Canadian literature has lost its best friend
Those who know anything about Jack Rabinovitch realize that he was a unique figure in Canadian cultural history. Until he appeared on the scene there was no Canadian who had personally created a new national institution, backed it generously with his own energy and money and affectionately watched over it for the rest of his life.
Most philanthropists believed (and still believe) in hands-off donations, letting others do the organizing and policy-making. They treat philanthropy as something to be accomplished in odd hours, like golf.
That was not Jack Rabinovitch’s way. On Sunday, when the news of his death at age 87 emerged, many of us thought about the talents he demonstrated while making the Giller Prize an original and effective project in philanthropy — talents that will no longer be available and will be seriously missed.
He named the prize in memory of his late wife, Doris Giller, which was fitting because she had shared with him an intense pleasure in literature. Giller was an editor on the Montreal Star, later a book-page editor on the Montreal Gazette and the Toronto Star. She died of cancer in 1993.
In the early stages of what we might call the Giller era, Rabinovitch made it clear by his actions that this was not a minor event in his career — and he hoped it was significant for literature. He made it his business to see that Giller Prize winners sold well. He won allies among the publishers and booksellers, encouraging them to promote the short-list and the final winner. He sometimes acknowledged that he wanted to publicize the best Canadian writers, so that they could live by their writing — a rarity in Canada in the 20th century, but (due mostly to the Giller) not quite so much a rarity today.
Professionals, from authors to librarians, from critics to publishers, were used to the sleepiness surrounding the Governor General’s Awards, when only the authors and their relatives knew who had won. At first they were shocked by the determination — Rabinovitch’s determination — that came with the Giller.
Certainly, the Giller Prize has turned into a national institution, a key element in the development of our literature, which is what Rabinovitch dreamed. It’s a brilliant spotlight turned every year since 1994 on the new books of fiction produced in this country. Each winner appears on television and on front pages across the country — and the runners-up are almost as excited as the winners, knowing that being a Giller finalist automatically moves a writer upward on the literary ladder. Rabinovitch created an aura of excitement by inviting a vast array of book people, and assorted celebrities, to a lavish announcement dinner that soon became Toronto’s party of the year.
He inserted a whiff of mystery and suspense into the process, perhaps an echo of his taste for poker. At the Giller, no one has ever leaked the prize-winning book until the night of the dinner. It was established that the judges (who change every year) didn’t make their final choice until late in the afternoon of that day, so even Rabinovitch didn’t know till one of the judges announced the title and author from the stage.
In the beginning the main prize, provided by Rabinovitch, was $25,000. But a dozen years ago Rabinovitch joined with Scotiabank to create the Scotiabank Giller Prize. The winner’s purse doubled to $50,000. In 2008, the purse increased again, the winner taking $50,000 and each finalist $5,000. It’s now the richest award in Canadian literature and has led to other prizes increasing their worth.
What about the Giller winners? Nobody expected the Giller would discover new talent, but in fact the choices made by the judges have often ranged far beyond the accepted canon of Canadian literature. Certainly Alice Munro, Mordecai Richler and Margaret Atwood have been winners, but the big prize has also gone to many authors with relatively limited reputations — Madeleine Thien, Johanna Skibsrud, Elizabeth Hay and quite a few more. Ever since 1994, when the first Giller Prize went to the then-littleknown M.G. Vassanji for The Book of Secrets, there’s been no sense that the Giller favours established names.
Born in Montreal, Rabinovitch studied literature at McGill. He worked briefly as a reporter and then became a successful businessman, as a builder and developer. After moving to Toronto in 1985, he managed the building of the Princess Margaret cancer hospital — “on time, and under budget,” as his fans always point out.
But literature had hooked him early and it remained among his passions. One reason was his friendship with Mordecai Richler, which began in high school. With the Giller Prize, Rabinovitch managed to bring together his competence in management with his cultural interests, and made the two of them work together. Canadian literature seldom had such a lucky break.