Stephen Leacock Re-Tour -- coming here Sunday November 19

"Writing is no trouble; you just jot down ideas as they occur to you. The jotting is simplicity itself--it is the occurring which is difficult," said Stephen Leacock. Canada's first and greatest humourist died in 1944, but his work is still read and the Leacock Medal for Humour is awarded annually in his honour.

In 1937, he undertook a lecture tour across Canada. Eighty years later, Voyageur Storytellers Paul and Leslie Conway are crossing the country in his footsteps, giving a variety of Leacock-related presentations. On Sunday November 19, from 2 to 4 pm in the Labatt Hall at SFU Harbour Centre, the Voyageur Storytellers will present Stirring the Occurring, an event inspired by Leacock's views on the writing life.

Their performance will be followed by refreshments and casual conversation with the Conways. This unique presentation by Canadian Authors - Metro Vancouver is supported by SFU Continuing Education: The Writer's Studio and Liberal Arts 55+. Tickets are available here.

Glass Houses by Louise Penny

Louise Penny's latest novel deals with contemporary issues. In the face of ever-bolder criminals, the corruption and inadequacy of traditional Quebec institutions is thrown into sharp relief. 

As organized criminals plan to recruit new krokodil users,  freshly promoted Surete head Armand Gamache carefully plans his action against them. For a year, he's been gathering a team of with the integrity to face the fact that things may get worse before they improve. "It was an ever-evolving world, thought Gamache. Adapt or die."

Penny also probes the darker sides of friendship, using two couples who've been friends since adolescence. Using "'the tyranny of the weak,'" the dominant one is "not the one it would appear to be."

Jean-Guy Beauvoir, still working for Gamache, has a son. The fact that Beauvoir now wears glasses carries a multifaceted symbolic weight. Even as the spectacles demonstrate his increasing maturity, they also allude to what he has seen -- his hard experience -- as well as what he sees and does not see as an increasingly skilled investigator.

Isabel Lacoste, the new head of Homicide, enjoys watching Gamache and his son-in-law work together. In a moment of levity, she observes that "If ever two men were made for cahoots, it was these two. They were cahootites."

The atmosphere of the village is the same, and there are moments of playful humour to lighten the heaviness. The Gamaches still have their faithful dog Henri, a mutt of mixed breeds, whose ears seem to indicate that he has "some satellite dish in him." But he is handsome compared to their other rescue dog, described by Beauvoir as being pup, pug, pig or possibly wolverine.

This novel also portrays an ambitious politician, whom Lacoste must interview. Even though she is "not the cynical sort," Isabel always feels a "slight alarm go off when anyone answered 'honestly' to an interrogation question." On balance, she credits the woman with sincerity and true shock on hearing of the murder of one of her friends. Still, the police officer knows that "politics is theater."

Contemporary themes, sleight of language and a leavening of humour go together to make this another fascinating and absorbing Gamache novel.

Mary's Farm -- jigsaw perfection

In the late summer, this afternoon view from the parking lot of Mary's Farm in Surrey reminded me of the idealized worlds we see in jigsaw puzzle pictures.

Normally, I do jigsaws only in winter, but last week my neighbour had one out on a board in her kitchen. Of course, I couldn't resist her invitation to help finish it. We took it out onto the deck and worked there in full sunlight, imagining ourselves in the perfect world portrayed in the puzzle picture.

West side window a blast from the past

En route to a social at the Wolf and Hound with fellow choir members, I parked on a side street in Point Grey, just off Broadway. Dusk had fallen when I returned to my car, and I had to pause and admire this lovely stained glass window. Vancouver houses used to have loads of these, but they're quickly vanishing.

Years ago when we lived off Renfrew Street, a friend gave us a pair he'd rescued from a demolished house. My carpenter brother installed them in our house, since torn down.

Workplace memories of the YMCA

The other night, I walked by the YMCA in downtown Vancouver. Along with nearby St. Paul's Hospital and two lovely old stone churches, this structure evokes a rapidly vanishing Vancouver. 

This was my workplace in the mid 1980s. During a months long bus strike, I cycled here from East Vancouver. 

