No Great Mischief

“‘He was,’ he said, composing himself and after a thoughtful moment, ‘crying for his history. He had left his country and lost his wife and spoke a foreign language. He had left as a husband and arrived as a widower and a grandfather, and he was responsible for all those people clustered around him. He was,’ he said, looking up to the sky, ‘like the goose who points the V, and he temporarily wavered and lost his courage.’” 

The story of Calum Ruadh travelling from Scotland to Canada sets the tone for the events in the part. It is the formative event for Alex’s family, the journey against which they define all journeys. For Alex’s ancestor, it is a tough trip. He loses a wife and finds himself in a strange new world. The incident described in the quote should have been his moment of triumph, as he finally landed in the New World. However, he admits to suffering from a momentary lapse in confidence and courage. This raw humanity, this brief self-doubt, will affect many of the characters throughout the novel. They share many of Calum Ruadh’s qualities, and as this story repeats across the generations, their ancestor becomes the template with which many of their lives are sketched. 

An unnamed servant in the Carteret home is disgusted by Mammy Jane’s behavior. Mammy Jane admonishes her to care for Dodie as if he were her own son. Having grown up free, this servant knows that she is not a mother-by-proxy but merely an employee. She realizes that Mammy Jane is so favored by the Carterets because they see her more as a pet then as a human being. This relates to the motif of dogs and pets. 

After the death of Alex’s parents, the ice begins to melt and disappear back into the sea. Even though only Colin’s body is never found, there is no doubt about what happened. The melting away of the ice represents—at the same time—the permanence and the impermanence of nature. The impermanence of the ice is to be expected, as it happens every single year. Even though it robbed Alex of his parents, there is no lasting monument to their death, and even the site of their demise disappears. It leaves behind only the sea, which in turn provides Alex and his family with sustenance.

This impermanent ice is, however, part of a wider cyclical force. Every year, the ice melts and then returns. As happens later in the novel, this will not be the first time members of Alex’s family run into trouble on the ice. It is a fact of life in Cape Breton, part of living in this part of the world. Although the ice melts away and returns every year, trying to stop it or halt it would be like trying to hold back the tides. Alex is powerless in the face of nature; even if it killed his parents, he knows not to entertain futile thoughts of revenge or despair.

“This is a story of lives which turned out differently than was intended. And obviously much of this information is not really mine at all—not in the sense that I experienced it. For, as I said, while our parents were drowning, my sister and I were playing store. And in the generations a long time before, we did not see Calum Ruadh’s faithful dog swimming after her family to a life beyond the sea. And we did not see our great-great-great-grandmother, the former Catherine MacPherson, sewn into a canvas bag and thrown also into that same sea. But still, whatever its inaccuracies, this information has come to be known in the manner that family members come to know one another because they share such close proximity. Or as Grandma would say, ‘How could you not know that?’” 

This quotation functions as a summation of the entire novel. The “story of lives which turned out differently than intended” forms the backbone of the narrative. The only two characters who fulfill their long-lasting ambitions are Catherine, who becomes an actress, and Alex, who becomes an orthodontist. Both brother and sister are the representatives of the modern world, while people such as Calum and Alex’s grandfather feel out of place, their lives turning out very differently than they expected. Just as the ancestral Catherine never lived to see the New World, Calum never survived into fully-fledged middle age; his stint in prison robbed him of his life. Alex’s grandfather, similarly, was unable to enjoy his life as a happily married man after the death of his wife. They, like Catherine, become a part of the wider family story, their lives subsumed into the greater lore of clann Chalum Ruaidh.

Sitting in the black car, Dr. Miller ponders his fate. He knows he would have been welcome to sit with his friend Dr. Price were he a servant rather than an accomplished physician. Anti-black sentiment is thus not an absolute hatred for black Americans, but a hatred for the idea that they are in fact equal. This philosophical thinking-through helps him to cope with everyday animosity, and connects to the motif of the philosopher and the fool. 

