Spurway, Amy. 2019. Crow, A Novel. Fredericton, NB: Goose Lane.
I try to read local (CB) literature out of a sense of loyalty, if I can. I can’t read it all, of course, but especially when a CB author gets published by a respected (and selective) house like Goose Lane, I pay attention. The CBU library was kind enough to acquire the book hot-off-the-press.
I wasn’t sure about the jacket copy (“When Crow receives the worst kind of news, she abandons Toronto to return to rural Cape Breton”) and what seemed the promise of a “poor me” diatribe against growing up in CB (yawn). I half-expected the overused trope of coming-of-age despite abuse, yada, yada, yada.
But Spurway executes entertaining turns of phrase, a little like a Ron James monologue, but with punctuation – and a lot more cursing, fornicating, drinking and drugs. A prologue tells you right off what the outcome will be, but to therefore anticipate a pithy “gotcha” turnaround is a false notion. The surprise is no surprise, it concludes as promised – but with a lot more cursing, fornicating, drinking and drugs in between.
The novel’s geographic setting will be transparent to people from the area known locally as “The Northside.” That is, the towns and villages on northward side of Sydney Harbour, Cape Breton, and beyond: Bras d’Or, Baddeck, etc. I know both the geography and culture of the setting intimately, and consequently was at both an advantage and disadvantage. The disadvantage was a cognitive dissonance caused by the mashing-up of geographies. I understand why the publisher would want Spurway to transform the landscape to make it more universal, but for me it was a tad jarring.
As a consequence of that same “local knowledge,” I loved and laughed at many of the characterizations in the novel. There is an inherent (and inherited) personal bitterness on the part of most people here. Don’t let the good natured “come-all-ye” façade of Cape Breton fool you; life hereabouts has hardscrabble roots, and it shows. Spurway conveys some of that by means of an acerbic sense of humour founded on despair. At least, that’s how I read it. Make no mistake, it is cuttingly funny, if you have an ounce of cynicism with in you.
A couple of turns of phrase to relate, that for one reason or another I found poignant:
204 “A volunteer emergency responder named Fricker pulled her body from the car after they towed it out of the icy bay’s depths. She was already dead, but Fricker didn’t waste any time getting her out and wrapped in a blanket. He didn’t let them put her in a body bag right away. He held her hand for a few moments, smoothed down her hair and closed her eyes. Mama would have appreciated that. She was always afraid that death would give her that freshly caught smelt look.”
206 “Meanwhile, I’ve got a whore of a pile of funeral ham, because in Cape Breton, the only way to offer condolences is with food, and there are only three kinds of foods that show you mean it: casseroles, squares, and funeral hams. When the funeral hams do on sale down at the grocery store for ninety-nine cents a pound, you stock up so you’ll always have something to bring the family when somebody dies. Flossie Baker brought over the biggest slab of ham I’ve ever laid eyes on, cheerfully decorated with patterns of pineapple rings and maraschino cherries, all pinned to the meat with cloves. In fact, there’s not a lick of room left in the fridge thanks to the gargantuan ham, two cheesy hash brown casseroles, and a tub of goulash. And the pan of deep-fried chicken wings and some kind of noodles. Clearly, there are some rebels down the Middle Rear Road these days.”
207 “Hunger’s a wonderful sauce.”
212 “I draw the frigid February night deep into my lungs and hold it there before sending a sigh’s worth of my own exhausted, stagnant breath back into the world. As if the world needs more exhausted, stagnant air. I keep trying to suck in some peace, some relief. But all I get is cold and uncomfortable. With snot and tears frozen to my face.
I do recommend the novel. Oh, and while the finality of the ending is no surprise – well it is surprising that there is no surprise – there is lots to surprise you about the truth of personalities Spurway rails about throughout her narrative.