FFWD Weekly
Copyright © 1998 All Rights Reserved.



BOOKS
by Harry Vandervlist

Perhaps it's not surprising that after a career of over 40 years, Brian Moore should resemble his books. As the 77-year-old author of Black Robe and The Luck of Ginger Coffey crosses the Palliser Hotel's lounge during a recent promotional tour, he's dressed in elegant leather shoes, wool slacks and a rich blue velvet jacket. The man, like his prose style, is polished. There's a patina of quality there, but nothing trendy or excessively of-the-moment. It's not that he never takes any chances - several of his books have focused on controversial political topics- you just get the feeling that careful thought precedes those sometimes risky decisions.

For instance, Moore thought carefully before choosing to build his most recent novel, The Magician's Wife, around the voice and experience of a 19th century French woman. He could have allowed her husband, the famous French magician Houdin, to narrate his own story. (Yes, Houdin is a real historical figure, and the name of the more recent Harry Houdini is a tribute to the earlier magician.) Instead we see it all through the eyes of his wife. At first an unwilling accomplice in a French imperialist plot unfolding in Algeria, she develops from a mere witness into a subversive participant as the plot reaches its surprising climax.

Historical plausibility limited her usefulness as a witness, Moore concedes. "At that time it would be unusual for a young woman to have too much freedom of movement or independence."

On the other hand, "if Houdin were telling the story, he would have to explain his tricks. But the secret of a magician is that you watch him. If I pick her, she becomes that audience. Also, I read the memoirs of the original magician and I found him very self-satisfied. I just didn't like him."

Moore has also given thought to the reasons so many well-known writers have recently turned to historical subjects. "There are a lot of writers like myself who have written about their own lives, their friends, and they don't want to repeat themselves. So they look for their obsessions elsewhere. Mine is faith and loss of faith. It struck me that this concern is very modern. Islam is what we fear now, now that communism is no longer a threat. We fear that total commitment.

Also, I've always been interested in Messianic leaders, people who could move crowds with their speech. We could produce someone like that again tomorrow."

These old obsessions led Moore to write about a historical encounter between a people of "reason" (the French) and a people of "faith" (Algerian Moslems of 150 years ago). The resulting story (this has happened to Moore before) turns out to be highly topical.

"You might write about the past, but often it segues into the present. Terrible things are happening in Algeria now that wouldn't be happening if France had never colonized Algeria."

Despite his long and distinguished career, Moore has never developed a single, recognizable "brand image" as an author. "I never wrote one novel that had success all over the world. All my books have been so different that I have no 'parish,' no territory. A lot of writing is like having a trade-name."

Yet Moore tries to avoid repeating himself, feeling that writers who do repeat themes fall off as they get older.

Perhaps one reason Moore lacks a simple public image is that no one can figure out which country he belongs to. In Publisher's Weekly, the Belfast-born author avowed that his heart remains Irish and that he hopes to be buried there when the time comes. However, when in Calgary this year he called himself a Canadian and he retains the Canadian citizenship he adopted in 1948. "I have a house in Nova Scotia," he points out, though he spends part of every year in Europe.

Due to this lack of solid ground, he's perceived differently by different audiences. "I'm better known as a writer in England than in Canada. My books do well in Germany, but there I'm known more as an Irish or American author than as a Canadian. I've never been accepted in Canada, probably because I went to the US (in 1959), which was unforgivable.

"But I've never felt American. It's not that I hate them or anything, I just don't feel close to them. McCarthy and the Vietnam War gave me two good reasons not to become an American. Americans are a different race, to me. They're not us."

(Could it be that with one small word - "us" - Brian Moore just defined himself as truly Canadian?)


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