Author Archives: MadelaineWalker

Pages 399-409, 2007 Edition of Green Grass, Running Water

I chose these pages because I wanted to look at the lead up to the earthquake and the flood, and the varying points of view that tell this part of the story provide a wide range of references. King’s novel is saturated with double meanings and multiple layers, and it was fascinating to discover just how much he packs into every page, every character, every moment.

Babo and Dr. Hovaugh Get on the Bus

Dr. Joe Hovaugh is, as mentioned in the lecture for this week, a reference to both Jehovah and Northrop Frye. Babo has many layers to her name, as described by Jane Flick: the barber-turned-slave-revolt-leader aboard one of Melville’s fictional ships, the San Dominick, who masquerades as the displaced captain Cereno’s servant, in order to make sure Cereno does not betray the slaves. Flick also suggests a potential connection to a Wise Man drawn to the miracle pregnancy of Mary/Alberta. In the same reading guide is the only information I could find about the West Wind bus tours, led by Ralph: as a reference to wind as procreator.

There is also the continuation of the map metaphor in this section, as Dr. Hovaugh spreads one out next to him both in the diner and on the bus. He is intent on using the map to find the Indians, as though their position is indicated somewhere on that piece of paper. As my classmate, Danielle Vernon said in her discussion of the map metaphor in the novel, “If you don’t know where you are headed, a map might help you find places, but you might still feel lost…a map is just a tool, not a solution.” Hovaugh only makes sense out of the map through his use of what is only ever referred to as “the book” (GGRW 46, 399). When looking through Flick’s reading guide, the only reference to this peculiarity is under the heading “TURNING THE CHART AS HE WENT, LITERAL, ALLEGORICAL, TROPOLOGICAL, ANAGOGIC” and describes it as Northrop Frye’s book, The Great Code. Frye’s book is about the Bible and Literature, or, as Robert Alter argues in his review, “The Bible and Archetypes.” The connection to Frye is unsurprising, however, Hovaugh’s fictional copy of the book apparently lists the instances that the Indians went missing from his institution: “They’re all in the book. Occurrences, probabilities, directions, deviations. You can look them up for yourself” (GGRW 47). Now, while I haven’t read The Great Code, I found the table of contents on Google Books, and there’s nothing there to suggest a connection to the disasters that Hovaugh is interested in. An interesting conundrum, to be sure.

Sifton and Pick Spot Some Cars on the Horizon

Clifford Sifton is the namesake of Sir Clifford Sifton, who was Federal Minister of the Interior and Superintendent of Indian Affairs in the late 1900s. He pushed for the settlement of the west, and had little to no regard for minority rights. His friend in this section, Lewis Pick, also has a namesake: Colonel Lewis Pick, who was stationed in Omaha, Nebraska, in 1943, when the city faced three successive floods. King maintains the significance of names, as can be traced throughout the novel.

Bill Bursum Sees the Cars, Too

Buffalo Bill Bursum is a reference to both Buffalo Bill, symbol of the Western Frontier, as well as the Bursum Bill of 1922. The Bursum Bill would have given non-Indians any Pueblo land they had purchased before 1920, effectively stripping Pueblos of a large portion of their land. This bill was struck down, and ultimately brought attention to the importance of Indian Rights. This section is rather short, so the only other references are to locations: Ontario, Banff, Jasper, and Montana.

Dr. Hovaugh Finds His Car

Parliament Lake is a fictional creation of Sifton’s dam. Upon researching on the internet, I could find very little on Alberta’s manmade lakes, other than Abraham Lake, but what I could find often listed only 11 manmade lakes anyway. This fictional lake can be read as a modern attempt as creating the Garden of Eden, a paradise, but it’s “a strictly Western invention with no room for Native presence” (Totter), using western technology to create it, and only being available to those who can afford a piece of land, such as Bill Bursum. The only other reference is to Babo’s Pinto, drawing the connection between the car and the plains horse, as Flick does in her guide.

