I’m extremely honoured to be receiving this CBA Lifetime Achievement award. And thank you to all in the community who have been part of this lifetime in books—including my family—Graeme Gibson, my political advisor, who frequently says “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” and once kept me from running for Mayor of Toronto by commenting, “That would be a Norman Mailerish kind of thing to do;” and my daughter, Jess Gibson, an early and very astute reader of my work in draft.

And my fellow writers throughout the years—I first met Michael Ondaatje when he was 18, if you can imagine that; and the many booksellers; and the publishers; and the editors, two of whom are here tonight—Louise Dennys, and Ellen Seligman, without whose reading glasses I would be unable to make this speech. Thank you to all.

Though I’m finding the term “Lifetime Achievement” increasingly ominous these days. Possibly it means, “All right, that’s enough lifetime for you—now you’ve achieved it. Time to shut up.”

As the years speed by, and as one receives awards impossible to bestow upon anyone under, say, sixty, one begins to feel more and more like the English philosopher Jeremy Bentham, who ordered in his will that after his death he should be stuffed by a taxidermist and wheeled out every year to attend a dinner in his own honour—which request has been annually fulfilled, though bits are now beginning to fall off Jeremy.

Bits do begin to fall off—it’s inevitable—though I hasten to assure you that it was not my foot that was sent recently to the Conservative Party of Canada. I have not yet reached that stage.

We do however live in perilous times. Perilous in many ways; but, specifically, perilous for booksellers. I’ll get to the perilousness in a minute, but first, some nostalgia:

My own bookselling activities began in 1961, when, together with a friend, I hand–set my first poetry collection and printed it on a flatbed press. It had seven poems, and we didn’t have enough a’s, so we had to disassemble each poem before we could set the next one. The cover was printed from a lino–block, and the pages were rubber–cemented in—a mistake, as the rubber cement dried out shortly thereafter and the pages fell out. We made 200 copies of this book—wish I’d kept more of them, considering the increase in value—and went around to bookstores in Toronto, which were all indies then, except for Coles, which didn’t sell many Canadian books anyway. Some of the booksellers were kind enough to let us put these little books of mine on the magazine rack, where they sold for 50¢—we wrote the price on with a pencil. So that was my first bookselling adventure.

Then came the House of Anansi poetry years. By this time it was the later 60s, and the dreaded book tour was beginning to take shape. It was mostly poets—prose readings were in the future, and would arrive with the advent of the Literary Festivals that germinated right here in Toronto, with spores from the Bohemian Embassy and cross–fertilization from Adelaide eventually sprouting as Greg Gatenby’s Harbourfront International Writers’ Festival, and then spreading all over the world. But in the later sixties it was still only poets, travelling mostly on trains and buses from event to event, like the minisingers of old, and quite frequently sleeping on one another’s floors. And eating in greasy spoons. Horrifying fact: in those days there were no lattes.

The poets carted their own books around with them and sold them in person at their readings, which were sometimes in high school gyms and sometimes at universities—not yet at bookstores; bookstore readings came in the 70s. There were no credit cards yet: we collected the actual money in brown paper envelopes and took it back and handed it to the publishers. So that was my second bookselling adventure.

My third bookselling adventure came when I published my first novel, with McClelland and Stewart. It had been finished in 1965, but Jack McClelland had misplaced the manuscript, after the firm had already said they’d publish it. I knew nothing about big–company publishing then—but did it usually take that long? However, I then—surprisingly—won the Governor General’s Award for my first book of poems, The Circle Game, and Jack McClelland read an interview about it in the paper. (The interview was done by a returning Vietnam war correspondent. There was 27–year–old me in my orange mini–dress and black fishnet stockings, there was battle–hardened him, and neither of us knew what to say. Finally he blurted out, “Say something interesting. Say you write all your poetry on drugs.”)

