Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Your book as a seeming curse, and on being a conservative in Toronto

I sent off this note to Mr. Steyn after purchasing his book yesterday.

Dear Mark:

Long time, no write (remember "Wacky Wooing", re: the morality of using terrorist tactics - saturation/nuclear bombing of civilians - in order to secure professedly anti-terrorist democracies?).

So, I finally find -- and purchase (you're welcome!) -- your (my) book in Toronto, at the Indigo in the Eaton Centre (our Yonge & Eglinton Indigo location has NO copies to this date, at, arguably, the area of Toronto with the highest percentage of young, educated folks under 35 -- interesting). I've heard of censorship of imported materials by governments, but "censoring" a bestselling book by one of Canada's (most notable) own, making it unavailable in Canada? Huh?

So I am sitting at the downtown Indigo (as you know, the Barnes & Noble of Canada) reading your book while my daughter plays with the Thomas Trains (
Our Lady of Perpetual Help/TCDSB had a professional day, so school's off), and two pregnant women (it's the demographics, stupid) with kids sit down too. As I look up to monitor my daughter, I realize that both women are whispering and glaring at me. Both women are clearly Muslim, as their cultural dress indicates this. Both women are staring at, and recognizing, my (your) book of choice. I unwittingly stand up, figuring I have been rude, and that there is another woman nearby who deserves the chair I am sitting upon. No dice. It is the book I am reading which is at issue. Hey, I don't sweat it. So when we leave, and I am managing Cinderella nap sacks & lunch bags & jackets (it's still too warm for Winter coats -- global warming?), I unintentionally carry my book (your book) openly in my hand.

So Daddy goes with his daughter into the plaza of Toronto's City Hall to see the new
Cavalcade of Lights (not Christmas Lights/Tree, no) & say a prayer. With my book (your book) still in hand, my daughter runs around and demands new ice skates for the Winter -- and I notice that two men next to me are staring at my (your) book's cover. They exchange comments, laugh, and stroll away. Apparently I am simply a silly American sympathizer. Unfazed, I sit down with my daughter next to the ice rink. A burly red-headed guy walks by, and doing a double-take, looks at the bookcover, and, grinning, nods at me. Obviously, he must have been an upstate New York cop, on holiday.

We arrive at the subway and, as I cannot put my (your) book down while reading the hilariously depressing prologue, everyone around me can see what I am reading. At College Station, two University aged punk-guys get on, flashing body-piercings et al. One of these guys leans over, and proceeds (conspicuously) to peruse the cover of my (your) book. He snorts and shakes his head. They both snicker as they get off at Bloor & Yonge.

I finally arrive at Eglinton & Yonge subway station and meet several parents from my daughter's school on a day's outing, since school is off today. As we chat, my (your) 'nasty' book publicly beckons to them, and as they realize I may very well be the 'secret American parent' of the otherwise nice Jr. K girl (indeed I am!), the conversation falters and dissipates. My (your) book has ruined my daughter's chances of fun play dates with about 1/3 of her classmates. Moreover, I now face interminable mornings of chilly hospitality from my 'enlightened,' parental peers.

How has my (your) book already become taboo in a country where it has been manifestly unavailable? How is it that Canadians (N. Americans!), as a whole, have fallen for the anti-American clap-trap of the Europeans?

With Christmas greetings & best wishes, from a New Englander exiled in Toronto,

Tim
Toronto ON

1 Comments:

Blogger El Duderino said...

I think Desmond goes to the same sort of school, judging by the bumper stickers of the minivans. I would love to wear a Viva La Reagan Revolution T-shirt to the next parents night except I fear they would take it on on my poor kid.

6:54 PM PST  

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