Sifton and Pick Count the Cars

A Nissan, a Pinto, and a Karmann-Ghia. Alberta’s car, Babo’s car, and Dr. Hovaugh’s car all meet up to destroy the dam. Somehow, these cars are floating on the lake, “sailing”  even (GGRW 407). Flick references these cars in her reading notes, but has little to say beyond the connection between the Pinto and its horse namesake, and the irony that Dr. Hovaugh, as a religious figure, has a “white” and “convertible” car (GGRW 407).

The Indians and Coyote Visit Eli

Eli Stands Alone is, according to Flick, a reference to Elijah Harper, who opposed the Meech Lake Accord in 1990. Harper was the only Aboriginal member of the Legislative Assembly of Manitoba , and stood up for Indigenous rights when he realized that the Meech Lake Accord put off Indigenous voices until another round of amendments could be made. I found a video here of the CBC reporting on the occasion.

“Lionel and Latisha and Norma and Alberta and Harley and Camelot” (GGRW 408) encompass all of Eli’s family. Lionel, Latisha, Norma, and Harley all appear to be original creations of King, but there is more significance to Alberta and Camelot’s names, as both women are named for a well-known location. Alberta Frank is a reference to Frank, Alberta, the site of a rock slide tragedy at the foot of Turtle Mountain. Camelot is the name of King Arthur’s kingdom.

The Four Old Indians also make an appearance. Lone Ranger, Ishmael, Robinson Crusoe, and Hawkeye all are references to popular western figures that feature some connection to an Indigenous sidekick, such as Tonto, Queequeg, Friday, and Chingachgook, respectively. Each of the former characters takes a position of authority over the latter, to some degree. Throughout all of the novel, King takes back that power by having the Women take on the names of the heroes, and delegate the sidekick roles to the (usually white, Christian) male figures they encounter in the creation stories.

Coyote also appears briefly, as he has been following the Four Old Indians up to this point. As we have already established, Coyote is a key figure in Indigenous mythology, the power and symbolism of the deity changing depending on the different tribe’s stories. In this part of the novel, Coyote is the one who dances and sings (GGRW 409) and causes the dam to burst. Whereas the Four Old Indians probably brought the three cars to the lake (as well as Coyote), it is suggested in later pages that the cars were merely the tools implemented by the earthquake caused by Coyote to break the dam and cause the flood.

WORKS CITED

Alter, Robert. “Northrop Frye: The Great Code: The Bible and Literature. Harcourt Brace Jovanovich. 261 pp. $14.95.” Blake Issue Archive, vol. 17, no. 1, Summer 1983. Web. 18 Nov 2016.

“Benito Cereno (Part III).” Sparknotes, 2016. Web. 19 Nov 2016.

“Character Analysis Queequeg.” CliffsNotes, 2016. Web. 19 Nov 2016.

“Col. Lewis Pick.” Savages and Scoundrels. 2012. Web. 19 Nov 2016.

The Editors of Encyclopædia Brittanica. “Chingachgook.” Encyclopædia Brittanica, 7 May 2010. Web. 19 Nov 2016.

Flick, Jane. “Reading Notes for Thomas King’s Green Grass, Running Water.” Canadian Literature, no. 161/162, Summer/Autumn 1999, pp. 140-172.

“Frank Slide-Turtle Mountain.” Mysteries of Canada, 2016. Web. 19 Nov 2016.

Frye, Northrop. “The Great Code: The Bible and Literature.” Collected Works of Northrop Frye, edited by Alvin A. Lee, vol. 19, University of Toronto Press, 2006. Web. 19 Nov 2016.

“History: Statehood.” New Mexico Art Museum. Web. 19 Nov 2016.

Infinity Plus One. “Relationship Between Robinson Crusoe and Friday.” FictionPress, 27 Sept 2004. Web. 19 Nov 2016.

“Meech Lake: A Vote of Protest.” CBC Player, 12 June 1990. Web. 19 Nov 2016.

“Native American Coyote Mythology.” Native-Lanuages.org, 2015. Web. 19 Nov 2016.

Paterson, Erika. “Lesson 3.3.” ENGL 470A: Canadian Literary Genres: Canadian Studies, 2013. Web. 18 Nov 2016.

“Sire Clifford Sifton.” Manitoba Business Hall of Fame, 2014. Web. 19 Nov 2016.

