This is a book about hovercrafts. You'll also find an entertaining
story about Daniel Addison, a cynic/idealist who quit his job on
Parliament Hill after a harrowing encounter with a rubber plant and
an unexpected debriefing. As a means of breaking with his past,
Addison finds a job with the University of Ottawa's English
Department and in the process of moving into a rental boathouse
meets Angus McLintock, an engineering professor whose wife recently
died. Angus is building the hovercraft in his workroom.
Details about the author can be found at www.terryfallis.com so I
won't go into them here.
The novel is written in readable and generous style. For example,
p. 17
"Well, I don't think you're here to ask me on a date." I paused,
unsure of how to play it out. Concern clouded her face. "Oh,
please, tell me you're not here to ask me out," she blurted,
mortified. "I'm not here to ask you on a date," I conceded.
However, my predilection for minimalist writing often caused me to
rail against the wordiness of the text in many places. The above,
for example, could have been written like this, preserving all the
dialogue but letting the reader imagine the mortification:
"Well, I don't think you're here to ask me on a date."
I said nothing.
"Oh, please, tell me you're not here to ask me out."
"I'm not here to ask you on a date."
At times I wish Fallis had left more to the imagination rather than
guiding the reader through the narrative. This is probably more of
a personal preference than a critique though.
The politics are a bit blunt. Angus McLintock is a kind of
mythological character - gruff, honest, witty, and smart . . .
almost like Rousseau's noble savage with a doctorate in
engineering. His perspective on the relation between civic life and
politics is true to a certain idealism within liberal political
philosophy. For example, whereas the social conservative demands
repentance and forgiveness, the liberal looks for reciprocity and
understanding. McLintock also makes a passionate case for national
interest before personal interest - since the national interest is,
after all, our collective interest (ideally, without subordinating
one to the other).
Where the politics are a bit less obvious but effective is in his
very deliberate move to incorporate gender and gender issues.
Several of the characters in the novel are feminists, including
Addison and McLintock's sympathies. The novel contains a realistic
balance between male and female characters and if it doesn't
completely avoid stereotypes at least uses more than half a dozen
rather than one or two (the vixen, the intelligent and beautiful
graduate student, the warhorse, the gifted inventor, the wise
elder, etc.). A pro-feminist sympathy is simply rendered as part of
the texture of the novel and, in contrast to the misogyny of so
many classical texts or the hollowness of "chic lit," is a welcome
change of scenery.
The Canadian "left" doesn't really make an appearance, which is too
bad . . . the introduction of a discussion of "class" with regard
to personal and national interest might have been interesting.
As the novel unfolds we find that McLintock is the reluctant
servant, the brilliant everyman, the benevolent yet mildly naïve
do-gooder. Addison is the disenchanted flak catcher who must be
brought back into the fullness of civic political life. I found the
rustic image of McLintock a cliché but this is complicated by some
rather revealing and personal journal entries written to his
recently deceased wife. The majesty of McLintock is certainly
undeniable.
In many respects this is a coming-of-age story, a novel about
rejuvination and inspiration. All in all this is a very nicely
crafted feel-good story about provincial politics and the Ottawa
River.