An explosive and engaging The Year Without Summer

From The Week of September 2nd, 2013

Civilization is so massive, so ubiquitous, with its cities and monuments, its billions of souls and countless technologies, that it is easy to forget the degree to which its existence is poised on the razor's edge. We, its builders, had to be born on the right planet, orbiting the right star, inhabiting the right region of the galaxy. We had to come along at a time in Earth's evolution in which our natural predators had mostly died out, their remains spending millions of years being converted into fossil fuels for us to exploit. We had to avoid ice ages and killer asteroids, global plagues and seismic catastrophes. In other words, we had to be incredibly lucky. And yet, we do not think of it this way. For us, civilization is a permanent blessing conveyed upon us by the generations who came before us and passed on by us to those who will efollow. This is folly, a truth wonderfully demonstrated by William K. Klingaman's excellent work.

When, on April 10th, 1815, Mount Tambora erupted, sending millions of tons of superheated rock, gas and other debris into the atmosphere, no one could have conceived of the consequences. Even observers of this once-a-millennia explosion assumed it to be little more than guns being fired at distance. And yet, not only would tens of thousands of people parish as a direct result of this colossal eruption, but millions more would be threatened by its long term impact on the climate. For in launching 55-million tons of sulfur-dioxide gas into the stratosphere, the Tambora event supplied the fuel for the creation of sulfuric acid light enough to disperse throughout the atmosphere, helping to reflect sunlight, that would normally make it to the ground, back into space.

This triggered an episode of significant global cooling which, over the coming months, not only robbed the world of a warm summer but lead to the failure of crops and harvests necessary to feed millions of humans in the northern hemisphere. In Quebec, snow would be reported falling as late as June and as early as September, a dire circumstance experienced throughout Europe and North America. In time, conditions normalized and the climate settled back into a more typical disposition, but not before igniting apocalyptic fears and scientific fascination that would drive the former into the arms of faith and the latter out into fields and labs where they could begin to discover just what had happened to the world in that fateful year.

An excellent primer on volcanic eruptions and a disturbing reminder of our incredible dependence on the vicissitudes of the climate, The Year Without Summer is an entertaining and innovative work of popular science. Mr. Klingaman draws upon the surviving letters and works of temporary figures to describe the awful, summerless conditions that lasted, to some degree or another, for three years. But while first-hand observation forms the core of this account, the author has liberally supplemented it with not only scientific explanations of the Tambora eruption but detailed accounts of the other factors, like the solar minimum, that may have exaggerated the impact of the volcanic event.

It is impossible to read this work, however, and not be deeply affected by the tenuousness of our existence. The Tambora eruption lowered global temperatures by no more than two degrees. And yet, this was sufficient to kill off harvests and, thus, send millions of humans scrambling for food. And this in a time in which the human population was a mere fraction of what it is today. If such an incident was to occur now, hundreds of millions might well starve to death. Volcanos and earthquakes, comets and asteroids... These are dangers over which we have absolutely no control. And yet, we live as though we do, not only by reproducing in unsustainable numbers but by choosing to live in the center of most of our world's most dangerous zones. Only the powers of denial can be sufficient to keep us from completely surrendering to the fear of what may well come at any moment.

This is not perfect work. Mr. Klingaman would've done well to discuss in more detail the inner workings of volcanos at the expense of some of the internal lives of early Americans. Moreover, he might've done well to speculate on the impact the weather had on the politics of the period, but these are very minor quibbles in what is otherwise a rewarding and sobering read.

Fascinating work... (4/5 Stars)

Faith, justice and innocence all go missing in Redrum The Innocent

From The Week of June 17th, 2013

As much as we plan and dream, organize and hope, our lives are beyond our control. We live in a world of billions, a world in which, every day, countless people make decisions that have an impact on both our present and our future. We can't resist that. We lack the knowledge and the power to turn back that flood. And so we ignore it, concentrating on what we can change, on what we can see affecting us in the moment. This is a much more palatable existence, one that gives us the illusion of command. But what happens when that illusion is shattered? What happens when our lives are turned upside down by events we could no more predict than we could accept? What are we then? And how do we survive? Kirk Makin ruminates in his sprawling work of non-fiction.

