Interviews & Essays
Q: It has been seven years since Fall on Your Knees was published. Now that your newest novel, The Way the Crow Flies, is out in bookstores everywhere, will your writing continue to be a priority?A: It's not a question of "Would I be able to find time to write?" After I've finished every big project, the way I comfort and soothe myself is by telling myself I never have to write anything again. But this is very different. It's "Will I be able to convince myself to stop writing now?" Because you know what happens when you start: you have to finish. At least I do. And for me, it's like smoking. If you don't start, you won't have to finish. So don't start writing a book. Kids, don't start!
Q. What was the inspiration for The Way the Crow Flies?
A. I can't say that in one word or one line. I can say that in 720 pages . . . which I did! But I always begin with images, and in this case I really began with the image of that cornfield and the image of a kid on those PMQs [the housing quarters] on that air force station. It's like a Kodak photo. There was a terrible melancholy and tremendous promise about that picture and I needed to make up a story to explain it. And I was also very driven to make connections between the grown-up and patriarchal world of the early 1960s and the domestic world — of children especially. How those things are supposed to be kept separate and how the adult world supposedly functions for the sake of the children's. Anytime anyone ever says they're doing something for the sake of the children, I smell a rat. And I also don't believe in keeping our worlds apart. I believe our worlds are connected —even across seemingly unbridgeable gulfs. What do the Nazi slave labour camps in WWII have to do with an idyllic post-war neighbourhood? Well, possibly everything. Our everyday lives thread back into the past — they've been paid for somehow.
Q. International controversies like the Cuban Missile Crisis, the harbouring of war criminals and NASA's quest for the moon play an integral part in the story. Were you consciously giving Canada, a country that has a quiet international reputation, an active role in these world events?
A. I'm basically describing what did happen. Canada did have a role. And it was a pretty classic role — the role that we continue to play. That nexus of events that I describe in the novel is not dissimilar to what we've just gone through with Iraq. And it's not dissimilar to what we've just gone through with the Challenger exploding, killing the astronauts, and the in-fighting at NASA and the prioritization of a fantasy missile shield in the sky. The continuing militarization of space.
And where is Canada in all of this? Canada is always caught between Britain and the U.S. Most recently we've seen Britain and the U.S. holding hands again, and continuing to hold hands, and though Canada this time opted out of that triad in a way, it's a dynamic that has been going on ever since Canada became a nation. We're the youngest child but we're always caught in between. And that comes with a price — but it also comes with some privileges. We have a privileged perspective. Once I dug into Canada's experience, our political stance in the Cuban missile crisis, it became very interesting because that time in our history really does paint a very articulate picture of where Canada often finds itself: caught between the old Empire, i.e., Britain, and the new, i.e., the U.S. And Canada has this nice, innocent look but in fact our hands are not really clean. How can they be? You can never have completely pure hands. I don't believe in purity anyway, but let's at least be honest about what we've been into.
Q. There are some complex little girls in this novel. Why did you decide to write the story from Madeleine's perspective?
A. That evolved, like everything else does in a book. The points of view that are going to be primary rise up because they are the healthiest stalks in the garden. Certainly Madeleine and Jack are the pair in this story. That's the dual perspective and each of them represent the world I've just sketched: the domestic sphere that was held separate from the political sphere; the grown-up sphere versus the child's sphere; the very masculine sphere from the feminine sphere, and how we keep these worlds apart at our peril. They actually need to communicate and they need to mix it up. Jack and Madeleine just seemed like a really good duo.
There's of course a lot of archetypal power in the father-daughter story too. We tend never to tire of either writing it or reading it. And there's a price to pay for certain kinds of fathers and daughters. There's a great deal of love in the family in this story obviously, and Jack can be seen as a very progressive father, especially when he treats his daughter as though she were a son for example, not pigeon-holing her by making her be a traditional girl (and I'm talking again period-wise — the early 60s) — he's very concerned that his daughter have all the opportunities that his son will have. He's progressive, he's beloved, and in a couple of critical ways, he's terribly wrong.
Everyone grows up and then separates from their parents. In this case a prized daughter has to separate from a cherished father for dire reasons. It's not simple. It's very easy to reject the villains when they have come from the outside. It's a much more complex affair when there's love involved and genuine value.
I read a book about Albert Speer [Hitler's minister of armaments], called
Albert Speer: His Battle with Truth, and one of the most interesting aspects of that book was how his daughter struggled to continue to understand her love and respect for her father while also despising his crimes.
Q. What do you like most about touring?
A. Usually I get asked about what I like least about touring! What do I like most about touring? I like meeting my readers. I like reading to readers.
Q. Your books are published all over the world. Is there a distinctly Canadian response to your work?
A. I don't know. I'm very interested in the answer to that question. And I don't think I have enough anecdotal evidence. I think clearly Canadians have that extra edge of identification. They really get some things in my writing. I think there's also something about us as Canadian readers where we feel vindicated to see our point of view front and centre because it's so often marginalized, or it's on page 7 in the bottom left hand corner, if it's there at all.
