“I, Peter Baker, known as the Arctic Arab, came from Lebanon during the Turkish conquest,” begins this 1976 memoir.
I had developed the idea, independent of this book, that this screed, which has been denounced repeatedly since it was first published in 2008, might actually contain some merit that had been buried in poor rhetoric and politics. Wrong.
A concise, charming book that definitively documents ‘Yellowknife’s defining neighbourhood.’
Armchair adventure at its finest.
Earnest memoir recounts minute details of a fascinating life, bureaucratic tussles included.
‘Because I was an orphan and a poor one at that, my mind was always alert to the happenings around me. Once my eyes had seen something, it was never forgotten.’
Ah, here it is. The book about the Yellowknife Yellowknifers love to live in.
I’ve become something of a scholar of novels written by people who’ve spent time in the Arctic. Not recommending this one.
This book is so spare, it’s nearly impossible to get through without wanting to read between the lines.
Whoa! This book isn’t just about alcoholism: it’s about promiscuity, and the forces that drive it, and that’s something we just don’t talk about.