‘The urgency of the voices’

Canada Is Not the 51^st F**king State! Canadians Face Off Against Donald Trump’s Worst Idea Ever
by John Hughes (ed.)

New Westminster: Cosmic Cranium Press, 2025
$27.99  /  9781069072610

Reviewed by Jeffrey Stychin

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I approached Canada Is Not the 51st F**king State with a mix of curiosity and hesitation, unsure what to expect from a book that boldly positions itself at the intersection of politics, national identity, and cultural defiance. I am not a scholar of Canadian political history, nor have I lived a life defined by activism or confrontation, as much as I’ve always felt an aversion to authoritarian control and the way society functions. Yet, even in my relative insulation I could feel the urgency of the voices within these pages. Hughes has assembled a collection that is unapologetically Canadian, but also fiercely human—interrogating the subtle and overt ways in which external pressures, particularly from the United States, challenge the country’s sovereignty and sense of self.

The Dictatorial administration of our southern neighbour has become a drunken, rampaging bull with no clear goal other than the immediate satisfaction of current whim. Power, money, and ego have culminated in the sickening, authoritarian rule of Donald Trump.

Reading these essays felt like sitting around a table with a group of friends who know their history, understand their society, and are unafraid to speak plainly. From retired soldiers reflecting on the nuances of defending a nation to schoolteachers articulating the lessons of civic responsibility to students. This collection presents a tapestry of perspectives that are as varied as they are enlightening. I was particularly struck by the moments when contributors reveal personal anecdotes—small, intimate stories that resonate far beyond their immediate context. They remind the reader that politics is not merely policy or rhetoric; it is lived experience, and it shapes the very fabric of identity.

So, I grew up apart from my culture, my language. And then, as it worked out, apart from my identity! I would say, just over a decade ago, I started to reconnect with my cultural roots.

Had I not been so young when my dad died, I’m sure we would have found much on which to disagree. He was conservative in many ways, with very black-and-white views, and I doubt he was thrilled about his tax bracket, especially as he worked hard, raised six children with my mom, and knew from his diagnosis he would not live long.

What is remarkable about Hughes’ editorial approach is the balance he strikes between accessibility and seriousness. The essays are engaging and at times laced with humour, yet they never dilute the importance of the issues at hand. There is a defiance that runs throughout—a refusal to allow the idea of Canada as a “51st state” to linger unchallenged. Yet, this defiance is not rooted in hostility or resentment; it is rooted in a profound sense of pride, responsibility, and love for the country, a shared compassion for one another and realization that we are all Canadians, living together in a country many forget about. After reading this book, I was left reflecting on my own understanding of Canada, questioning the assumptions I had unconsciously absorbed from media and culture. How often do we, comfortably distant from global or even national crises, fail to recognize the fragility of the freedoms we enjoy? Hughes’ collection forces this question into the light with stark honesty: it’ll make you think twice about being part of such a patchworked, albeit young country.

The themes of the book—identity, sovereignty, and resilience—intertwine with countercultural undertones that refuse neat categorization. There is an artistry in the way contributors employ language, drawing the reader into contemplations of culture, politics, and morality simultaneously. In many ways, the book is a mirror: it reflects both the absurdity and beauty of contemporary Canadian life, and it challenges us to consider what it truly means to be Canadian in an era of global interconnectedness and geopolitical pressure. The essays collectively argue that Canadian identity is not something that can be dictated, negotiated, or assumed by proximity to another nation; it is lived, earned, and continuously defended through both action and thought.

I was repeatedly struck by the tension between humility and assertiveness. The contributors acknowledge Canada’s flaws and imperfections—not shying away from critique, but confronting it head-on. In doing so, they reject the simplicity of nationalist rhetoric that idolizes a past or imagines a flawless present. Instead, Hughes’ anthology invites introspection, encouraging the reader to recognize the paradoxes and contradictions inherent in any society, and to engage with them in a way that is constructive rather than dismissive. There is a quiet power in this approach, a way of holding a mirror to the reader without condemning them, instead asking them to engage, reflect, and perhaps act.

One of the most compelling aspects of the collection is its counterculture energy. There is a clear rejection of the idea that Canada’s value lies in its utility to the United States, a challenge to a worldview that reduces national identity to geopolitical convenience. The essays ripple with a sense of defiance that is both invigorating and necessary, particularly in an era when political rhetoric often blurs the line between hyperbole and threat. Yet what elevates the book above a mere political manifesto is its humanity. The stories, reflections, and observations are grounded in lived experience. They are not abstractions but testimonies of individuals navigating their place in the world while defending the integrity of their nation.

I found myself underlining passages, folding over pages, pausing to reread sections that resonated with my own understanding of freedom, responsibility, and identity. Even for someone like me—someone who does not navigate the frontlines of political turmoil—the essays were important. They illuminated the ways in which our complacency, ignorance, or indifference can be co-opted by forces both internal and external, and how, in contrast, vigilance, reflection, and engagement are acts of profound personal and collective significance. Hughes’ curation ensures that each contributor’s voice is distinct, yet the book feels cohesive, unified by a shared commitment to truthtelling and the defence of Canadian sovereignty.

In terms of critique, the book occasionally assumes a degree of familiarity with Canadian political and cultural nuance that may challenge international readers. Some references and historical contexts are lightly explained, presuming a baseline knowledge that not all readers may possess. However, these moments are few, and the overall accessibility of the text ensures that its impact is not diminished. Indeed, for readers willing to engage with the material thoughtfully, these nuances enrich rather than obstruct the reading experience, prompting curiosity and further inquiry.

Yes, I understand that we have spent more than 150 years trying to figure it all out. But now is the time to get moving. How we do that is our business alone. As for Donald Trump, he can go jump in Lake Ontario—on the American side.

Ultimately, Canada Is Not the 51st F**king State is more than a political or cultural commentary—it is a call to awareness, a celebration of individuality and community, and a meditation on the responsibilities inherent in freedom. For me, the book served as a mirror and a window: a mirror reflecting the assumptions I carried unexamined, and a window into lives, perspectives, and experiences that demand recognition and respect. The courage, honesty, and creativity on display throughout the essays left an indelible impression. I finished the book with a renewed sense of gratitude and urgency: gratitude for the freedoms I have, and urgency in the recognition that those freedoms are neither inevitable nor guaranteed. Hughes and his contributors remind us that identity is not passive; it is active, constantly negotiated, and fiercely defended.

Canada Is Not the 51st F**king State is a work that demands attention, reflection, and action. It is unflinching, eloquent, and profoundly human. It challenged me to confront my own assumptions, expand my understanding of Canadian identity, and left me with questions that I will carry long after having read it. For anyone seeking to understand what it means to be Canadian today, or anyone simply curious about how ordinary individuals respond to extraordinary political rhetoric, this book is essential reading.

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Jeffrey Stychin  studied verse and poetry through music and art. He began writing as a means of catharsis and as a way to communicate with himself and others. A Vancouver barber by day, a poet by night, he currently resides with his thoughts and dreams in a quiet place full of trees. [Editor’s note: Jeffrey Stychin has recently reviewed books by Katarina Thorsen, Marc Edge, Jon Bartlett & Brian Robertson, Nellwyn Lampert, Pamela Oakley, Christian Smith, Gillian Turnbull (eds.), and Jill Payne for The British Columbia Review.]

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The British Columbia Review

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

Formerly The Ormsby Review, The British Columbia Review is an on-line 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.

“Only connect.” – E.M. Forster