“Tonto.” The Lone Ranger Wiki. Web. 19 Nov 2016.

Totter, Eileen. “Killing John Wayne: Intertextual Revision in Green Grass, Running Water.” Georgia College Corinthian. Web. 19 Nov 2016.

Vernon, Danielle. “38.” Exploration of Canadian Literature, 10 Nov 2016. Web. 18 Nov 2016.

Something that I particularly enjoyed about reading Green Grass, Running Water was the different narrators and narrative styles that all blend together in the novel. The first person engaging with Coyote as the framing narrative, the oral style of the creation stories as told by Four Old Indians, and the third person restricted telling of the modern stories of Lionel, Alberta, and Eli. The second one is most interesting to me, because it is far less common than the others. Rather than pick a point of view and run with it, the narrator is one of the Four Old Indians, despite the fact that each time they take a turn telling their creation story, it starts with the four of them getting organized enough to start the story. They are characters in their own tales that they themselves are telling, and that stuck with me throughout the whole novel.

When I first read the Four Old Indians, I only understood two of the four cultural allusions. I assumed each one was somehow related to a portrayal of a First Nations character, but I didn’t know who Ishmael was, and the only Hawkeye I knew of was the Marvel character. To be honest, I didn’t try looking up these other two characters, partially because most of the time I was reading this while on the bus, and partially because I expected the meaning of each name to become clear as the story progressed. I got that with Ishmael, recognizing the story of the white whale, but I had never heard Hawkeye’s story before.

After finishing the novel, I Google searched a couple of references that I recognized as such, but didn’t know enough about. I read up a little more on Ishmael, primarily interested in his relationship with Queequeg. I also discovered Hawkeye is only one name of many for the character Natty Bumppo, from James Fenimore Cooper’s series, The Leatherstocking Tales. Natty Bumppo is a meeting point between the romanticized “Indian” nature and European/American civilization, much like Robinson Crusoe and the Lone Ranger.

The story from which each of these characters come exemplifies the power dynamic between the Civilized White Man and the Noble Savage. King deliberately turns this dynamic on its head by presenting the Indigenous women as the main hero character, coerced into their role by their interaction with the irrational white men in their stories. King also mixes in various European/American cultural myths: the Garden of Eden, Noah’s Ark, and Moby Dick, to name a few. Including cultural myths beyond just creation stories identifies the assumptions made about each role, and the confines within which they are forced to exist. It is only the Women who are able to break free from the boundaries of the recognizable tales, whereas the characters they encounter resist any changes with all their might. This may reflect the origins of each story; the Women come from an oral tradition, whereas the European/American cultural myths are all written literature, where change and organic evolution of stories is almost unheard of.

King’s blending of these cultural myths questions the value of an unchanging canon, and the Four Old Indians’ tales create an overall creation story of their own origins, as well as the current condition of the world, which, coincidentally, the Four Old Indians are trying to change, one story at a time. This time, the story is that of Lionel, Alberta, and Eli.

WORKS CITED

“Fenimore’s Natty Bumppo.” James Fenimore Cooper: a Literary Pioneer. American Studies at the University of Virginia. Web. 10 November 2016.

“Ishmael.” Moby Dick. Shmoop. Web. 12 November 2016.

King and Robinson both use a much more prominent storyteller voice to tell their stories, rife with repetition, when compared to western literature. However, the structure of Robinson’s tale almost begs for it to be read aloud. The strange grammar, the short sentences or sentence fragments, as well as the physical appearance of the line breaks creates a chaotic and difficult to follow style of communication. When I tried to read it silently in my head, I found it nearly impossible to understand. Reading aloud allows you to experience the story with another sense, so I tried that. When I read it aloud to myself, it was far easier to follow what was happening, and the significance of certain lines. I connected with the piece far more than if I had merely read it in my head.

King, on the other hand, uses the storytelling voice in a friendlier way. Instead of having to almost battle with the language, King’s storyteller voice blends smoothly with the more traditionally western style sections. Green Grass, Running Water seems to be a reconciliation of styles, in the alternating narrative voices, although it is important to recognize the influence of the oral storytelling notes in the more western sections, particularly the repetition in the dialogue between characters.

