A Gypsy in the Jazz Age; Or, Reader Meet Author

Eyes of a Gypsy
John Murray Gibbon
Toronto: Macmillan of Canada, 1926
255 pages

This past Saturday marked the sesquicentennial of John Murray Gibbon's birth. That this aging Canadian Studies and English Literature graduate first learned of him only ten years ago seems absurd. For goodness sake, the man coined the term "Canadian Mosaic."

Two years have passed since I first read Gibbon's third novel, Pagan Love, which I've described as the most remarkable, unconventional, and challenging Canadian novel of the 'twenties. Eyes of a Gypsy was Gibbon's fourth novel. Could it possibly live up to expectation?

I was won over in the early pages set on the good ship Alaric. Twenty-two-year-old Maurice Arden is our hero. An artist, he comes from a long line of commercial printers who have for generations scraped by in supplying cards, pamphlets, posters, and packaging for other businesses in and around Manhattan. As his father's only son, Maurice is set to inherit the struggle, and could not be more unhappy at the prospect. 

The recent discovery of Tutankhamun's tomb having made Egypt all the rage, Maurice had left Manhattan – and fiancée Gladys in boozy Greenwich Village jazz clubs – for the ancient, dry Valley of the King. There he'd been inspired to create works that should prove profitable. Who knows, one might be used on the cover of a chocolate box. 

And now Maurice is on his way home.

The Alaric isn't a grand liner, but it's what the family firm can afford. All glamour and elegance is supplied by fellow passenger Jacqueline Stuart, an uncommonly beautiful woman of Scots/Romani heritage, always "two steps ahead of Vogue," who appears each evening at the Captain's Table. Maurice learns the captain is a cousin, which explains her passage on so modest a vessel.

Last year's twenty-four Dusty Bookcase reads included one, two, three, four novels in which maritime accidents feature, so it came as no surprise that the Alaric strikes the hull of an overturned ship and begins to take on water.

Of the five maritime disasters, the sinking of the Alaric is the least catastrophic. No one dies. No one is hurt. No one gets wet. More anxious for his paintings than he is his soul, Maurice sets foot in the last lifeboat. At the moment it is about to be is lowered, he is joined by Jacqueline:

"What the hell! thundered the officer. "How wasn't she sent off with the first boats?"

   "My fault entirely," explained the lady with dazzling teeth and an accent surprisingly Scotch. "I do hate to be hurried. This 'women and children first' business can be overdone. Doesn't give us a chance to ready for this world or the next."

Their bob on the ocean is not long – they are soon rescued by the passing Belladonna – but it is long enough for Maurice to become smitten. And who can blame him. The banter they exchange reveals Jacqueline to be witty, confident, clever, and full of life. Her reasons for visiting the Old World had nothing to do with Egyptomania, rather a scandal involving a United States senator. What happened exactly is uncertain – the novel offers three differing accounts – though all rely on the glamazon's talent as a fortune teller to New York's high society.

Two ships that might otherwise have passed in the night, the Alaric and Belladonna have passengers who know one another. It's a small world after all. In Jacqueline's case, it's the senator. For Maurice, it's his friend Kenneth MacLean, an architect from the Canadian west who is traveling with his sister Peggie, herself a painter.

Eyes of a Gypsy seems a simple novel, but isn't. The introduction of Peggie (page 28) suggests formula. Blonde, pretty, wholesome, innocent, she stands in stark contrast with the dark, beautiful, sophisticated, worldly-wise Jacqueline. Skipping ahead seventy-two pages, we get this: 

The Scots-Canadian girl brought nature, the beloved mother. Jacqueline filled his dreams with more tempestuous emotions. 

And so, a love triangle.

Yes, a triangle, because Gladys is no longer in the picture. After the Belladonna docks, Maurice is told that his father has just died, and is handed what may be the greatest "Dear John" letter in all of Canadian literature:

This reader began settling in. I've read enough novels with love triangles to know that resolution typically occurs in the penultimate chapter.

I should have known better.

Eyes of a Gypsy does not follow a conventional path because these are not conventional characters. Moreover, Gibbon is not a conventional writer.

Time, events, relationships, and scenes move quickly in this novel.

