Assignment 3:7- Power in a Name: Allusions in Green Grass, Running Water

In the first ten pages of Thomas King’s Green Grass, Running Water, there has already been numerous names mentioned in the text. King does not shy away from using allusions profusely throughout the novel, so it will be interesting to explore his choices. Allusions are powerful tools in literature, and part of that power comes from the association with how names impact our stories. We pay more attention to names than perhaps many other elements of a story, and that is because names become our connection to memorable images. Names are one of the easiest things to remember from a story since they convey the identity of the characters in a tale. In the first ten pages, some of the names King chose to use are iconic ones often related to Western culture. The question is, what is the reason for choosing them, and what is King trying to convey through the particular images evoked by these names? Starting from the beginning of the tale, we have the name, Coyote.

Coyote

Coyote’s presence marks the start of the story, where there was nothing but water, and Coyote. Already a well-known trickster figure in Indigenous stories, the name brings about an image of both mischief and wisdom. According to Flick’s notes, they are also responsible for creating the world that we exist in. This allusion sets the tone to the story, giving readers a feeling of what is to come, and that is a tale that will not be straightforward and easily understood. Coyote’s character is one that King imitates throughout his story, a character that leaves fragments of a whole picture that we as readers seek after. The dialogues that Coyote has never allows for a sense of completion or resolution, which demands the readers to pay more attention to his role in the story.

GOD/dog

A humorous approach to intersecting two names that hold very different imagery. The word GOD is associated with an all-powerful being, a creator, while dog is small and insignificant. In Flick’s notes, it mentions that GOD is a contrary to the dog’s point of view. Although God, in many instances, is regarded as the most powerful being, at the beginning of the story he is simply a loud character that Coyote engages with. Therefore, the image that King creates with the dialogue between Coyote and GOD subverts the reader’s expectations reside with the allusion.

The Heroes of the West: Lone Ranger, Hawkeye, Ishmael, and Robinson Crusoe

After the brief introduction of Coyote and God/dog, we come across characters trying to tell their creation stories. Their names allude to the famous, iconic figures of the West. Flick explains the role of each character in her notes, and the four had surprisingly one thing in common: a companion that is considered an Indian or a savage. Lone Ranger was a ranger of the Western front, accompanied by his faithful friend, Tonto. Hawkeye represented a connection between two worlds, of the West and the Native. His best friend, Chingachgook, was also an Indian. Ishmael had an intimate friendship with Queequeg, a cannibal, and Robinson Crusoe befriended Friday, a savage that he rescued from the cannibals.

I can’t help but sense a bit of satire coming from King with these iconic names spread across the pages. Why are they chosen to be the ones discussing creation stories? Their roles in their Western tales are noble. They are the characters who were able to befriend the Indian or the savage of the story, showed them a better way of living, and receive loyalty from their companions who represented the role of the “Other”. What made them heroic in their own tales was not only the fact that they were brave, respected characters, but also the fact that they were able to befriend those who were viewed as outsiders, to the point where these faithful “savages” would gladly give their lives for these heroes because of the heroes’ superior nature. Does this give them the privilege of telling their creation stories, then? King’s intention of alluding these iconic names could be a call to attention to the problematic themes underlying these famous stories.

Works Cited

“Coyote – Native American Trickster, Creator, And Sacred Animal Who Can Deceive but Also Give Wisdom.” Ancient Pages, 28 April 2017. Web. 20 March 2019, http://www.ancientpages.com/2017/04/28/coyote-native-american-trickster-creator-sacred-animal-can-deceive-also-give-wisdom/

“Fenimore’s Natty Bumppo.” James Fenimore Cooper: A Literary Pioneer. Web. 21 March 2019, http://xroads.virginia.edu/~ug02/cooper/bumppo.html

Flick, Jane. “Reading Notes for Thomas King’s Green Grass, Running Water.” Canadian Literature, vol.161/162. 1994.

King, Thomas. Green Grass Running Water. Toronto: Harper Collins, 1993. ebook.

Kowalczyk-Harper, Hannah. “The Useful Allusion: 6 Reasons to Use Literary Allusions in Your Writing.” The Writing Cooperative, 4 Jun 2015. Web. 20 March 2019, https://writingcooperative.com/the-useful-allusion-6-reasons-to-use-literary-allusions-in-your-writing-1fb6b3954b83

Morgan, David. “The Lone Ranger: A Western Icon.” CBS News. Web. 21 March 2019, https://www.cbsnews.com/pictures/the-lone-ranger-a-western-icon/

Assignment 3:5- Creation Stories

What are the major differences or similarities between the ethos of the creation story or stories you are familiar with and the story King tells in The Truth About Stories?