The article in the paper revealed that I had an unpublished novel, and Jack wrote and asked to see it. I told him the company had been seeing it for several years, at which point Jack said we should have a drink. We had one—or I had one—and Jack blamed the disappearance of the manuscript on a woman who’d got pregnant; well, you know how that addles their brains. (In reality the manuscript was sitting on the floor of Jack’s office, under a lot of other paper. I was unsympathetic when I found this out—being young—but now that I lose things in my own office under a lot of other paper, I am more indulgent.)

So all was resolved, and the book came out in the fall of 1969. I was living in Edmonton at the time, and I did my first professional book signing in the men’s sock and underwear department of the Hudson’s Bay Company, thus frightening a lot of men who’d come in to have a peaceful experience with the jockey shorts and instead got ambushed by me, peddling a tome called The Edible Woman. A lot of galoshes went flapping off in the opposite direction, I can tell you. At last I was a published novelist, but was I now going to spend my life waylaying men in the socks department? I hoped not.

It was in Edmonton, too, that I discovered the bookstore as haven. Hurtig’s bookstore—run by Mel Hurtig—was a small oasis in a place and at a time that did not afford too many of them to artsy–fartsies from the distrusted Toronto. In the 70’s there were a lot of bookstore havens—in Toronto alone, for instance, the Longhouse Bookstore of glorious memory, Pages, Brittnell’s, The Book Celler. Books and Books. Many of them have gone to Bookseller Heaven, where they have been rewarded by a clientele that never asks for a book they don’t have, never pilfers, and never shouts at the booksellers or throws things at them. I burn a candle in their memory. Let us not forget that even now it is the indie bookstores who are most likely to discover and promote young, promising writers from smaller and more literary presses in Canada. They are the openers of doors.

Skip ahead ten years or so, to a time when Jack McClelland had made some kind of truce with the ornery Jack Coles, the upshot of which was that his authors were slotted into various Coles bookstores across the land to do signings. It was thus that I found myself in a Coles in a suburban mall in Winnipeg on a Tuesday afternoon. There was no one in the bookstore. There was no one in the mall. I sat at my little table piled hopefully with copies of Bodily Harm, wondering why I couldn’t give my books more appealing titles, such as How To Make Lots of Money, Have Great Sex, Be Universally Adored, and See God—playing with my rollerball or similar pen, and reciting to myself some bracing lines from Marlowe’s play, Doctor Faustus—“Why, this is Hell, nor am I out of it.” Finally the door opened and a lone man came in. Plonk, plonk, plonk, went his feet on the floor. He was walking right towards me! Brightly I smiled. He leaned over the table. “Where’s the Scotch Tape?” he inquired. “I think it’s at the back,” I said. And that was it. My forty–fourth bookselling adventure.

So much for the nostalgia—which is one thing the recipients of Lifetime Achievement Awards are supposed to deliver. They are also expected to say a few cheering and encouraging words about the future—a future at which they will most likely not be present except in a stuffed form, so they will never be held accountable for whatever predictions they make. Thus, always fun and safe for the predictor; though not always for the predictee.

Skip ahead to the present. Everything in Bookworld has changed; or enough has changed to make an always difficult business even more difficult. Gone are the days of the clay tablet, the papyrus, the scroll, and the first codex books on scraped calfskin. Gone are the days of first-blush Gutenberg, when the printer, publisher, and bookseller were the same entity, thus causing printers to be disemboweled for selling seditious pamphlets—hey, some things have improved for booksellers, at least temporarily! Gone too the advent of the first literary periodicals, once disruptive; and the rise and rise and rise of the big newspapers; and the invention of the glossy magazines; and the domination of the mass–market paperback book; and the novelty of quality trade paperbacks.

