E Beverly Brown shared her photos not only to ‘pay tribute to the resilience, spirit and strength’ of the students of St. Michael’s Residential school but also ‘so that this period in our collective history is not forgotten’.  These were words that stuck with me as I made my way through Speaking to Memory: Images and Voices from St. Michael’s Residential School. The exhibit inspired a number of emotions. The strongest being guilt and shame – to a point where it was almost overwhelming. I am of the mind that it is absolutely necessary that Canadian’s acknowledge the entirety of their history – the good, the bad and the ugly – but at the same time simply acknowledging doesn’t feel like enough. I’ve taken a handful of Canadian History courses over the course of my academic career and I’ve been made aware of Canada’s dark history – its numerous violations of human rights. However, this exhibit made me realize that I’ve only been made aware. The fact of the matter is, I do not think about residential schools. I do not think about Chinese labor camps. I do not think about Japanese internment camps. Not unless I have to.

One thing that I struggled with in this exhibit was the chalkboard towards the rear entrance.
A place to share reflections on the residential schools for those who had taken the time to look at E Beverly Brown’s 39 photographs. For those who had read the 6 apology banners top to bottom. Who had sat down and perused the countless articles or even skimmed the 54 excerpts taken from former students. For me, the comments on the board only served to highlight the ignorance of Canadians. “[residential schools] were SO SO sad”

Residential schools were far more than ‘SO SO sad’.

The layout of the exhibit is one of the aspects that I found to be most effective. The triangular format of the entry – the wall of text leading into the exhibit, the photographs of students placed across from the excerpts of former students. The apology banners placed in a space where the next most prominent display speaks of the rampant tuberculosis – the consequence of entirely preventable yet overlooked overcrowding. As one leaves – the wall of text which admits Canada’s failure. I’ve asked a friend to check out the exhibit – to walk it from the back to the front – and share their interpretation. I would (could and have) do(ne) this but knowing what was in the exhibit changed the feeling. It wasn’t fresh. I knew what was to come. My experience had already been dictated by the manner in which I participated.

I must say that, despite raising my blood pressure, the short paper assignment turned into one of those rare assignments that I truly appreciate. Since declaring my major as English Literature four years ago I’ve spent significantly less time in bookstores. One might say I actively avoid them. It’s been far too long since I’ve read for pleasure. My excuse is my dining room table. Which probably doesn’t make much sense to you – so let e explain. My dining room table boasts four stacks of reasonably thick texts from September until April. Come May I shelve all the texts and spend the next four months giving my brain a break. Sure, I’ll sit by the pool with a good novel every once in a while but how I read these days as opposed to how I used to read in my younger years has changed dramatically. Forgive that tangent. Classes have just ended and I am more than ready for Reading Week.  Alas, this post must be up by midnight.

On with the show.

I appreciated the short paper assignment because it required that I spend some time in an actual bookstore. Wandering the biography section I came across a number of familiar names and familiar faces. Some texts I had read before, many (most) I had not. As the point of the assignment was to take into consideration the epitext and paratext, I spent a great deal of time examining individual texts and making notes. I came across the most bizarre life narratives as I read through references, acknowledgments, reviews, removed dustjackets, compared hardcover and softcovers among other suspicion inducing actions. I also came across a number of life narratives that made me ask “Why?” More specifically “Why was this life narrative published?” I was content to answer my own question with “Why not?”. However, browsing review sites (Amazon, Chapters and Goodreads) I found my answer.

No matter how bizarre (or in some cases ‘ordinary’) a life narrative – there was the potential to reach people. I came across countless reviews for the text I selected (Piece of Cake: A Memoir) that claimed the text inspired or influenced the reader’s (or someone known to the reader’s) life in a positive way.

TBC (Before Midnight Obviously)