I’ve Always Felt Sorry for Decimals

In the late 1930s two young boys, whose missionary parents had died among the Zulus in Africa, lived with their aunt and uncle in the curious world of St. John, New Brunswick. Their adventures take them among the odd characters at a camp meeting; to a fantasy of two tough brothers who burn their furniture to make a bathtub full of fudge; to a funeral where they touch the dead man; to their eccentric great-uncle’s with the bearskins on the floor; to their grandmother’s, who raised her axe high to hold off a drunken, knife-wielding neighbor; to a harrowing brush with Catholicism; to a midnight house fire; to the extensive preparations for the day the king and queen visited the city; to tailing dangerous war-time spies; to  a narrow escape from the orphanage.

At times poignant, sometimes profound, usually hilarious, and always delightful, I’ve Always Felt Sorry for Decimals offers a boy’s-eye view of the quirky, human side of Maritime Canada on the eve of the Second World War. Open this book and tumble into the escapades of Hutchinson and Pompman and the cast of mysterious, engaging, blustery, pompous, practical, and heroic characters they meet.