Write a blog that hyper-links your research on the characters in GGRW according to the pages assigned to you. Be sure to make use of Jane Flick’s reference guide on your reading list. (Paterson)

Summary of my section

(In my edition, pp.217-229)

This is the part of the novel when all the characters are relaxing at night and watching westerns (in the case of Eli, reading one). Charlie recognizes his father as one of the actors in one of the westerns. The four old Indians also make an appearance in the western, as this is the one they “fixed” (King 223). The section ends with the ending of another creation story, where Changing Woman—who introduces herself to her arrestors as Ishmael—leaves the whale (Moby-Jane) she’s been riding on and gets arrested by soldiers and dragged to Fort Marion again.

Allusions

Cowboy vs. Indians western with John Wayne

John Wayne is an actor of many anti-Indian westerns and his films have been picked by Indians (Flick 147). According to Snopes.com, Wayne has been quoted by Playboy magazine saying that he feels the colonial takeover of land from Indians by whites was justified, and that current generations of white Americans don’t owe current generations of Indians anything. In another biographical summary of John Wayne, the actor is an insecure version of his on-stage persona who had his own personal, financial, and career problems; while a chaser of women, a Republican supporter, and a macho-man, Wayne was also pre-occupied with showering his family with gifts and even showed an interest in collecting “native American kachina dolls.”

In this way, Wayne echoes aspects of Charlie’s and Lionel’s personalities: a struggle with women (according to the biography, Wayne had several failed relationships), struggles with career, and clashes between career and belief. Wayne adamantly held to roles that were in line with his beliefs until his Oscar-winning performance in the 1969 version of True Grit.

Flick also suggests that Lionel’s desire for Wayne’s jacket suggests Lionel’s “denial of ‘Indianness'” (147). Flick also points out that Morningstar also wears a parallel wardrobe, Custer’s wardrobe (147).

Portland’s nose also makes an appearance, and his need to wear makeup is because he doesn’t fit the stereotype of an Indian’s nose (Flick 153). Ironically, he is an Indian himself.

Moby-Jane and Ishmael/Changing Woman creation story

Changing Woman is a character from Navajo lore that brings humanity into the current “fifth world” from the previous four worlds (Flick 152). Flick also asks us to consider one of these “changes” of Changing Woman as a hinted lesbian relationship with the female character Moby Jane. Moby Jane is also King’s contrasting challenge to Melville’s patriarchal world (Flick 158).

Changing Woman is of particular interest to our story of transformation and change as she is closely related to the Medicine Wheel in Native American legends: “[s]he represents the cyclical path of the Seasons, Birth (Spring), Maturing (Summer), Growing old (Fall), and Dying (Winter), only to be reborn again in the Spring (“Native American Legends”). An academic article cites Gary Witherspoon as calling male characters in Navajo legends “static reality” while female characters are “active reality” (Rissetto).

Ishmael is also of particular interest. In addition to being a character of famous lines in Moby Dick (Flick 143), Ishmael is an interesting Biblical character of the Judeo-Christian faiths. He is the first—though illegitimate—son of Abraham and, despite his bastard status, becomes an important and influential Biblical figure that is blessed by God (Zavada). A rise from lowliness to importance is another theme in King’s novel: Eli and Charlie beat Native stereotypes of unemployment by becoming hotshot lawyers, same as Alberta, despite her abusive childhood, and Portland has an interesting journey becoming successful, failing, and getting back in the scene again.

What parallels can you find based on these allusions?

Work cited

Flick Jane. “Reading Notes for Thomas King’s Green Grass, Running Water.” Canadian Literature 161/162 (1999). Web. 4 Apr. 2013. (original citation off Paterson’s website—I think this version has been stored in our blogosphere?)

King, Thomas. Green Grass Running Water. Toronto: Harper Perennial, 2007. Print.

“Native American Legends: Changing Woman—A Navajo Legend.” First People of America and Canada—Turtle Island. First People, n.d. Web. 7 July 2015.

Paterson, Erika. “Lesson 3:3.” ENGL 470A Canadian Studies Canadian Literary Genres May 2015. University of British Columbia Department of English, n.d. Web. 7 July 2015.

Rissetto, Adriana C. “Changing Woman: Myth, Metaphor, and Pragmatics.” Between Four Sacred Mountains. University of Virginia, n.d. Web. 7 July 2015.

Sheridan, Peter. “The Mn behind the Tough-talking Persona: New Biography Reveals the Real John Wayne.” Express [London] 11 Apr. 2014: 38-39. Northern and Shell Media Publication, 11 Apr. 2014. Web. 7 July 2015.

“Wayne’s World.” Urban Legends Reference Pages. Snopes.com, 2 May 2015. Web. 7 July 2015.

Zavada, Jack. “Ishmael—First Son of Abraham.” About: Religion. About.com, n.d. Web. 7 July 2015.

Coyote Pedagogy is a term sometimes used to describe King’s writing strategies (Margery Fee and Jane Flick). Discuss your understanding of the role of Coyote in the novel. (Dr. Erika Paterson)

Coyote is definitely one of my favourite characters in this novel. He’s playful, he’s fresh, and he seems pretty much in charge of everything…or at least very influential in how the world works. By dancing and singing, he is able to incite much trouble, such as this foreshadowing to the novel finale’s earthquake:

“You haven’t been dancing again, Coyote?” said Ishmael.

