Douglas Coupland's Vancouver

My Vancouver.

A few days ago I wandered into the Book Warehouse looking for cards, and walked out with a piece of home. Doug Coupland has followed up his Souvenirs of Canada with a sequel and a similar book about home. My home, and his home. Never have my own sentiments been so eloquently echoed in writing, and frankly I can imagine him laughing his ass off as the money rolls in. I could have sat down to write this book and finished in a day, he probably did the same. It is stunning and beautiful and true. I cannot express this in words, which is why, I suppose, he is the author and I am not.

The past two days have been spent feverishly reading his A-Z of my city. Yesterday on the bus, I was so close to tears that I had to stop. Today on the bus this happened again. He writes Vancouver the way we see it from the inside, and there is no pretension, the good is with the bad (but its a given that there is not much bad around).

Please go out and read it, proper Vancouverites will be moved to tears. Here is one of my favourite passages:

"I want you to imagine you are driving north, across the Lions Gate Bridge, and the sky is steely grey and the sugar-dusted mountains loom blackly in the distance. Imagine what lies behind those mountains - realize that there are only more mountains - mountains until the North Pole, mountains until the end of the world, mountains taller than a thousands me's, mountains taller than a thousand you's.
Here is where civilization ends; here is where time ends and where eternity begins. Here is what Lions Gate Bridge is: one last grand gesture of beauty, of charm, and of grace before we enter the hinterlands, before the air becomes too brittle and too cold to breathe, before we enter that place where life becomes harsh, where we must become animals in order to survive."

Thanks Doug.