The 7 Day Book Challenge: Day 2

Half Blood Blues

Day 2 of the 7 Day Book Challenge, wherein I post, without comment or description, 7 books in 7 days.

Every film, series and Netflix Original springs from the fevered mind of a creative soul. Do your bit during the lock-down by staying in and reading.

The Day 2 book is Half Blood Blues by Esi Edugyan.

The 7 Day Book Challenge: Day 1


I was recently tagged by a friend on Facebook to participate in the 7 Day Book Challenge. The Challenge involves:

1) posting, without comment, 7 books in 7 days; and
2) nominating one more person each day to do the same.

In these viral times, I’m not doing the viral nomination component. I invite everyone who wants to participate to do so. After all, the world is on lock-down. Where isolating physically. So we’ve all got the time, and it’s not like we have to be anywhere.

Also – hug a writer (metaphorically and safely, of course, from a distance):  read a book, and let the world know!

This is my Day 1. Book 1 is Little Big Man, by Thomas Berger.

Finding the Voice and Finding the Time

RGT + James Cook I’ve felt this man’s eyes on me for years. His and George Vancouver’s.

On a recent trip to the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich I discovered the famous 1775 portrait of the great mariner James Cook by Nathaniel Dance-Holland. I’ve done a lot of research on Cook and his era, and I’d seen this picture many times before, so it was a delight to discover the original there on the wall. So: selfie time. The resulting photo surprised me. I wonder if George Vancouver also felt Cook looking over his shoulder.

Vancouver was a midshipman on Cook’s last two voyages. With Cook, he twice circumnavigated the globe, spending more than eight years at sea. Thirteen years after Cook’s death, still only thirty-four, Vancouver was assigned to lead his own ambitious voyage of exploration. He was to complete the mapping of the northwest coast of North America, in the course of which he was to find or refute the existence of a navigable North West Passage.

My work-in-progress is set in Nootka Sound in 1792, during that epic voyage. I’ve long faced the challenge of how to tell an historical story with authenticity, how to be true to the characters and the age without losing contemporary readers. My initial effort produced a manuscript that veritably creaked with authenticity. Authenticity, good. Creaky, bad. I rethought it and eventually found a narrative voice that could accomplish what I wanted to do. It is omniscient, perhaps unreliable, egotistical, and it’s got attitude, which makes it fun, in a dangerous (though not Travis Bickle-dangerous) way. By dangerous, I mean unconventional.

My path to this approach was long and winding. Years ago, my daughter Kaitlin introduced me to a book she was reading at school: Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief, in which the narrator is Death. I loved that book and drew inspiration from it in solving my narration conundrum, though I haven’t gone as far as Zusak in using Death’s voice. Not quite, though my narrator has a unique perspective and plenty of character. I’ve also been inspired by the German writer W.G. Sebald, whose novel The Rings of Saturn is unlike any I’ve ever encountered. In the course of his story Sebald’s solitary, nameless narrator digresses into history, biography, literature and architecture. His narrative arc winds, not aimlessly, but delightfully. A friend gave me the book and said I’d like it, and I did, though perhaps not for the reasons he anticipated.

I’m pleased to say the narrative voice in my novel-in-progress (working title: The Wind From All Directions, “TWFAD”) works. I’m making good progress on the manuscript and am happy with it. I’m taking risks with voice, perspective, and story-telling in general. I’m painting outside the lines and don’t give a damn about breaking literary convention. The way I see it, if you’re painting within the lines—if you can see lines—well, you’re working on someone else’s painting. What about your own? This is my last novel. I see no need to hold back now. What do I have to lose?

Now back to Greenwich. It was a pleasurable working visit, the best kind. I did some research there for TWFAD that I could do nowhere else. I was there to investigate time and ogle the chronometers housed at the Maritime Museum and up the hill at the Royal Observatory.

John Harrison’s famous “sea watch,” known as H4, and its predecessors H1, H2 and H3 (all of which are still in working order), are on exhibit at the Observatory, where there is a very thorough, very accessible audible tour. If you’ve read Dava Sobel’s Longitude (nerd alert: Yes, of course I have.) you’ll know the significance of these chronometers. H4 was the timepiece that solved the great conundrum of marine navigators, the problem of determining longitude at sea, a problem that had preoccupied astronomers, mathematicians, horologists and instrument-makers for decades.

