This is a question that has plagued me for some time now—at least since lunch. After all, this is the man who distinguished himself in 1991 by becoming the only Canadian ever to be arrested for selling his writing.
I first heard about Mr. Kilodney way back in my freshman year (1982) when a review appeared in one of U. of T.’s innumerable newspapers, The Varsity. It was a review of his latest literary oeuvre, The Sex Slaves of the Astro Mutants. Unfortunately, I never procured a copy, as the only way to do so was to bump into him on a street corner and ask to buy one from him, and I never managed to do so until after the unimaginably successful work had already been devoured by the rapacious Toronto literary scene. Ah me!
But it wasn’t long before I got to read something by Kilodney. His name caught my eye as I was thumbing through the letters to the editor in The Toronto Star. He was writing to thank the gracious Toronto public for standing by and doing nothing while a gang of thugs beat him up and stole his money. (I don’t think they took any of his books.)
My next great discovery in the archeology of Crad Kilodney occurred purely by chance. I was browsing through Robarts Library when I stumbled upon another Kilodney title, and I hadn’t even looked up the call number! When you recall that Robarts Library is one of the largest libraries in the world, the chances of randomly pulling Lightning Struck My Dick off the shelf are astronomical. Clearly, Mr. Kilodney and I were destined to meet.
But the time was not yet ripe for our meeting. I remember that a couple of other things happened first. In the summer after my first year of university, I was walking on the north side of Bloor Street, across from the Royal Conservatory of Music, when I chanced upon Ajay Heble leaning against a wall and selling The Burger Joint Was Closed. Naturally, I purchased a copy, which I still treasure, because Ajay and I had gone to the same high school and we both played the piano. Also, there used to be a W.H. Smith near the corner of Bloor & Yonge where I found a copy of Pork College, another Kilodney masterpiece. After reading this, I knew I had to meet the author.
Our first encounter came shortly thereafter, on a street corner somewhere downtown. In my mind, I can still smell the fumes. If my expectations were a balloon, then Kilodney was its needle. He was selling The Terminal Ward, and so I purchased a copy, a heart-warming tale of a dying man and an incredibly accommodating nurse. Its sheer humanity left me thirsting for more.
In rapid succession, I bought up all his major titles. Besides, I had read that a signed copy of Sex Slaves of the Astro Mutants had recently been sold to an antiquarian book seller for $12.00—a 300% markup. Even if the books were crap, I could still sell them at a profit. It was like an investment, like playing the futures market. So I bought them all. There was Cathy, and The Orange Book, Blood-Sucking Monkeys From North Tonawanda, Worst Canadian Stories, Nice Stories For Canadians, Bang Heads Here Suffering Bastards!, Malignant Humors, and Girl On The Subway.
Note: Kilodney has never won a Giller prize. I don’t think anyone has even ever offered to buy him a cup of coffee.
And so, this morning, I was wondering if Crad Kilodney had killed himself yet—as that struck me as the most likely cause of death, or at least most plausible in his case. Also, his death would significantly increase the value of all my first editions, especially the ones autographed with such pieces of wisdom as, “Good news, God is fungus!”
To my utter dismay, Kilodney lives. Or at least he has a website where his caustic personality continues to corrode all that is true and good about Toronto. In design terms, it ain’t much to look at. But I particularly like his Canadian Dickhead of the Year contest. Although he claims it is an annual event, he only ran it in 2003. Too bad. Especially when there seems to be such fierce competition. Also interesting is his new interest in the mining industry as evidenced by his signature contributions to the Prospectors & Developers Association of Canada Convention. You may also wish to read about how Ralph Nader barbequed his puppy.
Update: Crad Kilodney died of cancer on April 14, 2014. You can learn more about his body of work through the Crad Kilodney Literary Foundation.