Thomas King’s “Green Grass Running Water” is a novel rich with an amalgamation of historical, pop-cultural and politically charged allusions. In my reading of the text and, more specifically, the range of text I will be covering in this blog post, I was able to uncover at least a few of these cleverly incorporated allusions (albeit after much re-reading and outside research).

The first of these allusions came to mind as I read about the theft of Milford’s truck. In this section, Milford’s truck is taken without his consent or knowledge, and sold to a car dealer named Fred Peterson. The theft is initially reported to a man named Amos who works for the tribal police. When Milford comes across his truck in Peterson’s parking lot, Amos is alerted and proceeds to confront Fred Peterson about the matter. Peterson, however, states that he has a bill of sale with Milford’s signature on it. On the bill of sale, Milford’s name is misspelled as “Melfred”; a clear indication that his signature was forged and the bill of sale was not authentic. Peterson, however, disrespectfully dismisses what Amos is saying and exhibits a  disdain towards both Amos and Milford, as well as the larger community of First Nations people. In response to Amos’ suggestion that the bill of sale was not signed by Milford, Peterson simply states that Milford must have signed it and was likely drunk, desperate for money and/or simply forgotten he signed it. Peterson clearly displays his lack of regard for First Nations people, assuming that these negative character traits can be used to describe Milford (and in general, all First Nations people) and, further, that he has no regard for the ownership of property by First Nations’ individuals. The scenario that transpires between Amos, Milford and Peterson reminded me of past legislation that has served to abolish and show blatant disregard for Aboriginal land claims. In the CanLit guides, Fee and Flick mention, for example, the “Bursum Bill of 1921” which sought to remove land from Pueblos (Native Americans in the Southwestern United States) and give the rights to this land to “non-Indians”. A disregard for the land rights and opinions of First Nations people is also evident in the White Paper of 1969. Similar to the “bill of sale” presented by Peterson, the White Paper and Bursum Bill were not agreed upon by First Nations people. The White Paper was, quite frankly, an act displaying blatant disregard to First Nations peoples’ desires, identities and land claims, as well as a covert means of assimilating First Nations people into a colonial conception of Canadian identity. The misspelling of “Milford” as “MelFRED” stood out to me as a smaller-scale display of this assimilation process.

The CanLit guides proved to be an indispensible resource as I searched for allusions within the text. I would not have known, for example, that Buffalo Bill Bursum was an allusion to two men who were “famous for their hostility to Indians” (CanLit guides). I mentioned the Bursum Bill of 1921 above and this bill was proposed by none other than Holm O. Bursum, a senator from New Mexico. There is some discussion of his lack of regard for Aboriginal land rights above so I will move on… “Buffalo Bill” refers to a man named William F. Cody who was known for exploiting First Nations people for entertainment purposes in “Buffalo Bill Cody’s Wild West Shows”. The shows depicted a “western cowboy” mentality, in which First Nations people were shown as inferior adversaries to the ever-heroic white cowboy! King’s Bursum exhibits these same character traits and discriminatory views of Indians as inherently lesser and, furthermore, as a white man’s entertainment.

Perhaps a more obvious allusion in this section the mention of John Wayne; an actor who often played the “heroic white cowboy” who would defeat the antagonistically depicted First Nations people. These western films and John Wayne’s role as a victor in these films have created a pop-cultural reference point that justifies the depiction of First Nations people as stereotypically defined adversaries and, furthermore, has served to normalize and perpetuate violence and discrimination against First Nations people as well. The narrative put forth in these media depictions is one that favours the colonial settler and positions him/her as the dominant societal figure while diminishing the identity and importance of First Nations peoples. King, in his novel, shifts the narrative by making the First Nations people in the film the victors and bringing John Wayne to an untimely death.

As mentioned, these are only a few of the allusions that I could find/decided to share here! I hope you found this post interesting and informative! Also, please note that due to the confusion surrounding page numbers, this covers pages 300 – 317 in the 2007 edition (the one made available at UBC Bookstore) of Green Grass Running Water! 

