Page, Connor. “Pausing on the West Coast Trail.” 2020. JPEG.
Hello, and welcome. My name is Connor, and I’m happy to be joining you for an exploration of Canadian literature. This concept of “Canadian literature” is no doubt one that we will scrutinize before long. What, after all, is “national” or “Canadian” about the verbal artefacts under consideration? How do they express, forge, or contest a tradition or an identity? And what values are here implied by “literature” and the “literary,” by the written word and lettered learning?
In ENGL 372, we will likely puzzle over these and other questions, considering the intersections between Western and Indigenous storytelling traditions, literature and orature, myth-making and nation-building, narrative and identity.
First, though, a story:
Some years ago, I and some family members set out to hike the West Coast Trail, a 75-km trek along the coast of Vancouver Island. Parks Canada describes (and markets) the trail as a route of overlapping stories, of Huuay-aht, Ditidaht, and Pacheedaht habitation and, later, the shipwrecks, survivals and rescues of colonists (have a look at Parks Canada‘s account here). We began hiking the day the trail opened for the season (May 1st) and experienced it in all its muddy glory.
By the time we reached Nitinaht Narrows my uncle was having serious troubles with his knees, and we made the decision to abandon our hike and leave about half the trail unwalked. The way to do this was to get passage with the Ditidaht ferryman across Nitinaht Lake to the Malachan reserve, from which point he would drive us to where we’d left our car.
After crossing the lake by motorboat, we crammed into the back of the ferryman’s pickup. We bounced for hours over pothole-ridden logging roads. Along the way, he kept up a continuous stream of storytelling, and we heard about communal canoe journeys, gatherings, ceremonies. This was not the story I expected when I began the trail–a story of detour, turning aside, incompletion, unforeseen encounters.
Last year, I read Dylan Robinson’s recent book Hungry Listening: Resonant Theory for Indigenous Sound Studies (here is an informative interview with Robinson about his book). In discussing perceptual attitudes within the context of colonization, Robinson also thematizes a certain turning aside. To him, “hungry listening” is a paradigmatic settler/colonial positionality, a programme of consumptive, appropriative, assimilating perception (50). His argument spoke powerfully to my background as a music student and to my history as a lifelong non-Indigenous inhabitant of Indigenous lands. What, Robinson asks, are the ethical and political implications of the very ways we listen, see, read, and create, access and circulate knowledge? What relationships do our perceptions form with the land and its co-inhabitants?
The important thing, perhaps, is that hungry listening, with effort and awareness, can be critiqued, slowed, blocked, distracted, and turned in other directions. So my hope in this course and its reading is to be open to delay and distraction, to surprises and challenges, to old and new stories. I look forward to attempting this in your good company.
Works Cited
D’Souza, Aruna and Dylan Robinson. “Hungry Listening: A Conversation Between Aruna D’Souza and Dylan Robinson.” Independent Curators INTL, Vimeo, https://vimeo.com/465553646. Accessed 15 January 2020.
Robinson, Dylan. Hungry Listening: Resonant Theory for Indigenous Sound Studies. University of Minnesota Press. 2020.
“West Coast Trail: Hike of a Lifetime.” Parks Canada, https://www.pc.gc.ca/en/pn-np/bc/pacificrim/activ/SCO-WCT. Accessed 15 January 2021.
Hi Connor!
I really liked your quote about hungry listening, as well as your story detailing your return trip to you car in the back of the pick-up. Through my recent studies of Indigenous Literature I believe that the hungry listening you spoke of, and the natural aspect of story telling in any situation you described about your car ride embody a good portion of Indigenous culture.
I can remember being told stories in Elementary school by a visiting Elder, and being so enthralled by his voice and the stories he told — you could say I gobbled them up! Indigenous story telling is so unique, or at least I have yet to experience anything that compares to its beauty. It is interesting to be reading stories rather than listening to them, however, I look forward to taking this journey with you.
Hi Cayla,
Thanks for your good message and for sharing your experience. I have some similar recollections of experiences in early school days, and I think I remember being, like you, fascinated by such stories and myths. (As a side note, you might enjoy this performance that I mentioned elsewhere of “Beowulf” by the early music specialist Benjamin Bagby, who’s reimagining Old English poetic traditions (https://www.bagbybeowulf.com/).) That’s perceptive and, I think, very Robinsonian to ackowledge an impulse to “gobble up” Indigenous content. And I think (despite my analogy to “Beowulf”) that your recognition of Indigenous practices of storytelling as “unique” is probably quite valuable as well: Robinson would want to preserve something of that strangeness or even otherness in opposition to easy assimilation.
Thanks! Looking forward to blogging with you over the term.
Hello Connor, it is great to meet you! The question you pose “what, after all, is “national” or “Canadian” about the verbal artefacts under consideration?” is a thought provoking one, to say the least, and one I am eager to answer over the course. Defining stories and literature as ‘verbal artifacts’ is an excellent way to begin to rethink our definitions of ownership.
I have always wanted to venture out onto a mulit-day hike; the idea of spending that amount of time with nature has always been appealing. The description from Parks Canada makes the idea of such a journey all the more wonderful! I am curious about your journey: did you learn anything about yourself? How did your experience add to your own story?
A final area of your introduction which drew my interest was the notion of “hungry listening”. Without reading the context of the term within the book, my first thought was imperialism, and consumerism. Colonization is partially a result of the wants of countries with the power to take from others; “hungry listening” makes me think of ‘more, more, more’.
I found a eBook version at the UBC library, and skimmed through the first chapter. It seems to be quite an interesting read, and I am eager to look at the other chapters! One thing I noticed was similarities to chapter two of Chamberlain, particularly when Robinson is discussing the term “settler” (47).
You have a fantastic open attitude regarding the course, and I am looking forward to joining you in this learning!
Thanks, Samantha; it’s great to meet you! I’m really more like you than not in that my hiking aspirations or imaginings are well beyond my actual experience–I’d be lying if I depicted myself as an expert with dozens of expeditions under my belt! But I did feel in that journey that there’s something in getting into another rhythm of life. And then one does come to appreciate things like one’s boots not being wet and full of sand. A walk like the West Coast Trail also, of course, immerses you in the incredible splendour of these lands.
I think you’re right on the money regarding “hungry listening”: as you say, it suggests imperialist consumerism and exploitation as well as a demand for more stimulation, resources, gratification. I do recommend the book–mainly because it challenged me. It also does offer a more recent reflection, as you suggest, on some of the themes Chamberlin focuses on. I think Robinson would probably appreciate Chamberlin’s interest in ceremony (though he might question some of Chamberlin’s kind of universalizing tendencies [maybe?]).
It’s a pleasure to meet you and I’ll look forward to interacting with you some more as we blog on!