The room was packed by the time I made my way to the Writers Festival venue. As a typical university student, I arrived five minutes before it started, but I should have known this would be a popular event. I took the only seat available which happened to be next to our special guests for the evening. As I settled in, I heard the three authors talking and laughing together, no doubt bonding over their love of writing.
It’s been said that all emotions stem from love and fear. These two emotions, though vastly different, can be expressed strangely similar ways. Rupert Thompson, Wayne Grady and David Gilmour are well acquainted with love and fear, and each drew from these emotions as they penned the works slated for the evening’s discussion.
Thompson, a first-timer to The Writers Festival, read from his book Secrecy . The scene described the first meeting between a boy and girl in 1690s Italy. It held all the emotions of first-time butterflies but held a hint of mystery. His smooth English accent captivated the audience (myself included), and took us back in time.
Up next was Grady, a regular to the festival, who shared from his first novel Emancipation Day . This short reading impressed me. It gave a small taste of Nova Scotia and provided a first encounter between unlikely lovers. The excitement lingered in the air as Grady read about characters’ tension in meeting for the first time in a blues club.
Last, but certainly not least, David Gilmour approached the podium to share from his book Extraordinary . The book focuses on the fear of death and the fear of lost relationships. He shared the opening pages where a brother describes his estranged relationship with his sister and sets the stage for the night to come.
The audience was filled with wonder as each author transported us to a new place and time. The discussion gave us a glimpse into the mind of an author, something that has always been a mystery to me. The main topic of discussion was the amount of background research involved in putting these characters and stories together. From research, the conversation transitioned to focus on the life of each man, the personal connection to the characters they wrote.
Gilmour especially intrigued me, and one thing he said has stayed with me since that night: “You can get over a woman by turning her into literature but I think the same can be said about trauma.” His book was based on the death of his sister and this was a way for him to approach his feelings and work through them. This got me thinking, what if we all began to write through our feelings? How much would that change our perspective on a situation?
As the event came to a close, it was time for the audience to leave, but we were left with a gift: a small bit of the life of a writer and the inspiration to pursue what seems difficult.
With a full house at Knox Presbyterian Church, CBC’s Laurence Wall introduced to the Writers Festival stage Canada’s renowned historian, Margaret MacMillan. Born in Toronto and schooled at such formidable institutions as the University of Toronto and Oxford University, MacMillan brings a sizable resume to the table. In 2002, she was named Provost of Trinity College at the University of Toronto, and more recently, the Warden of St. Antony’s College at Oxford. The War that Ended Peace is not her first acclaimed novel; it follows in the footsteps of her previous bestsellers Nixon in China and Paris 1919: Six Months That Changed the World .
The War that Ended Peace explores the reasons for the grand calamity that comprised the first World War. According to MacMillan, historians have reached no consensus as to why this war occurred in the first place, and particularly, on whom to lay blame. To make relevant its lessons for today’s world, MacMillan examines what the Great War of nearly a century ago means at present: if Europe could so casually slip into a war of such magnitude without premeditation, could we do the same today?
To set the stage, a recap of European history. It was 1914. The preceding century had seen a time of [relative] peace and stability in the region, as well as the transition from an agricultural society to an industrial one. Industry led to a burgeoning middle class, a population the ruling classes feared, if for sheer force of their numbers. The elites sniffed a revolutionary current—the potential for the proletariat’s revolt. To stymie revolt and maintain power, they entered war with the notion that “a good war will brace us up, overcome divisions, and unite society.” Also at play was the rise of Social Darwinism and its influence in terms of ideology: “the fittest/strongest nations will survive at war,” and “war is the highest form of human activity.” Rather naively, there existed in Europe a strong sense that the war would not last long. MacMillan chalks this up to a human tendency to dismiss contradictory evidence. The populace reviewed the prior century’s skirmishes—such as decisive Napoleonic battles and the Franco-Prussian War, where attacks led quickly to surrender—and expected World War I to bring the same. There was also a general failure to take into account what the change in war weapons ushered in by the Industrial Revolution would bring. More accurate and longer-reaching munitions meant offensive strategy became difficult, and the presence of mustard gas and tanks changed the face of warfare as Europe knew it.
