Sleeper Hit

It’s the summer of 1929, and the trip from Montreal to Vancouver is supposed to take just four days. This is “the fastest train across the continent,” the porter Baxter says repeatedly. But as with most journeys, there’s a delay. Four increasingly wearisome days stretch into six eternities.

The plot of The Sleeping Car Porter, Suzette Mayr’s sixth novel, obeys competing temporal and moral laws. Rigorously standardized railway time is indicated directly and corresponds to strict rules of comportment: “9:00 p.m. Baxter sets out his step box, uniform smart, all the gold buttons securely sewn and gleaming.” Reflective spells, on the other hand, interrupt the staccato narration and anticipate a breakdown: “Baxter has travelled this run once before. He’ll come close to truly cracking in half somewhere between Regina and Moose Jaw, the gagging and uneasy stomach from lack of proper...