Maclean’s has been writing about this country’s most famous and important personalities for more than a century. This collection of stories looks back at intimate portraits of past prime ministers and their wives as they navigated Canada’s place in the world. Rewind to John Diefenbaker’s time at centre stage with his wife and political co-star, Olive Evangeline Diefenbaker, in 1957, or to a 1994 Maclean’s cover story on Aline Chrétien, who shunned publicity but had long served as her husband’s most trusted adviser. Former senior editor David Cobb reveals Margaret Trudeau as an endearing free spirit on the road to 24 Sussex, whether she was a political punch line or a paparazzi fixture.
Like any industry, writing and research require serious quality control measures and we consider that our biggest task. There are several mechanism that we have adopted over the years that help us meet all our guarantees on quality and deadlines. Every paper typed by our writers is electronically scanned by a plagiarism detection utility and later manually reviewed by a trusted editor who is likely to spot plagiarized content. Yet, the most effective tool is the thorough examination that every one of our writers had to go through at the hiring stage. There have been numerous cases of cheating on our entrance-tests and dishonest writers who cheated there would eventually cheat on the job. The end result of that war on plagiarism looks promising: Every one of our client is guaranteed 100% authentic non-plagiarized writing (money back guarantee).
To begin with it has nothing to do with archaism, with the salvaging of obsolete words and turns of speech, or with the setting up of a ‘standard English’ which must never be departed from. On the contrary, it is especially concerned with the scrapping of every word or idiom which has outworn its usefulness. It has nothing to do with correct grammar and syntax, which are of no importance so long as one makes one's meaning clear, or with the avoidance of Americanisms, or with having what is called a ‘good prose style’. On the other hand, it is not concerned with fake simplicity and the attempt to make written English colloquial. Nor does it even imply in every case preferring the Saxon word to the Latin one, though it does imply using the fewest and shortest words that will cover one's meaning. What is above all needed is to let the meaning choose the word, and not the other way around. In prose, the worst thing one can do with words is surrender to them. When you think of a concrete object, you think wordlessly, and then, if you want to describe the thing you have been visualising you probably hunt about until you find the exact words that seem to fit it. When you think of something abstract you are more inclined to use words from the start, and unless you make a conscious effort to prevent it, the existing dialect will come rushing in and do the job for you, at the expense of blurring or even changing your meaning. Probably it is better to put off using words as long as possible and get one's meaning as clear as one can through pictures and sensations. Afterward one can choose — not simply accept — the phrases that will best cover the meaning, and then switch round and decide what impressions one's words are likely to make on another person. This last effort of the mind cuts out all stale or mixed images, all prefabricated phrases, needless repetitions, and humbug and vagueness generally. But one can often be in doubt about the effect of a word or a phrase, and one needs rules that one can rely on when instinct fails. I think the following rules will cover most cases: