Write a blog that hyper-links your research on the characters and symbols in GGRW according to the pages assigned to you. Be sure to make use of Jane Flicks’ GGRW reading notes on your reading list.

I have chosen pages 166 – 176 in the 1993 edition of Green Grass, Running Water for this assignment. Every time I read this section, I am struck by the complexity and subtlety contained within King’s writing. These chapters explore the relationship between Eli Stand Alone and Karen and the harmful effects of the Western genre, before transitioning to focus on Portland and Charlie Looking Bear in Hollywood.

Eli Stand Alone and Karen

This chapter begins with Eli Stands Alone reading a Western novel. As Jane Flick notes, Eli’s name is reminiscent of Elijah Harper, the man “who blocked the Meech Lake Accord by being the standout vote in the Manitoba legislature.” (150) Similarly, Eli is taking a stand against the forces that want to build a dam on his property and tear down his mother’s house. He is refusing to move or give in to the demands of Clifford Sifton and, much like Harper, is demanding that First Nations be consulted on the fate of their lands.

In this section, Eli is enjoying a quiet night alone in his mother’s house, trying to pass the time with a Western novel. Even before getting into the story, he can accurately predict the direction the plot will take. The white woman and the Indian will fall madly in love, but end up torn apart by the novel’s end. They will not be allowed to sleep together because “Western writers seldom let Indians sleep with whites.” (166) Either way, these characters will not be allowed to have a happy ever after.

Interspersed with Eli’s reading are flashbacks to his relationship with Karen, a white woman he met while studying at the University of Toronto. The realities of their relationship provide an interesting comparison for the fictive representation within the Western novel. Of all the mixed relationships portrayed within GGRW, this is perhaps the least offensive one. Yes, Karen seems to “love Eli at least partly for his Indianness” (Hoffman, 129) and she does whisper that he is “her Mysterious Warrior” (coincidentally the title of the Western) one night in bed, but overall their relationship seems fairly healthy.

However, this chapter illustrates that every relationship between whites and First Nations is influenced by the harmful stereotypes perpetuated in Westerns and other pop culture sources. In the end, King chooses to end Karen and Eli’s romance with tragedy by killing Karen in a car crash. Eli, despite hoping that the novel would turn out differently from every other Western, ends up throwing the book away in disgust.

The Mysterious Warrior

The name of the Western that Eli is reading and Charlie Looking Bear is watching on TV. This story is “a composite of Western films” in which “the title alludes to The Mystic Warrior, a television movie based on Ruth Beebe Hill’s Hanta Yo.” (Flick, 158) This novel attempts to accurately portray the Sioux culture, yet ultimately ends up contributing to “the Plains Indian myth” (Simons) and igniting outrage and protest from Native American groups. This is the story that the Four Indians are attempting to “fix” in GGRW.

The De Soto

When Eli and Karen make their trip back to Alberta for the annual Sundance, they do so in a De Soto car. Jane Flick’s reading notes state that “like so many American cars this is named for an explorer, Hernando De Soto.” (Flick, 158) This Spanish conquistador wrought cultural havoc throughout the Americas and is known for “discovering” the Mississippi River.

During the drive, Eli “liked being behind the wheel of a De Soto” and observes how the car “flew along the roads, floating over the landscape like a bird in flight.” (168) However, once the car leaves the paved asphalt road, it begins to behave strangely.  On the gravel road it “lurched and wallowed through the potholes” and pitched “forward on its nose, as if it had been shot.” (168) Much like its namesake, the car left behind a visible path of destruction, in the form of “a huge, towering dust plume” that “rose off the road into the night sky.” (168) There are also mentions of Eli stopping the car to let it “cool down” after the rough journey. Interestingly, De Soto died of fever after making his storied voyage across the Mississippi River.

Another interaction to notice is Norma’s reaction to the De Soto once Eli and Karen pull in to camp. Upon seeing the car, she “looked at the De Soto for a moment, shook her head, and went back inside.” (169) Norma is a pillar of native stability and advocate for tradition. Her apparent dislike of the De Soto could stem from her mistrust of Western forces of modernity, forces that Eli seems only too happy to embrace.

Four Corners

The name of this seedy establishment is an ironic allusion to the Four Corners site where Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, and Utah meet. The number four is not only an important symbol in this novel, but for native populations as a whole. In real life, Four Corners is located in a remote part of the tribal lands of Navajo Nation. In the novel, it is also located in a remote part of the city, yet the similarities seem to end there. The Four Corners is a burlesque club with a Pocahontas strip act. Portland Looking Bear takes a job as a background dancer here in hopes of being “discovered.” It is a smoky club with a sticky floor and a pungent smell (175). The “rich cultural associations” (Flick, 158) that this site has in real life are ironically contrasted with the crude depictions of First Nations culture taking place at the strip club.

Works Cited

“25 years since Elijah Harper said ‘no’ to the Meech Lake Accord.” CBC News, 11 June 2015, http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/manitoba/25-years-since-elijah-harper-said-no-to-the-meech-lake-accord-1.3110439.

“Clifford Sifton and his policies.” CIC, 1 July 2006, http://www.cic.gc.ca/english/resources/publications/legacy/chap-2.asp#chap2-2.

“Discover Navajo Nation homepage.” Discover Navajo, http://www.discovernavajo.com. Accessed 18 Nov. 2016.

Flick, Jane. “Reading Notes for Thomas King’s Green Grass Running Water.” Canadian Literature, pp. 161-162. (1999). Web. Accessed 18 Nov. 2016.

“Genre – “The Western.” YouTube, uploaded by Stephen DaVega, 19 Oct. 2009, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lNHLkcRcazQ.

“Hernando de Soto – Mini Biography.” YouTube, uploaded by BIO, 8 Jul. 2013. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NDH_pB6DzNY.

Hoffman, Elizabeth. “MacGyvering Pop Culture: Blending Traditions in Canada.” American Indians and Popular Culture, vol. 1, 2012, pp. 128-129. Web. Accessed 18 Nov. 2016.

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

Simons, Anna. “Perpetuating an American Stereotype.” The Harvard Crimson, 20 March 1979, http://www.thecrimson.com/article/1979/3/20/perpetuating-an-american-stereotype-pbfbirst-there.

Webber, Will. “The Four Corners Monument is a simple, unique curiosity.” The New Mexican, 31 Dec. 2014. http://www.santafenewmexican.com/outdoors/the-four-corners-monument-is-a-simple-unique-curiosity/article_d6727a19-ef8d-50cc-b781-655876088cad.html.

6. Find three examples of names that need to be spoken aloud in order to catch the allusion. Discuss the examples as well as the reading technique that requires you to read aloud in order to make connections. Why does King want us to read aloud?

During my reading of Thomas King’s Green Grass, Running Water, I came across multiple names that gave me pause initially. Some looked familiar, while others needed to be repeated in my head and out loud before taking on a greater meaning. Here is a list of three such examples:

1. Dr. Joe Hovaugh – We are first introduced to Joe by his full name, Dr. Joseph Hovaugh. The allusion did not immediately strike me, and I processed his first and last name as two separate entities. It wasn’t until page 38 that I noticed the connection within his name. Here he is in conversation with Dr. John Elliot:

“Yellowstone,” said Dr. Hovaugh.

“Joe…Joe we’ve talked about this.” (38)

Seeing the abbreviated version of the first name visually in front of the latter half of his name helped me catch the allusion. Paying attention to the oral dialogue between characters was also an important part of the puzzle, and this helped me notice that the doctor’s name was a reference to “Jehovah,” the English translation of the Hebrew word for God. In the novel Dr. Joe is an authority figure running the hospital. While he has a title of authority, he seems out of touch with the realities of the hospital and comes across as a sad and slightly neurotic man in his quest to track down the four escaped Indians.

2. Sally Jo Weyha and Polly Hantos – These two names are part of a list of actors who Charlie’s parents are acquainted with in LA. They belong to a group that is “waiting in the shadows of the major studios, working as extras, fighting for bit parts in Westerns, playing Indians again and again and again.” (153) The allusions behind these names was not difficult to catch. Saying them out loud confirmed to me that Sally Jo Weyha is Sacagawea and Polly Hantos is Pocahontas. I found the context in which these characters are presented to be interesting. Both of these women have been pigeonholed into specific roles throughout history, especially Pocahontas. They are both examples of stereotypical portrayals of Indigenous women, and they both have had trouble breaking free of these stereotypes.