The presence of the Christian God differs in each narrative. In Robinson’s tale, God is an influence on the world through the messages of an Angel. His only act in this story is to tell Coyote to go make a deal with the King of England, and the Angel speaks in the same grammar pattern as the rest of the narrative style. In King’s story, Coyote is the one that creates God, and God is a rather ridiculous creature that starts out as a Dream. This Dream becomes a Dog with ambition, and then God. Once established as God, He becomes rather distant and aloof, much like the God in Robinson’s tale, but without that Angel to create a further degree of separation.

The Coyotes in each tale are recognizable as the powerful trickster, playing with humans. A fog surrounds Robinson’s Coyote whenever people try to come and take pictures of him. King’s Coyote is revealed (spoiler alert!) is have caused Alberta’s pregnancy, because she wanted a baby but not the hassle of a man.

However, once again, King’s characterization of Coyote is more playful than Robinson’s. Robinson casts Coyote more along the lines of a clever force to be reckoned with. This matches his more solemn version of God, and the overall focus of his piece. King takes a different approach, presenting primarily his fun-loving and chaotic energy. Coyote forgets the consequences of his actions, and several times accidentally creates something: whether that be the Dog-turned-God, a thunderstorm, or perhaps the flood at the end.

For each writer, their portrayals of God and Coyote are to create the specific tone of their work, and to complement the story each is telling. Robinson is telling a story of the origin of “Black and White” law, Indian and European relations. King is telling a story connecting the present to the past, weaving Christian and Indigenous creation myths into the fabric of a story about coming home for the Sun Dance.

WORKS CITED

“Reading Aloud.” The Writing Center at UNC-Chapel Hill. Web. 31 Oct 2016.

Allen, Peter J and Saudners, Chas. “Coyote.” Godchecker. 25 March 2013. Web. 31 Oct 2016.

Judge McEachern’s response to the map from the Gitxsan and Wet’suwet’en was to call it “the map that roared” (Sparke 468). In his article “A Map that Roared and an Original Atlas: Canada, Cartography, and the Narration of a Nation,” Matthew Sparke identifies three possible readings of this statement, the first of which is the “colloquial notion of a paper tiger” (468). A paper tiger refers to something that appears threatening but is in reality ineffectual, according to dictionary.com. The phrase comes from a Chinese expression, most famously appearing in Mao’s Little Red Book. Providing a map as evidence in a court case tends to be pretty concrete, but McEachern was either unable or refused to acknowledge the stories outlined in the map of the Gitxsan and Wet’suwet’en. The map had potential to be strong evidence, supporting the First Nations’ case, but it ultimately proved ineffectual, most likely due to McEachern’s biases, internalized or otherwise. A paper tiger may have a mighty roar, but is easily balled up and thrown away.

(Image courtesy of The Comic Ninja)

Sparke’s second suggestion is that McEachern is referencing The Mouse that Roared, a 1959 Peter Sellers film. This film is a comedy based on a satirical novel by Leonard Wibberly. The story is about the fictional, impoverished nation of the Duchy of Grand Fenwick, that decides to engage in a war against the United States and lose, but things don’t go according to plan. The correlation here is that a tiny and presumed insignificant nation has taken up arms (metaphorically, in the case of the Gitxsan and Wet’suwet’en map) against a larger, imperious body. In the fictional story, however, the smaller nation ends up with the power to subordinate the other, larger nations, and thus coordinate a movement towards world peace. Much of the satire in both the novel and the film adaptation also centres on the geopolitics of the Cold War, an interesting connection to the geopolitics of the case. If this is the reference McEachern made, it’s more likely that he intended it to be a dismissal of the potential power of the map, rather than the recognition of that potential to turn the case in the favour of those First Nations.

Both of these readings indicate McEachern’s intent to indicate the “plaintiffs as a ramshackled, anachronistic nation” (468). His ruling in favour of the defendant (the government) further reinforces his belief system when it comes to First Nations rights.

