This novel’s rendering of the attempts by an estranged father and daughter to establish a new relationship is straightforward, down to earth, unvarnished and very effecting because it never overtly pulls at the reader’s heartstrings. The lives of the crusty but not uncaring father, the feisty daughter, her surprisingly but not unrealistically mature 12-year-old son and a dedicated and long-suffering family friend intertwine in emotionally resonant fashion.

The spare prose of this succinct novel is deceptive. On the surface, it reads like the shell-shocked voices of survivors (specifically, of the almost four-year siege of Sarajevo in the 1990s) enduring unimaginable fear and horror in their own homes and streets. As the story moves swiftly and compellingly to its conclusion, it’s clear that the plainspoken voices are those of people conserving and doling out their spirit just as they ration water, bread, cigarettes and daring to hope. Those moments of still vibrant spirit are incredibly moving.

I first read Solomon Gursky Was Here in 1990, shortly after it was first published, and I have now reread it in 2009. Almost 20 years later, I still find it rich in story and character, and both sly and pointed in its commentaries on religion, politics, commerce, culture, human relationships, and what it means to forge one’s individual identity in the world. Ironically, the theme of identity is driven home by the title character, who makes few actual appearances in the book, and is elusive and constantly shape-shifting. Oh, and Richler’s take on the iconic Franklin expedition is still brilliant and memorable.

“It is our displacement that binds us.”

This haunting, subtly textured, absorbing read from Anne Michaels was worth the long, long wait post-Fugitive Pieces. Is Anne Michaels perhaps Canada’s Marilynne Robinson? Both have a modest number of titles, new titles from both are hugely anticipated, and both always richly reward their readers with tender, acute, precised crafted explorations of the human heart.

The Winter Vault starts slowly to build the layers of imagery that tell the central story of Avery and Jean Escher, and that of their parents and others that touch their lives. All of the imagery and all of the intertwined stories deal with displacement – by war, by water (through the striking juxtaposition of the building of the St. Lawrence Seaway and the Aswan Dam in Egypt), by heartbreak and by enduring love. Although it builds gradually at first, the rich layering of themes and images gains momentum and lends emotional depth and resonance to the central story of how Avery and Jean come together, are torn apart by personal tragedy, and then find their way back to each other. (Hmm, is that a spoiler?)

With all of the examples of displacement throughout the story, it’s interesting that Michaels selects the image of the winter vault (a temporary crypt for those who die in the winter and cannot be buried until the earth thaws again in the spring) as the title. It gives the sense that the winter vault preserves something precious, gives it the dignity it deserves, and protects it until warmth and new life – the advent of spring – can provide a permanent home. The grave as a final, peaceful home is an affecting and wholly appropriate symbol for this story.

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materfamilias reads – Review of Anne Michaels’ The Winter Vault

“Old City Hall” is breathtakingly good. It’s a crisply paced murder-mystery with a satisfying plot and sufficient twists to keep it addictive and infectious to the very end. Actually, I would not pigeonhole “Old City Hall” as just good for the murder-mystery genre – it is a fine book, period.

The novel boasts an intriguing and consistently sympathetic cast of characters, the most colourful and endearing of which is the city of Toronto itself. Rotenberg rounds out the story with historical and cultural background on the city, and behind-the-scenes legal, law enforcement and incarceration insights that add interest and dimension to the overall story without unduly slowing down the plot momentum. And whoa … underpinning the whole thing with a Toronto Maple Leafs subplot of sorts – how great is that? Rotenberg handles a complex narrative with a confidence and deftness that belies the fact that this is his first novel.

Emotion wells up quickly from the supposedly dry and clinical reports of day-to-day occurrences at a downtown Toronto library. Written by a frustrated and depressed but conscientious young woman, the ostensible reports trace both fond and troubled memories from her childhood, and bring her to the awakening and possibilities of happiness in her present life. Longlisted for the 2009 Giller Prize, Baillie’s novel is populated by fleeting but poignant portraits of people finding solace and sanctuary in books and libraries. The book weaves humour, sadness, longing, romance, suspense, menace and more in a compact and compelling form.