2Geist122Winter2022 Volume30 · Number122 · Winter2022 FEATURES THINGSTHATSCATTER CharlesBrown Apartywhenagunshowsup, orpolice,samething 44
EmilyChou Wouldtheyseehimtoo? 32 Imagefrom“MyDad’sBrother”(seepage32) FUTUREPERFECT Newbylawsforcivicspaces 39
MYDAD’SBROTHER(ORWHAT DOESDROWNINGLOOKLIKE)
3 Ideas&Culture,MadeinCanada NOTES&DISPATCHES CBCampbell JoeandMe 7 MazzySleep HeartMedicine 10 DavidM.Wallace RedFlags 11 DavidSheskin PRESS1IF 13 JennileeAustria Scavengers 14 FINDINGS 16 HostileVibration NothingforMoney WaystoDealwithWorry GenerationalResilience TheDayIGaveMy CandelabratothePeople Vancouvering Population:MoreorLess andmore… COLUMNS AFTERLIFEOFCULTURE InSearchofaPhrase StephenHenighan 48 DEPARTMENTS MISCELLANY 4 ENDNOTES 50 PUZZLE 56 COVERIMAGE: Movieland,Saskatchewan,CA, 2020,photographbyDavidBurdeny,courtesy theartistandKostuikGallery.
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IjustreceivedNo.120andamsoglad tobebackonyourmailinglist.Having notreceivedanythingforquitesome time,IthoughtI’dbeenforgottenand allwaslost.Ireallythoughttheparty wasover.So,welcomebackandcontinue thegoodwork.YourmagazineisappreciatedbyushereinPhiladelphiaandthe manyotherplacesweshareeachissue.
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GOOD-LOOKING
Agreatthingabout Geist contributors ishowpracticaltheyare.LikeGrant Buday,whowrote“Reduce,Reuse,Reincarnate”(No.121),workinginarecyclingdepot.Enclosedismylatestbook which,someday,willbedismembered
andpulped.No.121isagood-looking issue,butyouneedmorecomics.Hope WinterofOurPandemic helps. —DavidCollier,HamiltonON
Itcertainlydoes,David.
4Geist122Winter2022
MISCELLANY
Excerptfrom WinterofOurPandemic
(SparePartsPress)byDavidCollier.
WRITERS-IN-RESIDENCE
Abigthank-youtoLucaCaraSeccafien fortheirtimeasGeist’sWriter-inResidence.Lucaisawriter,graphic storyteller/comicartist,printmaker,facilitator/teacherandcommunityorganizer. Findthematluca.caraseccafien.comand onInstagram@luca.secca.art.During theirresidency,Lucahostedtwomeetupsforcomixartistsandworkedon theirlong-formproject.TheircomixdispatchissetforpublicationinNo.123.
Wewouldalsoliketowelcome ChristineLai,ourincomingWriter-inResidence.Christine’sshortstoriesand essayshaveappearedinthe Puritan, Joyland, PRISMinternational and CosmonautsAvenue.Herdebutnovel, Landscapes,isforthcomingfromDoubledayCanadainSpring2023.We’re lookingforwardtoseeingwhatshe getsuptoduringhertimewithus.
Keepaneyeforfutureevent announcementsandopportunitiesat geist.com.
—TheEditors
CORRECTION
Inour“Findings”sectionofNo.120, thephotographyofKrissMunsyawas mislabelled.“WhiteNoiseinHeaven” waspublishedontheright-handpage, while“AstheDawnBreaks”waspublishedontheleft-handpage.Werecant theeditedartiststatementfeaturedin ourcaption,whichwasprovidedbythe Galleryrepresentativeandnottheartist.
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Miscellany5
G
DerekBeaulieu’svisualpoemscanbe foundthroughoutthisissue.Theyare fromhisseriestitled“Euphemia Asleep,”fromthepoetrycollection SurfaceTension,publishedbyCoach HouseBooksin2022.DerekBeaulieu istheauthor/editorofovertwenty-five collectionsofpoetry,proseandcriticism.Heisthe2022–2024BanffPoet Laureate.Findhimatderekbeaulieu.ca.
DavidBurdeny isanaward-winning photographer.Hisworkhasbeen exhibitedinCanada,theUnitedStates andthroughoutEurope.Hisphotographshavebeenpublishedin Casa Vogue,the Guardian, CorrieredellaSera andmore.HelivesinDelta,BCand worksfromhisstudioinVancouver, BC.Findhimatdavidburdeny.com.
EmilyChou’sworkhasappearedin SADMag, Room, Vallum andmore.She’s livedintheUK,JapanandItalyand currentlyfindsherselfbackhomeon unceded xʷməθkʷəyəm, Sḵwxwú7mesh and səlilwətaɬ territory.Findhereverywhere@_rhymeswithwow.
MartineFrossard isavisualartistwho focussesherworkmainlyonanimation, illustrationandparticipativeinstallations.Heranimatedworkshavebeen presentedinmanyfestivalsandgalleries acrossCanada,theUnitedStatesand Europe.Heranimatedfilm,ThirtyMasks (2015),wasaninternationalsuccess. Findheratmartinefrossard.com.
JánJuhaniak isavisualartistwho worksinthefieldsofpainting,graphics,collage,drawing,illustrationand animation.Heisalsoengagedin musicproduction.Helivesandworks inSlovakiaandFrance.Findhimat janjuhaniak.comandonInstagram @jan_juhaniak.
JessRichter isaGerman-Canadian contemporaryfolkartistbasedin Regina,SK(Treaty4Territory).Her practiceincludesinstallation,site-specific work,printmakinganddrawing.She holdsanMFAfromtheUniversityof Regina.Findheratjessrichterprints.com andonInstagram@haushexenstudio.
PaulWong isanaward-winningartist andcurator.Heisamedia-maestro makingartforsite-specificspacesand screensofallsizes.Hepioneeredearly visualandmediaartinCanadaby foundingseveralartist-rungroups, leadingpublicartspolicyandorganizingmanyevents,festivals,conferencesandpublicinterventions.He livesinVancouver,BC.Findhimat paulwongprojects.com.
Hisartworksonpages20and21 ofthisissueareexcerptedfrom OccupyingChinatown byDebbie Cheung,ChristopherLeeandPaul Wong,publishedbyOnMain Galleryin2021.Thebookwasshortlistedforthe2022CityofVancouver BookAward.Visitonmaingallery.ca/ shopformoreinformation.
MingWu isaphotographerwitha passionformusic,artsandculture happeninginandaroundhiscity.He livesinOttawa,ON.Findhimat photogmusic.comandonTwitterand Instagram@photogmusic.
6Geist122Winter2022 6Geist122Winter2022 ARTISTSINTHISISSUE
NOTES&DISPATCHES
JoeandMe CBCAMPBELL
Playingagainstthefastestchessplayerintheworld
Asmallcrowdhasgatheredon Toronto’sGouldStreetbesideSam theRecordMan.Everyone’sattention isfocussedonanoldmanseatedata tableonthesidewalk.Heyells,waves hishands,pusheshisplasticchessmen violentlyaroundtheboardandslaps thetimeclockwithanotherofhis opponent’spiecesafteralmostevery move.Heisaspeedchessmasternamed Josef“Joe”Smolijandwearewitnessinghimexecutehis“Smash-Crash” gambit.
Smolijhasalonggreybeard.He wearsatattered,darkredwool sweaterwith“KILLASYOUGO” hand-printedonit.Hepresentshis credentialsforalltosee:acardboard posterfeaturingafadednewspaper photoofhimself,asketchofSocrates andahand-letteredstatementproclaimingthatheis“thefastestchess playerintheworld.”
Chesshasadignifiedandstoried history;itsoriginsextendbacktothe GuptaEmpireofIndiainthesixth
centuryAD.BythetimeColumbus sailedtowhatbecametheWestIndies, thegamehadmigratedtoEuropeand theruleswereapproachingthosewe observetoday.In1846,theToronto ChessClubcameintobeing,formally establishingclubplayinthedrawing roomsofwhatwastobecomethe ProvinceofOntario.
Thechessbeingplayedtonighton GouldStreetisnotaleisurelygame carriedoutinaquietcluboverafternoontea.Itis2a.m.onadrizzly
Notes&Dispatches7 Notes&Dispatches7
Photo:JosefSmolij,1980,byCBCampbell
Octobernight.Thebars,peepshows andstripclubsalongYongeStreet haveclosed.ThedoorsofSamthe RecordManhavebeenlockedfor hours,although,inanodtothe gamestakingplaceoutside,thestore leavessomelightson.Smolijcrowsas anotherdefeatedchallengergetsup andfadesbackintothecrowdaround thetable.Isitintheemptychairand slipmyone-dollarbillunderthe chessclock.It’smyfirstgameofthe night,butcertainlynotmyfirstofthe semester.
It’s1980andI’minTorontopursuingJournalismatRyersonPolytechnic Institute.Thecrowdsandlate-night lightsofYongeStreethavegrabbed myimaginationandI’ve embracedthephilosophyofthejournalistas activeobserver.Aphotographyassignment challengesmetocapture somelocalcolour. Smolijprovidesit. Iliveablockaway fromSmolij’sstreettheatre,soclosetoschool thatIseldommakeitto mymorningclasseson time.IdoubtIwillever beabletopoundout sixtywordsaminuteon anIBMSelectric.I’vealsotwiceforgottentospellYoungStreettheway thelocalsdo—“Yonge”—asignofmy flaggingcommitmenttomastering themundanemechanicsrequiredof first-yearjournalismstudents.But thereareexcitingstoriestobewritten.Amunicipalelectioniscoming; theTorontomayoralracehasprogressiveincumbentJohnSewell defendingagainstconservativeArt Eggleton.InWard6,anopenlygay businessmanisattemptingtotakea seatoncouncil.Thisgenerates debatesandralliesforyoungjournaliststocover,ifonlyfortheirclass assignments.
Onenight,whileavoidingan assignment,IdiscovertheGame
Spot:anarcadewhereIhavemypick ofdozensofpinballmachinesand consolevideogames.Therearemore prurientofferingsonthestrip;just northofthechesstables,theZanzibar offerstable-dancers.Butaten-dollar coverchargeandfive-dollardrinks arebeyondmybudget.Instead,Iplay Galaga,SpaceInvadersandKissPinballforthelow,lowpriceofaquarter. Andanother.Andanother—whichis whyIheadhomelatemostevenings withonlyafewdollarsinmypocket. That’showIdiscoverthelate-night anticsofJoeSmolij,amanwhose commitmenttochessisclearly greaterthanminetojournalism,or Pac-Man.
timetoseethemaster’sflagfall.Since LabourDayweekend,I’veexecuteda numberofstrategies,buthavenotyet foundonethatworks.Nosurprise, giventhatchessisagamethatrewards experienceandmyopponenthas spenteveryeveningplayingspeed chessforoveradecade.Hehasbeen onthiscornerfortwoyears.Before that,hewasplayingafewblocksnorth atAllanGardens.
ChessisSmolij’spassion,andhow hemakeshisliving.Eachwinearns himonedollar.Heplayswithachess clock—atwo-facedtimerthattracks howlongeachplayertakestomake theirmoves.Whenaplayer’stime runsout,asmallmetalflagdrops, declaringthemtheloser.Smolij’s gamesseldomendwithcheckmate. Farmoreoften,aflagdropsonthe challenger.Whenourgamestarts,my clockhasfiveminutesassigned;his hassixtyseconds.EachtimeImove,I pushthebuttononmysideofthe clock,stoppingmytimeandrestarting myopponent’s.
Iplayafewgameseachnight, studyingSmolij’sstyleandsearching fortricksthatwillbuymeenough
AllanGardensishometoacentury -oldconservatorywithexoticplantsin sixgreenhouses.Patronscanwalk alongpathsandviewthecollection year-round.I’vespentsometimein thebuildingwithitswarm,humidair. Itremindsmeofthecowbarnat home:afamiliarearthy andorganicsmell,with justahintofurine.Even so,it’sawelcomechange fromthedieselandgas fumesofCarltonStreet. Manyofthepatronsof AllanGardensare homelessornearhomeless,andsometimes shiftless.Backin1978, thepolicewereconcernedaboutthecrowds Smolijattracted,concludinghehadtobea frontfordrugsales,not believingthatspeedchesswasaspectatorsport.Withsomeproddingfrom beatcops,heshiftedsouthtoGould.
Tonightweareplayingonstonetables—streetfurniturethatthecity installedwiththeintentiontogentrifyandsoftentheurbanlandscape, tomakeYongeStreetintoFamilyFun Streetratherthanthestreetwhere peoplegettheirrocksoff.Bylawsand rezoninghavehadsomeimpact,but therearealwaysdodgycharacters hangingaroundatthistimeofthe night.AlthoughSmolijisthestarperformer,thereareotherplayers.Men, withtheirplasticpiecesandclocks, claimtables,sometimesforafew hours,or,inSmolij’scase,forthe
8Geist122Winter2022
evening.Somecomeregularly;others, onlyonweekends.
Twoboardsover,ayoungplayer seekstoemulatethemaster.Joelis perhapsinhisearlythirties,buthis beardandhard-wornclothingadd years.Joelworkedinconstruction untilhewasinjured.Unableto returntohisdayjob,heturnedto late-nightspeedchesstosupplement hisdisabilitycheque.Althoughhe usuallywins,I’veclaimedafewdollarsfromhim.ForJoel,lifeislarger thanthegame.He’sinterestedin morethanchess,andwehave becomefriends.Inthespringwewill worktogetherinaweeklyDungeons &Dragonscampaign,mypaladin andhishalf-elfsharingadventures justslightlymoreviolentthanthe streetchessbattlesofSmolijandthe nightcrew.
Fewoftheregularsputinlong hoursonthestreet.Nonearepreparedtoofferthetimeadvantagethat Smolijdoes.Afeware“real”players, insistingonatleasttenorfifteenminutesforeachplayerpergametoprovidetimetothinkandlearn.Thebest amongthemtellmethatplaying speedchesswillhurtanychanceI mighthaveofbecomingatournamentplayer.
Thereisonemanwhocomes occasionally,betterdressedthanthe usualcrowdandmoreskilledaswell. Hewantstoplaylongergames,and hisrespectforSmolijisgrudgingat best.Smolijusuallyignoreshim,but nowandthenhewillmutter,“Club player.”Ifitislateandabadnight,he willyellit.
