Book 48, That Summer in Paris (1963) – Morley Callaghan
“It was the fabulous summer of 1929 when the literary capital of North America moved to La Rive Gauche-the Left Bank of the Seine River-in Paris. Ernest Hemingway was reading proofs of A Farewell to Arms, and a few blocks away F. Scott Fitzgerald was struggling with Tender Is the Night. As his first published book rose to fame in New York, Morley Callaghan arrived in Paris to share the felicities of literary life, not just with his two friends, Hemingway and Fitzgerald, but also with fellow writers James Joyce, Ford Madox Ford, and Robert McAlmon. Amidst these tangled relations, some friendships flourished while others failed. This tragic and unforgettable story comes to vivid life in Callaghan’s lucid, compassionate prose.”

Other useful links:
the Wikipedia entry for Morley Callaghan

My thoughts:
I enjoyed this immensely, my favourite of Callaghan’s so far. Callaghan is a great guide to the literary world of the twenties. He was obviously well-regarded by his slightly older contemporaries, including Hemingway and Sinclair Lewis and Ezra Pound and James Joyce. I love his enthusiasm as he meets up with his idols one by one. In between stories of these encounters, he talks about his day to day (or night to night) routine of walking around Paris and discussing literary and other things in the cafés over wine, punctuated by weekend boxing matches with Ernest.

From a coming-of-age, portrait of the artist as a young man in the first part of the book, we move to an older man’s reflection upon the sincere friendship of three men gone awry in the last act. The breakup of the friendship of the three men over something so small and inconsequential was sad and unnecessarily unfortunate. Or, perhaps, according to Morley’s analysis of their natures, unavoidable.

Great, inspirational passages about writing as an art, an interesting description of a renowned time and place with famous people entering and exiting the stage, and a meditation on the vicissitudes of friendship.

Book 14, The Mountain and the Valley (1952) – Ernest Buckler
From the publisher:
“The Mountain and the Valley is an affectionate portrait of David Canaan, a sensitive boy who becomes increasingly aware of the difference that sets him apart from his family and his neighbours. David’s desire to write is the secret that gives this haunting story its detailed focus and its poignant theme.

Set in the years leading up to World War II and against the backdrop of the Annapolis Valley’s natural beauty, The Mountain and the Valley captures a young man’s spiritual awakening and the gradual growth of artistic vision.”

Other useful links:
the Wikipedia article on Ernest Buckler
the Wikipedia article on the Annapolis Valley

My thoughts:
This was an unusual book for me–I really liked parts of it and really disliked other parts–real mountain and valley stuff. Sometimes the writing seemed self-conscious and was a bit of a turn off and then other times it was absolutely brilliant. I didn’t particularly like David. He was really selfish and snobbish & disrespectful toward his family. I get that he was a bit of a square peg in a round hole, but at least when his family members did something that made him feel bad, they didn’t do it on purpose. I really enjoyed the parts about his parents–at times I wished the book had been about them instead of David, and his descriptions of the seasons and of Christmas were great too. I’m glad I read the book due to having read those passages alone (I mean it was worth it just to have read them, even if there had been no other good parts–and there were of course). It really did seem like a Canadian Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.