Yet more changes are predicted. Not a day passes without a new blog or online publication offering a gloomy scenario about real literature turning to confetti, or the death of the paper book, or the demise of bricks and mortar bookstores; or screeds about the all–conquering Amazon, which, having rolled the dice—Alea iacta est, as Caesar said as he crossed the Rubicon on his way to becoming a military dictator—is now bestriding “the narrow world like a colossus, and we petty authors, publishers and booksellers Walk under its huge legs and peep about To find ourselves dishonourable graves. (As Cassius says, more or less, in Julius Caesar; continuing: “The fault… is not in our stars, But in ourselves…”)

Things are in flux, to be sure. On the other hand, various shades of grey just sold five million hardbacks. On the other hand, those who buy more ebooks also seem to buy more paper books. On the third hand, large paper sales lead to large e–sales: the two seem joined at the hip. On the fourth hand, how do readers find books? How do people know what they want to read? From reviews, yes. From book clubs of various kinds, yes. From lateral recommendations via social media, yes. But the serendipity factor still comes largely from bookstore visits. It is there that you find the unknown unknowns—the books you didn’t even know you wanted. Now we are told that Amazon itself, having declared war on bookstores, may be about to open—a bookstore! What? Where? Why? My head is spinning.

And what about the much–disputed tug of war between e–forms and paper forms?

In my novel Oryx and Crake, the non–hero, Jimmy—a wordsmith who memorizes obsolete locutions—briefly has a job destroying paper books in a library. (He’s no good at it because he can’t throw anything out.) In the future, we are told, everything, but everything, will be online, and physical books will have gone the way of the dodo. But not so fast. First, who’s telling us that? Those who’d stand to profit, and have already profited. Second, the neurologists are now probing the difference between reading on the page and reading on a device or online. There is a difference for the brain, it seems, and that is one of depth and retention; and these are just the early findings. There has to be a reason why schools in Silicon Valley are not letting kids get their hands on computers before the age of eight. Third, anything in the world of e has a limited shelf life. The devices change—where are the music tape cassettes of yesteryear? In the same place the CDs of today may shortly be, once companies change the playing devices. And what did happen to all those floppy disks you once worked so hard with a hairpin to unstuck from your tiny–screened early PC? You can’t read them now. And all the rest of the seemingly–eternal devices will follow, because profits depend on planned obsolescence.

And, however it’s served up, electronic data is highly vulnerable, because it’s so easily degradable. Some are already predicting a black hole of information, wherein our entire history, having been digitized, will vanish. I ran a blog post two years ago called “Three Reasons to Keep Paper Books.” They were not the usual reasons—“I love the lush, sumptuous smell of new paper,” “I can give them as gifts,” “I hate e-reading,” “I can get paper books wet in the bath,” and all the rest. They were:

1. Solar flares—a good dose of them wipes electronic data.

2. Grid brownout and collapse—the electrical grid on this continent is fraying at the edges already, and the drain on it via computing devices is enormous; and all things e depend on massive supplies of cheap energy, reliably delivered.

3. Internet overload. As the net expands, its capacity must be increased and increased. Which in theory it can be, via more server farms, but they are still vulnerable to 1 and 2. And bandwidth itself is not unlimited. (A hazard just mentioned by David Pogue in The New York Times.).

When the power goes off, you won’t be able to read on your e–device once the battery runs out. But you can read a paper book without constant energy input. Not only that, they make great insulation, and—in a pinch—good kindling. The best choice for readers is both: e–forms, for rapidity of access, searchability, and portability; and paper forms, for in–depth reading, durability, and tangibility. Most readers want both. And the best choice for booksellers and publishers is to be able to provide both.

What both forms deliver is stories. It is not stories themselves that are in any way threatened. Storytelling—narration, whether fictional or non–fictional—will not disappear as long as there is human language. As Robert Bringhurst has said in his very suggestive book, The Tree of Meaning, “Stories are the reproductive organs of languages.” They are how language transmits itself. Narration is built into us; it’s most likely one of the evolved adaptations that were selected for in the Pleistocene because of the survival value they conferred, and it is thus very ancient, and resides at the core of our humanity. We understand our world through the stories we tell ourselves and one another about it.

