Assignment 2:6, Q1 | Listen with Your Eyes
There are so many ways to read a story. This week, I was able to read Harry Robinson’s story “Coyote Makes a Deal with the King of England” four different ways: first, silently to myself; second, aloud to myself; third, listening as it was read to me; and fourth, reading it aloud to someone else. The first time I read this story (silently and to myself), I found myself rather confused. The unfamiliar syntax was tricky to parse, the shape of the story tough to follow. I naturally started to slow down the speed of my reading (which is usually fairly quick), as if speaking aloud in my head. This helped, but only marginally – I still found myself a little lost. The second time through, I read the story aloud to myself. At the end of this reading, I was still slightly befuddled, but I had found myself much more engaged in the story. The third time round, my partner read the story aloud to me. This time, the story was much easier to follow. I still struggled with some of the syntax, but I am much more accustomed to parsing unfamiliar spoken syntax than I am when faced with the same in writing. The flow of his speech was different than the flow of my own when reading aloud to myself, and this drew me in to the story. To be fair, this was my third time experiencing the story; however, at the end of this reading I, for the first time, felt I might have a grasp of the ideas it contained. Finally, I read the story aloud to my partner. I expected this to be easier; after all, listening to him read it to me helped me understand. However, I still found myself stumbling over a syntax that felt foreign. Despite this discomfort, I did find myself achieving a greater understanding – though my favourite way to read the story is still indisputably to have it read to me.
In his article “Godzilla vs Post-Colonial,” Thomas King slots Harry Robinson’s writings into a category he terms “interfusional:” a blending of oral and written literature within Native literature (186). In other words, Robinson is using an oral voice, informed by elements of oral literature, in a written medium. This effect relies heavily on syntax: the same syntax that tripped me up. King concludes that “…by forcing the reader to read aloud, Robinson’s prose, to a large extent, avoids [the loss of the voice of the storyteller], re-creating at once the storyteller and the performance” (186). Perhaps this is what I found so challenging: I was being guided by Robinson’s prose to become the storyteller myself, for a story which I did not quite comprehend in a syntax that was not my own. I fell into the trap of becoming wrapped up in parsing the syntax, in attempting to follow the shifting pronouns from “he” to “they” and back again. I feared that, by leaning into Robinston’s syntax and thus imitating his speech patterns, I would be disrespecting his voice when, according to King, that may very well have been his intent.
When I listened to the story being read aloud, I could put aside my worries and simply experience the story, letting the syntax wash over me. Despite the story being, as Wickwire put it, “too weird for words,” despite the foreign syntax, I was able to succumb to the story. When I attempted to read it myself, silently or aloud, I kept running up against a wall of questions in my mind. In many ways, this experience reminded me of reading Shakespeare. I can watch a Shakespeare play and understand the emotions and the story despite not comprehending each individual line of dialogue, but when faced with the script my mind attempts to unravel each unfamiliar phrase. The BBC recommends watching the play performed or reading it aloud to best understand Shakespeare; I think the same holds true for Robinson. And much like Shakespeare, perhaps once you’re able to understand the story as it’s told to you it will, in time and with practice, become easier to read it yourself. I think, in the end, it comes back to the idea of taking time to understand. Robinson himself said “It takes a long time. I can’t tell stories in a little while.” When reading silently, our brains frequently don’t take the time to examine each word, too busy cracking the code of the written language; as an example, consider this familiar internet meme. Listening to the story might let us take the time needed to better understand.
My grandparents would always play the same CD on summer trips with me. I don’t remember the singer, but I do remember the opening song: Sing a Rainbow. I remember delighting in the seemingly nonsensical lyrics, but now I think that maybe there was a kernel of wisdom in them: “Listen with your eyes, listen with your eyes, and sing everything you see.” If I can learn to listen with my eyes as I read Robinson’s stories, maybe I can find my way to overcoming the strange syntax and understanding the story.
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Works Cited
Andy Williams. “Sing a Rainbow.” YouTube. 5 November 2014. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bND0DSUiHNk. Accessed 3 Mar 2021.
“If Yuo’re Albe To Raed Tihs, You Might Have Typoglycemia.” Dictionary.com. https://www.dictionary.com/e/typoglycemia/. Accessed 3 Mar 2021.