In short weeks, Maurice manages to turn the family firm around. Peggie and Kenneth make a brief visit to friends in Montreal, return to New York, rent a studio, but are soon off to their parents' home in the Kootenays. Jacqueline follows, because her Romani blood is drawn to great expanses, but also to because the senator threatens. This leaves Maurice all alone, until Peggie invites him to visit.

Montreal, 1926

Once in Canada, the novel slows considerably. Plot and personages give way to loving descriptions of settings, the first being Montreal, the city in which the author spent most of his working life. The descriptions of the Kootenays, more lengthy, are accompanied by digressions on folk music, folk tales, trail riding, and First Nations culture.

It is a book the can be divided neatly in two. The first fourteen chapters have something in common with Pagan Love in that they deal with art, commerce, advertising, influence, and polished sophistication, but breaks in the last twelve which focus on the relatively simple lives and lore of those who rely on the land. That I prefer the first part says something about me. Both say much about Gibbon life – read Daniel R. Meister's Canadian Encyclopedia entry and see!

Two months ago, I won a copy of the author's first book Hearts and Faces (New York: Lane, 1916) at auction. It's set in the Bohemian Paris in which he'd studied art. I look forward to reading it and perhaps getting to know a bit more about the man, but am I wrong in wanting more about Gladys?

Favourite line: Early in the novel, a catty passenger on the Alaric says this of Jacqueline.

"If she can show us as much of the future as she does of her back, she is a wonder all right."

Dedication:

By great coincidence, my wife owns a copy of Ethel Watts Mumford's Hand-Reading Today: A New Angle of an Ancient Science (New York: Stokes, 1925), which she bought after reading Diana Souhami's The Trials of Radcliffe Hall (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1997). The latter is one of the best literary biographies I have ever read.

New Broadway Magazine (June 1908)

Object and Access: An orange hardcover, typical of its time, I purchased my copy in 2023 from an Ontario bookseller. Price: $21.00. Sadly, it lacks the dust jacket (which I've never seen).

As I write this, just one copy, also jacket-less, is listed for sale online. Price: $66.00. 

Get it while you can.

Related post:

Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Self-Improvement

The Nine Best Canadian Novels of the 1920s

Thomas D'Arcy McGee: 200 Years

Thomas D'Arcy McGee

13 April 1825, Carlingford, County Louth, Ireland

7 April 1868, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada

RIP

Related posts:

'O Martyr'd McGee!'

D'Arcy McGee's Query (with a response)

D'Arcy McGee, All Compliment to Thee

'Death of D'Arcy McGee'

'IN MEMORIAM! The Hon. T.D. McGee'

Remembering Edith Eaton and D'Arcy McGee

'Erin's Address to the Hon. Thomas D'Arcy McGee'

A Poet's Angry Words for the Fenian Brotherhood

'Mort de Thomas D'Arcy McGee'
Thomas D'Arcy McGee: 150 Years

The Great Gatsby: 100 years

I was on my lunch break when I first read of Jay Gatsby's death. This was in the back room of the Rockland Centre Sam the Record Man. Twenty-one, I was in charge of the singles department.

The description, as imagined by Nick, is so subtle that the tragedy passed without me seeing it. In my old Bantam edition it begins and ends on a single page. I returned to the beginning because I couldn't quite believe it.

I write about Canadian literature. The Great Gatsby is not a Canadian novel, but it but it is my favourite novel. 

On this, the one hundredth anniversary of its publication, it is only right to recognize it.

I didn't realise that you wrote poetry. I didn't realise you wrote such bloody awful poetry

Say what you will about Satan, he's no dummy.

I think I'm right about this, but am not sure.

He had no place in my family's place of worship. I never once heard mention of the Prince of Darkness in church school, confirmation class or even a sermon. This could have something to do with having been raised Anglican.

I am not sure.

My early reading on Satan was extremely limited. It began in October 1974 with 'The Ecchorcist,' MAD magazine's parody of The Exorcist, continued with Joy Carroll's horror romance Satan's Bell (1976), and more or less ended with novelizations of the films The Omen (1976) and Damien:The Omen II (1978).

Since beginning the exploration that is the Dusty Bookcase, I've learned a bit more about Beelzebub through American expat Jules-Paul Tardivel. He believed novels to be "weapons forged by Satan himself for the destruction of mankind," but seized one of "the enemy's war machines" in writing Pour la patrie (1895). Set in the far off future of 1945, the devil is very much present and very much focussed in destroying Quebec as the last bastion of Catholicism.

