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| Steve Glines |
Review of Poplar Hill,
a novel by Stephen Ramey Glines
Wilderness House Press, MA 2019
Review by Marcia Ross
Stephen Glines’s novel Poplar Hill takes place in Pictou
County, Nova Scotia. The complex story is
well crafted and up close in delivery: it’s a hoot, a wild ride, and an
exposure of war, and a portrait of love. Kitty, a woman in the last months of her
life, and the central figure in the story, stars in a series of incidents and
conversations that hark back to her youth, which had its own share of incidents
and conversations. It so happens that Kitty had been not quite a ingénue, but a
talented young lady when, in the late 1920s, because of the (unspeakable)
onslaught of the Depression, her family had to sell off houses in Bar Harbor
and New York City, etcetera. Kitty was sent luxuriously off to Germany to study
opera and take advantage of that country’s relaxed financial circumstances. There
she stayed for years, “spending money” in German marks, worthless anywhere
else. It was first class all the way.
But when we meet Kitty at the
beginning of the story, she has been living Nova Scotia for many years in a
house that was perhaps once rather grand. It is the summer of 1994 and she will
wince, and nearly collapse, from an acute angina attack during her own “wake,” a
party she’s arranged for herself, down to the tee. We meet some local folk,
hear Kitty’s dramatic rendition of a Scottish brogue, watch her work a crowd, and
keep her distance from her not-so-amused son visiting from the States. It is
impossible to miss her unflagging spirits, her subtle but formidable will, and
love of attention. This woman in her 80s can seriously party, and not heed the warning
signs of a coronary seizure.
By the end of following chapter,
winter of 1998, we know a good deal about Kitty and her life in Poplar Hill, as
well as of her earlier life in 30s because, now that she’s hooked up to an
oxygen tank and can barely walk, she has a willing and loyal audience. Her
local friend Barb hardly leaves her side, and, by default, we learn about an
American life abroad in intriguing detail.
There are gay and tipsy nights, frustrating attempts at studying, love
interests, a meeting with the ultimate Nazi in Café Heck (he with the high
voice and magnetic eyes). There are breathless train journeys, and parties, and
Kitty’s budding success as an opera singer cut short by the misfortune of
impending war. Glines, who skillfully handles the crowded plot, writes with
affection for his central character, divulging key details of her life and serving
up examples of her sense of humor, and, well, her ample self love. He air-drops
the youthful scenes from Munich into Kitty’s aged rural life with its angina
attacks and desperate gasps for oxygen. But Kitty doesn’t shrink from telling
her story, even with plastic tubes up her nose.
By the middle of the book, it is
true, the reader may struggle to stay abreast of the many incidents, the dual
what-the-heck high life in Munich, Kitty’s noblesse oblige, her sophisticated friends
and accomplishments (she’s an accredited chef!), not to mention whatever
happened to end her marriage. An
eccentric woman of many talents, she is perfect for Glines, a writer of
narrative skill and a remarkable familiarity with two worlds, enveloping both
1930s Nazi history and the everlasting rural Canadian life. Glines’s mandate, I
would bet, is to make the incidents in these disparate worlds convincing, and it’s
accomplished without a hitch, despite the two complex plots— racing or plodding
as they must be—plus the buildup to Kitty’s
impending death. Along the way, it is true, the reader may yearn to know more of
how Nova Scotia looks and feels, what Kitty sees from her kitchen window, how
the weather shapes the ways of country life, why her son James keeps a cool
distance and seems loaded with some resentful baggage. It is a given that Kitty
is more comfortable and free with her friends, especially her Nova Scotian
friends, has a plan up her sleeve, a tendency to boast, and an incurably generous
nature.
It can be challenging to keep track
of Kitty’s friends, not to mention of the evolving gossip and growing dread of late
1930s Europe; several characters are never fleshed out. But Glines understands
that some features of Nova Scotian country life are par for the course: horrendous
snow storms, stuck trucks, downed power lines, savvy timing, and neighbors as
eccentric as the old gal herself. The two stories can strain our focus, swinging
back and forth, present and past, with pop-ups of small town characters and sketches
of chilling Nazis, but Kitty never misses an opportunity to tell her friend Barb
about her past adventures, and Barb is always there.
Glines keeps an admirable track of
time, historical and present, and has an ear for spoken Canadian language, not
to mention a broad appreciation of character. He lets himself go to good effect
when he is loosens the narrative in the Nova Scotia scenes, bringing his own voice
into the fray, noting the smells in the cab of a truck or the mysterious look
of fresh ice on the highway at night. His brief but sharp attention to the
details of local weather and relationships is gratifying. His affection for
places and persons are much in evidence. In the Introduction he states that the
characters and places in the story are real, and the reader doesn’t doubt it.
As Kitty would say, “Splendid altogether.”