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sewn paper
Fiction
November 2002
192 pages
ISBN 0-88984-246-9
$19.95
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Another great first novel
from the Porcupine's Quill
(also shortlisted for the
Stephen Leacock Medal)
Buying on Time
by Antanas Sileika
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A Tourist's Guide
to Glengarry
Ian McGillis
Nine-year-old Neil McDonald has always wanted to write a book. Every time
he tries, though, it comes out `like the Hardy Boys or something'. But when
a maverick substitute teacher challenges him to record all the events and thoughts
of a single day, the doors of creativity swing open. It helps that the day
in question is, in Neil's words, `pretty weird'. The time is the fall of 1971;
the setting is `North America's northernmost Metropolis'. The cast includes
Neil, his best friend Keith and his gnome-like baba, a budding Black Power
advocate, the heavy-smoking son of anti-war activists, and a very small boy
wielding a very large axe in a public park. Neil thinks his day will climax
with the broadcast of the first night game in World Series history, but what
he's in for is something much deeper, a surprise that will teach him much
about the world and his place in it. In the end, Neil has his book. And it's
nothing at all like the Hardy Boys.
This book is a tribute to a real neighbourhood at
a special point in time - working class north Edmonton on the cusp
of the oil boom. McGillis has drawn partly on figures from his own late 60s, early 70s childhood,
including a maverick substitute teacher with a predilection for Eastern
philosophy, a nine-year-old champion of civil rights, a chain-smoking ten-year-old
son of anti-war radicals and baseball immortal Roberto `Don't call me Bob' Clemente.
McGillis is a compulsive devourer of fiction in all its forms, and always
knew one day he'd write novels of his own. Impetus for this story of a
child in Edmonton came - paradoxically - from a honeymoon trip to India,
where he stayed in villages much like those described by the Indian
novelist R. K. Narayan and was struck by their similarities to the
places where he grew up. With Narayan he shares a faith in the extraordinary
qualities of ordinary lives, and a belief that `it is personality alone
that is unchanging'.
`A Tourist's Guide to Glengarry may do for Glengarry what
Mark Twain, Margaret Mitchell, or William Faulkner did for the South.'
-- Barry Hammond, Legacy
`If J.D. Salinger or Mark Twain had lived in Edmonton, they might have written
A Tourist's Guide to Glengarry. Prepare to slip into the mind of a
nine-year-old. Prepare for a trip like Huckleberry Finn's, except here it is
not a river that is travelled but a single day in the life of little Neil
McDonald. Prepare for a story that is simple, deep, psychologically dead-on,
minutely observed yet worldly - and very funny.'
- Yann Martel, winner of the Booker Prize
`"Weird" and "neat" are neutral adjectives, but they betray something
fundamental about Neil. Together they describe a sense of wonder, which
often goes understated, and a certain ambivalence, the root of which is
tolerance. With these two words, McGillis keeps himself and his readers
on track, and in a genre which too often cedes artistic integrity to
cliché, he refrains from playing the judgement card like a phony.'
- Andrew Steinmetz, Books in Canada
`If the memory of childhood has lapsed, let this book be the antidote. A day
in the life of a kid has never been so exquisitely, so magically, nor perhaps
so comically, portrayed. Gazing through a child's ViewFinder, our sad world
is renewed and made wondrous again, which, as Ian McGillis reminds us,
is the true import of childhood.'
- Trevor Ferguson, author of The Timekeeper
`Neil McDonald is the most eloquent nine-year-old you've ever heard. He's
the narrator of Ian McGillis's captivating first novel, A Tourist's
Guide to Glengarry and he's had quite a rough day -- encounters with
drugs, booze, petty crime, teenage Italian girls, the threat of
expulsion from school, enraged nuns, Black Sabbath, and puppy love are
only a few of his worries. Set in 1971 Edmonton, a milieu that offers an
uneasy blend of the cosmopolitan and the parochial, A Tourist's Guide
to Glengarry offers a guileless account of young Neil's adventures,
which involve a rapid-fire series of surprises, belly laughs, and kidney
punches.'
- amazon.ca
`Yann Martel loves A Tourist's Guide to Glengarry. In his cover blurb,
the Booker-winning novelist compares it to the work of J. D. Salinger
and Mark Twain. Martel's invocation of these particular giants is not
just a generous response to a good book. It aptly reflects Ian
McGillis's particular knack: piercing the armoured adult's heart with
the green arrow of a child's.
`Following an especially challenging day in the Edmonton suburb of
Glengarry, nine-year-old Neil McDonald is urged by an eccentric teacher
to record, as a writing exercise, everything that has happened to him
since he tumbled from bed that morning. He does, and his singular diary
forms the body of this debut, a dispatch from a mind still capable of
wonder, yet sprouting tiny shoots of wisdom.
`Neil's prose cuts a finer line than you might expect, even from an
exceptional nine-year-old. This small stretch ensures the book's
success. Before you can figure out quite what McGillis is up to, what
buttons he's pushing, he's suddenly refiring a host of dormant neurons.
The results are sad and exhilarating at the same time - sadness for
time's march, exhilaration for such rare expression. It feels like
learning all over again how to see the world and us in it - how to
share, to err, to rue and to move on.'
- Jim Bartley, the Globe and Mail
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