What makes literature ‘truly Canadian’? | The Journal

As a followup to my blog post on changing ideas about Canadian Literature, I happened across an article that articulates the same problematic questions I encountered when questioning a nationalized view of what constitutes ‘Canadian’ identity:

“What’s the novel all Canadians should read? That’s the question at the core of CBC’s Canada Reads competition.”

The problem with choosing one text to encompass a multitude of perspectives is that we limit our understanding of what it means to be ‘Canadian’ or to have a ‘Canadian’ experience. While a nationalistic view is unifying for citizens, it also overlooks the specific regional qualities that define the varying aspects of Canadian culture across the country. While Canadian authors should be celebrated and commended, the notion that one perspective or narrative is more ‘Canadian’ than another reinforces and privileges the problematic stereotypes.

Check out the article here: What makes literature ‘truly Canadian’? | The Journal

Take cover(s)!

You can be that person battling the rain with a little foldable umbrella in one hand and two bags of groceries in the other, praying your backpack is still waterproof, or you can be the prepared mom-person who wears a raincoat, stuffs all the non-squishable groceries in her backpack, and then covers the backpack with a backpack rain cover.

You can be that person who’s like, “Yeah fruits can get wet, they’re in grocery bags, they’ll dry off.” Or you can be that person who transfers everything into one bag and uses the second to cover the groceries, lest the avocados and milk get drenched (but you’re actually protecting the strawberries and Pillsbury Easter cookies, let’s be real.)

What did I learn today? I’d rather be the wallflower dork with the bright backpack cover than the drowned rat with wet notes because my backpack, I discovered recently, is no longer waterproof. Particularly on the middle section where my water bottle goes. You know, because keeping water bottles dry is the ultimate goal.

I mean, it doesn’t look that embarrassing, right?

The Difference in Studying the Humanities: Then and Now

“A watery lexicon and syntax, a hydro logical approach could cultivate our capacity to scale down to the level of molecules and up to the level of oceans. It could also better attune our senses to the range of languages that traverse the human and nonhuman realms, enabling us to transition between the dialects of the domesticated, the wild, the feral. If I can learn to parse a salmon’s journey or a human sentence, then hopefully, I might be able to speak nearby a river, if I keenly listen to its shape shifting grammar, it’s stubborn flow despite human obstacles and impositions. These are the fluid literatures I believe we need to relearn and adapt for the future.”
(Rita Wong, “Untapping Watershed Mind”)

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One of the requirements in graduate school is to complete at least one course in each time period. Although this is sometimes a hindrance to others, I call it a blessing in disguise.

Last term, I spent four months learning about the humanist education system in Renaissance England. I more or less delved deep into the source texts of Shakespeare’s plays, and the contemporary plays to the Shakespearean canon, which tends to be our only general exposure to the Renaissance outside of English literary studies. My historical research thus involved learning about discipline in the grammar schools, such as physical beatings to enforce Latin recitations, in addition to consulting the humanist texts and pedagogy.

Traditionally, humanists look to the past for examples (as do most people since examples, well, come from… the past). Not only did they draw on classical texts and ideals, but they based their entire learning system on mimicking it. The Renaissance, after all, is a rebirth of the Classical time period. Humanist learning today, also looks to the past. Whether it is philosophy, classics, history, languages, etc., humanities students also study everything from “the greats,” however controversial that term may be (and I’m rolling my eyes at you if you’re glaring at my colloquial and likely offensive generalizing and prioritizing use of the term), to the contemporary works. But after eavesdropping on invigoratingly heated but professional conversations, as one does while casually sitting in a common room, I realized just how much the humanities values the historical past.

And now I switch to “humanities” in terms of English Literature.

