Encampments, yesterday and today

A Home For Lucy
by Mike Levitt

Toronto: Lorimer Books, 2026
$19.95 / 9781459420595

Peril at Hell’s Gate
by Bill Freeman

Toronto: Lorimer Books, 2026
$19.95 / 9781459420625

Reviewed by Alison Acheson

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A Home for Lucy is a story that hits close to home—pun intended—for the young protagonist, Ben. His classmate, Lucy, does not have a bricks and mortar and wood home. She lives in a tent with her mother as they try to save money to live in something with a door instead of a canvas flap.

The encampment in this story is on the nearby river, and people whose lives are in flux live there; Ben reveals to Lucy his own story of “flux,” and this creates an understanding between them as both fight their town and the ungiving mentality of a school bully for some level of home security for those at the river camp.

The story is lively, and the characters are worth caring about. There’s a gentle sincerity to the whole without being too earnest or sentimental. The opening scene, one of real danger, with a dog rescue in freezing cold weather, sets up that Lucy saves Ben from possible hypothermia. From the beginning, then, Ben is not “rescuing” those in the encampment; a reciprocity is established from that moment. Throughout the read, I came to appreciate this dynamic.

There are minor moments when Ben’s character slips unexpectedly, a moment, for instance, when he inexplicably seems to feel that he can’t be on-side with Lucy. Where does this come from? Perhaps a push for a bit more tension in the story? Yet when there are moments that might hold tension, they’re not given the time and space to develop. There are set-ups for such, and then no scene of resolution; the choices and actions happen off-stage, and the story moves on.

For instance, Ben and Lucy are informed that their actions might come with some school-rule consequences. And they do briefly consider what might happen as a result. But the story plunges on, decisions unchanged, unquestioned (why?), and we never circle back to revisit this possibility. We can only surmise that the matter was dropped. Young readers, in their literary adventures, have the opportunity to rehearse the stuff of real life, and in not sharing close-up, there’s a loss. 

This is altogether a breathlessly quick read at 126 pages. The word count is low and the story moves, presumably for “reluctant” readers. But a word to give nuance, even explanation, here and there, would not be unwelcome. This really is a quibble, though.

I loved the ageing punk dude in the local radio station, still living with the credo of making community work. And many young readers will appreciate the subtle thread of minor romance.

It is in the portrayal of the working (or employment-seeking) homeless that this story has its strength. People who are working and striving, people who get up and eat breakfast, seek coffee and a place to shower, and dress and prep for another day at the workplace or on the interview circuit, yes, those people are finding it more and more difficult to have a roof and a real bathroom and stove, and we—of all ages—need to be thinking about this reality in our Canadian part of the world, our cities and even our small towns, as it is in this story, because homelessness has spread. The story acknowledges those living with addiction and mental health issues, as should be, but the focus here is on those with financial hardship. And that’s a great number of people, too—too many.

Mike Levitt (My True Colours) works as a mental health clinician with the Lillooet Tribal Council, and lives in Kamloops. He has used his experience as a retired high school teacher and coach to write award-winning stories for young people.

Peril At Hell’s Gate is number ten in the Bains series, written by Bill Freeman, who has been given the prestigious Vicky Metcalfe Award for his body of work for young people.

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It’s the story of two siblings who go west from Saskatchewan for paid work on the construction of the CPR railway line through its most challenging miles of the southern Fraser Canyon (“a place where no human should venture, for surely these are the gates of Hell,” wrote Simon Fraser). The siblings meet a Chinese labourer who becomes a friend, and they witness some of the injustices that were a part of the building of this national institution. 

The older sibling is sixteen year old Katie, who dresses as a boy to meet the requirements of employment, and her fourteen year old brother, Robbie, who “was still nervous and uncertain, but that didn’t matter.” Later, Robbie plays a significant role with the “rivermen” of the story, and his growing up and managing his anxiety is key.

Katie coming to someplace on her own terms of being female in her historical time is also key. It’s not made entirely clear that this is an individual choice but, for Katie, it feels to be so. Her choice and understanding feels and reads to be of the time—which is important in historical works. For the contemporary reader, the discussion of how this might have changed, and should have changed, can be left for the classroom, the kitchen table, or the car on the way to practice.

This novel also has a feeling of being shorter and quicker than it needs to be. At times, the brevity works well. Examples: the reader isn’t given explicit explanation for the nature of horse “hobbles” or—exactly—pemmican. It’s a positive that young readers can feel obliged to do a bit of research. If they resist that urge, they can gather enough from the context not to be left behind. And the words will have entered into their lexicon.

But there are other abbreviated bits: a chapter ends with the statement that “by morning the camp of the Chinese workers was washed out.” There’s no description; and there’s also no sense of what has been lost. Tents and food? Or people? Precious personal belongings? It feels like a moment and opportunity lost.

The photographs are a solid addition, though, and do their thousand-words worth. And the knowledge about unions, labour action, and negotiating is needed; many solid classroom discussions will grow.

The mental images that take shape and colour in the reader’s mind, of the danger in the destruction of solid rocks for train tunnels, and the impossibility of moving a steam vessel up the intense rapids of Hell’s Gate—too well-named—are intense. They’ll stay with the reader long after the read, and long after any school quiz on the subject. Fiction is, after all, a great purveyor of truth. 

The tensions and camaraderie between the group of railwaymen and boatmen, or “rivermen,” add another discussion point for the classroom: where does a reader see their self? In a group that is respectful and not caught up in useless hierarchy—and wanting some fun, too? Or in the group that is punitive and small-minded? The character of the “boss’s wife,” the nonfiction person of Delia Onderdonk, bears some discussion, too, as she strives to maintain her positioning and struggles with choices and realities. Freeman (Prairie Fire!) handles that well in the story, and leaves room for growing awareness of feminist issues, the nature of oppression, and more, instead of quick judgement.   

While this story is number ten in a series, it reads readily as a standalone and creates curiosity about the other titles. The research is embedded with care and thought.

Alison Acheson is the author of almost a dozen books for all ages, including a memoir of caregiving, Dance Me to the End: Ten Months and Ten Days with ALS (TouchWood, 2019). She writes on Substack—The Unschool for Writers—and lives on the East Side of Vancouver. [Editor’s note: Alison has reviewed recent books by Linda DeMeulemeester, François Gravel and Martine Latulippe, Nikki Bergstresser and Kim Spencer, Catherine Little, Evelyn Sue Wong, Lorna Shultz Nicholson, Pam Withers, Becky Citra, Paul Yee, Leslie Gentile, Caroline Lavoie, Janice Lynn Mather, Li Charmaine Anne, Linda DeMeulemeester, and Hanako Masutani for BCR; Blue Hours, her 2025 novel, was reviewed by Trish Bowering.]

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The British Columbia Review

Interim Editors: Trevor Marc Hughes (nonfiction), 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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