“Just a little,” says Coyote.

“You haven’t been singing again, Coyote?” said Robinson Crusoe.

“Just a little,” says Coyote.

“Oh, boy,” said Hawkeye. “Here we go again.”

(King 409)

The biggest thing that strikes me about Coyote is his childlike personality. Coyote is always the listener to the narrator’s creation stories, and he always tries to playfully guess what happens next (King 269). Coyote is never serious. His behaviour is on par with the antics of a very outgoing, playful, and imaginative child.

But I wouldn’t call Coyote naive. In fact, he proclaims that he is “very smart” (King 2). He seems to know the power of his singing and dancing, he just does it anyway. “‘But I was helpful, too,’ says Coyote. ‘That woman who wanted a baby. Now, that was helpful'” (King 416). In addition to Coyote’s obvious transformative roles in the story, I personally think Coyote also represents the ideal reader, listener, or consumer of stories. He is an active and enthusiastic participant in the narrator’s storytelling; sometimes, he even questions the events of the stories.

“Nope,” I tell Coyote. “She lands on a canoe.”

“A canoe!” Says Coyote. “Where did a canoe come from?”

“Use your imagination,” I says.

“Was it a green Royalite Old Town single,” says Coyote, with oak gunnels and woven cane seats?”

“No,” I says, “it wasn’t one of those.”

“Was it a red wood-and-canvas Beaver touring canoe with cedar ribs and built-in portage racks?”

“Not one of those either,” I says. “This canoe was big canoe. And it was white. And it was full of animals.”

“Wow!” says Coyote.

(King 105)

Coyote reminds me of the different people questioning the Native creation story Thomas King retells in every chapter of his Massey Lecture.

Another interesting thing about Coyote that challenges Western worldviews is the concept of his being. What is he? Is he a deity? A spirit? A god? A recurring fictional character? Just a regular talking coyote that happens to be invisible? I find it interesting that, despite all his power to change the world, Coyote does not embody the typical traits of a Western-type “god.” Coyote is good-natured, childlike and, despite his power, doesn’t lord it over people. He follows the Old Indians around rather than leading them. He is the listener of the story rather than the teller, who is the mysterious “I” narrator that entertains him throughout the book—”‘And here’s how it happened'” (King 3). And, Coyote would rather be a coyote than a dog/god (King 2).

Coyote as a spirit/god/dog/what-have-you works to challenge the belief that supernatural things are “martial and hierarchical . . . that encourage egotism and self-interest” (The Truth 26), which is a Western belief. Coyote’s childlike personality and the cyclical and repetitive nature of his storytelling/listening arc (the ending of the novel is the same as the beginning) also challenges the idea that a god must be omnipotent, omnipresent, all-powerful, and all-knowing. Coyotes (the animal) are also unique in that they are an adaptive wild species—unlike cougars, bears, and wolves, who move away from human settlement, coyotes have found a way to co-exist with human inhabitants. This helps visualize Coyote as a fluid character and a fluid concept. Moreover, after a little research in coyote lore, I found that in Blackfoot culture he is closely associated with Old Man and Old Woman, “Adam-and-Eve”-type characters who have a large role in creating the world (rather than their creator). Coyote suggests that transformation and creation is collective, made by normal people (like the old Indians) and the other characters of the novel.

King, Thomas. Green Grass Running Water. Toronto: Harper Perennial, 2007. Print.

—The Truth About Stories: A Native Narrative. Peterbough:Anansi Press. 2003. Print.

“Urban Wildlife: Coyotes.” BC SPCA: Speaking for Animals. The British Columbia Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, n.d. Web. 02 July 2015.

Paterson, Erika. “Lesson 3:2.” ENGL 470A Canadian Studies Canadian Literary Genres May 2015. University of British Columbia Department of English, n.d. Web. 29 June 2015.

Redish, Laura, and Orrin Lewis. “Legendary Native American Figures: Napi (Old-Man).” Native Languages of the Americas. Native Languages of the Americas, n.d. Web. 02 July 2015.

In this lesson I say that it should be clear that the discourse on nationalism is also about ethnicity and ideologies of “race.” If you trace the historical overview of nationalism in Canada in the CanLit guide, you will find many examples of state legislation and policies that excluded and discriminated against certain peoples based on ideas about racial inferiority and capacities to assimilate. – and in turn, state legislation and policies that worked to try to rectify early policies of exclusion and racial discrimination. As the guide points out, the nation is an imagined community, whereas the state is a “governed group of people.” For this blog assignment, I would like you to research and summarize one of the state or governing activities, such as The Royal Proclamation 1763, the Indian Act 1876, Immigration Act 1910, or the Multiculturalism Act 1989 – you choose the legislation or policy or commission you find most interesting. Write a blog about your findings and in your conclusion comment on whether or not your findings support Coleman’s argument about the project of white civility. (Dr. Erika Paterson)

To answer this question, I decided to look at the Head Tax and Chinese Exclusion Act, legislation notorious for their racial controversy. One of the first things that caught my attention was the fact that these were enacted after the Canadian Pacific Railway was finished. Before, I have always assumed that these acts were enacted as a way to deter Chinese immigrants from “stealing” local railway jobs. Yet, I think the biggest effect of the Act was not taking away Chinese peoples’ intentions of working in Canada, but dividing families where fathers/husbands had worked on the CPR while mothers/wives and children had stayed behind in China, hoping to reunite someday (see details in hyperlinked sources).