Three of the war’s major players, England, Germany, and Russia, were governed by three cousins with chips on their shoulders: King George V, Kaiser Wilhelm, and Tsar Nicolas II. England’s and France’s colonial conquests had inspired jealousy on the part of Germany, who wanted a piece of the world’s “pie.” Germany’s Kaiser was eccentric, always knew best, interfered with everything, talked incessantly, and generally overcompensated for a physical deformity suffered in childbirth. Tsar Nicolas, on the other hand, was small in stature, raised by an authoritarian father who disregarded his son’s ability, thus relegating him to a life of impotency. When his father passed away, Nicolas was left steering the ship with little to no experience at the helm. In his weakness, Nicolas was rigid. MacMillan colourfully characterizes the two men as incompetent heads of state, well suited to be “postmasters in small towns,” but nothing more.
When all is said and done, Austria, Hungary, Germany, and Italy are pitted against France, Russia, and England. Though MacMillan says historians have enough facts to paint a clear picture of the war, they will always disagree on why it actually occurred. The takeaway from the Great War, according to the author, is the need for the world’s established powers to work hard at helping emerging powers enter the world stage. She likens modern China to 1914 Germany, and the United States to then-England, and stresses the importance of good relations to avoid a casual step off a precipice into grand-scale war.
In conclusion, it would take years to examine all of the causes and factors associated with Europe’s slip into war—much more time than we were afforded that evening! That said, I thoroughly enjoyed this insightful glimpse into the Europe of 100 years ago, along with the pleasure of joining the scores of history lovers seated alongside me to glean even a fraction of Margaret MacMillan’s years of study and expertise.
A chilly October night in Ottawa in the nation’s capital, and what better way to warm up than a discussion about national politics at Knox Presbyterian Church, only a few blocks from Parliament Hill. Given the cast (John Ibbitson of the Globe & Mail, Susan Delacourt of the Toronto Star, Paul Wells of Maclean’s magazine, and host Rosemary Barton of the CBC.), ‘State of the Nation’ always figured to deliver interesting discussion. But with the Senate scandal in full swing? Oh, it promised withering good fun, and insight besides.
The evening was an opportunity for the authors (all three guests were promoting their most recent books) to talk about the current political direction of Canada. Ms. Delacourt explored citizens increasingly viewed and spoken to as consumers by politicians in Canada, charting the growth of consumerism and its diffusion into politics starting in the 1950s. Mr. Ibbitson outlined his (and Darrel Bricker’s) argument that a fundamental and permanent power shift has occurred in Canadian politics, from the “Laurentian Coalition” elites based in the St. Lawrence River watershed to western Canada and the large populations of recent immigrants surrounding major cities, particularly the 905 belt around the GTA. Mr. Wells summarized his “political history of Stephen Harper” as Prime Minister: how he operates politically, how he wins, and how he has developed as a leader while in power. Ms. Barton then posed a number of questions about consumerist politics and current events in the Senate and their potential implications before inviting questions from the audience.
Arguably the most engaging discussion centred on the current Senate scandal, Stephen Harper’s (mis)handling of it, and the impact it might have on the next election. All three authors felt that the crisis was real, and comparisons were drawn with other crises faced by the current government, most notably the coalition crisis of late 2008 (when a minority Conservative government was at risk of being supplanted by a Liberal-NDP coalition). Much of the evening involved mutual agreement, at least in broad terms, but here there was visible divergence among the authors, and it made for some interesting back and forth. For example, Ms. Delacourt felt that Mr. Harper had actually lied in 2008 about the functioning of Canada’s democracy but this was challenged by Ibbitson; Ibbitson felt that current Senate scandal was a more significant crisis than 2008, while Delacourt and Wells argued the opposite.