One rationalization going around is that since people are natural story–tellers, they will tell stories anyway—everyone does, unless they’ve lost their short–term memory—and they will do it for nothing, so why pay? The online world swarms with websites and social networks devoted to this proposition, and very successful some of them are. In the equation A via B to R, in which A is the author and R is the reader, B stands for any mode of transmission, including the traditional publisher–distributor–bookseller chain, but also including the online site–device–connection provider chain. Two tin cans and a string, as in those walkie–talkies people of my age made as kids; and it’s the string that’s under dispute, because it’s the string that’s been making the money. Some would like the string to make more money by having the author make less, or none; others have recognized the value of “content providers”—don’t you love the idea of, say, Tolstoy, as a content provider?—and are luring authors to their own bit of string with promises of more pie. Or at least some pie. As an author, I’m not against that. But it is always R—the reader—who pays. Even if books are so–called “free,” R is paying for the device, the connection bill, and so forth. All string money comes from R. Without R there would be no string.

So what should booksellers do? Foster R, to be sure—help the spread of literacy and reading as much as they can—but also, improve their string. Show the value they add to readers and writers both, and then add more value. And we must recognize that we’re all in this together—writers, string providers, and readers. It’s a triangle, it’s always been a triangle, and without one corner—any one corner—the other two cannot stand. And the sooner we all recognize and honour that triangular situation, the better things will be for all.

I’d conclude with some words about the importance of reading, and of choice, and of the absence of censorship, and of the evils of monopolies, but I’m sure you know all that. So I will simply say: Thank you very much for this touching honour. It’s been a grand journey—the journey of the bookfolk—and it continues. Long may you all be traveling companions upon it. As for me—let me quote the great Russian content provider, Alexander Pushkin, from his Farewell to the Reader at the end of Eugene Onegin:

Whoever you are, my dearest reader,
Friend, enemy, n’importe qui,
Let me part with you equitably.
Farewell. Whatever you have sought from me…
I hope you will find a grain or two.
With that we part. And farewell to you!

Thank you, very much, again.

To celebrate the exciting day, Random House of Canada and Indigo Books & Music brought a six foot tall ice sculpture carved in the shape of 3 dragons to Indigo Manulife on a rainy Tuesday morning. There were even two copies of the book embedded in blocks of ice! Luckily, no one tried to chisel them out. (Click the images to enlarge.)

Many came up to the sculpture, bewildered that it was actually made of ice, but alas the water dripping from the dragons nose was all the proof they needed. Adults, teenagers and children all came out to take pictures with the sculpture and send their tweets to @indigogreenroom, the Indigo Events twitter account, for a chance to win a copy of the coveted book.

Many fans also tweeted their pictures to the author himself at @InheritanceCP, who happily tweeted back exclaiming that he loved the ice sculpture idea. The fun continued the following Saturday at Chapters Queensway where a second sculpture was showcased in the afternoon.

Are you reading this series?

But she was also equal parts poignant and intelligent; she had a fascinating take on how the singer Adele’s popularity has busted the doors wide open for traditional songwriting to return to radio, and how she turned the traditional image of beauty onto its head.

After she left the stage, guests were treated to hand massages (from Jergen’s, the event sponsor), and lots of tasty treats. We left with a swag bag of goodies, but most importantly we left with the impression of being in the presence of a true superstar — Jann Arden is talented, down-to-earth, a real ham, and a gifted writer.

Abdallah Daar and Peter Singer have attracted international acclaim for their breakthrough work in global health. Based at the McLaughlin-Rotman Centre for Global Health in Toronto, they have advised various governments, the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation, the United Nations, UNESCO, and the World Health Organization.

Prior to the launch, the doctors spent a very full day doing interviews to promote their book. They visited CTV’s “Canada AM,” AM640 “The Arlene Bynon Show,” CH TV, and sat down for a great discussion with Sandro Contenta of The Toronto Star.

The Grandest Challenge is an incredibly accessible and provocative look at technological innovations and medical breakthroughs that are bringing life-saving treatments to the developing world. Brimming with fascinating insights, innovative solutions, and dynamic optimism, it offers the very real promise of a better world – for all its citizens. It really is a must-read book.

I certainly never expected to be invited to Brian Francis’ Natural Order launch on my first day! As a publishing student you dream of the opportunity to do real work and attend functions just like the one I had been invited to. Having never been to a book launch before, and being from Manitoba and unfamiliar with streetcars, I armed myself with my Metro Pass, a Google map, and a sense of excitement. Finally I felt like I was starting my career, and was doing something that felt special.