Alex’s ventures out into the city streets are the only times when the narrative enters an urban environment. The main bulk of the narrative takes place in Cape Breton or at the mining cape, which removes the need for claustrophobic descriptions of modern cities. But these descriptions help to highlight the contrast between the modern world and the past. Calum seems both out of place and at home in his small, rundown apartment. Compared to the Calum of the past, it seems unimaginable that he would end up in such a place. But Calum finds himself cowed in the face of the changing era. The cranes with wrecking balls are silent; they represent the innate flaws in Calum’s character that will knock down his old self and build a modern, flawed character in its place. 

“It is hard when looking at the pasts of other people to understand the fine points of their lives. It is difficult to know the exact shadings of dates which were never written down and to know the intricacies of events which we have not lived through ourselves but only viewed from the distances of time and space.” 

Although Alex admits that trying to examine the pasts of other people is hard, it is nevertheless what he spends the entire novel trying to do. After his meeting with Calum, he gets caught up in introspection. Whether these thoughts bother him constantly or whether he is feeling particularly introspective, it is not clear. But he feels the need to examine the finer details of his life. In doing so, the audience discovers that this is not really Alex’s story, but the story of his family as a whole. Alex seeks out alternative perspectives: He talks to Catherine, Calum, and his grandparents about other family members, and they are all too happy to share anecdotes and memories. The “exact shadings” of events are different when he gains a new perspective. Unlike many family members, who are content with their version of events, this acceptance of the difficulty of finding objective truth is what separates Alex from the other characters. 

“When they spoke it was often in Gaelic, which remained the language of the kitchen and the country for almost a generation after it became somewhat unfashionable in the living rooms of the town. In the time following their return to the old Calum Ruadh house and land, my brothers spoke Gaelic more and more, as if somehow by returning to the old land they had returned to the old language of that land as well. It being still the language of the place in which they worked.” 

The importance of Gaelic is a consistent theme throughout the novel. The language becomes an almost private means of communication, a niche privilege of belonging to clann Chalum Ruaidh. In the quote above, the use of the language ties to the tension between the old world and the modern world, between the rural and urban environments. Alex suggests that Gaelic becomes unfashionable in the town, which represents the modern world. But his brothers and his family—who are rural people—keep the language alive. It becomes a part of their identity, and in places such as the mining community, the deliberate use of Gaelic becomes a means of reinforcing that identity and confirming to the world that one is a member of the rural clann Chalum Ruaidh.

“‘Well, we have to be going now,’ said Grandpa, rising from his chair and seeming almost self-conscious because of the serious turn of the conversation. ‘But I will have one for the road.’” 

In this section of the book, characters must confront difficult and complicated parts of history. Grandpa, who continuously repeats elements of the family’s history, has rarely sat down and really thought about the implications of the battles or the events he mentions. When Alex’s grandfather offers him a fresh perspective, one which alters the dynamics between the historical characters and robs them of some of their nostalgic shine, Grandpa seems uninterested and almost uncomfortable. He recommends that Alex’s grandfather drink a beer, trying to mute the difficulty of the suggestion with alcohol. The complexities and the truth of history, the text suggests, can be uncomfortable. Often, people will not want to live with that discomfort and would prefer instead to hold on to the version of events that makes them feel better about themselves.

“‘You know,’ he said, stopping suddenly and placing his hand upon my shoulder as I drove, ‘I missed and still miss your father a great deal. I was with him longer than he was able to be with you, and Grandpa and Grandma here knew him in still a different way. Perhaps,’ he said after a pause, ‘it’s just the same sadness in different packages.’” 

The idea of the “same sadness in different packages” is core to the narrative. Alex repeatedly experiences loss and tragedy. From the death of his parents to the murder of Fern Picard and Calum’s eventual downfall, there seems to be no way to escape the sadness in life; it simply keeps coming back in different forms. The fact that this is Alex’s uncle explaining this to him—shortly before he discovers the death of his son, Alexander MacDonald—weaves Alex into a wider family history, suggesting that everyone in the family knows sadness in their own private way. By sharing their different perspectives and “packages,” they are better able to come to terms with their grief and understand how to move forward. 

“My hope is constant in thee.” 