3. Eli Stands Alone – While this name is not as phonetically interesting as the other two examples, I found the symbolic significance noteworthy. Eli leaves the reservation to go to university in Toronto, only coming back many years later after the death of his mother (and significant other). Once back on the reservation, he finds that his mother’s home is under threat and that it is going to be torn down for an impending dam project. He decides to fight this decision, moving into the home and literally standing alone against a flood of battles. He alone is standing in the way of the dam project moving forward. Despite appeals from Clifford Sifton, the lead contractor, he refuses to budge. Jane Flick notes that his name is most likely a reference to Elijah Harper, “who blocked the Meech Lake Constitutional Accord in 1990 by being the standout vote in the Manitoba legislature.” (150) At the end of the novel Eli does not survive the destruction of the dam, and his house is broken to pieces. I was surprised that Eli met this fate at the end of the novel, and am still curious about the possible significance behind this event.

After reading GGRW, I believe that King wants his readers to read aloud, as it bridges the gap between written and oral traditions. The novel is concerned with removing barriers between narrative traditions, and this is one of the ways in which King works to achieve this goal. GGRW is a text infused with orality, speaking to its readers in a variety of different voices. The colourful dialogue and personalities practically jump off of the page, engaging readers and inviting them to participate, textually and orally, with the story.

Works Cited

Buesman, Callie. “Combating the Misrepresentation of Native Americans, Through Photos.” Jezebel, 2 March 2014, http://jezebel.com/combating-the-misrepresentation-of-native-americans-th-1527088294. Accessed 8 Nov. 2016.

Flick, Jane. “Reading Notes for Thomas King’s Green Grass Running Water.” Canadian Literature 161-162. (1999). Web. 9 Nov. 2016.

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

Morenus, David. “The Real Pocahontas.” http://pocahontas.morenus.org. Accessed 9 Nov. 2016.

3 ] Frye writes:

A much more complicated cultural tension [more than two languages] arises from the impact of the sophisticated on the primitive, and vice a versa. The most dramatic example, and one I have given elsewhere, is that of Duncan Campbell Scott, working in the department of Indian Affairs in Ottawa. He writes of a starving squaw baiting a fish-hook with her own flesh, and he writes of the music of Dubussy and the poetry of Henry Vaughan. In English literature we have to go back to Anglo-Saxon times to encounter so incongruous a collision of cultures (Bush Garden 221).

It is interesting, and telling of literary criticism at the time, that while Frye lights on this duality in Scott’s work, or tension between “primitive and civilized” representations; however, the fact that Scott wrote poetry romanticizing the “vanishing Indians” and wrote policies aimed at the destruction of Indigenous culture and Indigenous people – as a distinct people, is never brought to light. In 1924, in his role as the most powerful bureaucrat in the department of Indian Affairs, Scott wrote:

The policy of the Dominion has always been to protect Indians, to guard their identity as a race and at the same time to apply methods, which will destroy that identity and lead eventually to their disappearance as a separate division of the population (In Chater, 23).

For this blog assignment, I would like you to explain why it is that Scott’s highly active role in the purposeful destruction of Indigenous people’s cultures is not relevant for Frye in his observations above? You will find your answers in Frye’s discussion on the problem of ‘historical bias’ (216) and in his theory of the forms of literature as closed systems (234 –5).

In Northrop Frye’s The Bush Garden: Essays on the Canadian Imagination, the distinct Canadian literary identity is explored. As a fledgling nation with a vast, “hypnotizing” country below it, and vast, unknown land to the north, (Preface, iii) Canadian literary culture is not easy to define. According to Frye, “the Canadian literary mind, beginning as it did so late in the cultural history of the West, was established on a basis, not of myth, but of history.” (231) Canadian identity is not rooted in ballads and songs, in folklore or tradition. Rather, these things are viewed as “prehistoric.” (233) While Canadian authors may be experiencing new and exciting territory, they can only express these experiences in a form that he or she has read or studied. Frye’s theory is that “forms of literature are autonomous: they exist within literature itself, and can not be derived from any experience outside literature.” (232) For Frye, an author is not “actively shaping his material”, but is instead “a place where a verbal structure is taking its own shape.” (233) An author records his or her experiences into established forms, their new expressions shaped by what has come before.