When I got there, the launch didn’t disappoint my eager expectations. Housed at the beautiful Gladstone Hotel, the launch was everything I was expecting and more. I was met with welcoming smiles, I was introduced to the author, and I was surrounded by like-minded individuals. As more people trickled in, the sound of stimulating conversation floated through the air and made me realize that at that moment that I had made it; I finally felt a part of the industry I have for so long admired and loved. For the rest of my life I will remember the experience of my first book launch as being not only a wonderful event celebrating a worthy piece of fiction, but as the marker to the start of my career in the publishing industry.

Ami McKay

The much-anticipated follow-up to the phenomenon that is The Birth House, The Virgin Cure secures Ami McKay’s place as one of our most beguiling storytellers. Ami McKay’s work has aired on CBC radio’s Maritime Magazine, This Morning, OutFront, and The Sunday Edition.

Catch Ami McKay in: Toronto, Winnipeg, Calgary, Vancouver.

Guy Vanderhaeghe

Multi-award-winning author Guy Vanderhaeghe’s eagerly awaited new novel, A Good Man, is a dazzling follow up to his bestselling The Englishman’s Boy and The Last Crossing (a Canada Reads winner!). Vanderhaeghe’s fiction has appeared in numerous anthologies and literary journals across Canada. His books have been published internationally in many countries outside of Canada, where his reputation is steadily growing.

Catch Guy Vanderhaeghe in: Saskatoon, Winnipeg, Toronto, Banff, Edmonton, Toronto

Kevin O’Leary

Kevin O’Leary is the co-star of CBC’s Dragons’ Den and The Lang & O’Leary Exchange, as well as Shark Tank on ABC in the United States. In Cold Hard Truth, Kevin O’Leary shares invaluable secrets on entrepreneurship, business, money and life.

Catch Kevin O’Leary in: Toronto, Saskatoon, Winnipeg, Ottawa, Vancouver, London.

Are they coming to your city?

I know you don’t want to miss a moment with your favourite authors, but time and again, we hear from book-lovers that they just don’t know about events until it’s too late. Don’t let it happen to you, BookLoungers! Sign-up for one of our local Event Newsletters to get a handy guide at the start of every month.

Hi, my name is Anabella and I’m ten years old. I really like the Penderwick books and as you might know the third book is coming out on May tenth. I was just wondering if you are doing or could do something for the coming out of the book? I would really love it if you did! Sincerely Anabella age ten.

For those of you who haven’t read the books, they are a series of books for young people about a family called the Penderwicks who believe in truth and honour, yet can’t seem to stay out of trouble. There’s oldest sister Rosalind, responsible for the rest; stubborn, feisty Skye; dreamy Jane; and shy little Batty, whose best friend is Hound, a large dog more loyal than obedient. The third book in the series, The Penderwicks at Point Mouette, has just been released. Jeanne plans to write two more books about the Penderwicks.

When Phyllis read Anabella’s letter, she got right on the phone to Random House, and discovered that Jeanne Birdsall was touring to Seattle and had time in her schedule for a trip to Vancouver. It turns out that there were lots of fans of the Penderwicks in Vancouver and the event quickly sold out. Thanks to Anabella for making it happen! We hope you had a great night.

The pictures and words in a graphic novel are equally important and as such, both should be treated with the same amount of attention and care. Not used to working with images or artists? That’s where your friendly neighbourhood Graphic Designer can lend a hand. Designers have a deep appreciation for the language that is created through the relationship between carefully selected images and minimal text. Our ability to analyze and communicate with other visual thinkers makes Designers valuable assets when it comes to graphic publishing.

While a steep learning curve may be involved, with the right team members, even a house that has little experience with graphic novels can produce successful titles. Take for example Scott Chantler’s Two Generals, McClelland & Stewart’s first foray into originating a graphic novel, which has earned two prestigious Eisner nominations. (The Eisner Awards are the Oscars of the comic world). This WWII story based on the author’s grandfather’s war diary, has also become many readers’ first graphic novel experience. Its appeal stretches from middle schoolers, where the book is included as part of the curriculum, to their grandparents.