No one I've read far had more to say about Satan and what he's up to than the late evangelist John Wesley White – author of Re-entry (1970), The Man from Krypton (1978), Arming for Armageddon (1983), and Thinking the Unthinkable (1992) – though I'm not sure how much he can be believed. I very much doubt that this song is intended to bring the listener to love Satan:

I may be wrong.

From everything I've read, Satan is cunning, creative, devious, and extremely intelligent. What he isn't is a good poet.

I can say this with certainty having browsed Michelle Remembers, the 1980 bestseller credited with providing the spark for the Satanic Panic. I'm planning on writing about it later this year, but for now, this being the first day of National Poetry Month, I thought it might be appropriate to share one of the many samples of Satan's verse recorded in the book by authors Michelle Smith and Lawrence Pazder:

            If you say one word I say to you,
            You'll say it all until it's through.
            You'll run out of time, run out of space,
            Run at the mouth all over the place.
            You can only go inside your head,
            And if you go there, then you're dead.

            So you see, I've turned it inside out;

            I've turned you around, turned you about,

            You always come back to me,

            The only way out is to see through me.

            The more goes out, the more comes in,

            You'll start to end when you begin.

So begins a theological debate. Is there something lacking in the Prince of Darkness – a heart, perhaps – that prevents him from being anything other than a rotten poet or is his verse intentionally bad so as to bring hell on Earth?

Frankly, I'm beginning to have doubts that Satan composed any of the poems in Michelle Remembers.

My thanks to fellow CanLit scholar Brad Middleton, who generously donated two copies of Michelle Remembers to The Dusty Bookcase.

Related posts:

Ontario Gothic Romance (with a scent of Brut)
The Strange Satanic Canada of a Future Past

Come, Come, Come - Nuclear Bomb

Same Old Same Old about Armageddon
The Oxford PhD Rambles On
Man of Faith, Man of Steel

Songs for Sunday Suggested by John Wesley White
Immoral Music for a Monday Morning

Joyce Boyle: Early Research

An addendum to Saturday's post on The Stone Cottage Mystery.

Emily Joyce Boyle was born on April 6, 1901, missing that year's census by a matter of days. The 1911 census finds Joyce as a ten-year-old living at 227 Westminster Avenue in Toronto with her mother Charlotte and three surviving siblings (Gertrude, John, and Beatrice). Her father, William, recorded in previous censuses as lumber merchant and a crockery merchant, died when she was a four-year-old.

At the time of the 1921 census, Joyce was still living on Westminster Avenue with her mother, Gertrude, and Beatrice. Interestingly, all four Boyle women are reported as having no occupation. They were  certainly not members of the leisure class, yet the family appears to have had the means to send Beatrice and Joyce off to the University of Toronto.

The photo of Joyce Boyle featured above, the only one I've found, comes from the 1924 edition of Torontonesis, the university's student annual. These are the words that appear below:

In the 1931 census, thirty-year-old Joyce and forty-six-year-old sister Gertrude are listed as living at 307 Castlefield Avenue in Toronto. Joyce's occupation is school teacher, while Gertrude's is school librarian.

307 Castlefield Avenue in June 2021

The previous year, Joyce had published Mary, John and Peter, which is most likely her first book.

Toronto: T. Eaton, 1930

Intriguingly, Joyce Boyle's entry in the Database of Canada's Early Women Writers notes that McMaster University's Macmillan Company of Canada Archives contains correspondence regarding an earlier work, Spring Blew Around the Corner, of which there is no known copy. Was it ever published? Thus far, I've found no reviews, adverts or even passing mentions in newspapers and magazines.

She's credited with eleven other titles, most of which – Mary, John and Peter being one – are schoolbooks meant for young children. Of those that aren't, the one that garnered the greatest attention was Muskoka Holiday, a 1953 girls' adventure novel published by Macmillan in Canada, England, and the United States.

Muskoka Holiday has my favourite cover by far, though Bobby's Neighbors has a certain lazy charm.

Nashville: Abingdon, 1959 

Once Upon a Time, a textbook edited in 1966 for Macmillan, appears to have been her last work. She would've been in her mid-sixties at the time.