Having grown up as a Christian, I am very familiar with the story of Adam and Eve, and it is also the creation story that I believe to be true. However, before I came to Canada, the creation story that I have known was very different from the biblical tale. Although it is one that I deemed to be a myth, it’s also one that I cannot help but love, and one that holds a special place in my heart as a part of my cultural background. Thinking about it again also brings back the memories of my mother sitting by my bedside, and telling the story to me in her soft voice as I snuggled under my warm covers. The warmth of the story resonated with the warmth I felt back then, and perhaps that’s what makes it so unforgettable.

This is a beautiful story; a love story.

Nüwa was the mother goddess, who created mankind and everything that roamed the earth. She loved her creations dearly, and was loved in return by the people. However, when warfare ensued between the gods, disaster rain down upon the people. The sun and moon disappeared, cracks appeared in the sky and the earth was flooded, and death plagued all things of the land. Seeing this, Nüwa went down to earth and began to repair the heavens. Using the boulders formed from the sun’s power, she put the skies back together, piece by piece. Then, she killed a giant turtle from the sea, and lifted its remains to cover the last piece that was missing. She worked endlessly, day and night, and after the work was done, she was overcome with exhaustion. After Nüwa died, and her spirit was transformed into the new sun and moon, and new life on the earth.

This story, told to me by my mother, made me feel the warmth of Nüwa’s love for mankind, who she saw as her children. She alone shouldered the burden of repairing the heavens, and it was her sacrifice that allowed the people to live on.

It is a wonderful tale, but a solitary one. This is what greatly differentiates King’s creation story from the one I know. Charm is not alone in the creation of the world, and what I love the most is the last passage where it says:

The animals and the humans and the Twins and Charm looked around at the world that they had created. Boy, they said, this is as good as it gets. This is one beautiful world. (King 20)

Unlike the biblical story and the tale of Nüwa, the world came into being through the collective efforts of Charm, the Twins, and the animals. There was no single superior being who stood above their creation, instead, Charm and her friends stood as a part of the world they had created.

There are many creation stories that differ vastly in the nature of the tale. While all are focused on how mankind came to be, the differences can bring out what a culture deems to be important and hold as core values in their beliefs. This article that I found includes a video that was put together as a project to explore the importance of origin stories of the Ktunaxa people of Canada. In the article, it states that these stories “inform and support the Ktunaxa ways of knowing, their world views, their history pre- and post-contact, and their connection to the geography of the Ktunaxa territory.” This shows that creation stories carry more than just an attempt at explaining how mankind came to be, they also carry the deeply-rooted traditions and the way-of-life in a culture. In the video, the tales told by the people exemplified how animals are an essential part of their lives, and how the world they’ve come to know has been shared by people and animals since the beginning of time.

It is also interesting that because creation stories are often oral stories, the same tales can be so different depending on the storyteller. The origin story of the Haida people, the Raven and the First Men, is told in different ways here and here. Of course, these are also different from the first story that sprang from the mouths of the People, with many elements lost in translation. I wonder if this kind of loss is significant for creation stories. If so, in what aspects does it affect the story told, if the core message of it is still present? Is it okay to retell stories that we might have not heard all the parts of, and have perhaps inserted our own narratives into?

Works Cited

Gahr, Tanya Laing. “Creation Stories- The Origins of Culture: An Exploration of Ktunaxa creation stories.”  Indigenous Corporate Training INC. 23 June 2013. Web. 9 Mar 2019. https://www.ictinc.ca/blog/creation-stories-the-origins-of-culture

King, Thomas. The Truth About Stories: A Native Narrative. Peterbough: Anansi Press. 2003. Print.

McWilliams, Barry. “Raven finds the First Men.” Eldrbarry’s Raven Tales. 1997. Web. 9 Mar 2019. https://www.eldrbarry.net/rabb/rvn/first.htm

“The Beginning of the Haida Gwaii World.” Oral Traditions. Web. 9 Mar 2019. https://royalbcmuseum.bc.ca/exhibits/bc-archives-time-machine/galler07/frames/oralhist.htm

Assignment 3:2- Spoken Versus Silent

For this blog assignment I would like you to make some comparisons between Harry Robson’s writing style in “Coyote Makes a Deal with the King of England” and King’s style in Green Grass, Running Water. What similarities can you find between the two story-telling voices? Coyote and God are present in both texts, how do they compare in character and voice across the stories?