On October 3rd, 1984, Christine Jessop, a playful, adventurous, nine-year-old girl living in Queensville, Ontario, vanished without a trace from her quiet, suburban home, shocking a community unfamiliar with such terrible events. Over the next three months, fuelled by her mother's hope for the girl's safe return, the police and the public would undertake a regional search for little Christine, one that would end in tears when her broken body was found some 50 miles from her home, in woods frozen by winter. With only a few suspects and even less evidence, investigators soon locked in on Guy Paul Morin, the Jessops' eccentric, 24-year-old neighbor who, though lacking any sort of motive, much less a criminal history, was extensively questioned by cops increasingly eager to find their man. Their suspicions were only strengthened when they learned that Morin declined to join the extensive, public search for Christine, in the desperate days just after her disappearance.

Using hair and fiber samples taken from Morin and his car, police would eventually arrest Morin, charging him with Christine's murder. Fixated by his social awkwardness, they would spend the next year largely ignoring other suspects, SHAPING what few pieces of evidence they had into a case against Morin that would lead to two controversial and contentious trials, the second of which would finally convict him of a crime he did not commit. This truth, however, would only come to light in 1995, 14 months after his conviction, when newly developed DNA techniques would rule out his involvement with Christine. This shameful miscarriage of justice would conclude with a 1997 inquiry which excoriated the police and the judiciary, accusing the former of leaping to unsupported conclusions and recommending that the latter change its prejudicial procedures. But none of this would help Guy Paul Morin regain his life. Nor would it return Christine to a Jessop family shattered by her disappearance.

As shattering as it is revelatory, Redrum The Innocent is Mr. Makin's extensive chronicle of both the murder of Christine Jessop and the judicial farce that would attempt to identify and punish her killer. Drawing on dozens of interviews with the principals and countless hours spent observing Morin's two trials, the author masterfully weaves together the personal and the professional, painting intimate portraits of the prime movers while methodically laying out the dubious evidence used to first hound and then to imprison an innocent man. Between, Mr. Makin systematically savages the case against Morin, not only revealing its shoddy construction, but detailing the unforgivable extent to which police fixated on Morin, contorting the facts to better fit their assumptions of his guilt. His efforts here are so thorough, so overwhelming, that they leave the reader's faith in the judicial system deeply shaken.

There is no doubt that Redrum The Innocent is at its most potent when describing the ways in which the police bungled the investigation of Christine Jessop's murder. In fairness, the cops in question were neither trained nor prepared to handle such a complex and difficult case. None of their rural charm, or good ol' boy instincts would help them find their man. For the degree to which they were overwhelmed by what unfolded, we can have sympathy. However, what we cannot tolerate, much less accept, is the degree to which the police refused to acknowledge their own inadequacy. Instead of welcoming outside assistance, they fell back on interdivisional rivalries out of the selfish desire to claim the glory of finding Christine's killer. This hunger would lead them to not only manipulate evidence and coach witnesses as a means of firming up the case against Morin, it would cause them to unforgivably dismiss the leads that might have lead to Christine's killer. As a consequence of hurling all their energies at an innocent man, the killer was never found, a fact which has left the Jessop family in ruins.

If this is the work's travesty, its tragedy is saved for the Morins and the Jessops, two families smashed by this ordeal. As a result of the harsh light of the investigation, secrets and lies are forced out of the shadows, truths nearly as cruel as the murder itself. This endless, grinding process of lurching towards something like justice leaves the reader hollowed out, hoping for some measure of peace, of justice, that never comes. We should be better than this. It should be easier than this. Alas...

Redrum The Innocent could have used an edit trim some of its 750 pages. Nonetheless, it is, in every other respect, a mesmerizing read that withstands the test of time. For though its subject is primarily the murder of a young girl, the ways in which it branches out to speak about the law, society and human nature is timeless. A must-read... (4/5 Stars)

Honor killings, multiculturalism and a horrific murder in Honour on Trial

From The Week of June 17th, 2013

Multiculturalism has, and will likely always be, problematic. For though many of the world's countries pride themselves on open borders and hospitable populations founded on notions of generosity and the will to be free, humanity has spent the bulk of its history as a species in homogeneous environments, ensconced in tribes and lands where everyone walked and talked like everyone else. Certainly, there were exceptions, particularly in the most recent millennia in which technologies that allowed for large empires were deployed to conquer other lands, but these centuries are but the tip of the iceberg poking out of the waters of our evolutionary past.