While the head tax and Exclusion Act were clearly racist legislation, I can still sense the fear of infiltrating foreigners today. For example, many people grumble over foreign property purchases that are allegedly pushing up Vancouver housing prices (which—as a family dinner conversation brought up—may or may not be true). For a (rather controversial) list of reasons why the head tax was justified, read this. You can then make up your own interpretation…

But there’s a big difference here: most people today would lament immigration in general (if they would even lament) without targeting any specific origins. Indeed, I feel that any type of fear today is about lack of homogeneity in Vancouver society rather than a dislike for specific types of people. Metro Vancouver has so many cultural enclaves sometimes it’s hard to remember you’re in the same city. There’s a specificity in the Chinese Exclusion Act that strikes a nerve. In other words, an “Immigration Exclusion Act” would be more acceptable than a “Chinese Exclusion Act.” (Of course, there are problems with that too, but you see my point).

Incidentally, while researching, I stumbled on a rather incredible but forgotten story: that of 150 years of amiable shared relations between BC’s First Nations and BC’s first Chinese. United in their shared experience of second-class members of society and discrimination, this is a forgotten story in the Canadian lexicon, one that has perhaps been dwarfed by the “white civility” (qtd. in Paterson) Coleman mentions.

Cedar and Bamboo Teaser: Chinese and Aboriginal Relations since 1788 from MacRae Multimedia on Vimeo.

Journalist Justine Hunter calls this a “symbiotic relationship.” Her article is quite revealing: for example, the Sto:lo have named hills across the Coquihalla River as “Lexwpopeleqwith’aim” or “always screech owls,” a reference to the belief that ghosts of Chinese workers still haunt after their being killed in a blast. Here’s another insightful article about this forgotten history of Chinese and Indigenous co-operation.

I had heard of this relationship very briefly—maybe one line, or a phrase, spoken in a long-forgotten social studies class. So why is this story forgotten? Indeed, it feels like it is on the “periphery” of the rest of Canadian history. One may even ask why we should care: surely, nothing “productive” came out of this relationship of two rather powerless minorities—no laws, no big protest movement even, maybe a few mixed-heritage families at most.

Maybe it’s been forgotten because no colonists were involved, except perhaps in the context of a “common enemy” figure in the story. This is “1) the fictive element of nation building, and 2) the necessary forgetfulness required to hold that fiction together” Dr. Paterson mentions in her latest lesson (summarizing Coleman). Chinese people quite literally built an integral part of this country, and Indigenous peoples have been part of this country for millennia; yet, the contributions of these people and their partnership seem to have been forgotten in favour of the colonial story. As if Canada didn’t officially “start” until settlers moved in.

Works Cited

“Chinese & First Nations.” Chinese Canadian Stories. Chinese Canadian Stories, n.d. Web. 24 June 2015.

Chinese Canadians and First Nations: 150 Years of Shared Experience. Chinese Canadian Historical Society of BC, n.d. Web. 24 June 2015.

“Chinese Head Tax and Exclusion Act.” Chinese Canadian National Council. Chinese Canadian National Council, n.d. Web. 24 June 2015.

Hunter, Justine. “A Forgotten History: Tracing the Ties between B.C.’s First Nations and Chinese Workers.” The Globe and Mail. The Globe and Mail, 9 May 2015. Web. 24 June 2015.

Jang, Brent. “Foreign Buyers Are Not Driving up Housing Prices, B.C. Group Says.” The Globe and Mail. The Globe and Mail, 10 June 2015. Web. 24 June 2015.

Ma, Suzanne. “A Tour Of The Deep Relationship Between B.C. Chinese Immigrants, First Nations.” The Huffington Post. TheHuffingtonPost.com, 23 Sept. 2012. Web. 24 June 2015.

MacRae Multimedia. “Cedar and Bamboo Teaser: Chinese and Aboriginal Relations since 1788.” Vimeo. Vimeo, 2009. Video. 24 June 2015.

“No More Chinese!” Road to Justice. MTCSALTC, n.d. Web. 24 June 2015.

“Our History.” Canadian Pacific Railway. Canadian Pacific, n.d. Web. 24 June 2015.

Paterson, Erika. “Lesson 3:1.” ENGL 470A Canadian Studies Canadian Literary Genres May 2015. University of British Columbia Department of English, n.d. Web. 24 June 2015.

“Some Politically Incorrect Conclusions About The Chinese Head Tax and Chinese Exclusion Laws.” IWC. Immigration Watch Canada, 5 April 2006. Web (press release). 24 June 2015.

“Taxing the Chinese.” Road to Justice. MTCSALTC, n.d. Web. 24 June 2015.

Following Carlson’s discussions on literacy as “part of a broader genre of transformation” (61), try to explain what he means when he says that transformation is an “act of literacy.” This can be confusing at first, but if you follow his discussion beginning with “how Salish people understand the process or act of transformation in relation to literacy itself” and pay attention to how he uses etymology to shape his insights, you should be able to extract an explanation for conceptualizing transformations as writing and as readable. —Dr. Erika Paterson, ENGL470

To further understand this concept of orality-to-literacy transformation as a non-Native new to the idea, I will attempt to see it analogously to my own experience in writing fiction. (Note that the main difference between my experience and the Native conceptualization is that I am working with fictitious material; I will address this difference as well).

