Opinions abound about the publisher’s clearing house extravaganza that is Maclean’s magazine—known to me as “where Paul Wells writes”—and so little surprises me about Canadian magazines these days (what’s that? The Walrus is having trouble paying writers? Is it possible?), that I have just been staying out of it. Really, who cares?
Sorry D.B. Scott, but who really does care? I don’t personally know a single soul (other than you and a few old bosses of mine) who does. My friends talk an awful lot about whether or not the LCBO (Liqour Control Board of Ontario—aka the Canadian arm of the Australian wine industry) should be privatized, but about the life and death struggle to publish a national news-weekly?… not so much.
Then I come across a little nugget on Antonia Zerbisias’ blog informing me that not only is Barbara Amiel staging a return to Big Mac (and thank God too, because I was just wondering what hundred-year-old free-market aristocrats were thinking about Canada today), but that rumour has it the mighty Rebeckler will soon be bringing her powerhouse commentary to Wellington Street in Ottawa.
Oh please, please, please let her write about whether or not her stroller made it through the metal detector on the Hill, and how that made her feel as an ex-party girl discovering maternal feelings.
So, okay, maybe I do care a little bit.