Joyce Boyle died at the age of seventy-four on June 7, 1975, at Women's College Hospital in Toronto. She was predeceased by all of her siblings (including previously unmentioned Ernest, who died on the date of his birth, and Edith, who died at eleven). The University of Toronto's Joyce Boyle Scholarship is awarded to "a student with overall A standing who is enrolled in the Specialist or Major program in English, with preference to a student whose courses have included romantic poetry or prose." It was established by brother-in-law Stephen James Mathers (1896-1985), who was married to Joyce's sister Beatrice (1899-1969). Mathers also established a scholarship in honour of his late wife.

A good man.

From all I've been able to glean from newspaper articles, Joyce Boyle was a woman who dedicated her life to children's education. She was particularly focussed in fostering early interest in literature and the cause of world peace.

A good woman.

Related post:

TumblingTowards Mystery

Tumbling Towards Mystery

The Stone Cottage Mystery
Joyce Boyle
Toronto: Macmillan, 1961
151 pages

A big city girl made unhappy by her family's move to a small town, sixteen-year-old Isobel Anderson will be a familiar figure to readers of children's fiction. In her case, the big city is Toronto; the small town is Farston, to which Isabel's father (occupation unknown) has been transferred.

Coinciding with Farston High School's Christmas break, the Andersons' arrival is soon followed by a different sort of break. One particularly blowy, snowy day, Isobel is out on a solitary a walk when she falls and does something to her foot. Isobel tries to make for home, but the pain is too great. It's all she can do to reach the nearest dwelling, an old stone cottage that sits high on the hill at the end of her road. No one responds to her knocking, but she finds the door unlocked. And that is where she is found sometime later by young Eleanor Morgan. The girl lights a fire, makes sure Isobel is comfortable, and then sets off to get help. This arrives in in the form of a sleigh driven by Doctor Gordon Brown – "I'm Doctor Gordon Brown" – who then whisks her off to hospital where "several small foot bones" are found to be broken.

Forget the foot, this mystery concerns a stone cottage. Built by Eleanor's great-great-great grandfather, the building is now owned by the town, which has handed it over as the meeting place of the Farnston High School Historical Club.

Two observations:

• at my high school, clubs met in the school itself;
• there was always a teacher present, which is never the case here.

Before you get all hot and bothered about underage drinking, drugs, and sex, let me assure you that the students of Farston High are all good kids. They welcome Isobel with great warmth, going so far as to enlisting the help of  Norwegian immigrant Nels Olsen in building an elaborate sled so that she can participate in the school's Valentine skating party.

Isobel's date, Eleanor's brother John, proves a true gentleman:

"Good time?" he asked.
   "Never better," was Isobel's answer. "Oh, John, it was a perfect evening! And all I can say is 'Thank you'!"
   "That's all you need to say," was John's reply. "Thats all you need to say when you use that tone of voice."

And off he goes home.

The Edmonton Journal,
10 September 1958

The students of Farston High School are an extremely wholesome and cheery  lot, which is not to say that there isn't tension within their midst. Understanding the source is dependent one's knowledge of the Upper Canada Rebellion of 1837. Eleanor's great-great-grandfather, Alan Donaldson, a supporter of reform, was falsely accused of being a rebel. Facing arrest, he fled to the United States and was never seen again. A box of money and papers entrusted to his care disappeared at the same time. Eleanor's great-great-grandmother was certain that her husband had hidden the box, but the Farr family is convinced that he stole it.

As expected, Isobel, Eleanor, and their schoolmates solve the mystery of the missing money and papers. That they do this with the assistance of Miss Malcolm (Isobel's Toronto history teacher), Miss Norman (Isobel's Farston history teacher), and Miss Fleming (the town librarian), raised a smile because Joyce Boyle herself was a teacher and librarian.

She never married.

I know more about her than I do my great-great-great-grandparents or even my great-great-grandparents.

Object and Access:  First published in 1958 by Macmillan of Canada. Unlike Joyce Boyle's previous novel, Muskoka Holiday (1953), it was not published in the United Kingdom or the United States; something to do with the Upper Canada Rebellion of 1837, I expect. My copy, a second printing in olive green hardcover with mustard printing, was purchased last year at my favourite local charity shop. Sadly, it lacks the dust jacket, but what do you want for 65 cents. 