H4 was a masterpiece, a work of genius, a breakthrough for science and instrumentation, but a one-off. It was so expensive that it was impractical as a day-to-day solution for ships at sea. The navy could not afford to equip all its vessels with such a piece, and it was completely out of reach for the owners of merchant vessels.

The effort began to simplify the clock’s movement and cut costs. Britain’s Board of Longitude commissioned watchmaker Larcum Kendall to copy H4 with those objectives in mind. In 1770 he produced a timepiece called K1, which James Cook tested on his second voyage—George Vancouver’s first. K1 worked superbly—Cook referred to it as “our trusty friend the Watch.” It proved that H4’s success was no fluke. Kendall went on to produce K2 in 1772, and K3 in 1774, both cheaper, though inferior to K1. Cook took both K1 and K3 on his third and final voyage. K3 remained in service for many years. It was assigned to George Vancouver for his great expedition in 1791. It proved erratic in its running rate, although it was superior to other chronometers he was provided with. K2, by the way, was assigned to William Bligh (who was on Cook’s fateful third voyage with Vancouver) in 1787 for his voyage to Tahiti on HMS Bounty. It remained on the ship when Bligh was set adrift in the Pacific by Fletcher Christian. Christian took it to Pitcairn Island where he scuttled Bounty. Years later the last surviving mutineer on Pitcairn gave K2 to the captain of a visiting ship. It was eventually returned to Britain. It is exhibited in the Maritime Museum alongside K1 and K3.

These historic timepieces are awe-inspiring for anyone (such as yours truly) who finds inspiration in the long and ultimately successful quest for a solution to the vexing problem of longitude.

Here are some pictures of these historic timepieces and other eighteenth century navigational equipment housed at the National Maritime Museum or the Royal Observatory in Greenwich.

Progress on “The Wind From All Directions”

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I hope your summer was wonderful. Mine was.  It’s almost a year since Poplar Lake was released, and I haven’t posted here for months, at least on the subject of writing. I’m no longer New Release but Back List, and I’m writing again. The project I’m working on is one I’ve been working on, on and off, for fifteen years. It’s an historical novel set in the Pacific Northwest in 1792. That year, British mariner George Vancouver, on a voyage to chart the last unknown stretches of the North American coast, met Spanish commodore Juan Francisco Bodega y Quadra in Yuquot (Friendly Cove), in remote Nootka Sound. For a month that autumn, they wined and dined and played gunboat diplomacy while trying to convince the other to withdraw and cede his country’s territorial claims within the region. Neither asked the local Indigenous people what they thought. “Yuquot,” by the way, in the language of the Mowachaht/Muchalaht who lived there (and still do) means “the winds blow from many directions.” During those weeks of genteel pageantry and tense negotiations, the name of the places was particularly apt. And as the discussions became deadlocked, there was a murder, a murder that was never solved.

True story, so far. When I came across that nugget, buried in footnotes to primary sources, I knew there was a great story there and that I had to tell it. I went to work, researching and imagining the place, the time, life aboard a ship, life on the coast, the characters, the fraternization, the conflicts. I wrote a novel, which I called The Wind From All Directions. The first version didn’t work; it was historically authentic but it wasn’t alive. It didn’t breathe as it had to do. So I wrote it again.  TWFAD v2 worked well enough to convince an agent to take it (and me) on. While he circulated the manuscript to publishers in Canada, the US, and the UK, I worked on other projects, projects which crystallized into A Person of Letters (published in 2015) and Poplar Lake (2018).

The Wind From All Directions never found a home with a publisher, and I didn’t look at it again until 2017, after I’d signed a publishing contract for Poplar Lake and was wondering what I’d work on next. I blew the dust off my now-ancient manuscript and read it cover to cover. I saw immediately that it needed work, that my initial reach had exceeded my grasp. Readers want a good story, well told. In TWFAD, I had the former, not the latter.  This was a humbling realization.

I decided to rewrite Wind. I started from scratch, re-imagining the story, re-inventing its characters. I spent a lot of time puzzling over what I see as the central challenge, which I failed to solve in TWFAD v2: that is, of how to relate a story about a time so far removed from the modern, one that has British, Spanish, and Indigenous characters, and that captures their drivers, their motivations, their truths, while connecting with modern readers who know nothing about the period. The key, I realized, lay in the narrative voice, and I came up with a novel (so to speak) solution for that; and I’ve finally worked my way  through the story from start to finish and produced a first draft. Call it TWFAD v3 d1. Now I begin the process of kicking the crap out of d1 to produce d2. That’s what the writing process entails—at least my writing process. I’ll say more about the narrative challenges and the voice I’ve chosen and the project in general in future posts. Meanwhile, it’s back to the drawing board.

