Broken Scarecrows is the third book in D. R. Cameron’s satirical fiction series exploring regulatory bodies and whistleblowers.

The series begins with Dysfunctional Regulatory Bodies: Scarecrows and Stupidity, where readers are introduced to BruceG, a man locked in battle with regulatory bodies. The conflict escalates in book two, Dysfunctional Regulatory Bodies: Cowpies and Lies, as BruceG takes on the environment ministry (Ministry of GoodforAll.) By the time you dive into Broken Scarecrows, the regulatory system is almost entirely broken – and it’s time to start fixing things.

In this third book, BruceG clashes with the LOG (League of Growers) and the LOP (League of Prosecutors) after whistleblowing on questionable bylaws passed by council. While the story builds on earlier events, new readers to the author’s work don’t need to worry about jumping in here. Cameron includes a detailed preface summarizing the first two books, along with appendices at the back that provide even more background. Even though I read the first two installments, I found these sections helpful as a refresher.

Given the large cast of characters in Broken Scarecrows, Cameron thoughtfully provides a list of main characters near the front of the book. I found this especially useful for keeping track of who is who and what role they played. There’s also an extensive glossary of professional designations and acronyms. While the list may look intimidating at first, it quickly becomes manageable once you’re immersed in the story. Acronyms like DO (disciplinary order), LOD (League of Dentists), LOPT (League of Psychotherapists), and the memorably named FART (finding acceptable remediation techniques) add to the book’s satirical edge.

One strength from the first two books carries into this third installment – the layout. Instead of page after page of lengthy paragraphs, you’ll find different sections with highlighted bits, lists, and bullet points. The chapters in general aren’t overly long. It makes for a pleasing reading experience.

Before penning the Scarecrow series, Cameron was involved in his local professional regulatory body. That firsthand understanding of government processes lends authenticity to the satire. Us readers benefit from the depth and specificity of his experience. It’ll be interesting to see what he writes about next.

Fans of satirical fiction – and anyone who has ever shaken their head at the strange mechanics of government regulation – will find plenty to appreciate in Broken Scarecrows: Deceit and Cheat. Quirky, smart, and quietly biting, this third installment leaves you pondering how systems meant to protect can lose their way.

I grew up in small-town Saskatchewan and thus am familiar with folks who congregate daily at “coffee row” to remember the good old days, tell amusing stories, share gossip and passionately discuss current events. I continually thought about coffee row while reading Swift Current-area writer Doug Cameron’s memoir, My Tarzan Tree and Other Farm Boy Memories.

This 1945-born author is obviously a storyteller at heart, but more than that, he’s done what many people talk about doing—writing a book about their life—but few accomplish. Cameron’s light and informal tone; the emphasis on his rural upbringing (near Alcomdale, Alberta); and rambling reminiscences of boyhood escapades with eight siblings, cousins, and friends reads like coffee row conversation: I could even imagine Cameron’s coffee mates nodding in recognition as they stirred another spoonful of sugar into their coffee cups. 

Cameron, who had a significant career in agricultural science (he was employed at Ottawa’s Agriculture Canada Research Station, and worked globally), has culled his varied childhood experiences into an easy and pleasurable read. He says that he’s “always wanted to write about [his] boyhood days as a toddler to a teen growing up on [their] farm,” and now that he’s “getting long in the tooth,” it was time to do it. The fact that he “loved writing this book,” shines through the short chapters, which include occasional black and white illustrations and maps. 

The nearly 300-page book begins with the author’s earliest childhood memories, ie: playing with toy soldiers, and slowly becoming aware that he lived on a farm, complete with dogs and “oodles of elusive cats,” chickens, cows, horses, pigs and turkeys. This was back when chamber pots were in use, teachers gave students “the strap,” and everyone bathed in a galvanized steel tub on Saturday night. For Cameron, money was earned by picking bottles and picking rocks: the kids’ father paid a penny “for a pail and ten cents for a pile.” In those days, ten cents could buy a “box of Cracker Jack popcorn (with a prize inside), one large O’Henry chocolate bar, five licorice pipes, or, best of all, 30 jaw breakers.” Several food memories are shared, from church picnics and fall threshing meals to pilfered apples: “—there is nothing like the taste of stolen apples,” Cameron writes. He goes into detail about the type of candy cane in his Christmas stocking (“There would always be one peppermint candy cane with the barber pole stripes of red and white. Sometimes green got in the mix.”), and describes his first vanilla milkshake so well, it made me long for one. 

Cameron presents a rosy picture of his childhood within a large rural family, including a home life filled with chores; church and community activities; school days; hobbies and sports. “We didn’t go hungry,” he writes, “and there was lots of love.” 

Readers, if you recall playing “Kick the Can,” skating on sloughs, and making cattail torches, you’ll probably see some of your history in these merry personal tales.

THIS BOOK IS AVAILABLE AT YOUR LOCAL BOOKSTORE OR FROM WWW.SKBOOKS.COM