Ignorant Armies

R.G. Moyles is a professor of English at the University of Alberta,
co-author of Imperial Dreams and Colonial Realities: British Views of
Canada, 1880-1914, and co-editor of The Collected Works of E.J. Pratt.

There is magic in this book: you hardly know what is going on, you do
not understand the sleight of hand, but you are irresistibly drawn to
the show, and “presto,” you are amazed by the flashes of genius and
wit, and by the stylistic bravado. Take this passage, for example:
“Beside him the cultural correspondent from the Nostrum Daily Digger
is already making notes with a hectic virginal earnestness, as if the
meanest ceremonies of town life were the stuff of Literature. She has a
child’s copybook propped on the lap of her flowered print dress; her
knees, drawn up almost as far as her thin, slightly whiskery chin,
support a Happy Fried Chicken container on which the scribbler perches
like an albino pigeon.” Apart from admiring its satiric brilliance,
one wants to linger over the piece, relishing its structure and
pointedness.

Much of the novel is like that. And for those who admire the writing of
the late D.M. Fraser or who simply read for esthetic pleasure, this will
be a rewarding book. Unfortunately, those not so inclined will find it
very elusive: the point of it all is difficult to grasp. It is about Gus
Asher meeting the world, and about writers and writing. But it lacks
thematic unity and any sort of linear progression: plot-lovers will find
it very disappointing. Perhaps the fault lies in the fact that the novel
has been restored from Fraser’s unpublished and unfinished
manuscripts. Or perhaps its elusiveness represents the elusiveness of
life itself. No matter now, except that most readers expect more of a
novel than just a series of brilliant insights and esthetic delights, as
delightful as they may be to some.