As a consequence, human beings living in multicultural environments experience a quiet tension, one that pits the wisdom of their cultural enlightenment against the suspicion of their genetic makeup. While times are good, with crime low and jobs plentiful, wisdom wins out. But when times are difficult and money scarce, like for like takes the day, causing suspicion of the unknown to override judgement and for cynicism to replace kindness, a matter made all the worse when this multiculture is forced to grapple with crimes it cannot imagine, emanating from backgrounds with which it has only a passing knowledge. This is a truth chillingly rendered in Paul Schliesmann's brisk work of true crime.

For Canada, a country that has never experienced a high rate of crime, relative to much of the world, the Shafia Family murders came as a severe shock. An honor killing that claimed the lives of three teenaged daughters of a successful, immigrant family from Afghanistan, then living in Montreal, it would launch a three year odyssey beginning with a lengthy police investigation and concluding with a high-profile trial in which Mohammad Shafia, the family patriarch, Hamed, his son, and Tooba, his second wife, would stand accused of executing a cruel plot to drown the three young women, along with Rona, Mohammad's first wife, in a Kingston Mills Lock. It would take time for a motive to emerge for such a terrible and senseless crime, but eventually an chilling image of the family would take shape, one colored by tribal customs transported to the new world, customs that endow females with family honor to such a degree that any significant act of disobedience brings a stain upon the family that can only be cleansed with blood. This would prove to be true of the three Shafia daughters who, having once agreed not to date boys, broke with their eastern customs to embrace the western culture in which they were immersed. For this, they died in the cold and the darkness.

A thorough primer of the Shafia murders and the complex trial that would follow on from them, Honour on Trial is a read as swift as it is informative. Mr. Schliesmann, a Canadian journalist, possesses a newsman's prose, pages stripped of any sense of excess or flair. In its place, cold, hard facts which paint a portrait of events that are as clear as they are difficult to stomach. In this vein, the author makes no judgement calls about the Shafia family, leaving such editorializing to others. Instead, he uses established truths to depict the tragic, senseless course of events with heart-sinking deliberation, leaving little room for doubt.

For those looking for a simple chronicle of events, Honour on Trial serves admirably, but the Shafia case demand more than this. This was not only a murder. This was the premeditated killing of four women for reasons that are inescapably barbaric. Yes, we must be sensitive to the customs of other cultures, to embrace them and weave them into the fabric of who we are. But we must test those customs against not only our ethics, but the widely acknowledged human rights that should exist for all individuals. Any customs that fail that test, that violate the rights to be free for which countless people have fought, then those are customs we can all rightfully reject, leaving them in the dust of history along with every other unenlightened, self-serving notion that we've evolved out of. But for a brief section describing honor killings and the causes that give rise to them, Mr. Schliesmann fails to articulate this important point.

Every day, innocence is lost because of ignorance, because of customs that are not knocked down by exposure to other cultures. This is multiculturalism's value, a test of who we are against the values of others, a crucible from which reasoned truth can emerge. If only such enlightenment did not have to come at such a terrible cost... (3/5 Stars)

Champlain's Dream by David Hackett Fischer

From The Week of January 30, 2012

Why do we quest? Customarily, such journeys are dangerous, requiring us to brave the unknown, the unfamiliar, in order to either satisfy some personal desire, or to advance the sum total of human knowledge. Both ventures bring with them their own unique perils which can be completely avoided by living a normal life at home, surrounded by society and its well-established conventions. And yet, for some, the unknown is so powerful a lure that it trumps even the might of self-preservation, causing these inquisitive souls to brave unexplored frontiers in search of destiny. Samuel Champlain was just such a man. His legend is both honored and elucidated in Mr. Fischer's commendable and poetic biography of the famous adventurer.