English students are increasingly more interested in post-modern and contemporary literature and are foregoing the, shall we say, “traditional” canon. Though I’m sure we all love Beowulf, claim our favourite Shakespeare play is one that isn’t covered in high schools, can breakdown Robinson Crusoe in a few minutes, dream of or despise dancing daffodils (ALERT: I’M A WORDSWORTH FAN), and sing praises of T.S. Eliot, we can’t deny that it seems like the secret to luring students is expanding beyond the traditional canon and allowing ourselves to be intrigued by contemporary literature.

Looking forward or placing “too much” importance on the contemporary world in this way is so often condemned. While I’m not disregarding the importance of a sound foundation built from the traditional literary canon, I am arguing for the respect of contemporary issues embodied in contemporary literature. We are not in the Renaissance anymore. We can and should look to past texts the way humanists looked to classical texts, but we should not limit ourselves to them. There is undeniable value in making relevant contemporary conversations through literature and literary analysis.

This term, I’m studying permaculture and ecocriticism – not just in literature, but in visual arts, activism like guerrilla gardening, film, etc. Even if I’m not reading a “book” I’m reading criticism, and I’m applying literary analysis tools to these other forms of expression. I would not have the confidence or skills to do so without my strong literary background in, YES, THE TRADITIONAL CANON, but I am more intrigued by applying a humanist’s perspective to the world in which I currently live.

In the true humanities fashion, I look to the past for examples as the past drives my love of literature, but I look to the past, to the present and to the future, for the inspiration to drive my curiosity. Stop studying the humanities then; start studying the humanities now.

A little critical thinking, but it works (out).

Choosing courses seemed to be one of the most stressful periods of my undergraduate experience. Since I am completing a course-based Master’s program, I had the opportunity to… choose… courses… again.

However, unlike undergrad, I wasn’t choosing between American or Canadian Literature Survey courses, but between poetry of a small, regional area, or an ecocritical and national, fiction course. Having no experience studying Canadian Literature, this presented a dilemma with the standard questions: “How do I know if I’m going to be interested in something that specific at this early point in time?” Cue: Flashbacks to Grade Ten when we had to choose a university path at the tender, young age of 15 years old.

Well, I am here to tell you that it works out. I think that’s my current mantra, and I’m sure I will change my mind and panic another day, but so far, it works out. I never thought that I had an interest in Canadian Literature, for the sole fact that mainstream Canadian literature just doesn’t seem to align with my literary interests. However, in my fourth year of undergrad, I studied Canadian poetry and fiction of the Great War for a seminar class and boy, did that change my mind!

I ended up writing my graduate school thesis proposal about Canadian and children’s literature, and although I am not pursuing the thesis project in favour of taking more courses before I focus my research on one area, I remain fascinated by the intersections of K-12 pedagogy and Canadian children’s literature. After the seminar course on literature of the Great War, I also became interested in the construction of a national Canadian identity and how immigrant perspectives play into this identity. What I did not realize about this proposal was how narrow and optimistic my ideas of the “national Canadian identity” really were.

In a way, the propaganda literature convinced me, despite retrospectively reading the works 100 years later.

And my ideas of constructing a wonderful national identity- well, they lacked the voice of someone who was not afraid to challenge the optimistic ideal. I am confident these issues would have arisen early enough in my project to correct and modify the thesis of course, but I am happy I was able to gain perspective on these ideas simply by taking a course on regional Canadian poetry.

The first couple of weeks of my new Canadian poetry course consisted of studying Al Purdy, who was a poet that, to this day, is consistently used as an anthologized example of the Canadian national voice. Our discussions in class, informed by Mark Silverberg’s “The Can(adi)onization of Al Purdy,” revealed the limitations of considering a work through the checklist definitions of “Canadian” literature. By reading Purdy’s poetry through the lens of a nationalist perspective, nuances and subtleties of his poetry become lost in the midst of the wilderness landscape, survival, and self-deprecating voice (to name a few of Silverberg’s examples). We were rejecting the singularly traditional readings of Purdy as a nationalist example. That is to say, we were not rejecting Purdy as a Canadian poet, but table-fipping the elements of “Canadian identity” and pressing them against the regional and other aspects of the poetry.

