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November 5 is the 120th anniversary of the Last Spike, a great moment in Canadian History, marking the completion of the Canadian Pacific Railroad, which linked the country together from East to West.
So, with the power vested in me as "Events Master," I'm declaring this week, . Despite all of the attention to World Literature these days, especially at OSU, and to literature in English in other cultures, Canadian Literature is almost totally neglected. We read novels and poems by Kenyan, Indian, Polish, and Argentinian writers, but how many have read Canadian writers? I grew up in Canada, so I've read a lot of what up there they call "CanLit," and a lot of it is wonderful, and quite different from what has been written in either England or the United States. For one thing, there is a rich French culture in Quebec, but Canada is generally a very multicultural nation, and a nation that celebrates its multiculturalism. It is not so much a "melting pot" where all cultures blend together, but a "mosaic," where the various cultures fit together harmoniously (more or less) but remain distinctive. Here are some recommendations if you're interested in exploring literature from North of the 49th parallel.
, The Rez Sisters and Dry Lips Oughta Move to Kapuskasing.
Highway is a Native Canadian (Cree and Ojibway) and one of Canada's most exciting playwrights. These plays are challenging, but potentially mind-blowing. He has also written a novel, The Kiss of the Fur Queen.
, The Stone Angel and The Diviners.
There are two Margarets in the CanLit pantheon. Margaret Atwood is the better known (The Handmaid's Tale, The Edible Woman, etc.), but for my money, Margaret Laurence is the better writer. The Stone Angel is the best book I've read about the difficulties of a strong intelligent person growing old, and both books are superb novels by and about women. Highly recommended!
, Coming Through Slaughter, In the Skin of a Lion, The English Patient, Anil's Ghost. Ondaatje was born in Sri Lanka, but has lived in Toronto for ages. I confess I've read only The English Patient, but it's a fascinating book (more interesting than the movie) that explores questions of human identity, history, and the dependence of both on the written word. Coming Through Slaughter is about the life of Buddy Bolden, one of the first great Jazz musicians. Ondaatje has also published several volumes of poetry.
. Canada is now a major film producer, and Toronto and Vancouver vie for the title of "Hollywood North." David Cronenberg is a very interesting (sometimes weird) director. His latest film, A History of Violence (starring Viggo Mortensen), is provocative and powerful. Another innovative director is Atom Egoyan. Check out his The Sweet Hereafter or Ararat. For a French Canadian filmmaker, you should definitely look at Denys Arcand. His Jesus of Montreal is brilliant, and his recent film, The Barbarian Invasions is intense and moving.
. Canada also has its share of great poets. I've included a couple of poems here that I like, but here are some links that will take you to more.
The League of Canadian Poets
http://www.poets.ca/linktext/links/links9.htm
Jeffrey Donaldson, "Feddy Doe"
P.K. Page "This Heavy Craft"
Earle Birney, "The Hazel Bough"
E.J. Pratt, "The Prize Cat"
Margaret Avison, "The Dumbfounding"
Ted getting shabby--
skull beneath the skin?
No, but as matting,
bare patches, begin,
nameless maimed baby
peers out from within.
Once it was Tadwit,
now merely It:
old links with You and Him
no longer fit:
the melting snowman's slide,
leaving just grit?
Poor ted? no--frightening,
way it seems now:
angel that shielded me
gone soft like dough:
now to that damaged thing
what do I owe?
Something in both of us
never got born:
too late to hack it out,
or to unlearn
needed, familiar pain.
Come, little thorn.
Adam stood by a sleeping lion
Feeling its fur with his toes.
He did not hear Eve approaching,
Like a shy fawn she crept close.
The stillness deepened. He turned.
She stood there, too solemn for speech.
He knew that something had happened
Or she never would stay out of reach.
"What is it? What have you found?"
He stared as she held out her hand.
The innocent fruit was shining.
The truth burned like a brand.
"It is good to eat," she said,
"And pleasant to the eyes,
And -- this is the reason I took it --
It is going to make us wise!"
She was like that, the beauty,
Always simple and strong.
She was leading him into trouble
But he could not say she was wrong. |
Anyway, what could he do?
She'd already eaten it first.
She could not have all the wisdom.
He'd have to eat and be cursed.
So he ate, and their eyes were opened.
In a flash they knew they were nude.
Their ignorant innocence vanished.
Taste began shaping the crude.
This was no Fall, but Creation,
For although the Terrible Voice,
Condemned them to sweat and to labor,
They had conquered the power of choice.
Even God was astonished.
"This man is become on of Us.
If he eat of the Tree of Life - - - !"
Out they went in a rush.
As the Flaming Sword receded
Eve walked a little ahead.
"If we keep on using this knowledge
I think we'll be back," she said.
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