In reading King’s Green Grass, Running Water, there are undeniable similarities between Robinson’s style and the writing style in King’s work. The influence that Robinson has on King, as Blanca Chester observes, is illustrated through the dynamics between the different types of stories that exist within the book. During assignment 2:6, I remember reading Tony Bae’s blog, where he mentioned finding the balance between oral and written stories, toeing that thin line of not being too colloquial or literary. I wonder if Green Grass, Running Water succeeded in finding that balance. While the story had a flow to it which made reading it in silence a smooth-sailing experience, it is also fit for reading out loud due to its simplicity. By simplicity, I meant the way it echoed Robinson’s straightforward style of story-telling. Unlike many literary works, it is not dominated by figurative language which are designed to evoke imagery in reader’s imaginations. That is an interesting difference between stories meant for oral-storying telling and those meant to be read. Stories which rely on orality do not contain much figurative language, unlike written literature, which is often overflowing with them. This is perhaps due to the role of the story-teller for each mode of story-telling. Images that are meant to be evoked by spoken stories often have the help of the atmosphere created by the story-teller’s mood and tone. They don’t necessarily have to profusely give out many descriptions in order to express a feeling. Rather, the story-tellers have the ability to create images in the listener’s mind through softening or raising their voices, talking in different tones, or slowing and speeding down the pace of the story. All of these can replace the purpose of using many words to describe a certain scene or emotion in the novel, and it is also the reason why oral story-telling provides such a different level of intimacy between the story-teller and the audience. It forms a connection between person to person, instead of person to paper. Of course, literary works also allow the story-teller and the audience to form deep connections and words, if used well, can create powerful images and emotions. However, that sense of connection stems more from the audience themselves, instead of something that is passed on from the initial story-teller. In other words, oral story-telling allows the story-teller to share and pass on pieces of themselves, forming connections between the people, while written stories allows the audience to make initial discoveries about parts of themselves, forming a connection between texts and people. These are not mutually exclusive definitions, and the functions of oral and written stories can definitely overlap.

The differences in King’s story and Robinson’s Coyote Makes a Deal with the King of England, lies within the roles that Coyote and the narrator take on. In Robinson’s tale, Coyote is a prominent character, and his exchange with the King makes up for most of the story. In King’s writing, while Coyote is an important character, he gives way to the other narratives and remains in the background. This now brings us to the role of the narrator in either stories, which is quite different. This interesting article talks about the role of the narrator in visual and written story-telling. The author mentions at one point that “narrators make their stories personal by providing meaningful reflections on their experiences.” This caught my attention because it made me think about who the narrators were in both King’s and Robinson’s stories. That is when I realized the absence of a narrator in Robinson’s tale, and that’s the characteristic that makes it so important as a story meant for oral story-telling. We, the readers, are supposed to take on the role of the narrator, and fill in the gaps left by Robinson’s purposefully broken syntax and imperfect grammar. King’s story, however, provides us with a narrator that, while still simplistic and colloquial, does not give the need for us to step into the role.

The article also peaked my interest in the differences between oral story-telling and visual story-telling. Visual story-telling is often used in today’s world as marketing purposes, but how about art as a form of story-telling? What are some limitations that it might have, and what are some way it might transcend what oral stories are able to provide for the audience? Furthermore, when we combine oral and visual, how much power can a story hold in terms of expressing a message?

Works Cited

King, Thomas. Green Grass Running Water. Toronto: Harper Collins, 1993. Print.

Robinson, Harry. Living by Stories: a Journey of Landscape and Memory. Ed. Wendy Wickwire. Vancouver: Talonbooks, 2005. Print.

Wagenstein, Oded. “The Importance of Visual Storytelling in Photography.” Photographylife. Web. 03 March 2019, https://photographylife.com/the-importance-of-visual-storytelling-in-photography

“Who’s Telling the Story? The Importance of Narrators in Contemporary Fiction.” Writing about Writing, 7 Feb 2013. Web. 03 March 2019, http://ucwbling.chicagolandwritingcenters.org/whos-telling-the-story-the-importance-of-narrators-in-contemporary-fiction/

Assignment 2:6

In his article, “Godzilla vs. Post-Colonial,” King discusses Robinson’s collection of stories. King explains that while the stories are written in English, “the patterns, metaphors, structures as well as the themes and characters come primarily from oral literature.” More than this, Robinson, he says “develops what we might want to call an oral syntax that defeats reader’s efforts to read the stories silently to themselves, a syntax that encourages readers to read aloud” and in so doing, “recreating at once the storyteller and the performance” (186). Read “Coyote Makes a Deal with King of England”, in Living by Stories. Read it silently, read it out loud, read it to a friend, and have a friend read it to you. See if you can discover how this oral syntax works to shape meaning for the story by shaping your reading and listening of the story. Write a blog about this reading/listening experience that provides references to both King’s article and Robinson’s story.

Rhythm of the story created by syntax

Coyote Makes a Deal with the King of England was a story that was very difficult to read in silence. As I made my way down the page, I found myself opening my mouth on instinct to read out loud. It wasn’t the lines of dialogue that prompted me to read it out either, it was simply the lines that told the story, lines such as:

When I seen him in 1917, and I was seventeen at that time.

When I seen him, he was kinda way older than me now.

See, I am eighty years old now.

But the time when I seen ‘em in 1917, he’s more than eighty.

