2.6.1 “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 the story.”

In King’s article, “Godzilla vs. Post-Colonial,” King argues that the term “post-colonial” is not a suitable basis of critical analysis for Native literature. The term “post-colonial” is ethnocentric and suggests that colonialism is a gravitational centre in which Native literature revolves (King 185). King offers several terms that are more appropriate when approaching Native literature, and allows for the existence of narrative that doesn’t fit conveniently into the Canadian canon.

Associational literature aims to describe a Native experience that does not conform to the nationalist narrative of glamorizing or victimizing Natives (187). King argues that this form “provides a limited and particular access to a Native world, allowing the reader to associate with that world without being encouraged to feel a part of it” (188-9). The reader, not encouraged to feel a part of it, is able to re-evaluate the implications of the narrative in relation to their society. This form of story-telling differs from traditional European literature, which aims to garner the reader’s emotional investment and submerses the reader in the narrative. I would argue that metaphorically, the narrative has a stake on the reader, and vice versa.

Though Harry Robinson’s “Coyote Makes a Deal with King of England” deals with contentious land ownership, it does not aim to prescribe a guilt, another quality often found in associational literature (King 189). Further, Robinson’s narrative does not favour the climaxes or resolutions valued in traditional European literature. Coyote’s story doesn’t end neatly with, “and that’s how the world came to be”, rather it lets the reader take from it what they will. The divergence from a closed narrative echoes the ongoing process of the dialogue of land ownership and allows for the dichotomies and contradictions to exist in a complex situation.

King refers to the stories in Harry Robinson’s Living By Stories as interfusional, meaning a blending of oral and written literatures (186). The way that the story is written is irregular to what one would normally read on the page—the sentences are broken down into smaller segments, almost like poetry. These segments make room for pausing, when telling the story orally, and the repetition of words like “And” at the beginning of the line add a rhythmic quality to the narrative and serve to build momentum.

Robinson uses repetition throughout the story to reinforce his points with listener. For example, when Coyote is negotiating with the King, he says, “But that’s going to be your word from now ‘til the end of the word. We’ll never fight. Once you say that, we’ll never fight.” (72; emphasis added). He repeats the King’s promise to him that they will not fight, because he is trying to make peace, he is emphasizing the gravity of this promise.

Another unconventional point in Robinson’s narrative, is that time doesn’t follow a logical sequential order. When describing the passing of the kings of England, Robinson simultaneously invokes the passing of time. “They don’t finish ‘em. For a long time, and he die. And another one. Still the same. The third king, they never. The old one, that’s the four” (76).

The written word is Robinson’s way of reaching out to a reader more familiar with this format, while Wickwire works not to compromise the narrative voice of Robinson’s storytelling—one that drew her to him in the first place. Certainly, in re-working a narrative, it loses its integrity, it changes form, it becomes something else and it begins to adhere to the logic or form of the colonial narrative format. Just as the King in Robinson’s story asked the Indians to learn to read his story, we, as new listeners and readers, must learn to listen to Native stories in the way they were told.

Works Cited

“Aboriginal Rights.” Indigenous Foundations: First Nations and Indigenous Studies, University of British Columbia, 2009. Web. 29 June 2016.

“Coyote Thinks He is Clever.” Claire Niebergall, “2011 YoungCuts Film Festival Selection: How the Coyote Got His Cunnning.” When We Were Marks, 2011. Web.

Ginsberg, Allen. “Howl, Parts I & II.” Howl and Other Poems. Academy of American Poets. Web. 29 June 2016.

King, Thomas. “Godzilla vs. Post-Colonial.” Unhomely States: Theorizing English-Canadian Postcolonialism. Peterbough, ON: Broadview, 2004. 183- 190. Web. 29 June 2016. https://pennersf.files.wordpress.com/2010/10/godzilla-complete.pdf

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

2.4.2 “In this lesson I say that our capacity for understanding or making meaningfulness from the first stories is seriously limited for numerous reasons and I briefly offer two reasons why this is so: 1) the social process of the telling is disconnected from the story and this creates obvious problems for ascribing meaningfulness, and 2) the extended time of criminal prohibitions against Indigenous peoples telling stories combined with the act of taking all the children between 5 – 15 away from their families and communities. In Wickwire’s introduction to Living Stories, find a third reason why, according to Robinson, our abilities to make meaning from first stories and encounters is so seriously limited. To be complete, your answer should begin with a brief discussion on the two reasons I present and then proceed to introduce and explain your third reason from Wickwire’s introduction.”