With this theory in mind, it becomes easier to understand Frye’s treatment of Duncan Campbell Scott, a powerful bureaucrat in the Indian Affairs Bureau and author of romantic Canadian poetry. Frye writes about the tensions between the “primitive and the civilized” in Scott’s poems, yet fails to mention his role in shaping policies that destroy the very Indigenous cultures that he writes about. Frye does not give consideration to the realities of Scott’s role and the destructive policies he helped create. As a literary critic, Frye is concerned with Scott’s writings within a closed literary framework. The historical or external social conflicts that the writing was situated in do not matter, nor do Scott’s experiences. Scott is a mere vessel, recording his experiences into established literary forms.

Works Cited

Frye, Northrop. The Bush Garden: Essays on the Canadian Imagination. 1971. Toronto: Anansi. Print.

Ruffo, Armand. “Poem for Duncan Campbell Scott.” Canadian Poetry Online, https://canpoetry.library.utoronto.ca/ruffo/poem5.htm. 28 Oct. 2016.

Wyatt, Kyle. “Of Cultures and Condos.” The Walrus, Sept 12. 2012, http://thewalrus.ca/of-culture-and-condos. Accessed 28 Oct. 2016.

5. “To raise the question of ‘authenticity’ is to challenge not only the narrative but also the ‘truth’ behind Salish ways of knowing “(Carlson 59). Explain why this is so according to Carlson, and explain why it is important to recognize this point.

In Keith Carlson’s article “Orality and Literacy: The ‘Black and White’ of Salish History,” he discusses the matter of ‘authenticity’ in Aboriginal legends and myths. Stories that show evidence of European influence or appear to be informed by post-contact events have traditionally been discarded by scholars and regarded as inauthentic. These stories are often dismissed after being approached through a Western frame of reference, and are not considered through their own historical context. This process suggests that our written system of record keeping is in some way superior to the oral histories of the Salish people. Not only does this process isolate us from other cultures, but it can also “close the door on another way of knowing”, (56) as Carlson puts it.

For the Salish people, historical narratives are sacred and powerful. While stories are not judged in terms of authenticity, they are assessed by how reliable they are as a source of historical information. (57) First Nations narratives have their own litmus test, and are judged within the context of their own cultural standards. As Carlson notes, the Salish have “long been sensitive to the ‘need to get the story right’…bad history is considered to have potentially tragic consequences for both the teller and the listening audience.” (58) Respect and reverence for the power of stories seems to be embedded into the Salish culture. Stories have the power to “convene the spirits of the historical ancestors described” and to “cause bad things to happen” if they are told incorrectly. (59) Potential catastrophe hinges on these stories and the ways in which they are told. A poor or inaccurate retelling can ruin a storyteller’s reputation, and even “shorten the lives of all listeners.” (59) There are some parallels to be made here with Western culture, in that public figures who are caught lying or sharing inaccurate stories can be shamed and lose credibility.

Carlson is not arguing that we should not question Salish narratives. Rather, we should question them from an informed perspective, aware of the context to which these narratives belong. After all, when we question the authenticity of Salish stories, we are questioning the very foundation of their culture.

Works Cited

Carlson, Keith Thor. “Orality and Literacy: The ‘Black and White’ of Salish History.” Orality & Literacy: Reflectins Across Disciplines. Ed. Carlson, Kristina Fagna, & Natalia Khamemko-Frieson. Toronto: Uof Toronto P, 2011. 43-72.

Kanalley, Craig. “The Most Unforgettable Lies from Prominent Americans.” Huffington Post, http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/09/03/famous-american-lies_n_705324.html?slideshow=true. Accessed 19 Oct. 2016.

“Native Legends of the Americas: Salish Indian Legends, Myths, and Stories.” Native Languages, http://www.native-languages.org/salish-legends.htm.

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.