Among the rising towers around it, I can't help but wonder how much longer the old brick structure will stand.

Willan Choir season opens with colour coordinated musicians

Willan Choir director Patricia Plumley and Pianist and Tenor Eric Hominick discuss musical plans at a break in the first practice of the season.

I'm sure they didn't plan it, but both are wearing the same colour green.

Timeless music, ageless singers. We look forward to a great choral year of happy song, collaborations with local orchestras and other choirs, and a performance at the Chan Centre.

Thick smoke blots out the sun

That tiny pink ball between the trees is the sun seen from the back porch yesterday afternoon.

With the whole of our region now bathed in forest fire smoke, the people of metro Vancouver are getting a taste of what folk in the interior have been going through all summer.

The faint pinkish light and poor air quality are constant reminders of the forest fires burning all over BC.

Incident near Costco

Walking toward the relief of the air-conditioned store, I passed a man lying on the sidewalk with his eyes closed. His knees were bent and his boots were new. His clothing looked too warm for the weather, and he had on a small felt hat.

I leaned over and shook his arm gently. "Hey, Buddy, are you all right?" Waited in trepidation lest his eyes fail to open. A moment later he looked back at me blearily. "Are you all right?" I reiterated. He nodded. "Are you sure?" He mumbled assent, and closed his eyes again.

But clearly, he wasn't all right. In their brief opening, those eyes told the tale of serious illness. I continued toward the store, hoping they had a first-aider. Seeing an employee in the automotive bay, I decided to speak to him instead.

Good choice. When I told him there was a man lying on the sidewalk, he went into action, running in the direction indicated. Seeing that he'd taken control, I returned to the store, wandered around, and came out empty-handed. Enroute to my car, I saw the ambulance with lights flashing, and sighed in relief. Thank goodness for the garage man.

Making my way past a knot of people, I was pleased to see the ailing man sitting up. I nodded to the helpful employee. "Thanks for taking care of him."

"He's drunk," commented an ambulance attendant.

"But," I countered, "surely he's ill."

He nodded energetically. "He's ill all right. From drinking rubbing alcohol."

When my jaw dropped, he added more gently, "He's well known to us. A frequent flyer." I still gaped and he added, "Don't worry. We'll take him in to Emergency. They'll take care of him. Again."

Looking again at the semi-conscious man, I felt an impulse to do a namaste gesture, or to ask aloud that he be blessed.

But I suppressed this impulse. I'm not sure why. Still wondering. Was there something more I should or could have done?

Light touch of the Moth

The Moth gatherings are events where a lot of different people tell stories of things that really happened to them. The Moth: All These Wonders was published this year in New York, and it truly lives up to the title.

Some stories are hilarious, and some heartbreaking. All are deep and true and real. There's the terrified Orthodox Jew eating his first non-kosher pizza. The astronomer whose team works for years to have an unmanned spacecraft take close-ups of Pluto, only to find as the critical moment approaches that the aging onboard computer is failing. An Irishman on death row listens to his gaolers discussing payment for his upcoming execution for the murder he didn't commit. A guilty, fearful mother of a baby with Down's syndrome finds solace when a friend reminds her that things are as they are "because...and in spite of us."

While holding down a job as a messenger boy in New York City, a fifteen-year-old Texan teen spends a summer squatting in a mausoleum with an elderly drunken poet whom he admires. A newly married woman is dismayed that her husband shares custody of a dog with his ex, until a Facebook post prompts action. An African former child soldier decides not to reveal his harsh experiences to his adopted family, because he wants to reclaim some of the childhood he missed.

In North Korea, a Korean American teacher finds her students, "easy to love, but impossible to trust." She learns to forego judging them when she realizes the harsh necessities of survival in amid a web of propaganda and lies. A humanitarian worker risks his entire rescue mission when someone persuades him to take extra people. Because he can't make himself abandon the starving children, he creates space on the aircraft by seating emaciated kids on adult laps.

This is a wide-ranging and breathtaking collection of stories you'd never find anywhere else. In Vancouver in May, The Moth featured Carmen Aguirre, one of the city's well-known storytellers.