Home »
Signals in Blood Sports of the writer Eden Robinson becomes
Book Review
By Derryll White
Robinson, Eden (2006). Blood Sports.
Eden Robinson captures the feel and rhythm of Vancouverâs Downtown East Side in this novel. She brings long-time residents alive, not focusing so much on the homeless and destitute but on those like Tom Bauer and Pauline Mazenkowski who grew into adulthood there.
The reader may struggle sometimes with the chronology, the line on which the story unrolls. The ultimate love and commitment between Tom, Mel and Paulie is, however, a constant.
Robinson is a daring writer, employing diverse forms within the larger context. She produces very subtle humour in the most surprising circumstances. She alters rhythms of dialogue with placid human interaction followed immediately by violent, seemingly mindless scenes of brutality.
There are lots of signals in âBlood Sportsâ of the strong, magical writer that Eden Robinson becomes in her Trickster Trilogy.
********
Excerpts from the book:
PNE â Walking through the Pacific National Exhibition with Paulie, Mel strapped to his chest, only a few weeks old, Labour Day weekend. The crush of kids, of couples and seniors buying lottery tickets for the Dream Home on display. Theyâd toured it, tried to imagine owning a house with four bedrooms. They couldnât afford the tickets, though. Theyâd spent seven-fifty each getting in. Paulie determined to get out and do something, sick of staring at the walls. Blew the rest of their budget on food: Paulie had a bag of mini-doughnuts and Tom had a Sno Cone. They wandered through the Marketplace, window shopping, snacking on samples, watching the salesmen and women hustling their buns. Paulie would lean over and slip his tongue, moving the raspberry-flavoured ice back and forth between them, their mouths numb and stained Kool-Aid red.
MISTAKES â It didnât make any sense. Muscle Shirt had called him a snitch, but Tom had kept his mouth shut. Paulieâd never go running to the cops, not with her record. They were such small fry, it wasnât funny. It had to be a sick, stupid joke.
But Firebug lacked a sense of ha-ha. Personality type AB, All Business. Everything in its place. Firebugâs perfectly tidy writing, textbook cursive. A dot for every âIâ and a cross for every âtâ. Firebug wasnât random. Doesnât make any sense, doesnât make any sense, doesnât. Sense.
â Derryll White once wrote books but now chooses to read and write about them. When not reading he writes history for the web at www.basininstitute.org.
