According to CBC’s Chris Boyce, the goal of this weekend’s CBCMusic.ca Festival is twofold. First and foremost, the CBC wants to celebrate Canadian music. Second, it wants to celebrate CBC Music, the broadcaster’s online music service, which launched a little over a year ago.

In 1996, Theatre Columbus premiered playwright Michael O’Brien’s “freely adapted” take on the famous Beaumarchais play The Barber of Seville, which was written in 1775. O’Brien’s version mixed in music from the 1816 opera of the same name by Gioachino Rossini, as well as original tunes by composer John Millard. The adaptation also propelled the story forward a couple centuries, with pop culture references galore. With Theatre Columbus co-founder Leah Cherniak at the helm, the musical ended the season with six Dora Award nominations (it won three) and plenty of critical acclaim.

Seventeen years later, Soulpepper Theatre is remounting this zany reimagination of The Barber of Seville, updated once again by O’Brien, Millard, and Cherniak. But, for some reason—the change in decade, or company, or sense of humour—whatever had made the original so magical, has faded, save for a few key performances.

The Book
Ambrose Zephyr is a middle-aged man who lives a simple, quiet life with his wife, Zipper. He owns two suits, lives in a house full of books, and collects watches.
Ambrose Zephyr learns he is dying. The doctor informs him he has a month to live, maybe less. With Zipper at his side, Ambrose embarks on a frantic trip across Europe and Northern Africa, trying to visit all the places he’s longed to see and the places he loves before he dies.
Their journey brings the couple to the museums of Amsterdam, the cafes of Berlin, the grand cathedral of Chartres, among other places. Ambrose is single-minded in his goal to reach the end of the alphabet; Zipper tries to reconcile supporting her husband with trying not to breakdown. I’ll leave it to you to discover if they make it to Z.
Though the novel starts out as Ambrose’s story, the focus gradually shifts as the book progresses. Zipper is the more interesting character, anyhow. She is dealing with the impending death of her husband while trying to – for his sake – remain brave.
The language of the book is simple; of recent Can Lit, it often reminded me of Sheila Heti’s The Middle Stories. Richardson isn’t trying to do too much here, which is one of the novel’s strengths. The book is less than 140 pages – the word count is probably that of a novella – but it has the weight of a 400-page novel. The ending resonates long after you’ve reached the last letter.
The Interview
Torontoist: You’ve been a book designer for twenty years. Why did you decide to make the switch from designer to writer, or have you been writing all along?
CS Richardson: The switch was gradual. I’ve worked with words and writing and writers for most of my professional life, so I have no doubt a certain measure of osmosis occurred. Also, I was looking for a new creative challenge within the book field, and so began writing seriously about eight years ago.
What has made you choose book design as a profession, and what’s changed in the field over the course of your career?
The love of books, not just as entertainment but also as objects. There’s nothing quite like the tactile sensation of holding a well-crafted book in your hands. The only thing that’s changed – but its been a BIG change – is technology. The use – and sometime abuse – of computers has increased the speed of the creative process, but all else with that process – the need for a clever idea, a sound knowledge of basic design/type principles, an empathy with the content – hasn’t changed at all. Nor should it.
Book designers are getting more and more acclaim these days – Chip Kidd, for example. Who are some of your favourite designers?
In Canada: Peter Cocking, Ingrid Paulson. In the US: Carol Carson, Gabrielle Wilson. In the UK: David Pearson, Angus Hyland.
Over the past decade there’s been talk of the e-book replacing books. It hasn’t happened. I interviewed (founder of Coach House Press) Stan Bevington a little more than a year ago, and he said “the physical object of books, we’re stuck with them”. Do you ever envision a time when books are replaced?
Replaced? Not entirely. I think non-fiction publishing will increasingly become an electronic exercise. Fiction and belles lettres will remain, I’d like to think forever, as books. I once heard an adage regarding e-books: they are a solution to a problem that doesn’t exist. A book is as pure an invention for the transference of information as possible and has been that way for 500 years…anyone, anywhere, at any level of societal progress, can use it. No wires, no power, no satellites, no re-boots required. Just a pair of hands and sometimes a pocket in your pants.
How did you find the transition from book designer to novelist? From creating the physical object to creating what goes inside on the pages?
An extraordinary education, and the hardest, most fulfilling thing I’ve ever done. Designing books is a collaborative process, and design is always driven by someone else’s initial creativity – ie. the author’s. There are many hands involved. Writing is a solo effort – at least initially. Creatively an author is on their own. Its an exhilarating walk along the tightrope.
Where did you get the idea for the novel?
A twist on the basic question: “what would you do if?” In this instance, it wasn’t “win a million dollars,” but rather a 30-day death sentence. How would someone – like Ambrose – want to go out? What would they do? How far would they go to fill out their remaining days?
The novel is very concerned with the idea of home. So, what does home mean to you?
Home is safety. Home is non-judgemental. Home is love – certainly for Ambrose and Zipper.
Did you visit every place that Ambrose and Zipper go to?
London and Paris I have been to many times – and love. Chartres I have visited. But regrettably I have never set foot in the novel’s other locales. With any luck, that will someday change. Like Ambrose, I’ve always wanted to see the Pyramids.
I read that you’re working on your second novel. Care to tell us a little about it?
At the risk of breaking the literary law which states that talking about a novel-in-progress is bad luck, the only thing I will tell you is that it deals with imagination. And the protagonist is a man who cannot read.
Photo of CS Richardson by David Hillis