Prompt

First stories tell us how the world was created. In The Truth about Stories, King tells us two creation stories; one about how Charm falls from the sky pregnant with twins and creates the world out of a bit of mud with the help of all the water animals, and another about God creating heaven and earth with his words, and then Adam and Eve and the Garden. King provides us with a neat analysis of how each story reflects a distinct worldview. “The Earth Diver” story reflects a world created through collaboration, the “Genesis” story reflects a world created through a single will and an imposed hierarchical order of things: God, man, animals, plants. The differences all seem to come down to co-operation or competition — a nice clean-cut satisfying dichotomy. However, a choice must be made: you can only believe ONE of the stories is the true story of creation – right? That’s the thing about creation stories; only one can be sacred and the others are just stories. Strangely, this analysis reflects the kind of binary thinking that Chamberlin, and so many others, including King himself, would caution us to stop and examine. So, why does King create dichotomies for us to examine these two creation stories? Why does he emphasize the believability of one story over the other — as he says, he purposefully tells us the “Genesis” story with an authoritative voice, and “The Earth Diver” story with a storyteller’s voice. Why does King give us this analysis that depends on pairing up oppositions into a tidy row of dichotomies? What is he trying to show us? — Dr. Erika Paterson, English 470

Growing up in Catholic school, I remember one distinct teaching in particular. I don’t remember the particular teacher, but he or she said: there are many religions in the world, but only one of them is true; the truth of one religion automatically makes the other religions not true. 

We like to align ourselves and the cultural group we identify in with the truth. We like to believe that we are right. Western values include capitalism, freedom, and the individual. Contrast this with eastern values (ie. cultures like China and Korea) where the communal good is often valued more than individual freedom. Many of us would think it unjust if we were asked to sacrifice our dream job for running the family business, for example, but in an eastern culture, this would be merely respect.

Which civilization is “right”?

As Thomas King notes, the dichotomy is “the elemental structure of Western society” because “we are fearful of enigmas” (25). We can’t believe that there are a multiplicity of truths or a multiplicity of right answers. Instead, we align ourselves with one side of the dichotomy because we believe it to be right side. There is a moral aspect.

However, I’d like to examine Thomas King’s choice of stories more deeply. Notice that both the story of Charm and the Genesis story are supernatural ones. Both of them—at least according to the scientific/atheistic/”rational” perspective—are mythologies (which, interesting, has been summarized by one scholar as “other people’s religion”). Yet, many people in the western world would reject the Charm story and believe in the Genesis story. Both of these stories are supernatural and, depending on your private beliefs, equally believable and equally ludicrous. One is not more ludicrous or believable than the other.

So why choose one mythology over the other?

I think that was King’s point. People choose to believe in the Genesis story not because of some rational, progressive way of thinking. People choose it because it is theirs. The Genesis story has been part of the western narrative for centuries and so ingrained in our culture that we automatically find it more believable, although upon further investigation it is no way superior in “rationality” or “progression” than the Charm story.

In fact, many people in western culture reject the Big Bang theory story, or the evolution story. To our western Judeo-Christian worldview, such things—no matter how much sense they make—are merely stories.

When a new story comes and threatens the older one, we fear the new one. We quickly establish the new story as the evil other and our story as the original good. We attach a morality to it: the Genesis story is simply true because it is right. 

So I think King is saying that dichotomies are not rational. They are pushed by our feelings, our assumptions, and our comfort zones. It’s like reading a tragedy in the news. We read it, we know it actually happened, and yet we go through our day normally. Because in our bubble, that news story is just a story.

Works Cited

King, Thomas. The Truth About Stories: A Native Narrative. Toronto: House of Anansi Press Inc., 2003.

Murphy, Ryan. “Asian culture: collectivism, saving face, and sexuality.” Examiner.com. AXS Digital Group, 23 April 2011. Web. 11 June 2015.

Paterson, Erika. “Lesson 2:2.” ENGL 470 A Canadian Studies: Canadian Literary Genres may 2015. The University of British Columbia Department of English, n.d. Web. 11 June 2015.

Sevigny, Julie. “What is Mythology? What is Myth?” Business Insider. Business Insider, 23 May 2011. Web. 11 June 2015.

Read at least 3 students blog short stories about ‘home’ and make a list of the common shared assumptions, values and stories that you find. Post this list on your blog with some commentary about what you discovered. —Erika Paterson

Hannah Vaartnou: “Home is in your heart”

I found Hannah’s idea of home as “a never ending, twisting, turning, a constantly evolving journey” quite refreshing. We are brought up to believe that we grow up and live in a fixed place, and that might exist in fiction, but in reality our young lives go through so much change in their formative years. And I think this change is a fundamental part of what we call “home.” I love how Hannah describes the events and forces that shaped her childhood and how she connects all that with the idea of home, whether those forces were good or bad.

This leads me to reflect on the forces that shaped my own formative years. Like Hannah, I was raised in a Christian family and attended a Catholic school in my early elementary years. Sometimes I forget how much this experience has affected me, but it has. Growing up in an environment like that instills in you certain values and outlooks that are a core part of you and not easily changed.

