Regardless, I have a responsibility. But first, I must tell you a story. About a year ago I posed a question on Facebook as to what classes I should take in the upcoming Spring semester. I'm not going to write out the whole drama because I'm pretty sure that almost everyone who reads this blog was either present in it or a silent observer (yes, I'm looking at you). Anyway, you can read it all here or enjoy this tasteful synopsis:
Me: What classes should I take? I am indecisive and need impartial people to justify my actions.
BW: Canadian literature is evil.
MW: For shizzle, home slice.
KP: No it most certainly is not.
MW: Ya-huh!
KP: Nu-uh! Here’s a rational explanation as to why it’s not.
MW: *in head* Careful Michael, we’ve seen this before. Here’s a diplomatic response that will lighten the mood, though, I must confess, I am still not a fan of Canadian literature.
KP:
After the dust had settled, the question of quality Canadian literature still hung in the balance. (All right, that’s not entirely how it went down, but if you really cared you would have checked out the longer link already).
To clarify things, I am not saying that there is no such thing as good Canadian literature. I know well enough that an invisible borderline between the US and Canada is not enough to distinguish between good and bad literature. Nor am I not a proud Canadian. Cause I am. Honest. I even go so far as to spell “favorite” “favourite” and “color” “colour”, that’s how legit I am.
But twelve years of having Canadian history repeatedly thrown at you in Social class does become a bit tedious. In my first year of university I took a Survey of Canadian Literature class in order to break my jaded high school preconceptions and stereotypes of Canadian literature. Sadly, not only were they not broken, they were reinforced with a 5-inch thick, steel, bulletproof wall (hyperbole, ten points). Despite my desire to love Canadian literature, I still found myself hating anybody whoever called themselves a pioneer as I wrote a ten-page essay on the symbolism of barns and canoes in Confederation poetry. No joke, here is an excerpt from my essay:
“The title of the Italian sonnet, In an Old Barn, implies that the narrator has a deep appreciation for the romantic antiquity of a cattle shelter.”
It goes on like that for 1,500 more words. (Ok, I’ll be honest, my own prose isn’t exactly outstanding). Despite a semester of a studying, the best Canadian image I could conjure up was of a lumberjack man and his Little-House-on-the-Prairie wife standing by their log cabins and homemade canoes, enduring the brutal winters and taking advantage of Native Americans. Also, there are geese flying overhead.
The final conclusion we came to at the end of my Canadian literature class was that there really is no such thing as the “Canadian identity” as it is the amalgamation of cultures and concepts which defines it. I came to peace with this definition as our mosaic society is one of the things that makes me proud to be Canadian. Canada isn’t really definable (terrible stereotypes aside) and I like that.
Yet, here we are. Personally, I don’t know any Canadian authors that I would proudly boast about to my non-Canadian friends. To be honest, I barely know any Canadian authors at all, let alone ones that are worth bragging about. I get that Canada isn’t all about geese and rivers and rocks and trees, though I really don’t have any concrete proof to dispute this claim. Sad. So, enter CBMM. I'm looking forward to this challenge because I honestly do want to think of nothing but the highest of my dear home and native land.
So now, skip back to real time. I have since received six of the twelve CBMM’s from Kerry but unfortunately have only had the time to read the first one. And my first official thoughts are: I really liked it!
The first book Kerry sent was "The Flying Troutmans" by Miriam Toews. Prior to reading it, my expectations weren’t too high. I honestly thought that it was going to be a nice story about happy Christians doing happy things. Turns out it was nothing like that. Miriam Toews is really famous for her Mennonite book “A Complicated Kindness” which I’ve since heard a lot about and look forward to reading. So I guess I shouldn’t really have expected a nice Christian book about nice things, but this is all about breaking my ignorance anyway, so this is good.Once in, it took me a while to get used to the modern hipster names. The story is about Hattie, her depressed sister Min, her neice and nephew Thebes and Logan, and their dad Cherkis. Not a single Tom or Frank Penner to be found. The reason I did end up enjoying this book was because it was very quick; it’s kind of like reading an episode of the Gilmore Girls. The dialogue is fast, the message is deep but not deep enough to get lost in, and the characters are quirky but loveable.
That being said, I did have one major complaint: it has NOTHING to do with Canada. The unconventional family begins their roadtrip in the good ol’ Frozen North, but the vast majority of the book is spent driving through the States. It is ironic that a book that is supposed to prove the value of Canadian literature turns its back on Canada within the first couple of chapters.
So, I will end with this. It was definitely an enjoyable book (enough so that I bought "A Complicated Kindness" at Value Village yesterday). Yes, Miriam Toews is a good, Canadian author (and a Mennonite to boot), but "Flying Troutmans" is not really a Canadian book.
Here's a totally unrelated song for those of you who weren't particularly interested in any of this:
PS: If you're a keener and reading this right away I sincerely apologize for the wonky fonts; I'll fix it in the morning.
8 comments:
If I were Kerry, I would mail (assuming the Canada Post strike ends) to you The Favourite Game by Leonard Cohen.
If I were you, I would try to keep up this pace of posting.
If I were sensible, I'd go to bed now.
I'll definitely be checking out the Favourite Game. My Canadian Lit prof was obsessed with Cohen so I definitely gained a good appreciation for him in that class. I think it's fair to say that he stands as the highest Canadian author in my mind.
I have every intention of keeping this pace as best as I can.
If I were sensible, I would have gone to bed 5 hours ago.
I look forward to more reviews...
being a bored graduate of Canada's post-secondary education system, I feel the need to read - something, anything, everything in sight. Preferably decent literature. Preferably something that I can incorporate into a thesis paper on the sociology of literature. who knows... depends on what i decide to do with this degree thingy i've got.
but blog reading is potentially my favourite. so i haunt yours, and kp's, and c-bear's, etc.
I disagree with the assertion that a book has to be explicitly about Canada, or to take place in Canada, to be Canadian literature. But perhaps that's a debate for another day. And maybe I should have chosen "A Boy of Good Breeding" as my Miriam Toews book. Or "Summer of My Amazing Luck". Both take place in Canada and would have rendered this debate moot.
In other news, I'm so glad you've written this and posted it! And I like your interpretation of the CBMM origins story. CHALLENGE ACCEPTED! I will be linking this into my reviews henceforth.
"A Complicated Kindness" is brilliant, PS. I guess I could have chosen that one too, but it seemed too obvious.
Kerry is right, for the record. A Canadian writing about anything = Canadian literature. It's about the author, not the characters; the point of view, not the location. It is not what the book is about, but how it is about it.
When Jules Vern wrote Around the World In 80 Days, the chapters of the book were not torn out so that the chapter when Phileas Fogg is in India can be filed under Indian Literature, and the chapter when they are in the US be filed under American Lit.
Sorry to go on and on, but it was just such a good counter example that I had to post it.
Thank you, Ben.
Jenni, haunt away. I've definitely followed yours consistently for quite some time.
Kerry and Ben: You're both totally right. My argument is built mostly on the fact that I was just so excited to see the book begin in familiar towns and then just so sad to see them leave it all behind. It's the "I Will Follow You Into the Dark" effect: I want to read a good Canadian story about a good Canadian city (Toronto and Montreal don't count).
What I meant is that this book does not help shape the "Canadian identity" through it's narrative. Yes, the author herself contributes to the ideology, but her work does not enhance the overall picture. Does that make sense?
Probably not. I realize that my argument is on weak ground.
I understand what you mean. JUST WAIT TILL YOU GET TO THE GARNEAU BLOCK!
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