There is wonder inherent in words. They are wonder-full because they are representative of the concepts and images that they describe and yet they are not those things. Words therefore exist in a liminal space. In Chamberlin’s investigation of language and stories he situates words in the intersection between reality and imagination. Words are factually based and yet they are not reality. Just as the word cat is a “cat that is both there and not there” the words in story convey facts that operate outside of reality, in the imaginary realm, so to speak (132).
Chamberlin explains that “in a riddle, it is language that gives, while the world stays just as it is…in a charm, it is the world that changes” (239). This definition applies to words within a broader context. Words operate as riddles in that they “highlight the categories of language and life” in their representation of concepts. And yet they also function as charms by “collaps[ing]” the same “categories of language and life” that they symbolize (239). Words thereby occupy a unique position for they are tools to recount concepts that lay in the intersection between reality and imagination.
Life is full of in-betweens. Waking and sleeping, adolescence, pregnancy, being affianced, some may even say grief is a transitional phase. There are the facts that we know about each of those phases. Yet some things that happen during the in-betweens seem more imaginary than factual. When the facts fall short we turn to stories. Stories; through their use of the riddle, charm, factual, nonsensical aspects of words can propel the reader/listener/teller into an in-between place where the complexity of the world can be satisfactorily addressed. The fairy stories of childhood “present experience in vivid symbolic form…the truth [is] exaggerated and made more…fantastic…in order to comprehend it” (Lurie 359). A comfort, clarity and understanding can be obtained through story that is rarely accessed by other means. In the world of words, the intersection between reality and imaginary, the story receiver is well positioned to deal with all that is unclear about life. Just as dreams are vehicles for working out the complexities of day to day lives, stories employ the conscious and subconscious in a unique way, thus enabling a higher understanding of the topic at hand.
My parents enrolled me in French immersion from kindergarten to grade 6. The French world of words I learned occupies a separate space in my mind. There were words that I understood for the representations they were. I understood their meaning in much the same way that I understood English. Yet there were some aspects of French that remain, very firmly, in the in-between place in my mind. The place where magic happens. We would sing “O Canada” every morning at my French immersion school. I must have learned the words phonetically because it won’t do for me to try and repeat the song to you by focusing on the meaning of the words. When I sing O Canada in French I need to focus on the sounds and the feelings they give me. How certain verses feel in the mouth as they flow into the next one. Presumably, as a child, the words didn’t make sense to me so I gave them a new story. Both of my parents speak English. I grew up in a very anglophone household. However, there are times when I can’t find the words in English to convey the experience I wish to convey.
The crux of what Chamberlin says about the world of words lies in his discovery of the “something that has to do with wonder…a sense of mystery that comes to us with startling clarity…with reasonings that come as revelations” (120). There is so much about human experience that cannot be understood from facts. You eat your first grape and say “it doesn’t taste the way I imagined it would.” It is the experience of tasting that grape and then telling the story of that first taste that allows the intersection of reality (what the grape tasted like) and imaginary (how it felt to taste that grape). The complexity of the world of words is overwhelming. Where else can truth, nonsense, riddle, charm, contradiction, ceremony, lies, reality, imagination intersect seamlessly and in such varied ways.
I recently happened to catch a documentary/interview with Paul Simon on CBC Radio 2 for the 25th anniversary of his album, Graceland, that he collaborated on with South African artists including Ladysmith Black Mambazo. Much of what they discussed connects with Chamberlin’s writing about home and homelessness. The song Homeless is one of the most political songs on the album as it deals with the homelessness enforced by Apartheid. A Q&A with Joseph Shabalala, the leader and lead singer of Ladysmith Black Mambazo, may be found here. The song Homeless really tells a story even when you don’t understand the language being spoken. The following story about the writing of the song Homeless appeared in Glide Magazine:
Inspired by Ladysmith’s music, Simon wrote a simple couplet: ‘Homeless, homeless, moonlight sleeping on a midnight lake.’ He then recorded a simple version and sent it to the group. Shabalala listened repeatedly. Though excited when recording began, the group struggled to create a vocal arrangement their first day in the studio. Stressed, they prayed and practiced that night in their hotel room. Shabalala confessed to the band that he had been confused about how to approach the recording and simply encouraged them: ‘…let us try to do what we know. Just give them what we know…, then they will give us what they know.’ Later that night the group created the arrangement we know today. The next day when they performed it for Simon he immediately approved (Moore).
Works Cited
Chamberlin, J. Edward. If This is Your Land, Where Are Your Stories? Finding Common Ground. Toronto: Vintage Canada, 2003. Print.
Irving, Cathy. “Paul Simon’s Graceland.” CBC Music. CBC, 29 Dec. 2013. Web. 17 Jan. 2014.
Lurie, Alison. “What Fairy Tales Tell Us.” Folk & Fairy Tales. Ed. Martin Hallett and Barbara Karasek. Peterborough: Broadview Press, 2009. 359-367. Print.
Moore, Hunter. “25 Years of Paul Simon’s Graceland.” Glide Magazine. Glide Magazine, 19 Oct. 2011. Web. 17 Jan. 2014.
MusicSpaceChannel. “Paul Simon Homeless HQ.” Online video clip. Youtube. Youtube, 13 Sep. 2013. Web. 17 Jan. 2014.
