“This is what I listen to every weekday morning right after
the 10 o’clock news,” said Aunt Margaret. She was my great-aunt, actually— my
grandmother’s eldest sister— and I’d been sleeping on her couch near Mile One
in Victoria, B.C.
It was a CBC radio program called Morningside, hosted by Don
Harron. That was 30 years ago, and that program has been my morning companion
through the years, through Peter Gzowski as host, and then Shelagh Rogers. I listened to it from a house trailer
in a First Nations community in northern Saskatchewan. I listened to it from a
one-room log cabin with wood heat and no running water. I listened to it from a
shack on the side of a mountain in Kelowna. I could and I did and I’ve never
stopped listening to it, even when, years later, they created what I thought
was a dumbed-down version of the show and put Jian Ghomeshi as its host, asking
questions intended to be edgy (I guess) but I found simply unimportant and
dull… more of interest to a 19-year-old, apparently the new "age demographic" the
CBC was targeting. Since then the questions have become more interesting and
Ghomeshi has improved as a host (as, according to my friend Julie, he would,
with practice), and I still listen to the show when I have the
opportunity.
It makes me remember Aunt Margaret, long gone now, who
introduced me to the CBC and its many excellent programs. She also introduced
me to washing all the fruit and vegetables when you bring them home from the
store, before putting them into the fridge. And to the idea that a young man
invited over for a game of chess was being “forward” if he brought a bottle of
wine along. I didn’t agree with that one then, and I don’t now; I guess it was
a generational thing.
CBC Radio has been a good companion to me all these years,
many of which I’ve spent alone during the day. For a while there I read all the
Canada Reads books so that when they had the conversations about them during
the show I would know what they were talking about. After a couple years I gave
that up; some of the books were a boring slog and there is already too little
time in a life to read all the books that really interest you. However, the
Canada Reads event brought Canadian authors to the attention of Canadians, and
that was a good thing. There were some impressive books in there, certainly.
There were also some that got far more kudos than they deserved.
Shelagh Rogers as host of the morning show was likable and
when she gave that job up and began hosting The Next Chapter, an interview show
on Monday afternoons with Canadian authors, I was there with my bells on. Oh,
she could make those books sound fabulous! I’d get them from the library, all
excited … and then about half the time, if not more, I’d be sorely disappointed.
I’d find the writing poor, the editing seemingly non-existent, the — snooze. Oh
Shelagh, do we have such different tastes in books? Apparently we do, or, as my
internet acquaintance Eugene remarked, “She’s there to shill for CanLit.” She’s
very good at it, too. I’ve been suckered in many a time.
An occasional feature on Shelagh's show is “If You Liked That,
Then You’ll Like This.” That is usually a book by a non-Canadian, and this is one by a Canadian. Several weeks ago “that” was
Tina Fey’s Bossypants; “this” was
Kelly Oxford’s Everything is Perfect when You’re a Liar. I ordered them both from the library and started with
Bossypants. I was laughing out
loud by the time I finished reading the dedication, and chuckled all the way
through. Then the Canadian book was up. What a treat this would be! I thought,
until I read two chapters without cracking a smile (I wanted to be entertained! Yes! just like I want to laugh at
The Big Bang Theory, but
it’s.not.funny either. I know, the sitcom-watching world disagrees with me
bigtime but … take out the laugh track, folks, and I bet you won’t be laughing either) and decided to return it
to the library without finishing it.
And this is as close as I’m coming to a book review, because
really, what good are they? Aside from telling you a bit about a book’s plot
and characters (which I haven't done here, so this isn't even close to being a book review, is it?), reviewing a book is such a subjective affair. It truly is a
different-strokes-for-different-folks thing and tastes in literature differ
widely, not only between people but between different times in the same
person’s life. A book that is fascinating and informative and inspiring when
you read it at age 20 is often flat, dull and old hat when you’re 40. And
sometimes it’s the other way around. There are times in your life when a book
can move you, and times when the same book leaves you cold because it isn’t
what you need at the moment. I couldn't get through Proust's Remembrance of Things Past when I was 30, or even when I was 40, but I bet now I could.
I will always listen to and probably act upon book
recommendations made by my friends. Some of the books they rave about may be
stinkers, but others will be a revelation (Thank you, Bev, for introducing me to The Buckshaw Chronicles.) When you love books and reading, you
will be open to anything and make up your own mind about everything.
But I don’t trust Shelagh anymore. Fool me once, Shelagh …
fool me twice … but dammit, you fool me every time!