Smolij’stimeasaclubplayeris longbehindhim,buthedidhavehis day.Bornin1921,hecametoCanada fromPolandin1954.Heiscredited withfivetournamentgamesbetween 1956and1976;in1959hewonthe Ontariochampionship,allowinghim anunsuccessfulbidfortheCanadian Championship.Duringthoseyears, hewasamachinist.Hekeptachessboardclosetohisworkstation.His
employerobjectedandin1975hewas letgo.Stillunemployed,heearns moneywithhischesspiecesandclock, spendinglonghoursdoingwhathe lovesmost.
Andhedoesitverywell.I’ve alreadyusedoverthreeandahalfof myfiveminutes,whileSmolijis barelyatfifteenseconds.Thereare fivepeoplewatchingusplay,acouple oftheregularsandafewwanderers, drawn,nodoubt,bySmolij’senergeticgamecommentaries.Igrabmy knightandbringitout,lookingto buildawallofpiecesthatwilltake himtimetochewthrough.ThenI pressdownmybuttonandmyclock stops;hisstarts.
“Thismove?Yes,thismove.” Smolijbeginshisplay-by-play.I’ve madehimthink.Threesecondslater, hecapturesmyknightwithhisbishop. “Hah.Killasyougo.”Hesmashesmy piecedownonhisbutton,restarting myclock.
Withnotimetothink,Itakehis bishopwithmypawn.Ipushdown thebuttonwithhisbishop,apetulant efforttosendamessage:twocanplay thisgame.
Wefranticallytradepieces,theclock buttonsclickinglikeametronome.
Lessthanaminutelater,Icapturehis queen.Thistime,oldman,I’vegotyou.
“Youkillmyqueen;Ikillyour king.”
Irealizehehasadvancedapawn— he’snowonlyonemoveawayfrom promotionandcheck.Evenwithmy advantageinpieces,myonlyoptionis amajorsacrifice.
Hemaybedowntojusttwenty secondsnow,butI’mdowntothirty.I makeanothermove,hopingthatIcan executethenextfewfastenoughto holdhimoff.
Ibringmyqueenintopositionand clicktheclock.Hemoveshisother bishopacrosstheboard.
Heusesmyqueentopushhis buttondownandmyclockrestarts.I considermyoptions,desperateto slowhimdown.
Eachgameisfleeting,neverlastingmorethanfiveminutes.Smolijis apermanentfixtureonthecorner. Thatwinter,Iamafrequentpatron ofhisart.Bythespring,myinterest injournalismisfading.Irealizehow muchI’menjoyingmyeconomics courseandhowexcitingitistowatch anelectionplayout.Idecideon PoliticalEconomyasamajorandam acceptedatadifferentschoolinadifferentcity.
Smolijcontinuestoplayhisnightly styleofSmash-Crashchessuntilhe failstoshowuponeFebruarynightin 1985.Heisfoundunconsciousinhis roominghouse,avictimofhypothermiaandgallstones.Hisrecoverytakes placeinanursinghome—hedoesnot returntothecorner.Instead,heputs hisenergyintoteachingchesstohis caregivers.
Thatnightin1980,theendofmylessonisnear.Idon’thaveenough materiallefttowin.Idon’tevenhave enoughpiecestoblockhispawn,just onemoveawayfrompromotion.Desperatetobuytime,Islidemylastrook overtothreatenhisking.Withoutprotection,itisgobbledup.Ipullmylast bishopbacktobuymoretime.Evenas Ihittheclock,Iknowthat,again,this isnotmygame.Smolijpusheshispawn forwardandmyclockisrunningagain. Attemptingonemoredelay,Idrawmy kingbehindafewsurvivingpawns,but Smolijshouts,“Time!”I’mjustaputz playingthemaster—I’vedonewelljust toavoidcheckmate.
Hepointstohissign,andIaccept onceagainthatI’velostto“thefastest chessplayerintheworld.”Thegame ends.Smolijtakesmydollarfrom beneathhisclockandsmiles.
CBCampbellwasborninNewRichmond, QC,andhasmigratedwestthroughtheEasternTimeZone.Henowwritesandteaches inThunderBay,ON.
Notes&Dispatches9
HeartMedicine
i Itisastreetthatnever Ends,groundtarmac Blackagainstabluesky Houseswithlowroofs Straightforward,stretched, Alsothesame Welcometothesuburbs, Therearetwokindsofmailboxes OnewiththelastnameSmith, AndonewiththelastnameBrown.
ii
Youareachildinthemiddleofthis Road.Youaresurethemoment Youstepforwardyouaremakingachoice, Eventhoughthepathonlygoesforward Here.Eitheryoustepofftheroad Orfollowinhistracks.
iii
Somanypossibilities.Youchoose Todeclinethemall.Youweren’t Supposedtoseealotofthings, Butthat’snothowweweremade Wehaveeyes.Otherthings Useothersenses.
iv
Eachhouselooksthesame. Lemonade,picnics,asimple Life.Raisechildren, Obedientones.Also,urban Areas.Neonlights. Lesschildren.Youknoweach Chapterhasalocation. Youchoosenottowrite, Buttimepasses.Peoplearewaiting Forthebook.
v
Youarecounting.Youare Playingagame.Numbers Droponebyone. Tinkanddrip.Youopenyour Eyes.Whereiseveryone?
vi
Firstitlooksmorelikeadream. Youwishitwasone.Flattarmacroad. Womendrinkinglemonades,young Girlstryingonnewnailpolishesinthe backyard. Boysplayingsports.Thennight.Not asinglelightin Asinglewindow.Beep.Wakeup.
vii
Youlookbehindeverychair,search Everycorner,openeverydrawer ReadyornothereIcome, Yousaid.Looksliketheywereall Readywithoutyou.Yousee Thehandsontheclockmoving.After Awhileyoucrybecauseyou’reachild. Youcan’tpullapartimaginary Andfriend.
viii
Itwasn’tsupposedtobelikethis Everyoneelselookshappier. Youknowyouonlyliveonce. You’vealreadyexhaustedsimplepleasure Andknowledgecutintooldwounds Thenyoutriedconsumingyourself Thetasteofahumanmind Waslikethatofash.
ix
Showmewhereithurts, Shesaid.Atfirst Youdon’tknowwhere, Thenyoupointtoyour Elbow.Shekissesyourknee.
x
Youhavebruises
Therewastime
Youspenttryingto Healthem.
Asin,timewasted. Yourmotheralwayssaid Everywoundisjustpreparation Forthenext.
Asin,lateronyougonumb. Youshutyourselfoff, Yousaywordslike Sentimentaland
…
Isanyonehome?
MazzySleepisaten-year-oldfromToronto,ONwhobeganwritingduringthepandemic. Shehaswrittenoveronethousandpoemsandshortstories,aswellastwofeaturescreenplays andanovella.Herworkhasappearedorisforthcomingin Queen’sQuarterly, Rattle,the Margins, BarrenMagazine, JellyfishReview andelsewhere.Findherat mazzysleep.com.
10Geist122Winter2022
MAZZYSLEEP
RedFlags
DAVIDM.WALLACE
Themapleleafnolongerfeelslikeasymbolofnationalpride
WhenmypublisherlearnedthatI wasplanningabicycletourfrom MontréaltoVictoria,theydecidedthat Ishouldusetheopportunitytopromote mydebutnovel, TheLittleBruddersof Miséricorde.Thebookisadarkcomedy thatfeaturesafrancophonemouseand arecentlyretiredanglophoneschoolteacherwhoissetadriftinan unfamiliarcity.Animprobable premise,butinsomeways,it mightbedescribedasanaffectionatelyprofanespinon LePetit Prince.Andliketheeponymous characterofthatslimvolume whovisitsEarthandwondersif itisuninhabited,Ialsofound myselftravellingforsometime withoutmeetinganyonealong thehighway.Or,atleast,anyone whowasnotsafelyensconced insideavehicle.Myfirst encounterwasnotwithahuman atall,butwithablackbear.
Itwasnotabigbearandat first,Ithoughtitmightbea cub.Itcamelopingoutofthe treelineonmyright,running alongsidetheTrans-Canada Highwayperhapsthirtymetres frommybike.Itlookedlike ourpathsmightconvergea littlewayahead.
Myfirstthoughtwas:“Aww, cute.”
Mysecondwas:“Ifthisisa cub,where’sthemother?”
Atransportpassed.Itwasbigand loudenoughtosendthebearback intothebush.Theencounterwasa momentofconcern.Notfear,really, butunsettlingenoughthatthenext dayIstrappedonmybearspray.
Twodayslater,Imetsomeoneelse whowasnotinavehicle:aman,maybe earlythirties,standingalongsidethe
Trans-Canadaintheentrancetoa highwayconstructionsite.Hewaved medown.
“Doyouneedwater?”heshouted. Ipulledupnexttohistruck.My ladenbikeslidalittlesidewaysonthe loosegravel.Weexchangedgreetings. Whereyoucomingfrom?Montréal.
couplehundredquickcaloriesina coldbottlewasappealing.Ichosea gingerale.
“You’regoingtopassJamesTopp.” Hepointedwestdownthehighway. “He’sonlyacoupleofkilometres away.
“Idon’tthinkIknowwhoJames Toppis.”Icrackedopentheginger aleandtookasip.
“He’swalkingfromVancouverto Ottawatoprotestvaccinemandatesand togetrestitutionforthosewhowere unfairlyfired.”Hewasveryexcited. Ittookmeamomenttoprocess whathewassaying.Typically, someonecyclingorwalking acrossthecountrymightbe tryingtoraiseawarenessor fundresearchonPTSD,diabetes,reforestationorclean water.ItappearedIhad chanceduponanendeavour moreattunedtothe“Freedom Convoy”whosebigrigshad rolledintoOttawalastJanuary andnoisilyoccupiedthestreets foramonth,ostensiblyto protestvaccinepassports.Their grievancesalsoappearedto includeseveralfar-righthobbyhorsesfavouredbywhite supremacists.Widelysharedon Twitterwasaphotoofan Americanconfederateflag flyingamongthemanyCanadianmapleleaves.
Whereyouheading?Victoria.
HehauledoutaCanadianTire insulatedicebox.Inotedtheboldred triangleandgreenmapleleaf.Hehad water,Gatorade,softdrinks,granola bars.
“Takewhateveryouneed.” Ihadplentyofwaterbutitwas noononanintenselyhotdayanda
Whilecyclingacross Canada,youdon’troutinelyget offeredcoldwaterandsoft drinksbystrangers.Irealized hewaswaitingforJamesTopp topasssothathecouldsupply refreshments.ThoughIdidn’t feelanysympathyforthecausehewas supporting,Ididn’twanttoappear ungrateful.
“It’sbeenareallytoughcoupleof yearsforeveryone,”Isaid.Icapped thegingeraleandslippeditintomy frontpannier.
“Godblessyou!”heshoutedasI pulledaway.
Notes&Dispatches11
Image: DrivingUptheStrangeSkies byMingWu,2021,collage
AfewminuteslaterIcaughtsight ofJamesTopp.Helookedtobeinhis midforties.Orangeandyellowsafety vest.Intheblisteringheat,hewasin trousersandbootsandtakingdeterminedstridesalongthegravelshoulder.Trailinghim,alittleclutchof localsupportersbrandishingthe Canadianflagatwaistlevelliketagteammatadors.Ayoungmanwith longyellowhairwasphotographing theirapproach.
“Livingfree!”thephotographer said,andgavemeathumbsup.James ToppnoddedgravelyasIpassed.It occurredtomethathehadalready walkednearlythedistancethatI plannedtocycle.But,ofcourse,he hadateam.Sponsors,Isuppose. ProbablyaWinnebago.Aproperbed everynight.Still,hehadwalkedfrom Vancouver. Walked.
AlittlelaterIgoogledhim.Afew briefarticlesfocussedonhiscomplaintsaboutthelackofmainstream mediacoverage.Hehadstartedatthe TerryFoxMemorialinVancouver. Heplannedtoendhiswalkatthe OttawaTomboftheUnknownSoldier.Oddhowself-proclaimed“freedomfighters”arewillingtoco-opt symbolsofservicebutseemoblivious tothefactthattheirheroesmadesacrificesforthecommongoodandnot indefenceofindividualprivileges. TerryFox’sMarathonofHopeenvisionedacureforcancer.Topp’s endeavourwasthesortthatrisked prolongingadeadlypandemic.
Fromthenewsarticles,it appearedWarrantOfficerTopp (armyreserves)wasfacingacourt martial. Conducttotheprejudiceofgood orderanddiscipline. Itcouldinclude dismissalwithdisgraceanduptotwo yearsinprison.
Whilewearinghisuniform,Topp postedtwoonlinevideoscriticizing COVID-19vaccinerequirementsfor militarypersonnelandotherfederal employees.Whichallseemsstrange, sincemilitarypersonnelarealready requiredtobevaccinatedforallthe
usualdiseases.Theysometimes receiveadditionalvaccinationsifthey aredeployedoverseas.Somethingto dowithmaintainingoperational readiness.
Afewhourslater,somefiftykilometresfartherwest,therehewas again.Theguywho’dgivenmethe gingerale.Hesaidhehadpassedme inhistruckanddecidedtopullover tosayhellooncemore.Hesmiled broadlyandcalledmearealinspiration.Outcametheicebox.
“Helpyourself,”hesaid.“Anythingyouwant.”
Itooksomeicecubesandplopped themintomywaterbottle.Somehow takingmorewouldhavemademe feelcomplicitinacauseIcan’t support.
“Idon’tevenknowyourname,”he said.
Itoldhimandaskedhis.
“Vince.”Weshookhands.
Onsomelevel,IlikedVince.To mehe’dbeenkindandthoughtful andencouraging.Hewasdoingwhat hethoughtwasright.Believingin something.Maybeneedingsomethingtobelievein.Maybeeven thinkingthatIandmanyothers believethesamethingshedoes. Maybehecan’tseethathe’stakena marginalstance.Idon’tthinkhe’sa badguy.