Marinated in a 16th century France convulsed by a series of religious wars memorable for the extremity of their bloodshed and betrayal, Samuel Champlain was born to a modest family whose fortunes were suspiciously linked with that of Henry IV of France. The legendary king, who strove to end the conflicts and usher his country into a peaceful and united future, was famous for his love of women, a proclivity which helped give birth to the rumor that Champlain was one of no doubt many of his illegitimate sons. How else explain the rapid rise of a common-born man to the halls of power where he held sufficient sway with the king as to earn, for himself, captaincy of an exploratory mission to the new world? Oh, Champlain was loyal, having fought bravely in Henry's armies during the numerous civil wars of the period. And he certainly possessed a clear mind, a fair spirit and a dogged will. But were these virtues sufficient to earn such royal favor?

Regardless of Champlain's origins, he spent the next 30 years repaying the generosity of the French monarchy. For, after making 27 crossings of the Atlantic without losing a single ship, Samuel Champlain had founded the colony of New France, made peace there with numerous tribes of Native Indians, nourished the French fur trade and created a lasting legacy of courage and enlightenment in an enterprise (colonialism) so often wrought by racism, animus and discord. His colony, which would someday become the Canadian province of Quebec, flourished. And such was his influence upon it that, 200 years on, stories still circulated, within the First Nations of Canada, of the deeds of the great European explorer who was so unlike so many of his fellows.

Though Champlain's Dream is unquestionably a sympathetic account of the life of this most famous French explorer, it is nonetheless a moving and lyrical recount of a rare man. Mr. Fischer, a historian and professor, traces and illuminates the many deeds of Samuel Champlain without ever losing sight of the man's soul. For as much as the explorer's actions are legendary, the author wants his readers to understand the purity of spirit that infused him, to grasp how rare it was for a European of this time to rise above the biases of his supposedly civilized world and treat people unlike himself with respect and dignity. In this, he is deeply reminiscent of Candido Rondon, the 20th century Brazilian hero who also set aside the conventions of his world to embrace the fantastically foreign.

But for all that Mr. Fischer succeeds in laying before us the mind and the actions of the famous Frenchman, this is, to a disturbing degree, a pro-Champlain account. The author almost exclusively draws upon Champlain's own words to retell his story, relying on a few Indian tales and a handful of contemporary accounts that occasionally intersect with Champlain's deeds for corroboration. Though this is made somewhat understandable by the fact that most other accounts of Champlain have been lost to the rigors of time, I was left with the feeling that Mr. Fischer wasn't much interested in cross-examining Champlain's claims. He appears to be as much a fan of the man as the reader is by the conclusion of the piece. Perhaps this is all there is of Champlain's history and Mr. Fischer has been completely fair, but this is not the impression conveyed by this chronicle which effectively argues that Samuel Champlain was a man almost entirely above the destructive prejudices of his own time.

However sympathetic, this is a readable and lyrical biography of one of the formative figures in Canadian history. A deeply compelling narrative. (3/5 Stars)

The Civil War Of 1812 by Alan Taylor

From The Week of June 19, 2011

It is the forgotten war. Lacking the insurgent gravitas of the American Revolution, or the bloody, fratricidal battlefields of the American Civil War, the War of 1812 has been relegated to history's dusty closet. And yet, though it has been subsequently eclipsed by many, more terrible conflicts, the Anglo-American discord of 1812-1815 not only solidified the United States as a republic bent on Manifest Destiny, it sowed the seeds for the creation of Canada as a nation entirely apart from its more populous neighbor to the south.

Mr. Taylor, a historian of the early years of the United States, has assembled a thorough history of a brief but telling skirmish ignited by British desperation. Faced with a determined and pugnacious Napoleon, the British empire in 1812 ruthlessly pressed into its naval service every half-competent male it could get its hands on. This not only included British citizens who had the misfortune of being snared by the press gangs that roved the British isles n search of able men, it encompassed American citizens still considered by the British government to be subjects of their king. Rising up in defense of their kidnapped sailors, the United States, under the presidency of James Madison, retaliated by fixing the sights of its muskets northward, on Upper and Lower Canada, then English territory. American safety from British aggression, they decided, could only be secured by sweeping the empire from the continent.