Works Cited

The term “Coyote Pedagogy” appears to be an apt term to describe the role of Coyote within the novel. King uses Coyote as a means of conveying a number of important lessons; some I found to be more obvious than others and some that I likely have yet to realize. As much of the questions throughout this course have prompted me to do, I was compelled to do a little background research into the subject matter. A quick search of the role of the trickster within the stories of First Nations’ people led me on an interesting journey, to say the least. Although the role of the trickster seems to vary from story to story, it largely seems to embody a creator who, as Warn puts it, is ever-changing; a transformer. King uses Coyote as a transformer in Green Grass Running Water, I believe, to urge readers to consider stories from various perspectives. As we have been doing throughout the course, Coyote urges us to uncover different stories and narrative voices and, in doing so, allows us to interpret these stories in our own ways.

The role of Coyote is multifaceted. King’s descriptions of Coyote suggest that he is constantly questioning and transcending the boundaries of supposedly established knowledge. Coyote’s questions may be considered uncomfortable by those who are attached to the idea of knowledge as hierarchical and fixed. Consider the following quotation from King:

“There are no truths, Coyote,” I says. “Only stories.”

“Okay,” says Coyote. “Tell me a story.” (326)

What role is Coyote playing in the dialogue shared? My interpretation of the quote is that Coyote serves to help the reader question the frameworks that govern our daily lives. Truth, for example, is being questioned by King through Coyote’s inquisitive nature and the reader, in turn, is being urged to question the truth and the dominant narratives we come to accept as truths. In Green Grass Running Water, Coyote has a dream which takes an enlivened form and calls itself “God”. Coyote, however, refers to the self-proclaimed God as Dog upon seeing that Dog misinterprets the details of the creation stories being told by the nameless narrator of the tale. “Dog” represents the Colonial worldview; a perspective fixated on a singular conception of truth and knowledge. In Coyote’s engagement with this dream-come-to-life, the reader becomes wary of the problems of only being receptive to a singular interpretation and this reminded me of an earlier lesson in which one of the questions asked us to discuss some of the barriers we face in understanding first stories. Coyote’s role is to bring forth the complications of preconceived notions of truth and falsehoods and the oft-held perception that we can only subscribe to a singular conception of truth. Coyote goes beyond being a character and becomes, instead, the guideline you loosely follow in subversion of the hegemony and in pushing the established boundaries.

“A burning bush!” says Coyote.

“Where do you get these things?” I says.

“I read a book” says Coyote.

“Forget the book,” I says. “We’ve got a story to tell. And here’s how it goes.” (King 291)

Forget the book? What an impossible notion for those of us entrapped within western academic discourses! What is King trying to say!? In opting for the telling of an oral story and the “forgetting” of the book, King urges a reclamation of “alternative” voices that have been silenced within the discourses of the colonial encounter. Once again, I believe, Coyote’s encounters are being used to urge the uncovering of non-dominant narratives and to exhibit the relationship between First Nations’ resistance and colonial dominance and further, to not privilege one medium of storytelling over another.

Throughout my research, I happened upon an interesting read in which the author makes a statement that resonated with me: “Coyote, then, helps me to reflect and to gain understandings, challenging and comforting me just like a critical friend” (Archibald 7). As Archibald mentions, Coyote does not draw out understandings for the reader. These understandings are gained from critical reflection and it is up to the reader to uncover these. Do not fear boundaries, they have been created; ask questions and ask them often – that is what I learn from Coyote.

Works Cited

Archibald, Jo-Ann. “Indigenous Storywork.” UBC Press, 1 Jan. 2008. Web. 9 Mar. 2015.

Kallu, Shamina. “2.2 – Question 2.” Canada Muffled Voices and National   Narratives. WordPress, 6 Feb. 2015. Web. 9 Mar. 2015.

Question 1: In his article, “Godzilla vs. Post-Colonial,” King discusses Robinson’s collection of stories. King explains that while the stories are written in English, “the patterns, metaphors, structures as well as the themes and characters come primarily from oral literature.” More than this, Robinson, he says “develops what we might want to call an oral syntax that defeats reader’s efforts to read the stories silently to themselves, a syntax that encourages readers to read aloud” and in so doing, “recreating at once the storyteller and the performance” (186). Read “Coyote Makes a Deal with King of England”, in Living by Stories. Read it silently, read it out loud, read it to a friend, and have a friend read it to you. See if you can discover how this oral syntax works to shape meaning for the story by shaping your reading and listening of the story. Write a blog about this reading/listening experience that provides references to the story.

