“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 the 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 both King’s article and Robinson’s story.”

View from my reading nook at sunset, Nisga’a Nation Territories

To curb the silence of my days, I gravitated to this question. Unfortunately, I had nobody but my dog to read Harry Robinson’s Coyote Makes a Deal with the King of England to, and there was nobody to read it to me. But, alone, I read it three times, each time uncovering new pieces of information and, I think, hearing Robinson’s voice louder; more clearly.

The first time was before I had read the blog questions. I found myself reading aloud. Having read the introduction of Living by Stories and understanding that each story was orated to Wendy Wickwire, it made sense to me to read aloud; to listen for Robinson’s voice, or at least to develop a voice which I imagine to be like his.

In his article Godzilla vs. Post-Colonial, Thomas King refers to Robinson’s writing as interfusional, his term to describe “that part of Native literature which is a blending of oral literature and written literature,” (King 186). King tells us that often when oral literature is translated to English, the voice of the storyteller and the relationship to the storyteller are lost but, “by forcing the reader to read aloud, Robinson’s prose, to a large extent, avoids this loss, recreating at once the storyteller and the performance,” (King 186).

Robinson accomplishes this in many ways. Like with structure, his use of short, sometimes repetitive sentences, cueing the reader to imagine Robinson pensive; taking time as he offers the story. Sometimes, the structure is circular, returning to a detail several times before moving along, or slowly adding details while also using repetition: “Because whoever made that law, one of ’em was black and the other one was white. See, that’s the king, that was white. And Coyote was black—was an Indian. “Black and White.” They made that law. That’s the reason why they call that book, “Black and White,” the law, they call the law, “Black and White,” (Robinson). The slowed pace allows listeners to absorb details.

Performance is also developed through Robinson’s frequent use of “and” to begin sentences, indicative, to me, of realizing in the moment the importance of adding new details. We are there with him. Absorbed. Waiting for more.

Or Robinson’s direct engagement with the listener, through questions or assertions which, maybe with Wickwire, were responded to with nods or gesture. He asks, “do you know what the Angel was? Do you know? The Angel, God’s Angel, you know,” (Robinson). And, admittedly, I don’t know. This is a loss from reading his story in a book. In person I might’ve furrowed my brow, and Robinson would’ve known to elaborate. Or maybe he would’ve left me to fill the details.

Performance is also developed beyond painting a picture of the Coyote story itself; readers are led to envision the story telling when Robinson inserts himself and his gestures. When describing seeing the “Black and White,” Robinson states: “they was big, about this long and about this wide,” (Robinson) leading the reader to visualize Robinson and the way his hands were able to describe the size of the books.

Robinson shapes meaning through these techniques by reminding readers that storytelling is relational. Our relationship to the teller, to the content, to the place, all influence our understanding and the level of importance we place on the story. “For the non-Native reader, this literature provides a limited and particular access to a Native world, allowing the reader to associate with that world without being encouraged to feel a part of it,” (King 187-188).

An opportunity for settlers to be in relationship without trying to become.

An opportunity for Indigenous people to be reminded of the “continuing values of our cultures,”(King 188).

King would likely refer to this piece of storytelling as associational, as it is Native-centred and “a fiction that de-values heroes and villains in favour of the members of a community, a fiction which eschews judgements and conclusions,” (King 187) and, though it is dynamic, it tends to avoid “ubiquitous climaxes,” which King says non-Native stories adore (King 187).

A question for you: I’ve always read, even in my head, with different voices, rhythms, intonation, pauses. When I read, I hear a voice (either created by my imagination, influenced by people I’ve met, seen or heard, or based on the voice of the writer, from interviews, readings or videos).
Do you hear a voice? Do you create a voice? Or is reading ever flat, monotone? I know that when I read monotone, I am not grasping the words; not offering attention or care, but I’ve heard people read like this (I’m sympathetic to the fact it might have to do with comprehension, or fear), but I also wonder to what level a reader animates a reading and whether we’re able to perceive how we do this, how we voice what we read, in relation to other readers?

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Thanks for joining me. May we learn to listen deeply.

Works Cited

CBC Radio. ‘Our literatures matter because we do,’ says Indigenous author Daniel Heath Justice. March 16, 2018. Radio/ Online.

King, Thomas. “Godzilla vs. Post-Colonial.” Unhomely States: Theorizing English-Canadian Postcolonialism. Peterbough, ON: Broadview, 2004. 183- 190. Online.

Swiftwolfe, Dakota. Indigenous Ally Toolkit. Montreal Urban Aboriginal Community Strategy Network, 2019. Online.

Robinson, Harry. Living by Stories: a Journey of Landscape and Memory. Ed. Wendy Wickwire. Vancouver: Talonbooks, 2005. E-Book.