Andapartfromalittleblackbear, hewastheonlylivingcreaturethat I’dmetlately,alongthesideofthe Trans-Canada,whowasn’twhizzing pastinavehicle.He,andJamesTopp withhislittleflag-totingentourage. Allofthemalittlenear-sightedand blunderingalongthehighway.Only thebear,though,likelytobecompletelyharmless.Vincewishedme safetravels.
Ispentnearlythreemonths cyclingtheTrans-Canada.Several timesIsaw“F*ckTrudeau”flags— oddlysinister—boldwhiteletterson ablackfield.Starkasaskulland crossbones.Aredmapleleafwhere I’veinsertedanasterisk.Inthe
aftermathoftheOttawatruckers’ protest,akindofinchoaterageseems tohaveemergedfromadisaffected minorityofCanadians.Ipasseda housewithalongbannerdeclaring:“Thank-you,truckers,for makingmeaproudCanadian again.”Moremapleleaves.I saw“FreedomFighter”emblazoned abovethewindshieldofasemi. Mapleleaves,again.Ievenmetaguy outsideaPetro-Canadawhoasked meifIwasawarethattheFreemasonsareinleaguewiththefederal governmentandthat,together,they aredevelopinganewlow-frequency sonicweapontomurdertheirenemies.Abig,stylizedmapleleafinthe Petro-Cansignloomingabovehim. Coincidence,Iknow,but…
Nationsthathaveexperiencedthe shameofaperversepatriotism(Germany,Japan)consideritsocially unacceptableforprivatecitizensto displaythenation’sflag.InCanada,a factionofdiscontentsappearstohave co-optedtheflagasasymboloftheir anger.Afterthreemonthspedalling acrossCanada,themapleleafhas becomenotafamiliaremblemof nationalpride,butakindofcoded messagebetween“freedomfighters.”
Niceguys,likeVince.Friendly, butfullofadisquietingfervour.Generallywhitemen,hurtandconfused andlookingtofeelheroicindefence ofthecomfortableadvantagesthey onceexclusivelyenjoyed.Lookingto equatepatriotismwiththeirownpreferredtraditions.Effacingtheparadoxesoffreedomandreducingitto mereindividualism.Andultimately, inspiringdread,ratherthanpride,at thesightofamapleleaf.
Untilhisretirement,DavidM.Wallace wasasecondaryschoolteacherinBurnaby, BC.HenowlivesinMontréal,QC,scribblingpoetry,proseandsongs.Heisanavid all-weatherbicyclist.
12Geist122Winter2022
DavidSheskinisawriterandartistwholivesinBethel,CT.Hisworkhasbeenpublished innumerousmagazines,includingthe DalhousieReview, PuertodelSol,the Satirist andthe FloridaReview.Hismostrecentbookis DavidSheskin’sCabinetofCuriosities
Notes&Dispatches13
PRESS1IF DAVIDSHESKIN
Scavengers
JENNILEEAUSTRIA
That’soneforthericebag!
WhenIwasgrowingupinSarnia, myfamilyhadastrangehobby.
OnSundaysafterchurch,we’dgo toopenhouses.Wewerealwaysthe onlyimmigrantsthere,butweheld ourdarkheadshigh,knowingthatwe lookedbetterthanwewouldallweek. Ourcrisply-pressedSearsoutfitsand pristinepatent-leatherPaylessshoes werenothinglikeourpambahay—the batteredsandos,baggyshorts,and rubbertsinelasweworeathomewhen ourblindswereclosed.That’swhenwe revertedtotheFilipinoimmigrant familywetrulywere:ascrappybluecollarfatherfromtheManilaslums,a proud-but-underemployedmotherwith anuntransferableteachingdegreeand twocompliantgirlsgrowingupina smellyOntariooilrefinerytown.
Attheopenhouses,wewouldtour thepropertiesslowly,pressingour browntoesintotheplush,creamcolouredcarpets,runningourhot fingersalongthecoolgranitecountertops,andmarvellingatfridges withicedispensersthatspilledice cubesalloverthefloorwheneverwe pressedthebuttonstoohard.
“Wehaveonejustlikeitathome, butatleastourshasabuilt-inicecontainer,”myfatherwouldsay,wearing hiswhiteliesoverhisSundaybest.
Astherealestateagentrushedto cleanuptheice,I’dgrabacanof7UP andpocketasmanycookiesasIcould.
Butthatwasn’tthehobby.
Whentheopenhousewasover, we’dcomebacktothatemptyhouse. I’dcoverupmyfrillychurchdress
withmysister’soldGarfieldshirt, changeoutofmyshinyMaryJanes andpullonapairofworndenimoverallsthatmatchedtheonesmyfather putonoverhisownchurchclothes.
Mymotherandsisterwouldstayin thecaraslookouts.
“Makeitquick,”mysisterwould say,handingmetwoemptyricebags.
“Dowereallyhavetodothis?”my motherwouldhiss.“Wedon’twantto ruinourgoodname.”
“We’reinCanada,remember?”my fatherwouldreply,swappinghisfancy churchshoesforadustypairofNikes. “Wedon’tevenhaveaname!”
Trailingmyfatheraroundthe perimeterofthehouse,I’dputonthe men’sgloveshe’dpilferedfromtheoil refinerythatweretoobigevenforhim andkeepmyeyesgluedtotheground. Aroundthenewhomes,thegrass hadn’tbeenlaidyet,leavingdry,rough earthexposed.
Andthere,inthatgloriousdirt, wererocks.
WhenmyparentscametoSarnia, theneighbourshadafancygarden installedbyalandscapingcompany. Therewasagurglingwaterfallthat trickleddownintoapond,withthe mostbeautifulborderofrocksthat curvedalongthewater’sedge,leading downtothecorneroftheyardwhere theirpropertymetours.
Therockswerelargeandsmooth tothetouch,andIlovedtoholdthem inmyhands,feelingtheweightinmy palmsbeforemymotherscoldedme: “Wedon’twantthemtosaythat immigrantsarethieves,okay?Wewant themtothinkthatwe’regoodpeople!” She’dcarefullyputtherocksback, makingsuretoofferanapologetic waveinthedirectionoftheneighbours’window,justincasetheywere looking.
Whenmyfathercalledthelandscaperstoinquirehowmuchtherocks cost,theyquotedhimafigurehigher thanhisentirerefinerypaycheque.
“Whypayforsomethingwecan scavengeforfree?”heasked.
14Geist122Winter2022 Image: Researchersa.(SeriesI.) byJánJuhaniak,2018,collage/mixedmediaonpaper
Whenwesearchedaroundthenew houses,wecouldneverfindthesame smooth,darkrocksthattheneighbourshad,sowegrewtopreferthe red,grey,andbrownonesinstead.
“Onlypicktheoneswithwhite stripes,”myfatherwouldremindme. “Thosearetheonesthatlook expensive.”
WheneverI’dspotaperfectspecimen,we’dsquatdowninthedirtand pourabitof7UPontotherock.I’d holdmybreathandwatchthedesigns thatwouldbloomacrossitlikemagic.
“Angganda!”myfatherwouldsay. “That’soneforthericebag!”
Whentherockhuntwasover,we’d haulourfindsbacktothecar,peeloff ourdustygearanddrivebacktoour littlebungalowontheoutskirtsof town.
Andinthegoldenlightofthesettingsun,we’dplacetherocksalong theedgeofourgarden,imagininghow theywouldlookbesidetheflowers thatwouldbloomtheresomeday.
Wheneverwesawtheneighbours peeringatusthroughtheirblinds,my parentswouldsmileandwaveatthem.
“Girls,seehowthey’rewatching us?”myfatherwouldask.“They’re probablysaying,‘Lookhowthey boughtsuchlovelyrocksintheir lovelyclothes!Whataclassyimmigrantfamily!’”
Butsincetheyneverspoketous,we neverreallyknewwhattheythought.
Onethingwedoknow:yearslater, whenmyparentsdivorcedandwe movedaway,thefirstthingthose neighboursdidwastakeourrocks.
Scavengers.
JennileeAustriaisaFilipina-Canadian writer,speakerandschoolboardconsultant whobuildsbridgesbetweeneducatorsandFilipinofamilies.OriginallyfromSarnia,ON, shenowlivesindowntownToronto,where shestillkeepsaneyeoutfortheprettiest rocks.Findheratjennileeaustria.comoron InstagramandTwitter@Jennilee_A.
Notes&Dispatches15
FINDINGS
MariLywd, 2018,papercuttingandgouacheand TheBlackPrincesses,2019,papercuttingandgouachebyJess Richter.InfluencedbyBritish,GermanandEastern-Europeanfolkritualandtradition,Jessrecontextualizesthesepractices withincontemporarySaskatchewantoexplorethesubmergedidentitiesofGerman-Canadiansinpostwar,ruralCanada.
HostileVibration
TARAMCGUIRE
From HoldenAfterandBefore:LoveLetter foraSonLosttoOverdose byTaraMcGuire. PublishedbyArsenalPulpPressin2022.Tara McGuire’sworkhasbeenpublishedinmagazines andfeaturedonCBCRadio. HoldenAfterand Before isherfirstfull-lengthwork.Shelivesin NorthVancouver,BC.Findherattaramcguire.com.
Alayerofripe-garbagesmellhangsovereverything, andthesky,whathecanseeofit,isoilygold,like it’sbeenpaintedwithacoatofmeltedbutter. Holden’sneverexperiencedthiskindofhumidity before.SweatexpandsacrossthebackofhisT-shirt,
andhisjeansarestucktohislegs.Heseesfireescapes andbrickwalls,dumpstersinalleyways,andrusty lamppostsalongtheedgeofthestreet.Astheywalk, heimaginestaggingeachobject;hishandmoves involuntarily,asifhe’swritinghisnameintheair inglossywhitelines.Hecanevenseetheletters drippingasheandhismomcontinueontheirway: RuleR, RuleR, RuleR.Heinhalesthefumesandthe noiseofNewYorkCityandrealizeshe’ssmiling. Hisshouldersarerelaxing.Theelectricbuzzinside hisribcagehasbeenturneddowntoathree.
Holdentriestolookupattheskyscrapers withouttrippingoverthecracksinthesidewalk. TheylandedatJFKlessthantwohoursago,and alreadythey’re“outexploring.”
Whydoyoualwayshavetowalksofast? You’relikeafreakin’squirrel.
16Geist122Winter2022
Holyshit!Hismomstopsabruptlyinthe middleofthewidesidewalk.She’slookingupat theblackawningabovetheirheads.It’sBirdland! Sheturnstohimeagerly,buthehasnoideawhy thisplaceissignificant.Wehavetogoin!Every greatjazzmusicianinthehistoryoftheworldhas playedhere.ShepullsonHolden’sarm.
Dude,wecan’tgoin,it’sabar.Hetakesastep backfromher,towardthecurb,asifshe’sjust askedhimtohelphertorobabank.
Howdoyouknow?Sheshrugs.Maybewecan. Comeon,let’stry.
Thisiswhatheloves-hatesabouther.Always tryingtoweaselherwayin.Shedoesn’t“pay attentiontotherules,”whichiswhatshe’salways tellinghimtodo.
Thedoormanwavesthemthroughwitha
borednod.BeforeHoldencanprocesswhat’s happening,he’ssittingatatableinwhatappears tobeajazzbar/restaurantcombo.Waitersin jacketsaredeliveringplatesoffoodandtraysof drinks.Instrumentsandmusicstandsclutterthe stage.Mostofthepeopleattheothertablesare oldandBlack.Hefeelsverynotold,andverynot Black.It’sawkwardandabitexcitingatthesame time.Imean,he’sinaclubinNYC.Andhe’snot evensixteenyet.
Heleansbackinhischairandlooksaround, handsrestinglooselyonhisthighs.Yup,he’sthe youngestpersonherebylike,ahundredyears. He’sincrediblyuncomfortable—dampclothes, stiffchair,awkwardsilence.Hismomisgrinningathimfromacrossthetable.Heforcesa weaksmile.
Findings17
Thewaitersetsdowntwoglassesofbeerin frontofhismom,becausethere’satwo-drink minimum,andby“drink”theymeanthedreaded alcohol.AfreshCokefizzesinfrontofhim,which isfuckingironicconsideringhe’srarelyallowedto drinkthedevil’ssugarwaterathome.Inhislife he’sprobablyconsumedmorebeerthanCoke. He’salsoeatenmorezucchinimuffinsthan chocolatecupcakes.
Itwouldbesomuchbettertobeolder.Ifhe wasolder,oneofthosebeerswouldsitinfront ofhim,andhecouldsignalthewaitertobring himanotherwithoutanyonetellinghimhe couldn’t.Butsomeoneelse,asusual,iscalling theshots.Hecan’twaittobeoldenoughtobe inchargeofhimself.Theneverythingwillbeso mucheasier.Ifhewasolder,theladyeyeballing
MARATHON
From Butthesun,andtheships,andthe fish,andthewaves byConyerClayton.PublishedbyAnvilPressin2022.ConyerClayton istheauthorof WeShedOurSkinLike Dynamite (GuernicaEditions),whichwon the2021OttawaBookAward.Shelivesin Ottawa,ON.Findheratconyerclayton.com.
Iforgottoleavemyhusband,soIgoonarun wearingonlyagiantshirt.ItrainsandIhave nokeys.I’minacity,oneIalsoforgottoleave, wetandwhistledat,sober.Iheadinsideabar todryoff,whenamanIoncekissedwhile highonmollyswingsmeinacircle,hishand onmyhip. Whoareyouagain? Iask,leaning dizzyintohim,mypupilsswallowingsilence, remembering. Youdon’tknowme,hesays.The barisatinybedroomwithwindowsinsteadof walls.Thestreetislinedwithbarslikethis. Everyonepeersinside.I’msober,Iremind myself,andtellhimIhaveaboyfriend—oh wait,actuallyI’mmarried. I’msounhappy though,ithardlycounts.Wekissandit’s2a.m.I havetorunhomebeforehusband’sshiftends. Thisdamncityhasnocabs,butIholdmyarm outasIsprinthomeanyway.
himfromacrossthetable,herfacetintedafaint orangebythethinstripsofneonabovethe stage,wouldbeyounger,moreinteresting,and theywouldprobablybegettingshizzled.Maybe hewouldleantowardher,elbowsonthetable, closingthespacebetweenthem.Maybeshe wouldtiltforward,too,laughingathishilarious banter.