If there was anything to criticise about the discussion, it was perhaps an excessive focus on Stephen Harper himself. True, he looms large in Canadian political life, is a polarizing figure, and Mr. Wells’ book is about Mr. Harper in particular; but a bit less focus on him and a bit more on wider trends would have been welcome, say a deeper exploration of Ms. Delacourt’s distinction between consumers and citizens. But this was a minor point. The discussion was generally thoughtful, insightful, and witty, from four journalists who are not only well-informed from following Canadian politics for many years but able to view themselves and their profession with a degree of humour and circumspection. They displayed mutual respect and sought to avoid partisan or inflammatory language while still speaking honestly. A political discussion like that counts for much in these times.
The sold-out event featuring authors Denise Chong and Charlotte Gray and hosted by CBC’s Lucy van Oldenbarneveld was the second entirely local event within the fall 2013 Ottawa International Writers Festival. Both authors have international reputations and have published a number of works in the past.
Denise Chong spoke about her latest book Lives of the Family: Stories of Fate and Circumstance. It focuses on a time during the mid-twentieth century when families emigrated from China to Canada and specifically to the Ottawa Valley area. She talked of the political backdrop to families leaving China during the 1940’s and later. The families were rebels, in a way, for they chose to settle away from the Chinese communities in Toronto, Vancouver and New York. She was interested as to why the families moved to the Ottawa Valley and she wanted to bring into “sharp relief” the experiences of the Chinese immigrant. Through her research, which includes conversations with family members, Denise searches to “reveal the precise moment when a life changes”.
Denise read some excerpts from her book and described several other portions. She told of the shock of settling in a new country and of the isolation the families faced. One young woman and her mother, in planning a move to Canada, had 12 new dresses made and bought 12 new pairs of high heels. When they arrived in Ottawa they were driven to Carp where they ended up pumping gas for a living. The dresses and shoes were of little use.
Denise had attended another Writers Festival Event earlier in the week and she heard author Michael Winter speak about writing about people’s lives. Michael’s words resonated with Denise. He said ‘life is messy, it is chaos and doesn’t have structure”. Denise tries to take people’s messy lives and give them structure. Charlotte agreed we all have unstructured lives.
Charlotte Gray’s latest book The Massey Murder: A Maid, Her Master and the Trial that Shocked a Country is a departure from her previous work as the focus of this book is a true crime. A domestic servant working in the house of the famous Toronto Massey family murdered her boss. Eighteen-year-old Carrie shot Bert Massey in cold blood as he walked up the steps to his home in January 1915. Charlotte was interested in not only the crime itself but also how the circumstances within Canada at the time may have impacted the trial. It was early in WWI, women were demanding the vote and immigrants were arriving from places other than the British Isles. These factors had a role in the trial and the verdict.
The discussion that took place after the book readings was very interesting, frank and open. I found hearing about each author’s experience in research to be fascinating. Charlotte’s leads for a story, at times, come from a chance meeting when she is out walking her dog in Ottawa. Denise spoke of hearing about family history from people in their 80’s and 90’s who have never told anyone of such events before. They realize that if they don’t tell now, the event will go to the grave with them.
Both women are very interested in exploring the human side of their subjects. They feel some of what those they interview have felt. And if it is a painful, emotional story they “weep” with those they are interviewing but at the same time a part of them is thinking “this is really good stuff”.
Denise Chung and Charlotte Gray are our local “really good stuff”. My hope is that you will read their books and discover for yourself.
Although this relatively early Monday event was more sparsely attended than some of the evening events of the Writers Festival, I’m certain that those of us who were present can agree: Masterclass with David Gilmour was an excellent selection for our lunchtime extracurricular activity.
The event appropriately began by addressing Gilmour’s recent controversy, in which a large portion of the internet exploded with claims of homophobia and sexism after the publication of an interview with Gilmour in Hazlitt . Although Gilmour’s words in the aforementioned interview were perhaps not ordered in the best way, it is fairly clear that the claims are not true. To be specific, Gilmour’s implication was not that women writers aren’t valuable; rather, that the literature he identifies most closely with (and thus that which he enjoys the most) is literature written by middle-aged men. Gilmour also makes clear that he would be a second-rate teacher of women writers, and that the work of recent Nobel Prize in Literature laureate Alice Munro will undoubtedly be around for the next century.
