Steven Galloway writes about King Leary

Paul Quarrington has become legend around these parts, as his King Leary christened our blog into existence. Steven Galloway holds it in high regard as well, and has recommended it to Stephen Harper as a result. Galloway is the first guest writer in Yann Martel's What Is Stephen Harper Reading? series, as Martel himself is currently touring the country in support of his soon-to-be released novel Beatrice & Virgil. Galloway's review is in the spirit of Martel's, if not a tad harsh: recommend a great book that you think will benefit the PM's ability to lead our country. Galloway is a little more direct than Martel usually is, for example, when he explains his motivation for contributing to this project:
"[E]ven though a lot of writer types think Yann is tilting at windmills in sending you these books, I like to think that maybe you look at some of them, and maybe you read or have already read some of them, and that no one, anywhere, would think that receiving seventy-five free books in the mail with a letter from an internationally renowned author would be a bad thing. In a way, you’re in what must be the world’s most exclusive book club, albeit somewhat unwillingly. I bet Mr. Obama is jealous!"
Galloway's reasons for picking King Leary are twofold: first, in tribute to his late friend, Mr. Quarrington; and secondly, as a hockey novel it is truly "the sort of novel that only a Canadian would write." It is a good letter, and a good novel. I wonder if Galloway knows that Harper is one of the prominent hockey scholars in our country; it is highly likely that he has a first edition somewhere with his name in it. Nevertheless, a worthy recommendation. 

Stay tuned for more guests! 

DTABC Inaugural author loses battle with cancer

Paul Quarrington, DTABC's very first selected author, succumbed to lung cancer on Thursday. He was a celebrated writer, winning the Stephen Leacock Prize for humour with King Leary, the Governor General's Prize for Whale Music, and was nominated for the Giller Prize twice, with Galveston and The Ravine, respectively. King Leary, which also won the 2008 Canada Reads Competition, was our first selection, with mixed reviews: "I did not find this book funny, but sad. Quarrington's novel actually exemplifies the isolation of the aging population and that old people are most often portrayed as something to laugh at." Ouch. I feel a little less like that now, and more like Quarrington is much smarter than I gave him credit for - of course he was writing satirically about the portrayal of the elderly in pop culture! He wrote an enduring character that belongs in the pantheon of Canadian writing beside Barney Panofsky and Hagar Shipley. Of course, it doesn't hurt a Canadian writer to write about hockey. At any rate, I feel that I will read King Leary again with much less annoyance and contempt than I did initially. Mr. Quarrington, you will be missed.

Read more about Paul Quarrington here.

Qualms with Quarrington’s Quirks

I’ll keep it fairly pithy, and try not to repeat myself – the latter, coincidentally, would have been good advice for Paul Quarrington when he wrote King Leary.

It’s fairly obvious early on while reading Leary just why that Canada Reads logo is emblazoned on the top right corner of the cover. I’m generally a fan of the CBC, but it’s no stretch to say it’s in the propaganda business. As we all know, the core mandate of the Ceeb is to flog material with characters, settings, and themes representative of “Canadian identity.” Small wonder then that a book about a Canada Dry-swilling ex-NHL star won this year’s competition.

Admittedly, this may have leant prejudice to my reading.

First, the broad strokes:

I could appreciate Quarrington’s sense of humour. The first half of the book provided many a chuckle. The fact that much of the book takes place in Ottawa didn’t hurt, considering I’ve spent most of the last two years there.

Yet by the back half, the novel gets so bogged down in repetition it’s hard to take seriously. Frankly, by the end I was about five “St. Louis Whirlygigs” away from bagging it.

Still, there’s a lot to admire about Quarrington’s writing. His style and tone reminded me a lot of Thomas King’s Green Grass Running Water. I say that mainly because of the appearances of Clay and Manny towards the end of the novel, much the same way King splices supernatural characters from the past with the here-and-now. There’s also a fairly subtle and well-handled commentary on the plight of Aboriginal Canadians in the early part of the 20^th century. I thought it fairly significant that Clay and Blue’s drunkenness is more socially accepted than Manny’s.

