Review | The Mysterious Death of Tom Thomson, George A. Walker

Most Canadians know Tom Thomson as a famous Canadian artist affiliated with the Group of Seven. His disappearance during a canoe trip and the discovery of his body days later have remained a tragic, yet intriguing mystery. Official cause of death was accidental drowning, but clues suggest possible foul play. If you’re interested in knowing more about this story, here’s the Wikipedia entry, and I’d also highly recommend Roy MacGregor’s fascinating Northern Light.

George A. Walker’s The Mysterious Death of Tom Thomson is a beautiful addition to the list of books on Tom Thomson. Curator Tom Smart calls it a “visual elegy,” and I think that describes the book perfectly. Mysterious Death contains a hundred and nine woodblock engravings that cover Thomson’s life from his youth in the city to his death in Algonquin Park. I’m a fan of Porcupine’s Quill books in general — I love their textured pages, and think this is such a fitting format for the starkness of Walker’s medium. Mysterious Death is a wordless narrative, so all we have is a single black and white woodcut print at the centre of each page.

Certainly, it is possible to tell a story using only images, but I wouldn’t recommend reading Mysterious Death as a biographical resource on Tom Thomson. Rather, it is best to know a bit about Thomson’s life in order to understand the story. Because the images are so stylized, with faces either in shadow, or portrayed with few lines, and because there is no text, it can be difficult to recognize Thomson or other characters. Rather than give details about Thomson’s life, Walker gives impressions. This is especially true in the second half, about Thomson’s life at Algonquin. While the first half shows a more structured narrative, of Thomson as a professional artist, selling and exhibiting his work, the second half feels more like scenes plucked at random. Walker intersperses images of Thomson painting or fishing with images of the landscape, and creates an overall idyllic picture. Some of Walker’s images also give pleasant jolts of recognition, calling to mind, for example, Thomson’s famous The Jack Pine or West Wind.

The section on the fateful canoe trip is especially interesting because of the anger Walker conveys in his images. We may not understand the circumstances behind Thomson’s altercation with another man, but we can feel the menace, and the frustration. Walker’s account answers no questions about Thomson’s life; rather, it offers readers a sense of how that life must have felt — from the sense of purpose of getting his work exhibited, to the more relaxed, idyllic days painting in Algonquin Park, and finally, to the altercation that preceded his death.

Images from the book, from the Porcupine’s Quill website

A fact from the Author’s Note that I found especially interesting: The block used for the last image in the book is from branches believed to have fallen from the trees Thomson painted in Byng Inlet. That’s a fitting, rather haunting connection, eh?

Review | Puppy Love, Frauke Scheunemann

What a charming, adorable book! Frauke Scheunemann’s Puppy Love not only has the cutest cover art ever, it also has an utterly adorable (no other word for it!) plot. Fans of Enzo from Garth Stein’s Art of Racing in the Rain or Chance, Shadow and Sassy from Homeward Bound will fall in love with Hercules, or, as he much prefers to be called, Carl-Leopold Von Escherbach. A dachshund who lacks the pedigree for his original, dog breeding family, Hercules is rescued from the animal shelter by Caroline, a violin maker who smells “like a beautiful summer’s day.”

Caroline is a wonderful, sweet human, but, Hercules realizes, she has horrible taste in men. Her boyfriend Thomas is a jerk, and he hates dogs, so Hercules decide to find her a new, more suitable mate. He is aided by Mr. Beck, an old, fat cat and expert in human behaviour.

Puppy Love is charming, and I fell in love with Hercules from the very first chapter. He deals with a bully at the animal shelter thus:

‘I don’t believe,’ I retort with as much dignity as I can muster under these adverse circumstances, ‘that this establishment takes reservations. I was here before you, so I will lie down on this spot. Kindly allow me to do so.’ […] He has surely never encountered such civil resistance. I stretch out contentedly.

It’s the dignity part that got me. I couldn’t help but picture this cuddly little dachshund with his nose in the air like the butler Stevens from Remains of the Day. Go Hercules go!

The novel falters a bit for me in the latter scenes where Hercules and Mr. Beck scheme to find Caroline a man. They are certainly comic, but at times, felt a bit repetitive — how many times can Hercules conceivably pull off the same trick without people, especially Caroline, becoming seriously concerned? That being said, even those moments are charming — they work for the simple reason that you are already in love with Hercules, and with Caroline, and you genuinely care about both finding happiness.

“Natural” is a strange word to use for a book about a dog playing matchmaker, but my favourite parts in the novel do feel natural. They feel real. When Hercules first meets Caroline and loves her scent “like a beautiful summer’s day,” for example, or any of the scenes with Caroline’s business partner, friend and potential love interest Daniel — they feel warm and comfortable.

Caroline’s romantic adventures are interesting to read from Hercules’ point of view. He usually has no clue what Caroline is thinking, and is surprised that his plans haven’t worked out like he thought. Personally, I was totally rooting for one of the men, and felt disappointed by the ending. I was also disappointed with the way Scheunemann ended one of Caroline’s relationships near the end; it just felt too convenient.

That being said, Puppy Love was a lot of fun to read. I’d love a dog like Hercules — seriously, look at that cover. How can you resist those puppy dog eyes? Puppy Love is a warm, wonderful, charming book to enjoy on a lazy weekend or a relaxing day off.