After clearing the air of the allegations, host and Writers Fest Artistic Director Sean Wilson opened the discussion about how reading impacts writing, and specifically, which books have been most influential for David Gilmour. Gilmour began by specifying that, even on his best day, he couldn’t write a page as good as Tolstoy’s worst. He spoke quite lovingly of The Great Gatsby, and F. Scott Fitzgerald’s prose style—first person, past tense narrative—as that which Gilmour has been trying to imitate for the past twenty years.
He claims that The Great Gatsby falls into a similar category as that of Bob Marley; both seem as though they were written or recorded yesterday. The “minting” of The Great Gatsby’s prose, Gilmour said, feels like it was published in The New Yorker last week.
Despite his love of Gatsby, however, Gilmour did make it abundantly clear that there are plenty of so-called classics that he doesn’t like. For example, Gilmour considers Ulysses by James Joyce to be a “punishingly dull book”, and that it would be best read during a very long prison sentence. In a brief conversation with Gilmour after the event, I discovered that we share a dislike of George Orwell’s 1984, which was a vast relief for me. Gilmour also confessed to me that he may or may not have taught 1984 without reading the entire novel.
Although I’m certain that Gilmour reads abundantly more than the average person, he admitted that he does not finish ninety percent of the books he starts. Gilmour’s philosophy is that if an author can’t ‘get it right’ on the first page, they likely can’t get it right at all. Further to that end, Gilmour believes that the true test of greatness for novels is whether you can read them a second time. There are, as Gilmour pointed out, “shadows and light on the pages” of great novels that move to reveal new things on a second read.
It is clear that David Gilmour’s approach to reading has greatly impacted the works he has produced, and his opinions about various novels are fascinating in and of themselves. Masterclass was a delight to attend.
In December of 1969, when 25-year old Denis Hayes is hired by U.S. senator Gaylord Nelson to direct a country-wide “teach-in” on environmental issues, he leaves his graduate studies at Harvard University and gathers a small gang of college graduates to plan what will become the first Earth Day. By the time that day arrives on April 22, 1970, some 2,000 colleges and universities and 10,000 primary and secondary schools join the movement. It is estimated that 20 million participate across the country, keeping alive the memory and the legacy of Rachel Carson, who is credited as the creative spark behind the modern environmental movement. Though Carson passed away just two years after her book Silent Spring was published in 1962, (she had been suffering from breast cancer and its painful treatment while also facing opposition to her work, with accusations of being a “peace-nut” and a communist) her compelling work created enough momentum to eventually eradicate the use of DDT in pesticides. But during this time, young men and women from the West begin to actively embody the phrase “to live is to participate” even outside America. Decades ago, roadside chai stalls in Pakistan and Afghanistan were frequented by shaggy and shabby Westerners along what came to be known as the “Hippie trail.” What the locals in Peshawar or Kabul or Tehran must have thought of these goras I can hardly imagine; the scene is several stretches of the imagination away from the unfortunate reality of today.
I have been reading on the phenomenon of Bohemianism for a while and am particularly fascinated by the people of the 60s for their part in a long history of dissent and their contribution to social change. So, at the Writers Festival event “Campaigning for Justice” with Jo Becker, when the Development Director of the Writers’ Festival mentions he is a child of the 60’s, I am instantly hooked, even though I was completely absentminded a moment ago and thus didn’t catch his name. That decade was a time of social upheaval and it laid the ground for several movements today. The activism of the 60’s took place, as Neil Wilson says (I catch his name when I meet him after the talk), in response to “a world that was out of whack with what we felt.” He introduces Jo Becker to the stage to discuss her book Campaigning for Justice , an examination of several important human rights campaigns and the new emerging tools employed in campaigning.
