if I knew David Adams Richards

 In the late seventies, when I was living in Florenceville, I belonged to a writers group. Some were better writers than others however the group kept us all writing, and reading aloud, our work.  Ann Brennan, our self-styled  leadeer, announced at one meeting that she had an invitation for us to visit The Ice House Gang.   The afore mentioned was a group of witters with ties to University of New Brunswick in Fredericton.   They met in; you guessed it, the old ice house on the university campus.
 

Several of us were brave enough to attend, remember we were also obligated to read from our work.  The Fredericton gang numbered twelve. Memorable were Nancy and Bill Bauer, both were wonderful characters.  Bill read his narrative verse from what seemed to be a roll of toilet paper decorated to resemble a scarf.  Except for one other fellow, the others have slipped into oblivion. 

a younger David

The writer who is etched in my memory was a large fellow about my age.  His long hair and beard obscured most of his face and seemed in contrast to his double barreled name. When he read, his stance seemed diminished his bulk.  His mumble and unclear speech made him difficult to understand.  His writing was peppered with four letter words and we found the plot lines difficult to follow. I remember one of the writers commenting  to me; “If there is one person here who will never be published it is David.”    Yes the man in question was David Adam Richards. 

We were incorrect in our assumptions re publishing, for when David was reading to us he had already published The Coming of Winter and The Dungarvon Whooper.  David has gone on to win a Giller for Mercy among the children, the Order  of Canada, two Governor Generals and many, many more awards.  In all Adams Richards has more than twenty five published works to his credit. 

I do not enjoy his work any more now than I did at THE ICE HOUSE. David’s story telling manner does not resonate with me. I find the dirt poverty of the Miramichi too gritty.  However, I recognize his talent and the weight of his stories and characters.  I shall never forget Autumn Henderson, the albino woman in Mercy among the children.   After thirty plus years Adams Richards cries of the Dungarvon Whopper still echo in my memory.

Saint Mac’s high school here in Saint John has chosen The Friends of Meager Fortune to be read by all their students.  I am sure some of those students will find it hard going.  My granddaughter who is in grade eleven may not enjoy this book but she will have no trouble reading it.  “Friends” won the Commonwealth Book prize and has been compared to Steinbeck.    I think I will read along.

And no one asked me …if I knew David Adams Richards.