Pretty old. (Robinson 81)

As King writes, Robinson “develops what we might want to call an oral syntax that defeats reader’s efforts to read the stories silently to themselves, a syntax that encourages readers to read out loud” (186). There’s an insistent rhythm that beats throughout the story, created by the line breaks, grammar, and diction used. It is interesting to compare this rhythm to the rhythm of a text meant for written story-telling, which may have a flow to its sentences that is compatible with a reader’s silence. However, Harry Robinson’s story does not have this kind of flow. Instead, the syntax is extremely choppy and jarring at times due to the inconsistent grammar, but that is what gives readers the desire to read aloud. When we speak, we do not always use correct grammar or complete sentences, and our diction is often colloquial. Robinson’s story successfully grasps the similarities, creating the comforting familiarity between speech and writing. There is also frequent repetition throughout the story:

God sent the Angel to Coyote.

Sent the Angel.

Do you know what the Angel was?

Do you know?

The Angel, God’s Angel, you know.

They sent that to Coyote. (Robinson 66)

Repetition is often used in written literature as a technique to emphasize the significance of a particular idea. In Robinson’s story, however, while repetition still may be used for emphasis, it also parallels the way we speak. We don’t always repeat ourselves for the sole purpose of emphasizing an idea, but simply because we are gathering our thoughts in the middle of our speech before continuing on.

Assumptions of the reader and how it affects story-telling

King discusses the destructiveness of assumptions in the context of the term “post-colonial” literature, in which he states that assumptions are dangerous because they offer a premise that is “churn[ed] out of our imaginations to help us get from the beginning of an idea to the end” (183). In other words, assumptions offer us complete, self-imagined stories that are hard to break away from once we have latched onto them, even in the face of disagreeing factors we might come across. It is hard to remain an unbiased reader and we form opinions as we read based on our previous knowledge, ideas, and judgement. To state a very obvious point, the way I told Coyote Makes a Deal with the King of England must be vastly different from how Robinson told it. I lacked the understanding and connection to the story that he had, and words on the page cannot capture the tone, the mood, and the emotions which Robinson used to tell the tale. Although it is a story created to be told orally, I am still a reader, and the only way I could tell the story was to have my own understanding of it first, then have it come out of my mouth. This article defines simply the differences between story-telling and writing, and includes a quote by Mark Twain on the importance of pauses in telling a story. As much as there are line breaks in the story to guide me, the pauses that I choose to take reflects my own understanding—or, assumption—of what the story means. Hearing one of my friends read it out loud is yet another way that the story is told, different from my own. Their comprehension, confusion, or initial thought upon reading the story all contributes to their experience as a story-teller, and mine as a listener. Even though we are telling the story orally, as it is meant to be told, our assumptions as readers have changed the story altogether.

Concluding thoughts

Another example I can think of regarding this topic is the reading of poems. Poems hold both similarities and difference to Robinson’s stories, as they are written to be read out loud also. However, the function of Robinson’s stories leans more towards being told orally, while the poems can be functional being read out loud or in silence. One of my favorite poems is Morning in the Burnt House by Margaret Atwood. My experience of reading it in silence, reading it out loud, and listening to others read it varied greatly. I found two readings of it here and here, which are also very different from each other due to reader’s interpretations and assumptions.

Works Cited

Atwood, Margaret. “Morning in the Burnt House.” Poets.org, 1995. Web. 19 Feb. 2019, https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/morning-burned-house.

Callahan, Shawn. “Story-telling versus story writing.” Anecdote, 21 Aug. 2006. Web. 19 Feb. 2019, www.anecdote.com/2006/08/story-telling-versus-story-writing/.

King, Thomas. “Godzilla vs. Post-Colonial.” Unhomely States: Theorizing English-Canadian Postcolonialism. Peterbough, ON: Broadview, 2004. 183- 190. Web. 04 April 2013.

Lindberg, Mark. “Morning in the Burnt House- Margaret Atwood.” Mark Lindberg. Youtube, 7 Mar. 2013. Web. 19 Feb. 2019, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wv2xM9bbOzU.

“Morning in the Burnt House by Margaret Atwood.” The Prometheus Report. Youtube, 8 Sep. 2016. Web. 19 Feb. 2019, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8uGgtShgUzo.

Robinson, Harry. Living by Stories: a Journey of Landscape and Memory. Ed. Wendy Wickwire. Vancouver: Talonbooks, 2005. Print.

Thank you to all those who shared your stories with me: Katrina Lu, Sean Dyer, J.T Bae, Maxwell McEachern, Suzanne Rae Cobb, and Dana Tru

Shared Thoughts

Home is a dream

Katrina’s short story about a group of friends searching for the sea was a beautiful read. Her writing allowed me to feel the characters’ strong desire to see the clear blue ocean, all the while experiencing the bliss of having a shared a dream with the people around you. The characters have all encountered many difficulties, but what gave them the strength to push on was this brilliant, vivid image of the ocean they dreamed of. Home, in the same way, is an image that promises comfort, safety, and happiness. For some of us, it may be something we have already grasped. For others, it remains a dream that we chase after through self-reflections, through confusion, and through conflicting emotions. However, no matter how many complexities we may associate with our definition of home and where our home is, the dreamlike image of it hangs in the back of our minds somewhere—a place of rest we are constantly striving for.

