In the time between the turn of the century and the start of World War II, a wave of modernization swept over Canada’s retailers. Chains like Eaton’s and Simpson’s brought cutthroat competition to the marketplace, and they struck fear into the hearts of independent shopkeepers. In panicked response, the retail class formed xenophobic, hate-fuelled merchants’ associations and began electing batty political forces like Social Credit. Or at least that’s what historians have said so far.

In Store Wars, David Monod sets out to set the record straight. The story, he writes, just wasn’t that simple; the chains didn’t destroy small merchants, and there never was any such thing as the “merchant class.” Some independents had trouble, but many adapted beautifully to the changing marketplace. And the troublesome political movements? Well, they were around, certainly, and many merchants’ groups supported them. But it’s unfair, Monod argues, to lump all retailers in with the bigots and the puritans. Shopkeepers were a diverse lot; on almost any level that matters – race, income, religion, business habits – they differed wildly from each other. It’s irresponsible, then, to think that retailers behaved like a homogenous class. In short, historians haven’t been nearly subtle enough in their approaches to early 20th-century retailing culture. In his introduction, Monod takes those historians to task, declaring that his book will shed much-needed light on the previously ignored complexities and diversities of the subject.

Point taken. And for a while, Monod writes with the clear, dry wit of a scholar in love with his studies. But every few pages, the anecdotes and illustrations dry up, and the life goes out of the book while Monod points out that this or that aspect of early-century retail life has so far been a) ignored by historians, or b) misinterpreted by historians. It’s a jarring, boring habit, and it takes the vigour out of Monod’s carefully researched and reasoned arguments.

At the start of chapter six, the book’s problem with defensiveness comes into sharp focus. Monod writes that “retail activism… has, for many interpreters, posed hardly a problem at all.” He goes on to argue very convincingly that, yes, retail activism was a subtle, complex thing. But the pokes at previous histories feel out of place. It’s as if, under the obtuse language of historical theory, Monod is simply saying: no one’s yet written about this, but it’s a fascinating, important subject. It’s worth pursuing, and I intend to do so. If he had put it as simply as that, dropped the pervasive defensiveness, and got on with his study, Store Wars would have been closer to the engaging, surprising piece of solid scholarship it nearly is.