I think people around the world can identify with our particular Canadian perspective because we live in the shadow of a superpower. On the one hand, the U.S. is our ally. But the whole Iraq thing has again led a lot of people to question their relationship with power, and we have to do that every day all the time — both because we get so much out of our relationship and we're such close friends and neighbours with the U.S. and because it can also be so chilling, depending on who's in charge.
Q. Are there any books that you wish you had written?
A. No, because I'm just so terribly relieved that I didn't have to write them, and that I didn't have to go through the pain and agony of creating them. I just had to enjoy them!
Q. What are your favourite books?
A. Books like
Jane Eyre and
Huckleberry Finn are formative books for me. And
The Child in Time by Ian McEwan had a big impact on me many years ago.
Q. Are there authors writing today whose books you can't wait to read?
A. There are tons! I always hate having to name names because I always leave out everybody. I want to catch up on my Canadian reading. There's a lot of great fiction coming out lately and while I'm writing fiction I'm very hard-pressed to enjoy reading it. I read it too analytically and I'd rather read as a reader.
I want to read Barbara Gowdy's
The White Bone and Margaret Atwood's
Oryx and Crake and
Atonement by Ian McEwan. I also want to read Gail Anderson-Dargatz — she's had two books since her first novel and I'd like to catch up on what she's been doing. And I've always wanted to read
The Wives of Bath by Susan Swan.
Q. Have you ever considered writing books for children?
A. It has crossed my mind. I wonder what would happen, and where it would go.
Q. What's next for you?
A. Family. The thing is there's either too much touring to do or there's a screenplay in the works for
Fall on Your Knees or there are other projects of mine that I might return to, projects for theatre. There's plenty for me to do, but starting a big new work is something that I would like to not do for the next couple of years. I think life will be full enough without starting to follow that string into the labyrinth. I don't want to miss out on my child.
Reading Group Guide
Introduction
Life on the move is already the norm for eight-year-old Madeleine McCarthy. Her family's posting to Centralia is just one of many new starts, new homes, and new friends. As the beloved daughter of Jack, an officer of the Royal Canadian Air Force, and beautiful maman Mimi, she is secure in the comforting cocoon of her family love and the optimism that embraced the early sixties. Yet even her adoring family cannot protect Madeleine from the perilous world around them, including the menace of the Cold War, and the unimaginable threat of Mr. March, whose Pied Piper power over his students is a secret burden they must carry.
By the time Madeleine turns nine, her innocent childhood is shattered and a fellow schoolmate is murdered. The father she idolizes is caught up in a web of secrets and must decide where his loyalties lie. And Madeleine must grow up knowing too much and knowing too little. Finally, twenty years later, Madeleine comes face to face with the truth and the tragedy that changed hers, and many other lives, forever.
Questions for Discussion
- The book begins "It is possible, in 1962, for a drive to be the highlight of a family week." How does this opening establish the outlook of early sixties, and how does the author illustrate changing times throughout the course of the story?
- Most of the characters in the story are not what they seem. Discuss the deceptions, innocent or nefarious, of the following characters: Jack, Mimi, Henry Froelick, Oskar Fried, Mr. March, Madeleine, and Ricky and Colleen Froelick.
- While driving to Centralia, the McCarthys pass a Welcome to Kitchener sign. "Did you know Kitchener used to be called Berlin?" Jack says. "It was settled by the German immigrants, but they changed the name during the First World War" (page 13). How does this scene establish a recurring theme throughout the story?
- Why does Jack agree to help Simon? Loyalty to his friend? Loyalty to his country? Or does Jack want to recapture the glory that was taken from him the day his flying career was cut short because of the plane accident?
- Jack calls Simon to ask him to speak to someone in authority to help Ricky. Simon reveals that no one else knows about the operation ... and no one else will. Simon says to Jack "Don't shake hands with the Devil before you meet him" (page 410). Why is this ironic, coming from Simon? Where else is the expression used?
- White lies and small secrets have a way of snowballing in the story. Jack not telling Mimi about Oskar Fried, one of the first secrets he's ever kept from his wife, leads to many unfortunate events. Discuss the path of destruction behind this, and other secrets in the story.
- Why does Mimi have such an adverse reaction to Karen Froelich from the moment she first meets her?
- Mimi often tells the children to "think nice thoughts" whenever any serious discussion comes up. What does this do to Madeleine's coping skills?
- Despite surviving such hard times as the Depression and World War II, Mimi and Jack and the rest of their generation try to raise their families on pure optimism. Why, and in what ways, does Madeleine resent this as an adult?
- What was Simon's motivation for sending Mimi the letter after Jack died?
- What does Madeleine smell when she sniffs her hands? What does the odor represent?
- Many chapters open with brief passages and excerpts separate from the main story. Why do you think the author uses this narrative technique?
- Discuss the real and imagined guilt that burden Madeleine and Jack.
About the Author
Novelist and dramatist Ann-Marie MacDonald is the author of the international bestselling and award winning novel, Fall on Your Knees. She also won the Governor General's Award for Drama and the Canadian Author's Award for Fiction. She lives in Toronto.