There’ssomethingextremelydistressing aboutgoingtoyourfirstbarwithyourgoddamn mother.Completelyandfundamentallywrong. Shouldn’taman’sfirsttriptoabarbecooler thanthis?Amilestone—likehisfirstfuck. Somethinghecanlookbackonlaterwithpride, somethinghecanbragabouttohisfriends.It shouldnotbesprungonhimlikeacarjacking. Thisissomessed.Hisfacehardens,andthe familiarprickleandbuzzbeginstoflareunder hisskin.Helooksaround,tryingtofigureouta possibleescape.Howcanhestopthisbeforeit goestoofar?
MaybeweshouldjustgotoTimesSquare, Momz?hesays.Can’twegolookatthecheesy lights?Can’twejustgohaveaburgerandcallita night?I’mtired.
We’reherenow,honey,wedon’thavetostay long,shesays.
They’vemissedtheirchance.Thebandhas takenthestageandiscountinginasongherecognizesfromhisdad’sCDcollection,butcan’t quitepeg.Hewillinasecond,though.It’sclose. Hecanalmostgrabthetitlefromtheairjust aboveandtotherightofhismom’shead.He’s alwaysbeenabletoseemusic.Asalittlekidhe couldidentifyallthedifferentinstrumentsinthe songsontheradio.
Thatonehasviolinsandasaxophone.Doyou hearthetrumpet,Mama?
No,Idon’t.Momwouldlookoverathimfrom thedriver’sseat.ButI’msureyou’reright.
Musichasalwaysbeencleartohim.Easy.
Thedudeonthestand-upbassisrunningan incredibleriff,andeventhoughthedrummeris leadingtherhythmsection,he’sworkingthe snarebeautifullyfromjustaslightshadebehind everyoneelse.Classicback-seatdriver.The musicenvelopsHoldenandseepsintohis muscles.
Thewallbehindhismom’sheadisfilledwith framed,signedportraits.Herecognizesalotof them:Parker,Mingus,Holiday,Davis,Fitzgerald. They’veallperformedonthisstagejustafewfeet away.She’sright,itisfuckingamazing.Hepicks
18Geist122Winter2022
uphisCoke,takesasip,andthereitis—heknows thesongthebandisplaying.“TakeFive”byDave Brubeck.Nailedit.
Hismomslowlysurveystheroom.Thenshe exhales,leansforward,setsherhandpurposefully onthewhitetablecloth,andslidesoneofthe glassesofbeertowardhim.
Whattheheck,shesays,lookingoverher shouldertocheckifanyonesawher.
Holdenlaughsoutloud.Hepicksuptheglass andisabouttotakeasip.
Wait!Sheraisesherglassandholdsitout towardhim.Cheers!Happyalmostbirthday!
TheydrinkasthebandseguesintoThelonious Monk’s“BodyandSoul.”Hegetsthatoneinthe firstfewnotes.
Holden’sglassisempty longbeforehers.Themusic continuesandanotherbeer arrives,thenanother.Soon theneonlightingseemsless offensive,thechairless hardagainsthisback,and hismother’svoicelessabrasiveinhisears.Hewatchestheband,noticing howalloftheirlimbsaremovinginrhythm, elbowsjerking,kneesrisingandfalling,heads bobbinginunison.Theypassaroundthelead, communicatinginsubtlegestures.Hecanseethe layersofmusicoverlappingasthemusicianswork togethertobuildsomethingmorebeautifuland substantialthananyofthemcouldmakeby themselves.
Thehostilevibrationinsidehisribcagedrains awaylikespaghettiwaterthroughastrainer. Anotherbeeranditbecomeslessworktosmile backathismom.She’ssittingtherewatchingthe band,herfingerskeepingtrackofthebeatonthe tablecloth.Shesoftlygrinstoherself,andherhead dipsintimewiththebeat.
Maybethetripisagoodideaforthemafterall. AllthatfightingwithherandCamaboutthe homeworkthing,andthepotthing,andthegirlin hisroomthing,andthestealingboozething,and thesneakingouttopaintthing,andthecops thing.Hefeelsaninvoluntarysurgeofaffection floodhischest.Hismomtriessohard,butshe doesn’thaveafuckingclue.Shedoesn’tknow him,andhecan’texplainhimselftoher,sothere’s alwaysaspacebetweenwhattheybothwantand whattheyeachhave.
Clappingandcheersfillthevoidleftbythe fadingvibrationofthemelody.Themusicians
tenderlysetdowntheirinstrumentsandwalkoff, likeconstructionworkersatthelunchwhistle.
Coffeebreakfortheband,hismomsays.Have youhadenough?Wecangoanytime.
Sure,hesays,thoughthisseemslikeagood placetostayforawhile.
Shepaystheirtabwithagreenhundred-dollar bill,andwhenthewaiterbringsthechangeback, shehandsHoldenatwentythatlookstohim exactlylikethehundredshejustpaidwith.
Here,incasewegetseparated.Notthatwe will.
Hetucksthetwentyintothefrontpocketof hisjeans.Separated?
Hefollowsheroutthroughtheclub,downthe red-carpetedstairs,through theheavydoubledoor,and ontothestreet,whereit’s notquitedark.Ahintof azuredrapesacrossthe chunkofskyhecansee.
Doyouthinkyoucould findyourwaybacktoour placeifyouhadto?
They’renotstayinginahotel.Someradical professorladywhoMomandCammetatanItalianrestaurantinParisofferedthemherapartment.Imean,whyyouwouldgotoanItalian restaurantinFrance,hehasnoidea.Apparently theapartmentisrentcontrolled,whichisarare andnoteworthything.Fromwhatheremembers, thebuildinglooksexactlylikeeveryotherapartmentonthestreet.Brownbricks,cementsteps withwroughtironrailings,blackfrontdoor. SureIcould.
Good.Howwouldyougetthere?
Iwould…Helooksleftandright,upand downthestreet.Iwould…Hehasnofucking idea.Well,it’son72ndAvenue.
It’son75thStreet.AtAmsterdam,shesays.You couldtakethesubwayto72ndStreetandwalk fromthere.Rememberthat,75thandAmsterdam. Gotit,75thandAmsterdam.
Butdon’tworry,I’mnotlettingyououtofmy sight.
So,justlikeathomethen.Helaughs. Yes,justlikethat.Shelaughstoo,onlybigger. Sheslipsherarmthroughthebendofhiselbow andtheywalk,linkedtogether,towardtheartificialglowofwhathepresumesisTimesSquare.
Findings19
�� Image:DerekBeaulieu.Excerptfrom SurfaceTension.
NothingforMoney
JOSEPHKAKWINOKANASUM
FromMyIndianSummerbyJosephKakwinokanasum.PublishedbyTidewaterPressin2022.Joseph KakwinokanasumisofCreeandAustriandescent. MyIndianSummer ishisfirstnovelandisloosely basedonhisownchildhood.HelivesonVancouver Island,BC.Findhimatstarblanketstoryteller.ca.
1978wastheyearHunterlearnedabouthunger. Atthebeginningofthesummerholidays,heslept restlesslyforthethirdnightinthesamejeansand T-shirt.Hunterthoughthishomelifewaslikeliving inabattle;hehadtobereadytomove,alwayson thedefensive.
Arushofwatercoursingthroughthepipes jarredhimawake.Hesatupslowly,feelinglikehe hadn’tslept.Hisbellyrumbledwithhungerand hewasdizzy,hisheadfulloffog.Above,heheard thesoundofhismothershufflingintothe kitchen,thenthenoiseofthefaucetandakettle beingfilled.Thedigital clockonhisbedsidetable shone:8:17.Margarettehad goneoutforgroceriesfive daysearlierandhadn’tbeen seenagainuntilelevenlast nightwhenshearrivedwith apartythatlasteduntilfour inthemorning.
Hewasaloneinthebasement—withNoah awayonhisfirstseasonwiththeWildfireService, stressinthehousehadbeenreducedbyhalf.He swunghisfeetovertheedge.Hisjeanswere rolleduptohisknees,T-shirttwisted,white cottontubesocks,wornthroughattheheel,were rolleddowntohisankles.Hunterslidhisfeet intothesneakershe’dleftathisbedside,heard thephoneringandMargarettewalkacrossthe kitchenfloortothediningroom,wherethe phonehungonthewall.
“Tansi,”heheardheranswer.
Hunterstraightenedhisclothesonhiswayto thebathroomtopee.Upstairshelookedpastthe kitchenintothediningroomandsawMargarette onthephonenursingherhangoverandtalkingto someoneinCree.Thehousewasamess.Again.
Inthebathroom,emptybottlesanddrink glassespushedagainstthelargemirrorthatran thelengthofthecounter.Anashtrayfullofhalfsmokedcigarettesandburnedfiltersteeteredat
theedge.Heemptiedtheashtrayinthetrashbin betweenthecounterandthetoilet.Hepissed, leavingabitofpiddleonthetoiletseat.Hewiped itoffwithhissockedfoot,washedhishandsand walkedtothekitchen.Thekettlehadjustbegun toboil.Hemadeacupofsweettea.Onthe kitchentablewasahalf-eatenbowlofDeb’sporridge.Hunterlookedatit:breakfast.Debwas longgone,ontheearlyshiftattheBlueSky RestaurantinDawsonCreekwhereshehada part-timejob.
Besidestheemptybottlespiledinthekitchen sink,acaseofemptystubbiesandaspenttwentysix-ouncebottleofCrownRoyalsatonthe counter.Hunterdraggedhisfeettotheliving room,knowingthathe’dhavetocleanhis mother’smessorriskgettingalicking.Hejoined Kitty,amassiveorangetabbywithhisballsintact andanattitudetoproveit,ontheoldcouchand pulledthethrowfromthefrayedarmrestover himself.
Helistenedtohismotherspeakalanguagehe hardlyunderstood.Theinflections,timbre,inher voice,hecouldn’tgrasp. Onephraseheknewwell.
“Mukweysoniyaw,”heheard hersay.Nothingformoney. Margarettetalkedforseveralminutes,andattheend oftheconversationlaughed,
“Eksetigway,echagen.”She hungupthephone.
Shemovedintothelivingroom,notlooking athim.Sherummagedthroughtherecords besidetheancienthi-fiandputoneon.Country. Hunterhatedmostcountry.Margarettewalked downthehalltothebathroom.Themusicblared, andHunterfollowed.Margaretteopenedher makeupkitonthebathroomcounter,leaned closetothemirrorandappliedhereyebrows.She hummedthesongplayingonthestereo.Merle Haggard.
“Whydon’tyouteachushowtospeakCree?” askedHunter.
“It’spointless,”shesaid.“Nobodyspeaksthe languageanymore.”
“Youspeakitwithallyourfriends,”replied Hunter.
“Wushte!” shesaid.“Getoutofhere.”Margaretteswattedathimlikehewasamosquito.
Hunterduckedandwentbacktothedining room.Hesatatthetable,closetothephone.He glancedbetweenthewall-mountedanalogue
22Geist122Winter2022
ImagesbyPaulWongonpages20and21areexcerptsfrom OccupyingChinatown byDebbieCheung,ChristopherLee andPaulWong.PublishedbyOnMainGalleryin2021.Moreinformationcanbefoundin“ArtistsinthisIssue”onpage6.
clockandthephone.Itwasacoupleofminutes tonine.Outside,magpiesandravenssquawked, signallingthewarmingairasmorninglight pouredthroughthewindows.Thephonerang, andHunterpickeditupmid-ring.ItwasJacob andEric,onthepartyline.Thethreefriendshad arrangedthecallthedaybefore.
“Whereyouwanttomeet?”askedJacob.
“WecanmeetatMcDonald’s,”saidEric.
“Can’t. Nomoney,”saidHunter.
“Isyourmomhome?”askedJacob.
“Yeah,maybeshehassomemoney,”saidEric.
Huntercuppedhishandoverhismouthand thereceiver.“Ijustheardhersay mukwey soniyaw,” hewhispered.“Thatmeansshe’sgotno money.”
“Notevenacouplequarters?”askedEric, exaggerateddisbeliefinhisvoice.
Jacobsnapped,“Ifhesaidshe’sbroke,she’s broke.”
“Thenwherearewegoingtomeet?”asked Eric.
“Let’smeetatthemuseum,”saidHunter.
“Tenminutes?”askedJacob.Theboysagreed andhungup.
Margarettewalkedintothekitchen.Shehad managedtochangeintoacleanoutfitofchestnut brownpolyesterpantsandabaggyfloralprint top.Hunter,stillsittingatthekitchentable,kept oneeyeonhismotheracrosstheroom.
“CanIhaveacoupleofquarters,Mom?” Hunterspokeovertherecordplayer.
“What,doIlooklikeabank?”saidMargarette.“Look,”shepointedatthepileofbottles besideher,“gottabeatleastfourbitsthere.Take thoseback.Andcleanupthisdamnedmess.”
Someoneknocked.“Austum,”yelledMargarette.CarolandIngridwalkedthroughthe frontdoor.
“Tansi,”saidCarol,wholivedtwoblocksdown thestreet.Hunterdidn’tsayhellotohismother’s drinkingbuddies,justpickedupthecaseofstubbiesandcarrieditoutside.MomentslaterMargaretteandherfriendsdescendedthefrontsteps, chatteringinCree.
“Youbegoodthisweekend!”Margarette pointedalongslenderfingeratHunter.Hedidn’t askwhereshewasgoing.Therewasnopoint.He knew.Buthedidn’tknowwhenshe’dbeback.Or ifshewouldbringgroceries.Theypiledintothe Pontiacandspedofftowardsthecity.
WAYSTODEALWITHWORRY
From DreamofMeasWater byDavidLy.Publishedby PalimpsestPressin2022.DavidLyistheauthorof Mythical Man (PalimpsestPress)andtheco-editorof QueerLittle Nightmares (ArsenalPulpPress).
1.Writeyourworriesonstickynotes. Throwthemonthegroundanddrawacirclearoundthem. Sprinklesaltontothecircletolightitonfire.
2.Startbytexting,“I’mworriedthat…”inamessage toyourself.Thinkabouthowsweetpecanpieis, andallowautofilltodotherest.
3.Leaveabottleoutsideduringastorm andseehowmuchlightningyoucancatch. Whenit’sjustaboutfull,takeasip. Ifyou’restillthirsty,moveonto#9.
