Progressive Conservative Party, much of it as a member of John Diefenbaker's staff. He served as the leader's press secretary during the ill-fated 1965 federal campaign. Here he is with Dief in the pages of the Edmonton Journal (11 September 1964).
Or maybe not. The man identified doesn't resemble one on the back cover of A Fair Affair, nor does he look twenty-eight (as Champagne was at the time).
In September 1967, the month after the novel was published, Champagne worked against his old boss in an effort to elect Davie Fulton as Progressive Conservative Leader. Following Fulton's defeat, he soon found himself working for successful candidate Robert Stanfield. For how long, I wonder? After 1968, when he would've been in his early thirties, the trail grows very cold.
I'm sure there is more to discover.
Object and Access: A mass market paperback, typical of its time, my copy was purchased last summer from a Manitoba bookseller. At $5.00, it was a real steal. Printed only once, in August 1967, as I write no copies are listed for sale online.
The last page features two ads for "Other Greywood Paperback Originals," Winnipeg editorial cartoonist George Shane's Canada in Caricature being the first.
The second is My Most Unforgettable Convicts by Dr Leo L. Stanley, who despite having no surgical experience served forty-eight years as Chief Surgeon at California's San Quentin State Prison. How it ended up with a start-up paperback publisher in Winnipeg is anyone's guess. Mine is that no other publisher would touch it.
A dangerous kook, Stanley believed that crime caused disease. He transplanted testicles from executed prisoners and other mammals to living inmates in the belief that they would not only reverse the aging process but cure acne, asthma, and pedophilia. Stanley performed over 10,000 testicular implants on prisoners and injected ground-up testicles into the abdomens of others. He forcibly sterilized homosexual inmates. Stanley was a staunch believer in racial segregation and eugenics, writing: "The right to bear children will in time be reserved to the fit,"
Leo L. Stanley died in 1976 at the age of ninety. He was, of course, childless.
Evil, but nowhere near so evil as Robert F. Kennedy, Jr.
Laura Secord was born 250 years ago today. She was the very first figure in Canadian history I knew by name, though family lore has it that I referred to her as "Laursecord." As a toddler, I was given a Laura Secord truck. My mother was a dedicated Laura Secord customer.
I was an adult before discovering that the company bearing her name has nothing to do with the woman or her family, nor had I been aware that she born in Great Barrington, Massachusetts. That town has no monument to Laura Secord, which is not surprising as she played a key role in the American defeat in the War of 1812.
In this land adverse to mythologizing, Laura Secord's name is legend. Much verse has been written in her honour, most of it in the nineteenth century, much of it quite long. My favourite is this relatively short piece from the last century found in Jean Blewett’s Poems (Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 1922).
LAURA SECORD
I search the pages of our history over For a courageous one whose name would stand For staunchest patriot, and for truest lover, And prove the same by deed done for the land; And my heart thrills, for ’tis a woman bears it, You’ll find it, marble carved, on Laura Secord’s grave; And you, and I, and every woman shares it, The right to stand for what is good and brave.
352 pages Carnac Grier is the second son of Quebec lumber baron John Grier. Unlike elder brother Fabian, and much to his father's consternation, he has no passion for the business. Carnac seems so different from the rest of the family; he's not exactly a black sheep, but there is cause for concern. You see, since an early age the boy has devoted himself to art. He both paints and sculpts. We're told that art is everything to him, though this isn't entirely true. Carnac is also interested in politics, and will one day defeat one of the province's most accomplished and powerful politicians to take a seat in the Legislative Assembly. There's also pretty Junia Shale, of whom he's quite fond. Here she is accompanying Carnac on the campaign trail:
Junia is smart as a whip, as recognized by John Grier. He would've hired her in a moment had she been born male. The girl shows more interest in the family business than Carnac ever does. Yet, there will come a time when, through his own pigheadedness, John puts the firm in some jeopardy. Carnac will help his father and prove himself adept in righting the ship, but then return to his art. John will never forgive his son for that.
Carnac's Folly is not Parker's finest novel. Those who make it to the end will remember it – perhaps not – as a story of a strong-willed young man whose path is guided by his nature. Like other Parker novels, the ending is neatly tied up, and yet I was confused.
What exactly was Carnac's folly?
Was it his pursuit of a career in art, thus foregoing a share in the family business worth millions? Did it have something to do with his impetuous decision to run for election against the most formidable foe in the province? Or might it be something I missed about his relationship with Junia Shale.