Sparke’s third reading is based on a political cartoon by Don Monet: “a cartoonist working for the Gitxsan and Wet’suweten:” “the resistance in the First Nations’ remapping of the land: the cartography’s roaring refusal of the orientation systems… and all the other accoutrements of Canadian colonialism on native land” (468). This is likely not what McEachern was trying to say, but it turns his degrading comment on its head and becomes a mode of empowerment. Many minorities have done something similar when they have taken terms or phrases of degradation and turned them into a positive term for themselves; they take back the language that oppressed them. And in the end, McEachern’s decision was overturned, opening up more possibilities for First Nations when negotiating with the Canadian government.

WORKS CITED

“Paper Tiger.” Def. 1. Dictionary.com. Dictionary.com Unabridged, 2016. Web. 21 Oct 2016.

Sparke, Matthew. “A Map that Roared and an Original Atlas: Canada, Cartography, and the Narration of a Nation.” Annals of the Association of American Geographers 88.3 (1998): 463- 495. Web. 20 Oct. 2016.

troz2000. “The Mouse the Roared TRailer.” Online Video Clip. Youtube, 17 May 2008. Web. 21 Oct 2016.

Watterson, Bill. “Calvin and Hobbes.” The Comic Ninja. N.p. 19 Nov 2011. Web. 21 Oct 2016.

Logically, there can only be one creation story taken as truth. Otherwise, it would be inherently contradicted by any other creation story. People have used false dichotomies to argue for the truth of their preferred creation story, but as explained in this video by carneades.org, there is also a third option of another deity creating the world, or even a fourth, being the Big Bang Theory (here’s an interesting story going into more detail on the scientific creation theory).

Thomas King presents two creation stories in the either/or scenario, suggesting that one is more believable over the other. He sets up the dichotomy of the collaboration-focused ‘The Earth Diver’ and the hierarchical ‘Genesis’ tales, operating under the idea that one must choose which story to believe in to make his point.

King presents his readers with this choice to illustrate the fundamental difference between European and Native cultures:due to the nature of oral storytelling, Indigenous stories are generally more subjective and adaptable, with an emphasis on collaboration, while European stories are based almost entirely on this hierarchical structure, reflecting and justifying their societal values. He also uses the correspondingly anticipated voice to tell each of the creation myths, the storyteller voice for ‘The Earth Diver’ and the authoritative voice for ‘Genesis.’ These different voices accentuate the oral tradition and rationalistic values of the respective cultures.

European society was originally structured according to monarchy and class divisions, falling into the hierarchy perpetrated by the Genesis creation story. This sense of human superiority is inherent to this structure, and within that is an individualistic superiority.

Sure, life might suck right now, but at least there’s someone worse off than me. If I behave like a good Christian, I’ll get into heaven. Someone else is a worse Christian than me, so they’re going to hell.

As King says, “we [are], certainly, the most arrogant” (28).

In contrast, the creation story of ‘The Earth Diver’ highlights the effectiveness of cooperation. This is not to say that there wasn’t a semblance of hierarchy in the many Indigenous tribes in North America, but it does suggest that this hierarchy wasn’t a core value, and therefore not as rigid or as integral to their sense of self identity as it was for the Europeans.

King has spent this particular chapter of the book discussing the power and effect of stories, and this dichotomy between the authoritative Genesis and the more casual Earth Diver exemplifies the purchase that the mode of storytelling can have. As King says, “As for stories such as the Woman Who Fell from the Sky, well, we listen to them and then we forget them, for amidst the thunder of Christian monologues, they have neither purchase nor place” (21). The Christian creation story is almost invariably told with the same rigid tone that brooks no argument, while any Indigenous creation myth isn’t taken seriously outside of the tribe it is important to, as King quotes Basil Johnston (23).

The way we tell a story almost always mirrors the values within the story itself. King contrasts and dichotomizes these two creation myths to show, rather than tell, the reader this lesson, while also subtly hinting at the subject of the next chapter, wherein he discusses the White Man’s Indian. The relationship here is in the absolute conviction in his beliefs, to the point of stupidity, of the white or European man. The Genesis tale and the Ideal Indian are both stories created and unwaveringly accepted by White Men, as both fictions uphold their sense of superiority and hierarchy, their place as close to the top as they can reach.