There are many reasons why finding meaningfulness in first stories may be a challenge. The first reason offered by Professor Paterson is that “the social process of the telling is disconnected from the story.” As we have seen in past assignments and readings, the telling of a story can be just as important as what is being told. When a story is taken out of the context in which it was originally told, it will inevitably lose meaning. Stories that were traditionally told at ceremonies as a means to proclaim land ownership and connect particular place names with individuals will not have the same impact when told in a one on one setting with a recording device in the room. These stories are based on an oral tradition, and take on significance through their delivery and the time and place in which they are told. As storyteller Harry Robinson reminds us in the Introduction to Living by Stories: A Journey of Landscape and Memory, these stories need to be listened to multiple times before one can truly understand their significance. (Robinson, 19)

The second reason offered is the residential school system and banning of potlatch festivals. Both of these government programs sought to eradicate First Nations culture and values. It seems impossible that children growing up away from their parents and grandparents could retain an untainted sense of their heritage and traditional stories. The process of assimilating First Nations children into the white, westernized culture caused their own cultures to become discredited. Understanding the first stories requires cultural knowledge, and this knowledge was effectively erased from multiple generations through these programs. Silencing these stories meant the death of history and meaning.

A third reason I would like to propose comes from Wendy Wickwire’s introduction to Harry Robinson. Over the course of their acquaintance, Robinson related many stories (three books worth) to Wickwire. It seemed that Wickwire herself struggled to find meaning in some of the first stories, and was surprised by the role her first ancestor played in them. In Robinson’s story of the twin brothers, the white twin is a thief and liar banished to a distant land after stealing a written document. (Robinson, 9) When retelling this story, Wickwire notes twice that this unsavoury character is her ancestor. Her emphasis on the word my strikes me as interesting. This story is somehow personal for her, as it is for everyone. It seems that her capacity for understanding Robinson’s story is impeded (at least at first hearing) by her personal stake in it.

Additionally, Wickwire notes the presence of  “impurities” in Robinson’s stories. Upon first hearing, she is puzzled by the references his stories included to modern people, places, and things, and the inclusion of political themes and conflicts between whites and Aboriginal peoples. Traditionally, historians collecting First Nations stories were more interested in myths and prehistorical legends. Franz Boas, a prominent anthropologist and story collector, actually edited the stories he heard to make them more consistent with the “precontact” myths. (Robinson, 23) What had been told as a historical narrative becomes a myth once these modern references are removed. This traditional approach weighs heavily on our abilities to take away meaning from the first stories. As Boas himself asks, “How can we recognize the shackles that tradition has laid upon us?”

Works Cited

“A history of residential schools in Canada.” CBC News, 21 Mar. 2016, http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/a-history-of-residential-schools-in-canada-1.702280.

“Franz Boas – The Shackles of Tradition.” YouTube, uploaded by ayabaya, 12 Dec. 2009. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GOvFDioPrMM.

Paterson, Erika. “Lesson 2.2: First Stories.” University of British Columbia, Vancouver. 7 Oct. 2016. Lecture.

Robinson, Harry. Living by Stories: A Journey of Landscape and Memory. Ed. Wendy C. Wickwire. Vancouver: Talon, 2005. Print.

List of Assumptions and Ideas about Home:

Home is a warm, safe and comforting place

A home has history, memories, and a sense of community

Home is friends and family

Home is love

Food, holidays, traditions

Home is a protected space

Home is not necessarily a tangible, physical space

“Home is where the Heart is”

Reading through our blogs, it is apparent that there are many shared assumptions and values we hold about home. Overall, home is seen as a positive thing. Whether it is a physical or mental space, it is a place that people turn to for comfort and strength. It represents family, friends, and loved ones. Home brings definition and fills in our outlines. The outside world may knock us about and threaten our sense of self, but home is always in our hearts to remind us of who we are.

Many blogs stated that home was not a physical location, but rather a non-physical place tied to memories and loved ones. The power of art to evoke human emotion was a common theme throughout the posts I read. Both Tillie and Chloë referenced specific poems and songs that connect them with home.

It was surprising to me how many people included memories of their grandparents in their posts. Karoliina wrote about memories of her Pappa and Mummi and cooking with them. Marissa included a memory of picking peas off the stalk in the garden with her nana. My grandmother was a central part of my post, and I was interested to see that other bloggers’ sense of home was driven by a similar connection.

Finally, I was struck by how our sense of home evolves as we age. As kids, our home is often contained to a physical house. As we grow and experience change and loss, our sense of home can expand and generalize. It becomes more than a physical space, it becomes a place inside of us that is carried everywhere we go.

Geographically speaking, my home is located in Portland, Oregon. Known for food carts, sensitive bearded hipsters, and bike lanes, it’s not a bad place to call home. It’s fairly clean and safe, as far as U.S. cities go. Oregon is the only state that has no restrictions on women’s reproductive rights. Modern Portland is a hub for progressive thinkers and political activists. Interestingly, it is also the whitest city in America.

