On a recent Vancouver Sunday afternoon, a young man stumbles upon a secret sport invented more than a century before, at the birth of his city. Thus begins The Man Game, Lee Henderson’s epic tale of loved requited and not, that crosses the contemporary and historical in an extravagant, anarchistic retelling of the early days of a pioneer town on the edge of the known world.
Whew, I almost forgot to draw your attention to the following review (but, with Philip Marchard, it's more than a review, always; he's a stylist, IOW):
"Only the Land Is Real in 'Phantom' Fiction".
Anyway, there's much to be said concerning Lee Henderson's novel, The Man Game; but, Phil always manages to extract the essential truths when it comes to same.
Also? He's a McLuhanatic; and, in fact, his (definitive) biography of Marshall provided the template for my own (with his permission, of course); and, when his bio was re-issued, none other than Neil Postman wrote its Introduction, a badge of honour on the information nerveway. He came to participate in a colloquium I conceived and created during my tenure as writer-in-rez at the University of Windsor (during 1993-4); and, he was both astonishingly literate and mesmerising articulate. IOW? He's a lovely man, very kind, very unassuming, deeply committed to literature, and not at all a flashy splash-in-the-pan Can(adian).
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