Into the D/ark

Into the D/ark
by David Elias
Published by Radiant Press
Review by Shelley A. Leedahl
$22.00 ISBN 9781998926381

Into the D/ark is the dream-like and aptly-titled new novel by veteran Winnipeg writer David Elias, as all is not well for blacksmith/artist Clarence; his wife, Rose; and their fire-disfigured sons in rural Manitoba circa 1963. Indeed, Rose’s best friend, Martha—who inadvertently photographs JFK’s assassination while on holiday—and her fanatical, ark-building brother, Abe, are also battling demons. Like the snow-whipped landscape, the characters are driven toward a frenzy with their disparate obsessions: Rose’s love of women’s magazines; her self-exiled sons’ non-stop watching of American TV programs (their panacea in the rough shack they’ve named “Bachelor’s Paradise);” Martha’s black and white photography, and her secret love for Rose; Abe’s ark project; and Clarence’s shift from welding farm implements to creating nonsensical metal monsters.

The key to this original book’s success is manyfold. Firstly, the distinct characterizations and the author’s ability to credibly portray madness are remarkable: an entire, almost fantastical chapter is dedicated to Clarence’s unravelling, which coincides with the removal of his welding mask:

… he now bathed in glorious unending light, all because he kept

his naked eyes fixed on the dazzling blaze of metallic fusion, never

looking away, never yielding, until he’d noticed the fiery sphere where

the welding rod met the steel grow and widen, brighten, intensify, until

it expanded to fill the entire room and left him standing in a sea of pure

white.

If this sounds Rapturous, it’s deliberate. This is Mennonite country. Clarence’s fervour among his “phalanx of iron creatures” takes on a quasi-religious tone, and it’s akin to scripture-quoting Abe’s passion for his ark. These are creation stories of a strange kind. Both men are “Not eating. Not sleeping or bathing. Wearing [the] same clothes day in and day out.” Clarence is regularly “embroiled in the maelstrom of a wildly complex idea that buzzed his brain like a crazed moth,” and “a cocktail of toxic chemicals” is “slowly poisoning” him.

There’s heavy use of symbolism, ie: the image of “Tiny droplets of mist” is reimagined throughout the novel as sparks, snow, ashes, and the spray of blood on Jacqueline Kennedy’s pink pillbox hat. The “shiny” stool in Clarence’s shop echoes the boys’ burned skin; JFK’s “thick, shiny hair” the moment before he was shot; and the First Lady crawling across the car’s “shiny black surface” in the moment after.

Elias masters both sweet scenes (Rose milking a cow; Rose rubbing lanolin into her sons’ ruined skin) and the macabre—the blacksmith shop’s explosion that “[liquefied] the skin on her boys’ hands and faces,” and the Kennedy assassination, in close-up.

Elias also addresses the “self-imposed exile” of men, and Martha infers that “All that conspicuous absence and suffering was really a gesture. A feeble attempt at some kind of heroism.” Human connections, community—these render a person healthy and whole.

From the bright flame of the welding torch to the darkness of human nature, this brilliant novel contains it all. Its unforgettable climactic scene is something you must discover for yourself.

THIS BOOK IS AVAILABLE AT YOUR LOCAL BOOKSTORE OR FROM WWW.SKBOOKS.COM