Robbins, Li. “Q&A: Ladysmith Black Mambazo on Paul Simon’s Graceland at 25.” CBC Music. CBC, 4 Jun. 2012. Web. 17 Jan. 2014.
Thank you Lauren for a most thoughtful and interesting read – I will leave the commentary to your fellow students.
Hi Lauren,
It is so funny that I read your blog post after I posted mine. I did question 4 and defining home. I have loved Lady Smith Black Mambazo since I first heard Graceland. I was a lot younger when it first came out ( Cough Cough 14 years old) but something really struck me about it. I posted a video on my blog showing a live version of “Homeless.” You are correct that you can not really understand all of the words, but in watching their actions, and hearing the tone and meaning they put into the lyrics, you get a feel for the struggle their people went through. If you look at the physical words on paper, they would mean nothing to us, but the performance gives those words meaning. We may not be able to understand their words, but we can understand their feeling and meaning through their performance.
I really enjoyed reading your post!
Hi Jenny,
How fun that we both thought of Ladysmith Black Mambazo. I think that speaks to the gravity of “Homeless” and how easy it is to connect to it. I agree that there is something about music that can transcend language barriers. Maybe it is because the music appeals to us on a different level. Maybe it engages us on various different levels, thereby engaging multiple levels, the way that Chamberlin suggests in If This is Your Land, Where are your Stories?.
It’s lovely to think that there are so many different paths of understanding. I enjoyed reading your post too!
Thank you for commenting.
Hi Lauren,
My parents are from Ghana (West Africa) and they speak Twi (Ch-wee). Though I can understand it I can only speak a few words and phrases. You brought up that “there are times when I can’t find the words to convey the experience I wish to convey,” Twi is a very expressive language and your reflection reminded me how many expressions in this language (and most likely many more) can’t be conveyed the same way when looking for the English equivalent.
Chamberlin talks about the word home as the centre of contradiction. “It is a place where what we have in common is neither true or untrue, a place where we come together in agreement not about what to believe but about what it is to believe” (240). Ghana is a country with strong religious roots; when I went to visit family there a few years ago it was interesting to me that many people identified with their religion so sternly. With that being said most Ghanaians (especially in the villages) speak of Earth as a place they inhabit only temporarily, after death is when you are truly home (in Heaven). Because of this in Ghana there are celebrations of death, where the mourning takes place in the weeks prior, the celebration is all about community and involves dancing, singing and food. This is in contrast to most of the funeral ceremonies that place in the Western world.
Work Cited:
Chamberlin, J. Edward. If This is Your Land, Where Are Your Stories? Finding Common Ground. Toronto: Vintage Canada, 2003. Print.
Hi Samual, just wanted to let you know I have traveled to Ghana, twice now, with the global studies students I teach on the Semester at Sea Voyage – what a fascinating country. And yes it is interesting to observe the heightened sense of religious devotion, especially considering it is “outwardly” Christianity that Ghanians are so devoted to. Mind you, I did meet people selling special potions to ward off the devils and witches — they even had photographs of people (all women, interestingly) who they identified as witches and devoted to the devil. Yes, a fascinating place to visit. Thanks.
Hi Samuel,
Thanks so much for sharing. I don’t know much about Ghana. Religion is an interesting thing though. I went to a Mennonite high school in Winnipeg, even though my family isn’t Mennonite and we were fair-weather Christians, at best, venturing to our suburban United church every now and then. It was a bit of a culture shock to suddenly be immersed in culture that saw the world in a very different way from the way I did. Strong religious roots, indeed.
I like the idea of Earth being temporary. I wonder what that says about our time here. Celebrations of death sound interesting too. Sometimes I think the idea of reincarnation is incredibly appealing because not only is it cyclical, like much of the natural world is, it implies a continuity that I find promising. It’s fun to wonder.
Lauren, I love your description of learning French by focusing on the sounds and how they made you feel. It makes the song seem tactile (a heartbeat quickened, or a furrowed brow at a confusing lyric, or a swell of emotion).
And the description of how ‘Homeless’ came together is such a great example of the common ground that Chamberlain references (“If This is Your Land”, 239). LBM and Simon told their stories in their own way, and created a new story separate from (and I’d say greater than) the constituent parts, a confluence of Him and Them.
But it was this sentence that grabbed me: “the song Homeless really tells a story even when you don’t understand the language being spoken.” I think this might anticipate some of the things we’ll be looking at in Lesson 1:3 (taking the story out of the text).
Last night it occurred to me that I when I want to sing out loud, I almost always put on a song in a different language (that I don’t remotely speak). I think this is partly because I’m such an unreasonably bad singer, so tone deaf that if the words are in a different language, it’s not like I’m going to get any of the words right, so I’m a bit more free to just unabashedly belt it out.
Like you, I thought about how these songs still tell a story. This song (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oH99236dh1M) tells a story of driving through Connemarra in Ireland in 2009. This song (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u7OY0boScEU) tells a story of my wedding. But is there actually any text left in the lyrics? For me, I’d say there is no text, because I while I can read it I can’t understand it. So this could be an example of taking the story out of the text. The Capercaillie song (first link) could be about someone dying in a car accident; but this wouldn’t tell my story of driving through Co. Galway or Co. Mayo. There is a story irrespective of what is actually being said.