The motto repeats constantly throughout the novel, as a form of greeting, as praise, or as a simple sentence to fill the empty air. It has no one particular meaning; even though there is a firm historical anecdote that establishes the meaning, the various contexts in which it is used suggest that it has a malleable, evolving subtext. This changing meaning is more a vague reinforcement of the importance of historical identity, rather than a specific sentiment. Calum, Alex’s grandparents, and other members of the family say it to one another, whereby it serves the purpose of reminding the other person of the weight of history and their place in it. The meaning becomes divorced from ideas of “hope” or “constant,” instead simply reaffirming a familial bond in that specific moment, regardless of the context. 

“‘You are from here,’ said the woman. ‘No,’ said my sister, ‘I’m from Canada.’ ‘That may be,’ said the woman. ‘But you are really from here. You have just been away for a while.’” 

During Catherine’s trip to Scotland, she encounters a group of people who may be distant relatives. Although their exact relationship is never explicitly stated, they share similar physical characteristics, the Gaelic language, and historical anecdotes: all the uniting factors Catherine has come to expect from clann Chalum Ruaidh in Canada. When the woman tells her that she is “really from here” and that she has just “been away for a while,” Catherine finds herself with a renewed sense of identity. It is as though geography, distance, and the passage of time have been unable to remove her from her ancestral homeland. Modern notions such as Canadian citizenship crumble in the face of authentic local identity, and Catherine reconnects with her family’s past.

“Everything in the beer store exudes happiness and goodwill. It is as if the store is imitating the relentless TV commercials, and obviously both the commercials and the store itself are born of similar agencies. I do not think the agencies would recruit my blood-stained brother sitting on the edge of his bed in his underwear as an example of one of their happy consumers.” 

The sections of the narrative that take place in the present are marked by a simple switch in tense. The author employs the present tense for Alex’s visit to Calum and the past tense for all the memories. It is a clear delineation between the two worlds, separating the modern age and the past. But it also serves to impose a different temporal sensation on the narrative. The events in the present are described in minute detail; there is no time for introspection or consideration. Rather, it is every single image that Alex sees, as he sees it. His description of the apartments, of the protestors, and all the details of inner-city life are then immediately followed up with tangents, such as this thought about TV commercials. This almost stream-of-consciousness approach helps to separate out the nostalgic, considered past tense of Alex’s memories and indicate to the reader the difference between the two worlds. 

“‘Once, before everything happened,’ Grandma once said to my twin sister and me, ‘we were all sitting around the table. It was years before you two or Colin were born. Grandpa had his beer bottle on the table and Calum was perhaps four or five. As he passed it the sun came through the window in a certain way that reflected off the glass and he saw his little boy’s reflection thrown back towards him.’ ‘Oh,’ Calum said, ‘I see myself in that beer bottle. It’s really me. It’s like I’m in there.’ ‘He was so excited that I never forgot it. Later I saw him looking at the bottle, but the light had changed and he couldn’t find himself again. It seemed almost like a prophecy of what was to happen later. He was such a dear little boy.’” 

This quote features one of the most obvious uses of foreshadowing in the book. The moment Calum sees himself in the bottle, while sitting in his grandparents’ kitchen, speaks to his future as an alcoholic. It reinforces the sense that Calum’s eventual downfall is inevitable, that his life will be ruined because of the characteristics he builds up over the course of many years in clann Chalum Ruaidh. The use of the past tense by Alex’s Grandma is also telling. She says that Calum “was” such a dear little boy, implying that something has changed. Whether this is just his normal growth into adulthood or some other, darker implication, it is not clear. 

The narrator explains that, when the black populace goes into hiding, it is not because of their guilt—but because of their knowledge they may be lynched despite their guilt. This passage describes lynching as a pervasive problem, which does not carry out justice but rather creates a spectacle of violence that makes white Americans hungry for more.

