‘Late on a wet October evening…’

On Borrowed Time
by Tony Berryman

N.p.: Twintree Books: 2025
$22.95 / 9781777133566

Reviewed by Jessica Poon

*

In graduate school, I struggled with Seemingly Basic Banalities, which did not go unnoticed by my brilliant thesis supervisor. She often said to me, “What are their bodies doing? Where are they? What time of day is it? How much time has passed? What are they wearing?” 

I found these inquiries absolutely maddening. The answer, of course, was, I had no idea. I wanted to have characters with philosophy degrees and inferiority complexes that spat out incandescent observations like floating heads in a nebulous, unknown galaxy. I found dialogue electrifying; exposition, less so. “You can do that if you’re Dionne Brand,” my thesis supervisor said, “but you aren’t.” Touché. Eventually, I realized I didn’t need to struggle so much. The most effective counterpunch to a Great Fear of Boring Exposition is … to write boring exposition.

All this to say, I appreciate when an author is straightforward with exposition from the onset. On Borrowed Time, the second massage therapy thriller by Invermere author Tony Berryman (following The Night Nurse), establishes setting, time, and a catalyzing event with this first paragraph:

Jackson saw the attack but thought nothing of it. Not right away. Few people were exiting the North Vancouver SeaBus terminal this late on a wet October evening, so when the slim man speed-walked out of the gate and veered into the older gentleman in front of him it was hard to miss.

Notice the introduction of the protagonist. Notice the variation in sentence types—the first one is short, the second is even shorter, and the third one is considerably longer, unfurling with a dependent clause and all that glorious exposition I was talking about. 

The premise of On Borrowed Time is catchy enough. Jackson is a registered massage therapist in Vancouver who travels to his clients’ abodes. An old man, bleeding and injured, gives Jackson an envelope full of fascia drawings, which leads Jackson to discover Blast Dynamics, a company doing biomedical research. What biomedical research roughly means, here, is illegal immortality research.

Blast Dynamics hires Jackson to provide massages to the employees. As you might expect, there’s no quest for immortality without sinister consequences. The philosopher’s stone in On Borrowed Time is called the Ponce de Leon, a once-a-year implant that heals all injuries, freezes time, and is completely absent of governmental regulation.

The Ponce de Leon, while kept confidential and top-secret, becomes eminently desirable to assorted baddies. And when the Ponce de Leon attracts the attention of Vancouver’s most notorious criminals, Jackson is somehow in the midst of it all.

Where the writing sometimes falters is the relationship between Jackson and his girlfriend, Marilyn. A toothbrush becomes synecdoche for staying the night. The coyness of their coitus feels like a dog owner spelling out the word ‘treat’ instead of saying the word—meanwhile, the dog still knows there are treats. No one has been fooled, only patronized.

For instance:

Tiny, glimmering tornados of energy spun away from her feet like they wanted to leave the floor with each bouncing step.
He could help with that.
A half-hour later, Jackson looked out from the wreckage of his bed at the line of clothing that stretched toward the living room.

And:

Bright lines of silver arced towards him from the balls of her feet, revealing her whole body poised for a leonine pounce. Her right side pulsed with a touch of red guarding, but she’d spoken truly, her ribs were only bruised. He’d kiss them better, and more.
This was going to be good.

Marilyn, a police officer, is portrayed as a redeeming woman saviour type figure. Although her job easily marks her as an ostensibly Strong Independent Woman in a male-dominated industry, she is nevertheless still in the paradigm of a Beauty and the Beast type character, the miraculous Belle figure whose feminine energy and sexual desirability (or willingness) redeem a man who, despite being fully grown for quite some time, has never learned to express emotions healthily. Her effect on Jackson’s life is described as such:

It had left him feeling broken in a way; far too broken to risk sharing his life with anyone.
Then Marilyn had called. Kept calling, and slowly fostered a deeper healing. 
Now here they were. His condition was back under control. A woman as in his life, a miracle he’d almost given up on.

Marilyn’s term of endearment for Jackson is Freckles and Jackson’s nickname for her is Legs, likely due to their “leonine bounce.” Supposedly, couples who adopt nauseating terms of endearment have more enduring relationships, so, there’s that.

There are arguably few thrillers set in Vancouver that happen without the involvement of gangs; On Borrowed Time is no exception. I noticed that white characters were generally treated as default, or revealed as such by their last names—unless they were Croatian, in which case “the Croat” becomes the referent. While fascia is discussed frequently, I did feel there were missed opportunities to discuss the intricacies of massage therapy—for instance, how it is an industry dominated by women, for various reasons. Although Jackson’s skill receives frequent compliments from characters, it didn’t feel like a particularly in-depth look at the industry itself.

Overall, On Borrowed Time maximizes Vancouver as a setting, is full of gunfire and revelations, and occupies an interesting niche that merits further exploration.

Originally from East Vancouver, Jessica Poon is a writer, former line cook, and pianist of dubious merit who recently returned to BC after completing a MFA in Creative Writing at the University of Guelph. [Editor’s note: Jessica interviewed Sheung-King, and recently reviewed books by Ian and Will Ferguson, Christine Stringer, Faye Arcand, Liann Zhang, Sarah Leavitt, Jeff Dupuis and A.G. Pasquella, Angela Douglas, Zazie Todd, Holly Brickley, Alastair McAlpine, and Jack Wang for BCR.]

*

The British Columbia Review

Interim Editors, 2023-26: Trevor Marc Hughes (non-fiction), Brett Josef Grubisic (fiction and poetry)
Publisher: Richard Mackie

Formerly The Ormsby Review, The British Columbia Review is an online book review and journal service for BC writers and readers. The Advisory Board now consists of Jean Barman, Wade Davis, Robin Fisher, Barry Gough, Hugh Johnston, Kathy Mezei, Patricia Roy, and Graeme Wynn. Provincial Government Patron (since September 2018): Creative BC. Honorary Patron: Yosef Wosk. Scholarly Patron: SFU Graduate Liberal Studies. The British Columbia Review was founded in 2016 by Richard Mackie and Alan Twigg.

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