My wife recently complained that Canadian Literature has really become like the Emperor’s New Clothes — we expect a book to be brilliant and then overlook the fact that many of these novels fail to tell a story at all. In contemporary literature, it appears fashionable to completely disregard the plot; authors seem caught up in a play of words that present a series of images which us readers are then expected to string together. These authors are more tricksters than guides. We’re expected to scratch our heads at the story and simply applaud the author’s erudite phrases; we’re expected to lead ourselves down the garden path.
Where is the Robertson Davies or Mordecai Richler of today?
Well, for the record, here are my Top 5 Canadian authors that I happen to think are still doing an admirable job of telling our stories:
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Image by Canada Reads
If I told you I had time to read one Wayne Johnston novel this Christmas, which title would you insist I pick up? I’m also planning on reading Book of Negroes, since everyone seems to have done so already.
Will I be seeing you this Christmas? When do we get to talk books again?