As I write, just two copies of The Stone Cottage Mystery are being sold online, both published in 1969 by Macmillan. At US$13.00, the more attractive is a hardcover with dust jacket. The other bookseller offers a paperback copy for US$68.00: 

I recommend the hardcover.

Related post:

Joyce Boyle: Early Research

Dusty Bookcase Unrecognized

Something strange.

Yesterday, the Toronto Star printed an opinion piece that features a 2017 Geoff Robins photo of my St Marys library.

No mention of my name.

Do I not deserve recognition for amassing such a fine collection?

Dusty CanLit Winter Reviews

Blogs. 

They were done in by social media, right?

In my own small way I helped hasten the decline. Back in 2011, after years of reluctance, I was encouraged to set up a Facebook account so as to promote A Gentleman of Pleasure, my biography of John Glassco. Did the effort sell a copy or two? Perhaps, though I very much doubt it sold three.

I quit Facebook in January after watching Mark Zuckerberg at Trump's second inauguration. If interested, you can now find me here on Bluesky.

I've been reading blogs for thirty years now. Most of my favourites are no longer, but not necessarily for want of effort. The blog I miss the most is Ron Scheer's Buddies in the Saddle, devoted to the "frontier West in history, myth, film, and popular fiction." Next month marks the tenth anniversary of Ron's death. We never met, but he taught me a great deal through his posts and in the comments he left to my own. Though an American, he wrote a lot about the history, myth, film, and popular fiction of Western Canada.

This is all to say that I've found blogs richer and more fulfilling than any found on a social media platform. So, this year, in appreciation of other bloggers I'll be sharing seasonal roundups of links to reviews of old Canadian books from favourite blogs.

Now in its eighteenth year, Jean-Louis Lessard's Laurentiana, is the very best online source for information on French-language Canadian literature. This winter saw ten titles added to the nine hundred reviewed thus far:

L’océanthume - Réjean Ducharme

Trou de mémoire - Hubert Aquin

Floralie où es-tu - Roch Carrier

Il est par là, le soleil - Roch Carrier

Le gagne-espoir - Mariane Favreau

Soleil brûlé - Luce Proulx

Kamouraska - Anne Hébert

Le jardin de mon père - François de Vernal

Les terres gercées - Madeleine Leblanc

Journal poétique 1964-1965 - Jean Basile

Leaves & Pages has long been a favourite, and not only because of a shared interest in the works of William C. Heine, author of The Last Canadian and The Swordsman [aka The Sea Lord]. The Leaves & Pages review of Anne Cameron's South of an Unnamed Creek always raises a smile. 

Never Shoot a Stampede Queen - Mark Leurin-Young
The Goodbye Look - Ross Macdonald

Morgan's Castle - Jan Hilliard

Back in 2005, Olman Feelyus set himself the goal of of reading at least fifty books per annum. Some years he succeeds, some he does not, but lately he's been on a real tear... which means more reviews! He's up to fourteen already, three of which are Canadian. His review of the old NCL edition of Roughing It in the Bush ranks amongst my faves. Happy twentieth anniversary to Olman's Fifty!

Roughing It in the Bush - Susanna Moodie

The Narratives of Fugitive Slaves in Canada - Benjamin Drew
The Luck of Ginger Coffey - Brian Moore 

The Pulp and Paperback Fiction Reader has a real talent for finding CanLit obscurities. Consider its most recent post, which looks at the 25 April 1933 edition of Short Stories. The issue features an H. Bedford-Jones short story and a novella, 'The Trained Cow Kills,' by Saskatchewan newspaperman Geoffrey Hewelcke (aka "Hugh Jeffries"). As far as actual books go, we have a review this uncommon title:

Riders of the Badlands - Thomas P. Kelley 

Moving south of the border, The Invisible Event shared a recent discovery of the Screech Owls series. Given the review, I'm feeling confident that there will be more Screech Owls reviews to come.

Murder at Hockey Camp - Roy MacGregor 

Mystery*File echoed Leaves & Pages' appreciation of Ross Macdonald:

Sleeping Beauty - Ross Macdonald

Blue City - Ross Macdonald

Paperback Warrior was so brave as to take on the third of New Brunswick boy W.E.D. Ross's thirty-eight Dark Shadows novels. Last autumn, I tackled number nineteen. 

