Ed-Weirdo to the rescue
Surviving Summer Camp
by Paul Breau
Vancouver: TKI Productions, 2026
$13.99 / 9781777976637
Reviewed by Brett Josef Grubisic
*
As I read Surviving Summer Camp, Naked, an essay collection that David Sedaris published in 1997, surfaced in my thoughts.
The essays in that book’s first half depict scenes from Sedaris’ childhood in North Carolina, and in them young David comes across—winningly—as a neurotic, delusional, narcissistic, eccentric, creative, and, as told by Sedaris the accomplished essayist, deeply funny and fully offbeat. He’s the putz who you cheer for—and who gets the last laugh by mocking himself and his family and laughing all the way to the bank (to quote Liberace; to date, Sedaris has sold over 16 million books).
Derek Turnbow, a character in the final season of Stranger Things, sprang to mind too.
Derek wears glasses and is rotund; he possesses the mouth of the proverbial fishwife and the wounded heart of a bully. He’s mean and unpopular, stuck with “Dipshit Derek” (a zinger of a nickname made worse by being alliterative), and he’s learned that a caustic tongue and a willingness to push his literal weight around assures him of negligible power—but power nonetheless.
“Fear is a necessary evolutionary trait,” verbally precocious tween Edward “Ed-Weirdo” Martin says to his brothers Adam and Callum near the beginning of Surviving Summer Camp. He’s a bookworm, his “seasonal allergies had seasonal allergies,”and he’s not social (“I hate kids and they hate me. We have an understanding–it’s a whole thing,” he informs his dad).
In the first pages of Surviving Summer Camp (the fifth book in Vancouver-based Paul Breau’s Step-by-Step series) Edward is railing against his parents for inflicting an unusually cruel punishment. How dare they, his tone exclaims, how could they, and, by the way is there no justice and how unfair is life on this mortal coil?!? He’s a tad melodramatic and takes some comfort in his role as Victim #1 in the movie of his life. (Elsewhere, in another genre, he’d cast himself as Cinderella—all cinders and grubby toil and not a prince or a fairy godmother in sight.)
Edward fights with his brothers a lot, and the latest round has resulted in a broken figurine that his mother cherishes. Edward feels remorse, of course, but nevertheless believes the punishment doesn’t fit the crime: he will forced to endure two weeks in the “great outdoors” with his brothers at Sunnyside Summer Camp. Overweight, allergy-prone, bug-phobic, and appropriately wary of groups of kids lightly supervised by unpredictable adolescents, he’s on the verge of a freak-out.
All the while, Edward’s narrating, courtesy of Breau, is voluble and dextrous. Although Edward is neither as mean or foul-mouthed as Derek Turnbow (or as inherently weird as Sedaris in Naked), he’s found his happy place in words; like Derek and David, he’s good at them. As a result, he’s clever and funny and his narration is buoyant. With the prissiness of a young Truman Capote, Edward expresses dread and despair and fear, but instead of being dark or morose, his storytelling is droll and, well, clever.
Even when he spots Zack—tormentor! nemesis!—at the camp, the lightness of tone suggests a real limit to Zack’s power. As comical in nature, Surviving Summer Camp basically outlaws real harm. From the outset Breau signals that in spite of potential threats to Edward’s mental and physical wellbeing, this early chapter book refrains from seriousness. It acknowledges harm but opts to steer its protagonist away from it. Young readers may identify with Edward’s sense of himself and his plights, but the book’s tone does not encourage them to fear for his life.
Within a day at camp, though, things aren’t looking up. As a camp counsellor, Zack leans into manly chain of command rhetoric and military authoritarianism. More than a bully, he’s a sadist. And Edward soon earns two nicknames that really sting: Lard-ass and (following an unfortunate bout of vomiting) Barf-Boy.
Even so, his brothers are gentler to him than usual, he meets a potential friends, and other counsellors, all young women, laugh at his witticism as they teach him skills, which range from knot-tying to hypothermia preparedness.
The novel’s climactic scene runs over several chapters. On a lengthy hike, the brother are separated from the rest (thanks, Zack). And, starting with a cougar, the Martin boys run into problem after problem.
As the mishaps intensify, Edward has no choice but to rely on himself (and on memories of camp lessons related to wilderness survival) to help his brothers. And all of it is riveting stuff.
Edward surprises himself by being capable and resilient; under pressure, he’s a minor miracle. He never intended to be the hero in his own story (preferring instead to stay indoors alone and play with his action figures), but once he’s there he sees the advantages of both experiences outside his (small-in-scope) norm and self-reliance.
He understands too that someone else’s view or opinion about him is not a fate that cannot be escaped. Like broccoli, a bit of self-determination under duress turns out to be very good for him.
*
Brett Josef Grubisic assigns, edits, and posts fiction, poetry, and children’s lit reviews for BCR; occasionally, he contributes reviews as well. Less occasionally, he doodles on Cull, his work-in-progress sixth novel. [He’s written about recent books by Charles Demers and Kirsten Pendreigh,Joseph Dandurand, Cathalynn Cindy Labonté-Smith, Susannah M. Smith, Théodora Armstrong, Faith Erin Hicks, Hetxw’ms Gyetxw, Nathan Fairbairn, Otoniya Bitek, Martin Butler, Hannah Beach and Maggie Hutchings, Zsuzsi Gartner (ed.), Jennifer Cooper, Caroline Adderson, Sunny Dhillon, Wanda John-Kehewin, Ryan O’Dowd, Michael V. Smith, David Bouchard, Alice Turski, Louise Sidley, K.J. Denny (ed.), Sonali Zohra, Carrie Anne Vanderhoop, Kirsten Pendreigh, Sam Wiebe, Maureen Young, Daniel Anctil, and Adam Welch for BCR.]
*
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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