Mattias Marten:”The Sense of Placelessness”

Like Saarah, I love Mattias’ ending idea that “home is a habit that builds up around you” and that he “find[s] home wherever [he] happen[s] to be, in welcoming country, earnest minds, and the smiles of strangers and strange familiars.” Not only was this ending paragraph poetic, it offers some hope and comfort to what I think are lots of individuals in this generation who are transient. The environment is becoming one of impermanence with more blurry lines of ownership, for example. Life is fast in the twenty-first century: one moment you may be doing this, another moment something else across the country. The idea of “settling down” is something that happens much later in life, yet, young people are often pressured to do this.

However, I don’t think a life of moving around automatically makes your conception of home impermanent. I think at the end of the day, home is associated with permanence—home is something you can “go back to.” I’m not saying home has to be a permanent space, more that home is the familiar. I once talked to a Go Global student advisor who said that, if she felt homesick while abroad, she and her Canadian friend would go to a sushi restaurant and talk about Vancouver (since sushi is bountiful in Vancouver.

Debra Gooei: So This is Where I Know is Home

In her post, Debra describes the changes her hometown of Singapore has gone through since she’s come to Vancouver, and the also the stereotypes and assumptions held by people outside the city. This is a highly relatable post to me because I also grew up in an area that has since been heavily developed.

Not speaking about my neighbourhood per se, but I can also see stereotypes and assumptions outsiders may have towards Vancouver. Debra notes that many people assume she is Chinese rather than Singaporean due to what she looks like. I can say the same. In my travels abroad, many people still believe Canada to be a predominantly white country. Yet, there is a large Asian population in Vancouver, and as a visual representative of that population, I’ve occasionally been questioned about my Canadian-ness. Our communities are becoming more mixed, and so are our backgrounds. These things are difficult to express, but they exist—for example, in the heavily globalized city of Hong Kong (where my family is from), there is now a company that addresses this multi-background-ness through art and festivals.

This post leads me to believe that it is natural for homes to evolve, to change and grow as we change and grow. Sometimes we may not like it (no one likes their favourite park or wooded sanctuary bulldozed over), but these things happen do in the twenty-first century. Home is also a diverse place, a place where not everyone is uniform, even if we’ve been conditioned to believe that certain places hold certain people.

Works Cited

Bale, Sung. “Third Culture – Where Transient Millennials Can Explore Their Roots.” South China Morning Post. South China Morning Post Publishers Ltd., 21 Mar. 2015. Web. 8 June 2015.

Gooei, Debra. “So This is Where I Know is Home.” Oh Canada! An Interpretation. The University of British Columbia student blogs, n.d. Web. 05 June 2015.

Marten, Mattias. “2:1—The Sense of Placelessness.” Centre of Mass. The University of British Columbia student blogs, 04 June 2015. Web. 05 June 2015.

Mincer, Jilian. “The Allure of ‘no Ownership’ for Millennials Is Moving beyond Housing and Cars.” Business Insider. Business Insider, Inc., 28 May 2015. Web. 08 June 2015.

Paterson, Erika. “Course Schedule.” ENGL 470 A Canadian Studies: Canadian Literary Genres may 2015. The University of British Columbia Department of English, n.d. Web. 5 June 2015.

Vaartnou, Hannah. “.home is in your heart.” Hannah and Canada. The University of British Columbia student blogs, 5 June 2015. Web. 5 June 2015.

Prompt: Write a short story (600 – 1000 words) that describes your sense of home; write about the values and the stories that you use to connect yourself to, and to identify your sense of home. (Dr. Erika Paterson, ENGL 470)

—

I liked this house.

Unlike the apartment we’d just checked out, this house was a little older, so there wasn’t that nauseating new paint smell that made me want to throw up. I don’t remember why, but I was so very happy in this house, even though it was much smaller than the only other one I remember: our house in Toronto, whre I was born.

The moment I got my shoes off I darted in and sat in front of the empty fireplace. Then I hopped up the stairs, singing a wordless tune I’d made up.

While I was doing this, Mom, Dad, and Grandma—my housemates—had a conversation with my aunt (a realtor) I’d later learn was very brief. “She looks so darn happy in this house,” Grandma said. “We should get this one.” And Mom and Dad agreed.

And so I came to reside on the traditional and unceded homeland of the Musqueam from the age of three. I attended elementary school, high school, and now university practically on the doorstep of this house.

Between the hours of high school monotony and during the brief summer months, us teenagers took our bikes and explored campus’ nooks and crannies. D.Y. and I pretended to be Katniss Everdeen and challenged each other to scale various trees around the hood. J.C. took me to photogenic deserted beaches with still water, silence, and long waving fronds of grass. A.C. showed me where she’d found ostriches (yes, UBC keeps ostriches for…research?!) behind a badly-boarded fence at the back of a building development. We only had to peel back the boards to peer eye-to-eye with the birds.

With those I lived with I went on different adventures. Picking up boatloads of groceries at the Chinatown-Stadium T&T, baking in the open concrete parking lot during the summers. Later, long drives down Marine Drive and across the bridge to Richmond, gathering items like gai lan, bok choy, and tilapia. If I was being good, bubble waffles at Parker Place.

My friends from school also spoke English at school and climbed trees/biked/explored beaches after. Then, they’d go home and go to different places, speak a different language—very likely an East Asian one, since many were Asian immigrants.