4.UninstallTwitter.
5.Actually,justthrowyourphoneintothecircle withthestickynotes.
6.Puton OurPlanet andlistentoDavidAttenborough explainhowseagrassabsorbscarbondioxide tocounteractthewarmingofshallowseas, andthensulkaboutthedeathoftheEarth.
7.LayinbedandlistentoGretaSvaboBech; howshepullspoetrysettoLudovicoEinaudi’s“Experience” andwonderabouthowyoucouldworkitintoapoem.
8.Finallybatheyourhealingcrystalsinmoonlight. Thinkabouthowtheyhaven’tmadeyoufeelbetterbefore.
9.Drinksomewatertoseeifithelps. Ifyoufindthatyou’restillthirsty, gobackandtry#1again.
10.Makealistoftenrandompoints overthecourseoftwoweeks togetyourmindoffoftheconstantworry youfeelfornoapparentreason.
Findings23
��
SafePassagethrough Armageddon
TREEABRAHAM
From Cyclettes byTreeAbraham.Publishedby Book*hugPressin2022.TreeAbrahamisaqueer writer,bookdesignerandmakerofthings.Shewas borninOttawaandlivesinBrooklyn,NY.Find herattreeabraham.com.
(40)Thereare980kilometresofpathwaysin Ottawa—alabyrinthinenetworkweavingaroundand throughitssprawlingbounds,pastwaterwaysandinto forests,parks,andneighbourhoods.ItfeltlikealifetimecouldbespentcyclinginOttawawithoutever repeatingthesameroute.Iwouldregularlygoexplore thesepathsforseveralhoursatatimeintheOttawaGatineauregion,hardlyencounteringanotherperson orcarcrossing.Somuchofthecity’ssublimeisfound onlyinahiddenfreeze-frametuckedalongthesedense routes.Iwouldturnabendandbeconfrontedwith awoodenbridgeandstreamglisteningthroughdiffusedrays,oralakeedgedwithwillows,oraboardwalkunderacanopyofautumnaltreesscatteringcolour.
Somebeautyisvisibleonlywhenabuttedbybanality. Spotsbeautifulinaspecifictime,direction,andangle viewedfrombike-heightthatcouldn’tbereplicated. NomatterhowmuchIlovedanewplace,Irarely,if ever,returnedtoit.Ithoughttherewastoomuchelse intheworldtojustifycirclingbackaround.Ialways wantedmoreandvariednoveltiestosample.Thehighlightreelofmyplentifulandfleetingbikeridesin Ottawasurvivenowonlyinsensation,notsight
(41)MaybecyclingisbredintoCanadiancitizenry. Canadahasthelongestrecreationalpathintheworld— theGreatTrail—twenty-fourthousandkilometres meanderingacrosstotheAtlantic,Pacific,andArctic coasts.Thetraillinksup80percentofthepopulation and100percentofmyCanada-dwellingfriends.It feelslikealighthousethatcouldguidemetosafety ifIwereafugitive,orararesurvivorofapandemic orregionalalieninvasionornuclearexplosion.Icould followthetrailfromOttawatolovedonesin Toronto,ThunderBay,Calgary,Nelson,Vancouver, Victoria,orWhitehorse.Asignificantlylengthiercommutethanwithaplaneoracar,butinanArmageddon, Iwouldhavetime,andabikeunaffectedbypower outagesorfuelshortagestosecuresafepassage.
24Geist122Winter2022
GenerationalResilience
From Tsqelmucwílc:TheKamloopsIndianResidentialSchool—ResistanceandaReckoning by CeliaHaig-Brown,GarryGottfriedson,RandyFred andtheKIRSSurvivors.PublishedbyArsenalPulp Pressin2022.Haig-Brownisaneducatorandthe authorof ResistanceandRenewal:Survivingthe IndianResidentialSchool (ArsenalPulpPress). FindmoreofCelia’sandRandy’sworkatgeist.com.
ThefollowingexcerptiswrittenbyPaulF.Micheland Dr.KathrynA.Michel,childrenofJoeandAnnaMichel. AnnaMichelwasbornin1931andattendedKIRSfrom 1940–1951.
OnMay27,2021,weheardtherewouldbean announcementlaterthatdaythat215unmarked graveshadbeendetectedbyradarattheKamloops IndianResidentialSchoolsite.Thenewswashorrifyingandtragicbut,unfortunately,notshocking. Aschildrenofparentswhoattendedtheschool,we hadheardenoughstoriestosensethemagnitude ofthetraumasandabusesexperiencedthere.InCelia Haig-Brown’sbook ResistanceandRenewal,ourparents,AnnaMichel(Yelqotkwe)andthelateJoeStanleyMichel(Cicwelst)sharedsomeoftheir experiencesattheschool.Whenwereadtheirstories,weknewthattheyhadonlytoldthepartsthey wereableorwillingtoshare.Althoughourparents livedtheirlivesintheshadowofshameandofhurtful,horrifyingmemories,ourfatherwouldonlytalk abouthispositiveexperiencesatKIRS—hisroleas advocate,protector,andacademic.Hewouldnever discusstheabusehesuffered,andultimately,hetook hissecretswithhimwhenhepassedaway.Our mother’smemoriesoftheschoolwereoftensanitized asaformofself-preservation.Shemostlysays,“Residentialschoolwasgood,andittaughtustospeak Englishandtogetgoodjobs.”However,sometimes shewouldsharethateverytimeshereturnedtothe schoolandstaredatthewhiteceilings,“Itwaslike aknifepiercingmyheart.”Aschildrenoftworesidentialschoolsurvivors,weareacutelyawareofthe strugglesourparentswentthroughandthatinmany respects,theirsilencewasinfactresilience.Weare fortunatethattheirresiliencepropelledthemtodo morethanjustsurvive,astheybecamerespectedleaders ineducationandsharedtheirknowledgeof Secwépemccultureandlanguagewithothers.
Theprimaryimportanceofresistancewasto survivetheresidentialschool;thesecondarymissionwastoshedthenegativeinfluencesofthose
earlyhorrorsandabuses.Bothourparentslived theirlivesinduality;theywerehinderedearly inlifebyshamefulthoughtsof“beingIndian.” Attheschool,theywerestronglyencouragedto embracethesafetyofassimilationbymoving VANCOUVERING
From First-TimeListener byJenniferZilm.Published byGuernicaEditionsin2022.JenniferZilmistheauthor of WaitingRoom (Book*hugPress)and TheMissingField (GuernicaEditions).ShelivesintheGreaterSurreyArea, BC.Findheratjenniferzilm.com.
IfonlysomeonehadcataloguedtheWestEnd roomswelingeredinbeforewekneweachother. Thestudioapartmentsareobsolete,skyline amuseumofwindows,gloaming’spinkcontainer.
Thesummerephemeral,splatteredwithrainsplaining. Thinkaboutit.Thresholdseasonsnamethemselves withverbs.Eachyear,springslightlyearlier, renovictingwinter. Cleanlines,thedesignerssay. LoveorList,butIwanttocounttheways
neighbourhoodschangetheirnames fasterthanyoudo. NewEastCrackton became Railtown beforeIrealized we’dstoppedsnortingcoke.Isometimes doubtthattheclutteredstanzasweinhabited everexisted.Itwaseasytoforget
topayfortheSkyTrainwithnoticket -taker,butnowwefindnewways tothwarttheturnstiles.Armslinked, wepayonefaresowecanridetogether. Busingtheroaddeepeast,downCordova;
yesterdayastrangerbesidemecompleting herdialecticalbehaviourtherapyhomework, todayaboyinallblackreading TheSecretAgent, thechapterheading“EastMeetsWest”—buthegotoff beforeMainStreet.Yousaythecityisbest
seeninalleys.Discardedbricks,rottingsoftwood, bubblegumfiberglass—yousalvagematerials tobuildaminiaturehouseasmemorial toalltheroomsthatmayneverhaveexisted intimebeforewekneweachother.
Findings25
awayfromtheiroldways.Inmanyrespects,they weretheposterchildrenofassimilation.Ourfather becameanaccomplishedteacher,counsellor,and communityleader.Andourmother’sdreamof havingallnineofherchildrengraduatehighschool wasmorethanfulfilledwheneightoutofthenine wentontocompleteuniversitydegrees.Aschildren,weallunderstoodthe“role”weweretoplay insocietyandthatsacrificeshadbeenmadebyour parents’generationtomakeourwayeasier.Unfortunately,thechildrenofthesurvivorsofIndianresidentialschoolsalsohadtoovercomeshame, violence,andnegativityintheirownstrugglesof resistanceandrenewal.
Althoughwehaveeachtakendifferentpaths— oneasSpecialAdvisortothePresidentonIndigenousMattersatThompsonRiversUniversity,the otherasaprofessorteachingtheSecwépemclanguage—webothhavewitnessedthepowerof resistanceandhaveexperiencedthehealingof renewal.Someinourfamilyhavefoundapath throughtheircareersandthroughgivingbackto others,somethroughfindingtheiridentitiesas Secwépemcthroughlanguage,songs,stories,and traditions.Ourparentsonceagainhelpedleadthe waybydevotingtheirretirementyearstoteaching thelanguage,stories,andteachingstohundredsof childrenattendingChiefAtahmSchool,a Secwépemcimmersionschoolstartedin1991. ThroughtheirroleasElders,wewerefinallyable toseeallsidesofthem.Theirtalentsasstorytellers,singers,historians,andteacherswereno longerhidden.Withoutadoubt,renewalofour
TheDayIGaveMy Candelabratothe
People
RIVERHALEN
From DreamRooms byRiverHalen.Published byBook*hugPressin2022.RiverHalen’swork hasbeenpublishedinCanada,theUnitedStates, AustraliaandJapan.Theirfirstbook,Match (Coach HouseBooks),wasshortlistedfortheTrilliumBook AwardforPoetry.TheyliveinTiohtià:ke(Montréal). Findthematriverhalen.net.
Secwépemclanguage,ourconnectionstoourland, andtoeachotherarethekeystosurvival.
Ontheanniversaryof ResistanceandRenewal, whichchronicledtheexperiencesofthirteenKIRS survivors,we,aschildrenofsurvivors,wouldliketo attestthatresistanceisacontinuousprocessand thatrenewalisnotonlypossible,butimperative. Thebookforeshadowedthetragedyofthe unmarkedgraves,whichexposeddecadesofabuses. Itiswithinsuchtragediesthatweneedtofindour strengthtomoveforwardasawayofhonouring theinnocentliveslost.
PaulF.Michel belongstotheSecwépemcNation andistraditionallyfromCstélen(AdamsLakeFirst Nation).PaulishonouredtobeworkingasSpecial AdvisortothePresidentonIndigenousMattersat ThompsonRiversUniversity,andherecognizesthat thiswonderfuluniversityissituatedinthetraditionalterritoryofTk’emlúps.Paulhasbroad-based Indigenousexperienceintheareasofadministration,studentsupportservices,universityinstruction, Indigenousresearch,andgovernance.
Dr.KathrynA.Michel writes,“IamaSecwépemc woman.Iweavemyidentityaroundmyland,my Nation,andmyfamily.Myjourneyhasledmetolive mylifeworkingtohelprevitalizetheSecwépemclanguagethroughimmersioneducation.”Dr.MichelcurrentlyteachestheSecwépemclanguagetobabiesin theChiefAtahmSchoollanguagenestandtoadults intheStselxmémsrSecwépemcInstitute.
WhenIwasfourteen,myfriend,whowasfifteen, lostherearringinshagcarpet.Wesearchedon handsandkneesuntilourfacescameclose.Ihad animpulse,unpremeditated,tolungeforwardand putmylipsonhers,whichIalmostdid.ItwasterrifyinghowcloseIcametoriskingeverything.The shagcarpetwasgreenandendless.Irememberthe wayitfeltbetweenmypanickedfingers.Myfriend waslookingforherearring,whichsheneverfound. Iwaslookingforapretext,whichfoundmefirst andthenIranfromit.Westayedinthatlandscape foryears.ThefirsttimeIkissedawomanIwas eighteenanddeniedanysexualintent—wewere justbeing“friendly.”Threemonthslater,whenshe saidshehadfeelingsformeItoldherIlovedher toobutwasn’tqueer.SheknewIwaslying.I
26Geist122Winter2022
��
believedinmyliesofullyIwasinnocent.Westayed inthisstrangesortofimpasse,kissingdrunkenly upagainstwallswhenwegotthechance.Thefirst timeIkissedawomanwithintentIwastwentytwoanddrunkonabottleofhomemadefruitwine withoutrageousalcoholcontentmydadhadgiven meshortlyaftermygrandmother’sfuneral.Inmy grandmother’shometherewasgreenshagcarpeting too,walltowall,concealingwhoknowshowmany lostobjects.ThefirstwomanIkissedwithintent hadahard-to-findclit,orIwasjustthatinexperienced.Irememberhavingtoreachforitunder theshelfofherpubicbone,somuchlowerthan I’dthought,hiddenunderhair.Iamnotgoingto sayitwaslikeapearl.Iamnotgoingtosayit belongedonmyhighschoolfriend’sear.Therewas thissenseofthelandscapeending.