However, in 1812, the United States had nothing of the military might it boasts today. And so, what began in ambitious hope for a swift and decisive victory quickly stalemated against unexpectedly fierce resistance from British-backed Canadians who enlisted various Native tribes to their aid. A series of bloody, barbarous engagements saw York looted and the White House burned, but nothing permanently gained on either side, that is, until the famous British victory over Napoleon at Waterloo allowed the world's most powerful empire to turn its attention to its colonies across the Atlantic. But rather than pursue the war any further, the two sides, humbled America and fatigued Britannia, sued for peace, ending a short but telling chapter in the history of human warfare.

The War of 1812 may have been a foolish and unnecessary exchange, but as Mr. Taylor argues in The Civil War of 1812, it solidified the meaning of citizenship. The United States of the 19th century was a little-favored upstart, an experiment widely considered to be destined to fail. These were opinions not only held by the British but by many of the United State's own citizens. In prosecuting a largely unsuccessful war against the British, the U.S. managed to not only bolster its fledgling national identity, it clarified the idea that a human being, while branded at birth by the nationality of his homeland, has the right to pursue the nationality which best reflects his ethics and his ideology. In other words, even if we are is but a fraction of the whole. born into bondage, we have the right to flee that bondage and pursue our freedom where freedom is prized. But while this is an extraordinary and noble idea, it is a shame that it has only been selectively practiced by the country that popularized it.

Mr. Taylor's history devotes as much time to the beginnings of Canadian identity as he does to American consciousness. Though Canada would not be made an independent nation for another 50 years, the War of 1812 ensured its independence from Americanism. Ruthless attacks from American militia founded, in the minds and hearts of the surviving Canadians an identity apart from not only the rapacious Americans but from the complacent British.

This is a gripping read. Mr. Taylor does a wonderful job educating the reader on the background of both the conflict and the nations that fought it. Pleasingly, he gives equal time in his chronicle to both sides while spending considerable time with the Native Indians and the Irish who fought for Canada and America respectively. Of all the forces involved, the Natives come out the worst, having been thoroughly screwed by both sides. But is this not the sad constant in the history of North America?

For all that this is quality work, Mr. Taylor, but for two passing references, completely ignores the burning of the White House by British invaders. I respect that he wanted to focus the attention of his history upon the borderlands, where the main battles were fought, but he devotes more time to American prisoners in English jails than he does to the most memorable incident of this war. It is a glaring oversight for what is, in every other respect, a fine history. (4/5 Stars)

On The Farm by Stevie Cameron

From The Week of November 07, 2010

It is often said that a society should be judged by the way it treats its elderly and its less fortunate. If these are appropriate criteria, and I believe they are, than the case of Robert 'Willie' Picton is a blight on Canadian society. Ms. Cameron does meander, at times, through her 700 page account of this hellish, 15-year odyssey. Nonetheless, the picture that results from her thorough examination is damningly complete.

Robert 'Willie' Picton has the dubious distinction of being one of the most prolific serial killers in the known world. Only one of the dozens of vulnerable women he lured off of Vancouver's poorest streets escaped his suburban pig farm alive. The rest died helpless and alone: dismissed as itinerant prostitutes by the police empowered to protect them; neglected by the politicians who shrugged them off as an unhelpful constituency; and ignored by a society desperate to think of itself as better than that which could produce a killer of Picton's loathsomeness. They died in ways that defy description, in ways that have made painstakingly torturous the effort of authorities to tell his victims apart. Dozens, allowed to disappear and die because they weren't upstanding citizens, because they weren't worthy of a second thought...