When I first read Robinsons’ “Coyote Makes a Deal with King of England”, I struggled through it very, very slowly. My first read was, of course, silently done in my head as per the instructions of the assignment. As I was reading, I noticed that I was (almost automatically) putting the fragmented sentences into complete, “proper” sentences. When I say “proper”, I refer to the western and academic categorization of syntax that suggests written literature ought to follow the rules of grammar and linguistics. I fell victim to this framework of thinking and am so conditioned to think this way that I did not even realize I was doing it until I thought about the question again, as I read, and realized I was missing something very important. I started from the top, this time allowing myself to read it in silence as it was on the page and here is what I found: it made no sense to me. I felt no connection to it. I was reading words on a page that were in fragmented sentences and I was irked by the knowledge that I was missing something. Something. But what?

I read the story again, this time out loud and the experience felt different. The fragmentation of sentences made little sense when reading the story in my head. Upon reading it aloud, sentences beginning with “and” or “but” or “then” felt more natural than when seeing them written on a page. I focused less on the grammatical “errors” and focused more, instead, on the meaning behind the words. In terms of shaping the story, I think Robinson uses oral syntax as a means of subverting and contesting colonial narratives. In some sense, the structure being used by Robinson deconstructs the narrative voice we are accustomed to in western academic writing and gives credence, instead, to an overall story. My attention went deeper than the written words on the page, which lost their intrinsic value and, instead, were valuable as a source of communicating a hidden moral.

The way the sentences were written seemed to flow in a way that made me pause in certain places, and emphasize certain parts as I would if I were sharing a personal story. It made sense. It felt natural. It felt comfortable. This sense of comfort was the element that drew me into the story, bridging the distance and unfamiliarity with its form that I felt during my first read. Moreover, this written form gave the story a “dialogic” feel, wherein I felt like a participant as opposed to an observer. This feeling of being a participant as opposed to an observer was especially cemented through the use of sentences like the following:

“They wanted to know who that was.

Looks like a person.” (Robinson, 64)

In the above two sentences, Robinson does something extremely clever (or at least, I feel he did!). When I read this silently, I missed this entirely… I was too focused on the language structure; the grammar. When I read it aloud, however, it felt (as I mentioned above) more natural because in my own experience growing up in a Western academic setting, it is not “horribly inappropriate” to speak this way. What I draw from the overall “unstructured” structure of the story is a conversational aspect. I read the second sentence like an “aside” or a personal insight. I felt as though this was a thought I was having upon observing something myself. In contrast, however, when I read it silently and was putting it into grammatically “correct” sentences the first time, the story read like a monologue. Somebody was telling me something. The author constructs the story just as people would speak with the use of simple words, fragmented sentences, and pauses. Robinson also uses repetition throughout, saying things like:

“God sent the Angel to Coyote

Sent the Angel” (64).

This is not something frequently seen in writing but it is a tool used when speaking to emphasize a point or buy time when thinking.

After reading the story out loud to myself (okay, and also after a way-too-long Pinterest break), I read it to my sister as well. Yesterday, I asked her to read it back to me. The first thing that stuck out to both of us was the conversational feel of telling the story, but I have already mentioned this element of oral syntax. So, to provide you with some new and less redundant information, I did gain some new insights into what exactly gave this style of writing the conversational appeal that I so very much enjoyed. Both of us mentioned that we were paying careful attention to each other’s facial expressions and physical cues as we told each other the stories, which added an additional layer of meaning to each line. I also noticed that at some parts of the story, things are said that do not reflect the finality and certainty you often experience when reading something with a monologue-like style. On page 82, for example, Robinson writes, “and that could be around two o’clock or something like that”, and in many other parts of the story, he reflects this ambiguity when discussing ideas and places and people and time. The combination of this ambiguity with the use of fragmented sentences gives the story so much conversational appeal that it begs to be read out loud. It invites you in. The reflection of this ambiguity is a clever means of making the story transcend the rigid boundaries of places and people stuck in specific “heres” and “nows”.