Idatedgaymentoo.Theirfriendsdidn’tlike me—therewasthisjokethatIwasworkingfor theChristianright.Idatedseveralpeoplewho havesincecomeoutastrans.WhenIthinkback ontimesIdatedgaymenorstraightwomenI wonderifitwasmeorthemwhobrokethe promiseonthelabel.ThedayIgavemycandelabratothepeoplewasunremarkableexceptfor thefactthatIhadrealizedIcould.Itookitto thethriftstoreaten-minutewalkdowntheroad, alongwithsomeshirtsIdidn’tlikeanymoreand someMasonjarsIwasn’tusingandacontainer oflampoilIhadboughtbackwhenIthoughtthe solutiontomypainedemotionsaboutmydad’s prettyoillampwastokeeplightingit.(Ihad alreadygivenawaytheoillamp.)Thepeoplehad donenothingtodeservethecandelabra,which wassimultaneouslyapricelesshistoricalartifact, evidence,aheavyburden,andadecorationin medium-questionabletaste(thegrapes!)likelyto fetchamaximumoffourtofivedollars,theafteroverheadfractionofwhichwouldbedonatedto ashelterforwomenexperiencingviolence.(How theshelterdefined“women”and“violence”was somethingIdidnotknow,andIhopedthatif theywerethekindofplacethatwouldtell peopletheirbodiesorexperiencesdidn’tregister,mycandelabrawouldhauntthemfromfiscal yeartofiscalyearuntiltheyunderstoodsomething.)Ihaddonenothingtodeservemycandelabraeither.Ileftitinawhiteboxwithalidat theentranceofthethriftstoreandwenthome andeventuallymadesomedinner.WhileI cooked,Ifantasizedaboutcallingtheshelterto discussthecaseofsomeonelikemeintheevent ofasuddenlossofsafety.Inthefantasy,Iwas
extremelyconvincing—theyagreedtodropthe word“women”fromtheirnameandputtrans peopleinpositionsofleadership,andwhenthe violencebrokeoutImovedinalongwithall kindsofgender-marginalizedpeopleandnoneof usweregenderedfromtheoutsideanylonger. Mycandelabrasoldforamilliondollarsatauction,andweboughtnicefurnitureforourhouse.
Population:MoreorLess
JustinMcElroy,aCBCjournalistandwell-knownrankerofstuff,and agroupoffriends(AndrewBates,GeraldDeo,SteveMasuch,Laura RodgersandHansSeidemann)rankedmorethan186welcomesigns fromaroundBritishColumbiaonTwitterinApril2022.Theyscored eachcommunity’ssignoutoften.Uptosixpointswereawardedfor charm,whichwasjudgedbasedonthesign’semploymentofinteresting designandmaterials,relevancetothetown’sculture,inclusionofaunique andauthenticmottoandsenseofwhimsyorplayfulness.Theremaining fourpointswereawardedforpracticality,whichwasjudgedbasedon whetherthesignclearlycommunicatesthatyou’reenteringthetown, highvisibilityofthesignandemphasisonthetown’sname.
45.WARFIELD
• greatnewspapercomicspageenergyhere
• theshinyorbinthemiddle(pleasedonotcorrectme)iswonderful
• imagine90%ofthekootenayswoulddisagreewiththeclaimbut that’sokay!youliveyourbestlifewarfield!
Findings27
�� PhotobyAndyBremner2012,WelcometoWarfieldsign,2019,WikimediaCommons.
6.CHETWYND
• heckyesthesebears
• they’resogoodandthebiglogissobig
• chetwynd’swholedealischainsawcarvingssothisworks(thoughunderexplained)
• you’reallowedcursiveonthesignwhenthewordistwoletterslong
4.TAHSIS
• ifyou’renotchucklingatthisentiresign’sentire dealthenwecan’tbefriends
• notonlyfunnybutauniquedesigndonereally well—andthatsawmillblade!
• moreofafunjokethansomethingthatletspeople knowwheretheyareandwhatit’sabout
1.QUESNEL
• themottoisaccurateandfun
• andthemottoinformsthesign
• andthesignislargeanduncluttered
• andhasniceflourishesaroundit
Andtherefore,itisthebestwelcomesigninBritishColumbia.
28Geist122Winter2022
Photos:Maclean25,WelcometoChetwyndsign,2005,WikimediaCommons;HugoChisholm,WelcometotheVillage ofTahsissign,2007,WikimediaCommons;BenoitBrummer,TheQuesnelGoldPan,2018,WikimediaCommons.
30Geist122Winter2022
Comic31 Comic31v
MyDad’sBrother
(OrWhatDoesDrowningLookLike)
EMILYCHOU
32Geist122Winter2022 32Geist121Summer2022 COMIC
Comic33
34Geist122Winter2022 34Geist119Winter2021
Comic35
36Geist122Winter2022 36Geist121Summer2022
Comic37
Ifyouorsomeoneyouknowisthinkingaboutsuicide,callTalkSuicideCanadaat1-833-456-4566.Supportisavailable24 hoursaday,7daysaweek.ForresidentsofQuebec,call1-866-277-3553orvisitsuicide.ca/en.
38Geist122Winter2022
38Geist122Winter2022
FuturePerfect
Newbylawsforcivicspaces
FuturePerfectemergedwhentwointerdisciplinaryartistteams, Mia+EricfromCalgary,AB,andActionHerofromBristol, UK,becameinterestedintheintersectionofcivicbureaucracy andeverydaylife.Theywerefascinatedbytheprohibitivelanguageofcitybylaws,andtheopportunitiesthatmightlieinshiftingthatlanguagetocreatenewmeaning.
Thetwoteamsphysicallycutupandrearrangedbylaws fromCalgary,Toronto,Gateshead(England)andPaisley (Scotland).Membersofthepublicwereinvitedtowitness, andthosecloselyinvolvedwithcitypolicy—urbanplanners,activists,cityofficials—wereaskedtoparticipate alongsidetheartists.Followingtheworkshops,aselection ofthesenewbylawswasfeaturedonbillboardsinthecities wheretheprojecttookplace.Whilebillboardshavehistoricallybeenusedasmarketingtoolsthatlureconsumersto projectthemselvesintoaparticularfuture—oneinwhich theydriveanicecarorsmelllikesandalwood—Mia+Eric andActionHerowantedtousethebillboardstoinvitecitizensnottoconsume,buttoproduceafuturecity;tosee howthelanguageoftheirowncity’spoliciescouldbe
Bentway,Toronto2022
transformedandtoimagineacollectivefuture,rather thananindividualone.
Describedasa“dada-meets-municipal-governance projectthatrecyclesthedryandofficiouslanguageof civicbureaucracytore-construct,re-engineerand rehearsepossiblefutures,”FuturePerfect,accordingto theartists,isa“hopeful,positiveactofreconfiguration.” Foraworldthatseemstobeintransition,itoffersan opportunitytolookatthefoundationsthathavebeen builtandusethemtoimaginepossibilitiesforwhereto gonext.Findoutmoreorcreateyourownbylawsat futureperfectbyelaws.com.
—TanviBhatia
ThecollaborationbetweenActionHero(Bristol,UK)andMia+ Eric(Calgary,AB)wasformedaftertheduoswereintroduced duringanartistdouble-dateinCalgary,andeachrealizedthey’d mettheirartistdoppelgangers.Theydecidedtoworktogetheras anartisticsupergroupandcreateaprojectforpublicspace.Find thematactionhero.org.ukandmiaanderic.ca.
Rules&Regulations39 RULES®ULATIONS
40Geist122Winter2022
WorkshopCanoeLandingAtrium,Toronto2022
Re-writingbylaws,Toronto2022
Rules&Regulations41 Completedpage,TorontoMunicipalCode,Chapter743,StreetsandSidewalks,Useof,2022
42 Geist122Winter2022
FortYorkBoulevard,Toronto2022
Chinatown,Calgary2020
Rules&Regulations43 FortYorkBoulevard,Toronto2022
Things ThatScatter
Halfabreathisallittakes,inorout
CHARLESBROWN
SHORTSTORY
Apartywhenagunshowsup,orpolice,samething.
Pelletsfromashotgunshell.Theyincreasethelikelihoodofhittingatarget,spread morethefurtherfromtheguntheyget,adesperateacteffectiveuptoapoint. I’venevershotone,neverevenheldone,butIdidhaveonepulledonmeonce, atmyownhouseafewyearsintocollege.Mywhiteroommate.Itwaslateatnight, andIwaslockedout.Hewasn’tansweringhisphone.Itookthesparekeyfrom underthematintheback,andwhenIopenedthedoortherewasashotguninmy face.Welaughedaboutitoverabeernottenminuteslater.Ididn’tknowhehad theshotgun.Hetoldmeheuseditforpigeons.Slewoverahundredofthemin oneday. Weshouldgosometime,hesaid.Inoddedandsankalittlefurtherintothe couch,myheartstillfluttering.
Glasswhenit’sdroppedhardenough,thrown.Iwasnine.Everyshardonthefloor wasareminderofwhatI’djustdone,apromiseofwhatwastocome.Itwasmy whitegrandma’sglass.Shewasn’tpoor,butIhadn’trealizedthatyet.Isteppedon oneoftheshardsonpurpose,soshewouldn’tbeasangrywithme.Itmusthave cutanerve,becauseIdidn’tfeelitatfirstjustsawthebloodslowlystarttopool. Thepaincamelater.IcanstillfeelatingleifIthinkaboutitnow,whenIpicked myfootupandlookedatit,thewaymyheelseparatedintotwochunks.Iwentto theER.Fourteenstitches,anditworked.Grandmawasn’tangrywithme.Iwonder whatitfeelsliketonotstepontheglassafteryou’vebrokenit,totossasideyour nerveswithouteverhavingtocutthem.Andwhatcomeslaterifnotpain.
Abrainwithtoomuchtodo.
Abrainafterabullet’spassedthroughit.
Carcassesinthemiddleofaclearing,afterthecrowshavegottentothem.And thecrows.Theclearingisn’trequired,butithelps.There’ssomethingrevelatory aboutit.That’swhatIrememberfeelingfirst—thatcouldbeme.Igotcloseenough toseethatitwasaturkey.TherewasmuchlessbloodthanIexpected,butthefeatherswereeverywhere.Andthebones.Therewasstillmeatonthem.Andthenit hitmethatImighthavescaredsomethingbiggerthancrowsaway.AndthenI wasrunning.FastasIcouldthroughafieldinNewMexico,notthirteenyears old. That’slife,momsaidwhenItoldher.Andshewasright,then.WhenIwent backthenextday,thecarcasswasgone.Theskullwasallthatremained,picked clean.Iplayedwithit,andwhenIwasdoneIthrewitagainstatreetoseeifit’d break.Onlynow,afterseeingthecountlesschalkoutlinesofBlackpeoplemurdered onthenews,canIlookbackonthemeadow,ontheturkeyskullflyingwhitethrough theair,andseethestain.
Thesoulasdropletsafterasneeze.Blessyou.
Abodygonetoash.Ithrewmymomtothewindtooearly.That’swhateveryone says.It’showshewantedtobespread.Shehadthatmuchtime,atleast.Thetime todecide.Shewasn’tevenfifty.Weclimbedasmallmountainbehindtheproperty GrandmaownedinArizona,gottotheverytop,andthrewheroff.Shewaspacked sotightlyintheurnshestucktoit.Bythetimewefinishedspreadingherashes,
ShortStory45 Image:EpidemicbyMartineFrossard,2012,ink
thewholefamilyhadherunderournails.Ididn’tnoticeuntilmysisterpointed itout.Iwastoobusywatchingherdrawpatternsinthewind.Iwastoobusypretendingshedidn’twanttoleaveus,thatshewassomehowrightthere.
Asmallpileofleavesafteragustofwindhasmovedthroughthem.
Dandelions.Afriend,AJfrommyflagfootballteam,gavemeoneafteragame, brokeitsstemandhandedittome.Wewereten.Halfabreathisallittakes,in orout.Isenttheseedsflying.Someofthemlandedinhishair,andwelaughed. Hepulledadandelionandblewitbackatme.Adandelionwar.Thatwasthelast timeIsawAJ,endoftheseason.Hisdadpickedhimup,andastheyleft,hisdad askedifIwasBlack.Yes,Isaid.Hegavemeanod,andIsatblowingdandelions untilmyowndadcame,watchingwhatfelttomelikethousandsoftheirseeds hoverandtwirlandfadeintonothingness.IgavemydadthesamenodAJ’sdad hadgivenme.Mydad’sgummysmilebackwasallIneeded.Heknew.Afewweeks later,hewasarrestedandjailedforthethirdtime.Ididn’tseehimveryoftenafter that.Thepappusofadandelionallowsairtoflowupthroughit,createsabubble oflowairpressurecalledavortexring.It’sanefficientflight,fullofpurpose,but tomethen,theywerejusthelplesslittlewhiteseeds,thepartofmethatIcould neverbe,blowingawayinthewind.
Lawngnatsasyourunthroughafieldofgrass.
Mesquitebeanswhentheyfall.
Lovers.Forsomanydifferentreasons.Thereasons,whenyoulookatthem.We wereinourtwenties.Thetimingwasn’tright.Iwasinarelationship,andifIwas goingtoleaveoneloverforanother,ithadbetterbeforawomanofcolour,Itold myself.I’dlearnedbetter.Wemetatasoccerfieldlateonenight.Smokedinthe bleachersandhardlysaidawordtooneanother.ItoldherIwasgoingtobreak intoacar.Shecamewith,didn’ttellmethecarIchosewashers.Ismashedthe window.Shecouldn’tstoplaughing.WhenIleftwebrushedfingertips.Iapologized forthenexttwoyearswhileshewasinmyorbit,everytimeIsawher.Shenever askedmetostop,andshealwayssaiditwasokay.Iwaslyingtomyself.IfIwas goingtoleaveforanyoneitwouldhavebeenher.Formanymorereasonsbesides, butalways,atleastinpart,becauseshewaswhite.
WaterdropletsonamirrorafterIrunmythumbacrossthebristlesofatoothbrush, andmyfaceinsidethem.
Lightwhenitcollideswithanything,thoughwithvaryingintensity,sothateverything Iseeispartial.Alwaysrunning.Delicateenoughtobrushyourfingersthrougha beamofit.Delicateenoughtoburn.Itdoesn’thappenoften,megettingburned. Thesummeritdidforthefirsttime,Ispentweeksinthesun.I’dfinallylearned howwhitemyskincouldgetbystayingoutofit—notwhiteenough—andnowI wantedtoseehowdarkIcouldget.EverytimeIwentouttoplaythatsummer,I tookmyshirtoff.WhenmymomaskedifIwantedsunscreen,ItoldherIdidn’t burn, onlytanned.AndIdidn’t.UntilIdid.Spentthelastweekofmysixteenth summerbarelymoving,mymomapplyingaloeveraharvestedfromtheplantin
46Geist122Winter2022
ouryardtomyupperbodydaily.Ittookalottoburnthough,andthatfeltgood. IendedthatsummerdarkerthanI’deverbeen.Thealoesurvivedallthatuse,too. Hardythings.