WORKS CITED

Carneades.org. “False Dichotomy (Logical Fallacy).” Online Video Clip. Youtube, 18 Feb 2014. Web. 7 Oct 2016.

Holliday, Dan. “How do atheists explain the Earth’s formation?” Quora. 4 Jan 2015. Web. 7 Oct 2016.

King, Thomas. The Truth About Stories. House of Anansi Press Inc, 2003. Print.

Something that Karo said in her most recent blog post really resonated with me: “Home is where the heart has been.” In reading my fellow students’ stories about how they found their own definitions of home, this statement has been present in my mind. Maybe it will make more sense with a list of the three biggest similarities between these stories:

-Significance of family

-Impermanence of place

-Childhood influences

In each of these stories, the presence of family was vital to each writer’s definition of home. Whether it was a sibling, or grandparents, or friends that created that sense of family, every story I read agreed that home could not be the same without that intense connection. For myself, as well, family plays a huge role in where I feel most comfortable and at home. Without that feeling of unconditional love and support, it can be hard to feel secure in any environment.

Many of these writers found that they only came to think about what home means when home was taken away from them, or they had to leave for whatever reason. Uprooting your whole life to move to another country, or even just down the street, still threatens the stability of your home. Moving proves that home can change, whether it’s just the address that changes, or the people, that thought is frightening. I think we tend to think about what home means so that we know how to find it again, or at least know what to look for.

The impact of childhood experiences and what was considered ‘home’ as a child is also common to these stories, which makes sense considering the impact of family on a child. Many writers discussed their childhood homes, at least in contrast to the ones they have now. That element of nostalgia for a childhood home influenced what was important for the home they now have, or are looking for.

For all of these commonalities, however, each and every writer came to a different conclusion for what ‘home’ truly is. Geographical site was a factor for some, whereas for the most part geography mattered mostly in terms of proximity to close family members. Some of them built a new home in the people they found, while others watched the place they call home disappear.

If you Google image search “home,” all you get are pictures of generic looking houses, and maybe a movie poster. But clearly, a house does not make a home, and while not everyone defines home the same way, I think we all can agree that family is the most important ingredient.

WORKS CITED

Google Search. Google. 3 Oct 2016. Web. 3 Oct 2016.

Koivukangas, Karoliina. “Assignment 2.2 Home?” Karo’s Thoughts on Canadian Lit. 28 Sept 2016. Web. 3 Oct 2016.

Gif courtesy of the CW, via Geek and Sundry: geekandsundry.com/how-to-run-a-supernatural-dd-campaign/

My home is a complicated in-between. Home is a sense of family, of security in the knowledge that someone is always there to support you. But my blood family is far from where I live, where I have carved out a little slice of the world to create a home for myself. I still say that I’m going “home” for Christmas, even though I haven’t lived in California for three years. That home is where my parents live, where I grew up, the sidewalks drenched in memories of childhood, friendship, and adventure.

But I have new sidewalks now, a familiar unknown, the mountains a constant presence to the north, a comforting reassurance that I know where I am, and I know where I’m going. Here, I have found friendship in strangers, and started to paint the walls with new memories.

I have always loved travelling, and this summer, I went on a month long trip to Europe. I visited Paris, Amsterdam, Berlin, London, and Scotland. In each city, I explored this place that was home to so many others, and in Scotland in particular, I was told so many stories that all came together to form a strong sense of Scottish identity. I spent that time listening to these stories in Scotland with my mother and brother, and with my best friend from high school. I had family with me, and my entire life I believed that family was enough to make anywhere a home.

For the first two weeks, I was so caught up in the adventure, in the new places and new people that I didn’t notice what was missing.  Like Huffington Post blogger Sascha Jones, I, too, “have been blessed with the family I have. They have always made me feel united, connected, supported and loved. I realise that not everyone experiences this with blood ties, however family can also include an extended clan, a group of people where an unconditional love and connection exist.” Despite being with the people I’d grown up with, who’d made Alameda my home for the first 18 years of my life, I was lacking that sense of rightness, of home.

I’ve always read in stories and heard in songs that home is a person, or people. As the famous Canadian Justin Bieber says, “we could be homeless,” but it’ll all be okay “as long as you love me,” because our relationship is all the home we need to be happy.

