1 week Ago By Reviewed by Rory Runnells
is a quartet of stories by a disparate group of contemporary Canadian writers swirling around the idea of a “bargain” with the conceit of a writer at the centre of each narrative. Read this article for free: Already have an account? To continue reading, please subscribe: * To continue reading, please subscribe: *$1 will be added to your next bill. After your 4 weeks access is complete your rate will increase by $0.
00 a X percent off the regular rate. is a quartet of stories by a disparate group of contemporary Canadian writers swirling around the idea of a “bargain” with the conceit of a writer at the centre of each narrative. Read unlimited articles for free today: Already have an account? is a quartet of stories by a disparate group of contemporary Canadian writers swirling around the idea of a “bargain” with the conceit of a writer at the centre of each narrative.
The reader can accept that, though the concept is somewhat tenuous. All four present the problem of many stories about fictional artists: we have to take the word of the narrator concerning whether they’re as talented or not as the story presents. In any case, the collection offers one outstanding success, Michael LaPointe’s riveting ; one interesting failure, Cassidy McFadzean’s ; one near-miss, Naben Ruthnum’s ; and one clever but somewhat tedious diabolic possession tale, by Jean Marc Ah-San.
Dead Writers Ah-San’s tale uses the idea of words summoning the satanic “foeman,” who is a feeble devil at best. Clever in its use of literary references, it aims to be sinister and charming but remains unmoving and overlong. In Ruthnum’s , a writer reluctantly agrees to write a short bio of a young minor novelist she knew sllightly, whose death by suicide upsets no one but his doting mother.
Everyone, including his family, agrees the dead man was an offensive creep, but the discovery of a room the guy retreated to changes their minds. It presents a quiet order, a kind of monk’s cell, which was supposedly the real heart of the dead man. Understanding that, are we supposed to reject all the negativity about him? The revelation is a little tidy.
Though the story is cogently, even beautifully, written, the ideas Ruthnum presents don’t quite mesh. One major problem is that the writer-narrator is rather judgmental herself, and her voice is the only we can rely on. In McFadzean’s , an alcoholic writer and her partner go on a Sicilian holiday which turns sinister with their inadequate (to them) accomodations seemingly haunted.
The idea is that the writer wants “terrifying change” from her addiction and exorcises it in the mild, unconvicing haunting. That is hastily but strikingly and poetically stated at the story’s end when she returns to Toronto. Unfortunately we don’t see it manifested in the narrative.
For one thing, we have no instance of her alcoholicism bothering her (except for a few mentions of her companion drinking in her presence), let alone get any understanding of the causes of her addiction. You stick with it, but the story presents a situation which stalls in its presentation. The best story, , has its author Michael LaPointe reading a memoir by his (supposed) long-deceased, acclaimed poet relative (and personal inspiration) who travelled north to “X,” a sight never revealed.
During Elections Get campaign news, insight, analysis and commentary delivered to your inbox during Canada's 2025 election. In the story, which is primarily a government report from 1922, the poet is caught up and ultimately complicit in the gruesome maw of a criminal tragedy at a residential school. LaPointe’s prose, which is mainly the “report” we read, is powerful, angry and deeply empathetic.
His ancestor flees into the world of Canadian nature poetry as an escape, but LaPointe understands no one can escape from the horrors of human society. “X,” wherever it is, haunts the living writer as it enveloped the dead one. The contemporary narrator sees his inspiration from his relative has not been only a mistake, but has led him as creator to “ a kind of terminus.
” Perhaps one great story can make a collection, even if the three others are at best a mixed bag. LaPointe proves it can. Rory Runnells is a Winnipeg writer.
Dead Writers: Stories By Jean Marc Ah-Sen, Michael Lapointe, Cassidy Mcfadzean and Naben Ruthnum Invisible Publishing, 180 pages, $24 Advertisement Advertisement.