Reading through peoples’ collected stories around their sense of home, I was interested to learn where everyone had lived, and how they came to be connected to British Columbia. As someone who has always lived in Vancouver, I did not have the experience of moving somewhere completely new and having to start my life over again. Though everyone had very different stories to tell of the places that they have been, here are a few commonalities that I have found while reading through blogs:

Home is not always a place.
Often we connect the word ‘home’ to the space in which we reside, but I have encountered living spaces that were less than welcoming. Sometimes you find your home in a person or an activity, or a deep bond that you share with a geographical space.

The concept of home is associated with deep feelings of belonging.
Often this sense of belonging is influenced by the people in one’s community- found through respect, common interests, or shared experiences. I am reminded by the pride often associated with being connected to certain places, and the tendency to feel defensive when our neighbourhoods are criticized. I am interested to see how our emotional ties to Canada will factor into our discussion, but I welcome this challenge.

Thank you for sharing your stories.

Write a short story that describes your sense of home and the values and stories that you use to connect yourself to your home.

“But where are you really from?”

I am often approached with this question having previously answered “Where are you from?” with, “From here (Vancouver)” As if I answered the original question incorrectly. I am of Asian descent, but to say I am from anywhere other than here would be incorrect.

I travelled to China with my mother and sister when I was ten, and it was completely foreign to me. I was quickly overwhelmed by the humidity and the density of Hong Kong, and could not imagine living in rural China, with its abundance of mosquitoes and lack of toilets.

Growing up, I remember my mother telling me stories about growing up in a rural village in China. She told me of times when it rained, that the water would run so high that she could not make it to school. She told me about raising animals in her yard, and eating them for dinner on special occasions. She told me about moments she spent reading by lamplight, for lack of electricity. These are my mother’s stories.

She was introduced to my father, a first-generation Asian-Canadian, through a relative. They wrote each other letters with the help of various relatives who helped my father translate his words into Chinese, which he, to this day, is not fluent in. They fell in love, and my mother immigrated to Vancouver to start a new life, so the story goes. This is my parents’ story.

My father grew up in a Vancouver Special in East Van. My sister and I grew up in that same house with a traditionally Chinese mother and an Anglicized father. We grew up eating both lasagna and traditional Chinese meals for dinner, we watched Global News in the evening alongside TVB dramas and martial arts movies, and we went to Chinese school on the weekends but spent the summers at tennis camp or at Scouts. This is our family’s story.

In The Truth About Stories: A Native Narrative, Thomas King says, “Everyone knew who Indians were. Everyone knew what they looked like. Even Indians. . . [But] I didn’t know how I wanted to represent Indians (53).” My relationship to race have been similar, and I am continuing to learn how to discuss my relationship to my race that do not isolate other experiences.

A few semesters ago in a literature class, my literature professor asked whether any of us could read a pre-translated version of a poem in Pound’s ‘Cantos’. I felt a dozen heads turn in my direction. I struggle with speaking and writing Chinese, and am often confronted by a certain shame by not meeting peoples’ expectations of my ability. For this reason, I felt particularly empathetic towards Francine Burning’s discussion around Tokenization.

“[I]t is crucial to acknowledge the ways in which color functions socially and it’s relationship to a person’s social position, and one way that it functions acutely is in a person’s experience of discrimination.”
– What I Learned In Class Today: Aboriginal Issues in the Classroom

I’ve been asked before whether I have encountered racism, and when I answer, “yes” sometimes people are shocked. It’s rare, but nothing quite beats the experience of hearing, “go back to where you came from.” These adverse experiences have contributed to a hesitation in acknowledging my racial background. In addition, it cannot be ignored that the Western narrative has been privileged in the media over those of minorities. I feel that it is important to remind ourselves that though each of our experiences are legitimate, we must consider how our individual backgrounds and identity colour our way of seeing.

I am still learning how best to identify with my background. In the past, my response to the “but where are you really from?”question was often met with indignation because it implied that I did not belong, and reminded me of the pains of ‘otherness’. I realized a few years ago that it is more of a linguistic fumbling than an attack on my racial background. Nowadays my answer is, “My mom is from China, and my dad was born here.” I understand that there are intersections in one’s relationship to home, and that it is a fluid concept- it is not wholly spacial or racial, or even singular. I am curious to see how with increasing globalization, travel, and media on the web, one’s experience with their notion of home will change.

Works Cited:

Burning, Francine. “Session 1: Francine Burning, 21 February 2007.” What I Learned In Class Today: Aboriginal Issues in the Classroom. Web. 06 June 2016.

Brown, Brené. “Brené Brown on Empathy.” The RSA, Royal Society for the encouragement of Arts, Manufactures and Commerce. Web. 06 June 2016.

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