Yuquot remains a beautiful and unspoiled place, not much changed from the place where high drama and diplomacy played out in 1792. I’ve included photos of it as it was and as it is as a teaser for those interested.

Image result for friendly cove nootka sound henry humphreys
Yuquot, or Friendly Cove, in Nootka Sound, as it appeared in 1792. The buildings are part of the Spanish settlement.  Source: BC Archives at the Royal BC Museum, Item PDP02047

Mulberries, Gooseberries, Pluto and Jerry Cans: Some thoughts on D-Day

RCN - Beach Commando W, Juno Beach

Tomorrow is the 75th Anniversary of D-Day.  At midnight on June 5, 1944, there were no Allied soldiers in Normandy. Twenty-four hours later, 150,000 British, American and Canadian soldiers had been landed from the air and by sea. It was a monumental feat.

To deliver ground forces across the English Channel the Allies amassed a flotilla of 2,500 ships, 3,000 landing craft, and a fleet 500 naval vessels to protect them. Amid utmost secrecy, five separate assault forces, one for each of the designated landing beaches, assembled in twelve different ports along the English coast. The mind boggles with the details, the decisions that had to be made, the plans that had to intermesh, the sheer numbers that had to be juggled.

It wasn’t enough to deliver thousands of soldiers to the beaches. They had to be fed, resupplied and reinforced or they would be pushed back into the sea. Everything they needed for the fight had to be brought ashore across the beaches, behind the assault troops, who would still be contesting the ground. And as the fighting units pushed inland, ammunition, reinforcements and food had to be delivered to them to sustain the attack, along with fuel, plenty of it—for the Allied army was a modern mechanized force. Initially their plan was to land gas on the beach in drums, decant it there into five gallon jerry cans, and rush it up to the units at the front. American forces alone needed fifteen million jerry cans for this purpose.

Consider the humble jerry can (or, as it was known in army speak, CAN, GASOLINE, MILITARY; STEEL; 5-GALLON) as an item of inventory, what we call an SKU today. The supply system necessary to support the Allied invasion included 700,000 separate SKUs.  Imagine the management challenges this posed, in the days before computers, barcodes, and digital databases. And in June, 1944, every single item had to be hauled across the beaches in a warzone.

By the night of June 11 (D+5), it was clear to the Allies that their initial assault was a success. By then, they had landed more than 325,000 troops, 54,000 vehicles and 100,000 tons of supplies. But continued success was not guaranteed. The fighting, only a few miles inland, was intense, and the Allies were paying dearly for every yard they gained. They had incurred thousands of casualties. Most worrisome, back on the beaches, the initial arrangements were falling apart; chaos and congestion reigned. On Omaha and Utah, the two American beachheads, only a third of the planned tonnage of ammunition and supplies had been landed by D+5. Supply, not battlefield prowess, was shaping up to be the decisive factor in the Battle of Normandy.

None of the D-Day planners had underestimated the challenges of landing an entire army and its supplies across open beaches. That had always been an interim solution until a port could be secured. “All I can say” one British naval officer concluded during the planning phase, “is if we can’t capture a port we must take one with us.” And that’s exactly what they decided to do.

They made preparations to build two artificial harbours—one off Omaha Beach in the US sector, one at Arromanches near the British beachhead. The breakwater for each ‘Mulberry’, as they were code-named, would enclose an area of two square miles, within which transport and troop ships could manoeuvre, berth and offload their cargoes onto a network of sheltered wharves and jetties, all of which had to float, rising and falling with the twenty foot tides on the Normandy coast. Ten miles of connecting roadways—also floating—would link the wharves to shore.

So went the theory. It looked good on the drawing-board. The problem was it had never been tried, and it would require a tremendous engineering and manufacturing effort; each Mulberry would require more than 600,000 tons of concrete, formed into individual concrete caissons code-named ‘Phoenixes’. Each Phoenix was to be two hundred feet long, fifty wide and sixty high. Placed end to end, they would be more than two miles long. They would need to be manufactured in England and towed across the channel to Normandy after the invasion. They would need to be hidden from the Germans during production and during the crossing to France.