In speaking with activists, Becker finds something affirming, a fairly common element that speaks to our oft asked question, “Well, what can I do?” A number of the persons she speaks with are “accidental activists,” people who found themselves in their respective positions without ever having really known that they would be there, or how. Becker, who has been with the Human Rights Watch for the last 16 years, identifies herself as one of these accidental activists. During college, she was interested in the area of human rights, and her current work grew out of an internship position in New York. When she was asked to teach a course on campaigning for human rights at Columbia University and began to assemble a reading list, she quickly realized how much of the material on the subject focused on theory and law, but little on advocacy. I myself have seen some of this material that seeks to address those perennial issues of poverty and education in the undeveloped world through the machinations of progress.
In her book, Becker lists a number of factors or tools that give an advocacy campaign its legs—a better chance to succeed. The first one, research, is not only the starting point but, I believe, also the road you get on and stay on till the end. It’s all about knowing your facts and having them straight. In one instance, research was a critical component in the campaign against life sentences without parole for juvenile offenders, a sentence that contravenes international law but is endorsed by certain states in the U.S. The campaign uncovered that 60% of the offenders who receive this sentence are actually first time offenders, and that many of them were not even directly involved, but rather complicit in the act, at times even unknowingly.
Another tool is the advantage of broad based alliances, bringing together different voices in the campaign. The example Becker presents is that of NGOs working together with U.S. Congressional allies in the case against former Liberian president Charles Taylor. Taylor had been charged with several counts of war crimes, counts of crimes against humanity—including murder, rape, sexual slavery, and mutilation—and one count of a serious violation of international law on account of recruiting and using child soldiers. When Taylor finally steps down from power in 2003, he flees to neighbouring Nigeria where he is granted comfortable asylum. However, Interpol issues a Red Notice and the newly elected President of Liberia, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, submits a request of extradition to Nigeria. The Nigerian government agrees to release Taylor but—and no, as likely as it may seem, this is not a Robert Ludlum novel, or is it?—a few days after that agreement, Taylor “disappears.” However, less than two days after Taylor goes missing, Nigerian president Olusegun Obasanjo is scheduled to meet with then-U.S. president George Bush. The campaign against Taylor quickly directs its strength toward pressuring and convincing Bush to deny meeting with Obasanjo until he gives up Taylor. Bush agrees, the demand is made, and less than 12 hours before the scheduled meeting, Charles Taylor is “found.” When he is finally tried, Taylor is sentenced to 50 years’ imprisonment. To make a long story short, though we need the long stories of campaigns because they are made up of continuous effort and struggle and should not be trivialized and forgotten, it is the constant deliberation and action of the campaign along with its spread-out alliances that provide it the strength to act effectively. The reference to alliances also reflects on another tool that Becker mentions, which is the use of multiple points of leverage and multiple strategies, which are important because human rights advocacy, as she mentions more than once, is not so much a science as an art.
Listening to Jo Becker speak about the case against Charles Taylor, and reading about it afterwards, begins to answer a question prompted by my reading on Bohemianism: “What happened that dampened the spirit of the 60s and the 70s?” Likewise, at the start of the event, Neil Wilson reiterates his son’s question to him: “Where are you guys from the 60s now?” Did the voices of dissent become disillusioned and turn to despair instead? Perhaps. Though we might be missing the fervour of that time, and might have more than our fair share of “slacktivists,” and often times just simply don’t know what we can do, one person I met after the event helped to turn the tide of apathy and complacency we are all liable to give in to. The lady, in response to a question I had asked the speaker, invited me to a forum in Toronto which discusses issues of activism and encourages corporations to act with social justice. I was pleasantly surprised; I had only heard of how people meet in such events and form these alliances, as Jo Becker herself had mentioned. “We’re trying to do our part” she replied, in response to my surprise. Anyone got a VW van they want to get rid of?