What really impressed me was Quarrington’s pacing. He weaves the contemporary narrative with the past seamlessly, juxtaposing the King of the ‘20s and ‘30s with the King of the late ‘80s. Quarrington also has splendid eyes and ears for archetypes. Clay is the pompous ass; Blue the hard-drinking sports reporter; Claire the amoral ad man; Duane the burnished superstar (and yes, by those references about him setting up behind the net, I think it’s fair to say he’s a surrogate for Gretzky). These kinds of characters can get tired, but Quarrington manages to carry them through 232 pages successfully.

The big exception for me was the monks. Their presence suggests there’s a higher power at play in explaining Leary and Manny’s gifts. This is where Quarrington’s quirkiness rubs raw. That said, I’ve yet to see spirituality and sport melded convincingly (and yes, Field of Dreams is no exception).

You guys have already touched on the King Lear references, and I think you’re right. Leary clearly misjudges Clarence – which isn’t to say he’s that fond of the “gormless” Clifford. I guess where Leary differs from Lear is his willingness at the end of his life to help Iain, whereas Lear is ready to pack it in – and does. I wonder too if Quarrington named his protagonist the way he did because he’s “leery” of the past, at least as it relates to his family. As he tells a repentant Clifford at the post-game drink-a-thon, “talk about hockey or shut up.”

For all his repetition of Whirlygigs and other such nonsense, Quarrington does take the narrative unexpectedly towards the macabre near the end. It’s fairly refreshing, but I’m not sure if it’s thematic impact justifies the break with the evenness of the narrative up to that point.

Quarrington deserves credit for exceeding my expectations of banal Canadiana. However, the narrative stumbles too often to qualify as classic CanLit.

Final Rating (Out of a possible 4 D-Dubyas): 2 ½ D-Dubyas

Garry's Review: King Leary

Okay, so I'm not even going to attempt to write as much or as well as Dave, but I'll give my two cents.

King Leary
by Paul Quarrington

I read this book with two things in mind: first, its title clearly alludes to Shakespeare, and second, the cover of my edition boasts of the book's win of the Stephen Leacock Award for Humour. I was thus looking for a Shakespearean comedy to follow. I was mistaken, I believe, for a number of reasons, the least of which being that King Lear was not a comedy.
The allusion to King Lear can be found in the delusion and obliviousness of the lead character. By the end of the book the ghosts of his past are as real as the living characters, but I am not even sure why they are haunting him. I think Quarrington tried to convey that Leary's biggest faults in life were a) letting Manny drink himself to death and b) blaming Clarence for the end of his hockey career. Neither of these revelations are funny moments, nor is the fact that he never loved his wife and married her for some unknown reason - possibly because she showed him her "bubbies".

I did not find this book funny, but sad. Quarrington's novel actually exemplifies the isolation of the aging population and that old people are most often portrayed as something to laugh at.

My six word review: Read Barney's Version by Mordecai Richler

King Leary, the digested read

Lads, let the book clubbing begin, man-style. Since I'm currently unemployed (for the month) I've already finished the book and a few others... and wanted to get fingers to keys before nostalgia set in.

The latest trend in reviewing seems to be the “brief-review.” The appeal of brevity, according to Slate’s Michael Agger, “is that it will help us cope with the onslaught of music, movies, books, magazines, television shows, and blogs.” Read: we’re lazy and easily distracted.

This so-called “boom” in brief-review sites included The Four Word Film Review and Paul Ford’s six-word music reviews. But the ancestor, according to Agger, is the Guardian’s The Digested Read. Indeed, as he puts it: “When you need to skewer a pretentious book in six paragraphs, only an Englishman will do.”