Home is a word that carries immense weight

Reading Tony’s and Suzanne’s stories made me realize that I was not the only one who struggled with this assignment. They had the courage to share their very personal stories, and I am very grateful to have had the privilege of being an audience. Home is a word that has a positive connotation, and is often associated with delightful emotions. This is also the way I approached my sense of home while doing assignment 2:2. I searched for those feelings of joy and happiness, and was very bothered when I didn’t find much. I didn’t realize that it was okay if the word home reminded us of things that may not always be positive. It may bring us bittersweet thoughts, worries, or complex emotions. But whether positive or negative, home is a word that is laden with memories, and we carry it with us wherever we go. It is the part of us that we are unable to detach from, and the weight of it acts as a reminder of who we are.

We experience home with all of our senses

Dana’s and Sean’s blogs both contained wonderful, sensory images of their homes. Dana described the smell of her Grandmother’s bread, crayons, and the sound of rusted, squeaky swings. One of Sean’s descriptions of his home is “a perfect bite of a peach”, and how the peach juices should run down your chin, or it will be considered to be a bad peach. For someone who has never been to Penticton, even I can have a clear image of how delicious those peaches might be, and I was struck with craving for some good-quality fruit. Reading their blogs, I realized that the things I miss about China, my first hometown, are all in my senses. I miss the grey mornings and dusty streets when my mom would send me to school on her bike. I miss the sound of loud traffic and the ringing of bike bells as everyone tries to rush to work or school. I miss the smell of greasy street food coming from tiny, unsanitary vendor carts that my mom would never let me eat. All these descriptions may not give the most pleasant image, but these are the feelings I long for the most when I think of home.

A difference in perspective

As for different perspectives, this passage from Maxwell’s blog intrigued me:

For me, being from a town called Wahnapitae made me special and different. I moved to Peterborough and needed an identity I told teenage self. Wahnapitae is a small town, “deep” in northern Ontario. This meant that I was a small-town kid with a heart for the outdoors. I had to like country music, drive a four-wheeler and wear cowboy boots and jeans. The small town also meant that I was grittier hockey player. I grew up in old hockey arenas and coaches wanted me to hit and force my body along the boards.
That is what home meant to me.

It’s a common notion that the home environment shapes the way we are, but in Maxwell’s case, he describes his identity as something that is consciously constructed because of his environment. It may have been a misreading on my part, and perhaps it was not what he meant, but I thought it was interesting because I have never been able to do that. Even though I had wanted to, I was never able to construct my identity to fit into the context of my home. Back in Tianjin, China, I was not the “good daughter” or “smart student” I should have been and here, in Canada, I had a lot of trouble fitting in with my other Asian-Canadian classmates. Therefore, I feel quite fascinated by this blog and the way home and identity is presented in it.

Commentary

A song blew up last year in the Chinese community. It was a collaboration between a well-known American-born Chinese singer and Malaysian hip-hop artist. The song, titled “The Stranger in the North,” is set in the context of a time when groups of Chinese would leave their homes and move up North to search for jobs in order to provide for their families. After revisiting it, I feel like the song embodies my three thoughts after reading my peers’ blogs: home is a dream that we chase, home carries the weight of our memories, and home is an experience that engages all our senses. The lyrics spoke of the misery and struggle in the North, the worries and hopes for those at home, and the lonesome dream of being able to return home one day. The music video shows various clips of a place I miss very much, and watching them, I feel like I could smell and taste the images.

Here is the song, and there are English subtitles already provided in the music video.

Lastly, I would like to end some questions. When I said home is a word that carries immense weight, I also meant weight as in the obligatory feeling that home should evoke a positive emotion. What if it doesn’t? What if home reminds us of negative memories, and are we responsible to search for a new home that no longer gives us the “right” emotions? If the word home is not associated with feelings of comfort, safety, and rest, then does it lose its meaning?

Works Cited

Bae, J.T. “Home.” UBC Blogs. 30 January 2019. https://blogs.ubc.ca/golgiapp/2019/01/30/home/?fbclid=IwAR0KpbBcdYeOE_T5y3uzsMezdWut1OLzCgUaq4gkw3mVYxtYh_A2E351TXU

Dyer, Sean. “Penticton: Peaches, Beaches, and the Sylix Nation.” Sean Dyer’s Canadian Literature Blog English 470. UBC blogs, 28 January 2019. https://blogs.ubc.ca/seanlitblog/2019/01/28/penticton-peaches-beaches-and-the-syilx-nation/?fbclid=IwAR0DUFMpEmgPX97xukol1cvtKzUeWrMTQmQKsFsd7uZt8twixVVq5d_wFoA

