NOVELS
I have written five novels. The first, Tangents, (I still think that's a pretty good title) was written as a teenager, still in high school. This angst-ridden tome follows the day-to-day tribulations of (wait for it...) a high school student, making his way through the hypocritical world of secondary education. If the novel has a theme, it would be how difficult it is to "connect" and find meaning. Hence, the title. I'm not sure where the manuscript is today--perhaps buried in a box in my basement. It was never sent to a publisher.
Most memorable about Tangents is how it provided me with the best excuse EVER for not having my homework done. I remember the morning vividly. I was in French class. I don't know why but all the high school French teachers I ever had were small, yet fierce women. This particular one would walk down the rows as class began and check the status of each student's homework. Finally my turn came. "Is your homework done?" she asked, fire in her eyes, her high heels clicking threateningly on the linoleum floors. Bleary-eyed I replied. "I'm sorry, Madame, I was up really late last night, finishing my novel." This was not the answer she was expecting. She paused for a moment, decided she would say nothing, then moved on to interrogate the next student.
Most memorable about Tangents is how it provided me with the best excuse EVER for not having my homework done. I remember the morning vividly. I was in French class. I don't know why but all the high school French teachers I ever had were small, yet fierce women. This particular one would walk down the rows as class began and check the status of each student's homework. Finally my turn came. "Is your homework done?" she asked, fire in her eyes, her high heels clicking threateningly on the linoleum floors. Bleary-eyed I replied. "I'm sorry, Madame, I was up really late last night, finishing my novel." This was not the answer she was expecting. She paused for a moment, decided she would say nothing, then moved on to interrogate the next student.
My next novel, The Charioteer, was completed during my second year of university (I did this rather than playing bridge). It follows the adventures of a young man traveling throughout Greece (as I myself had done the year before) and his encounter with one very unusual man who may be a reincarnation of a Bronze-Age warrior. This manuscript was sent to a couple of publishers and read by author Gwendolyn MacEwen who, like myself, was something of a Hellenophile. She said my writing reminded her of Gerald Durrell's. I had never read any of his books, but I figured this comment couldn't be all bad. The writer in residence at the U-of-T at this time was Josef Skvorecky. I seem to recall he read over a bit of the manuscript too and, in the end, I believe I sent it out to a few publishers.
The title refers to a magnificent bronze sculpture found in the museum of Delfi, in Greece.
The title refers to a magnificent bronze sculpture found in the museum of Delfi, in Greece.
I have no regrets about having become a teacher. It was a rewarding way to pass the decades, and did much for my mental good health, keeping me from leading an overly solitary life and helping me learn to interact with the world at large. The school where I taught in Nelson became my second home, and so much of what is good in my life grew roots there.
However, the writing bug could not be squelched forever. In 1994, returning from a year- long teaching exchange in Australia, I requested to be moved to a half-time teaching position—in large part so I would have time to do some writing. For several years, my writing energy was focused on stage plays, later radio plays. Gradually I began to slide back into fiction, short fiction at first, and finally into a new novel, after a break of almost forty years.
Hence, Willing, Lunatics, Big Ledge, The Draper Catalogue and QET and Other Anomalies. Loose Ends is my published collection of short fiction.
However, the writing bug could not be squelched forever. In 1994, returning from a year- long teaching exchange in Australia, I requested to be moved to a half-time teaching position—in large part so I would have time to do some writing. For several years, my writing energy was focused on stage plays, later radio plays. Gradually I began to slide back into fiction, short fiction at first, and finally into a new novel, after a break of almost forty years.
Hence, Willing, Lunatics, Big Ledge, The Draper Catalogue and QET and Other Anomalies. Loose Ends is my published collection of short fiction.