So, now I’ve discussed my personal engagement and experience with the story and I would like to pose this question to you all:

One of the issues that has come up in our readings throughout this course is how the transcription of oral stories to written literature can often result in a loss of the meaning behind the story. Do you think Robinson’s style of “oral syntax” helps alleviate this problem?

Works Cited

“Converting Literary to Oral Stories.” Converting Literary to Oral Stories. 17 Oct. 2001. Web. 13 Feb. 2015.

Robinson, Harry. “Coyote Makes a Deal with the King Of England.” Living by Stories: a Journey of Landscape and Memory. Ed. Wendy Wickwire. Vancouver: Talonbooks, 2005. 64-85.

“The Oral Tradition of Storytelling.” YouTube. YouTube, 25 May 2011. Web. 13 Feb. 2015

.

I have spent the afternoon reading through your (three of my fellow classmates’) blog posts on “home” and, boy, has it been an interesting and intimate opportunity to get to know you few just a little bit better. I found myself relating personally to a number of thoughts and emotions invoked through the readings but noticed not only the common ground in our conceptions of home, but the marked differences (which made for an interesting read and some enlightening new insights – so thank you). For this assignment, I am choosing to focus specifically on the blog posts shared by Tarana, Rajin and Jasmine. I think, the most common and striking intersection I found between the posts shared in the blogs of these classmates is that “home” is a fluid concept and is often aptly characterized by its intangible qualities, as opposed to its tangible associations. It is, in other words, the emotions, memories, and values that we associate with tangible structures and spaces (e.g. houses) that make these places “home”. Upon reading these posts, I was able to gain some sense of what these values, memories and emotions are that characterize home (for Tarana, Rajin and Jasmine, as well as for myself). Some of these common intersections are as follows:

• A place of many memories and defining stories
• Defined by “comfort”
• A safety net
• A place of welcome
• A sense of both ownership and belonging to “home”
• A place of family
• Fluid

Although these overarching themes seemed to jump out at me while I read my classmates’ blogs, I was also struck by how these common characterizing values, memories, stories and emotions that we use to define home differ so significantly in themselves. For example, while the value of “family” seemed to be an intersection shared in the blogs I read (as well as my own), our definitions of this value deviated from one another’s. In his blog, Rajin mentioned that growing up, he considered everyone who lived in his surrounding area his family. At a later point in time, Rajin mentions that he considers the apples and trees on his parents’ orchard to be his family as well. In my own blog, my discussion of “family” refers exclusively to my blood relatives.

The concept of “home” appears to be an especially comforting one to most (or, at least, when referencing the classmates whose blogs I have discussed for the purposes of this assignment). What I noticed while reading them (and while inadvertently comparing them to my own conception of home) was that we all appeared to have fond, and positive characterizations of home. We seemed to share a feeling of nostalgia that permeated our discussions of home. Our common ground was in the familiarity of home; the underlying assumption that home was a safe space from which we have come and to which we feel welcome to return. In her blog, Tarana mentions that she lived in a variety of homes growing up and it was in making these spaces “familiar” that “home” was created. Similarly, Jasmine mentions that she has lived in both Toronto and Vancouver, and that she did not consider Vancouver to be “home” until she was able to “make” it home – this, to me, reflects the idea that “home” as a concept is not a fixed entity but is something we form. As I mentioned in the list above, I got a sense (and feel myself) that our conceptions of home are often linked to the stories and memories we tell and cherish – though these memories may differ vastly (from the smell of a specific food to a defining moment in our lives).

WORKS CITED

Chen, Jasmine. “Home Is Where I Want to Be.” Literature Night in Canada. WordPress, 30 Jan. 2015. Web. 2 Feb. 2015. <https://blogs.ubc.ca/jazznotes/2015/01/30/21-home-is-where-i-want-to-be/>.

Rana, Tarana. “I’ve Lived in Many Houses.” Canadian Stories. WordPress, 30 Jan. 2015. Web. 2 Feb. 2015. <https://blogs.ubc.ca/eng470tarana/2015/01/30/ive-lived-in-many-houses/>.

