Welcome to Eldorado, a small mountain town in the Kootenays, chock-a-block with aging hippies, eccentrics, loggers, and protestors. When Roy Breen moves to Eldorado after over a decade of working as a journalist in Vancouver, he is impressed by the soaring glacial vistas and the friendliness of the townsfolk, as well as the quality of the coffee they pour. Unfortunately the threat of cutbacks is looming over the local hospital and Roy must find a way to balance his journalistic integrity with the need to join his new neighbours in fighting to keep the hospital open.
In the vein of Stephen Leacock’s Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town, poet Sean Arthur Joyce’s debut novel Mountain Blues is a tale of warmth and joviality.
Praise for Mountain Blues
"Joyce cannot hide the love he has for his characters. He loves not just their strengths but their flaws, their best intentions, their sweet humanity." ~ Brian d'Eon, Lunatic Writer Blog
“Well, I’m a reporter just new in town. Looking for work.”
So begins Roy Breen’s introduction to life in a small village in the West Kootenays, to the love of his life, to witnessing inspired community resistance to centralized decision-making and, fortuitously for them all, his new employer. While covering stories of all descriptions for the Mountain Echo, Roy Breen recovers from a hectic fifteen years as a Vancouver reporter. He’d paid his journalistic dues there only to be shunted away from a City Hall beat promotion by a lesser-paid cub reporter, no thanks to a change in ownership in the leaner, meaner millennium. Fed-up with this corporate treatment, Breen quits and heads to the British Columbia Interior where he was born and raised. He and his cat spend some quality camping time roaming through four of B.C.’s six mountain chains before ending up in an old silver-mining village beside a glacier-fed lake, remarkably resembling New Denver merged with Silverton. The lyrical valley and village descriptions will make many readers want to quit their own stuffy, city-trapped jobs and move there themselves.
The Mountain Echo, moreover, still pays its writers and actually employs a proofreader and fact checker, which along with reference librarians, have been dismissed by metro dailies in Vancouver and elsewhere. But then the odds of running into the main antagonists at the previous evening’s meeting en route to the village Post Office is much higher in El Dorado as well and the new reporter in town has to tread carefully and tactfully.
The first major issue is the shocking announcement that the El Dorado Hospital will be shut down within weeks. Vans arrive, in a startling display of efficiency from the centralized health authority, to remove vital X-ray equipment. But the villagers are resourceful veterans of blockade lines and have organized a telephone tree which loops around the communities dependent on the emergency ward, the doctors, the extended care wing for bedridden elders and volunteers arrive by the dozens and stay there round the clock.
We are introduced to the many and varied forms of peaceful resistance from individual hunger strikes to protest “crawls”, yes, not walks but crawls which are more commonplace in religious approaches by supplicants near cathedrals in South America, on their knees as they cross stony plazas. We go behind the scenes to understand how difficult it is for a level-headed co-ordinator to deal with highly individualistic types who threaten violence and sabotage and would thereby threaten the credibility of the entire protest. We also understand more about the conflict and ethical considerations of our reporter-narrator who has always tilted to the side of the underdogs and been reprimanded for it in the big city daily. But here he puts a writerly foot wrong once and is hollered at most profanely by the normally level-headed organizer herself, a statuesque beauty who is a natural leader in the community. We also get to meet the public relations bureaucrat from the regional health authority who must deliver the bad news about the hospital closure and he, as you might suspect, gets his comeuppance soon enough.
Throughout it all, Sean Arthur Joyce uses a light, deft touch for topics that could be heavily righteous slogging. His characters are completely 3-D and his dialogue is a delight to ‘hear’ as it is so realistic in its rhythms, which sets each distinct character apart from the next, no easy feat. The humour is gentle and tolerant and reminds us that when we live in a small community, the most sound advice would be: Let your words be gentle in case they come back to bite you. For a journalist, this means striving for fairness, depth and objectivity and not ‘piling on’ the blame in this era of rushing to often-violent judgement, propelled by self-serving, vindictive and ultimately irresponsible tweets.