When I am homesick, Portland can become a magical paradise land in my mind. I remember my Omi’s (German grandma) special cheese toast sandwich that she makes for me in her ancient toaster.

I think about my friend and I driving (a bit too fast) through the windy roads of our neighbourhood, blasting Lana Del Rey out the window of her mom’s minivan.

Of course I can’t forget my cat, Inky, waking me up in the morning with his cold nose.

Or our decorated Christmas tree, weighed down with ornaments that have accumulated over the years.

Thinking about it, maybe Portland, the city, is just a backdrop. The real actors in my fantasies of home are people and memories. Emotionally speaking, my home is located in the things that bring me comfort.

Sometimes I think about my ancestors and how my family made it to Portland. My Omi was born in Hamburg, Germany, a large port city in the northern part of the country. Her dad was a painter. He never sold any paintings, so her mom had to work as a cook to provide for their nine children. My grandma had to drop out of school when she was 14 so that she could work to help support the family. When WWII started, things got even tighter financially. My grandma has told me that she was once so hungry, that she dug in the ground to find potato roots for dinner. Their household was often awoken late in the night, by piercing air raid sirens. The family would struggle through cold darkness to find safety in the bunkers.

My Omi likes to tell me stories about her childhood and let me know that I have it pretty good. I tell her that she’s never had to deal with having no one like your Instagram photo or not being invited to a friend’s Facebook Event. She laughs and tells me to listen to Mozart when I’m sad.

Perhaps my sense of home can be encapsulated into moments like these.

Works Cited

“Hamburg is maritime heritage.” Lonely Planet, https://www.lonelyplanet.com/germany/hamburg. Accessed 28 Sept. 2016.

Del Rey, Lana. “Video Games.” YouTube, uploaded by Lana Del Rey VEVO, 16 Oct. 2011, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cE6wxDqdOV0.

Semuels, Alana. “The Racist History of Portland, the Whitest City in America.” The Atlantic, 22 July 2016, http://www.theatlantic.com/business/archive/2016/07/racist-history-portland/492035/. Accessed 28 Sept. 2016.

Uber, Tina. Laughing with Omi. 2012, digital photograph.

I have a great story to tell you.

The night smelled like rain and electricity. Something was brewing behind the clouds, maybe a storm. Olive wanted it to thunder. She needed a thrill. Her mother was asleep on the couch, snoring slightly. It was only too easy to slip out the side door. Sarah was waiting for her a block away, sitting on the curb and sipping a Big Gulp.

“Hey girl, that was fast.”

“Yeah, the soothing tones of Alex Trebek were too much for Melanie to handle. Where do you want to go?”

Sarah looked up from her phone, her face bathed in blue light. “Mac and them are over in the woods. We could meet them?”

“Sure, yeah let’s go.” The two girls walked the short distance quickly. The wind was picking up.

In the park, Mac had a fire going. Flames danced merrily upwards, sending out warmth and light. Olive and Sarah were only too happy to join the group huddled around the fire. Someone was strumming a guitar and marshmallows were turning the perfect golden brown in the flame. Their friend Sasha was in the process of lecturing a guy about the benefits of kale.

Olive yawned. She was bored. “Anyone want to hear a scary story?”

The others stopped what they were doing and nodded. They were intrigued.

“Ever heard about the time a group of hikers got lost in these woods?” Olive began to tell a story that was designed to thrill her audience. Her voice lowered and her eyes narrowed into slits. She used her hands to demonstrate the terrible crimes committed against the hikers. With each word she spoke, the air hanging over the campfire grew thicker. The light seemed to struggle against the weight of her words. The listeners gasped and moved closer to the fire, away from the dark edges of the clearing. As Olive spoke, the rain began. It gained strength with her words, putting out the fire, and in turn the light and warmth the group had been enveloped in. As Olive finished her story, everyone was shivering. She regretted telling the scary story, but it was too late. Her story had introduced fear and evil into the world of the clearing. It had drowned out the light, the music, and even the marshmallows. She had underestimated the power of the story in her search for entertainment.

The group disbanded. Everyone went home.

