The artisans who sell their products at market shows here are a triumph of hope, and the customers remind us that neighbourliness is possible.
Selling books at an artisan show, as I did at Lansdowne Park for four days last week, offers a generous amount of time for reflection and observation of the passing parade of humanity.
Book sales come in clusters, as if readers are driven by some kind of shared internal clock. A spurt of explaining what my two mystery series are about is almost inevitably followed by a lull. It’s a great opportunity to study the range of people who make up our city.
Over the four days, I saw thousands of people out having a good time, relaxing and getting along. The picture was one of reassuring normality. There was no evidence of any tension or negativity. It was a useful reminder that the world as it actually is and the world depicted in social media are two very different places.
Over the four days, I saw thousands of people out having a good time, relaxing and getting along. The picture was one of reassuring normality.
For those who spend too much time on the social media platform X and not enough out of the house, the world can be seen as a horrible, polarized place, full of hate and danger. Even in the mainstream media, we talk incessantly about food insecurity, the drug overdose crisis, the mental health crisis, the homelessness crisis and the climate crisis. The list is so long that the term “polycrisis” is now used to cover all that, and more.
Not to say that these are not real issues, but it’s sometimes easy to forget that normal life goes on. People still want a new sweater, a pair of earrings or even a mystery novel.
The artisans who sell their products at these kinds of shows are themselves a triumph of hope. By combining their artistic skills and their entrepreneurial spirit, they believe they can carve out a new business, or at least a profitable side gig. It’s not the easiest way to make money, but creating something that others buy and enjoy is deeply satisfying.
For me, the conversations with repeat readers make such events worthwhile. To talk with someone about a fictional world that you have created, and they now share, is an unusual experience. They often surprise me with their detailed knowledge of my books. (For example, an Ottawa homicide investigator called Mike Reilly was a secondary character in one of my early books. He’s now the main character in two new books and I wondered if readers would remember him. Apparently, they do.)
In a world where people supposedly have an attention span best measured in seconds, it’s good to know that there are still plenty of people who will spend hours consuming a book, and pay money to do so.
Lansdowne Park itself is an important part of Ottawa’s social and cultural fabric. Spending time in the Aberdeen Pavilion on a sunny fall weekend, it’s difficult not to be impressed by the 1898 building, one of the last remnants of our 19th-century architectural heritage. It’s airy and full of light, if also decrepit and full of squirrels. A major renovation is expected to start next year.
Complaining about every detail of Lansdowne is a bit of a cottage industry in this town, but walk around it on a nice day, see people attending events and sitting outside at restaurant patios, and you have to ask, what’s the problem? Lansdowne Is a sports and entertainment focal point that most neighbourhoods would love to have.
Here’s the conclusion of my shocking news report for today: life is often better than we’ve been told.