The love story which unfolds is also a delight and we readers cheer on the middle-aged lonely hearts who are instantly attracted and find each other to be excellent company in the midst of the strife afflicting the villagers. The cafes in El Dorado serve great coffee, even if the wait-staff tend to editorialize the hapless new reporter’s latest efforts, and the mountain water is sublimely pure, the basis for all great coffee, lest we forget. Pack your bags and head for the West Kootenay mountains, especially the Valhalla Range, a copy of the big-hearted Mountain Blues nearby, best read aloud by kindred spirits en route, especially those in need of that special blend of glorious wilderness and resolutely alive, no-nonsense, ‘stand up to protect it or lose it forever’, community that beckons within its pages.
In Mountain Blues, author Sean Arthur Joyce, takes the reader on an intimate journey through the fictional Glacier Valley, and the tiny mountain towns which hug the shores of Sapphire and Sturgeon Lake. While the Kootenay scenery is remarkable and lovingly depicted, what makes Mountain Blues so memorable are the many colourful characters which inhabit the book. There are the loggers, the new-agers, the aging hippies, and Roy Breen himself (the novel’s narrator, an escapee journalist from Vancouver). The interpersonal relationships between these groups is highly dynamic, and emotions frequently run high when characters meet face-to-face. Prominent among the cast of eccentrics is Moss, the rastafarian Jamaican expat, Moonglow, the flower child, Marie-Louise, the heavy-smoking Metis and Bill Radford, the “local contrarian”. Those who are not obviously eccentric tend to be highly political and often the border between these two states is blurred. Most of the action in the novel takes place in and around the tiny town of El Dorado (population 796). But, as Roy Breen says, this is no “proto-Appalachian village.” Its citizens are well-versed in the tactics of protest and peaceful disobedience. When their hospital is threatened with reduced hours, they mobilize quickly and creatively and become a major headache for the bureaucrats back in Victoria. Joyce is not afraid to tackle serious issues such as truth and fiction in the media, the perils of materialism, the efficacy of political protest, and the mistreatment of First Nations. Yet, even while dealing with these serious topics, Joyce cannot hide the love he has for his characters. He loves not just their strengths but their flaws, their best intentions, their sweet humanity. Almost as much, he loves the place where they live, and truly it is a special place. El Dorado lives up to its name if one thinks of gold in a metaphorical sense. The lifestyle of the valley is golden. It is a hidden Shangri-la among the mountains. It echoes strongly of the town of Cicely from the television series Northern Exposure whose eloquent and earthy characters inhabited a special place in the imaginations of many throughout the Nineties. But here’s the kicker: El Dorado has one great advantage over Cicely; it’s a real place. Read Joyce’s book first, then go find it. 377
Mountain Blues is entertaining, insightful and reads like a movie. Joyce's keen attention to detail invites you to walk around town like a local. The unpredictable resourcefulness and unique brand of humour of Eldorado's citizens puts a clever twist on "David and Goliath", as this small community stands up to big government bureaucracy and shines a bright light on the impact that arbitrary, urban thinking can have on the heart of a rural community. And, it's this strong rural pulse that makes Mountain Blues such a page-turner.
Arthur Joyce's book MOUNTAIN BLUES is about the revolt of a small mountain village in the Kootenay region of central British Columbia when the provincial government prepares to reduce important services at their hospital. Woven into this tense situation are a number of themes.
The main character and narrator of the story is Roy Breen, a newly hired journalist for the area newspaper, "The Mountain Echo", published in the village of Eldorado. He once worked for the Vancouver Daily newspaper but is now gladdened to be working for the mountain region village publication. Throughout the novel he demeans city life holding it up against the beauties and sanity of rural existence, as he sees it.
Forced to remain objective as a journalist, he is nevertheless so taken with the nurturing lifestyle, he slowly insinuates himself in battling those reduction of services. He like others view it as a threat to their ability to remain living in Eldorado, and to their quality of life. These are a people who vote with their feet ; who do non-violent street protest, long ago coming to an understanding of the local politician who never even bothered to reply to his/her letters of concern. "You keep raising rates while lowering benefits" shouts an angry participant at a town hall meeting with government officials. A placard reads, "Save money or Save lives".
Joyce, often sharing regional history with the reader, reminds that 19th century mining companies in the Kootenays had a policy of "take the money and run" , abandoning communities which had helped to enrich them after the ore was taken out. Roy Breen learns "This Valley is Protest Central. We've had to blockade logging roads to keep our watersheds from being clear cut for years now". Breen comes to understand the priorities of respect and attachment to non pollution; caring for eco-systems, forest and water and that these people are married to a powerful nature sitting at their doorsteps, enjoying its grandeur but always vulnerable to hardships. Unlike the city dweller nature is central to the lives. Journalist Breen gradually develops a portrait of the world that surrounds him, imparting it to the reader as he himself discovers it.
