Thursday, October 31, 2019

PARKING THE MOOSE :: Dave Hill

A version of this review previously appeared in Shelf Awareness and is republished here with permission.

Billed as "the greatest Canada-based literary thrill ride of your lifetime," comedian and radio host Dave Hill's Parking the Moose does not disappoint. Hill, from Cleveland, Ohio, was convinced early on by his Ontario-born grandfather that Canada was a far superior country. Tossing aside the ingrained ideology of the U.S. as the "greatest nation on Earth," Hill became obsessed with Canada. Hockey was his only sport, he eschewed bacon for the "far more delicious" Canadian variety and "whenever the subject of health care was brought up, [he] was more vocal about the vast merits of the Canadian system than perhaps any other nine-year-old you'd ever want to meet."

His passion for our northern neighbor waned following his grandfather's death, but as Hill (Dave Hill Doesn't Live Here Anymore) barreled into middle age, he felt a yearning to learn more about the man and his national pride. Over the next year and a half, Hill and various pals (some he met via social media or podcasts and was mostly convinced were not serial killers) visited cities from coast to coast to determine just what was so special about Canada.

Hill constructs his work as a loose travelogue, a tongue-in-cheek narrative steeped in humor. In this love story to his Canadian weaknesses--poutine, heavy metal and knickknacks--Hill seeks genuine connection and understanding. The result is a laugh-out-loud view of the differences between neighbors and the obvious merits of people who are kind, gentle and still imperfect. Though Canadian multitudes cannot be contained in a "mere book," readers will fall for the country that Hill's grandfather "simply wouldn't shut up about."


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About Malcolm Avenue Review

I was lucky enough to be born and raised in a nifty, oak-shaded ranch house on Malcolm Avenue, a wide-laned residential street with little through traffic, located amid the foothills of Northern California. It was on that street and in that house I learned most of my adolescent life lessons, and many grown-up ones to boot. Malcolm Avenue was "home" for more than thirty years.

It was on Malcolm Avenue, through and with my family and the other families that made up our neighborhood of characters, that I first learned about and gained an appreciation for the things I continue to love the most to this day: music, animals, photography, sports, television/movies and, of course, books.

I owe a debt of gratitude to that life on Malcolm Avenue. It gave me a sense of community and friendship, support and adventure. For better and worse, life on that street likely had the biggest impact on the person I've become. So this blog, and the things I write here, are all, at their base level, a little bit of a love letter to Malcolm Avenue.

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