Sidhu, Rajin. “The Story About My Home.” Canada Home Sweet Home. WordPress, 30 Jan. 2015. Web. 2 Feb. 2015. <https://blogs.ubc.ca/rajinsidhu/2015/01/30/2-1-the-story-about-my-home/>.

With most of my first cousins, parents, dad’s siblings (and their husbands/wives) and my grandma! Woo! Big family!

She had been dreaming of this day. At long last, she would be leaving home and the rigid constraints she had so deeply detested. “Do this. Do that. Where are you? Come home, it’s late!”  The words rang in her head as she unpacked her belongings. The room was empty, except for a tiny loft bed in one corner and a barren desk in another. “It looks dreary but I’ll dress it up. This is my new home and it’s going to be perfect”, she thought to herself. She sat there for a bit, realizing she had moved in much earlier than anyone else on the sixth floor of Dene. An hour later, the dresser was organized. Her closet was full of hanging clothes. A few knick-knacks sat atop the once barren desk. Posters of “inspirational people” stared back at her from every wall. Voices drifted down the hallway and finally, she was ready to meet the floor mates with whom she would be making this place her “home”.

Minutes turned to hours, and the sun was setting while girls waved goodbye to their parents and other family members. She had asked her parents to let her move in on her own. She could do it. She was mature now. She would be living alone, after all. She looked over at the girls waving goodbye and quickly averted her eyes.  A deep breath followed and then she was off with her new friends. There remained a pit in her stomach even while she excitedly got to know the other girls. She ignored it, telling herself it was the anxiety of all these amazing new experiences. She had barely slept the day prior. She was too eager, too ready get out of North Delta. “All I need is a good rest and this weird feeling in my stomach will be a mere memory” she muttered to herself.

The day had come and gone. It was nearing 2 a.m. She noticed a missed call on her cell phone from her mom but by now, her mom was probably fast asleep. The building was silent and dark. She opened the door to her room and looked down the long hallway. No lights were on. Everyone was probably fast asleep, except for her. The pit in her stomach had not gone away and she was especially aware of it now that she sat atop her bed with nothing but silence ringing in her ears. It felt like the silence was growing around her. The pit in her stomach was growing. She decided to lie down and pulled the covers over herself, reaching underneath to grab at something she realized she had forgotten. Princess G… where was Princess G? The pink stuffed kitten she had gotten nearly fifteen years ago was nowhere to be found. She balled up a pillow and pulled it close, hugging it tightly. Eventually, she closed her eyes and tried to drift off to sleep like the rest of the world.

As she lay there, the silence was overcome by the voices in her head. No, relax, she was not losing her mind. She thought of her mom, gentle and kind but stern when the need be, standing in the doorway of her bedroom in North Delta. “You look like you’re going to doze off”, she would say every night after they told one another about their days. She would then say a quick “I love you, good night” and head down the hallway toward her own bedroom. She opened her eyes and glanced toward the door, almost confident the voice was not just in her head. The door was closed and the room was empty, of course. The pit in her stomach continued to grow. She felt like a knot was forming in her chest. She closed her eyes again and pictured herself sitting on the couch in her home. Not this “home”, not her new “home”. In her mind, she was at home in North Delta; the town she had so desperately wanted to escape. She reveled in the comfort of the couch. Her grandmother was in the next room, making tea. Moments later, they were both seated firmly on the couch, drinking tea and laughing about something funny her dad had said the day before. He was always saying funny things and spewing out the most random bits of information. Did you know, for example, that chess originated in India? “Why are you telling me this at 7 in the morning?” She would say to whatever tidbit he was sharing before he rushed off to work. “The more you know, the more you grow” He would respond. She smiled to herself, feeling the memories rush through; engulfing her in their warmth. That night, she finally did manage to drift off to sleep, dreaming about her parents’ cooking, the feel of her bed in North Delta and the chats with her mom before bed. School was not to start for a couple more days, but she had been eager to move in as early as possible to settle into her new home. The next morning, she got on the 99 B-Line and, much to her own surprise, headed back toward North Delta. At first, her parents looked incredulous and asked if everything was alright or if she had forgotten something important. She looked up at them and apologized profusely for being so eager to leave them all behind. As she was leaving, the pit began to form in her stomach again. Her parents hugged her tightly. She was about to leave when her mom called her name. “You forgot something” her mom said, holding Princess G in her hands.