King, Thomas. “Godzilla vs. Post-Colonial.” Unhomely States: Theorizing English-Canadian Postcolonialism. Mississauga, ON: Broadview, 2004. 183- 190. godzilla-complete. Accessed 1 Mar 2021.
Robinson, Harry. “Coyote Makes a Deal with the King Of England.” Living by Stories: a Journey of Landscape and Memory. Ed. Wendy Wickwire. 2005. Kindle Edition.
“Wild About Harry Robinson.” BC BookLook. 22 September 2012. https://bcbooklook.com/2012/09/22/essay-wild-about-harry-robinson/. Accessed 3 Mar 2021.
Wolchover, Natalie. “Breaking the Code: Why Yuor Barin Can Raed This.” Live Science. 9 February 2012. https://www.livescience.com/18392-reading-jumbled-words.html. Accessed 3 Mar 2021.
“You scullion! You rapscallion! Top tips for reading Shakespeare.” BBC. https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/articles/54r3nLryr01PNcLbMCjdjfM/you-scullion-you-rampallian-top-tips-for-reading-shakespeare. Accessed 3 Mar 2021.
Hi Magda!
As I was reading your account of Harry Robinson’s story, I was reminded of my own struggles to read through it. As I mention in my own post, I am not a fast reader. I tend to read at a speaking rate most of the time, so I didn’t feel the “slowing down” effects that others reported. But I did notice that I was paying a lot more attention to each line as it comes up. When reading through a paragraph it is sometimes hard to keep track of each idea as it comes up, but because of the spacing in Robinson’s story, it was easy to keep track of each thought as it is written on the line.
I was wondering if your and your partner’s interest in the story changed at all during this process? For myself I felt pretty fixated on the story reading it silently, if only to keep the flow of the story going, but when it came time to read out loud, I had very different feelings come up. I was a little embarrassed reading to my partner in a voice that wasn’t my own, but felt enthralled when it was my turn to listen. My partner on the other hand was not impressed with the story when she was listening, but appeared to have changed her mood entirely when it was her turn to read aloud. Did you notice any of these changes in mood and attachment when you and your partner took turns?
Side note: The version of “I Can Sing a Rainbow” that I remember from childhood was Fred Penner’s — https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_DV19d2dCkQ
Hi Zac!
I definitely noticed changes in mood/attachment while reading to vs listening to my partner! Like you, I felt somewhat uncomfortable reading in a voice so unfamiliar, but enraptured when listening. My partner reported he felt the same. 🙂 However, both of us are studying opera, so that likely has an effect on how we interpret stories when read vs when heard; as a matter of fact, I would imagine most people will experience stories in their own way, with some mediums being more effective (as your partner found).
Ah, yes!! I definitely recall a number of Fred Penner songs – thanks for reminding me! 😀
Hi Magda,
Great to read about your experience with this text. I love the connection you’ve made of how his is another example of needing to take time and listen in a new way. Your discussion of Shakespeare highlighted another reason why it can be difficult sometimes to make meaning of first stories, or to hear or read stories told in a way that is new to us. Fear!
When I studied Shakespeare in university there was lots of discussion of whether one should be experiencing Shakespeare or analyzing and breaking down the language of Shakespeare. Personally I think that at a high school level students should absolutely be experiencing Shakespeare (watching live or recorded performances), as opposed to dissecting language. At a university level, however, diving into the intricacies of language can be an interesting and enlightening challenge. What I found was that it was an experience full of fear for a lot of people. I think we are taught so often that there is a right and wrong way to understand something and when we don’t immediately get it, we assume we must be stupid. And we learn this over so many years that it becomes scary to sit and listen to (or read) something that is spoken in a way that is unfamiliar, and to trust that we may or may not find meaning.
Does this idea of fear resonate with you and your experience with this story?
Hi Laura!
I think you’re absolutely right – fear can be such a huge factor when tackling new experiences! And your point on how we are so frequently taught that there is a right and wrong way to understand things plays directly into the ideas Chamberlain discussed regarding the focus on dichotomies and the strange way stories manage to bridge them. Thank you very much for bringing this up! 🙂