Right Church, Wrong Pew

Chris Redmond is Director of Internal Communications at the University
of Waterloo.

Stewart is well known as a good writer, so it is not surprising that his
first detective novel (in fact his first venture into fiction) should be
articulate—even eloquent, in a racy Kawartha-colloquial sort of
way—and amusing. About the plot, one can at least say that it’s no
worse than those of its contemporaries, and contains no international
terrorism, psychosexual sadism, or gross lapses in logic. The title,
which refers inaccurately to a minor clue, isn’t the book’s biggest
asset.

Scene: a little town near Peterborough, Ontario. Victim: local hardware
merchant. Narrator and suspect: reporter for local newspaper (a worse
rag, surely, than exists even in the Thomson chain). Obligatory love
interest: big-city photographer, newly arrived in town. Detective:
retired Toronto police inspector, improbably kind and wise. Clue:
newspaper clipping about long-ago drunk-driving incident. Events unfold
exactly as a reader thinks they should, with puzzlement and laughs but
nothing too scary. The village streets seem cheerful, safe, and homelike
as a background for death. Carlton Withers, the narrator, is funny,
which is to say that Stewart is a funny writer—a master of fresh
similes, smart remarks, and ironic twists. This book entirely lacks the
seedy darkness that pervades the Benny Cooperman saga; instead it has
bright word play and lovable people. Hope for a sequel.