Review: The Colony of Unrequited Dreams

I had the pleasure of re-reading a favourite book this week: Wayne Johnston’s The Colony of Unrequited Dreams. A book that wholly stood up to a second reading. Johnston has crafted a engaging historical novel, for which no awarenes or understanding of the history in question in required--though the book works on a whole other level for those knoweldgeable about Newfoundland.

For Canadians and canadophiles, the notion of a lifelong romantic entanglement between Joey Smallwood and (the fictious) Sheilagh Fielding having a formative role in Newfoundland (and therefore Canadian) history seems perhaps farcical. Until you read the book. Colony is, first and foremost, a great story told by a great storyteller. But like any historical fiction of note, Johnston embeds both facts into his narrative and infuses the narrative elements so convincingly one wonders if perhaps there really was a Fielding. And though the bulk of the book is written from Smallwood’s perspective, the journals, press clippings (she was a journalist), and private correpsondence of Fielding brings in new aspects of the story ... and an element of mystery.

It’s a gripping, entertaining, moving novel. Johnston’s subsequent work, The Navigator of New York is quite good, but not quite this good. This is the book for which Johnston will be remembered.

14 jours, 2 semaines, quelques heures

This time in a fortnight they’ll be clearing our lunch trays as we just about reach the halfway point between Sydney and Honolulu. 14 sleeps! Organizing things has proceeded in fits and starts. It’s all getting done--it all shall be done--but the stress level is notably higher today. Currently related to the disposal of our bikes (kapitalism sux), though no doubt we’ll find other fun thangs to be wiggy about in the days to come. Get wiggy wit it, yo word. Up. And ooh, our first sniping incident--about frickin’ time!

I went through my VIP wallet today and purged some formely important scraps of paper, in order to make room for newly acquired, newly important scraps. In collating things I found:

1. 30£, 90CA$, 30€
2. 12 system-wide AC upgrade certificates, 4 (useless) North America ones, 4 (useless) Maple Leaf Lounge passes
3. 3 valid (CA, EI, US) and 3 expired (2 US, 1 CA) passports
4. my ‘merkun birf certificate and my Oirish registration of foreign birth certificate

A few days ago I mentioned being wistful about leaving Australia. And I am. Here are some of the things I hold dear in my heart from my time in Australia

Bondi beach: for some the muscleheads and crowds are bothersome, but for us surf rats the waves on Bondi are among the most consistent in the metro area. Many were the mornings I’d scoot out, get 1-2 hours of bodysurfing in, then be back home for lunch. Entirely wonderful lifestyle

< b>Sundays at the Shift: Though it’s lost most of its vibe, for the longest time I paced myself through the weeks in increments of XX days until Oldies night. In far too many queer spaces the lads are uptight in hopes of being hip and kewl. But on Sundays pretty much nearly everyone sang along with Boney M, Blondie, Dead or Alive, Rick Astley and other 70s 80s and 90s pop acts. Yeah baby, pop. Get over it.

Flat whites: Australia’s contribution to coffee. Really a no-foam cappuccino, but no ones them as good as Aussies.

More to follow...