She was back on the Skytrain, a little piece of home in her hand. “Dene will become a home away from home, in time…” she thought to herself. As she sat there, she began to think of the words from one of her favourite songs. “Home is wherever I’m with you…” she hummed quietly. The song was a romantic song, but the “you” took on a different meaning for her. The “you” was family. No matter how much she would grow to love Dene, she knew that at the root of it all home was with her family and the memories and spaces they filled in together.

This short story tells the tale of my first foray into the world of (partial) independence and moving away from home to live on campus at UBC. Although North Delta is not that far away from UBC and the trek home was actually quite simple, I will never forget the feelings of nostalgia that haunted me when I moved into Dene. After living there for the duration of the year and making close friends and special memories, however, I found that I was haunted with a similar (but lesser) nostalgia and pit in my stomach when it came time to leave. These feelings of sadness were likely muted by the knowledge that I was going back to a place full of love, memories and family. Despite the happy times I had in Dene, I always thought of it as my “home away from home”, never as the “home” that I felt most attached to. It is these feelings and the paramount value of family that, I believe, defines home for me.

Works Cited:

“Origins of Chess.” Princeton University. Web. 30 Jan. 2015. <http://www.princeton.edu/~achaney/tmve/wiki100k/docs/Origins_of_chess.html>.

I have a great story to tell you. It is a story about evil, and you will find that this evil is closer than you think.

There was a time when the truths of our world were not readily known and, for that matter, could not be known. These truths were secret burdens; hidden from the world’s people to protect them from the despair that would follow if these truths were unleashed. The Creator of this planet, this universe, all that we know and, of course, what lies beyond, concentrated the knowledge of these truths into one living individual. This individual suffered from the despair of these truths alone and was not to share them with any other person. She was known simply as “the Knower of All”.

For centuries, the world was a place full of happiness and carelessness; not a worry in the world among the majority of its inhabitants. There were no fights or quarrels. There was no inequality. Oppression of any kind did not exist. In fact, these words: oppression, inequality, words with any sort of negative connotation were unknown.  It was not merely the words that had not yet come into existence but rather, no harms had ever come to anyone. As I have mentioned, there was not a worry in the world for almost every one of the world’s people. The Knower of All (or simply, the Knower as we will affectionately call her for short) was the only one, of course, who did not and could not share in this worriless lifestyle because the Knower knew things and these were things nobody would ever want to know, you see. I am sure, at this point, you would like to know more about the Knower and what, exactly, it was that she knew.

At the time of her creation, the Knower was blessed (or more aptly, cursed) with the power of knowledge. This power stemmed from the ability to see into the future. These visions of the future came to the Knower in her mind, and she was not to share them with anyone. One night, a long, long time ago, while reveling in some of the past truths she had uncovered through her visions, the Knower began to see a scenario in her mind. As the scene disappeared, the Knower fell to the floor. She had just had a vision, and in it was knowledge of a time soon to come. This knowledge had brought her more despair than she had ever felt before.  After this incident, the Knower was visibly shaken. She wept loudly in public and those around her, who had never before seen or experienced sadness, merely assumed she must be elated; crying tears of happiness, of course!

The Creator saw the utter despair that had befallen the Knower. It was far more pain than the Creator had ever intended to bestow upon her. The Creator knew the only way to make the Knower’s pain more bearable was to spread the despair; to have her share it with others and remove the world’s burden from the Knower alone. That night, as the world slept, a story full of images crept into the minds of each and every individual. The images were the same ones the Knower had seen earlier that day. They were images of mass destruction, hatred and revenge. They were images of inequality, oppression and marginalization. They were images of disease and death. They were images of impoverished families living in the streets and comparatively wealthy passersby shooting them looks of contempt while discussing the latest episode of “Keeping up with the Kardashians”. There was ignorance and there was apathy. In all of these things, the Creator was showing the world that evil was coming.