Paraphrasing conversations a year or so ago: I sit eating dinner with my parents in the dining room. The summer’s long evening sunlight filters through our tall windows, and outside birds and people alike chirp with energy. “Two more years,” my dad sighs, “until I get to retire.”

“Have you found any other places?” I ask my mom and dad.

“We were just saying the other day, picking you up at Joyce, that that neighbourhood seems convenient,” he says. “Then of course there’s Richmond. All our favourite shops close by. Of course, you’d have to account for the potential flooding.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re being paranoid, dad.” But wherever they ended up matters little to me. By the time they move I’ll have graduated and started my own life. These days when I go out I also vaguely look at Vancouver’s various neighbourhoods for yuppie-living-potential. I really like the West End and downtown, but of course that would be out of my price range. Maybe somewhere like Mount Pleasant or Strathcona, somewhere close to Main and my favourite cafes and record stores?

It’s funny. As a ten year-old I would dream of big detached houses with trees that could be transformed into treehouses. Now I look for compact places with minimal cleaning needs and judge on their proximity to artisanal coffee roasters.

“Remind me again,” I say, “what’s so complicated about living in UBC that makes us have to sell?”

“We don’t own the land, so we have to pay extra taxes.”

“Right. The Musqueam own it.”

“No, we lease the land from UBC. We pay an extra tax, along with the usual Vancouver property tax. That’s why it’s so expensive to live here.”

I didn’t understand the incredible privilege I had of living in such a beautiful neighbourhood, nor did I understand the true history behind it, until my later teen years. All I saw were trees to climb and memories to be made. During my high school years, when UBC started to get heavily developed, I looked on as, bit by bit, the forests I’d learned to love and know transformed into apartment blocks. It used to be that my neighbourhood was the only residential neighbourhood in UBC—all along Wesbrook Mall was forest. Now we had several neighbourhoods.

But did our home belong to us in the first place?

That’s a tricky question, but I’d like to think that as long as you’re free to roam the wooded trails and breathe the ocean breeze, you are home. And I hope the Musqueam, who have done that for thousands of years, will continue to do so for countless generations to come.

Works cited

Paterson, Erika. “Lesson 2:1.” ENGL 470A Canadian Studies: Canadian Literary Genres May 2015. The University of British Columbia Department of English, n.d. Web. 3 June 2015.

Todd, Douglas. “Mapping our ethnicity Part 2: China comes to Richmond.” The Vancouver Sun. Postmedia Network, 2 May 2012. Web. 4 June 2015.

“University Lands Press.” IndigenousFoundations.arts.ubc.ca. First Nations Studies Program at University of British Columbia, n.d. Web. 4 June 2015.

All photos belong to me.

Prompt: amend aspects of Silko’s story of how evil came into the world (King 9) and discuss experience of telling it, orally, to others.

Note: regular font is first draft; bolded font is stuff I added post-telling. Update May 31: Added a link to alien conspiracy theories, if anyone’s into that kind of stuff.

The story

So you know how there’s this conspiracy theory that aliens have visited our planet and been in cahoots with some of our leaders for thousands of years? That Jesus Christ, Buddha, or Quetzalcoatl were actually aliens. Well, I’m here to tell you that’s actually true.

Aliens first visited Earth around the time most of us were still figuring out how to build fires and feed ourselves. The aliens came to Earth in their shiny spaceships and looked around at all the humans scratching around for food.

Seeing the humans work so hard (but so pathetically) to carve out a living, the aliens decided to help them. They taught the humans how to build fires, make bows and arrows, raise animals, and the basics of farming. The humans were eager learners and listened tirelessly to the aliens, who were impressed by their curiosity, imagination, and ability to learn.

When it was time for the aliens to go (their ships needed re-fueling), they gathered the humans and threw a farewell party. The humans didn’t want the aliens to leave, because although the aliens had taught them so many new skills, they obviously didn’t have time to teach them everything. So the alien chief said, “Why don’t you guys ask us one last question, and we’ll do our best to answer it? Any question you wish. But we only have time for one.”

The humans talked among themselves: what could they ask the aliens? How to build a spaceship? What the hell was electricity? How to improve the irrigation system? And while all the adults were discussing all this, a young child at the front of the crowd—no one remembers if it was a boy or girl—decided to pose this question: “Sir, you’ve taught us how to make weapons and hunt, killing animals for food. But what happens if we use those weapons to kill a person??”

Everyone stopped talking. Until then, no human and ever killed another human. The concept did not exist.

“Well, child, that’s murder,” said the alien chief, “and murder is terrible.”

The child was still curious. “Could you explain a little more?”

“It’s very painful, and it’s very sad. It’s something only bad individuals will do, to rob, to avenge, to delight in the pain of others.” Then, in order to help the child further understand, the alien chief proceeded to tell the humans a folktale among their own culture, one about two brothers. The older brother was heir to their parents’ farm, and the younger brother killed the older brother for it. The murderous brother shot his brother through the heart with an arrow, stabbed his neck with a knife, and left him in a field to die. He did all this to get the inheritance he couldn’t have. “Sometimes good things, like inheritances, can happen to bad people, like murders,” said the alien chief. “Unfortunately, this is the way of the world.”

After hearing this story the humans were all silent, and the alien chief regretted telling it right away. But it was time to go, and so the aliens left.

The aliens visited again a hundred years later. By then, Earth had changed drastically. The humans were all living in their own walled and fenced communities. Their cattle and crops were firmly protected by people armed with bows and arrows, not to shoot at prey, but to shoot at other people.

