Laughing while Canadian
In my first blog, about my inspiration for writing In the Frame, I mentioned two satirical books I’ve loved for years: Small World, by David Lodge, and The Hound in the Left-Hand Corner, by Giles Waterfield. Two British writers. What about Canadians? After all, we award an annual Leacock Medal for Humour, in memory of Steven Leacock. I have a vague recollection of enjoying his Sunshine Sketches of a Small Town when I was an adolescent, but I think they qualify more as gentle studies of human nature than barbed satire.
The Canadian writer who made me laugh out loud the most was Mordecai Richler, first with The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz, much later with Barney’s Version. I received that novel for Christmas 1997 and I fear that my work might have suffered in early January, because reading it in bed kept me awake until 3 am for several nights. My laughter shook off any drowsiness and I’d keep going. In his rambling memoir, Barney snipes at everything from Canadian small literary publishing houses to Hollywood television executives. Only his beloved Montreal Canadiens seem to escape his scorn: he left his own second wedding reception at the Ritz to ask the bartender about the score of a playoff game. (I’m reading Ken Dryden’s The Game now, which offers some insight as to why this team inspired such strong devotion.) Richler’s skewering of the Montreal he knew so well won the Giller Prize in 1997 and the Leacock Medal in 1998.
One way that I’ve learned about many contemporary writers is through my submission process for In the Frame. Several publishers request that you compare your submission to a book that they have already published, to help them gauge if your work is a good fit. That sent me scanning their websites, reading the brief descriptions of novels, trying to quickly assess what I could compare to In the Frame. The writer who most reminded me of Richler is Michael Tregebov. His novel Shot Rock, from the recently closed Vancouver publisher New Star Books, follows a group of Winnipeg men trying to save their curling rink. The thin plot is enlivened by well-drawn characters and raunchy dialogue. I can confidently say that it has one of the funniest scenes in Canadian literature concerning a line from God Save the Queen. I’ll leave it to you to discover it.
The literary world itself is the target of several Canadian writers. Russell Smith, in Muriella Pent, makes fun of everyone in the Toronto cultural world—writers, book clubs, university students, and arts councils. For a clever parody of a guide to creative writing, see Sam Shelstad’s The Cobra and the Key. Through the voice of an unreliable narrator who thinks his unsuccessful book makes him a writing mentor, this over-the-top novel provokes some wry smiles of recognition. A much more gentle poke at literary illusions can be found in Molly of the Moll: Literary Lass and Purveyor of Fine Footwear, by Heidi L. M. Jacobs. This whimsical novel won the Leacock Medal in 2020. Molly is an English Literature student who works in a shoe store at the West Edmonton Mall, so enamoured of the writers she studies that she constantly asks herself what Miss Austen would do. I laughed out loud at the juxtapositions of Molly’s idealized hopes with her mundane reality.
Ian Ferguson and Will Ferguson took on the theatrical world in their debut mystery I Only Read Murder. It satirizes a has-been actress through many funny examples of her diva behaviour. Curtains for Roy, by Aaron Bushkowsky, follows two friends on a trip from Vancouver to Kelowna. The curtains of the title have a double meaning, referring both to the theatrical milieu in which they work and to the fact that Roy is very ill. But don’t let that put you off. It’s a hilarious story.
The academic world gets its satiric turn in Suzette Mayr’s 2017 novel Dr. Edith Vane and the Hares of Crawley Hall. It’s a convincing portrayal of the many contemporary pressures faced by a professor: a business-minded dean, precocious younger colleagues, whining grad students. Its humour is dark and ironic rather than laugh-out-loud.
The Quebec writer David Turgeon’s novel The Supreme Orchestra is described as an art world parody but it didn’t achieve that for me, as it’s also a spy story and those features dominated.
While the arts are always a rich source of humour, some writers find it in other aspects of contemporary life. Ali Bryan’s The Figgs was a finalist for the Leacock Medal. Both it and a later novel, Coq, are fast-paced comedies based on quirky family relationships. I wouldn’t call them satire, but their rapid-fire dialogue makes for entertaining reading.
The cruise ship industry comes under fire in Will Aitken’s The Swells. It has a promising premise but veers into dark irony and violence that I found too outlandish. Deborah Hemming’s Goddess is more successful in its parody of wellness influencers. No laugh-out-loud moments, but I did appreciate its sharp depiction of an almost cult-like world.
There are 65 books submitted for the 2026 Leacock Medal for Humour. In the Frame is number 21. Seeing as I’m up against writers like Margaret Atwood, Ian Ferguson and Will Ferguson, and Mark Critch, my hopes have dimmed, but I’m pleased to see that Canadian literary humour is flourishing.