In the autumn of 1943, the plan was still in the design phase. Concrete and steel reinforcement needed to be procured, dry docks made available, and skilled workers found—welders, scaffolders, carpenters. In January 1944—just five months before the invasion—work had barely begun. Initially, twenty thousand workers were mobilized, but progress was too slow, and 45,000 were eventually dedicated to the task at more than 400 civilian contractors. That in itself is remarkable, for in the middle of a war, and with all the other preparations underway for the invasion, this was far from the only priority. And no one except the planners knew what all this effort was for. As the caissons were completed they were sunk in rivers and estuaries to hide them from German spies and aerial surveillance. When it came time to refloat them, on the eve of the invasion, many were mired in mud and difficult to salvage. Some were lost.

The first Mulberry components were towed across to Normandy on D+1. Assembly was swift—there was no time to be lost, with men dying a few miles inland, and the narrow bridgehead at risk of imminent German counterattack. By D+12, all the Phoenixes were in place and both harbours were in use, although the floating piers were not quite finished. Gaps in the breakwater were filled by ‘Gooseberries’, ship hulks scuttled for this purpose. A floating outer breakwater, comprised of fabricated steel structures called Bombardons, was anchored outside the inner breakwater. All five landing beaches were also protected by Gooseberry breakwaters as well, to facilitate continued direct beach landings. These efforts were paying off:  landings continued across the beaches, and on the Mulberries, as they ramped up capacity. Sheltered within a Mulberry, an LST (Landing Ship Tank in military parlance) could off-load its entire cargo of 60 armoured vehicles in under 30 minutes; tanks rolled ashore under their own power and rumbled directly for the front. By June 16 (D+10), the Allies had landed 557,000 men, 81,000 vehicles, and 183,000 tons of supplies. They had built up a seven day supply of rations and gasoline, but more was offshore, unable yet to land. On the two American beaches, Omaha and Utah, only two-thirds of the expected vehicles and supplies had been landed. With the aid of the Omaha Mulberry, they were only 25 per cent behind on D+12. But on June 19 (D+13), disaster struck. A three day storm, the worst in 40 years, destroyed the Omaha Mulberry, and damaged the one at Arromanches. Omaha’s was deemed irreparable, and from then until mid-August, when the Port of Cherbourg was opened, American forces had to be supplied over the beaches. But the availability of the surviving Mulberry at Arromanches was a great boon to the Allied cause. Over ten months, 2.5 million men, a half million vehicles, and four million tons of supplies were landed at Port Winston, as the Arromanches Mulberry was called.

This is just one example of the Allies’ ingenuity and initiative in the face of necessity. There are many more. Consider Operation PLUTO, as in ‘Pipe-Lines Under The Ocean’. To deliver fuel to its fighting forces, the Allies planned, developed the technology for, and laid a three inch pipeline from the Isle of Wight to Cherbourg. It was fed by a thousand mile network in England, built at night in utter secrecy, to transport gasoline from where it was landed and stored in the west of England to Southampton. The under-Channel pipeline itself was constructed of continuous thirty mile lengths of three-inch pipe, wound onto and laid from floating drums, each the weight of a destroyer. Such a project had never been attempted before. The technology did not exist when the project was dreamed up in 1942. The Cherbourg line had a capacity of 1 million gallons a day. As their armies fought up the French coast, the Allies laid a second line of similar capacity between Kent and the Pas de Calais. Then they extended both towards the front as it advanced towards Germany.

The German army was a superb military machine, every bit a match for the Allies on a unit-to-unit basis. The Allied soldiers fought bravely and tenaciously. The cost in human terms was great. The cost would have been much greater—indeed, the outcome uncertain—without the Allies’ clear superiority over the Germans in materiel and logistics. Once this advantage could be brought to bear, the outcome of the battle, and the war, was inevitable. Planning had to be meticulous, and execution was fraught with difficulty, but both proved successful. Combined with the grit of the fighting troops, the Allied logistical effort succeeded in liberating Normandy in just over two months. The war in Europe ended eleven months after the invasion began.

On the eve of D-Day General Dwight Eisenhower issued a statement to the troops. “Soldiers, Sailors, and Airmen of the Allied Expeditionary Force: You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade, toward which we have striven these many months. The eyes of the world are upon you. The hopes and prayers of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you…I have full confidence in your courage, devotion to duty, and skill in battle. We will accept nothing less than full victory.”

Those soldiers, sailors, and airmen delivered.  We must honour their achievement and remember what WE can achieve when we set our minds to a task and commit to achieving it.