Strangers at Collins House - Marilyn Ross

In January, J F Norris of Pretty Sinister returned after a year's hiatus with a 2024 recap of his reading. It includes a positive review of Ontario boy Hopkins Moorhouse's second novel The Gauntlet of Alceste, a 1921 mystery set in New York.

The Gauntlet of Alceste - Hopkins Moorhous

Vintage Pop Fictions reviewed Buccaneer Blood, the twelfth title in the sixteen-volume H. Bedford-Jones Library from American publisher Altus Press:

Buccaneer Blood - H. Bedford-Jones

Returning home, I would be remiss in not recognizing Fly-By-Night. No reviews, but the research it has shared on Canadian paperbacks of the 'forties and 'fifties these past sixteen years has proven invaluable:

Canadian Quick Readers, Part II

Canadian Quick Readers, Part III

For the record, I wrote only five reviews of old Canadian books this past season, all of which were posted on this blog:

The Weird World of Wes Beattie - John Norman Harris

Tolerable Levels of Violence - Robert G. Collins

Beyond the Rocks - Elinor Glyn

The Mystery of Cabin Island - Franklin W. Dixon

Between Friends/Entre amis - Lorraine Monk, ed.

More this spring!

Keep 'em coming!

Herbert Joseph Moorhouse
24 April 1882, Kincardine Township, Ontario
9 January 1960, Vancouver, BC

RIP

Related posts:

Remembering Ron Scheer... on a Friday
A Nova Scotian Writes Ontario Gothic
Darkness on the Edge of Town

Thank You for Being a Friend

Between Friends/Entre amis
[Lorraine Monk, ed.]
Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 1976

276 pages

Somewhat worse for wear, my copy of Between Friends/Entre Amis was purchased a month ago today at a thrift store in Brockville, Ontario. The United States was very much on my mind. When I walked in, Donald Trump was threatening crippling tariffs on Canadian goods. By the time I walked out, he’d granted a thirty-day reprieve. A week later, he went back on his word, slapping tariffs on Canadian steel and aluminum. Today, he's looking at Canadian lumber.

Who knows what tomorrow might bring.

A “gift from all Canadians to their American neighbours on the occasion of their Bicentennial,” Between Friends/Entre amis is a relic of a friendlier time. As much a part of my adolescence as electric carving knives and ovens of harvest gold, it seemed a fixture of every other suburban Montreal coffee table. That it did not sit on ours has everything to do with family history.

Don't ask.

Until last month I'd never so much as held Between Friends/Entre amis. Having now done so, I can report that it is extremely heavy – seven pounds – making it by far the weightiest tome in my collection. Interestingly, it is both the most expensive and one of the cheapest. The pre-publication price was $29.50, which the Bank of Canada Inflation Calculator informs is roughly equivalent to $149.00 today.

The second printing was $42.40 (over $214.00 today).

There were three printings in total.

On May 22, 1976, two days before publication, forty-three days before the Fourth of July, Simpson’s placed full-page ads in The Canadian, a weekend magazine included in most major English-language dailies:

Now you can own a cherished First Edition of the gift book our Prime Minister [sic] will present to the President of the United States next month.
   And it is no secret that first edition copies of BETWEEN FRIENDS/ENTRE AMIS should increase in value as the years go by, not only as a magnificent memento of the peaceable border but also as a real collector’s heirloom.
   First edition copies of “Canada: Year of the Land” produced for the 1967 Centennial by the same dedicated team at the National Film Board have already increased in value from $25 to as much as $600!

The text-heavy hard sell concludes:

Order a copy for yourself. Order one for each of your children, for friends and relatives in the United States or back home. Order copies for customers and business associates.

A few words of caution for those seeking investment opportunities: Between Friends/Entre Amis can be purchased online today for less than four dollars. Canada: Year of the Land can be had for even less.

Like Canada: Year of the Land, Between Friends/Entre amis was a project of the National Film Board. It received $1.1 million in funding. The concept was quite simple: dispatch photographers across the country to capture images of the border, border towns, border crossings, and the people who lived in the vicinity. More than sixty thousand photos were taken, of which 221 made it into the book. There are landscapes and images livestock, general stores, bars, churches, farmers, boy scouts, and police officers, along with the obligatory shot of the CN Tower. Every few pages, there is a photo of the border itself. These make for the most striking images, particularly along the 49th parallel, often captured as a thin scar running across an otherwise untouched wilderness.

