Happy Canada Day everybody. Despite that no-good low-down murdering rat Henry VII.
No, really. Thanks to Robert Fulford’s The Triumph of Narrative, I’ve been pondering Canada’s story for the last year. And now I’m grinding my teeth because I finally read Josephine Tey’s 1951 The Daughter of Time, in which a bedridden policeman investigates whether England’s vilified King Richard III really murdered his nephews, and concludes it was an outrageous Tudor frame-up abetted by Will Shakespeare.
It matters because Canada’s story includes Britain’s long struggle for liberty. If we even have a story any more. Trendy post-moderns deny the very possibility of coherent narratives. But as Mr. Fulford says, woe betide the individual or the nation that loses the thread of its own. I fear we have. Continue Reading →
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