The Parabolist Nicholas Ruddock
(published by Doubleday Canada)
What the judges said:
"Cadavers, med students, Mexican poetry and a smattering of Crisco are but a few of the ingredients in this literary page-turner. With a vivid cast of characters and evocative prose, first-time novelist Nicholas Ruddock takes us on a delirious ride through the streets of 1970s Toronto as an intricate mystery unfolds. Darkly humourous, sensual and erudite, The Parabolist is at once an auspicious debut and a sumptuous, adrenaline-fueled read."
The Parabolist is a smart and funny novel about murder, sex, medical school, poetry and vigilante justice on the streets of Toronto in 1975. Told through interlacing narratives, the story funnels towards the eye of an unsolved crime: on a rainy summer night, a woman is raped and very nearly murdered, but for the intervention of two drunken vigilantes who kill her attacker before fleeing the scene. The only clue the police have about their identities: a smear of Crisco shortening found on the victim.
Nicholas Ruddock's
(photo by Koko Bonaparte)
Nicholas Ruddock's writing has been published in The Dalhousie Review, The Antigonish Review, Fiddlehead, Prism International, Grain, sub-Terrain, Event, and Exile. His short story "How Eunice Got Her Baby" was published in the Journey Prize Anthology in 2007, and a short film adaptation, narrated by Gordon Pinsent, has been made by the Canadian Film Centre. Ruddock lives in Guelph, Ontario.
Excerpt from The Parabolist
Pp 33-34:
We'll go to the island, she said.
The island?
He had no idea there were islands in Toronto.
So they took the subway to Union Station. The subway cars were crowded and they both hung on to the metal poles for support, and it was inevitable, the way the subway cars swayed on the turns, that they jostled each other and stood closer together than would have been natural otherwise.
At Union Station, they walked the rest of the way to the ferry docks. It was festive and crowded with children. There was a strong wind in the harbour, whitecaps slapped against the side of the vessel. Sam McBride, it said on the bridge, up high.
This is beautiful, he said, the air is fresh. I like the waves, Valerie.
She had sandwiches in a bag and a book of poetry and they went to a distant beach and put a blanket down on the sand. They looked upon what might have been an ocean. Gulls circled, cormorants flew by, uninterested.
Nicholas Ruddock
Nicholas Ruddock's