Many thanks to NetGalley and Random House Canada for an ARC of this novel.
Lots of people, mostly Canadian, think Canadian history is boring. Historians can’t persuade them otherwise, but maybe novelists can. Certainly no one who reads this novel will use the B word to describe it.
On the opening page, the main character, Mariah Lindsay, declares that ´Menace lurks high and low in the snake pit known as Bytown, ‘ where the story unfolds in the mid 1830s. A rough resource town of about 1,000 people, Bytown (later Ottawa) was populated by an exploited underclass of famine Irish who did the gruelling, badly paid, often dangerous labour of canal and railway building and lumbering in the ambitious colony of Upper Canada. As they were overseas, the Irish, especially Catholics, were held to be ignorant, dirty, disease-spreading drunkards who needed to ´know their place’ at the bottom, and stay there. French Canadians were treated little better. The Algonkian peoples whose land the settlers appropriated were so utterly marginalized that they didn’t even rank in the social order. Those of British heritage and their circle held tight to wealth and power, administering justice as suited their interests.
The « unrest » of the title permeates the story. It starts even before Mariah, her older sister Biddy, and Biddy’s new husband Seamus O’ Daugherty, leave an oppressed and starving Ireland for the unwelcoming British North American colonies. On both sides of the Atlantic, violence, hatred, and vengeance are a way of life. Mariah’s ravaged face and psyche, explained in the opening pages, symbolizes the world of these people and their outlook. Unrest seethes through their lives, from the poorest in the Corktown shanties, to the corrupt businessmen-politicians of Uppertown who use imported sectarian hatreds to control and rule. There are rumours of unrest in Lower Canada (Quebec), in York (Toronto), in the western townships (London). The Irish manifest their historic discontent in marauding gangs of Shiners, performing ruthless acts of violence, even against their own. They are led by a newly wealthy Irish timber man Peter Aylen, and his henchmen Andrew Leany, Hairy Barney, and John Gleeson, all real historical figures. These men and their followers fuel unrest with rhetoric, booze, prostitutes and many false promises. Irish men, young and old, are swept away in the lawless politics of despair. The unrest destabilizes their families, rich and poor, because women and children, dependent on their men, are most vulnerable to their alcohol-fuelled deprecations.
The author brings this unrest to life on all these levels, a real strength in a novel that in no way sanitizes or romanticizes the past. The grit, gore, savagery and suffering are all here. But this strength also becomes a problem at times. The unrest in their lives and their souls is so unremitting that the main characters, especially Mariah, become hapless victims of seemingly unending random, misfortune, often of the ugliest kind. Of course none of them can avoid being affected by circumstances, but every step Mariah takes on her own behalf tosses her several steps backward, renewing her original physical and emotional trauma. The few gentle moments, when people get to be kind and Mariah gets to be hopeful, get buried under the barrage of ongoing Terrible Things. Her ability to gather herself up and go on to the next battle is admirable, but the battles are frequently unbelievable, which results more in eye-rolling than sympathy. Her one great hope of deliverance slides in and out of her hands, literally, and she fights terrible odds (I’d say ridiculous odds) to hold on to it/retrieve it.
The high drama surrounding each character tends to make them one-dimensional, often stereotypical. Older sister Biddy and her hapless husband Seamus, who accompanied the unwed pregnant Mariah from Ireland to hide her shame, are superficially drawn from the start. Biddy predictably grows more narcissistic and vengeful, Seamus more cowardly and duplicitous. Mariah’s son Thomas, who knows (and disdains) her only as his maternal aunt, ruins every chance he gets, honest or otherwise, to improve his lot. He can’t decide between, and therefore manipulates, two women who are always ready to save him from his own stupid misdeeds as he tries to curry favour with the Shiners. It’s hard to care about his fate, though that fate is central to the story.
The Shiners’ actual demise, as well as the rebellions, are skipped. Presumably the unrest has ended for all concerned, as for Mariah, whom the epilogue shows to have prevailed. But, since Biddy and Seamus and their children were left in an extremely precarious state in the story’s final chapter, I wanted to know whether they did too.
There are a lot of ugly things in every nation’s history, and the history is very well done here. Thanks to the lucid writing, this is a very visual novel, even if the focus on the darker details mean that those images are seldom pretty.