You see, you have to be very careful with the stories you tell and the stories you listen to, because once a story is told, it can never be taken back.

The experience

I really liked the original version of the story, but I wanted to make my version “contemporary”—hence the sci-fi alien conspiracy theory stuff—and more casual, told like the story of Charm in King’s novel. I told this story to a friend while we were riding the bus, and she described it as “a mix of sci-fi and Aesop’s fable.”

I drafted the story here first. Upon returning, I realized I’d left out some finer details, including words that might have made the story more exciting. I also added words spontaneously in my tellings, such as describing the humans as “pathetic.” One listener, when she heard the story, also posed the question “Why would a kid who knew nothing of murder ask about murder?” so I had to fill in that (quite obvious) gaping detail by mentioning that he/she made the connection with hunting for animals. I also fleshed out the aliens’ story by giving it a more definitive ending. One thing I regret is forgetting to start with “I have a great story to tell you” as suggested in the prompt; instead I used something along the lines of “Would you like to hear a story?” I wonder if the opener would have changed the audience’s perception.

Storytelling was more difficult than I expected. I’m a creative writing major, so I’m used to fine-tuning my sentences before going public. I’m not the most collected speaker, so speaking smoothly was hard. However, I like gesturing, and I used hand motions to accentuate the violence of the fraternal killing. That was fun.

I wanted to be entertaining, but gee, being entertaining is hard. And Mark Twain agrees: “There are several kinds of stories, but only one difficult kind—the humorous . . . The humorous story is strictly a work of art—high and delicate art— and only an artist can tell it.”

When I googled “how to tell a story,” surprisingly, I found many business articles such as this one. I never connected something as “artsy” as storytelling to the commerce world, but now I can see it as a useful transferable skill.

Sorry for the extra-long post! And thanks for sticking to the end 🙂

Works Cited

King, Thomas. The Truth About Stories: A Native Narrative. Toronto: House of Anansi Press Inc., 2003.

O’Hara, Carolyn. “How to Tell a Great Story.” Harvard Business Review. Harvard Business Publishing, 30 July 2014. Web. 28 May 2015.

Twain, Mark. “How to Tell a Story.” About.com Education: Classic Literature. About.com, n.d. Web. 28 May 2015.

Zolfagharifard, Ellie. “Governments are HIDING aliens, claims former defence minister: Paul Hellyer urges world leaders to reveal ‘secret files’.” Mail Online. Associated Newspapers Ltd., 22 April 2015, updated 23 April 2015. Web. 30 May 2015.

Works Consulted

Paterson, Erika. “Lesson 1:3.” ENGL 470A Canadian Studies: Canadian Literary Genres May 2015. The University of British Columbia Department of English, n.d. Web. 28 May 2015.

The Purdue OWL. Purdue U Writing Lab, 2010. Web. 28 May 2015.

Prompt: Words. Chamberlin talks a lot about language, in particular the strangeness and wonder of how language works. Stories, he says, “bring us close to the world we live in by taking us into the world of words” (italics mine,1).  He describes learning to read and write as learning “to be comfortable with a cat that is both there and not there”  (132). Based on Chamberlin’s understanding of how riddles and charms work, explain this “world of words.” Reflect on why “words make us feel closer to the world we live in” (1).

—Dr. Erika Paterson, ENGL 470 Lesson 1:2

—

I’d like to begin by reflecting on how I learned to read words, which is a very difficult memory to conjure because I learned how to read at a very early age. I cannot remember a world where a physical thing could not be represented by a black-and-white graphic, and now I wonder how I would be perceiving the world if I’d never learned that…

I learned how to read in Chinese first and I think Chinese was easier for a child to grasp in terms of understanding the concept of reading. Chinese doesn’t use an alphabet or phonetic sounds; rather, characters are unique symbols that stand for a unique thing. Chinese characters are also derived from pictographs; for example, the character for “fire” actually looks like fire. This reminds me of my classmate’s Alyssa Ready’s first post about the importance of recognizing non-western symbols in literature: for western readers, a symbol is metaphorical and conceptual, but for non-western readers, symbols can be practical and conceptual at once. Indeed, “metaphor is the basic trick of language” and “[l]inguists used to say that every word was once a metaphor” (Chamberlin 163).

I learned how to read in English thanks to both the diligent tutelage of my mother’s flashcards and my own interest in reading. As a shy and imaginative only child, I loved reading because it could be done alone. Reading was a way to entertain myself and escape from everyday humdrum. After I learned how to “sound things out”, reading in English came easily to me. If I didn’t know a word, all I had to do was consult a dictionary.

Reading gave me agency. Gave me an individuality, an independence. Notice how many of these kids talk about how reading will help with their future career. Another example is a widely-circulated YouTube video on the power of words—changing how you say the same message can endow it more power.

Being able to read words gave me power: power to relate to those who didn’t live in my non-English-speaking household and power to explore worlds on my own with minimal adult help. Especially for children, who don’t have much power, this was a big deal.

Words connected me to both my non-English-speaking private life and my English-speaking public one. I have clear memories of things “lost in translation” too—there were certain concepts I learned in Chinese that I struggled with translating to English, and vice versa. Which created a sort of miniature culture-clash on the playground. There were things I could never really describe “properly.” To give you a sense of what I mean, here is a fun Lifehack list of words (and concepts!) not available in the English language.