He latches on to the diversity of people living in El Dorado and its environs. Aside from the run of the mill are the "New Age Mystics" and "Aging Hippies"; French Canadians; a First Nations person (who follows her traditions) and a single Rastafarian named , Moss, originally from Jamaica who speaks English mixed in with Caribbean patois. He comes to realize the hippies and the rednecks and yahoos distrust each other . Joyce avoids idealization either of villagers or of village life. They have their weaknesses , their neuroses and attitudes like “Zelda, the sarcastic server”. The odd time Joyce does stereotyping it’s done from a good place.
You watch Breen love village people including the “characters”; the village itself; his girlfriend Jane; his cat; the natural beauty all around. You sense his need to join the people who face off with the powers that be (admiring their courage). He prizes the almost family-like loyalty and solidarity that binds people . Instead of looking down on the eccentrics he describes, Joyce holds them up for respect as people who too are a value to society. On the other hand, the narcissism that is eating away at our Western societies, has no place in Joyce’s world. Those who sacrifice and join in solidarity are applauded.
Roseanne, the indefatigable caring Mother leader figure, who manages the opposition to the government’s project is a prime example of the latter. Joyce’s depiction of her courage, her sacrifices, her struggles and basic human caring in the face of considerable stress is compelling. One senses the author makes real efforts not to portray the enemy as cartoons. They are people doing what they do to hang on to their jobs in a part of Canada where good jobs are scarce.
There’s a prevailing sweetness to be found in this novel, in part owing to the ubiquitous enchanting charm found in the village, in part owing to the positive message, and in part to some out of the ordinary situations. It makes you forget the ugliness of the other books lying about. Because you get attached to that sweetness you allow yourself to excuse the occasional saccharine passage.
Still there's an underlying despair and heartbreak in this story, with regard to techno bureaucrats put in charge of a world of beauty they have lost touch with, and the knowledge that needed resources and support are too often diverted to the ugly and the destructive, forcing villagers into a David and Goliath confrontation.
I reserve the last comment for the breathtaking beauty of the Kootenay mountains as described by the author. Joyce, an established and recognized poet - articulate throughout - who does an arresting, inspiring job in his painting of it. " There was something different about this water. It was so pure , so clean it was somehow alive. A rejuvenating thrill went through my body as I drank a gentle shock of energy. …Late afternoon sunlight strobed between the trees…the mountain spoke in the scree of a bald eagle, the whoosh of a gale trapped between ridges, the subliminal thrum of granite in the moonlight".
Mountain Blues opens with a Vancouver reporter, named Roy Breen, moving out to the town of Eldorado in the mountains of British Columbia. Roy soon finds himself helping his new neighbours protest plans to cut the town's emergency room down to nine to five bankers' hours.
Oh, and public health also wants to confiscate their only X-ray machine — which was paid for with donations raised by the community.
Here's just a flavour of how the first-person narrative kept me eagerly reading:
"I knew a lot of former reporters at the West Coast who'd left their jobs to take up public relations jobs in the government or corporate sector. In a way, I could understand it. The pay was better, and you at least got benefits. You weren't subjected to the daily barrage of bad news and then expected to stick your nose in it, drill down, and come up with a story that didn't stink of despair. All you had to do was check your integrity at the door and strap on the mouthpiece. Which, unfortunately for my retirement prospects, was never something I could bring myself to do. My old man during my rebellious teen years used to say I had an 'addiction to telling the truth, usually at the worst possible time.' For a long time this really stung. Then when I got to college and studied journalism, I realized: Without our truthtellers, without a strong independent media, democracy becomes a pathetic shadow of itself. Sometimes the worst possible time to say something needs to be said IS the best possible time."
Mountain Blues offers unique characters (including Moss the Crawler, a Jamaican immigrant who protests the hospital closure by leading a one-man, multi-day march on his knees), soaring glacial vistas and an engrossing plot that serves a delightful blend of conflict and joviality.
What you'd expect from a book written by a reporter. A report, not a story. Big city=bad, quaint rustic village=good! Went through this one quickly! No TV and it was raining!