Read a Sample Chapter
The Way the Crow FliesA Novel
Chapter One
Many-Splendoured Things
The sun came out after the war and our world went Technicolor. Everyone had the same idea. Let's get married. Let's have kids. Let's be the ones who do it right.
It is possible, in 1962, for a drive to be the highlight of a family week. King of the road, behind the wheel on four steel-belted tires, the sky's the limit. Let's just drive, we'll find out where we're going when we get there. How many more miles, Dad?
Roads are endless vistas, city gives way to country barely mediated by suburbs. Suburbs are the best of both worlds, all you need is a car and the world is your oyster, your Edsel, your Chrysler, your Ford. Trust Texaco. Traffic is not what it will be, what's more, it's still pretty neat. There's a '53 Studebaker Coupe! -- oh look, there's the new Thunderbird ...
"'This land is your land, this land is my land ... '" A moving automobile is second only to the shower when it comes to singing, the miles fly by, the landscape changes, they pass campers and trailers -- look, another Volkswagen Beetle. It is difficult to believe that Hitler was behind something so friendly-looking and familiar as a VW bug. Dad reminds the kids that dictators often appreciate good music and are kind to animals. Hitler was a vegetarian and evil. Churchill was a drunk but good. "The world isn't black and white, kids."
In the back seat, Madeleine leans her head against the window frame, lulled by the vibrations. Her older brother is occupied with baseball cards, her parents are up front enjoying "the beautiful scenery." This is an ideal time to begin her movie. She hums "Moon River," and imagines that the audience can just see her profile, hair blowing back in the wind. They see what she sees out the window, the countryside, off to see the world, and they wonder where it is she is off to and what life will bring, there's such a lot of world to see. They wonder, who is this dark-haired girl with the pixie cut and the wistful expression? An orphan? An only child with a dead mother and a kind father? Being sent from her boarding school to spend the summer at the country house of mysterious relatives who live next to a mansion where lives a girl a little older than herself who rides horses and wears red dungarees? We're after the same rainbow's end, just around the bend ... And they are forced to run away together and solve a mystery, my Huckleberry friend ...
Through the car window, she pictures tall black letters superimposed on a background of speeding green -- "Starring Madeleine McCarthy" -- punctuated frame by frame by telephone poles, Moon River, and me ...
It is difficult to get past the opening credits so better simply to start a new movie. Pick a song to go with it. Madeleine sings, sotto voce, "'Que será, será, whatever will be will -- '" darn, we're stopping.
"I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream," says her father, pulling over.
Utterly wrapped up in her movie, Madeleine has failed to notice the big strawberry ice cream cone tilting toward the highway, festive in its party hat. "Yay!" she exclaims. Her brother rolls his eyes at her.
Everything in Canada is so much bigger than it was in Germany, the cones, the cars, the "supermarkets." She wonders what their new house will be like. And her new room -- will it be pretty? Will it be big? Que será, será ... "Name your poison," says Dad at the ice cream counter, a white wooden shack. They sell fresh corn on the cob here too. The fields are full of it -- the kind Europeans call Indian corn.
"Neapolitan, please," says Madeleine.
Her father runs a hand through his sandy crewcut and smiles through his sunglasses at the fat lady in the shade behind the counter. He and her brother have matching haircuts, although Mike's hair is even lighter. Wheat-coloured. It looks as though you could remove waxy buildup from your kitchen floor by turning him upside down and plugging him in, but his bristles are actually quite soft. He rarely allows Madeleine to touch them, however. He has strolled away now toward the highway, thumbs hooked in his belt loops -- pretending he is out in the world on his own, Madeleine knows. He must be boiling in those dungarees but he won't admit it, and he won't wear shorts. Dad never wears shorts.
"Mike, where do you think you're going?" she calls.
He ignores her. He is going on twelve.
She runs a hand through her hair the way Dad does, loving its silky shortness. A pixie cut is a far cry from a crewcut, but it's also mercifully far from the waist-length braids she endured until this spring. She accidentally cut one off during crafts in school. Maman still loves her but will probably never forgive her.
Her mother waits in the Rambler. She wears the sunglasses she got on the French Riviera last summer. She looks like a movie star. Madeleine watches her adjust the rearview mirror and freshen her lipstick. Black hair, red lips, white sunglasses. Like Jackie Kennedy -- "She copied me." Mike calls her Maman, but for Madeleine she is "Maman" at home and "Mum" in public. "Mum" is more carefree than Maman -- like penny loafers instead of Mary Janes. "Mum" goes better with "Dad." Things go better with Coke.
Her father waits with his hands in the pockets of his chinos, removes his sunglasses and squints up at the blue sky, whistling a tune through his teeth. "Smell the corn," he says. "That's the smell of pure sunshine." Madeleine puts her hands in the pockets of her short-shorts, squints up and inhales ...
The Way the Crow Flies
A Novel. Copyright © by Ann-Marie MacDonald. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
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