With this renewed perspective, I was able to question what is it about national identity that is so appealing to me when in fact, it might not truly exist in a country so varied and dynamic. Sorry, I don’t have the answer. But it’s an interesting direction that I cannot ignore, especially considering my would-be research interests are sitting on the floor, having just been flipped off of a table.

What in the world does this have to do with choosing courses? It works out. I was hesitant to take this course, but after this feeling of excitement and enlightenment (I’m on my way to being the next Dalai Lama), I know things work out. Had I not taken this course, I never would have gained perspective in the exact opposite way my argument would have gone. *dramatic pause* Thanks, life.

It works out.

Finding your Big-Girl Pants: Part 1½

We’re now two weeks into classes and three weeks since Orientation started. Incase my online absence is suspiciously pointing towards two weeks of socializing and making new friends, need I remind the world of my social skills? Silly, world. Since my last post, my very optimistic sounding post, I have come face-to-face with more big-girl things. And since I like lists, here we go:

1. Leaky tap. Fill out a work order form for the apartment superintendent and hope that it gets fixed while panicking at the idea that you have just given someone permission to enter your apartment at some point, even when you are not home. *Hides laundry loonies*
2. Orange Juice. Since the local farmer’s market has been stocked with a wonderful surplus of choice in vegetables, fruit, and baked goods, I have somehow managed to avoid stepping foot in a grocery store for three weeks. The market does not, however, have orange juice. The one substance I require to function the way plants need carbon dioxide. Or humans and oxygen. You know. So I put on my big-girl pants and rode the bus to the shopping centre where I happily strolled through Loblaws, really buttoning up those big-girl pants when I had to ask for a rain check on the out-of-stock-on-sale-orange-juice. That’s what happens when you go to the grocery store after noon, people. Lesson: Wake up and get your groceries early. 
3. Laundry. I may have ironed my shirt in my last blog post, but I never actually did the whole washing machine/dryer routine. When you leave laundry for 3 weeks, and try to fit the whole dark load into one load, things do not get washed properly. I mean, of course I knew enough to separate darks and lights, and of course I did not leave a red sock in my white a-la-Rachel-Green, but I thought water in washing machines just penetrates all the clothing and soaks everything. Well, if you have three weeks of clothing, and a small washer in the laundry room of your apartment, it doesn’t. So do not try to stuff the washing machine. Also, invest in those Tide tablet things so that you don’t have to measure laundry detergent. Life gets better with those laundry tablet things.
4. Learn how to small-talk. Okay, so I’m expecting there will be another post on this at some point this year. This past week, I attended a faculty wine and cheese event, and had to endure the dreaded small talk with colleagues aka classmates, and professors aka those who assign you a grade that defines your academic progression. What did I expect? Painful, awkward, staring at the ceiling.
   What did I encounter? Slightly less painful, slightly less awkward, and I couldn’t tell you what the ceiling looked like. I received some great advice on what to wear for “business casual” before attending: “If you would TA in it, you can wear it.” Since it was a wine and cheese, and I enjoy wine but cannot tolerate alcohol well, I was that person who casually sipped and warmed my chilled white wine in my hands, which is a nice way of saying I pretended to drink it, subtly made half of my glass magically disappear, filled the half with water, and sipped my diluted now-warm chardonnay with effortless (what a lie) grace.
   What’s the point of diluting the wine? Why didn’t I just drink a non-alcoholic drink?
   There is no difference; I call it personal preference. There is absolutely no problem or judgment I expected for preferring a non-alcoholic drink. I honestly do enjoy wine, so I had no problem asking for white wine. I like the feel of wine glasses because in that superficial way, I feel more comfortable and classy with a wine glass. It all has to do with holding the wine glass itself, and just having a drink (be it alcoholic or non-alcoholic) in general so your hands have something to do, and nothing to do with what’s in the glass. If you feel confident you will be more confident. Fact. (Not proven, but you know.)
   Let’s put it this way. I once attended an alumni talk from a very successful graduate who talked about networking and socializing. Her #1 piece of advice for events? Get a drink (again, any drink, water, wine, etc.) and hold it. It makes you 90% (I made that number up) less awkward than you would be without a drink. It gives you an excuse to politely leave a conversation and “refill” or join another conversation along the way to maximize you networking. And it keeps you hydrated, since you know, socializing requires talking, which requires hydration. And I also made that last point up based on my recent experiences.

