Book Tour November ’09

This is a long blog about the book tour I did in November ’09 after receiving an invitation from The Writers Alliance of Newfoundland and Labrador to do readings in St John’s, Newfoundland and Happy Valley-Goose Bay, Labrador. I was over the moon about this invitation since they are the only province I have not been to though always wished to.

Got quickly down to earth to organize a reading tour in the Maritimes since the first half of City Wolves takes place there. The tour would end in  Newfoundland and Labrador.

October 30^th I was packed up and on the road, stopping in Kingston to meet with the Head of Queen’s University Archives where my literary papers have been bequeathed. The Head informed me that my papers have unusual value because I began being published as such a young dog in England, pioneering young adult novels with the venerable publisher Macmillan, London and have kept taking off in new directions with adult fiction. My correspondence over the decades records some of the major changes in publishing in England and in Canada. Including the mind boggling changes in publishing technologies of today.

November 3^rd, in Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, I addressed a large gathering of the University of PEI English Lit. and Creative Writing students and faculty plus students and faculty from the University’s Veterinary College on the topic; “Creating City Wolves…from Dogs”. It included a power point presentation of my research trip to the Yukon. (Yes, I even learned how to do a ‘ppp’.)  The amazing ‘connection’ I discovered at UPEI was that my host, Prof. Jane Magrath had spearheaded, along with Alice Crook of the Vet College, the Chinook Project which has fourth year vet students go to remote villages in the Arctic to tend sled dogs.

Next stop was Halifax where I presented a copy of City Wolves to Dalhousie University library’s special collections, met up with writer friends Lesley Choyce and Donna Morrisey and did a reading at Keshen Goodman Library. It was early November when the fear of H1N1 was peaking before the vaccine was available and people stayed away from voluntary public gatherings in droves. Dismal turnout there and in Antigonish where some people were sporting face masks. Truly strange for Antigonish.

Next day, as I drove through sleet over the causeway to Cape Breton Island and up into the highlands, I was fighting fear, dread and futility. If I didn’t slide off the gorgeous roads into the ocean, would anyone show up for the  readings, lectures, workshop I was to do? I gripped the steering wheel, sang along to Anne Murray and Rankin family music, recalling nearly forty years ago when I taught at Cape Breton University summer school and set my second novel on Cape Breton and in Oxford. Arrived safely in beautiful Baddeck and next morning enjoyed a full house addressing Douglas Arthur’s Brown’s famous workshop of veteran writers. That night, talented writer Douglas and his fabulous chef partner, Lars entertained me and artist friends Gordon and Carol Kennedy so well, I didn’t drive back to my hotel until next day.

In Sydney I stayed with Richard and Mary Keshen, dear friends from Oxford grad student days. Richard has created an excellent Philosophy Dept. at Cape Breton U. and Mary has had a scholarship named after her for her work in the English Dept. My lectures at the university and readings at the libraries were very well attended. Most notably by another treasured friend from Oxford grad. days, Father Greg MacLoed. Such a delightful character and notorious do-gooder Fr. Greg is I put him in my first novel, back in 1970. He invited us to his house for a cailidh after my reading in Sydney. As Mary said, “Greg can command the best musicians on Cape Breton at his cailidhs.” As I lay my coat on the pile in his house I saw on the wall a small framed photo of his being presented with the Order of Canada by Gov. Gen. Adrienne Clarkson. It brought tears to my eyes. So richly deserved and Greg hadn’t told me. We sang and danced the night away.

My husband flew to Sydney to join me in the drive (after a ferry ride) around the coast of Newfoundland to St John’s. Newfoundland is rolling rocky terrain with thin soil and valiant fir trees. Spectacular scenery with the coastal inlets and little lakes, such as we could see from the Trans Canada Highway. St John’s is a hive of cultural activity. Literary, musical, dance, sculpture, all kinds of artists. And so people-friendly, even on the main street, regardless of traffic lights on every corner, cars insist on stopping if they see you contemplating crossing the street at any point. A cab driver, whom I suspect is Rick Mercer’s brother, explained: “In Newfoundland we have no snakes, squirrels or raccoons, but we got more moose than people. You’ve seen the highway signs. More people killed by moose on the roads than by cars. So if you step out on the street, the drivers halt in case you’re a moose.”

I expect you’ve seen photos of St John’s. The steep streets rising up from the harbour with wooden houses so gaily painted, our bright yellow, red and turquoise house would fit right in. Like Cape Bretoners, there’s nothing dour, mincing or depressive about Newfoundlanders. They’re a squig jiggin’, defiant, dancin’ lot, nobody’s fools.

How could I know so much, with only a few days’ visit, residing in a hotel? Because I’ve read the great literature that has come out of Newfoundland in the past few decades. They tell it like it is, in most artful style. And my treat was to meet up with some of the greats I’ve met long ago through the The Writers’ Union. Joan Clark and Kevin Major and Donna Morrissey ( now in Halifax). Given all that goes on in St John’s on any one night, I was lucky to have the good gathering for my reading that I did. Much thanks to WANL reading series organizer Thea Morash.

Relatively little is known of Labrador. As yet, it has produced no very well known novels or films. Rich in minerals and strategically located on Canada’s north east coast, Labrador had a military presence through the wars. I pictured Arctic landscape and couldn’t imagine what else. A few weeks before I was to be there, I was informed that the festival I was to be part of was postponed until February because of fear of H1N1 spreading in the Inuit community, but my reading was to go ahead regardless. I knew only that I was to perform somewhere in a town called Happy Valley-Goose Bay.

Two days before I was to be flown there from St. John’s, I had a welcoming email from host Monica Surina and a message from one Scott Hudson saying that he wanted to attend my reading and bring one of his sled dogs.

Perfect! I replied. Perfect grand finale to the book tour for City Wolves.

Scott met us at the airport. We were carrying a box of my books since we had been told there are no bookstores in town, though it has a good library and other cultural facilities. All the buildings we saw were maximum two storey, well maintained and much space between them. Scott drove us to Hotel North where we had all the essentials, including highspeed wireless. The view from our hotel window was flat terrain, snow covered, but only a foot or so deep, with spindly spruce trees on the horizon beyond the main road lined by all the town’s business buildings.

Then Scott drove us to meet his well cared-for, kenneled sled dogs. He’s working on establishing a breed of Labrador sled dogs. They are very like malamutes except a few have one or two blue eyes. “Jack, who’s coming to your reading tonight,” said Scott, “has never been in a building before.”

Yikes! I thought. How is this going to turn out?

We dined with Monica in the bigger hotel where I would be reading in a second floor public room. Jack would have to encounter stairs as well as everything else, for the first time.

Jack performed like a champion malamute. Cautious, tail down, but smiling and panting, he mounted those weird stairs and came into a room full of strangers, all of whom he befriended, then settled down for the reading. When I read from the passage where Ike ruminates anxiously about the likely ill fate of the dog he has just traded, Jack suddenly rose up and began to howl and whine. Everyone looked round to see what had caused his alarm. But Scott and I knew. Jack had been attuned to the story. I crouched down with Jack, patted and assured him the story would turn out well enough for the dogs. He then settled back down to hear the rest.

There is only one Society for the Protection of Animals in Labrador. It is there in Happy Valley-Goose Bay. All proceeds from the box of City Wolves went straight to it.

Thanks to Scott and Monica for the arrangements, sled dog Jack did indeed make the perfect grand finale for City Wolves in the Atlantic provinces.

I’m proud to say, Scott has added me to his committee for the establishment of Labrador sled dogs as a recognized Canadian breed.