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I have learned to hate Calgary for three reasons. And speaking earlier tonight, at Pages on Kensington, I laid them out to an audience of book-lovers.

 
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Turns out Saskatoon IS ready for me. This morning, 7:45 a.m. at Global Morning TV, host Kevin Stanfield got Our Hero talking. Cutting-edge Canada, 50 Canadians, almost 40 per cent women, Joni Mitchell of course, Margaret Atwood, Leonard Cohen, the VIA-Rail ocean-to-ocean book-tour extravaganza, the train ride itself, the easy-to-enter contest that can win you a $5,000 travel voucher. Here's a link to the 4-minute broadcast. Did we miss anything? Oh, here's that contest link. Now, if only Our Hero would learn to sit up straight. . . .

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Later today, Sheena and I embark on a VIA-Rail journey that will extend from ocean to ocean, Pacific to Atlantic, Toronto to Vancouver to Halifax. The above photo, shot a couple of weeks back, finds us on the east coast of Orkney with the North Sea behind us. But the North Sea adjoins the Atlantic, and that is good enough for me.  Besides, the alternative was an image of our departure point, the construction zone that is Toronto's Union Station. So I opted for metaphorical truth.
As you can see, our bags are packed and, oh look, how did that get there? We're heading out across the country to promote 50 Canadians Who Changed the World, which will start turning up in bookstores next week. Yes, Alice Munro is in the book. So are David Suzuki, Naomi Klein, Marshall McLuhan, Irshad Manji, Wayne Gretzky, Samantha Nutt, and a host of other Canadian world-beaters. We're talking cutting-edge Canada. And we're on our way.

We were moving in the same direction. Today's lead editorial in the Toronto Star noted that "as Thomas Hardy did with Dorset, and William Faulkner did with Yoknapatawpha County, [Alice] Munro chronicled and mythologized her corner of southwestern Ontario." In 50 Canadians Who Changed the World, coming next week, I put it this way:"When readers contemplate Jane Austen, Thomas Hardy, or William Faulkner, they think of the fictional countries those writers created -- Jane Austen Country, Thomas Hardy Country, Yoknapatawpha County -- and how sojourning in these various worlds has changed the way we experience our own lives. To suggest that Alice Munro has done the same by creating a distinct and recognizable 'Munro Country' is not just plausible, but irrefutable."
But then the Star took what I view as a wrong turn: "When [Munro] began publishing in the late 1960s 'Canadian literature' barely existed, or was hived off in the bookshop ghettos of 'Canadiana.' Now the Atwoods, Ondaatjes, Martels and so many others win international prizes and take Canadian writing around the world."
I would suggest that the 'hiving off' and the global recognition are unrelated. No, I would go further.  I would argue that Canadian writers have achieved international acclaim DESPITE their disappearance as an identifiable collectivity from the shelves of Canadian bookstores.
Not long ago, I visited the main Waterstone's bookstore in Edinburgh. One entire wall -- one long wall, floor to ceiling -- is devoted to Scottish books: fiction, biography, history, travel, children's, crime, you name it. Yes, it sells books. And it serves additionally as an assertion of national identity: we are here!
A short while later, in Dublin, I visited the Eason bookstore in O'Connell Street. This time, I found one long wall, floor to ceiling, offering Irish books: fiction, biography, history, travel, children's, crime . . . . it's glorious.
Here in Canada, we went wrong when we moved away from devoting sections and walls to Canadian books. Yes, Canadian writers were complicit in this. Apparently, we needed to prove that we could stand with the best in the world. Well, now, surely, we have done that, and we can stop acting out this national inferiority complex. Let's admit that we made a mistake and bring back the bookshop ghetto. Bring back Canadiana.

Celtic Life International. In the latest issue, Fall 2013, we find Our Hero straying off the beaten track. . . .
We got lost in the dirt roads north of Clonakilty. We were looking for the spot where Michael Collins got ambushed. According to historian Tim Pat Coogan, Collins was  “the man who made Ireland.”