Lu, Katrina. “Assignment 2:2-The Terrifying but Beautiful Sea.” UBC Blogs. 29 January 2019. https://blogs.ubc.ca/katrinalu470/2019/01/29/assignment-22-the-terrifying-but-beautiful-sea/?fbclid=IwAR1c38KwH8OmJ44Aywest3tg7Pq7vIYucxmfUPgBomdQLOYoBsjGP1Qv5fY

McEachern, Maxwell. “Grocery List of Home.” Maxwell McEachern’s ENGL 470 Canadian Literature Blog. UBC Blogs, 29 January 2019. https://blogs.ubc.ca/mjmengl470/2019/01/29/43/?fbclid=IwAR1kIISH-usc8MWHDIz5e4DGthVoR-20hiZz3pPTL9Ysr5CgC-kvZKk09kk

Namewee. “Stranger in the North.” Youtube.com. Youtube, 4 March 2017. Web. 3 February 2019. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qIF8xvSA0Gw

2019. Cobb, Suzanne. “Rooms and Buildings and Squares of Land.” Reading, Writing, Listening-Canadian Literature. UBC Blogs, 29 January 2019. https://blogs.ubc.ca/suzannecanlit/2019/01/29/rooms-and-buildings-and-squares-of-land/?fbclid=IwAR27311A-Xt2pk5l5cn8GQKmsPkVmAucVo8xUpRTQeS5bjdO38zY9az2fNg

Tru, Dana. “Assignment 2:2-My Home Story.” Dana’s CanLit Blog. UBC Blogs, 28 January 2019. https://blogs.ubc.ca/canlit470dana/2019/01/28/assignment-22-my-home-story/

Assignment 2:2

In Search of Home- Ramblings

When I first looked at the criteria for this blog, I thought it was going to be a breeze. A short story on the home and values, topics that had been discussed countless times in my English classes. But as I sat down to write, my mind remained blank, and as I kept staring at the ghostly white glow of my empty word document, a sense of panic slowly crept up behind me. I didn’t know what to write. What is my sense of home, and the values and stories that connect me to where I am?

Maybe I am overthinking this definition. Home is where I feel a sense of belonging, right? Where I feel the safest, the most comfortable, and the most content. I do have all that. I have my home to come back to after a long day and the people I love to share joyous moments with. Therefore, it confused me when I realized that I didn’t have a very strong sense of home when I thought about where I am. I think this might also be partly due to my lack of experiences away from home. I haven’t traveled much—the only times being two-day trips with friends and a five-day tripe to Korea. Maybe I will experience a stronger sense of what home means to me once I am away from it, once I’ve gone to unfamiliar places that didn’t provide the comfort that I am constantly blessed with.

I feel like I am always on the chase for that feeling of home, and it is a feeling that is not always there. My sense of belonging, I realized, is not constant. Is it supposed to be? I don’t know. During my road trip to Banff, I had the privilege of witnessing the beauty of the Rockies. I was able to stand and watch as rays of sunlight came through the clouds that surrounded the mountains, and it really looked like heaven had opened up. I remember during that moment, I wanted to stay there forever, fit myself into that scenery somehow and be a part of it. Is that the sense of home and belonging that I was looking for?

Vancouver is a beautiful city and I love it with all my heart. It has everything lined out for me in terms of comfort and familiarity. Here, I can find all the things that the “Chinese part of me” sometimes crave, from food to clothes to entertainment. There is nothing more I can ask for, and I am extremely thankful. But sometimes, I would look at a street in Richmond, and the way leaves fell next to the greyish, old buildings would remind me so much of the streets back in China. I would be struck with a sense of longing to go “home”, where I haven’t been for year now. That is a strange, strange feeling, and one that I don’t quite understand. I’ve grown up mostly in Vancouver, so why does a part of me still think of home as my family’s little apartment back in TianJin? I’ve made so many memories in Canada, and everyone I hold close to my heart is right beside me, so I don’t understand the longing I would have for a different place, somewhere that is no longer familiar to me.

To help with my confusion, I looked up a video where it asked people to define what home meant to them. After watching it, the large variety of answers gave me comfort. It seemed that while space is very important to some people’s sense of home, others also look to someone or something that brings them a sort of feeling. And, like me, it seemed like a few of the people hasn’t quite grasped it yet either.

Lastly, I would like to end my ramblings with my messy definition of home and what my values are. Adding to the definition of home as a sense of belonging, I think that home also encourages the feeling of love. We feel at home with the people and things that we love, and that can be found in the spaces we inhabit, the movies we watch, and the books that we read. I felt that when I read All that Matters in one of my second-year English classes. It was a book that told of an immigrant family in Canada during the early 1900s. I did not experience Canada at that time nor relate with the events of the story, yet with every page of the book somehow made me feel a connection. When I read it, I felt a sense of home and belonging that I could not explain. Perhaps it was his language, perhaps it was the theme that I identified with, but what I was certain about was getting close to that feeling I was always chasing.

Here is a brief article on the background of the author who made me feel at home with his writing.

