Originally, when I still toyed with the sane thought of having a running theme for my blog, I thought about doing book reviews. Then I discovered the AV Club and promptly felt wholly inadequate.

(Also, I would never have the time to read books with enough frequency to review them for a blog.)

But I really liked the two (two!) reviews I did end up writing, so maybe I’ll make it a feature of this blog instead. Here’s one of the original reviews that spawned my interest in blogging.

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Title: The Gum Thief
Author: Douglas Coupland
Year Published: 2007
Genre: General
Serialization: stand-alone
Rating: 8/10
Premise: Our forty-something-year-old protagonist (Roger) dragging himself through life by the means of copious amounts of alcohol and a minimum-wage gig at Staples, an office supplies superstore, begins keeping a diary consisting of his thoughts, and the imagined thoughts of one of his coworkers. As lucky plot device would have it, said coworker (Bethany), almost half his age, happens across this volume and they embark upon an awkward correspondence composed of journal entries, occasional letters, and snippets of the novel of which Roger has dreamed for decades, titled Glove Pond. The book itself stays firmly on the platonic plane where the two protagonists are concerned, and weaves its bittersweet story through several first-person viewpoints. Other cameos: an asshole coworker, Roger’s ex-wife, and Bethany’s mom.

Review: Douglas Coupland is probably the hottest Canadian writer on the market right now, which doesn’t say much, as the last “hot” Canadian writer was really Mordecai Richler of Jacob Two Two fame, and he really … wasn’t. I suppose Ondaatje counts, sort of, but I digress. I’ve read two of Coupland’s previous works: Jpod, which is currently being adapted into a TV series of the same name, and Microserfs.

The Gum Thief follows a similar theme of exploring hope and despair and the idea of cultivating extraordinary relationships in settings we have come to see as ordinary. (Look at me, I sound like my English teacher). The protagonist, Roger, is set up as a hapless could-be-good person who’s made a whole lot of bad decisions under duress and ended up at Staples. Scared by the thought of never changing (and thus nullifying the effects of whatever ‘good thing’ may happen to him in the future), he decides to take up writing. Only when the point of view switches to “Bethany (for real)” does the reader even realize he’s been imitating his coworker.

I found the book surprisingly honest. Take away the snark and all you have is a tentative trust between two people teetering on the edge of Depression with a capital D. Each subsequent letter/journal from the two characters demonstrate both a yearning for companionship and a reluctance to open up. Roger claims that Bethany inspires him to write, and that writing is the only good thing in his life right now, which is a fairly universal theme, the idea that ‘creativity’ – be it music or art or writing – can save someone in the throes of despair. Though the novel that Roger pens throughout the course of the story is filled with pathetic personalities, traumatising pasts, and ungrasped potential, you still get the vague sense that they have the option to be happy, if only they would pick it. Not coincidentally, the novel-within-a-novel ends at a point where all glamour and pretense put on by the protagonists completely crumble, and they seem happy, for once.

I did quite enjoy the message that “waiting for things to bottom out is futile, because there is always something lower than where you are right now” (paraphrased). It doesn’t trifle with the whole “darkest before dawn, only up from now” crap that self-help books are so fond of touting with great aplomb. Happiness is hard, much harder than misery, and it takes a conscious effort to achieve it.

High point: The novel itself ends with a letter from a creative writing teacher to Roger, discussing his story (as well as other writing assignments from the class), and the reader is left somewhat uncertain as to whether the teacher meant the novel-in-a-novel, or The Gum Thief itself. I thought it was quite clever, being a lover of ambiguity, and relish the thought that Roger at the end of it all opted to go back to School and make something of himself.

The book didn’t flow as well as I would’ve liked. It felt a bit as though Coupland decided halfway through the book to switch protagonists. The first few letters centre primarily on Roger, whereas later in the book (when he falls into a depressive funk and gets fired), he acts as the sounding board for the worries of other characters with little reaction. Though it is entirely plausible that someone depressed would withdraw from all support from friends and spend his days in his room, brooding, this development has the unfortunate side effect of making Roger a somewhat two-dimensional character. He started out with much promise: an unfortunate past, hints of struggles to get through said past, a complicated net of acquaintances, loathing of himself combined with encouragement of others. And then, nothing.

Which in and of itself wasn’t the criticism; it is rather that he rebounds from his depression with nothing more than a “Sorry I haven’t been writing” and becomes seemingly a new man willing to give life another chance. Which just – no. Bethany’s experiences open his eyes and inspire him to slough off all his old demons and start anew? Please. If we could have at least seen some form of character development between “woe is me, I will die working at Staples” and “Community College and cheerful letters!”, it would have made the story much more… poignant, I suppose, is the pretentious word I was looking for. It would’ve carried the message that people can change if they wanted to much more strongly. (Stronglier? No.)

Bethany was a lovely character though. Coupland pretty much nailed the depressed, existentialist twenty-four-year-old with a less-than-model mother perfectly, down to the cycling through various clothing styles/speech patterns/eating habits/exercise routines in an attempt to redefine her identity. She was meant to be ordinary, and she was exactly that.

The story is by no means epic or classic, but it’s a good read and well worth your three hours.