As a judge, you sincerely hope you're going to like/love the books you're asked to consider. Let's face it, since much of your summer reading has been determined for you, you at least want to enjoy it. But even if you do enjoy each one in its own way, as I did, you don't want to end up feeling they are all good, good enough, but none great, none worthy of being set apart and awarded.
But my job has been easy, thanks to Colin McAdam. Some Great Thing is some great thing indeedùa constantly surprising, risk-taking wonder. I've not read something with such an original voice since Nicola Barker's IMPAC-award winning book Wide Open. McAdam explores the subtleties of differences in class, education and culture as played out against the bigger ideals of building a nationùits suburbs on one hand, its civil service on another. His skill is evident in the structural sophistication of the story, and his confidence in his ability is clear in his assumption of the reader's intelligence, even where he takes the risk of confusing the reader.
McAdam is in total controlùeach character is the unique owner of his/her language and point of viewùa mastery most powerfully evident in his hypnotic use of monologue and extended dialogue. McAdam makes me, as a writer, excited about language; as a reader, he simply blows me away.
An honourable mention has to go to Ibi Kaslik for Skinny, a tender, charming novel about the coming-of-age of two sisters that has just enough bite to keep it fresh. Like McAdam, Kaslik distinguishes herself with an arresting and original voice that makes novel use of language. Her compassion for her characters is heartfelt and unselfconscious.
Plot suffers though, from periodic disjunctures, narration which is too directive in parts, and occasional inconsistencies in character. Still, Skinny is a compulsive read with much to recommend it and certainly deserving of more attention. At the risk of neglecting the other three books on the shortlist, each of which has its own merits, I wanted to make some comment on eachùin no particular order. First, Arthur Motyer's What's Remembered. This book has stayed with me, or rather the feeling of it has. There's such an aura of sadness about this bookùa fictional memoir of the life of a gay man in an era of necessary secrecyùbut it's a story that seems to have missed its moment, somehow. It belongs among other gay memoirs of the past, in large part because of the formality of the narration and point of view, and while a painful reminder of the struggles for acceptance and recognition, it's difficult to connect it to the present era and the celebration of gay lives and unions in Canada.
Bishop's Road by Catherine Safer, the story of the women in a St. John's boarding house, is a genre-crossing mix of local history, mystery and magic realism. Safer's prose style is unique, buoyant and often funny, but while Safer is a great storyteller with a keen sense of character, I was conscious of the effort behind the narration on occasion.
Finally, Sunday Afternoon, by David Elias is a curious but engaging read about the inhabitants of a Mennonite town who are witness to the planting of nuclear missiles just across the US border. While much could be drawn out here about that conflicted space between global political movements and the tradition-bound inhabitants of a small Canadian town in the 1960s, the tension of the historical moment is diffused by attempts to offer insights into the heads of too many characters.
But as I said at the outset, there was no contest here. You had me at "Kathleen on Wednesday", Mr. McAdam.