The Canadian Book Challenge was one of the first community reading events/challenges that I joined online. For ten years it was hosted by The Book Mine Set, then The Indextrious Reader hosted for the past two years and, now, the baton has been passed to Canadian Bookworm, who will host the challenge from July 1, 2019 through June 30, 2020.
When all his hard work was behind him, to celebrate his decade of hosting, The Book Mine Set awarded a stack of books by Canadian and indigenous authors, one book to represent each region of the country, to a random recipient – me!
Most of the books were donated by the acclaimed poetry press, Brick Books, with a couple of additions from John, to represent Nunavut and the Northwest Territories (his home turf). In the summer of 2017, these books arrived and I literally had to clear a shelf for them. What a delightful “problem” to have!
Since then, I have been reading them (all but two of the authors were new-to-me), enjoying the sense of moving across the land, on the page. Along the way, I’ve been making some notes, which I’m pleased to share here, beginning with the novel and children’s book that John selected personally and, then, touring through the selection of Brick Books’ volumes of poetry.
Witness my clumsy arrangement, with blankets and sheets bunched up and lined up to represent Vancouver Island to the west, the southern geographic border with the United States, and a sliver of the northern lights above.
Inhabit Media is “an independent publishing company with a mandate to preserve and promote Inuit and Northern culture through the telling of Arctic legends, myths and adventures”. (This article is an excellent introduction to their early publications and mandate.) Sweetest Kulu is a picture book, written by Inuit throat singer Celina Kalluk and illustrated by Alexandria Neonakis, containing a lullaby which describes the gifts from many northern animals, which are received by a newborn.
Marissa is trying to leave it behind: “that moment, after three or four drinks or the right amount of drugs, when everything comes together and you find yourself connected to the universe…when you are suddenly larger and you no longer feel like shrinking into yourself”. But it’s hard. Annelies Pool’s Free Love (2015) is this Yellowknife author’s debut novel and it switches between those moments and the other moments, the ones that make her ache for that high, so she is partly in the 1960s as she recalls painful moments from her childhood and partly in the 1980s trying for sobriety. Kitchens smell like tomato sauce and coffee, living rooms have orange and brown afghans and braided rugs: these are ordinary scenes, ordinary people navigating losses and disappointments and dreams. There’s dust under the coat-rack and mud near the door and “the midnight dusk … settled on the ice of Yellowknife Bay”.
Jane Munro’s Blue Sonoma (2014), her sixth poetry collection, won the Griffin Poetry Prize. (Brick Books) With more than two decades of living in British Columbia (on Vancouver Island and in the city of Vancouver), the coastal landscape permeates the work. In “Old Man Vacanas”: “Doe on the driveway / with this year’s fawn / and last year’s, now full grown, / eating salmonberry leaves.” And, in “A small doll nested in hollow dolls”, “water knows to be water / a spruce grows into a spruce / in a crevice / buckling down, living on less”.