Lesley Fairfield’s Tyranny was Tundra Books’ first attempt at a graphic novel. Tyranny is a very personal account about eating disorders. It is a very valuable story for all women, but especially women who struggle with body image. Tyranny’s many accolades include being selected for the New York Public Library’s Stuff for the Teen Age List, a YALSA selection and a GG Finalist for Children’s Literature.

Graphic novels are a high art form and enriched story telling experience. Do not let fear of the unknown stand in the way of reading comics.

There are a few events coming up for those interested in learning more about graphic novels.

April 30, 2011 – For those curious to learn more about working with graphic novels, the Toronto branch of the Editors Association of Canada is offering a course that will send you in the right direction.

Toronto Comic Arts Festival — May 7-8, 2011 @ The Toronto Reference Library. FREE to attend.
There won’t be any attendees dressed as superheroes here! Know as TCAF, this world class event focuses on literary comics. This is a great opportunity to meet high profile comic creators from around the world, discover a hidden indie gem or purchase some original art.

Free Comic Book Day – 7 May, 2011.
Just as the name states, comic shops world wide offer a sampling of free comics to their patrons. Visit the FCBD site to find participating stores.

McCall Smith appeared at the Toronto Public Library as part of The Globe and Mail Open House Festival. He was introduced and interviewed by CTV’s Seamus O’Regan. The two are quite close by now, I would imagine: they’ve been together for nearly 2 days filming segments for the myriad of shows Seamus hosts. Plus, they are Twitter friends.

In his most delightful accent, McCall Smith treated readers to an excerpt from his forthcoming 44 Scotland Street novel, The Importance of Being Seven. He warmed up the crowd by introducing Bertie Pollock and his friends. Young Bertie has misplaced his mother, accidentally sending her to Romania in a trunk of unwanted clothes. In the excerpt, Bertie and his friends imagine what might happen to her along the way. By the end of the scene we were all laughing, and McCall Smith was struggling to finish before he began to chuckle himself.

“Are you laughing at your writing or at the audience’s reaction to this scene?” Seamus asked as the author took a seat. McCall Smith explained that he was laughing at “the kids”, how honest children are in saying the worst things to each other. “Kids are psychopaths.” he explained.

During the interview, he revealed some of his writing habits: Did you know that he can write about 1000 words per hour? And, he’s not a visual creator, he doesn’t see the scenes and then describe them. Instead, he hears the characters. “They speak to a beat.” He explained, and then he records what they tell him. McCall Smith claims he can write just about anywhere, and that his only real “ritual” is that he likes to listen to music while he writes. He also revealed that he has turned many of his dreams into short stories, including one set near Pisa about a man who tries to rent a car and ends up with a bulldozer.

It was hard not to be charmed by Alexander McCall Smith, both for his humour and his intelligence. My only question now is which of his 5 series should I start reading? Which one is your favourite?

Did you know that April marks the 50th anniversary of the Bay of Pigs Invasion? (It took place on April 17, 1961) Alex related that event to the situation in Haiti and what’s happening throughout the Middle East and Africa: people are pressing for democracy, making this book is more timely than ever. But the brunch wasn’t all doom and gloom. Alex captivated the audience with conspiracy theories (Apparently JFK and his top staff had dinner with the creator of the James Bond series and he offered some suggestions how to creatively get rid of enemies. The next day, the CIA asked the author to lunch) and thoughts on who killed JFK. Alex told the crowd that she didn’t know who killed Kennedy – if she did, then she would have been speaking to us from her yacht in the Caribbean! This drew a hearty laugh from the crowd. She ended her talk by saying “sometimes, truth really is stranger than fiction.”

Thrilled that she could add Toronto to her already hectic schedule, Alex mentioned that when she comes to Toronto again (she really likes it here) that I have to include a visit Niagara Falls. Alex was so happy with the books and brunch event that she is going to discuss the idea with some of her book store mates in London and see if they can do something similar.