The most recommended books about Canadians

What I adore about this book—which Carol Shields wrote a few years after winning the Pulitzer Prize for The Stone Diaries—is how it mingles the quotidian and the fanciful and the fantastic.

The quotidian takes the form of the very ordinary details in the life of the titular protagonist’s middle-aged life: The small things that Larry frets about, his ordinary conversations in Winnipeg coffee shops, his very relatable miscommunications, and even his fairly typical penis (there’s an entire chapter called “Larry’s Penis”).

Then there are the fanciful touches—for example, Larry makes garden labyrinths for a living (not a run-of-the-mill profession), and streets that don’t intersect in the real Winnipeg do intersect in the novel.

As for the fantastic, the novel ends with Larry having a vision of how his life might have gone in a happier alternative reality. 

A thriller with a kick-ass premise: Chloe wakes up on the side of a highway not knowing who the heck she is or how she got there.

It’s a haunting, scary, unnerving story about a woman trying to figure out what could have happened to completely wipe out her memory. What I love about the novel is how Wong’s relentless pace matches lockstep with her protagonist’s frenzied and fractured state of mind.

Bits of the past begin to slip through the cracks as Chloe searches for the truth. I love that Wong chose to tell the story from Chloe’s POV so we’re only privy to what this messy character remembers—or chooses to tell us that she remembers. Twisted, damaged characters with secrets are my cup of tea.

This is a book of poetry written by one of Winnipeg’s many Indigenous authors.

I love the poems—their economical lines and vivid imagery—but the poems also don’t shy away from some ugly truths about Winnipeg: Namely, the centuries of racism that have devastated the Indigenous people who gathered for thousands of years where the city’s two rivers meet—the Red and the Assiniboine. The same racism that contributed to the death of the poet’s brother and led the police to dismiss his disappearance for months as simply being due to drunkenness.

Vermette’s poems tackle these hard truths and challenge the reader not to look away. This book of poetry helped me see that not everything about Winnipeg is the way we’d like it to be. 

In 1984, a 15-year old Indo-Canadian Maya travels with her father to India to consign her mother's ashes to the Ganges. Prime Minister Indira Gandhi is assassinated the very day they arrive and Delhi descends into state-sponsored carnage as Sikh men and women are held collectively responsible. Separated from her father, Maya has to find her way home. This novel in verse is by Canadian writing across ethnic and religious lines. As a Sikh, I am familiar with details of the pogrom. Instead of applying the usual Western label of “senseless violence” Ostlere sensitively explores the impact on two ordinary young people.

This book by an award-winning Canadian novelist mixes memoir and essay. The memoir is set in New Brunswick’s Miramichi region in 1961. Richards has no use of his left arm; his best friend is going blind due to diabetes. They are in their last year of playing hockey. Woven into that story are other memories—including of distasteful meetings with people who don’t like the sport—as well as his thoughts on the game and its place in the Canadian psyche. Hockey Dreams is highly personal, so it may not be for readers, but I loved it. 

I love books that make me feel like I’m living in another time period—and this book, set in Winnipeg in 1913—does that in spades. In fact, speaking of “spades,” Sam Spade, the protagonist of Dashiell Hammet’s The Maltese Falcon, is surely one of the inspirations for this mystery novel’s protagonist, Sam Klein, a hard-nosed detective.

The novel’s author, Allan Levine, is a historian, and the vivid details he pulls into the plot target all of our senses (including smell—Winnipeg’s streets weren’t paved in 1913, and horses were still more common than cars!). Levine also draws upon the prejudices of the era—Sam Klein isn’t accepted by the city’s elite because he’s Jewish—and he paints a compelling portrait of the city’s gritty neighborhoods and corrupt city politics. 

Hopkinson’s stunning debut plunges the reader into a wildly inventive future Toronto. She seamlessly weaves together the politics of race, class, and gender, inflected with the rich culture and history of the Caribbean diaspora.

Despite the grim post-apocalyptic setting, the characters are part of a community, surviving through solidarity and mutual aid. There are no easy answers or neat resolutions to be found here—the fraught, tenuous connections between families and lovers are messy and grounded.

Sadly, many of the elements of this 1998 novel have proven prophetic, and this book is still a clarion call 25 years later.

The development of military neuropsychiatry in the Mediterranean and European theatres of operations in World War II, through the work of the Royal Canadian Army Medical Corps is vividly recounted through interviews and primary documents of those involved. The immediately pressing concepts of battle stress and exhaustion and a soldier’s breaking point are addressed by scientific methods, including personnel selection interviews by psychiatrists to determine the emotional and temperamental stability of recruits and thus their assumed effectiveness as soldiers. Fundamental tensions between military imperatives and clinical practices are particularly revealed. I highly recommend this book for its insights into the tensions between medical intentions and military imperatives at times of intense, sustained combat.

I have been “running” Louise Penny’s Inspector Gamache mysteries since the COVID-19 pandemic began in 2020. I don’t read mysteries usually, but hers are addicting.

This book would make a fine Christmas-time read. It tickles our thinking about “the divine” and about being human. 

This Penny murder mystery takes Gamache and Beauvoir into the Quebec wilderness to a monastery known for its chanting. The monks here try to “touch the divine” in everything they do while distancing themselves from the recent killing.

I love the author’s thematic artistry with light and darkness, as well as her sensory threading in a monastic setting that attempts to minimize it. As with the characters, our senses are activated all along the footpath of the mystery reveal. 

I love this book because Robert Service is the most famous Canadian author and writes about adventuresome people who don’t fit in.

The poet descriptively pens events foreign to that experienced by most everyday, common people, and romanticizes his characters in such a way that the reader can’t help but have empathy for them and their situation.