Works Cited:

“Wayson Choy is Taking Reader’s Questions.” The Globe and Mail. 11 May 2009. Web. 1 January 2019.

“What does ‘Home’ Mean to you?” Youtube.com. Youtube, 27 April 2009. Web. 1 January 2019.

I have a great story to tell you.

At the beginning there was no evil. Only goodness and peace marked the endless days. There was no darkness, no war, no death. The sky was always blue, and the trees remained evergreen. Everyone who walked the land treated each other with fairness, and all was well.

But there was one man who felt strange in this world of grace. While there was no grief or sadness, he also found no happiness or satisfaction. Instead, an emptiness tugged at his heart. It was not painful—just a gaping hole in his chest, an abyss that needed to be filled.

He searched and searched aimlessly until one day, in the green fields beneath the bright sun, he came to an answer. What would satisfy him was not being another good man in this good world. He wanted to be the kindest, the most righteous man who stood above the rest.

So, he gathered many around him in the fields and hosted a contest. Whoever does the scariest, most unsightly thing will win. He stood upon a makeshift podium and looked down at the people.

One by one, out of curiosity, they began to act. There were some who took off their clothes, some who made unpleasant faces, and some who laid down and contorted their body into uncomfortable positions.

But he needed more. He knew that if he wanted to appear as the most glorified man, those under him must be in their most repulsive nature.

Then the crowd suddenly parted, and an unfamiliar man came through. He had grey hair and lines on his face.

Allow me to try, he said.

Instead of doing various things with his body, he simply opened his mouth and began to speak. He told a story about destruction and death, slaughter and murder, about a world that burned until there were only ashes.

And each thing he told became the truth, until the sun disappeared behind dark clouds and the green fields became red, and the man on the podium was staring at only bodies in a lake of flames.

You win, he said. For the first time, he felt fear. But this isn’t so good. We can live on without such things. Take it back now, take it back.

Standing in the flames, the grey-haired man shook his head. It is too late. The story has been told.

Reflections

The most difficult thing I had to grapple with telling the story orally versus written was the difference in the audience. As I told the story to my family, I was aware of their movement and expression throughout the process. Although it shouldn’t fundamentally change the story, I found myself playing with the pace and the tone of my voice as I continued to speak. When I was writing, there was no such changes from beginning to end. In a way, I was my own audience. I was fully immersed in my story alone and how I wanted to tell it.

Thomas King’s statement, “So you have to be careful with the stories you tell. And you have to watch out for the stories you are told” (10) was a very interesting warning. The fact that he felt the need to make it a warning means that stories have power, and stories are dangerous. It is already a known fact that stories have power, but why are they dangerous? Thinking back to Chamberlin’s If This is your Land, where are your Stories, where he explored the connection between reality and imagination. If what King said stands true, that is “the truth about stories is that that’s all we are” (2), then every story we hear and tell, even the imagined ones, will eventually become reality as they give life to our thoughts, beliefs, and identity. When we tell stories, orally or through writing, I feel that there are moments when we truly believe in them, even under the circumstances when we know they are false. I think that one of the most important things for a storyteller is how believable they are, and that will not carry through to the audience if they do not believe their own stories in the first place.

Works Cited

King, Thomas. The Truth About Stories: A Native Narrative. Peterbough: Anansi Press. 2003. Print.

Lesson 1:2

Assignment 1:3- If This is Your Land, Where are Your Stories?

Write a summary of three significant points that you find most interesting in the final chapter of If This is Your Land, Where are Your Stories?

Contradictory Truths

Chamberlin has time and time again shown his fascination with the notion of contradictory truths—how it is “troubling” (221) but at the same time, necessary. He illustrates this notion using the story of how the changes to one of the river valleys came about. One of the truths was that the changes were brought by the rage of the valley spirit, the grizzly, and the other truth was the scientific explanation of an earthquake. In the end of Chamberlin’s recollection, he emphasizes that “[b]oth, for [the Girksan People], are true” (221). It is a confusing idea to acknowledge two contradictory truths, and I was bewildered by why Chamberlin seems so interested in portraying the importance of this. Elif Shafak’s TED talk, titled The Revolutionary Power of Diverse Thought, also touched upon the significance of embracing diverse perspectives. Although the two topics are different in what they want to convey, Shafak’s words, “In the face of high-speed change, people long for familiarity, and when things get too confusing, many people crave simplicity,” helped me, in some ways, understand Chamberlin’s passion for contradiction. To have more than one truth means to have more than one perspective. Just like his example of painting a ship in the twilight. If only one truth could exist, we might only get a grey ship with twenty-seven portholes. However, because of another pair of eyes gazing upon the same scenery, we have the privilege of witnessing the ship in tones of pink and green. Embracing contradictory truths may be frightening in an age where simplicity and a fast pace is essential, but it may also bring about beauty and depth to matters we may otherwise overlook.

