Bruce Stagg’s collection includes a dozen short stories – well, one is more a recitation – inspired by a pre-Confederation Newfoundland, a culture “uniquely preserved in tiny, isolated fishing communities” where life “was rudimentary, often arduous, but also romantic.” The author introduces them by explaining, “As is the case with all fictional writing, the author and the narrator are not the same person. That being said, ‘The Old Man Is Me’ is a book of fiction infused with truth.”
The point of view changes from piece to piece from first to third person and back, from a young boy to an elderly man, and from First World War veterans, fishermen, sealers, teachers, longtime lighthouse keepers, to a doctor fresh out from England. The settings also shift from small pre-Confederation outports to 1920s New York, ranging into 1970s university classrooms and dining halls, and post-moratorium Toronto.
There’s a clash of wills, a forced apology and a clandestine visit to Thompson’s shop that spirals into disaster, with repercussions ebbing into adulthood.
They’re often rooted in childhood, which is not to imply they’re simplistic. “The Secret,” for example, has layers and complexity and avoids an easy answer. Its core is a series of conflicts between the unnamed young protagonist, and Conrad Thompson, also known as Old Thompsie, “a self-proclaimed theologian,” who had married the local merchant’s daughter. His regular sermons and visits to the Sunday school are enough to keep the children terrorized, but his rigid, inflexible interference doesn’t end there.
“My next face-to-face encounter with Old Thompsie occurred the summer I turned 12, and it led to an episode that was, without doubt, the worst of my childhood.”
There’s a clash of wills, a forced apology and a clandestine visit to Thompson’s shop that spirals into disaster, with repercussions ebbing into adulthood.
Then there’s the stakes of “The Last Shot.” A long string of bad luck finds Freddie’s family in dire straits. “Christmas was a meagre time. No fresh coat of paint on the parlour walls to welcome a Christmas tree. No bottle of spirits from the city to record in the liquor book. No keg of homebrew beer tucked away behind the kitchen woodstove. No smell of spicy cakes permeating the pantry. No toys from the mail-order catalogue for little William. No non-essential presents for 12-year-old Freddie. No pretty dress or shiny shoes for (his mother) Mary.”
And now Freddie’s dad has gone on the seal hunt, something he promised Mary he would never do. She had pleaded with him to go to the merchant instead and ask for extended credit, but he has sworn against that. To Freddie their last hope is if he can shoot a bird for supper; everyone is desperate for fresh meat. His father has shown him how to use the gun — but there are only three shells left…
There’s a different kind of challenge to face in “English 1000.” Richard is the first person from Rocky Gorge to ever go to university. “When he stepped from the taxi onto the university campus, he felt as if he had landed on another planet. Large buildings made of bricks towered into the sky. Some were adorned with fancy carvings, some were rectangular, others were asymmetrical, all had too many windows.” He finds his dorm room, and awaits his new roommate, who turns out to be Tunda, from Nigeria. They immediately bound over the love of music, especially playing the guitar.
But Richard runs headfirst into his first obstacle in his first class, English 1000. Professor Wellman expects students to deliver verbal presentations to the other students, a real problem as Richard is painfully shy, and self-conscious of his accent. “At one point, several pretty girls in the front row snickered. Richard chuckled also, not because he saw the humour in the situation but to hide his mortification.” Scaling that requirement feels insurmountable. “He had other classes on his schedule for that day, but he attended neither. Alone in his room, he reasoned that he had made a huge mistake in leaving Rocky Gorge.”
But then Richard notices Tunda, eating alone at a table in the crowded dining hall, and realizes everyone has problems fitting in and feeling comfortable.
Among the other stories, “Poor Norman” ends with a real kick, while “In Pursuit” stacks up the dread over just five pages. Bullies make repeat appearances, as do loving parents who teach by example, and the odd mysterious stranger or visitor. The central characters are always tied to home, even when this is a place to which they can never return. Memories aren’t rose-coloured, exactly, as recalling a community time also means recollecting nearly freezing to death on the ice, or starving in March.
It’s thoughtful writing, and an easy read.
Joan Sullivan is editor of Newfoundland Quarterly magazine. She reviews both fiction and non-fiction for The Telegram.
