Reviews From the Edge

Asbestos was once referred to as the “miracle fibre.” It’s used as a binder in cement, as insulation and in anti-fire walls. It’s also a carcinogen with a legacy of death that stretches across the globe. Most of the western world has banned asbestos, including ten European Union Countries. The danger comes when small fibres are released into the air during production and inhaled by laborers. It causes cancerous growths on the lungs as well as a number of other fatal diseases. Until recently, Canada was one of the world’s largest asbestos producers and exporters, behind only Russia. In Jim Williams’s debut novel Rock Reject, winner of the inaugural Beacon Award for Social Justice Literature, he describes the experiences of miners in northern British Columbia at a time when asbestos was a lucrative industry and safety took a back seat to profits.

The novel’s protagonist is Peter, a medical school student from a privileged background. Unable to face the painful reminders of loss, he leaves the tragic death of his young wife behind him in self-exile on the mountaintop mine of Stikine. The mud splattered sign leading into town reads “Home of the World’s Finest Asbestos.” The setting is loosely based on the Cassier mine, about 220 kilometres south of the Yukon boarder. It was there that Jim Williams spent some months during his early twenties working as a laborer.

While the narrative treads some familiar ground and is, at times, too convenient (Peter’s father is a respected physician who specializes in lung diseases) its strengths are in describing the hellish working conditions at the mine. Stikine seems to exist in a bubble outside of time and space, a setting more akin to Cormac McCarthy’s The Road than a modern industrial workplace. The stark images are both revealing and, at times, shocking. Peter works in the aptly named “Rock Reject,” a desolate pit where he shovels split rock and heavy dust onto a conveyor belt. This is Williams’ writing at its most effective, evoking a palpable sense of claustrophobia and dread: “Bare bulbs hung from the ceiling, lighting the dust that floated in the cold air, so think that the view beyond fifty feet was obscured in the haze. Peter felt the back of his throat tighten with each breath he took.”

During orientation, one miner asks if asbestos is unsafe. Shouldn’t they be wearing masks? “We mine Chrysotile asbestos here and it doesn’t harm you,” the supervisor informs him. “Anything can be hazardous to your health if there’s too much of it.” It’s not until one of Peter’s coworkers falls into the maw of a giant stone crusher that company executives rush to the scene to address the union’s concern. This kind of casual disregard for basic safety practices brings to mind other industrial catastrophes like the Westray mine explosion or the sinking of the oil rig Ocean Ranger.   

Recently, the federal and Quebec governments reneged on their promise to spend $50 million to assist in the reopening of two asbestos mines. Those local industries once provided 85 per cent of the world’s supply of asbestos. It’s clear the cause has been abandoned. It is voices like Williams’ protagonist, Peter, which helped hasten its demise. But Rock Reject is not without its faults. The novel turns maudlin in its reliance on the familiar theme of redemption through suffering. The book doesn’t quite inspire empathy for its protagonist, but it does leave the reader with a feeling of dismay that such an industry was, for decades, propped up by public funds. Asbestosis often lingers in the lungs for years without detection; it’s a silent killer. It will be some time before the total human cost to Canada’s workers can be determined.

“Hell on Earth” first appeared on The Toronto Books of Review.