The lamp of the poor is a repeated refrain, used throughout the novel whenever the moon is looking down upon the characters. It is an ever-present reminder of the few constancies in life, as well as an indication that—even for the most economically disenfranchised—there remains hope. But this version of the moon, which watches over all the characters, seems limited to the past. In the modern era, it is “hardy visible” and no longer protects people like Calum. The “pollution of prosperity” indicates that Alex recognizes the influence of modernity in this respect, knowing that it has robbed his brother of his innocence. The moon which used to light the world outside Calum’s bedroom, allowing him the chance to shoot deer and provide food for his brothers, is no longer there. Calum has lost his safety net, which the Gaelic interpretation of the moon represents. 

“I often wonder if her Gaelic thoughts were somehow different because of her language, but I guess you think and dream in whatever language you are given.” 

Again, the importance of Gaelic is clear in this quote. Here, it is used to add again to the idea that the different perspectives on the world lead to a different kind of history being created. The use of a language to describe thoughts or dreams shapes the world differently than if a person were talking in English. Gaelic and English offer different linguistic perspectives on the world. Likewise, it is interesting to note that languages are described as being “given.” The idea of Gaelic as a gift ties into its importance in terms of identity. Just as an identity is given to a person by their family and the events of their life, the Gaelic language becomes another pillar of this identity. 

“It is almost as if we are beyond language.” 

Further to the previous quote, the importance of language in the novel is difficult to understate. In this quote, there is a sense that the modern world has moved beyond the intricacies of language and ethnic identity. At the mining camp, the various groups divide into ethnic (and thus, linguistic) demographics. In the modern era, however, Alex thinks about the fruit pickers who come from various ethnic (and linguistic) backgrounds but are subjected to the same bad treatment. The world has moved on from a time when a language could be such a key part of an identity, becoming a more class-based world, full of economic distinctions.  

Mr. Delamere speaks to Dr. Miller and affirms Sandy’s innocence in the killing of Mrs. Ochiltree. He states that his manservant is equal in his esteem to his own grandson. This is another instance of irony: Mr. Delamere will soon discover it was in fact his grandson who committed the murder. 

The relationship between Marcel and Alex is one of the few times that a linguistic (or ethnic) divide crosses. By learning to speak the man’s language (and by teaching him some English), Alex can understand the similarities they share. It is as though they are living in the same house, he suggests, which adds a domestic flavor and reinforces the notion that a shared language can help to build a family identity. The bond that Marcel and Alex share is also important in that it foreshadows the relationship between Alex’s American cousin, Alexander MacDonald, and the French Canadians later in the book, a relationship that ends badly. 

“‘Well,’ said Grandpa, ‘there is lots of beer here. Why don’t you drink some of it? It will help you to forget.’

‘They didn’t come all this way,’ said Grandfather quietly, ‘because they wanted to forget.’

Grandpa was silent for a while. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I guess they didn’t.’” 

In this section of the book, Alex and his brothers take a small boat out to the house where they lived with their parents. Both of their grandparents accompany them. On the way home, Grandpa offers them the opportunity to drink beer and forget, while Alex’s grandfather reminds him that the entire trip has been an act of preserving memory. This is important, as it solidifies the importance of treasuring memories and continuing to think of the departed in later life. The point of the trip is to ensure that the lives of the dead family members are never forgotten, while the trip itself will be something that is remembered and, in time, turned into another short story or anecdote to share around a dinner table. Alex himself, as the narrator, is doing exactly this. The chapter is a reminder of the ways in which memories become consecrated in the minds of the characters.

“His ongoing documentation took on a life beyond his actual existence. It seemed as if a part of his life continued to go forth, as the hair and the fingernails of the dead continue to grow, beyond the cessation of their host. It was almost as if the new Alexander MacDonald was the beneficiary of a certain kind of gift. A gift from a dead donor who shared the same blood group and was color-compatible, although the two had never met. A gift which might allow an extended life for each of them. An extended life, though false, allowing each of them to go forward. Not for a long journey. Just for a while.”

This description of the documents belonging to Alex’s dead cousin, Alexander MacDonald (which the brothers then give to their American cousin, also named Alexander MacDonald) speaks to the idea of memory as a means of preserving life. Just as the anecdotes and stories the family tells one another about the dead help to preserve their memory, the use of the dead man’s documents does the same. In a way, they keep Alexander MacDonald alive. The shirt given to Alex by the dead man’s mother does the same thing, suggesting that life is not limited to a single human body, but is able to extend beyond death. The paraphernalia of the man’s life is used after his death and—in a bureaucratic way—it is as though he never died. 

