Paul Quarrington (1953–2010)

I read this while traveling in the Galapagos myself, and it was a delight to read about the author's experiences on some of the same islands that I visited. In addition, the author was travelling with his seventy-three year old father, Bruce, and his seven year old daughter, Carson. I was travelling with my seventy year old father, also named Bruce, and my younger sister. Quite the coincidence!

Paul Quarrington needed an idea for his next novel and decided to combine his desire to travel to show more the Galapagos with an exploration of fatherhood, Darwin, and his feelings about evolution and creationism. The result is an amalgam of travelogue, memoir, history, science, and philosophy. It's also very funny at times. Despite it's many facets, it reads quickly and is well-researched. I learned more about the Galapagos, and I laughed out loud more than once on the airplane while reading. It paired well with the more scholarly work, The Beak of the Finch, as an introduction to the islands and Darwin. show less

This was a good book but not a great book I would say. I'm still not sure why it beat out Not Wanted on the Voyage in the 2008 Canada Reads unless it's because the judges thought something humourous should win. And yet it's not laugh out loud funny. More the kind of wry grin of recognition funny. It is certainly Canadian unlike the other two books by Quarrington that I have read, Galveston and Whale Music, both of which largely take place in the USA.

This book will definitely appeal to show more hockey fans but I think the message is broader in scope than that. Leary, like most people at the end of their days, has things to be proud of and things to regret. He has outlived almost all of his friends but sees a way to make amends. I'd like to be able to make amends to some people and I imagine most people would. So I'll be pondering that message for a while. In the meantime maybe I'll have a glass of Canada Dry ginger ale! show less

Another winner from Mr. Paul Quarrington, whose awesomeness I came to much too late. This lively tale is the first-person narration of Percival "King" Leary, former hockey legend and now "agèd and infirm" resident of a seniors' home, soon to be the star of a ginger ale commercial. Along the way he tells his life story, with his memories of the past intruding upon the present. Hilarity ensues.

I knew I would get along splendidly with this book for two reasons: one of Leary's teams is called show more the Toronto Maple Leaves, and when I opened the book to slip in the library due date receipt, the page I landed upon began with a loud burp, rendered most elegantly by Quarrington's onomatopoeia. I am secretly five years old in the humour department, so onomatopoeic burps and statements like this make me make very undignified faces on the bus as I try not to laugh out loud:

"...ginger ale is the boy for me. It's sweet and bubbly and makes your toenails curl. If you down a whole can, you can belch in a truly horrifying way, like a dragon about to eat a maiden." (p. 3)

Leary's narrative keeps the reader moving along and chuckling throughout, perhaps laughing out loud if an observation or just plain bizarre scene catches you off-guard. It also kind of reminded me of the narrator of Barney's Version, by Mordecai Richler, except the chronology is easier to follow and there are no footnotes. But if you liked that book you might enjoy this one, especially if you're a hockey fan as well, as I'm sure there are other references I missed in the text. But even if you're not a hockey fan, the cast of characters is quite lively, and the narrator charming in a older-fella-who-can-say-what-he-wants kind of way. Recommended for those who like their Canlit on the funny side. show less

An entertaining, informative and emotional-without-being-mawkish book that is a fitting sendoff to the late Paul Quarrington. This book was originally intended as "Notes on Music" or the history of the song, but Quarrington's diagnosis of Stage 4 lung cancer added a different thematic twist, the notes on "Life". Music was a key part of Quarrington's life, and here he shares anecdotes about his vaunted youth as a bluesman from Don Mills, his friendship with songwriter Dan Hill, and of course show more his band Porkbelly Futures. He also manages to slip in plenty of interesting musical tidbits about various popular bands, give a sort of condensed history of popular music, and even introduce technical concepts that would normally fascinate only the hardcore guitar geek (but here they become quite readable).

Humour is never far from the surface in this book -- it is stated that the tumour is afraid of laughter, so Quarrington is determined to laugh and make that sucker flee. The tone is self-deprecating but still lighthearted, and I personally found his onomatopoeic representation of a soundcheck quite amusing. Other situations are rendered amusing by the matter-of-fact delivery, while still others are made by the clever turns of phrase. (I had to laugh at his comment about how he, being 56 and dying of lung cancer, would glare at elderly people, especially if he saw them drinking, smoking, or eating the wrong foods.)

Quarrington writes well with a good eye for detail; for example, he describes the fluid that is aspirated from the lung (or environs?) as being the same brown as English bitter, as if he had been drinking so fast that in his haste he poured a few pints down the wrong hole. He brings well-known music figures to life with judiciously chosen traits, such as Richard Bell (keyboardist for The Band)'s penchant for telling really horrible jokes.

And because this was Quarrington's last book, it ends with a brief but very touching postscript written by a drummer friend of his, as well as the lyrics to his last two songs. (The book also comes with a CD that has these songs on it.)

If you're a Quarrington fan already, this book is a must-have. It also comes recommended for music fans who like colourful, readable memoirs, or people who are sick of all those doom and gloom cancer memoirs -- this one celebrates life, and music, which some would argue IS life. show less