This morning, the 23rd edition of Canada Reads program launches. I’ve missed the voice of a career writer in the program in recent years and now, with Heather O’Neill’s inclusion (whose Lullaby for Little Criminals was a previous Canada Reads winner) as a champion, my affection for the program’s reinvigorated.

Even when I wasn’t hearing/watching each episode live, I’ve noted the nominees, reading 103 of the 116 books championed over the past couple of decades. (Nothing wrong with the 13 I’ve not read…maybe I’ll get there yet.) This year, I’d already read two of the shortlisted books, so I set about gathering the other three. (Before that, there was a longlist; my Canada Reads page records shortlists and longlists.)

As usual, there’s an element of readability to each volume because these are novels intended to appeal to a variety of readers. I set myself the challenge of describing each in seven lines in my journal, including a single quotation.

Carley Fortune’s Meet Me at the Lake straddles two timelines, ten years ago when Fern meets Will for the first time (also the last time she saw him) and the present-day when she returns to the family’s Muskoka resort to determine next steps following her mother’s death, the very place Will’d agreed to meet her nine years earlier. The Toronto scenes are even more vibrant than the lake country, and it’s the first time Canada Reads has featured a romance.

“It’s not everyday you decide to change your entire life,” one character says. (This isn’t at the end of the novel, it’s not a spoiler.)

Jessica Johns’ Bad Cree is a page-turner of another sort; it could be shelved with novels like Eden Robinson’s Trickster trilogy. When Mackenzie’s dream life trespasses on her waking life, when the crows position themselves between the worlds beckoning her closer, she returns home for the first time since her sister’s death. Some humour, some horror: a touching story of family and friends.

“‘More important than a ten-thousand-dollar dual dab? I don’t think so.’ She hangs up, and I wait for [Auntie Doreen] to call me back, because I know she will. There is concern in her voice. Even though we talk at least once a week, I know never to call on bingo nights.”

Catherine Leroux’s The Future (Trans. Susan Ouriou) is the longest and most intricately plotted and structured novel of the group, a story set in post-industrial Fort Détroit (in an imagined future wherein this area remained under French rule while governance was still a thing). Still, it’s character-driven and raises fascinating questions about how we cope (and don’t cope) in the face of rapid and extreme change, and is the only book to gesture dramatically to the future (not just with its title).

“Right, the rebellion. It started with strikes, demonstrations. But with change not happening fast enough, it ended in an actual uprising. Like when you get a pot boiling that’s already too full.”

I love a coming-of-age story and Téa Mutonji’s Shut Up You’re Pretty features a strong and individual voice. I read these stories when the collection was nominated for the Writers Trust Award. She captures the rapid change and inertia of becoming one’s self beautifully, with a young woman who’s moving through life and experiences too quickly and, simultaneously, feeling stuck.

“I decided to swing when it got dark enough that I could pretend I was fucking the night. I was giving it all I had, really trusting my body. I could hear Julie’s voice clearly. ‘You trying to pop your cherry on a swing, Mermie?’”

Christina Wong’s Denison Avenue is the story of Henry and Cho Sum Wong, who married and lived in Chinatown for decades, long enough for them and their neighbourhood to change substantially. Changes captured in words, but also in richly detailed pencil sketches by Daniel Innes.

“Yee ga heng gnoi day got henghow wa gee lan la,” Rita added. (It’s getting harder to hear our mother tongue [Toisin wa] these days.)
Irene sighed. “Geem gnoi day lor ngin ga jor lay hwuy. How figh morning gong,” (And us old folks dying. Soon there will be no one to talk to.)

“One Book to Carry Us Forward” is the theme this year. These themes sound important but they feel interchangeable. And the focus on One Book draws attention to the idea that it’s ultimately the winner which matters in this event, whereas I prefer to think of the program as an opportunity to introduce five books to readers.

Inevitably each year’s thematic phrase is wielded by a champion against the other books, as though there really is just one book capable of connecting with readers in this specific way, and it feels silly. What does a marketing slogan have to offer, alongside the power of storytelling. Why not call it “Five Books to Carry Us Forward”? Wouldn’t we all feel that much more supported by stories, with five books beneath our wings?

When the discussions open at 10am, there will be five books on the table, and I’ll enjoy that single moment of cooperative spirit. Often the host Ali Hassan demands that the champions speak to the value of the other champions’ books: that’s often my favourite part.

There are eleventy-billion links to follow from this CBC page, which offers everything from the event’s history to champions’ biographies to 2024 media coverage to accessibility details for each title. Enjoy!