Méira Cook’s Monologue Dogs (2015), her fifth book of poetry, boasts impressive-sounding blurbs by Molly Peacock and Steven Heighton. Cook was born in South Africa but now calls Winnipeg home. Whether inspired by history, myth or poetry, these verses are rich and accessible. In “Her Mother”: “It’s getting late, light flashes off the windows / of buildings and streetcars The year runs straight / off its tracks.” And it, like the others, has a short note at the back of the book with some writer’s insights and observations (a terrific addition). (Brick Books)
Ann Shin’s The Family China (2013) combines some of my favourite elements. The poems have strong narrative threads but simultaneously play with form. So readers can situate themselves in scenic and detailed passages but also enjoy extraordinary definitions of ordinary words which run alongside the verses, which often contain even more scenic and sensory-soaked details. Although she grew up on a farm in the Fraser Valley in B.C., she now lives in Toronto and has established an impressive film career as a director of short and feature length pieces. “Ancient ravines choked with asphalt, / a sky bristling with office buildings – / the emerging face is a geometry / mapped with the crisp clarity / of intersections.” (From “Forgotten Fields”, via Brick Books)
Born on the Prairies and now living in Nova Scotia, landscape and geography figure prominently in Lorri Neilsen Glenn’s poetry. There are many striking images in Lost Gospels (2010). “Together you walk into the open field of prairie wool / toward the ravine, its scattered harvest of old combines, rusted / limbs locked in a last plié, pocked and peeling and fired / by the sun.” (From the eponymous cycle of poems) There is also a cycle of poems inspired by Simone Weil and another by the Saskatoon Lily. Snippets of published journals and recorded songs appear, alongside memories and musings. (Brick Books)
Torch River (2007) is Saskatoon writer Elizabeth Philips’ fourth book of poetry. This collection took me the longest to read, because I regularly set aside the volume to reflect on the connections knitted between her observations and my experiences. This is the reason that I first started to read poetry: a sense that someone else could fit the indescribable into words. My favourite is “The Hanging Tree”, a poem she dedicates in the notes to her mother and father, and to Jake, the horse. Because the perspective steered me around a corner before I knew to turn away. But I have many other favourites too. (Brick Books)
The Good News about Armageddon (2010) by P.E.I. native Steve McOrmand is one of the most compulsively readable collections, despite the heavy subject matter. Even pairs of lines have weight. “The day has swollen ankles. We slow-mo / through thick sulphurous air.” (Fortunately the verses in this sequence are only printed on the top halves of the pages. Presumably so they can settle downwards as their significance holds sway.) Often bloody, even when there is dancing, they unfold against a landscape of the human condition. Only occasionally does geography take hold: “Waiting to board the ferry, we watch an ill wind pounce on a black truck tarpaulin, sink its teeth in and pull.” (From “Strait Crossing” via Brick Books)
From views of the Crystal Palace to the Children’s Zoo, from scenes in the red light district to the weave of a tapestry, from bear pits to sanctuaries: Stephanie Bolster’s poems reflect and refract throughout her fourth collection, A Page from the Wonders of Life on Earth (2011). Born in British Columbia and now living in Quebec, there is little of Canada in these verses; readers are more likely to find themselves in New York City or France. In “Eden or Ark”: “The child is taken there to see the world. Look, there is this and this.” Readers, too, are meant to marvel. A much-decorated poet. (Brick Books)
My favourite poem in Lynn Davies’ The Bridge that Carries the Road (1999) is “Dishwasher” about the dismantling of a kitchen appliance, about children riding down a hill in its basin. “Hands gripping the rim for the right-angle turn to the sidewalk. Shifting their weight to steer around the concrete heaves and cracks, for one wild ride to the bottom of the hill.” There are several glimpses of children in this collection, against the backdrop of a quiet melancholy and other instances which draw attention to bittersweet moments. This is her debut collection and I enjoyed it enough to seek out her others. She writes from New Brunswick, but her borders expand: “I met my cowboy on a car ferry sailing to Newfoundland. Heeled boots, bright Stetson all the way from Kamloops, B.C., distant land back then. On the ferry deck a wild east wind blew my poncho to pieces, furious speech I was grateful for.” (From “My Silent Days” via Brick Books)
Nora Gould writes in east-central Alberta. Her collection, I See My Love More Clearly from a Distance (2013) was her debut and her follow-up Selah was nominated for the Governor General’s Award four years later. In a CBC questionnaire, she says that Canadian writers do not need to write about Canada. So many of her poems feel universal and recognizable. “He nudged his dog across the truck seat. Off to the spring in the north field, he rolled his window up, almost closed. A crow cawed.” And the land is a constant presence. Which makes sense, given the opening to her Open Book “At the Desk”: “I write in tractors, the John Deere 7810 while I pick up grain from the combine and the 4230 and 4440 when hauling bales. For the latter, I move as needed to facilitate the loading then lumber down the road, meet the returning outfit, and exchange. I grab my cloth bag — pad of lined yellow paper, pens, and water bottle — and emerge into fall air colder than the sunshine suggests.” (Brick Books)
Michael Crummey’s Hard Light (1998) considers a landscape. “Darkness of spruce trees, maples scorched by the coming of winter.” And the “outrageous autumn-red pulse fading as the house moves deeper into night, the incandescent warmth of it slowly guttering into darkness”. But it is populated, by a woman who “dug the garden, watched [her] belly swell like a seed in water” and the “gulls out over the harbour, the slosh of water on the rocks”. And by a kind of stillness: “[p]redictable vegetables, sturdy and uncomplicated, tasting of the winter root cellar, the warmth of darkness smouldering beneath snow” and a “dark mahogany radio sits expressionless in the kitchen, a little Buddha, contemplating silence”. Crummey is one of my MustReadEverything authors, and I was thrilled to have a reason to settle into his debut, now one of the Brick Classic editions.