Freeman Patterson took that shot. Michel Campeau, John De Visser, Nina Raginsky, and Michel Lambeth are also amongst the twenty-seven photographers whose work is also represented. My favourite images are provided by Peter Christopher, in part because one gets the sense he was playing around. Consider page 185, which features his photograph of four men and three women in formal dress posing around a grand piano in an ornate sitting room.

Just who are these people?

The accompanying note somehow manages to be both boring and laugh-inducing:

Mr. Charles R. Diebold (left); Mrs. Charles R. Diebold (seated, left); Mrs. Charles Diebold III, Mr. Charles Diebold III, Mr. Peter DeW. Diebold, Mr. David K. Diebold (standing left to right); Mrs. David K. Diebold (seated, right). The senior Mr. Diebold is President and Chief Executive Officer of the first Empire State Corporation. Mr. Charles Diebold III is President of the Western Savings Bank in Buffalo.

Turning the page, we find two more photographs by Christopher. The first, also taken in Buffalo, is a blurred image of a stripper in mid-performance. Its note reads:

Buffalo has more than 100 nightclubs. It also has its own symphony orchestra, a well-known art gallery, several fine restaurants (one on the site of the house in which Mark Twain, the United States writer, lived in 1870, when he was newly married and part owner of the Buffalo Express), and a zoo.

Yep, even a zoo.

The second, also blurred, appears to depict a sex worker outside a bar in Detroit. This time, the note has absolutely no connection with the image, instead providing a three-sentence history of the city. Did you know that in 1975 the population of Detroit was 1.5 million?

Well, it was.

That photo is as gritty as it gets. There are images of great wealth, but none of extreme poverty. There are photographs of order and authority but not protest. It is a polite collection from a polite people.

The Rotarian, April 1977

The Government of Canada distributed twenty thousand copies of Between Friends/Entre amis to libraries and “prominent persons” on both sides of the divide, like Rotarian International president Bob Manchester who received one from W.J. Collet, Consul General of Canada in Chicago.

President Gerald Ford was presented a copy by Pierre Trudeau on June 16, 1976, during a meeting that took place in the White House. In his remarks, Trudeau refers to the book as a “little gift,” and borrows something from “Mending Wall”:

One of your famous poets, Robert Frost, talked about good fences making good neighbours. Well, in this case, it is the good neighbours that make good boundaries.

President Ford thanks the prime minister for “this beautiful Bicentennial gift between friends,” talks at length about the pride Americans have in the boundary as one of peace, and concludes:

It is a boundary that will be crossed this summer by many people from Canada coming to the United States for our Bicentennial, and it is a boundary that will be crossed by many Americans going to the Montreal Olympics. And I think both occasions are great occasions for the Canadians as well as for the Americans.

The two leaders next went to the Rose Garden, where editor Lorraine Monk provided an overview.

 

The copies of Between Friends/Entre amis that flooded libraries and homes of higher up Rotarians did so at a time of great uncertainty and turmoil. A president had been forced to reign, his successor had made the mistake of issuing a pardon, and yet none of this had much effect on we Canadians. In the decades that followed, we friends became more entwined, and more reliant on one another through the 1988 Free Trade Agreement, the 1994 North American Free Trade Agreement, and the 2020 United States-Mexico-Canada Agreement.

Consider the dates. Where changes in the relationship with our American cousins were once slow moving, consequential change now occurs in the time it takes to heft a seven-pound book to a cash register.

Between Friends/Entre amis was on our coffee table for as long as it took to write this piece. It now sits in a box in our unheated garage. A first printing, it set me back 65 cents. The thrift store in which it was purchased is one of several in Brockville. Itself a border community, it was named after Sir Isaac Brock, one of the great heroes of the War of 1812, a conflict that the book takes care to avoid. Brockville is worth a visit. When I have time, I like to go down to St Lawrence Park and look out over the water. The American shore is less than two kilometres away. The border runs down the centre of the river. You can’t see it, but it is reassuring to know that it is there.

Update: 

Object and Access: A heavy 36cm x 26cm x 4cm hardcover with red boards. The colour printing is far superior to the offerings of most publishers of the day. 

Used copes are plentiful. Online offerings range in price from $3.99 to $886.57.

Condition is not a factor.