  In “Clon” itself, as they call it, a busy town 330 km southwest of Dublin, we had seen the house where, as a boy, Collins lived with one of his sisters. We had admired the larger-than-life statue of the legendary figure. And we had followed the signs to nearby Woodfield and explored the site of the family homestead.
 But as evening fell we headed north towards Beal na Mblath, roughly along the route Collins followed in August 1922. The movie Michael Collins, starring Liam Neeson, made that final journey look easy enough. We had a Google Maps printout: how hard could it be? . . .
 . . . Finally, we spotted it: the white stone cross that marks the spot where Collins died. As we stood there, alone in the evening, I realized that this would be a highlight of our driving adventure in Ireland. Looking back, I can not only confirm that, but add that most of our peak moments arose when we strayed off the beaten track.
Yes, we got lost. We got lost in Kinsale, looking for a stone chair. We got lost hunting the birthplace of the Irish saint who founded the monastery at Iona in Scotland, and then again, seeking the lakeside castle that, late in the 16th century, served as a base for pirate queen Grace O’Malley.
But when we did reach our various destinations, we would find ourselves alone: no tour buses, no hordes of souvenir-hunters. With the Irish “Gathering” already in full swing, and more than 300,000 people expected to visit in Ireland this year, some travellers may yet be looking for that more private experience. In our “hire car,” we drove 2,200 kilometres in three weeks and got lost half a dozen times. But we would repeat this journey in a heartbeat. (To read the rest, check the nearest magazine outlet or else www.celticlife.com)

Our Hero surfaces in the latest issue of Destinations drawing on what he learned while writing 50 Canadians Who Changed the World. The magazine, published by VIA Rail, turned up this delightful image of Leonard and Joni. And it makes intriguing mention of your chance to win a $5,000 travel credit with VIA Rail. I'll keep you posted. Meanwhile, here's how the article begins . . . .


New York City. A thirty-three-year-old Montrealer took up residence in the Chelsea Hotel on West 23rd Street and began crooning his poetry to anybody who would listen. His name: Leonard Cohen.
A few blocks south of the Chelsea, in Greenwich Village, a young Saskatchewan woman who had recently fled a broken marriage was paying the rent by singing songs in the folk clubs where Bob Dylan once played. She called herself Joni Mitchell.
 A one-day train ride to the north, in Montreal, a twenty-eight-year-old academic from the Ontario wilds was revising her first novel while teaching two courses at Sir George Williams University. This was Margaret Atwood.
These three Canadians, who grew up in Montreal, Saskatoon, and Toronto, would emerge from the ferment of the 1960s to forge global reputations as ground-breaking artists. The three would become friends. For a few months, two of them, Cohen and Mitchell, would be lovers.
But what, beyond personal interactions, do these three have in common? I found myself wondering about that as I researched them for 50 Canadians Who Changed the World. And it occurred to me that Cohen, Mitchell, and Atwood, shaped by the Zeitgeist of the 1960s, have never ceased to champion the countercultural values of that decade.
[For the rest, pick up the September/October issue of Destinations.]

Our Hero says goodbye to the statue of John Rae, erected in the heart of Stromness on Sept. 30, 2013 to mark the explorer's 200th birthday. Yes, Rae lives on in the hearts of many. This statute will be the first thing you see when you get off the ferry from mainland Scotland, which is a great way to arrive.

Stromness offers plenty of excellent accommodation, but we recommend The Shed, run by Kathleen Ireland. It's cosy, self-catering, chock-a-block with amenities, and shows what a brilliant architect can do with a modest amount of space. (kathleenireland@btinternet.com) As for the extraordinary, 3-day conference on Rae, it ended last night with a banquet at the Stromness Hotel. The climactic event of the evening was a performance by renowned musician Jennifer Wrigley, who played what was once John Rae's fiddle. That moment I would characterize with a single word: magic.