Joanna Lilley’s The Fleece Era ( 2014) is so of-a-piece with the landscape that I feel like I’ve inhabited it myself. It’s more familiar than I expected it to be, the extremes of weather still recognizable. “Kicking snow on the way to the bus stop / it jangles as it skitters, / lit by star and street-lamp glitter.” (Parhelion) “Ceiling fans spin, pretending it’s hot. It’s not. It’s as cold as any dwindling / Yukon August.” (I can’t Hear a Thing You’re Saying) My favourite poem in the collection is “If I Had Children” but, overall, I found these works to be accessible and evocative. So much so that I scurried to see what other books she’s written: a few, and a novel too. (Brick Books)
So it’s taken me more than a year to enjoy these thirteen volumes, but what a pleasure. Thanks, again, to The Book Mine Set and to Brick Books and to all these authors, who took me so many places on the page.
I’ve been doing the Canadian Book Challenge since the beginning and I’m looking forward to year 13 … I’ve already finished one toward my goal.
No end of good Canadian stories to add to your stacks: good luck with this year’s challenge. Anything in particular you’re excited to include in your list?
Wow, these are gorgeous books, and they couldn’t have gone to a more eclectic reader. I am sadly behind in my reading of inidgenous fiction, though several new Native American writers are gaining recognition here and our current poet laureate is Joy Harjo.
And it’s great to read about contemporary poetry. Few of us read enough of it!
It’s wonderful to see Harjo receive that recognition. Toronto’s current poet laureate is Al Moritz. And you inspired me to see who the current parliamentary laureate is in Canada: Georgette Leblanc. Now I must investigate: thanks for the nudge!
What a wonderful write up Buried. I’m impressed. And what lovely covers for these books.
Nora Gould’s comment that Canadian writers do not need to write about Canada is interesting. Of course they don’t NEED to, but on the other hand most writers start from what they know, and where you are from is fundamental to what you know, isn’t it? Yet, it’s usually important to universalise what you know, and I suppose that can include place, as it seems she has done? Still, I do mostly like a strong sense of place in what I read!
Me too, Whispering. I think of the vivid sense of place in Miles Franklin’s MBC and Kate Grenville’s novels: when I look to read from Australia, I yearn for that sense of immersion in an elsewhere. I want to imagine how different (or the same) it might be to wake up and smell THAT air and look out at THAT land. (Which you do and see all the time, of course.)
My sense is that Nora Gould is making a statement that could be less common to hear from writers of her time/place, an insistence that people who live here might also carry memories of (or curiosity about) other places too and that these writers, too, can still be considered Canadian writers as much as she can be. I feel as though she intends her statement to be inclusive rather than limiting, that she might be responding to more conservative (small c and big C, both dominant presences in the Prairies/Alberta) attitudes about the idea of belonging and nationhood. Maybe I’m overthinking it, but that’s my hunch. (I liked that she reads spy fiction when she’s writing poems!)