 In the morning, when the world had awakened, there were tears shed every which way the Knower looked. She knew, of course, that nobody was crying tears of happiness. The world did not know what to do with this terrible knowledge. For them, it was too much too soon, but the story could not be taken back.

The above story deviates quite heavily from Leslie Silko’s original. The point I wanted to hit on, however, was that stories cannot be taken back. Once they are out there, they are out there. In the story I mentioned, there is an obvious positive side to the knowledge of “evil” coming into the world. It is lifting a veil of ignorance and, of course, the ignorance of our world to all of its evils is an evil in and of itself. It is not only the story itself that matters, though. What I learned from sharing this story is that in large part, how you share a story matters as well. The Creator shared the story with the inhabitants of the world in a manner that perhaps proved to be too much for the emotional capacity of any human (especially when you’re living in a time when these evils simply do not exist and you cannot fathom their existence) and sent its inhabitants into disarray. So, I have a question for you guys: how do we tell our stories and who do we share them with? Is there such a thing as telling “too much” or telling “too much, too soon”? Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading my story and I would love to hear your thoughts on it. I may have missed the mark completely, but hey, I had a fun time writing this!

Works Cited

“Canada Income Inequality.” Canada Income Inequality. Web. 28 Jan. 2015. <http://www.huffingtonpost.ca/news/canada-income-inequality/>.

Edward Chamberlin states that “stories give meaning and value to the places we call home… they hold us together and at the same time keep us apart” (1). These stories differ between cultures and nations; across physical and social boundaries. The act of telling stories differs as well, and cultures are often differentiated on the basis of how their stories are told. As Chamberlin discusses, for example, societies in which people communicate through spoken word and spread stories via word of mouth are deemed “oral cultures”. Conversely, however, cultures whose stories are shared and preserved through the processes of reading and writing are classified as “written cultures”. Entangled in this binary distinction is a type of social hierarchy in which those who are part of “oral cultures” are considered inferior while those who are part of “written cultures” are believed to be part of a culture that exercises a greater level of mental complexity and superiority. Chamberlin states that it is these notions that “[encourage] people to treat other societies with a blend of condescension and contempt while celebrating the sophistication of their own” (19). Much like Chamberlin, MacNeil argues with the oft held academic perspective that literate cultures are evidence of evolutionary progress. MacNeil suggests that this viewpoint (in which oral cultures are seen as being primitive) largely reflects a deep-rooted bias against non-Westernized civilizations.

Chamberlin, too, argues against the perspective that there exists a clear-cut binary between “oral cultures” and “written cultures”. “Oral cultures”, he states, are “rich in forms of writing [that are] non-syllabic and non-alphabetic” (Chamberlin 20). These forms of writing, he argues, are evident in “woven and beaded blankets… carved and painted trays, poles, doors” (Chamberlin 20). Chamberlin continues to argue against the distinctions between the two cultural categories by pointing out that the central institutions of supposedly “written cultures” are rich with oral traditions, like the ritualistic way that “certain things must be said and done in the right order by the right people”(20). By sharing these examples, the author forces the reader to consider the ways in which we are all part of both oral and written cultural traditions and may, in some cases, fail to recognize these elements in our stories and in our societies. Both MacNeil and Chamberlin point out that members of Western societies often overlook the oral forms of communication that they practice, and a sense of “Western egocentrism” becomes clear in this dismissal of oral traditions and the subsequent hierarchy created between “written cultures” and “oral cultures”.

MacNeil continues to argue against the decisive division between “oral and written cultures” by discussing technological advances that have blurred the line between the two. Sound files (like mp3 files), for example, are oral means of communication but are readily available, easily accessible and “permanent” on the World Wide Web. Spoken word stories, typically, are not associated with this type of permanence. Similarly, the definition of “written cultures” is challenged by technological advances like the use of twitter (and other online mediums of sharing stories) where text can be deleted and can exist as a temporary means of communication.

