Book Info
Shadows on Spatsizi
Six Vancouver Island loggers invite a World War 11 veteran to join them on their annual hunt for Stone’s Mountain Sheep in the Cassiars. The trip is expected to be therapeutical for the veteran who is showing early signs of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.
Each evening, by the campfire, within the shadowy embrace of Spatsizi Plateau, stories are exchanged, and as the veteran unravels his experiences as a scout/sniper in the Pacific theatre the issues of repatriation and rehabilitation invite serious diversion from the winsome norm.
Exerpt from the Novel.
That evening I told my son, “I’m going away for a few weeks.”
“Where to?” His response was too eager for my liking.
“Somewhere near the Yukon border. Know where that is?”
“Up north somewhere?”
“Right. So you did learn something in school.”
“Come on, Dad, French was the problem.”
“Forget it. Can you take care of the house?”
“Yes.”
“And the dog.” It wasn’t a question.
“Of course.”
“I don’t want any wild parties going on here while I’m gone.”
“There won’t be.”
“Well, you say that but there’s the little matter of the odd beer bottle starting to show up in the bushes as though someone’s tossing them there thinking they’ll never be found.”
“That’s probably Chris.”
“Then tell him it’s not appropriate. While I’m gone the house needs to be kept clean.”
“Right.”
“I’m talking about wiping the kitchen table, not sweeping a few Rice Crispies onto the floor for the dog.”
“I know, I won’t.”
“That job you’ve got…stacking shelves for the supermarket…”
“Yes…?”
“I still want you to have it when I get back!”
“Fine, Dad, don’t worry about it. I’ll be alright.”
“I’ll make sure there’s a good stock of syringes and needles. The extra insulin cartridges are in the fridge if you need them.”
“I know.”
“Don’t cheat with the glucose readings…you seem to be doing a better job of looking after yourself lately.”
“I am.”
I cuffed him on the back of the head – another Australian custom for demonstrating affection.
“And about that little blonde I’ve seen you with.” I knew her name, I knew what was going on in the house when I was out, I knew more than he thought I knew. I watched him shift uncomfortably, then remembering I’d been young once myself had a change of heart. “Oh, never mind", I said, pinching his unshaven cheek and cuffing him again.
Reviews
“Love the war stories. I feel like I’m sitting around the fire listening as well. Your sense of humour is bar none. When you decide to get funny it’s absolutely gut splitting for me. It’s a roller coaster ride with high peaks of laughter and adventure and low peaks of darkness and personal tragedies.”
Kelly (2008)