Ah, put that way, I understand her completely. We don’t want to pigeon-hole writers or restrict them, that’s for sure. The Stella judges here this year said they’d like to see more narratives from outside Australia, though they clearly meant written by Australian women given that’s what the prize is about. I found it an interesting comment and I presume they are mostly meaning writers who have come from elsewhere writing about those places. I think we could do with more of that.
When one feels that this is so fundamentally important and valuable, it’s hard to remember that not everyone feels the same way. I often forget that, especially living in a city where more than half the residents are born elsewhere and leave it behind to live here. Even so, this fear is ever-present, just more or less visible. Fortunately there are many ways to support and promote diverse storytellers now: and a seemingly endless supply of great stories to explore!
Maybe that’s what we’ll do with our broken dryer – take the drum out and save it for winter!
I agree with the comment above – who better to win this prize than you? What a well thought out and beautiful post!
You’re both very kind to say so. Even though I didn’t know about your appliance challenges when I was reading that one, I did think of you and your family when I read this poem. I even thought about nagging you to find a copy, but it feels like I am constantly nagging you to find books that I’m sure you’ll love. But, now you actually NEED to find it, so….
Nag away! Our library even has it – just put it on hold (even though I was there today and will be there again tomorrow and no one is likely to take it in the meantime. But, you know… my memory).
I have a little sticky note I attach to my library card with call numbers on it for this kind of “oh, I should peek at that” thing. But if I don’t grab it on the next visit, then all I have is the call number and I forget what the book was and it gets snapped up and then I’m checking for weeks, desperately trying to remember what it was I was looking for in the first place. snorts
Exactly!
What a gift you received. It sounds like there are some fabulous books in that set. My knowledge of Canadian literature is rather limited so this is a great resource also for the rest of us
One of the motivations for the challenge initially was to remind readers how much variety exists within the borders of this land currently called Canada (homeland to many indigenous communities, pre-colonization, of course, and, even still): this stack certainly reminded me that I need to seek out more books from the regions I don’t inhabit myself.
Oh wow, that a nice treat to win a collection such as this! And very timely with Canada Day yesterday, travelling across our great country in person is quite the feat, so travelling via books is an accessible way instead 🙂
I believe I’ve met Nora Gould through my various publishing events here in Alberta, but the name Meira Cook sounds familiar-I think I read one of her books recently, was it the House of Anansi one? I don’t think I liked it actually haha
Yes, such a lovely and generous prize, and I decided it would be smart to aim for July 1st when the new year rolled around, because otherwise I would have just ambled through these collections for years to come without a plan (normally not a problem, of course, but their being part of a prize, I felt an additional incentive to post about them as a group).
Well, it can’t be a good sign if you don’t remember her name! wry laugh Although…I do relate…sometimes I read in such a burst that author name and title become something of a blur. If I didn’t keep a log…
Exactly! This is why I keep a list of books i’ve read-just as a reminder! I rarely go back and look at it though, too much reading to do LOL
It’s true: the administrative side of things can be time-consuming and threaten the rate of page-turning. Which seems ever more pressing as we approach the busy autumn reading season…
Wow, I can’t imagine a more perfect person to win and read this collection. Thanks for sharing!
Thanks, Raidergirl. And at least one of these poets is writing about your neck of the proverbial (and provincial) woods too!
Oh, I love Sweetest Kulu! I’m a United Church of Canada minister and I used it back in February for our “Story for All Ages” (ie Children’s Time) to illustrate the balance between being intrinsically “beloved” and receiving instructions for how to live well in the world. And before I began reading it, I told the congregation that the illustrations were stunning so if they wanted to see the pictures, they could come forwards with the children – and some of the grown ups did!
What a wonderful choice for you to read with your group. And how fortunate that you have some adults who are willing to look at the pictures as well. I wish more books in today’s publishing world were illustrated (as they once were, those line drawings in the Dickens stories, etc.) and that more readers were willing to recall the joy that a picture book can bring.