A Good Time Was Had By All

Bright Lit May 9 2019 02

This month I participated in the “Bright Lit, Big City” reading series at Hirut on the Danforth. There was a full house present to hear a wonderful group of writers reading from their work and talking about writing. 

Pictured from left to right at the Q&A after the readings:

Writer/comedian and host, Carolyn Bennett, whose TV credits include This Hour Has 22 Minutes, CBC COMICS and Chilly Beach. Carolyn won the TIFF Studio Screenwriting Intensive Jury Prize in 2013 for her comedy The Mac and Watson Springtime Reeferendum Show. She wrote, produced and performed her solo show Double Down Helix at the 2018 Kingston Storefront Fringe Festival. She currently co-produces and performs at Hirut Hoot, a monthly stand-up showcase. Her debut novel Please Stand By is coming this fall. 

Mary Shaver, author of the bestseller The Naked Nun. Mary is a poet, artist, and former Roman Catholic nun. She is a member of the Art Tour Collective.

Michelle Winters is a writer, painter, and translator. Her work has been published in THIS Magazine, Taddle Creek, Dragnet, and Matrix. She was nominated for the Journey Prize in 2011, and her debut novel, I Am A Truck, was shortlisted for the 2017 Giller Prize.

That’s me in the middle (to quote author Donald Jack, creator of one of my favourite literary-comedic characters, Bartholomew Bandy). I read from my novel Poplar Lake.

Victoria Hetherington, author of Mooncalves. Victoria is a visual artist, poet and novelist. Her fiction has been reviewed and cited in the LA Review of Books, The Guardian, Publisher’s Weekly, and Ploughshares. Mooncalves is her debut novel.

Barry Kennedy, author of Through the Deadfall, The Hindmost, and Rock Varnish. Barry is a former fighter pilot turned actor and stand-up comedian. He’s appeared in more than 30 movies and TV productions and has headlined at clubs across Canada and the US. He is the host of Discovery Channel’s Out in the Cold.

The evening was great fun and the readings were fantastic. It was wonderful to meet each of these writers and compare experiences. I was delighted to discover that I’d shared an agent with one of them, a publisher with two, and literary bruises with every single one.

A Reviewer’s Take on Poplar Lake

Poplar Lake - NON 2018 edition

Poet and scholar Bill Robertson recently reviewed Poplar Lake for the Saskatoon Star-Phoenix, a PostMedia newspaper.

Robertson describes Poplar Lake (the novel) as ambitious in scope, and Poplar Lake (the town) as an archetype of prairie settlements. He places the book squarely in its contemporary context. “After years of living in the shadow of an edifice called Canadian Literature, in which its many settler novels featured no First Nations people, as if the land was simply empty and hard-working immigrants were given a stake in it by a beneficent government, writers such as Thompson have woken to a new day. In the light of the Truth and Reconciliation hearings, these writers want to include First Nations people in their narrative, and Thompson does.”

He goes on to say: “Thompson’s got everything here to make a great Canadian novel, and he goes a long way to writing just that.”

Robertson has criticisms of Poplar Lake, particularly on its narrative style (mea culpa – my call entirely, and I own it proudly), but said in summary of it: “I enjoyed reading the book, and it kept me with it.”

About Poplar Lake:

Poplar Lake’s publisher NON describes the book as “a darkly satiric novel about families and relationships and the day-to-day lies that sustain them, a tragicomedy rich with yearning, heartbreak, and love.”  Terry Fallis, two-time winner of Canada’s Stephen Leacock Medal for Humour, has said of it, “In Poplar Lake, Ron Thompson has written a captivating story, rich with humour and heart. I didn’t want it to end.”

Poplar Lake is available on-line and in select bookstores, Chapters-Indigo, and McNally Robinson locations. See Poplar Lake’s publisher page here. Bill Robertson’s full review in the Star-Phoenix can be found here.