I think it's worth noting the title Carnac's Folly is exclusively American. In Canada and the United Kingdom, the novel appeared as simply Carnac.
Returning to the issue at hand, what was Carnac's folly?
The front flap of my Lippincott first American edition provided the answer:
By a strange piece of folly, Carnac's career is almost wrecked and and his love for beautiful Junia Shale brought to naught. While Junia wonders and waits, Carnac struggles desperately against the consequences of his act and also unknown to himself against a family heritage of hate.
Got it.
Early in the the novel, Carnac leaves his Montreal family home and sets out to make something of himself in New York. He takes a studio near Washington Square, befriends other artists, and begins painting scenes of the Bowery and the city's nightlife. To paraphrase the omniscient narrator, life was nearly as continental as was possible in a new country.
One day, while walking along Broadway, he saves a young woman from certain death by pulling her from the path of an oncoming streetcar. She is Luzanne Larue, "a fascinating girl with fine black eyes, black hair, a complexion of cream."
Luzanne looks to befriend her rescuer, as I expect is common in these sorts of situations. For his part, Carnac recognizes that what with her black eyes, black hair, and complexion of cream, Luzanne would make a very fine subject for a very fine portrait.
Luzanne Larue, as imagined by illustrator Walter Lauderback.
With her father Isel's permission, the two share many an enjoyable morning together, Luzanne sitting with hair down and neck bared as Carnac stands at his easel. When comes the day the portrait is completed, Luzanne grows wistful. She is by now very much in love with Carnac and wants him for a husband. Her father, a French national who lives in exile after having conspired to overthrow the government, sees great benefit in having so well positioned a son-in-law. And so, he conspires with a pal to trick the artist into marriage.
Their scheme is laughable, but as it worked I won't be sharing it here. Who knows what damage that could cause.
Because alcohol is involved, Carnac at first has no idea what's going on. Fortunately, he sobers up enough to recognize the conspiracy before it, um, achieves consummation. He abandons his bride outside the Manhattan hotel at which they were to have spent their first night together, never to see her again. The following morning, he consults a lawyer who informs him that the whole thing is too much to be believed.
Because it is.
Carnac's marriage to Luzanne hangs over much of the rest of the novel. He worries that it might be discovered and used against him during his electoral run. More than this – much more than this – it affects his relationship with Junia. She has loved Carnac since they were childhood playmates, and cannot understand why he is now so troubled and aloof.
Why won't he share?
It's a question that women have echoed throughout the centuries.
"Every woman has an idea where a man ought to make love to her, and this open road certainly ain't the place."
Trivia:The Lippincott front flap errs in referring to Carmac Grier as "Carmac Greer." The rear flap pitches The Gland Stealers by Bertram Gayton, a "comedy of to-day" about a grandpa who believes monkey glands provide the elixir of life.
Object: An attractive book bound in red boards with four plates by American artist Walter Lauderback (aka Walt S. Lauderback; 1887-1941). The jacket illustration, which appears to have been tweaked from the hotel exterior scene above, better captures the mood.
Access: The American first edition, I purchased my copy earlier this year from a Michigan bookseller. Price: US$20. As is too often the case, I paid much more in shipping.
As I write, eleven Lippincott copies are listed online, beginning at US$5.00. The high end is held by a Nevado bookseller who offers a signed copy at US$214.50. Were it not for the US$47.50 shipping fee I'd recommend the former.
My edition can be read online here – gratis– thanks to the Internet Archive and the University of Toronto's Robarts Library.
A writer, ghostwriter, écrivain public, literary historian and bibliophile, I'm the author of Character Parts: Who's Really Who in CanLit (Knopf, 2003), and A Gentleman of Pleasure: One Life of John Glassco, Poet, Translator, Memoirist and Pornographer (McGill-Queen's UP, 2011; shortlisted for the Gabrielle Roy Prize). I've edited over a dozen books, including The Heart Accepts It All: Selected Letters of John Glassco (Véhicule, 2013) and George Fetherling's The Writing Life: Journals 1975-2005 (McGill-Queen's UP, 2013). I currently serve as series editor for Ricochet Books and am a contributing editor for Canadian Notes & Queries. My most recent book is The Dusty Bookcase (Biblioasis, 2017), a collection of revised and expanded reviews first published here and elsewhere.
