I've followed the world of literary prizes for long enough not to be surprised by which books are nominated, or go on to win: every jury is different, and reading is entirely subjective, so shortlists and prize recipients often (read: almost always) differ wildly from my expectations.
All that being said, I was genuinely flummoxed earlier this month when the longlist for the 2012 Scotia-bank Giller Prize was announced, and The World, the new novel from Victoria writer Bill Gaston, was not among the nominees. It's not that I felt he was entitled to inclusion - he was shortlisted for the prize in 2002 for his short story collection Mount Appetite, but that has no bearing on the current prize - or that any of the other books weren't deserving; I was confused because The World is so damn good I had a hard time even imagining a Giller longlist on which it didn't appear.
I still haven't really gotten over it.
The World is something of an understated marvel, an exploration of mortality, morality, loss and acceptance under a veneer of dry humour, a stylistically complex work that reads almost effortlessly.
The narrative begins when Stuart Price - divorced, and recently retired from his job as a high school shop teacher - accidentally burns down his house. The house he built largely with his own hands. The house he finally paid off using a lump sum from his retirement. In fact, the fire starts after he burns his mortgage papers on the deck.
But it gets worse: for the first time in his organized, regimented life, Stuart has forgotten to pay a bill. His house insurance, in fact.
The loss of his home, and the uncertainty of his financial future, ignites a change in Stuart. He takes to the road, embarking on a cross-country odyssey, headed to Toronto to see - for the last time - his old friend Mel, who is planning to commit suicide as her esophageal cancer worsens.
The World, which begins as Stuart's story, a hilarious road novel, shifts perspectives, first to Mel's story, with Stuart as a supporting character, then to the story of Mel's father Hal, institutionalized and only occasionally lucid as Alzheimer's takes its toll. With each shift the novel changes tone, but after momentary adjustment this results in an enrichment of the individual characters, rather than a distancing or diminishment. The reader has a thorough knowledge of Stuart by the time he arrives in Toronto, for example, but seeing him through Mel's perspective shifts that knowledge, and adds to it.
Underlying the three separate narratives, and the thematic heart of the book, is The World, a novel which Hal wrote as a younger man. The book within the book is the story of the discovery and translation of a diary from the leper colony on D'Arcy Island. It's a historic find, pointing to the existence of a female resident/captive on the island, but the book itself is a story of love and betrayal between the academic who wants to publish the diary and the young woman whom he hires to translate the pages. This fictional book resonates with its own emotional weight, and its inquiry into truth, love and the power of words illuminates the larger triptych of narratives.
The above sounds complex, and rightly so, but in Gaston's hands The World unfolds with a breezy ease that belies its power. Far from an academic or stylistic exercise, The World will break your heart, and begin the slow process of putting it back together. It's the sort of book that should be winning prizes, let alone being longlisted for them.
