Character on a desperate quest to save himself
The Vancouver Sun’s book club is discussing Kathryn Kuitenbrouwer’s All The Broken Things. We will be chatting online with Kruiten -brouwer at noon on Monday, March 3. Plan to join the conversation at www. vancouversun. com/ books.
Julia Denholm: I don’t much like watercolours ( sorry, Mum). I like big, bold paintings with TONS of paint on the canvas. And that’s the difference between All the Broken Things and work by Davies or Irving. The watercolour is no less beautiful, but it’s just not my preference.
I wonder if this preference is my way of expressing my slight disappointment with the character development in All the Broken Things. As someone who loves big, challenging characters ( which explains my love for Davies and Irving, among others), I found the characters in this novel to be more subtly drawn than I would have perhaps wished.
In so many places I wanted to know more about motivation: why does Bo fight Ernie? Why does Emily care so much about Bo? Why does the teacher care about Bo and his family? Why does Rose drink, specifically? Why, why, why?
I’m a smart enough reader to figure out why, of course, but I would have liked more. I cared about these characters, but not enough to make them unforgettable. Maybe the problem is that I’m already familiar with many of the themes this book explores, and I’m more partial to the way other authors have explored them. I like this book, but I don’t love it.
Melanie Jackson: Bo’s unhappy, doomed mom, Rose, has a terrible poignancy. I recently finished Anthony De Sa’s Barnacle Love, also about immigrants to Canada. In both De Sa’s work and Kuitenbrouwer’s, the children at times feel less than understanding toward their parents who came here from very different countries. As the child of immigrants myself, I am wondering if the two books represent a reconsideration, a stopping in our busy, selfabsorbed progress as later gens, to look back at those first gens. Maybe, finally, we’re appreciating some of what they went through in uprooting and relocating. The reader may feel more compassion for Rose than Bo always can, because he’s too young as yet. Reading about Rose makes us think more about the immigrant experience, rather than taking it quite so much for granted. Which is a long way round of saying that I admire All The Broken Things.
As for Bo, I liked his anger. I liked that he doesn’t know what to do with his anger, or whom, exactly, to target it at. He’s kind of a Marlon Brando Wild One in the making, which probably explains his attraction for Emily. Girls that age love a tormented rebel! His uncertainty about what to do — maybe his inability to accept that there’s not a lot he can do — leads to the great ending. However, I believe the topic of the ending is for future discussion. I can’t wait!
Ian Weir: Absolutely, Bo is a compelling and poignant character on a purely realistic level. But what I love is the way his journey coheres on a fable- level as well. Bo is Sir Orfeo, embarking on a desperate quest to rescue his beloved Heurodis, as embodied in his heartbreakingly damaged sister Orange. At least, that’s what I was assuming, until I started to realize — halfway through the novel — that Bo’s ultimate quest is to rescue and redeem himself. And in a remarkable way, a number of the core characters are functioning as projections of the warring elements in Bo’s own spirit.
Orange is also eerily evocative of Bo’s own blighted potential. Bo’s evolving relationship with his beloved Bear — the wild animal that lives in semi- darkness underneath the porch — is a playing- out of Bo’s struggle with his growing rage. And when Bo/ Orfeo runs wild into the “dark heart” of the city, he encounters a grotesque mirror image of himself: the deranged Soldier Man.
Monique Sherrett: Of all the characters I enjoyed Gerry the most. His conflict, earnestness and approach to Bo seemed steady and the most constant. Sure he’s a bit shady but not like Max who really creeped me out in the first part of the novel. Max to me was ominous. That said I found him unreliable as a character in the latter half of the novel. I didn’t find his sudden compassion believable but maybe I just wanted him to be a one- dimensional bad guy. The reality and complexities of human nature are difficult to portray and I applaud our author for what she has accomplished with each of the characters.
Trevor Battye: So I rooted for Bo, and his Mom, and Orange. I really did. There was definitely a likability to them as characters, and an “oh how sad I hope things get better for these people” especially early on, I wanted good things to happen to them, I really did. But this is exactly what made the novel hard to read; it got really challenging to have to go back to a book and pick up the story and continue to root, a bit like being a Canucks fan these days. How much worse can these people’s lives be? But in keeping with the positivity I still rooted for them. I’m also with Monique on Team Gerry, and at least he was a nicer shade of shady. That was the other challenge that I had here — we’re boiling it down to shades of shadiness. Our book club panel includes Ian Weir, author of the novel Daniel O’Thunder; Vancouver young- adult author Melanie Jackson; Daphne Wood, the Vancouver Public Library’s director, planning and development; Julia Denholm, division chair, humanities at Langara College; Monique Sherrett, principal at Boxcar Marketing and founder of somisguided.com; Trevor Battye, a partner in Clevers Media; Vancouver Sun books editor Tracy Sherlock; and city editor Bev Wake.