The Sapling by Marc Bendavid

Marc Bendavid, an accomplished actor of stage and screen, makes his writing debut with a novel, The Sapling, the story of a young boy named Marc, and the art teacher whose appreciation of the aesthetic life inspired him to embark upon a creative path. Bendavid demonstrates an ability to weave elegant sentences into a fast-paced narrative that spans decades. The story is told as though in a letter written directly to the teacher, Klara Bloem, describing memories as though looking through a shoebox of Polaroid photos. 

The Sapling is an exciting early draft of a novel teeming with potential. Unfortunately, it feels as though it was published prematurely. A sapling not given the chance to mature. It is as though Bendavid takes us on a tour around the perimeter of a forest, pointing deep within it without actually taking us in. We get an impression of the forest, learn some insights about its layout and the trees growing there. But we don’t see the inner workings, we don’t experience the texture of the bark on the tree trunks or hear which birds might be singing among the branches. 

The shortcomings of this book are a result of the form. Had the word “memoir” appeared on the cover, rather than “a novel,” this would be a different review. A memoir is not expected to give the reader a deeper look at the characters standing on the periphery, it’s not expected to wring out every last drop of drama and tension from a given situation. The Sapling is full of unexplored potential, but it seems the author was unwilling to create anything out of that potential as it would deviate too far from his memory of events. Bendavid rarely steps back to describe the characters for those of us seeing them the first time, he doesn’t probe their actions and intentions for more than what exists in his memory. 

Books considered “semi-autobiographical” or “autofiction” are inherently limited by the authors willingness to push characters and circumstances beyond what they were in real life. Often, family, or in this case, a beloved teacher, can become almost sacred to the writer. They become a butterfly under glass, pinned in place. The mess, the mistakes, the ugliness inside all of us doesn’t make it to the surface. The resulting depiction is pristine, suffused with the author’s love and admiration, which cannot be shared by the reader as we have not experienced what the author has. 

The Sapling is filled with ripe moments that beg to be picked from the branch, yet are left hanging. Marc’s realization that he is not like the other boys, the dissolution of his own parents’ marriage and that of Klara’s, his father’s sudden departure to Tel Aviv. Even in his relationship with Klara’s children, we don’t have many instances to see them interact, we are told, not shown. What must that tension have been like? Did they resent the boy monopolizing so much of their mother’s time and attention?

Bendavid is clearly talented. He constructs beautiful sentences and skillfully conveys his love for an art teacher that changed the course of his whole life. For all that is left unexplored, Bendavid succeeds in depicting a meaningful friendship. A future book, without the forced perspective of sentimentality, will undoubtedly solidify Bendavid as a presence in Canadian fiction. Like a sapling, he needs to grow, to expand and mature, so that his talent can reach its full potential.

Jeff Dupuis

Website

Jeff Dupuis is a writer and editor living in Toronto. He is the author of The Creature X Mystery novels and numerous short stories, which have been published in The Ex-Puritan and The Temz Review among others. Jeff is the editor, alongside A.G. Pasquella, of the anthology Devouring Tomorrow: Fiction from the Future of Food, which will be published in 2025 by Dundurn Press.