So, all that rambling basically meant: I had to take care of maintaining my apartment, I had to go to a real grocery store and do my own laundry, which takes a lot more time when you let it accumulate. I had to socialize in a professional setting and put to use the lesson I learned about professional socializing, that is, get a drink and (it doesn’t matter if it’s alcoholic or non-alcoholic), and mingle. All of which is a lot easier said than done. Which are things I am still working on. But I tried, and that’s why this post is a ½ step in the “Big-Girl Pants.” Like half a step when you’re walking. Like the running man. No, nevermind, not the running man. Just mid step.

A Letter to Fellow Future-Teachers, inspired by IDEAS.TED.COM’s “Teachers open up about the (mostly lousy) economics of their dream job”

As someone who constantly believes in and supports the incredibly crucial role teachers have in society, as well as being someone who has dreamt of many different career paths but always considers teaching to be the final and most fitting destination, this TED article sparked some thoughts about an issue I am not afraid to argue (I mean, although since I am not a teacher, I feel less qualified than if you were to talk to me in a few years… I hope?)… Respect and understanding for teachers. If you read the article, which is a compilation of interviews from teachers in public school systems around the world, you will quickly see a pattern: the love of learning and a lack of recognition, understanding and respect for teaching as a profession. However curated the selection of these interviews may be, the lack of financial compensation and respect from the general public are small summaries of a larger issue I have witnessed during my few years volunteering as a teacher’s assistant in both elementary and high school classrooms. It is not appalling or shocking; it is disappointing. (Making the privileged but accepted assumption that) most of the people who are making these judgements have been in school and therefore have had teachers, I must consider that many opinions could have been formed on the experience of “bad teachers” or teachers who seemed not to care about their students, or perhaps students who did not have positive school experiences… Which leads me to the next topic about which I also have strong opinions. 

As a recent undergraduate graduate, my fellow classmates from high school and university are all headed in different paths: teacher’s college, the working world, more undergraduate courses, professional programs, college, graduate school, the list goes on. What most surprised me were the Facebook posts of those who I did not expect to teach who were headed to teacher’s college this fall. (This, however, is merely my reaction to students whom I did not know well, and so, I cannot trust my fleeting high school memories of these now future-teachers.) At first, I was quick to assume someone wanted to attend teacher’s college, simply because he or she did not, for instance, get into medical school. I shuddered at the idea that teacher’s college suddenly became his or her fallback option and not a dream career path, until I kicked myself and realized that one of my greatest mentors, and also a brilliant teacher I have seen in action in the classroom, also never considered teaching as a career until the opportunity presented itself. 

The topic of respecting and recognizing the importance of the teaching profession has the potential to raise so many issues: global, political, economical, social… But since I am no expert in any of these areas, I would rather leave that to someone who did not just learn what “fiscal year” means in the last… fiscal year…

Instead, I want to end my blog post on something a little unconventional (I mean, as conventional as you can get with a total of two blog posts, and three after this one). I have come across articles and blog posts and Facebook posts, and tweets addressed to students, parents, fellow teachers, members of the community… But this one I want to address to future -teachers: 

Dear future-teachers, be it in the near future, far future, or currently on the supply list or short-term contracts: 

