When I read The City & The Pillar in
1996 I sought the book out because of a review I’d read in which the
book was described as unsentimental. It was the first time I’d ever
heard this word to describe a book. At that stage of my life I thought
any sort of writing was a form of sentimentality; there is something to
be said about casting away navel gazing urban middle class malaise and
trying to get to the heart of what counts, even if its awkward. There is
something to be said about doing it almost sixteen times in a debut
collection.
Hamilton, Ontario-born Rebecca Rosenblum’s Once
is an achievement and a bit of a signal post for Biblioasis. The
press is proud of the book, and goes out of its way to let you know.
Rosenblum’s writing is popular because it doesn’t seem to be put on.
Rosenblum’s writing is a success and is excellent because it attempts
and succeeds at being heard. It is concise, loquacious and brilliant. It
does not mimic the prehistoric 1990s sarcasm genre of fiction or attempt
to partake in the cheeky rash of David Sedaris worshippers/ wannabes who
roam the hipster halls of CanLit boy writing. Her language is clean,
gritty and at times poetic. Her dialogue is sharp and when required,
arrowhead cruel.
Like all fiction collections, there are flaws.
Some of the stories tend to meander on and on with their capable hard
working and hard thinking characters but its not enough. The
inconsequential actions appear inconsequential, bordering on
self-absorption or vacuous physicality. There are characters here that,
no matter how well written they are, are simply not charismatic enough
to sustain interest. However, because Rosenblum writes them so well, I
am convinced that I am not interested in them. Like being described a
person and thinking, wow, I never want to meet them. Thankfully
almost the entire collection is brimming with interesting people.
The best part of the 16 stories that make up Once
is they vary in tone, style, POV and subject matter; for the most part
being hyper-melodramas or expanded vignettes of the working class. But
it’s the intricacy that Rosenblum uses in her work that makes any
skeptic of her trail-blazing debut balk in acceptance. It isn’t just
working poor romantic situation we’re reading, nor the arbitrary
pedestrian observation but a genuine concern for detail and a deliberate
attempt to clean the reader’s road as they set themselves down to
witness her character’s journey.
In "Linh Lai", and "Pho Mi
99", you get the sense that Rosenblum, winner of the Metcalf-Rooke
Award, really worked and suffered to create a thoughtful and authentic
separation of state between her the conscious creator, and the
non-existing cerebral core of her characters. A marvelous book, full of
lively rage and occasionally dense, always daring and perhaps most
importantly, in today’s young urban writing showcasing an onslaught
carnival of "you know" and other cheap turns of phrases, Once
seems original and genuine.
