Nobody is in a position to review David Frum's new novel, Patriots. You're either going to hate it for all the wrong reasons, or love it for all the wrong reasons. Set in D.C., the novel centres around Walter Schotzke, a likably louche trustafarian who is about to be swallowed whole by the populist right. Sound familiar? If so, it's because it is: Schotzke is no Frum, but there are clearly some autobiographical elements in this novel, thinly-veiled, and ready to deliver carnage to everything the ultra-right holds dear.

Patriotism is defined as a "love of one's country." Nationalism is a more complex thing, referring I suppose to one's nationhood, as distinct from one...

When someone raises a flag on Canada Day, sure, terrific. Bob and Doug forever. When it's time to honour our brave war veterans, no doubt, they're the champs. But when I attend a game to cheer on the local collection of rink-circlers, I don't feel it's a relevant or appropriate place for the anthem.