Thoughts on Storytelling

I told this story (with a little less detail) to my boyfriend. I found that I used my hands and my face to convey emotion that my words alone could not. I felt kind of powerful when telling the story, like the tone of my voice could illicit a certain reaction from my listener. I also noticed that the story underwent edits every time I told it. Small details could change or be removed, as long as the overall theme stayed in place.

Words. Chamberlin talks a lot about language, in particular the strangeness and wonder of how language works. Stories, he says, “bring us close to the world we live in by taking us into the world of words” (italics mine,1). He describes learning to read and write as learning “to be comfortable with a cat that is both there and not there” (132). Based on Chamberlin’s understanding of how riddles and charms work, explain this “world of words.” Reflect on why “words make us feel closer to the world we live in” (1).

In chapters Eight and Nine of If This is Your Land, Where Are Your Stories, J. Edward Chamberlin discusses the significance of riddles and charms in stories and songs. In his opinion, riddles celebrate contradictions and require us to “make sense of what seems to be nonsense.” (160) They show how language can be twisted to take on strange and surprising meanings. In a similar way, charms blur the line between reality and imagination. They are magical and musical, lending power to words and breathing new life into language.

Chamberlin’s own storytelling takes the reader into a “world of words.” Reading the story of his grandfather, who was robbed at gunpoint in the bank he owned, I couldn’t help but be charmed by the man’s heroism. Chamberlin’s grandfather is described as being “cool and calm” (177) when a bank robber is pointing a gun at his face. Rather than hand over the money, the grandfather “kicked the safe door shut, spun the handles to set the lock and swung back to face the stranger. “Shoot me and be damned,” he said.” (176) This story served as a charm for Chamberlin growing up, reinforcing his grandfather as a hero in his imagination.

After reading this story, I was reminded of a tale that my dad used to tell me at night before bed. I used to request to hear this particular story over and over, even though I already knew the storyline by heart. In it, my dad is a young boy, hanging out with his group of neighbourhood pals. They decided that they wanted to be detectives. They formed a club and met every day to discuss possible cases. One day, their local candy store had a mysterious robbery. Behind the store was a chicken wire cage where they stored all of their bottle and can returns. Someone had cut the wire and taken all of the cans. The detective club had found their case! Across the street from the store was a large and empty field where they used to hunt horned toads and snakes. My dad, the star detective, noticed some cans in the ditch. The group spent the afternoon searching the field until they found the stash of cans and bottles covered by branches. They told the store owner who then recovered the bottles. The Kids Detective Club was rewarded with free candy and sodas. Mystery solved! Just like Chamberlin’s story, my dad’s tale has mystery, adventure, and a happy ending. While simple, it holds the promise of a charm and captured my youthful imagination. Stories like these simultaneously give us a sense of the extraordinary and the everyday.

But what about the cultures whose languages and words are endangered? In chapter Five, Chamberlin writes about the Khomani people, a small group of bushmen from South Africa who suffered numerous atrocities, including being displaced from their traditional lands. In the middle of the 20th century their language N|u was declared dead, despite the fact that there were a handful of fluent speakers still living. After their homeland in the Kalahari Desert was returned to them in 1999, Chamberlin travels with the Khomani on their first return to their aboriginal homeland. (111) Chamberlin writes, “The Khomani are recovering their language…they have the interest, for now that they are back in the desert they want to learn about it through the names of its plants and animals and spirits and stars.” (113) Despite the atrocities the Khomani have faced as a people, words still have the power to make them feel closer to their ancestral lands.

In every culture, words and stories console and unite individuals. As Chamberlin notes, the “dedication to the power of words to bring comfort and build community is all but universal.” (182) Words keep us company and show us that we are not alone in our suffering. They bring us faith when faced with uncertainty and sorrow. Above all, words are about connection. They connect individuals to history, communities, and the world itself.

Works Cited

Chamberlin, J. Edward. If This Is Your Land, Where Are Your Stories?:Finding Common Ground. Toronto: Vintage Canada, 2004. Print.

“Khomani San.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lVMHtquHlTM. YouTube, uploaded by Portal Films, 20 Jan. 2008.

Moseley, Christopher (ed.). 2010. “Atlas of the World’s Languages in Danger.” unesco.org, http://www.unesco.org/culture/en/endangeredlanguages/atlas. Accessed 23 Sept. 2016.