Raised by the River

M. Morgan Holmes teaches English at McGill University.

Novels about the anxious psychology of thirty-something urbanites can
offer intriguing glimpses into what makes contemporary Western society
tick and, more important, malfunction. Authors like Bret Easton Ellis
and Tama Janowitz in the United States have written razor-edged
narratives about the pitfalls of modern consumerist culture. Jake
MacDonald has given a Canadian voice to the genre by fusing the urban
element with a contemplation of rural life and the potential it offers
to salvage something of human dignity.

This novel describes the inner turmoil of Mike Saunders, a white
heterosexual Torontonian who must decide whether to salvage his
family’s decrepit lodge in Northern Ontario or sell the white elephant
for some quick cash. Rather conventionally, Saunders is forced to
confront his childhood memories and to weigh the past against present
pleasures. MacDonald adds an important layer of interest to his story,
however, by weaving a realistic portrait of the often rough-edged life
found in economically depressed northern towns. Important questions that
the novel asks are whether rural Canada has anything to offer a
spiritually hardened urban class and whether city dwellers owe their
fellow citizens any economic compassion.

The strongest element in Raised by the River is its description of the
lakes and forests of the Minaki region. Where it most seriously stumbles
is in its rather stilted dialogue and narratorial intrusions into
characters’ psyches. MacDonald is at his weakest when he tries to
probe the emotional lives of his characters: “I like this floating
house, Saunders thought. I like Maggie. She’s a rebel. I could use a
little of this action in my life.” Much of the prose in the novel is
similarly plodding.

In addition to Saunders, MacDonald has peopled his novel with a cast of
zanies, including Saunders’s sleazy pal Skip, the Native financier
Chief Leo, and the Mafia boss Vince DeFranco. Although oddballs are
often a pleasant diversion in a story, here they become tiresome and
repetitive, detracting from the main plot. MacDonald’s practice in
this regard is generally representative of the way his story operates
throughout—leading the reader away from the more interesting emotional
and social concerns embedded within the excess.