A tale of two realities
Americans take a page from the book of role reversal by
BY John Degen
Through the reading glasses, America used to be such a fun place—the land of Saul Bellow, Dorothy Parker and Mark Twain, writers who knew how to mix in the absurdly comical with their dire warnings. By contrast, we Canadians have tended to hunker down and expect the worst. We rough it, build garrisons, tell handmaids’ tales. A quick comparison of two fairly recent books, one Yank, one Canuck, suggests our traditions might be making a switch.
In 2004, American novelist Philip Roth published The Plot Against America, a historical speculation with a title chosen to market itself straight into the hands of the very people it was intended to criticize—extremist American isolationists bent on protecting the sacred homeland from a terrifying foreign threat. What? There’s a plot I haven’t heard of yet? I must send my secretary to get that book.
How disappointed they must have been, how scandalized, the Fox News set, to find they themselves were the subjects of this brilliant, anything-but-subtle novel. No doubt, there are a lot of dusty copies of The Plot Against America with uncracked spines languishing in red-state Goodwills. Too bad. Had they bothered to keep reading—or learned how to read—they would have discovered that Roth is far more generous and original in his criticism than am I; that he does not stoop to mocking his political foes as though they were a clan of mouth-breathing ignoramuses; that he understands political differences to be shockingly, terrifyingly slight in the practice of human society, and that good and bad are as present in those with whom we gather as with those we shun.
Roth’s conceit in his fictional “history” of mid-20th century America is that famous flyboy Charles A. Lindbergh won the Republican nomination for President in 1940, and then carried out a brilliant airborne presidential campaign. Combining heroism and the accessibility of a flying candidate, Lindbergh then beats Franklin Delano Roosevelt in a landslide. Of course, Lindbergh also happens to be a fierce isolationist and anti-Semite, an historical fact Roth is careful to document in a nonfi ctional afterward that includes one of Lindbergh’s political speeches of the era. President Lindbergh quickly moves to forge a co-operation agreement with Adolf Hitler, guaranteeing the U.S. will sit out the messy and inconvenient European confl ict that has nothing to do with their New World aims and goals. Cue the sound of over a million American Jews shifting uncomfortably in their seats.
In 2007, Canadian novelist Scott Gardiner published King John of Canada, a political speculation in which our fair country also engages in subtle tyranny. Seeking to distract and amuse a grumpy electorate and needing to replace the Governor General, the Conservative minority government of the day administers a lottery to appoint a home-grown monarchy. The lucky ticket holder is a fellow from Toronto named John, and his first official act is to dissolve Parliament and begin governing as king. Hilarity ensues and, strangely enough, life in Canada actually gets better (um, unless you consider Quebec an essential part of Canada).
Governed by a figurehead who needn’t always think of his political masters when making decisions, Canada begins to lead the world toward a true liberal utopia in which necessary aggressions are balanced by the civilizing infl uences of the arts. And it would have been a beautiful utopia, too, if our beloved king wasn’t assassinated by Republican forces from south of the border. Or was he?
In his brilliant book, Gardiner manages to skewer just about every sacred cow of Canadian political society, from the manipulations of separatists (all kinds of separatists) to each and every regional hobby horse. Westerners will guffaw when Quebec does a pratfall. Quebecers will sneer joyfully when western separatism is mocked. Everyone else in Canada will have plenty to chuckle over during the Toronto bits, while Torontonians will enjoy the too-brief shining vision of their own city-state, free at last from the jealous grasping of the regions.
For me, reading Roth and Gardiner in quick succession highlights a sad and gruesome difference between our countries these days. Not that Roth can’t bring the funny, but his book suffers from the same black cloud of doom shadowing that entire country these days. By contrast, Gardiner appears on the landscape like the smiling Canadian border guard who welcomes you back after your fun yet eerily disturbing trip to Buffalo, New York. Anything to declare? Just my hope that American writers find their sense of humour again after the next election.