On The Farm begins with Picton's antisocial childhood, growing up on a rural, Lower Mainland farm in the 1950s and 60s. It concludes with his lengthy and complicated trial which, late in 2007, returned a guilty verdict sufficient to sentence him to imprisonment without the possibility of parole. Between, it chronicles the life of a man who never integrated into society, a man who was allowed to live on the fringes, to butcher animals, to escape the kind of socialization necessary to understand the difference between a pig and a human. Family friends, such as they are, provide context for the lives of the young Picton, but more revealing are the portraits of the women he slaughtered. They are women who defy categorization but for one important commonality, the bad boyfriends who they allowed to send them spiraling down the drain of society, down to where only the unwanted live, to where sharks like Picton swim. Picton is a powerfully revolting figure throughout, a figure which forces Canadians to see him and to confront the truth that their society produced this monster. But for all the length of Picton's shadow across this chronicle, it's the empathy and the tragedy of his victims, combined with the tireless efforts of the RCMP to catch their killer, that give life to this difficult and gripping read.
The Vancouver Police have, and will continue to, find a way to excuse away their complicity in the murders of these women, but books like this one will help us to remember that the self-serving self-interest of powerful cops in the VPD allowed Picton to operate under their noses while refusing to heed the calls of the families and the experts who knew he was there. Their deafness has brought shame to our country and pain to families who deserved more from men who seem to have long ago forgotten that they are invested with extraordinary powers to protect the public, not to service their own egos. I don't know about others, but I certainly won't forget. (4/5 Stars)

Web Of Hate by Warren Kinsella

From The Week of November 15, 2009

What drives hate groups to hate? What seeds, when planted, causes their ranks to swell? Why do they flourish in otherwise peaceful countries where their fears are so obviously groundless?

These are questions which lie at the heart of Warren Kinsella's book, a worthy expose of hate groups in Canada and the United States. His efforts here are thorough and convincing despite the fact that Mr. Kinsella's sympathies are declared throughout. He does not rail at the perfidy or the injustice of these groups; he discusses their origins, their methods and their seduction which cruels so many lives. Perhaps the most surprising truth here is just how pathetically little provocation is necessary for hate groups to take root, much less how attractive they are to disaffected youth.

At times heartbreaking, sickening, and bewildering, Web of Hate is always fascinating. (3/5 Stars)

Under The Bridge by Rebecca Godfrey

From The Week of October 11, 2009

Under the Bridge is a devastating retelling of one of the most infamous murders in Canadian history. In 1997, in a small town in coastal British Columbia,
Reena Virk, a socially insecure, 14-year-old girl struggling to fit in at her high school, began a string of antagonistic exchanges with two of her fellow students, altercations which would culminate in her brutal murder some few weeks later. Though Reena Virk, in slandering a notorious female student at her school, initiated the chain of events which lead to her death, hindsight tells us that she was simply posturing for the girl's approval by mimicking her aggressive style. Rather than reacting rationally to Virk's verbal assault, the girl in question -- renamed Janice by the author -- lashed out at Virk, escalating the confrontation and sending it spinning towards its tragic culmination, Kelly Ellard, Janice's best friend, drowning Virk in the ocean on the night of November 14, 1997.


Rebecca Godfrey's efforts in Under the Bridge are a chilling reconstruction of these events, the many colorful characters who played central roles in them, and the three trials of Ellard that would attempt to find justice for Reena Virk. Can adolescents truly be this cruel when nothing more than status and pride are at stake? Or was this just the isolated act of a violent and troubled young woman who killed to feel strong, killed to feel important?

A riveting read and a must for anyone seeking to learn more about the stresses that drive young people to touch powers they do not understand. (5/5 Stars)

Guns of Victory by George Blackburn

From The Week of August 2nd, 2009

Most second efforts fail to live up to the promise of the first, but Guns of Victory, chronicling Mr. Blackburn's deployment in Belgium, Holland, and, finally, Germany (1944-1945) evades that trap by essentially picking up from where Guns of Normandy left off. The narrative is still first person, the action is still harrowing, and, if anything, Mr. Blackburn's eye for the little tragedies of war is even sharper here. If you enjoyed Guns of Normandy, Guns of Victory will not disappoint. 4/5 Stars)

Guns Of Normandy by George Blackburn

From the week of August 02, 2009
It is apropos that my notes begin here for I do not think there is a more raw, more personal account of World War II than that written by Mr. Blackburn, who shares here his experiences as a forward observation officer (FOO) in an artillery regiment of the Canadian army. The glory Mr. Blackburn earned for himself, fighting to liberate France from the Nazis in 1944, he lends to the reader by writing his account in the first person. The style drew me in like no other book, like one of the old Choose Your Own Adventure tales, only bloodier, truer, and without the option to bug out. A must read for anyone interested in the Second World War and/or the everyday pains and sufferings of a soldier in wartime. (5/5 stars)