Roger "Mad Dog" Caron (April 12, 1938 – April 11, 2012) was a Canadian robber and the author of the influential prison memoir Go-Boy! Memories of a Life Behind Bars (1978). At the time of publishing, Caron was 39 years old and had spent 23 years in prison.
Bibliography: 1978 Go-Boy! Memories of a Life Behind Bars, Hushion House, 292 pages, ISBN 0-9682522-3-0 1985 Bingo! The Horrifying Eyewitness Account of a Prison Riot, Methuen, 216 pages, ISBN 0-458-99700-5 1988 Jojo, Stoddart Publishing, 180 pages, ISBN 0-7737-2208-4 1992 Dreamcaper, Stoddart Publishing, 215 pages, ISBN 0-7737-5486-5
Talk about a realistic look at prison life without actually having to go behind bars myself to get it. I’m kind of surprised by just how much I enjoyed this book.
I think one of the main reasons is that Roger Caron hails from the same small little Eastern Ontario city that I’ve spent my last 51 years growing up in. I can recall as a teenager listening to my Mom talk about Roger and the books that he had written while imprisoned. I even went on to marry someone who’s own mother personally knew Caron back in the day.(50’s-60’s)
The other main reason for the positive review would be attributed to the fact that I know most, if not all, of the places that Roger talked about throughout the book. I have even taken a tour with my husband through the decommissioned Kingston Penitentiary a few years back. It is now deemed a National Historic Site of Canada since its shutdown in 2013. It was quite the place I tell you!
Back in ‘78, Caron earned the Governor-General’s Award for Go-Boy. I can understand why after finishing it up today. This man spent MOST OF his life behind ACTUAL bars trying to figure out how to get out, only to eventually be diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease and dementia and thus becoming trapped in a different type of prison for the remainder of his life on the outside of the ACTUAL bars. He was only 73 when he passed back in 2011.
Growing up there was always this depiction of what a “bad person” was, and to me, I always thought that they got sent to prison so that they would get what they deserved from the “good guys”. I might have even thought that going to prison might “cure” them of their bad ways before they were allowed back into “normal” society again. It was sort of a strange notion that I had I suppose that here’s the problem, and prison’s the “fix”. It was black and white and it was all good. As I have gotten older and wiser, I have a better understanding that life is FULL of grays. Life in prison as depicted by Caron is WAY SCARIER than one could imagine. This book brought to life that it is about time we start asking how we can punish those who do terrible crimes but also have them become rehabilitated in the process, not fear further for their life and see no way out but to continue to do more crimes in order to succeed.
Roger Caron lead a rough life, but perhaps his writing transformed his own life as well as all the people who have read this book and his other ones.
I haven't always been a saint, when I turned 14 my first sentence was 3 months for stealing a carton of smokes, I guess that wasn't long enough , I managed to turn 3 months into 4 years and 4 months. So that was my teenage years , fighting , escaping , fighting off creepy staff , police and townspeople shooting at us . Guns ,dope , that started in 86 it still plays in my head , it's 2024 hate to say it my life hasn't changed to much , still doin dope , everyday is a hustle , only diff is my habit got bigger , sentences getting longer, I met Roger caron in Ottawa detention centre , he was up on 16 bank robberies then , poor guy had Parkinson's then , I was back in on a parole violation
In jail, out of jail, in jail, out of jail, in jail, out of jail, in jail, out of jail, than become a drug addict, The End. And that's the book. I read half of this garbage than stopped reading. I got so frustrated with this knucklehead never learning from his mistakes that I took the book and through it across my living room, than I started reading something else.
One hour later we arrived in Massena, N.Y. where we wanted to get rid of the hot car. We zipped into a parking space behind a large downtown building which unknown to us was the local police station. We learned later that the car sat there for thrirty-one days undiscovered.