Ceremonies of Belief and Disbelief

According to Chamberlin, we are always telling stories, even in ways of history, math, and science, subjects we consider to be facts and knowledge. In this section, he raises an interesting point of how “the deconstruction of our narratives” helps us “maintain our sense of what we are doing and why” (234). In bringing “disbelief to bear on our beliefs, [we] recognize their interdependence” (235). The fact that belief and disbelief is joined by the word ceremony suggests an indisputable link between the two ideas. In definition, ceremony means a grand performance of some sort, with the idea of celebration. What is it that we are celebrating? I think it may be the blurring of lines between imagination and reality. To be able to accept both belief and disbelief, to put aside the innate desire of leaning towards one or the other and instead stand in the “common ground”. These are some of the things that ceremonies allow us to do, and that in itself is worthy of celebration.

Borders

It is interesting that while Chamberlin emphasizes on the notion of accepting contradicting truths, he also emphasizes the importance of recognizing the existence of borders. This means that he is not suggesting that reality and imagination, belief and disbelief should meld seamlessly together, but that even in recognizing the clear separation, we are able to accept both at the same time. Chamberlin’s story is about finding common ground. However, common ground cannot be found when there is no distinction in the first place. I mentioned Elif Shafak in the first point about contradictory truths and her statement on our fear of complexity. To deny the existence of borders does not mean we welcome contradictory truths or thought, instead it is a continuous resistance against diversity, and an attempt to simplify matters. Therefore, it is important that we make the effort to recognize borders and accept the complexity that they may bring.

To end my blog, I thought it was interesting to think about the assimilation of Indigenous People through the use of classrooms. There have been many stories about the cruelty of stripping away Indigenous identity and forced cultural assimilation in residential schools. Thinking about this in the context of this blog, the classrooms acted as place that rejected all three of these points Chamberlin deemed to be important to finding common ground. They were places which feared complexity and vouched for the singlemindedness of assimilation. As a result, they also erased the recognition of borders between cultures, as well as abandoned the ceremonies of belief and disbelief.

Works Cited

Chamberlin, J. Edward. If This is Your Land, Where are Your Stories? Finding Common Ground. Toronto: Knopf Canada, 2003. Print.

Shafak, Elif.  “The Revolutionary Power of Diverse Thought.” Ted, Ted, September 2017. Web. 18 Jan. 2019. https://www.ted.com/talks/elif_shafak_the_revolutionary_power_of_diverse_thought#t-712724

Crey, Karrmen. “Aboriginal Identity and the Classroom.” Indigenousfoundations.arts.ubc.ca. 2009. Web. 18 Jan 2019. https://indigenousfoundations.arts.ubc.ca/aboriginal_identity__the_classroom/

Hi everyone and welcome to my blog post! My name is Anna and I am a fourth-year literature student at UBC. I was born in Mainland China and came to Canada with my family at the age of eight, so I guess you could say that I was raised in Canada. At the time when I left China, however, I was old enough that a part of me had already identified with the Chinese culture. Growing up, I’ve always liked to read, but my love for literature didn’t emerge until my high school years. It was then that I came to realize how much impact a book could have on someone, and how much of myself had been built around the stories that had crossed my path since I was young.

This course will give me an opportunity to explore difference mediums of story-telling, from voices that are in the shadows or gradually disappearing from our narratives. Sometimes the most powerful stories are not necessarily told by books, or films. Photographs, for example, can carry the weight of people’s lives within a small frame and in this technological age, stories can travel faster than ever through various sites and forums. All you need is to ignite a spark of interest within the audience, and new world of information can open up at their feet in a matter of seconds.

Despite my love for reading, I often feel that the number of stories I know is minuscule, and my perspectives are horribly limited. Through the use of blogs and comments in this course, I hope to step away from the comforting, familiar corner of stories I’ve collected for myself, and explore ones that are told by different voices, striving to be heard. As a Canadian citizen, I am ashamed to say that I do not know much about the lives and stories of the Indigenous Peoples.

One of the articles in Huffington Post mentioned Trudeau’s speech during the celebration of Canada’s 150, saying, “We recognize that over the past decades, generations, indeed centuries Canada has failed Indigenous Peoples.” However, what does it mean to come to this recognition? What are the actions that can follow once stories have been heard? These are some of the questions that I would like to explore throughout this course with everyone.

Works Cited

Nelson, Jimmy. “Gorgeous Portraits of World’s Vanishing People.” Ted, Ted, Oct. 2014. Web. 11 Jan. 2019. https://www.ted.com/talks/jimmy_nelson_gorgeous_portraits_of_the_world_s_vanishing_people

Rabson, Mia. “Respect Indigenous Peoples Who Don’t Want to Celebrate Canada 150: Trudeau.” Huffington Post, 30 June 2017. Web. 11 Jan. 2019. https://www.huffingtonpost.ca/2017/06/30/respect-indigenous-peoples-who-dont-want-to-celebrate-canada-15_a_23010031/?utm_hp_ref=ca-canada-first-nations