True confessions

Decadence
by Richard Kelly Kemick

Windsor: Biblioasis, 2026
$24.95  /  9781771967136

Reviewed by Bill Paul

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A good personal essay demonstrates a writer’s storytelling abilities and their fearless honesty. In Decadence, a collection of autobiographical essays by Richard Kelly Kemick, the author explores the humorous and sometimes emotionally painful ups and downs of adolescence and the trials of a young adult trying to find his way in the world. Sadness is mixed with cautious optimism. Kemick is the disappointed romantic, the observant outsider, and the devoted friend.

Memories and anecdotes from the past make their way into many of the essays. He writes about family, high school, friendships, travelling, loneliness, and most significantly his relationship with Litia, his wife. Two of the essays are about the family dog. The author, who lives in Vancouver, is witty, curious, nostalgic, analytical and overly solemn. He has a way of noticing odd details and meaningful moments that pass us by when we are with those closest to us.

Generally, his storytelling style strikes a balance between the bittersweet and the comical. In “Playing God,” he talks about the joy he experiences each December when he unpacks several boxes of porcelain ornamental buildings and accessories and sets up a miniature Christmas village on the dining room table at his parent’s home in Calgary. His collection of pieces include a bank, a gift shop, some streetlights, a bridge, and a few buskers (and much, much more).

In an excited but slightly tongue in cheek manner, he describes his Christmas porcelain village as a place “so close to being alive.” In the same essay, he tells us about an encounter he had in July with a woman shopper at Santa’s Little Helper, a store in Edmonton that sells miniature Christmas buildings and decorations. When the two meet and talk their meeting has the feel of a scene from the movie When Harry Met Sally. Here’s a part of their conversation.

“Do you have a village?” she asked.

“Yes, I do,” I said. “It boasts a population of nearly two hundred.” (Sure I was lying but who doesn’t fib about size?)

“Mine’s much more modest,” she said, blushing slightly. “But I recently found a three-story brick apartment building with a cafe beneath.”

“It’s so rare to find porcelain brick.”

“And I found a pub with a straw roof,” she added.

“That’s beautiful,” I said. “I hope someone doesn’t blow it down.” And together we laughed breathlessly. “Tell me,” I said. “What does your skyline look like?”

“I bought some mountains last year,” she replied, “as a backdrop. They’re craggy and plunging.”

“Mine has a moon,” I said. “It’s full and white and throbs with song.”

The fear of failure is theme that often comes up in Kemick’s essays. In “Mother’s Day” he ruminates about his mom’s inability to find steady work. And despite some success as a writer, he worries about the responsibilities and challenges he will face in the grown-up world. At the end of “The Young Taxidermist of Alberta,” he asks: “What versions of ourselves should we present to the world, and what versions should be hidden or subdued or abandoned in some haunted shed?”

In “Rules,” he examines his marriage with Litia, a woman he met when he was twenty-years-old and Litia was twenty-four and working as an elementary school teacher. She’s the backbone of their relationship and is credited with showing him “there were other ways to live.” The two have been together for ten years and over time their situation becomes unusually complicated. His recurring fear is that they will split up and then he will have to contend with a “quaking gorge of loneliness.”

What to do? Well, first off, Litia has made plans for her life going forward that differ from Kemick’s. To say anything more would be to reveal too much about their unique circumstances. In his own idiosyncratic way, Kemick wrestles with his predicament, embarking on an inner monologue made up of a flurry of thoughts and mixed emotions. This guy is really firmly attached to his partner. But his marriage may be coming to an end. How will he adapt?

For both “All On the Line,” an article about international volleyball, and “The Young Taxidermist of Alberta,” Kemick adopts the reporting style of a magazine journalist. Questions. Observations. More questions. The strongest essays (and that includes “Playing God”) are written from a personal point of view. For example, a portrait of his family called “The Kemick House.” Or “Halloween,” an account of a high school Halloween party that he hosted at his family’s home when he was in grade ten.

Overall, Decadence is a collection of essays that has mixed results. Kemick (Hello, Horse) is a talky, observational writer constructing meaning from the drama of the everyday. In the past 10 years he’s won two National Magazine Awards, published a play and a book of short stories. Writing allows him to share his enthusiasms and his affection for “the things – the discarded, the useless, the unworkable – that possess our hearts.”

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East Vancouverite Bill Paul enjoys photography and reading fiction and nonfiction. [Editor’s note: Bill has recently reviewed books by Dietrich Kalteis, Meg Todd, Clea Young, Iona Whishaw, Stephen Osborne, and Corinna Chong 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.

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