“He was always in the midst of loss.” 

As Catherine and Alex discuss their grandfather, they find him a difficult man to fully understand. Years later, they are still having revelations about his personality and his character, which speaks to his depth. As Catherine says, the man was perpetually amid loss, whether it was the loss of his father, his wife, or his child. At every generation, he loses an important family member. These relationships come to define him; perhaps one of the reasons he keeps himself so separate from the world is that he does not want to build up close ties, only to lose another person to death. Alex’s grandfather is also wrapped up in the fear that any fresh connections he makes might also be lost in the future. 

“‘When I used to read I used to think that they were a lot like us. That they were alone with their landscape for a long, long time. That it went into them somehow. Our friend used to say that long ago in Scotland they were our friends, part of the “auld alliance,” they used to call it. Did you ever hear of that?’” 

The “auld alliance” is the historical name for the traditionally close relationship between Scotland and France, which united to fight against the English. Grandma discusses this alliance with Alex, though the conversation appears late in the narrative. Its position seems to suggest that there is a fundamental flaw in the feud between Calum and Fern Picard, as well as their respective ethnic groups. Their dispute is at odds with history, and in a novel so obsessed with historical precedent, this is perhaps why it ended so badly. That it is Alex’s Grandma who is saying this is important, as the auld alliance becomes another feature of the idiomatic wisdom she repeats throughout the novel. The auld alliance should have been respected, and the two groups should have been united.

“We always sang. We always sang when we were working and then we just sang because we liked to. We were used to it. Some of the songs were long, verse after verse. It wasn’t until the radio came along that we thought maybe our songs were too long. The ones on the radio only lasted a few minutes.”

Alex’s conversation with his Grandma is an important end point for the novel. Throughout the text, the obsession over memory and identity has driven the plot forward and motivated the characters. However, at the close, Alex’s Grandma is unable to either identify her grandson or remember who he is. As such, her memories become detached from reality, and her consciousness seems to default to a heightened version of her previous self. She becomes trapped inside her own anecdotes and idioms, forced to repeat herself until the day she dies. If Calum is a man in the wrong time, she becomes a character detached from linear time. By the end, she has only her memories and her certainty in the importance of clann Chalum Ruaidh.

“All of us are better when we’re loved.” 

Of all the idioms and snatches of conversations repeated throughout the book, this quote is one of the most important. It does not appear as often as the others, but it speaks the transformative effect that a close family relationship—as well as love—is able to provide. It speaks to the improvement that the family can offer to individuals and reminds the reader that characters, even in their darkest moments, have some hope of salvation. This is especially true in the final lines of the novel, as Calum prepares to kill himself. The final line is the repeated use of the above quote, offering a moment of pathos at the end of a difficult life, made possible by the love of the family. 

“‘Oh,’ she says. ‘This was their boarding house. They only stayed here for a little while. They said the money wasn’t good enough so they went across the border to the States. I remember some of their names, Gingras, MacKenzie, Belanger. Do those names ring a bell?’

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Those names ring a bell. Thanks anyway.’” 

By the end of the novel, Alex has driven back to his home and left Calum alone in the apartment. When he arrives, he notices a small annotation in the phone book and realizes that it could be from Marcel Gingras. When he speaks to the woman who owns the apartment where he has the last available point of contact, she says that they have moved on. In this moment, Alex experiences a final, fleeting connection to the past. He is unable to reconcile his memories of Marcel with the man himself, so Alex must rely on memories. Even when he speaks to the woman, his words are laden with dramatic irony. The name “rings a bell,” he says, though this underplays the strength of the bond he shared with Marcel. The reader knows how desperate Alex is to rekindle the relationship, hoping that it might be able to inform his contemporary existence. But, in the end, the possibility comes to nothing, and Alex is left alone with his memories of the man and nothing else.