Clothes.MomtoldmetoputthemawaysoIthrewthemallovertheroom.Itwas herthirdtimetellingmeinasmanyminutes,andIwasfedup.Whitekidfrom downthestreetwasheadedover,yes,butweweregoingtoplayoutside.Ididn’t understandwhyIcouldn’tjustcleanthemuplater. Cleanhousewon’tchangethefact thatwe’repoor,Isaidbeforeslammingthedooronmywayoutwhilemomvacuumedthelivingroomcarpet.Exceptweweren’tpoor.WehadGrandma.When Igotbacklatethatnight,myclotheswerehungup.Momneversaidanythingabout it,butmyfirstjobafewmonthslaterwasinretail,andeveryjobafterthatfora while,andsometimesIwonderifIwastryingtomakeupforthatday.Somepart ofmegrewtounderstandwhatmymomwasdoing.Andthatifshehadtodoit asawhitewoman,it’dbeevenmoreimportantforme.Ikeptmyclosetroy-g-biv’d afterthatanditstayedfullofthepopularbrands,SeanJohnandEckoUnltd,my Jordansdownbelow.ButIwasstillakid.Momneverstoppedaskingmetoclean myroomwhencompanywascomingby.Ineverstoppedsayingno.
Electronsifamagneticfieldispresent.
Memory.
Myideaofapersonacrosstime.Thekidwholeftahandprintintheconcreteblock ofmyoldhouse.Anamescratchedintotheundersideofatable.Anoteinthemargin ofabook.HowmanywaysIpicturedhim,thatkid.Ericwashisname.Firstwith dryhandsfromtheconcrete.Heappliedlotionfordaysafterward.Hewasamixed kid,becausethat’swhatIknew.Livedanormallife.Matteredtopeople.Idon’t knowwhy,buthewasasinger.HelikedUsherandSisqó.Wemighthavebeen friends.IwonderhowmanyotherlivesErichaslivedthataren’thisown.Inthe mindsofpeoplewhosawhishandprint,orpassedbyhiminthegrocerystore. AndIwonderifanyofthoseotherexistencesmatter.Ifhehadalistofthem,moments whereothersknewhim,howeverbriefly,wouldherecognizehimself?
Idon’tthinkIwould.IthinkIcanonlyknowmyselfthroughthewayinwhichI knowothers,nottheotherwayaround.Ispreadoutamongthem,endlessyou’s, insearchofmyself.Maybethat’sthepowerofscattering,nottherunningorthe coveringmoresurfaceareaorthesadness.It’sthescatteringitself.Orthemoment justbefore.Thepowerisinmyabilitytobenddown,ripaflowerfromitsstem andthrowthepetalsoutacrossastream.
CharlesBrownisawriterfromArizona.HereceivedhisMFAfromtheUniversityof BritishColumbiaandnowlivesinNorthwesternWashingtonwherehespendshisdays scheminghisreturntoVancouver.Hiswritinghasappearedorisforthcominginnumerous publications.FindhimonTwitter@youfoundcharles.
ShortStory47
InSearchofaPhrase STEPHENHENIGHAN
Phrasebooksaretoolsofculturalglobalization—buttheyarealsoamongitscasualties
Betweenthesecondandthefifteenthcenturies,Europeand Asiaweretiedtogether,viatheMiddleEast,byanetworkoftrading routesonlandandseaknownasthe SilkRoad.Thisnetworkofcommercialrelationshipsallowedcultural knowledgetotravelbackandforth acrossEurasia.Thetransferof knowledgegeneratednewcultural forms.Onequirky,thoughnot inconsequential,productoftheSilk Roadwasthephrasebook.Many travellerswrotedownwordsfrom thelanguagestheyencountered andarrangedthemintolistsforthe benefitoffuturetraders.Amanuscriptproducedinthetenthcentury appearstobeaphrasebookfor TibetanBuddhistmonkstravelling toChina;itlistswordsforfood,tools andweapons.ATibetan-Sanskritphrase bookfromthesameeracontainsuseful phrasessuchas Idonotlikemyprovisions.
RefinedduringthelateMiddle AgesandtheRenaissance,thephrase bookhaschangedlittleoverthecenturies.In1607,inthecityofPskovin northwestRussia,aGermannamed TönniesFonnewroteaGermanRussianphrasebookforthebenefit offellowtradersfromnorthernGermany’sHanseaticLeague.Ina2014
studyofFonne’sphrasebook,the DutchlinguistPepijnHendriks writes:“Thearrangementofthis seventeenth-centuryphrasebookis notverydifferentfromthatofmodern-dayphrasebooks:itpresentsthe userwithlonglistsofvocabulary, givesasmallgrammaticalcompendiumandcontainshandyphrases.”
Thisformulawillbefamiliarto anyonewhohaspickedupaphrase bookbeforegoingonvacation.I encounteredmyfirstphrasebook
whenIwasfifteenandmyparents wereplanningtorentahousein ruralItaly.Ihavelittlememoryof thebook;forme,thehighlight wastheaccompanyingcassette. Aftersupperwewouldplaythe cassetteandlistentoItalian phrasesandtheirEnglishtranslations.TheItalianwashigh,mellifluousanddifficulttocapture;it wastheEnglish,deliveredina firm,almostreprimandingBritish accent,thatstuckinourminds. Wewalkedaroundourapartment repeatingphraseslike Thereisno roomatthishotel or Youaregoing thewrongway.Noneofuslearned muchItalian.
Undeterredbythisunsuccessful firstexperience,I’vesincebecome acollectorofthesetinybooksthatare toosmalltostanduprightonmy bookshelves.ThereistheTurkish phrasebookwhosewordsIwasunable topronounceandtheGreekonethat wassuperfluousbecausealltheGreeks repliedinEnglish.ThereistheCantonesephrasebookthatmypartner wasgiveninHongKongbyafriend whowantedtomakethepointthatfor manyHongKongresidents,Mandarin isaforeignlanguageandonethatthey donotwelcome.Thefriend’sgesture
48Geist122Winter2022 AFTERLIFEOFCULTURE
Image: Editor’sConversationwithaStatesman byMorizJung,1907. OriginalfromtheMetropolitanMuseumofArt.Digitallyenhancedbyrawpixel.
wasareminderthatphrasebooksare alwayspolitical:theysituatetheuser, setboundariesforthetraveller’srelationshipswithlocalresidents,and definethecountryintermsofwhich regional,ethnicorclassvariantofits languageispresentedtovisitors.Inthe 1990s,whenIwaslivinginLondon andfollowingthedisintegrationof formerYugoslavia,Imaderegular visitstoGrantandCutler,abookshop famousforitsforeign-languagesection.Overthecourseofthewar,the Serbo-Croatianphrasebookwas dividedintoseparateSerbianand Croatianvolumes;afewmonthslater, aBosnianphrasebookappeared nestledalongsidethem,signallinga furtherculturalsplintering.Thevariationsinphrasingamongthesethree volumes—negligibletoanoutsider’s eyes—reflecteddesperateassertionsof identity.
ThephrasebookthatI’veputto thegreatestuse,andtheonethat showedmehowmuchinstructioncan beextractedfromthesesmallvolumes whencircumstancesdemandit,isthe HungarianphrasebookIboughtin early1989,whenItravelledaround Hungarybymyselfforamonth. Undercommunism,travellersfrom non-communistcountrieswere obligedtocheckinatthetouristoffice ofeachtowntheyvisited,beassigned aplacetospendthenightandobtaina visastampattestingthattheyhadslept ingovernment-approvedaccommodation.InBudapest,fewpeoplespoke Westernlanguages;outsidethecapital,almostnobodydid.AsItravelled througheasternHungary,Idepended entirelyonmyphrasebook.Istudied iteverynight.Ilearnedthenumbers fromonetoathousandtobuytrain ticketsandtellwaitersinsmall-town restaurantshowmuchofatiptoadd tomybill.Imemorizedeveryphrase relatedtotraintravelandstrainedto understandthetinny-soundingHungarianannouncementswhenchangingtrainsinremotestations.Bythe endofthemonth,Ihadavocabulary
ofthreehundredwords—yet,like eventhemostassiduousphrasebook users,Iknewlittlegrammar.
WiththeendoftheColdWar, phrasebooksmultiplied.Lonely Planetalonehasproducedover120 ofthem,manyfornon-officiallanguages.Ina2017study,thelinguist RichardW.HallettcriticizedLonely Planet’sphrasebooksforpresenting Englishasaneutralnormandexoticizingotherlanguages,particularly thoseoftheSouthPacific.Yetphrase booksarenotonlytoolsofcultural globalization;theyarealsoamongits potentialcasualties.Manyyoung Europeans,broughtuptospeakto peoplefromotherEuropeancountriesinEnglish,nolongerusethem. InRussiaafewyearsago,Iwatched Chinesetouristsorderfastfoodfrom Russianattendantsviacellphone translationapps.NorthAmerican touristsnowfindEnglish-speaking waitersandhotelreceptionistsin manycountries.Thisconvenience concealsaloss.FromtheSilkRoad onward,thecreationofphrasebooks waspoweredbycommercialinterest, illusionsofculturalsuperiority and curiosity.DidtheTibetanmonkwho learnedtheMandarinwordfor horses,theHanseatictraderwho pickedupafewphrasesofRussianor theAmericantouristwholearned howtoorderacappuccinoinItaly revelintheirnewknowledge?Every nowandthen,I’mconvinced,these apparentlydispensablevolumes openedthedoortorealmsofnew experience,freshwaysoflookingat theworld.Theeliminationofsuch possibilitiesforgrowthshouldgivea travellerpauseeachtimeaserverin anothercountryasksthemfortheir orderinEnglish.
StephenHenighan’smostrecentnovelis TheWorldofAfter.Readmoreofhis workatstephenhenighan.comandgeist.com. FollowhimonTwitter@StephenHenighan.
AfterlifeofCulture49
ROCKSINAHARDPLACE
Lastfall,myparentsandIdroveupto theThompsonregionofBC,between CacheCreekandKamloops,tospend sometimerockhounding,adormant hobbyofminereinvigoratedbytheneed tofindanewoutdoorpastimeduring thepandemic.Armedwithacopyof RickHudson’s AFieldGuidetoGold, Gemstone&MineralSitesofBritish Columbia,VolumeTwo:Siteswithin aDay’sDriveofVancouver (Harbour Publishing)andflushwithsuccessof thedayprevious,siftingquartznodules andeyeagatefromaslidenearKamloops,weturnedofftheTransCanada tolookforasitecontainingmossagate. Wesoonrealizedthepitfallsofbeing guidedbyabookfirstpublishedbefore themillennium,asBackValleyRoad hadbeenrepavedandthenumberof bridgesweweretoldtoanticipate(five; “parkatthefifthroadbridge”)hadsince beenreducedtojustone.Wesquinted betweenthemapinthebookandour GPS,andapproximatedwheretopull off.WefordedCacheCreekandclambereduptotheserviceroadonthe otherside,whichwasscrubbywith sagebrushandloudwithcrickets.As wewalked,wetriedtomatchthedirectionsinthebooktooursurroundings. Weturnedupthelikeliestvalley,passing aherdofloosecows,butcouldnotfind the“somewhathiddenrockslide”that wassupposedtohousetheagate.Nervousaboutbeingupthewrongvalley, weturnedback,happywiththeadventureevenifwedidn’thaveanyspoils toshowforit.I’vesinceusedHudson’s bookmanytimestoscopeoutthetypes ofrocksavailableintheareasI’mtrav-
ellingtoinsouthernBC(althoughnow alwayscross-referencedwithmore recentsources,including RoadsideGeologyofSouthernBritishColumbia byBill MathewsandJimMonger).Besides detailinghundredsofknownmineral locationsusingmaps,directions,GPS coordinatesandcommentsaboutthe volcanichistoryofthelocation,Hudsonprovidesessentialinformationon gettingstartedasarockhound,includingwhattowearandbring,land accessrights,safetytips,howtostake aclaim,rockhoundingethicsandan identificationguideontherocksyou mightfind.There’salso,charmingly, frommyperspectivein2022,astepby-stepguidetoaccessingmineral mapsontheinternet.Despitebeing out-of-dateonsomedetails—tobe expectedinabookdescribingthephysicalgeographyofwilderness—Icarry Hudson’sbookwithmeoneveryrockhuntingtrip.
—KelseaO’Connor
SITTINGDUCKS
Ducks:TwoYearsintheOilSands (Drawn&Quarterly)isanunsparing newgraphicmemoirfromKateBeaton, whosome Geist readersmayknowfrom Hark!AVagrant, theaward-winning webcomicwhichshowcasedBeaton’s delightfullyskewedsenseofhumour. Beaton’skeeneyefordetailisstillevidentin Ducks,butthereisalsoadefinitestepupinseriousness.Fortwo years,between2005and2008,Beaton wasoneofthethousandsofworkers whomigratedfromallcornersof Canada(andfurtherafield)totheoil sandsofnorthernAlberta,insearchof well-paidwork.Beaton,twenty-one yearsoldatthetime,hadtravelledfrom herhomeinMabou,onCapeBreton, hopingtoearnsufficientmoneytopay offherstudentloans.Theconditionsin theoilcampsaroundFortMcMurray wereextreme:bittercold,isolationand loneliness.AndforBeatontherewere alsothepersistent—andunwanted—attentionsofanoverwhelminglymale workforce,aconstantflowofsexistcommentsandinnuendothatfemaleworkers wereexpectedtolaughoff,orriskbeing labelled(andostracized)as“bitches” orworse.Theresultofthiswasagradualgrindingdownofthespirit,which Beatoncapturesperfectlyinhermemoir.LikeKateBraid’s Journeywoman (2012)beforeit, Ducks:TwoYearsinthe OilSands isanimportantadditionto thegrowingbodyofworkdocumentingtheuphillbattlesfacedbywomen whoaretryingtoestablishthemselves infieldsthathavelongbeendominatedbymen.