The Guardian’s reviews – all 400 words or less – are pretty deliberate, but pretty funny. They even digest their own reviews, and provide their recommendation in less than six words. In their latest review of Deaf Sentence by David Lodge they mimic the author in a long-winded back-and-forth dialogue that takes apart the author’s own poor use of dialogue. They usually try to take the voice of the author – or a close resemblance – all the while hacking the book to shreds.

The verdict or, as they call it, “the digested read, digested,” on Lodge’s book is simply: “Wait for the audio-book.” I would say the same thing about King Leary, but CBC took care of that already.

Regardless, here’s my attempt at mocking Quarrington in my own digested read followed by my digested read, digested. I’ll leave my real comments on the book in the comments section to be skewered with equal fervor, I’m sure.

I loved the book, for the record but mostly because I suggested it.

King Leary by Paul Quarrington
Anchor Canada, $19.95
David Hutton
Tuesday May 5, 2008
Don’t Talk About Book Club

Today’s the day.

Or is it? I forget. Where am I? Back at that funeral again with Manny “The Wizard” Oz. Well, Manfred Armstrong Ozikean, really, but it would be some years before he became The Wizard, the Witch Doctor. But that’s another story for the next chapter and the chapter after that and, hell, maybe the next one, too.

Clarence? Where’s that Gormless Clifford (whose wife abandoned him) and his fat hands? If I just keep referencing that he’s fat you’ll eventually get the point that he’s fat. Oh, and he drinks. Did I say that already? Smokes, too.

I’m King Leary, born in One Nine Zero Five and raised in Bytown. You’re going to learn a lot about me and then I’ll keep repeating myself until you get the point. I get drunk on Ginger Ale, Canada Dry. And I’m going to tell you that at least a dozen times in the coming pages.

This is supposed to be where I insert a reference to some old hockey player or team that may or not have existed. I don’t know what I’m talking about, never did, never will. Okay, I know, I’ll do what old Blue Hermann, the greatest newspaperman ever to writer about me, would do. Blue would always follow me around.

We’re off to Toronto to meet this Claire thing, giving me a perfect and easy narrative arc. I’m going to reflect on my career, St. Louis Whirlygig-style.

We’re in Toronto. Drunks everywhere. Blue Hermann has had more hangovers than anyone in the history of the world. And I’m the greatest hockey player ever to live, if I don’t say so myself.

I could get technical on you, and explain the ins and the outs, but I don’t really know myself. Just like me executing the famous St. Louis Whirlygig, the best of all airborne maneuvers, and of unspeakable beauty. Have I told you about that?

Read between the lines, already.

Or that Gormless Clifford? Fat slob. Where is this story going? Oh yeah, I was trying to make a point about something but I’m still not sure what. Alcoholism? Complicity? Old age? Social withdrawal? Mythology? Denial?

I know, I’ll insert Wayne Gretzky into the book… but I won’t call him Gretzky and I’ll make him a drinker, too. The NHL is just as manly now as it was in One Nine One Five.

I need a drink, don’t I? No. Maybe? Have I told you about Manny? Clay told this story at Manfred’s funeral. Manny died in a hotel room in New York, New York.

“I am agèd and infirm!” says I. “I shouldn’t be kept out past eight-thirty or nine. Here it is almost eleven.”

Off to the Canadian Sports Hall of Fame.

Oh, there’s Clay Bors Clinton, the son of bee who was my bestest friend. That son of a bee is everywhere and nowhere, whirlgigging in and out.

Today’s the day. It’s time to for me to die. Hellzapoppin. Or is it?

The digested read, digested: hellzapoppin pace slowed by hellzapoppin repetition…

First book pick: King Leary

Okay, the first book is King Leary by Paul Quarrington. Here's the deal: the deadline for reviews of this book will be May 31st - everyone posts their own review with others commenting on each review in the comments section. After this, at the end of each month we will post reviews of the next book. The only other rule is don't talk about Book Club. Unless it's with us. Or with your significant other - that's unavoidable. Or if you have a friend who's really, really interested. Or if there's someone you think would enjoy the book being discussed. Other than that, don't talk about Book Club.