What I’ve discovered, though, is that home is a culmination of things. True, it has a lot to do with the people you surround yourself with, your tribe, a term popularized by Sebastian Junger’s book Tribe. And that can be enough to make a home. But I’ve found recently that, for me, it is just as important to be in the right city.

I was sitting on a hostel bed in Amsterdam, looking at messages from my friends and all their photos of Vancouver moments, when I realized something significant. On this grand journey across another continent, I found I was, for the first time in my life, homesick. It wasn’t tear-inducing, or frightening, but it was important, because no matter how much I travel, which I fully intend to do, I will always come back to Vancouver.

Vancouver is by no means a utopia, but this vibrant city sandwiched between mountains and ocean has so many pockets that are glimpses into another world, and when I look at Vancouver from the roof of my house on the top of a hill, all I can see for miles are treetops and rooftops standing side by side.

My love affair with Vancouver has allowed me to find my own home, independent of the family who raised me.

Alameda will always be my childhood home, where I learned to read on Tintin comics and picture books, where I first encountered the feeling of that desire to write, to create a story for others, where I had my first kiss and where my parents got divorced and where I learned to drive.

But Vancouver is also my home, where I learned the power of words, where I reaffirmed my passion for theatre, and sharing those stories with others, where I first kissed a girl and where I had to say goodbye to my best friend and where I learned so much about myself as an individual person.

Both places are full of memories, and stories of my life, and stories I found and loved. Both places have people that love and support me. Both places are my home.

To be simultaneously at home and away from home is a strange mixture of nostalgia and excitement for the future, but it is an in-between place that I am thankful for. I may be in-between two homes, but at least I have somewhere I know I belong.

I leave you with the song that inspired the title: “One Great City!” by the Weakerthans. The key line that is repeated throughout the song is “I hate Winnipeg,” but I hear it as a love song for the city they’re from, despite all its flaws.

WORKS CITED

Crawford, Matthew B.”Sebastian Junger’s ‘Tribe’.” The New York Times. 27 May 2016. Web. Accessed 26 Sept. 2016.

Hodkinson, Jessie. “As Long As You Love Me Lyrics.” A-Z Lyrics. Web. Accessed 26 Sept. 2016.

Jones, Sascha. “Finding Your Tribe.” Huffington Post. 28 Sept. 2015. Web. Accessed 26 Sept. 2016.

Kabiri Nika. “The Value of Finding Your Tribe.” Huffington Post. 1 August 2016. Web. Accessed 26 Sept. 2016.

TheLastGoodName. “The Weakerthans – One Great City!” Online Video Clip. Youtube, 4 Sept. 2010. Web. Accessed 26 Sept. 2016.

Once, there were three siblings, sometimes brothers, sometimes sisters, and sometimes neither. They were as old as the ground they danced on, and as carefree as the blue sky above them.

One day, they decided to have a contest. The one who could tell the most interesting story won. They invited all of the animals, who would vote on the best story.

The first one told a story about the depths of the ocean, and the rivers that were its fingers reaching around to hug the earth. As she spoke, water poured forth from her hands and filled all the crevices on the earth. Some of the water leapt into the air and gathered together to make a storm cloud, and this is how she got her name, Rain.

The second one told a story about the sun’s love for the earth, and how when he kissed her, the flames of his love caught in the branches of the trees. As he spoke, fire grew up from his feet and caught in the grass, casting a warm glow on the animals. This is how he got his name, Fire.

The third sibling was the youngest, and wanted to prove themself the wiser and cleverer sibling. They began to weave an epic tale, full of vicious pain, and senseless war, and horrific death, where the hero faced an enemy so powerful, the animals began to lose hope.

The storm cloud above them grew darker, casting shadows upon the animals and rumbling angrily at the injustice.

The fire in the grass became afraid for the hero, and ran away, leaving a trail of blackened and burned grass in its wake.

And finally, as the third story came to a close, the villain crawled out of the storyteller’s mouth and into the world, and the villain was Evil. He vanished as soon as they named him, and the third sibling was not given a name, for fear of vanishing into everything just as Evil had done.