With Alice Munro's recent Nobel Prize for Literature, short fiction has received a boost in interest, and not only in Canada. Short story writing and reading is "in" – “finally”, and “high time”, as may long term aficionados are saying. I have to admit, I have come to appreciate short fiction only recently. With more time on my hands I am enjoying short fiction more and for a range of reasons. Canada is rich with diverse short fiction writers, as pointed out during the early part of the discussion at this Writers Festival event. It appears to be a genre that attracts more women than men, at least in Canada, though this contention deserves to be further explored (as I am just now thinking of short fiction by Joseph Boyden, Steven Heighton, and Alexander McLeod, to name a few, which has been showcased at the Ottawa Writers Festival in very recent years). Still, our panel members gave a range of good reasons why they are attracted to short story writing, ranging from particular topics and ideas that attract them to write a story to exploring and honing their writing skills and test out new ideas.
Lynn Coady, shortlisted for this year's Giller Prize with her collection Hellgoing , treated us to a short story that drew her back to her childhood, and many in the audience may well have compared her (fictional teacher) “Mr. Hope” with experiences in their own youth.
Journey Prizewinning author Cynthia Flood's new collection of short stories, Red Girl Rat Boy , from which she read the title story, addresses a wide range of human experiences. Nancy Richler, author of The Imposter Bride , says, "There's a rare honesty to Flood's writing. Her eye is unflinching, her language energetic and precise, her vision bracing, passionate and entirely lacking in sentimentality." Her book will certainly get onto my reading list sooner rather than later.
Kelli Deeth's new short story collection, The Other Side of Youth , is a collection of stories "about missed connections and unrequited desire, in which characters struggle internally and with each other over issues such as marriage, childlessness, adoption, adolescent longing, friendship, and death," according to the author’s website. She also teaches creative writing at the University of Toronto. Her description of limited time available for writing every day led to a broader discussion on writing disciplines among the panel. Each author has her own approach to time and how to organize it. Lynn Coady admitted that her energy moves in waves and depends on the subjects and stories she works on. Taking the discussion further, Kate Heartfield, herself a published writer in addition to her work as a journalist, asked what many in the audience likely wanted to know: “How do you start? What makes you decide to write a story on a particular topic? Are certain subjects particularly suited for short story treatment?" Lynn Coady explained that for her, stories tend to come intuitively, often "with a jolt". Cynthia Flood added that she doesn't necessary decide on the length of a story ahead of time. It depends. Kelli Deeth also said that it is difficult to explain what makes her want to write a particular story. This brought the panel back to the question of how, for example, do you get into the mind of a ten-year old child and capture her thoughts? This led to a broader discussion of how to capture the voice and perspective of a young person or child, a challenge that all three authors had experienced. Coady, for example, took a year to work with the voice of the girl in “Mr. Hope”, the story she had read earlier. She had to dig deep into her own memories, and at some point it became easy to recreate the voice. Flood added that all our memories exist somewhere in our brain, but we have to find ways to access them to bring them alive again.
Having discussed ideas for stories and how to begin, the discussion moved to endings. How do the panelists decide that a story is finished? What makes them decide to close at a particular point? Is it more appropriate to end "with a bang" or write a more subdued ending? Obviously, the answer varies story to story but I found interesting what Lynn Coady added: There can be a point where it is "safe" to leave the story and leave the reader with his or her own imagination. Sometimes she may have an ending in mind, but then as she progresses into the story she ends it at a different point…
One challenge for any collection is the order in which the short stories are selected for the publication. Sometimes, a chronological order is the most obvious, especially when the stories are linked in some way. At other times the stories are quite diverse and a natural order doesn't impose itself on the author. All panelists related to this challenge and suggested that at times it takes a trusted outsider, a first reader or an editor, to bring order and structure. As readers we benefit from it – or do we at times mix up the story by other criteria?
I would like to leave the panelists and the moderator with a great “thank you” for a very interesting and delightful discussion.
I believe there would have been a time—now far in the distant past—when arriving twenty minutes in advance of a Writers Fest event would have left me ample time to secure a good seat. Not so for “To Thine Own Self Be True” with Michael Winter and Joseph Boyden; alack and alas, I am resigned to witnessing the grandeur of Canadian literature at somewhat of a distance.
