Beyond Ken Dryden: A Memoir
Oren Safdie
Linda Leith Publishing
104 pages, softcover and ebook
Hockey is an unofficial religion in Montreal. Even if you care little for the sport, once playoff season arrives, you’ll undoubtedly find yourself among the throngs of people packed into bars and sprawled out on the streets, craning to see a television and praying the Habs will make good for the faithful. The playwright and screenwriter Oren Safdie is a believer and carries that spirit into Beyond Ken Dryden, which finds him skating through the ups and downs of his childhood, alongside his devotion to the Canadiens.
The memoir delivers quick hits of nostalgia, which those worshipping at the altar of hockey will recognize. Safdie fondly recalls the triumphant Hockey Night in Canada theme song, the national fervour of the 1972 Summit Series (in which Dryden kept goal for Canada in that historic game 8), and how the commentators Dick Irvin and Danny Gallivan made everyone feel like part of the action. His most affecting tale involves watching game 4 of the 1976 Stanley Cup final as his parents fight, covering himself and the TV with a blanket “to try and block them out.”
It appears little was done to bolster the book—which originated as “a collection of memories that I stitched together into a one-man show”—with the substance one expects from the genre. Filling just over a hundred pages, the brief anecdotes and conversational tone would indeed be welcome on the stage, but genuine soul-searching and reflection are in short supply. It seems that Safdie’s father, Moshe, the famed architect of Habitat 67, carved a path of emotional destruction through the family. But how Oren feels about that, aside from a reflexive dislike for his father’s second wife, he keeps to himself. Instead, all he can offer are rink-based platitudes. When life brings unexpected change, for example, the “best you can do is try and adapt to the new coaches, make an effort to fit in with the new players, and remember that family can take on many meanings.”
—Kevin Jagernauth
Tougher Than the Rest
Dina Del Bucchia
Arsenal Pulp Press
224 pages, softcover and ebook
Dina Del Bucchia’s satirical flair is on full display in Tougher Than the Rest, a collection that unites a host of women scraping by in a dystopian Vancouver. The book’s nine stories flit among overworked wage-earners, smoothie-obsessed influencers, and boozing trophy wives, while exposing the detachment and financial strain needed to survive in one of Canada’s most expensive cities. The chief developer of urban sprawl, Platinum Corp, appears as an evil presence throughout, erecting its menacing billboards under a miasma of wildfire smoke.
Del Bucchia skewers the absurdities of contemporary life with such precision that these accounts hardly feel exaggerated. In the title story, a young woman freelances as a “Comment Custodian” for EverEverStream (a stand-in for YouTube). But when she sends a concerned DM to BigBossFan69, who is exhibiting signs of depression, her job is jeopardized and the account mysteriously vanishes. “Dirty Deeds” takes a more sinister approach to disappearance. When another struggling Vancouverite joins Platinum Corp as an executive assistant, she is surprised to find that she spends much of her time planting produce in a vacant lot that once housed a gas station. While the company cannot legally build on the contaminated ground, “community gardens are permitted” as long as they are only “growing things you might eat.” What—or who—might be hiding in those raised beds?
Each story shares a name with a rock song that, in some way, speaks to the central issue at hand. “Night Moves,” after Bob Seger’s anthem for youthful backseat romps, features a lonely woman who buys a second-hand sex robot that quickly becomes a replacement for a human partner. “At night I come home, sit him at the two-person table, and tell him everything about my day,” she confesses. It’s just one example of how the capitalism of Tougher Than the Rest substitutes the real for the material.
—Caroline Noël
Cover Artist Q&A: Sarah Farquhar
What’s the story behind this cover?
I named this piece “Such a Night” after one of my favourite Dr. John songs. It’s meant to evoke a sense of nostalgia—a memory of swimming on a warm late summer evening. The story I like to tell myself is that the woman and her dog had to squeeze in one last swim before fall. That felt fitting for the September issue.
Are there any contemporary artists that inspire you?
It’s tough to name just a few! If I had to, I’d say Lorenzo Mattotti, Jillian Tamaki, Brian Blomerth, Ping Zhu, Lily Rose Fine, and Adam de Souza. All were instrumental in helping me find my own voice as an illustrator.
What is your creative process?
I keep a big shelf of art books, comics, and storybooks next to my work zone at home. I love digging through them before kicking my imagination into gear. While I typically illustrate digitally, this piece was created in coloured pencil on Yupo paper. I had it in my mind’s eye for a long time and wanted to nail the vision—so I did several small mock-ups to get the colour, texture, and feel just right. I also explored different papers, but I loved the translucent effect of the Yupo.
How has your style changed over the years?
My style went from not being cohesive at all to being a little too cohesive, where I felt like I only had one voice, which didn’t always work well with the story I was illustrating. Now I sort of have three different styles for different moods and themes. This will probably continue to grow and evolve and maybe eventually merge back into one.
Inside the September Issue
“Among academics, I suspect I’m not alone in struggling to reconcile the moments of joy that university life affords—witnessing students come alive in seminar, savouring that exhilarating book that reshapes my thinking—with a sense of systemic brokenness.” Spencer Morrison asks, Where does higher education go from here?
Ruth Panofsky reviews The Lost Season: A Memoir of Infertility, Motherhood, and the Worry and Work Demanded of Women, by Stacey May Fowles. “Her grief softened, making room for hope.”
“John Boyko presents his hero as besieged by cost cutters and naysayers.” Michael Ledger-Lomas on the inventive life and times of Sandford Fleming.
And much more!