The siblings saw the potential chaos in their creations, and tried desperately to take it all back. But the storm cloud had travelled to the mountains, the fire hid deep in the forest, and Evil had disappeared on the wind, like mist or smoke.

The storm cloud raged and poured a heavy rain on the animals. The fire fled across the land, destroying many of the animals’ homes. And while Evil did nothing, the possibility of his presence was enough to fill them all with a sense of dread and suspicion.

All told, there was no winner of the contest, and each sibling had learned the power of stories, and did not tell another one for a long time.

I told this story three times, once to my roommate, once to my family, and once to myself. Each time, the way I phrased the story changed, the minute details becoming irrelevant, or I would have a more poetic way to phrase it. Sometimes there would even be extraneous details that hadn’t been in the previous versions and weren’t in the next. And each time, the reception was different. My roommate was impressed by how I told the story, while my brother was more interested in the story itself. And when I was telling it to myself, I was much less focused on the performance of it and more on talking my around to hitting all the key points, no matter how small. Oral storytelling is greatly affected by both the teller, the listener, and their relationship. And once you tell a story, it cannot be untold.

Stories are fluid creatures: their affect on the reader changes depending on a million different little things, such as when and where the story was told, and by whom, and the reader’s experience themselves. The manner in which the story is delivered is also a major influence on how the audience comes to understand the piece.

There are two main ways a story can be delivered: written or performed. In this day and age, modern technology has created new ways to consume stories that build off of these two categories. While oral performance is the most common, in the everyday stories we share with friends and family, film and the internet have developed to allow performed stories to be recorded, and re-experienced, by both those who were there for the initial performance, and those who will only ever see it on YouTube.

With the rise of the internet and today’s high literacy rates, nearly everyone in the world has the ability to put their voice out there and share their own stories. This means greater access to the stories of marginalized people, who otherwise may not have as globalized a platform from which to speak. Fanfiction is a popular type of online publication that allows minorities to create more representation in the stories they already know and love. “Headcanons” are an individual’s interpretations of specific elements of an already existing story. By writing new stories, or rewriting previously existing ones, beloved characters can change race, gender, ability, sexual orientation, or any number of characteristics. The internet provides widespread publication for these stories, as well as the opportunity for them to reach a wider audience, particularly those who crave to see themselves represented in the media.

The internet acts as a filter for stories in multiple ways. The website a story is posted on will change the expectations of the reader, which always affects the initial experience. Beyond that, for recordings of live performances, the angle of the camera and the quality of the footage affects the performance itself, exactly as if it were being told secondhand, with some forgotten or omitted details and sometimes missing the important action. This changes the story from the initial live performance, telling a slightly different version. However, this slightly different version can be told the exact same way, with all of the same differences, whereas the live performance will never be the same twice.

An intriguing variation on this is the Podcast, an audio performance of storytelling available on the internet through various venders such as iTunes, various other podcast apps, or even on YouTube. Podcasts, whether fictional or not, are most often designed, written, and/or performed to be a podcast. Similar to a radio show, this kind of performance does not change the text the same way other oral storytelling can. It is recorded the once, and any difference in the nuances of the text is entirely down to the listener.

In the lecture for 1:2, the professor established the (perhaps fading) distinction between literacy and orality. I would like to suggest that podcasts may be the meeting ground of these two kinds of storytelling, as it is an aural experience that changes depending on the location where the story is heard, and the person who is listening. Some podcasts are even designed to be connected to a specific place. (I’m thinking of a specific one set in Vancouver, but I’m unable to find it, despite my best google efforts. I will share this podcast with everyone once I’ve found it!) However, the story itself changes very little in terms of the text of the story. There is a difference between a podcast and oral storytelling, but there is also a difference between podcasts and literature.

I’m interested to see what other people have to say about where podcasts fall in this spectrum of storytelling methods. Share your thoughts in the comments!

WORKS CITED

“Adult and Youth Literacy.” UIS Fact Sheet. UNESCO Institute for Statistics. Sept 2013. Web. 18 Sept 2016.

Welcome to Night Vale. “1-Pilot.” Online Video Clip. Youtube, 14 Jan 2015. Web. 18 Sept 2016.