Respect and recognition for teachers is a battle that has come forefront to the news in light of the provincial lack of contracts and job security. This TED article enlightens readers to the battle for respect and recognition on a global level, that reaches beyond our local schools. Teaching may have been your final destination since you were young, or it may have been a new option because of the way the big man upstairs worked things out, but either way a B.Ed is in your future. While students and parents tend to find creative ways to show their gratitude to their teachers, or communities support teachers during picket lines or other ways, I do believe that showing support as a future-teacher is by respecting the profession you have chosen. I picture this, in an ideal world, as teachers teaching because they love to learn and they love to teach, and teachers who choose not to teach because they feel called to commit their time elsewhere. I do not mean for this to sound “preachy,” ignorant, or have negative connotations. But as a student, it is downright disappointing to see teachers bashed in the media (although I am starting to see a lot more support lately). If teachers want respect and recognition from future generations, then maybe future-teachers should respect their profession first.

Sincerely, 

A fellow student and future-teacher.  

The Queenstown Chronicles Hits the Town: Round 1

Attention folks, The Queenstown Chronicles have officially moved into town… I mean, at least for a few days. At this point, however, I think a few days is all I can handle. Warning: Tonight’s blog post may be the kind dripping and oozing in fresh, melted mozzarella disguised as a casual pasta sauce. 

We always watch movies that, at some point, usually use the saying, “There are ___ types of people in the world…” to describe how the protagonist fits into none of the categories mentioned. Prediction? Said protagonist is an anomaly to some type of rule. As much as some of us want to feel like we fit in and belong to somewhere or something, we also love to be one. An anomaly, I mean (don’t deny it). Where, you might ask, does this rambling anomaly talk come into play?

Well I’m going to start with that categorizing habit, just like in movies.

Category 1: The Unemotional Poker Face, also known as the Ice Queen

I like to think of myself as being an unemotional person at most times. I practice keeping emotions in check and keeping up my poker face, which, contradictory to the “unemotional” part of my category title, actually involves emotions. This nonchalant, casual attitude is the updated version of the teenager’s “I don’t care about the world.” A young adult “Ice Queen” does, in fact, care about the world, but has been burned too many times to commit to showing too many emotions. Emotions are felt at an intensity level of 50%, and anything beyond that is immediately pushed away. It’s the classic too-many-emotions-leave-dangerous-room-for-a-hurt-heart situation. But like, hey, we’re almost taken seriously as adults now, aside from that post-grad #yolo phase, involving Starbucks on a whim and shopping sprees when you meant to pay off student debt (or so I’ve heard).

On the flip side, having the ability to keep emotions in check has also paid off. It adds a level of rational thinking to an otherwise emotionally-charged situation. It opens up the possibility to distance yourself, or perhaps reconsider impulsive decisions. Am I trying to defend the infamous “Ice Queen” status? Maybe. Or maybe I’m trying to rationalize it.

Do you fit into this category? I know I sometimes feel as though I do.

Category 2: The Family’s Babied Baby, also known as the Youngest Child

There are couple kinds of “Youngest Child” children, two of which include, one, the child who is forgotten, and two, the child who is spoiled. I’m referring to the latter, with no hint of a complaint and every bit of gratitude. Although spoiled may be an exaggeration, or a harsh word, I mean to use the word in an endearing way. Being spoiled as the baby of a family means you feel as though you never fully grow up, or feel some kind of guilt when you try to, or in some ways, you never want to. Being spoiled involves being sheltered and constantly protected from the terrors of the world, as much as possible.

As a product of the “Family’s Babied Baby” situation, being spoiled also means that your parents stocked up your first apartment pantry with enough non-perishable food to support all of the residents in your apartment building in the event of a zombie apocalypse. It means six different kinds of tomato sauce, two different kinds of Greek yogurt, small bottles of all the authentic Chinese cooking essentials, and most importantly, Costco-sized bags of ground meat, chicken breasts, and deboned chicken thighs, (all in labelled, dated, individually-portioned Ziploc bags, and double bagged to protect against freezer burn, of course).

Do you fit into this category? I will not insult your intelligence and bother writing if I believe I do.