I find the points brought up by both Chamberlin and MacNeil to be very thought provoking, and I certainly believe that upon closer investigation, elements of both oral and written traditions can be found in any culture and the definitions associated with the two categories are being continuously challenged by technological advancements. I agree that the privileging of one mode of storytelling over another reflects a heavy Western egocentrism, but is it problematic to recognize a difference between oral and written/literary stories (without the hierarchical associations and privileging)? Cultural artifacts (like those discussed by Chamberlin) should absolutely be considered valuable, relevant and valid means of cultural communication for the symbolic meaning and stories attached to them. However, should the definition of literature widen its scope to include the means of story-telling and communication that Chamberlin brings up (e.g. woven and beaded blankets) or does this definition of literature then become too ambiguous? These are questions I will mull over tonight, and I welcome further insights!

Works Cited

Chamberlin, Edward. If This is Your Land, Where are Your Stories? Finding Common Ground. AA. Knopf. Toronto. 2003. Print

King, Rita J. “How Twitter Is Reshaping The Future Of Storytelling.” Co.Exist. 22 May 2013. Web. 17 Jan. 2015.

“Literature.” Merriam-Webster. Merriam-Webster. Web. 16 Jan. 2015.

MacNeil, Courtney. “Orality.” The Chicago School of Media Theory. Uchicagoedublogs. 2007. Web. 19 Feb. 2013.

Hi there!

Let me begin by briefly introducing myself to those who have intentionally or perhaps accidentally stumbled upon my blog for ENGL 470! My name is Shamina and I hope to be pursuing a career in Social Work in the near future and am especially passionate about matters concerning mental health, immigration and child welfare. Although I have been residing in Canada for the majority of my life as a permanent resident, I did not become a Canadian citizen until I was in the tenth grade. Interestingly, however, I have always identified as “Canadian” and, for me, identity formation has been a complex and confusing process.

I am thrilled to be posting to my blog for the first time. For the duration of this course, this will serve as a vehicle for me to express my thoughts and share my analyses on the various pieces of Canadian literature we will all be looking at this semester, as well as specific themes of Aboriginal identity, nation-building, and so forth. I also hope that my posts will provide its readers with some thought-provoking insights that allow for further discussion in the comments section! The subject matter of ENGL 470 appealed to me instantly and the structure of the course is completely new to me. Despite having taken online courses before, I have never been introduced to a course that relied on participation and commentary as its crux, and I am so very excited to be a part of this new and exciting venture!

(Image source: Vancouver Observer)

The image I have chosen to share with you is of two passengers who were aboard the Komagata Maru ship which arrived in Vancouver from India in 1914 (read more about this here). Most immigrants aboard the ship were turned away from Canada. This image is iconic, especially amongst the South Asian communities residing within Canada. The “incident” has sparked much debate, and serves as a reminder of the exclusive legislations and regulations that sought to build Canada within a specific framework that favoured European settlers and immigration. I have chosen to share this image on my blog because I believe it illustrates the intentional creation of a specific hegemony within Canada’s nation and the often discriminatory practices that were used in the creation of dominant narratives. These immigration laws, however, are only one part of this exclusionary approach. The colonization and dispossession of Aboriginal land and their traditional way of life has been another such mechanism in the creation of these dominant ideologies.

In the past, I have taken courses (primarily in Sociology) that focus on the dominant narratives in nation-building through an analysis of historical timelines, immigration laws, etc. I am interested in taking ENGL 470 for the different angle it will take in addressing and uncovering these narratives. The focus on Canadian literature and its analysis allows for, I believe, a means of deciphering covert and symbolic messages that discuss and provide commentary on these narratives and alternative narratives. I cannot wait to put my analytic skills to the test!

Works Cited:

“History of Vancouver – Komagata Maru.” History of Vancouver – Komagata Maru. Web. 9 Jan. 2015. <http://www.vancouverhistory.ca/archives_komagatamaru.htm>.

“Lessons from the Komagata Maru.” Opinion. Web. 9 Jan. 2015. <http://www.vancouverobserver.com/opinion/lessons-komagata-maru>.

“Understand Permanent Resident Status.” Government of Canada, Citizenship and Immigration Canada, Communications Branch. Web. 9 Jan. 2015. <http://www.cic.gc.ca/english/newcomers/about-pr.asp>