I admit that, as per usual, I arrived to review at Writers Fest with relatively little knowledge of the featured authors. To confess: I spend most of my reading hours deep in spiritual memoirs or young adult fiction. Surprisingly, Boyden mentioned that one of his upcoming projects is a young adult novel, so perhaps I am not as unschooled as I originally believed.
Also akin to my prior festival experiences, I count myself as extremely fortunate to have attended an event such as this one. As host Mark Medley, Books Editor for The National Post, pointed out, Winter and Boyden—whom he describes as two of Canada’s foremost storytellers—are “repeat offenders” at the festival. I can certainly see why.
Winter and Boyden have been speaking at various festivals across Canada for the past few months, and tonight’s event at Knox Presbyterian was apparently close to the most people Boyden and Winter have read to. At one point during the event, Boyden manifests some plastic flowers—likely on loan from a church display—to give to Michael as they near the end of their tour together. These two authors have known each other since 2001, a relationship that had early days marked by running with the bulls in Madrid.
Joseph Boyden, who spent a decade of his young life as an altar boy, crossed himself to open the evening, though by no means does he require forgiveness for his works. The same is true of Michael Winter, who deserves similar accolades for his contribution to Canada’s canon.
After both Winter and Boyden had read short selections from their most recent works, host Mark Medley began his interview of the authors. To direct the event back towards its intended theme, Medley began by asking whether there is a difference between being true to oneself as an author versus being true to oneself as a human being. Boyden testified that it is possible to remain true to both history and narrative. It all reminds me of a once upon a time theme of my English department: that the universe is made of stories, not atoms.
I felt a bit like I was eavesdropping on a regular conversation between these two; like I sat at just the right seat in a noisy pub and—by accident—heard bits of conversation. For example, Winter concludes that it is best to just be oneself, writer or otherwise: trying to be Cormac McCarthy results in being laughed at by one’s girlfriend.
Boyden is a firm believer that just because something is true, doesn’t mean it is interesting, but the truth of his relationship with Winter is indeed interesting. Winter and Boyden are an excellent match for speaking together. I lament for those who were not able to attend this event, as it was an excellent glimpse into both the journey of two excellent authors, but also into their long-time friendship.
Discussing failure openly with others is not a common thing for many people to do, let alone in public. Now imagine having failed in front of an audience of close to 35 million Canadians and then proceeding to chronicle this very open humiliation. This past Wednesday, as he has in previous events promoting his latest book, this is what Michael Ignatieff did in his presentation to a large and captive audience at the Ottawa International Writers Festival.
Political memoirs, as host Craig Oliver so eloquently put, are normally mind-numbingly dull and excessively self-congratulatory. In contrast, he finds Fire and Ashes: Success and Failure in Politics to be a personal and strikingly candid account of Ignatieff's time in politics. Oliver aptly added that this memoir has "personal relevancy," and "flesh and blood." This is not a book venting complaint, Ignatieff said, but strongly insists it describes what politics and loss is like when it was happening.
Ignatieff stresses these memoirs are targeted towards young Canadians, interested in politics, who can learn from his mistakes. He explained that at every speech he made during his career as Leader, he spoke to the one person in the room that he hoped to inspire to run for any Party and make Canada a better place as he tried to do. This book is for "the young man or woman thinking, I can do that… he didn't get there but I will."
With this goal in mind, Ignatieff proceeded with a purposeful and decisive talk highlighting some important thoughts and take-aways from his book. You could immediately tell he is an experienced public speaker and enjoys engaging directly with his audience in a frank and open manner. Oliver did an excellent job in keeping Ignatieff on his toes and they both exchanged clever and witty (and often biting) banter in their talk.