I loved Chamberlin’s chapter on riddles the most, as I think it relates well with my experience of growing up with two languages. I learned early on that a character was “pure metaphor, the basis of all belief” (Chamberlin 160). And when I was introduced to the phonetic system and a language that described the world in a way completely different from the world in Chinese, I had to change my understanding of the world the way Chamberlin claims Homer did (161).

The magic of words lie in their ability to give power. Take away words, and you take away more than a child’s adventure. You can take away entire civilizations’ ability to tell their stories and express what they mean, what they really mean, and take away your own potential power to understand them.

*This goes longer than the post’s prescribed word count, but if you have extra time and more interest, may I direct you to my reply to Gretta’s comment (the first comment on this post), in which I describe in further detail the uniqueness of written Chinese in the presence of dialects. There is an analogous relationship here to oral vs. written subculture, as most Chinese dialects that are not Mandarin cannot be written, but are often fiercely—almost patriotically—protected against extinction by its speakers.

Works cited and consulted

Argane, Hiba. “Lost in Translation: 30 Words With No English Equivalent.” Lifehack. Lifehack, n.d. Web. 19 May 2015.

Chamberlin, J. Edward. If This is Your Land, Where are Your Stories? Finding Common Ground. Toronto: Vintage Canada, 2004. Print.

Gardner, Andrea. “The Power of Words.” Online video clip. YouTube. YouTube, 23 Feb. 2013. Web. 20 May 2015. (Citation format suggested by Purdue OWL because MLA guide doesn’t have one).

Grozdanic, Ajla. “Kids from around the World Tell Us Why They Love to Read.” Save the Children. Save the Children, 14 Feb. 2013. Web. 19 May 2015.

Paterson, Erika. “Lesson 1:2.” ENGL 470A Canadian Studies: Canadian Literary Genres May 2015. The University of British Columbia Department of English, n.d. Web. 19 May 2015.

Ready, Alyssa. “Hello world-This is me.” Alyssa Ready. The University of British Columbia student blogs, 13 May 2015. Web. 20 May 2015.

The Purdue OWL. Purdue U Writing Lab, 2010. Web. 20 May 2015.

As a British Columbian totem poles like these are a common sight. They’re pretty to look at, but how many of us know the actual stories behind them?

Heya, I’m Charmaine, and I’m about to embark on a storytelling tour of Canadian literature with ENGL470. (Join me on the ride and pitch a thought in the comment section once in a while?) I major in English Literature and Creative Writing, so reading stories (and writing ’em) constitute a large chunk of my life. I just came back from a year of doing co-op, so I’m super-excited to dip back into academia!

To be honest, when I think of “Canadian literature,” the first things that come to mind are the rather boring pieces I read in high school: like that Alice Munro story (“Boys and Girls,” I think) about the kids in the prairies skinning foxes and riding horses. The stories about “days of yore.” When my books arrived for 470, however, the abundance of (contemporary!) Native Canadian literature excited me. I think this (sub)genre is often ignored (in preference to authors like Atwood and  Munro).

I think it’s difficult to define what is Canadian literature because it’s difficult to define who or what is “Canadian” to begin with. Stereotypes like maple syrup and hockey don’t apply to many of us, especially to First Nations and children of immigrants like myself (I’m a second-generation Canadian of East Asian descent).

So I think it’s important to read widely when it comes to studying Canadian literature. It’s fair to read your share of Atwood and Munro, but we should also be aware of the Thomas Kings and the Joy Ogawas.

One thing I’m optimistic about this course is learning a more authentic, honest, portrayal of Aboriginal culture and experience through Aboriginal fiction written by Aboriginals. As a non-Aboriginal, the majority of discourse I hear about the First Nations experience is through media and non-Aboriginals, and I hesitate to attach much truth to those accounts. Most Canadians know that our First Nations folks face an array of challenges, but few of us know exactly what, how, or why these challenges happen.

Because of our ignorance, we tend to attach blame. Oh, it’s the Indian Act‘s fault. No, it’s the chiefs that are being unaccountable. (Who hasn’t heard of these claims?) We lump people’s experiences together and we also simplify and superficial-ize them. Which isn’t fair.

I don’t think there’s a surefire way to truly understand a person, or a group’s, experience when you weren’t there. But I think the closest way one can attempt to understand is through first-hand telling of stories, which is what I’m excited about for this class.

What do you think about when you think about Canadian literature?

Works Cited:

Hanson, Eric. “The Indian Act.” Indigenous Foundations. The University of British Columbia First Nations Studies Program, n.d. Web. 11 May 2015.

“Overview: Struggling to Escape a Legacy of Oppression.” Centre for Social Justice. The Centre for Social Justice, n.d. Web. 11 May 2015.

Paterson, Erika. ENGL 470A Canadian Studies: Canadian Literary Genres — May 2015. The University of British Columbia Department of English, 8 Jan. 2015. Web. 11 May 2015.

Schwartz, Daniel. “7 questions about First Nations accountability.” CBC News. The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, 20 Feb. 2013. Web. 11 May 2015.

Timms, Philip. Alert Bay Totems. 1900s. Vancouver Public Library, Vancouver. Wikimedia Commons. Web. 12 May 2015. (This is a Public Domain image via Wikimedia Commons)