Newspapers once had wildly popular columnists who came to be part of the fabric of their cities and daily must-reads — writers such as Jimmy Breslin in New York or Herb Caen in San Francisco.
In Victoria, we still have Jack Knox.
Knox has been with the Times Colonist since 1988, as a copy editor, editorial writer, opinion pages editor, city editor and — finally — columnist.
It turned out to be a perfect match. From his first days as a full-time columnist 16 years ago, Knox found a connection with readers on Canada’s far west coast. He shared their concerns and sometimes — OK, often — mocked them, challenging smugness or pretense. But always with a disarming, self-deprecating tone.
Writing a daily newspaper column four days a week is demanding, something like signing up for a job as a tightrope walker in a second-rate travelling circus. Setting yourself up as a frequently funny columnist, while still tackling tough issues, is like agreeing to juggle flaming chainsaws while you walk a high wire strung over a pit of broken glass.
But four days a week for 16 years — some 2,200 columns — Knox has managed to entertain, challenge and inform.
Now he’s published his first book, Hard Knox: Musings From the Edge of Canada.
Some sections are based on his columns, some are newly created for the book. It’s funny, but it also reflects Ian Ferguson’s observation in his introduction to Hard Knox.
“Jack Knox isn’t just a humourist,” writes Ferguson, himself an award-winning author. “He’s got a real job. He’s a journalist. He also writes incisive and detailed feature articles and incredibly moving and thoughtful human-interest stories.”
His work has been recognized with a Jack Webster Award as commentator of the year.
The book, like his columns, works because Knox is an Islander. He mocks our preoccupations — with the weather, house prices, the latest fitness fad and, most frequently, our smug sense of superiority over those poor benighted souls who choose to live places like Alberta.
“If this were a family reunion, Alberta would be the rich, surly uncle who shows up with an unfiltered Export ‘A’ in one hand and a bottle of Canadian Club in the other,” he writes in Hard Knox. “Ask an Albertan to choose his favourite fruit and vegetable — he’ll name pickled eggs and Spam. Or maybe deep-fried hippies.”
But there is not a hint of superiority or condescension in his writing. No lectures or finger-waving.
Times Colonist editor-in-chief Dave Obee says that’s an essential element in Knox’s columns, and his new book.
“Jack’s a sharp critic and skilled reporter,” Obee said. “But he doesn’t preach or lecture. Readers think of him as a friend, or the kind of person they wish they had as a friend — witty, insightful and decent.
“Humour is a often a tool for Jack that lets him deliver hard truths in columns while still keeping readers as devoted fans.”
I asked Knox for his thoughts on the book, writing and life on the edge of Canada.
Q: Why did you want to write a book?
A: I wanted something with some permanence to it, more tangible than the bits floating around online and more durable than fish wrap.
When I was a kid in Kamloops, my dad bought a book called Space Age, Go Home. It was a collection of humour columns by Eric Nicol of the Vancouver Province. I loved his stuff. (When I was 12 I got a Province paper route. A subscriber later told me it made him crazy to look out his window and see me parked in a snowbank, laughing while reading Eric Nicol in his paper.)
After I began writing humour — and people began responding to it — I started toying with doing a book like Nicol’s. Hard Knox isn’t a collection of columns, though there are several pieces repeated whole, but it’s representative of my humour writing. It’s like carving “Jack was here.” Mostly, I wrote the book because some people will enjoy it. That’s good enough.
Q: How different is writing a book from preparing four columns a week?
A: It’s weird not having a daily deadline. Writing a column, you do the best you can in the time you have, file it, forget it, and move on to the next one — though you always have those 3 a.m. moments when you wake up and wish you had done something differently.
With the book, I would have those 3 a.m. regrets, then go: “Wait, I can still go back and change it.” That was a luxury. It was like playing golf and getting a mulligan on every hole.
Q: The book is funny, and even sections that deal with serious issues have a light-hearted tone. What attracts you to humour as a way into stories, in the book and in your column?
A: Humour, particularly satire, is a great way to pound home a point when you don’t have a lot of time or space. It can be a more disarming, productive alternative to rage and despair. People sometimes get angry and say, “You think such-and-such a topic is funny?” and I reply, “No, I think it’s dead serious, that’s why I ridicule it.”(At least that’s what I would tell them were I more quick-witted.)
I draw a distinction between satire and stuff that just strikes me as funny, though. Some humour you can’t explain.
Q: You’re not actually that funny in person. (Note: Knox and I shared an office for several years.) How do you feel about readers’ expectations that you will be funny, in print or in person? Ever feel trapped?
A: I’ve become fatalistic about people’s expectations of me in person. You can see the disappointment seep into their eyes, and when they walk away you hear them whisper: “I thought he’d be funny.” Sucks to be them.
I do feel pressure to be funny in print, though, or at least to produce one funny column a week. It’s like racing Formula One: on the rare days when you’re hitting on all cylinders, you can’t believe you’re getting paid for doing something so enjoyable. But when you’re stuck at the starting line with an empty tank … .
Q: All your writing conveys an instantly recognizable Jack Knox style. How did you develop a distinct voice as a writer?
A: Trial and error. I was lucky to have the TC as a platform and its readers to let me know what worked and what didn’t. We have had a long enough relationship now that I know I can go off the wall and they’ll come along for the ride. It’s like having a friend who understands what you’re trying to say.
Q: When you look back at your working life, what gives you the most satisfaction?
A: Winning the Stanley Cup as a member of the 1979 Canadiens. That, and inventing Velcro.
OK, I have always believed in the power of journalism to build a better world, but have also been sobered by the idea that sometimes all I’m adding is more chatter. So when someone comes up and says “my dad and I used to read your column together in Tim Hortons” or “my husband is having chemo, but you make him laugh,” I feel like there are some days, at least, where I’m doing something positive.
Q: Your topic, ultimately, is Victoria. Could you have written the same kind of book — and columns — if you lived and worked somewhere else? Or is there something distinctive about this place?
A: Victoria has an off-kilter quality that lends itself to humour. This is the very edge of the country, as far from the mainstream as you can get, separated from other Canadians by geography, climate and culture, and sometimes it shows. The gap between our perspectives and those of other Canadians makes us ripe for satire.
And while I’ve never lived in a place where it’s so hard to peg the average reader (bureaucrat? hipster? sailor? retiree?) we still have enough in common that it’s possible to find humour in things that are familiar to us and no one else.
Q: What can people expect at the book launch?
A: Raw sexual energy. And snacks.
Hard Knox will be launched in Victoria at Munro’s Books at 7:30 p.m. Wednesday. Knox also plans an Island book tour that includes appearances at the Nanaimo Harbourfront Library at 6:30 p.m. Nov. 2 and Salt Spring Island Public Library at 3 p.m. Nov. 25. For a full list of events, go to heritagehouse.ca.