Ignatieff's presentation gave a strikingly candid and direct perspective of what his book has to offer in the way of demonstrating not only what politics was like for him, but what it can and should be. First, his book urges us to think about what is currently happening to our politics. Referencing a class he taught on attack ads, Ignatieff explained Canadian politics has turned opponents, or adversaries as he calls them in the book, into enemies. No compromise or understanding can occur and results in personal attacks which are hurtful and often inaccurate, Ignatieff noting that he never was "just visiting" but has always only been a Canadian citizen. Continuing in this dark vein, Ignatieff found the true battle of political life is not to write and present smart policies, but to fight for the right to speak and to be heard. He also quite strongly came out against the digital age, which he says has fragmented our attention span and led to malicious and aggressive personal attacks. Second, he hoped to explain what it is like to fail. I admired his reflection on failure teaching us the most in life. He urged others to not be afraid of failure or success, but to be fearless. Last, he aspires to show what politics can be. It's not just "show business for ugly people" but a calling and vocation to serve the Canadian public. He admires Canada's global population as well as our polite approach to life.
On the other hand, it was also quite disconcerting to hear Ignatieff explain his failure in that, when returning to Canada to run for the Liberal Party, he "didn't understand the Canada [he] was coming back to." I question if it can be as simple as a lack of understanding or the reasoning that he was under the "illusion that Canada was as it was under [Pierre] Trudeau" as it quite evidently has not been this way for a long time.
This young and politically engaged Canadian looks forward to reading the book, and greatly enjoyed the insightful and personal talk given by Ignatieff on his success and failure in politics. Having read many of his other works (I'd like to highlight True Patriot Love; Blood and Belonging; Scar Tissue; and Lesser Evil), I look forward to reading his latest, and gaining more insight into his reflections and hopes for Canadian politics. One can be glad and hopeful that, at least as an author, Michael Ignatieff is far from done.
Toronto’s sitting poet laureate, George Elliott Clarke, will release his first book of verse for children in October: Lasso the Wind: Aurélia’s Verses and Other Poems , which contains collage illustrations by Halifax artist Susan Tooke.
They will be inspiring kids in area schools this Fall as part of the Writers Festival's free Step Into Stories Children's Literacy program.
When did you first decide to become a writer, and what made you choose
writing over all your other options?
I wanted to be a rock-n-roll star. But I couldn't sing, couldn't read music, and didn't know any instruments (except trombone, which I found boring). I decided, at age 15, to write "songs"—rhyming poems of all types, some with tunes in mind, but most tuneless. At 16, I started to write poems—essentially, "free verse."
What is your earliest memory of literature (reading or writing or hearing it)?
My parents read to my brothers and I—a story before going to bed/falling asleep. We must have been age 4,3,2. I don't remember those stories, but I do remember the little picture books that we received of Mother Goose and Grimms' Fairy Tales, and the Classics Illustrated comic book versions of Wells's The Invisible Man and many, many others. In those days, reading was second only to the pleasure of dreaming.
How does teaching fit into your idea of what it means to be a poet?
Teaching gives me access to what newer generations think is important; I hope we all teach (or learn from) each other. It is also a pleasure to get to explore deeply a text or writer that one likes—and to share the enthusiasm.
What are the top three tips would you want to give a young writer or poet?
a) Write all the time;
b) Read everything;
c) Challenge yourself—and trust your instincts.
How do you think you’ve changed as a writer over the course of your career?
I've become more and more willing to write what I want to write and to say what I want to say. Those who don't like it, may very well lump it.
Can you describe an experience that you believe contributed to you becoming a poet?
After I published my first book (in 1983—30 years ago!), I took a creative writing course at Banff, Alberta, and began to write about my own life, including my feelings of trauma over my parents's divorce. When I came back from Banff, I read one of the poems to my mother, who sighed, "Oh, George, how could you have written that?" When I saw that my poem, about a family incident, had been controversial for my mom, I realized that poetry is a powerful art, and it is ever more powerful the closer that one can get to revealing the "truth" about humanity....
What do you think the the future of literature will look like?
Screens, keyboards; tiny screens and pinhead-tiny keyboards. But some of us will still want the smell of ink, the feel of paper, the heft and majesty of an old-fashioned book. (Indeed, governments can spy on what you take off the Internet; but a book—especially used—is still potentially, secretly subversive.)
How can young readers discover more about you and you work?
There are websites—and blogs—and reviews—all on-line. But I prefer that they—I beg them to—look up a volume, buy it (!), and read.