New Year Update

pl - screenshot, skorean aladin website

This screenshot is from Aladin, an e-commerce retailer in South Korea. No, it is not announcing a Korean edition of Poplar Lake, just promoting the original North American one, which retails to residents of Seoul for just 27,050 won — but wait! (it says) Act now, and receive an 18% discount!…

Plus ça change, when it comes to marketing. In all seriousness, I was surprised to experience on a personal level the global reach of digital commerce. I know virtual distribution in the ROK won’t move many (if any) books. Publisher NON relies on more traditional distribution methods and markets and an actual physical presence in bookstores. Poplar Lake is in the Chapters/Indigo chain in Canada, for example, although not in every outlet. It’s difficult to get shelf space for the books of small presses and little-known authors. All you need, people tell me helpfully, is an endorsement from Oprah. Alas, that hasn’t yet happened, and until it does you’ll have to ask your bookseller to order Poplar Lake in if it’s not in stock. On the Not-Quite-Oprah front, we are anticipating a fresh newspaper review shortly — I will post a link to it when it emerges. Until then, every mention of Poplar Lake anywhere helps spread the word. You can help by rating, reviewing or commenting on the book on Amazon, Goodreads, other book-oriented sites, Facebook, Twitter, other social media, or your own blog. Most importantly, tell your friends, your relatives, your neighbours, your colleagues, your book-club pals, what you think of it.

I have not posted here for ages because I’m busy writing again. I’m in the throes of revising a story I wrote more than a decade ago. It’s an historical tale set in the Pacific northwest in the late eighteenth century, when European mariners first came into contact with the indigenous inhabitants of what is now British Columbia.  Until 2018 I had not looked at the manuscript for several years (my agent was circulating it, unsuccessfully, while I was working on what became A Person of Letters and Poplar Lake), and when I took it up again I decided to take a completely different approach. I’ve reframed the story, changed the perspective, chosen a different narrative voice, rethought the characters. It’s a complete rewrite. I’ll have more to say on the project in a future post.


About Poplar Lake:  Publisher NON calls the novel “a darkly satiric novel about families and relationships and the day-to-day lies that sustain them, a tragicomedy rich with yearning, heartbreak, and love.”  Terry Fallis, two-time winner of Canada’s Stephen Leacock Medal for Humour, has said of it, “In Poplar Lake, Ron Thompson has written a captivating story, rich with humour and heart. I didn’t want it to end.”  See Poplar Lake’s publisher page here.

The Roll-Out Country-Wide

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It’s been interesting for me to watch the roll-out of Poplar Lake across the country since its release. Take Indigo. In Week 1, copies were available in a few Indigo/Chapters outlets in Toronto and Ottawa. In Week 2 it reached Vancouver, Calgary, Winnipeg and Montreal. In Week 3, it’s also in Regina and Edmonton. Volumes are tight, and it’s always hard to get display space, but I’m pleased to see coast to coast distribution thanks to the efforts of the Literary Press Group and Canadian Manga, NON’s distributors.  Poplar Lake has already been added to library collections in several cities—spot it above at a branch in Toronto.

Last week the ebook version became available on Amazon, Indigo, and Barnes & Noble.

Publisher NON calls Poplar Lake “a darkly satiric novel about families and relationships and the day-to-day lies that sustain them, a tragicomedy rich with yearning, heartbreak, and love.”  Terry Fallis, two-time winner of Canada’s Stephen Leacock Medal for Humour, has said of it, “In Poplar Lake, Ron Thompson has written a captivating story, rich with humour and heart. I didn’t want it to end.”

See Poplar Lake’s publisher page here.

Photos from the Poplar Lake Launch Party

Here are some photos from the fantastic Poplar Lake launch party this past Wednesday at the Pilot in Toronto. Was very pleased to have a full house and bask in the energy of so many wonderful friends. Thanks again to everyone who came for your enthusiasm and support, and especially to John Macmillan, for masterly performing as host and MC, and to Jacquie Maund and Kaitlin Thompson, for superbly welcoming and hosting guests as they arrived and over the course of the evening.

Thanks also to Michelle and the fine team at the Stealth Lounge, and to the blues duo of Robert Davis and Fraser Melvin who played the crowd home. Thank you to everyone who sent me photos – what you see here is the product of many cameras. And thanks to Chris Needham and Now or Never (NON) Publishing, for their generous support for the launch and their continuing hard work.

Poplar Lake is available in book stores (ask for it if it’s not on-shelf) and online from Amazon and Indigo. See it’s publisher page here.  Terry Fallis, two-time winner of Canada’s Stephen Leacock Medal for Humour, has said of it, “In Poplar Lake, Ron Thompson has written a captivating story, rich with humour and heart. I didn’t want it to end.”

Now that Poplar Lake is out, it’s fingers crossed for reviews and reader reaction. I’ll post here and on my Facebook Author Page as I receive news and feedback. Do please review it yourself on Goodreads, Amazon, your own blog, or in graffiti on the subway.

Once again – thank you all for your support. I am humbled by it.