It seems appropriate that Russell Wangersky was published in the bestselling anthology What I Meant to Say: 25 Essays on the Private Lives of Men. His latest short-story collection, named this past week to the long-list for the 2006 Scotiabank Giller Prize, could well have been entitled What I Didn't (or Couldn't) Say: 17 Stories of the Private Losses (or Screw-ups) of Men.
The actual title is strangely accurate as well, for which of us, male or female, hasn't experienced a touch of madness at that certain "hour" in the middle of the night? "Bad decisions" also suggests a kind of helpless inevitability. Wangersky's characters cry out for understanding; the most strident of feminists could not help but be touched, and this reader is far from the most strident of feminists.
You would almost think these guys, Wangersky's 17 protagonists -- many of whom are linked by the name Hennessey -- must have a competition going to see who can be the most outrageous, illogical, bemused, pitiful. And there is that sense of inevitability. As in a chess game, events are set in motion. At what point could things have worked out differently? Most of these characters seem trapped by some sort of necessity, whether or not it makes sense to others. Do I hear Paul Anka's My Way playing in the background?
At the same time, you can't help but love them -- forgive me, my sisters. The guy who makes it with a co-worker and comes home to bed his wife; the hen-pecked fellow whose only weapon and escape is a hot tub; the chaps who burn things to get what they want or just to escape the pain; the sympathetic souls who get trapped in other people's games and tragedies; those who aren't paying attention and those whose jobs consume them and those who've simply given up.
All the self-help books and relationship books in the world aren't going to save these blokes. Yet Wangersky has managed to make the reader care about every one of them. They're irresistible, and they're going to break your heart.
Wangersky himself is anything but inept, however well he may understand the psyche. Editor-in-chief of the St. John's Telegram, winner of national newspaper awards and literary competitions for creative non-fiction, he follows in the great traditions of skilled Atlantic Canada writers and of newspapermen who've gone on to become bestselling, award-winning authors. Both traditions are evident in this collection. Several of these stories might well have been inspired by newspaper headlines – mild-mannered spouse goes missing; man chooses to go bowling (or renovate the family room) while relationship burns; male nurse harbours dangerous octogenarian; a sleep-deprived salesman and/or doctor courts disaster.
Most of the stories are set in Newfoundland, a few of them in the Maritimes. Perhaps they couldn't have been written anywhere else – aside from maybe Sinclair Ross's Saskatchewan – which makes it interesting that the book found a Saskatchewan publisher. These characters didn't rise out of burgeoning economies and a voracious job market. Though their lives are often peopled, they somehow aren't able to communicate what they need, and there's that inevitable tone of stubborn isolation.
It's a breathtaking collection that may seem all too familiar. It shouldn't be missed.
