Richard Stursberg’s powerful analysis of the recent failure of the Canadian book publishing industry came out in print this year. He is a former media executive and writer. The news he has to offer us is shocking and very disturbing.

His publisher is Sutherland House, a relatively new publishing house in Toronto created and overseen by writer and journalist Ken Whyte. Prominent in Sutherland House’s current list, Stursberg’s “Lament for a Literature” alerts both readers and cultural observers to startlingly negative changes in book publishing in Canada and why the changes occurred when it did. The once vital and many-sided realm of Canadian literary expression has been sadly reduced by such changes. Having been academically involved in what I thought of as Canada’s golden age, I was deeply disturbed by his analysis.

Stursberg argues that the recent failure of Canadian publishing was a complex and largely unforeseen tragedy resulting from a combination of changing publishing policies, individual company bankruptcies, and the conspicuous failure of successive Canadian governments to address the perilous situation in a wise and proactive way. Decades of cultural vision and growth, and of impressive literary output, have been compromised by this devastating mess of the moment.

That growth included an unprecedented record of achievement in the arts and in popular entertainment that seemed just a few years ago to be gaining strength and momentum. Our northern and transcontinental identity had been developed by legions of writers and impressive projects, and our continuing vitality seemed assured. The literary achievements of Hugh McLennan, Margaret Laurence, Alice Munro, W.O. Mitchell, Mordecai Richler, Margaret Atwood, Robert Kroetsch, Norman Levine, Roch Carrier, Marie Claire Blais, Timothy Findley, Alistair MacLeod and Robertson Davies (to name a few) strikingly echoed in the realms of film, comedy and informed analysis.

The potential inherent in our national vision and identity seemed poised to carry us forward, encouraging us to continue investigating and celebrating our life here as distinct from the lives that continue to flourish in the United States and Britain. They were part of a golden age in which was a delight to be involved.

Was it a generation that came to end with the deaths of those listed above (we could add the likes of Norman Jewison and John Candy)? Or was there a deep cancer at work that had gone undetected for years?

Stursberg offers several perspectives on “this sad state of affairs.” He detects deep fault lines below the surface of Canadian cultural operations. In book publishing they “result(ed) from government indifference, the takeover of the Canadian market by international firms, the digital revolution, shifting social values, and stupidity.” He identifies what he calls “the general rot” in all aspects of Canadian culture, from broadcasting, newspapers and film to “Canadian drama, journalism, current affairs and comedy.” It is a devastating list affecting the CBC, the CRTC, the comedy stage, newspaper coverage of the arts, and theatre generally; overall, he calls it “the abandonment of (Canada’s) cultural sovereignty.”

Stursberg laments that “a golden age of Canadian arts” has been allowed to slip away. To me as an engaged observer, that slippage has been scarcely perceptible.

That golden age was forged in the last decades of the 20th century by a strong and unifying sense of nationalism and national identity. However, that feeling of national attentiveness has in recent years, according to Stursberg, given way to a new emphasis on “identity politics” and a fracturing of that unifying vision has followed. He sees the new emphasis on the DEI priorities that emerged in the years 2010 to 2015 as reflecting a willingness among writers to commit themselves to matters of diversity, equity and inclusion rather than to the tired, old-fashioned business of national unity.

That fracturing necessarily includes a renewed attention to the strong claims of our Indigenous peoples for recognition and reconciliation. Narratives concerned with the country’s early development and achievements seem less appealing in these new and adjusted contexts. As well, more attention has fallen upon previous failures in the country’s history — according to Stursberg “a national mania for repentance emerged.” You can’t push forward, it seems, when you are busy peddling backwards.

Focusing attention upon the troubled realm of Canadian book publishing, Stursberg emphasizes the distressing fact that three foreign-owned multinationals — HarperCollins, Penguin Random House, and Simon & Schuster — now own and control 95 per cent of the domestic book market in Canada. Disappearing in short order were once-influential firms like Douglas & McIntyre, Stoddart Publishing, and Key Porter.

The most significant loss, however, was the great nationalist company named McClelland & Stewart. Stursberg summarizes the “sad” demise of that once-crucial publishing company as “a sham from the beginning and remained one for fourteen years.” Relying on the analysis provided by the late Elaine Dewar in her aptly named study, “The Handover,” Stursberg “maps out in detail how the Canadian government was bamboozled, along with many of Canada’s leading literary figures,” by Jack McClelland’s shrewd successor, Avie Bennett, who cleverly orchestrated the dismantling of the company.

Without the presence of McClelland & Stewart and others, only five per cent of book sales in the country are now controlled by small and underfunded Canadian companies like Sutherland House, ECW, House of Anansi, Bilblioasis, Talon Books, and Nimbus. Stursberg commends Sutherland House for its impressive efforts thus far.

A struggle for writers

Where do Canadian writers turn today with their new ideas or completed manuscripts? I’ve heard it said by well-informed sources that distinguished writers like Charlotte Gray, John Boyco, and Tim Cook are now finding it almost impossible to sell a book concept to the Big Three publishers; in their turn those companies admit they are no longer very interested in considering mere Canadian subjects.

But what is most troubling for Stursberg is the indifference and or the inability of the Canadian government to address these problems effectively. Having failed in the past, they seem paralyzed in the present.

Though a short book in length, “Lament for a Literature” is a much deeper analysis of problems at work on the Canadian cultural scene than I have presented here. The author also looks at book marketing (the Chapters factor), digital aspects of book production, in-depth book reviewing, and past and present book laws in Canada. Overall, after describing the ongoing failures in the Canadian book publishing business, he offers some suggestions about how to address these deep cultural problems. Much for him has to do with the need for enlightened government decision-making and control.

For my part, I am more sanguine and optimistic about Canada, even as I am deeply alarmed by Stursberg’s analysis. Having taught my entire career at Trent and having witnessed so many achievements by our writers and artists, I remain hopeful that creative Canadians will continue to give us excellent products drawn from their imaginations. I have had the pleasure of knowing many of our great writers and film makers and I don’t see their beloved visions slackening in the hands of a new generation.

We have lost many important and productive figures, but I continue to see hope in the works of writers like Wayne Johnston, Michael Crummey, Michael Winter, Jane Urquhart, Anne Michaels, Yann Martel and Charles Foran. And the ever productive and challenging Margaret Atwood remains very active and engaged. The ground rules may have changed for Canadian writers, but the beat goes on for them, as it does for their many readers. I like to think that the problem Stursberg identifies can be addressed in enlightened ways in the future, both by our writers and artists and by our government leaders.

© Peterborough Examiner