So, let’s go back to the common movie phrase and how the protagonist does not fit into any of the categories. However, rather than believing I do not fit into any category and thinking of myself as an anomaly, I consider myself to fit into both Category 1 and Category 2. As much as I want to think of myself as an anomaly to the “little-girl-feels-alone-in-a-new-city” pattern, I realized today that I am not. I had this grand idea, based on my fortunate and recent experiences of travelling alone, that I would be able to handle being left alone in a new city. The idea involved:

1. Excitement, once my family headed home, since my fridge and cupboards were fully stocked,
2. Curiosity, to explore a new city by myself, as I thoroughly enjoyed doing while travelling alone,
3. Some kind of confident, explorer-feeling, like travelling.

Fitting into both categories makes me realize that I am not any different than the movie protagonist who fits in no category. Movie protagonists are designed to be relatable on multiple levels to many different kinds of people. Vague statement, I know. But if you think about it, relating to the uncategorized movie protagonist really does induce a sense of belonging. At least, in a new city with no friends, no family, and no school community (since it’s August and I’m an early-bird, but not in the morning-person understanding of the phrase), I belong to some kind of vast, global community of young adults (rather than the fresh, young, average 18-year old first year student) experiencing the realization we are not quite as independent and fearless as we thought.

Initiation of The Queenstown Chronicles

So, I tried to start this off with some kind of “Hello!” but it seemed awfully cheery and somewhat redundant. So, I’ll just jump right in.

I’m Felicia. If you read my extremely elusively-titled page, “Sorry, who’s blog is this?” you will find a 190 word description of me, a disclaimer of sorts, and why I decided to start this blog.

Now, I’m starting to feel the need to explain this “Sorry, who’s blog is this?” page, since I tried to avoid too many parenthetical asides also known as commentary to my own soliloquies. I mean, I’m not trying to sound like Hamlet or anything.

1. “bacon-loving” is more than me simply telling you I love bacon more than all other foods. Bacon is a God-sent gift – like manna in the Bible (no, I’m not kidding). Bacon is a great example of “good things in moderation” a principle by which I was raised to stand. You see, to love bacon does not mean one wants to eat bacon at every meal; that would mean to give yourself a heart attack. Don’t do that. Bacon-loving means you appreciate and savour the thing that you truly enjoy. Bacon cheers me up. Bacon is very pretty (like, aesthetically speaking the different shades of pink, red, and off-white don’t clash and also don’t give off a Valentine’s Day vibe. So props to you, bacon). Bacon tastes good. Bacon is also salty and fatty and unhealthy. But that is A-OK; there are positives and negatives to all things we love, because nothing and no one is perfect.
2. See that bacon metaphor? I think I just explained “chonic metaphor-user.”
3. “tell-it-like-it-is” is quite self-explanatory. I hope I don’t insult your intelligence with #4, but I’m direct and assertive about things (I mean, most of the time).
4. “perilous” Note: sarcasm… I hope.
5. “MA in English Language and Literature”: If you haven’t picked up on my word vomit, my over-analytic tendencies or my excessive explanation of a metaphor by now, then I’m not sure if you have been paying attention. Excuses: I make connections in everything I see, do, read and think. I also assume my word count should hit 2500-3500, you know, the standard undergraduate paper word count minimum. I think it’s an English student thing.
6. “new city” stands for a new location for my physical presence, as well as the terrifying thought of living alone for the first time in my life. I’m making the ignorant assumption that most people experience this (and by this, I mean doing their own laundry, obviously) somewhere around the age of 18, but I am reluctantly crawling to this milestone in my 20’s.
7. “mediocre and exaggerated”; “equal parts practical sarcasm and wishful thinking”: Okay, so these contradicting statements pretty much describe me (or so I think). I also assume that the statements are self-explanatory (plus, I have almost surpassed the word count of a standard proposal and clearly this blog post is too long for a “Hello, this is my first post” kind of post). Oh, well. I am nothing if not thorough (positive thinking).

QED.