Review | Full Frontal T.O., Patrick Cummins and Shawn Micallef

Last year, I returned to the Philippines after about two or three years away. It was an odd experience, driving around the city where I’d grown up — the landscape was both familiar and alien. Every time I saw a place I remember well, I’d see a new addition, new facade, at times even a whole new building beside it — an unescapable reminder that I’d been away, and that the once familiar locales have moved on without me.

I remembered that experience well, during the Coach House Books launch for Patrick Cummins and Shawn Micallef’s Full Frontal T.O. The wall at the entrance to Urbanspace Gallery featured text by Micallef, but for the most part, Cummins’ images were posted on the wall without comment, at times even without dates. So while I viewed the photos with fascination, as a new Canadian (a GTA-er, yes, but not even a Torontonian), I lacked the context that infused others at the launch with nostalgia. “I pass by that area everyday,” someone told me, pointing to one of the photo sets. Another said trips to Chinatown were a childhood tradition, and seeing Cummins’ images of that area brought forth all these memories. Still another loved the pages in the book about her neighbourhood — she remembers how the street has changed and loves how this change was captured on paper. I can only imagine how a similar book on the city I grew up in — Full Frontal Manila, anyone? — would affect me. So for all who grew up in Toronto, all who live in Toronto, or all who love Toronto — definitely give this book a read.

For those like me — I love Toronto, but don’t have that twinge of recognition and nostalgia at photos of the city from the 80s and 90s — Full Frontal T.O. is a fascinating read. Confession: I love old buildings. I love visiting them and imagining the people who lived or worked in them years ago. The stories they can tell! And I don’t just mean official historical monuments — personally, I find hidden history much more fascinating, the stories of ordinary individuals who have made tiny, almost invisible marks on history. Point is, I loved the idea behind Full Frontal T.O. even before having seen the book. Cummins spent years taking photographs of the same spaces over time. We get to see a city change, and we get to imagine the tales that come with these changes. Very cool.

Then you add text by Shawn Micallef, and I’m definitely hooked. Those who have ever asked me for a Toronto book recommendation, or who have read this blog post know how much I loved his previous book Stroll. Micallef has a knack for turning the quotidian into an adventure, and his writing in Full Frontal T.O. is no exception. In his introduction, Micallef writes that because “we know we’re supposed to like pretty or big things,” we immediately associate with Toronto big landmarks like the CN Tower. However, “ragtag” buildings that “would never make it on to a Toronto postcard” are actually “the real Toronto,” the city in which most of us live. He writes,

Because we seem to look elsewhere all the time in Toronto — to a shiny new part of the city, or one of our older gems, or a possible future we might dream of — much of Toronto passes below our radar, even though we’re deep in the middle of it every day. We’re missing out, though.

Full Frontal T.O. calls attention to the city “below our radar,” the “vernacular Toronto,” as Micallef calls it. It’s why people who have lived in Toronto for years feel not just the joy of recognition, but also the thrill of surprise at Cummins’ choice of subjects to photograph. It’s also why people like me, who are relatively new to Toronto, feel an even deeper affinity with the city after reading this book. Full Frontal T.O. reveals a Toronto beyond the usual tourist landmarks, and thereby makes insiders of us all.

Micallef writes that the city is in constant flux, and that’s certainly true. Looking at Cummins’ photograph can be surprising at times by how little a space can change over time — 1042 Queen St W, for example, was a Printing shop from 1988 – 2004 (with a phone number beginning with LE, how long had it been there?). Thing is, and this is something I missed on my first reading, if you flip a couple of pages back, you’ll also see a spread on 1042 Queen St W, showing how by 2009, the Printing shop storefront had been replaced by a mural. Google Street View still shows a mural at this address, though I’m not sure how old that image is, and a March 2012 article at The Grid TO reveals the address is still unoccupied. Things you learn, eh?

Full Frontal T.O. is a fascinating read. Personal favourites include the spread on 148 Huron Street, mostly because of its description as “a feral house. They fed the fence to the plants and the plants liked it.” The images of the trees literally engulfing the front of the house until they were trimmed by the 2011 photo looks almost like the setting for a horror movie. I also loved the section on Gothic cottages. I had no idea until reading this book that Gothic cottages are “those with the peak over the front door.” Personally, I just think it’ll be really cool to say that I lived in a Gothic cottage.

Micallef writes that the book doesn’t contain a map, and doesn’t have the photos in any sort of geographical order because “it’s more fun this way.” He suggests that we “open the book anywhere. It’s all Toronto.” Sounds good to me. I did have fun flipping through Full Frontal T.O. It’s a photographic adventure into Toronto’s past, all in a handy little book. However, the best thing for me is that the book invites readers to explore Toronto themselves. Because the city keeps changing, even the most recent photographs may soon be outdated. When we visit these locations Cummins has photographed, what will we find? Fast forward ten years, or possibly even just ten months from now — what will we find then? Full Frontal T.O. explores the city, but the adventure can last as long as you want it to.

EDIT, May 15, 2012

Publisher Coach House Books has begun a blog for Full Frontal T.O.

From the blog:

The Full Frontal T.O. Blog aims provide an online forum of the work. Did you live in this house? Work in this storefront? Have an amusing anecdote to tell? If so, please add comments to the photos. We can to create an online living history of these buildings, and only you can help us do that!

Check out the blog at http://fullfrontalto.wordpress.com/ and join in the creation of an online living history of Toronto buildings!