—MichaelHayward
50Geist122Winter2022
ENDNOTES REVIEWS,COMMENTS,CURIOSA
ATHOUGHTFUL POSSESSION
ThePenguinBookofJapaneseShort Stories (PenguinRandomHouse)isa newcompendiumeditedandtranslated byJayRubin,withanintroductionby HarukiMurakami,thataimstoguide itsreadersthroughseveralhundred yearsofJapaneseshortfictioninseveral hundredpages.Isthisa“greatesthits” collection?Notsomuch.Toquotefrom Rubin’seditorialnote,thereader“can beassuredthatalltheworkshavebeen chosenbecausetheeditorhasbeen unabletoforgetthem,insomecasesfor decades.”Whichisawonderfulrubric toscorefictionagainst.Thisisnot essentialreadingdictatedbyacollege syllabus;instead,itwasRubin’sintentiontocollectstorieswhichdrawthe readerintotheiremotionaldepthsand keepthemthere,heldsofirmlythatat timesitmightseemimpossibleto escape.Thesearestorieswrittenbypeoplewhohavelived,andnotinthepassivedefinitionoftheword:peoplewho haveknownlifeanditsjoys,knownits greatstretchesofboredom,itsviolent terrorsanditsmostsubtlemoments. Theseauthorshavetraversedthevast territoriesoflifeandhavereturnedto sharethatwhichmostpossessedtheir thoughts.Tothisendtheirworksucceedsadmirably,andthiscollectionwill haveitsreaderssimilarlypossessedas theybecomelostwithinitspages.
—JonathanHeggen
worldseemtohavebeenseveredsolong agothatvillagersfinditabsurdtothink thatthenotoriousprivateerHenry Morgan’slosttreasuremightbeburied somewherenearby.Eachtimetravellers seekingMorgan’sfabledtreasurecome tothevillage,theybringwiththem snippetsfromthemodernworldat large.WhatIloveaboutreadingthis kindofstoryisseeinghowmanynuggets ofhistoryIcanprospectfromthefablelikeprose.There’struthinthetale,but factsaswell,withthefactsbeingthe embellishment.There’salushnesstostorieslikeBonnefoy’sthatIwishNorth Americansweren’tsostandoffishtowards. IncontrasttoMárquez’ssprawlingnovels,Bonnefoyisabletoreininhisstory, exploringjustafewstrandsofthought. BlackSugar isarichbutshortread,and ifIwereaskedtosuggestanintroductiontotheworldofmagicrealism,this iscertainlyoneoftheoptionsthatI’d recommend. —AnsonChing
DREAMINGOFANDROIDS
FURTHERYEARS OFSOLITUDE
IpickedupMiguelBonnefoy’s Black Sugar (GallicBooks)—translatedfrom theFrenchbyEmilyBoyce—whenI visitedthenewbookstoreUpstart& CrowonGranvilleIslandinVancouver. Ifellintothestoryimmediately,feeling asifIhadjumpedbackintoGabrielGarciaMárquez’s OneHundredYearsofSolitude. BlackSugar isalsosetinaremote villageinatropicalrainforest,whereconnectionswiththecoastandtheoutside
IfoundacopyofPhilipK.Dick’s Do AndroidsDreamofElectricSheep? (BallantineBooks)onabenchoutside thelocalgrocerystore.Itwasabeat-up copy,withhighlightingthroughout. WheneverIcameacrossahighlighted line,Iwondered:DidIruinsomestudent’sdaywhenIpickeduptheirlost textbook?Didtheyeventuallyhaveto requestanextensionontheiressay? Knowingthatthisnovelisthebasisfor themovie BladeRunner,Ikepttrying tofigureout:“Whoiswho?”and“Why didtheychangethings?”Forexample: therearenosheepinthemovie,electric orotherwise.Inthenovel,mostofthe animalshavebecomeextinctfollowing thewarandthedust,andasaresult,live animalshavebecomevaluablestatus symbols.Thosewhocannotaffordlive animalskeepmechanicalones,pretendingthattheyarereal.TheVoightKampfftest,whichtestsforempathetic response,helpstodistinguishbetween androidsandhumans.Androidsarenot
Endnotes51
capableofempathy—butperhaps humansarelosingthisabilityaswell. Inonekeyscene,Pris,anandroid,cuts thelegsoffaspider,becauseshecan’t imaginewhyitwouldneedsomanyto walkaround.WhenIreadthisscene,I washorrified—eventhoughtheday before,I’dsquishedaspiderthatI’d foundinmycloset.Meanwhile,Rick Deckard,anandroidbountyhunterwho hasbeguntofeelempathyforhisvictims, doesn’tunderstandwhyJ.R.Isidore,the victimofaeugenicsprogram,hassetthe spiderfree.“Yououghttokeepitina jar,”DeckardtellsIsidore.“Youcould havegottenahundredandsomeodd dollarsforit.”Whichpromptsustoask: whichofthemisthemosthuman?Who hasthegreaterempathy?
—DebbyReis
TEENAGEDBOYS,CLOSEUP
Foraclose-uplookatteenagedboyculture,checkouttheCanadianfilm, SleepingGiant (directedbyAndrew CividinoandwrittenbyCividino,Blain WattersandAaronYeger).SleepingGiant followsthreeteenagedboysasthey hangaroundtogetherincottagecountry,ontheedgeofLakeSuperior.The boysbikeallovertheplace,shootgolf ballsintothelake,throweggsathouses, shopliftfromthecornerstoreandgenerallyhangoutontheedgeoftrouble. Adamisanonlychildwhoisstaying withhisparentsintheirroomy,modern cottageandNateandRileyarecousins who,duetosomesortofparentalproblems,arestayingwiththeirgrandmotherinhertinycottage.Theboys areallkneesandelbows,crookedteeth (exceptforAdam)andpermanenthat hair,andthey’reatthemercyoftheir hormonesandtheirbigmouths.Nate isabundleofrawemotions,whichhe expressesthroughaggressivelanguage andriskybehaviour,anditishewho canseethedisparitiesbetweenhislife andthatofthehappyfamiliesthat laughandcheerduringtheegg-andspoonracesatthecommunitysports
day.Rileyismoreeven-temperedand isinterestedinhowAdam’sfamily lives,butwantstoremainloyalto Nate,andAdamisanaivecityboywho watchesandthenmimicshisnew friends.Theboys’interactionsarea combinationofplayfulness,insults, semi-seriouswrestlinganddaringeach othertodostupidordangerousthings. Rightfromthestart,whenweseeNate aloneinAdam’scottage,wandering aroundandjustlookingatthings,we canfeelhowcloseheistodoingsomethingimpulsiveandpossiblydestructive,andthisfeelingstayswithusas weseetheboysmanipulateeachother throughliesandexaggerationuntil somethingreallybadhappensand everyone,includingtheaudience, wishestheydidn’thavetolearnthat lessonthehardway.Thethreeyoung actorsseemsonaturalthattheydon’t appeartobeactingatall,thedialogue isspareandconcise,theunderstated soundtrackismostlysoundsfrom natureandthesceneryisbreathtaking. Youcanwatchthisgreatmovieon Netflix. —PattyOsborne
FUTUREIMPERFECT
Oneofthebestepisodesinthethird seasonof TheCrown dramatizedthe 1966landslideintheWelshmining townofAberfan.Heavyrainhad causedamountainofcoalwasteto liquefy,washingdownaslopetooverwhelmpartofthetown.Aschoollay directlyinitspath;heartbreakingly,116 ofthe144fatalitieswereyoungchildren. TheCrown doesnotmentionit, butapparently,thedaybeforethedisaster,oneofthechildrenspokeofa dreamshehadhadinvolvingadark shadowoverwhelmingherschool.This andotherpremonitorystoriesattracted theattentionofJohnBarker,apsychiatristwithaprofessionalinterestinthe paranormal.Whenhemadeapublic appealforsimilarstories,seventy-six peopleresponded.Thisledtothecreationofthepremonitionsbureauatthe
52Geist122Winter2022
EveningStandard newspaperinLondon.Peoplewereurgedtocontactthe paperwiththeirstoriesofdeathsforetold,planecrashespredicted,storms anticipatedandsoon.Theideawasto establishawarningsystem—asortof DEWLineforcatastrophes—thatwould allowgovernmenttorespondtodisastersbeforetheyhappened. ThePremonitionsBureau (PenguinRandom House)bySamKnight,astaffwriter atthe the NewYorker,isthestrange storyofwhatBarkerandhisjournalist colleague,PeterFairley,discovered. Theshortanswer:notmuch.Barker believedthattheabilitytoforetellthe futurewaspresentinasignificantproportionofhumans,likeleft-handedness. Butinpractice,sortingoutthecranks fromthegifted(andthereweresome) turnedouttobemoredifficultthan anticipatedandthebureaufadedaway withoutsuccess.Knightisawonderful writer.Hissentencesareclear,vivid, charming,sometimesquirkyinagood way.Itisasubjectthatcouldeasilybe madefunof,buthepresentsitseriously, thoughneverponderously.Thebook raisesmanyquestions:Whatisthedifferencebetweenpremonitionand coincidence?Howcanthefuturebe foretoldifithasn’thappenedyet?In whatsensedoesthefutureevenexist? And,asyoumightexpect,itmanages toanswernoneofthem.
—DanielFrancis
WHATITMEANS TOBEHUMAN
In2018, Geist publishedapoemtitled “Grief”byGeoffInverarity,andan unusualthinghappened.Readers shareditwithpeopletheyknewwho weregrieving.“Grief’sabastard/turns upnonoticeonthedoorstepwhenever /movesindoesn’tshowerdoesn’t shave/won’tdodishes/dirtylaundry /eatsbadlyspendshoursinthebathroom/keepsyouawakehalfthe night.” Geist alsosharedanotherpoem, “MyMother’sHaunting,”fromthe
samecollection.Inthepoem,the speakercomeshomeafterhismother’s deathtofindthatshehaslabelledeverything:thesparebedding(datedwhen lastwashed),foodinthefreezer,knittedsquaresmadefromleftoverwool (nowsewnasblanketstobedonated). “Wehavereachedthepointwhereall thereislefttodoisfindonebagbig enoughtocoverthewholehouseand alltherestofusinitandwriteouta labelthatsays‘Thisismyhouse,these aremychildren,andthisismyhusband.Iwillneverleave.’”Hismother hadsurvivedWWIIandwasreadyfor whateverwascomingnext.Andthe thingsdocomeinInverarity’s Allthe BrokenThings (Anvil):flyingsaucers, Godzilla,Elvisandtwoair-headedradio hostsofferingusatrafficreportduring theendofitall.(Willwehavetraffic reportsattheend?Apparently,yes.) Andthenthere’sthepoemaboutadog whocan’tquitefigureoutwhothegood boyreallyis. AlltheBrokenThings was shortlistedforthe2022FredKerner BookAward.Hereisanexcerptfrom whatthejudgeshadtosay: “AlltheBrokenThings isanoriginalandsublimely startlingruminationonwhatitmeans tobehumaninallitsheartbreaking andcomplicatedbeauty,inyearsgone by,nowandbeyond.”
—PeggyThompson
Endnotes53
WANDAX3
IfinallygotaroundtowatchingBarbara Loden’s1970film Wanda (Criterion), afilmI’dbeenhearingaboutforages. Madeatatimewheretherewerefew activewomendirectors,andfewerstill whocouldfindfundingforafeaturelengthindependentfilm,Lodenwrote thescreenplayfor,actedin,and directedathoroughlyabsorbingfilm inwhichthecentralfigureisacomplicatedwomanwhoisnotjustthefoil foraleadingman.NathalieLéger’s SuiteforBarbaraLoden isabooklengthmeditationonLoden,herfilm andthethemeswhichthreadthrough it. Suite istranslatedfromtheFrench byNatashaLehrerandCécileMenon, andpublishedbytheDorothyProject, afeministsmallpressbasedinSt.Louis, Missouri,namedfor“itseditor’sgreatauntDorothyTraver,alibrarian,rose gardener,animallover,children’sbook authorandbookmobiledriver.”Inthe book,welearnthatLodensawherself inWandaGoronski,herfilm’scentral
character,andthatthescreenplaywas basedonthenewspaperaccountofa womanwho,convictedofbeingan accomplicetobankrobbery,thanked thejudgeforhertwenty-yearsentence. “Whatpain,whathopelessnesscould makeapersondesiretobeputaway? Howcouldimprisonmentberelief?” ThethirdofourWandasis Wanda,a novellabythelateBarbaraLambert, setinBC’sOkanaganatthestartof WWII,andpublishedbyFishGotta SwimEditions.Lambert’sWandaisa brashseven-year-oldrefugeefromthe LondonBlitz,whoarrivesintheOkanaganValley“likesomething[theyoung narrator]Evamighthaveimagined, conjuringafriendoutofloneliness.” Thetwoyounggirlsgettoknoweach otherastheywander,smallobservers ofacommunitytryingtoadjustto“a timewhensuspicionisrifeandCanadiansofvariedoriginsaresubjectedto thesteepingprejudicesofasmallInteriortown.” Wanda isproofthatyou don’tneedsixhundredpagestotella
goodstory:sometimesaslimnovella istheperfectlength.
—MichaelHayward
PRAYERANDDECLARATION
ManahilBandukwala’sdebutpoetrybook, Monument (BrickBooks),beginswith Arjumand,thePersiannoblewomanlater knownasMumtazMahal,Empressto theEmperorShahJahan.Mumtaz Mahal’sfamoustomb,theTajMahal,is neitherthesubjectnorsettingofthese poems,butashadowypresencethat waxesandwanesthroughout. Monument undertakesonehellofachallenge:turningthemonumentalintothemomentary.Yet,Bandukwalaachievesitwitha lyricalprecisionthatmakesusforget linearhistoryandenteraworldwhere memoryofthefutureispossible.Inher poem,“Before,itwaslove,”thepoet sketchesadecolonialportraitoflove: “Ifloveisanempire,reelconquestback in.”Thepoembraidssixteenth-century Indiawithpresentdayandconfrontsus withthecontinuityofurgentconversations:“Sowhywait;givethelandback, now.”Ittakesabadasspoettocollapse timethewayBandukwaladoes,andher poem“Restart,AfterAnimalCrossing” isatestamenttothis.Here,shethreads thefutilityofplayingaSimulationManagementvideogameduringthepandemicwiththebuildingoftheTaj Mahal,inawaythatjustmakessense. TheaccompanyingdrawingsbyNatalie Olsendetailanupside-downTajMahal thatslowlycrumblesthroughoutthe book.Bandukwala’swordscutthrough stonetofree“MumtazMahal”fromthe monumentalandreturnhertoherself, asArjumand.Pagesmakeforabetter homethanatomb,andwithinthem Arjumandisgiventhegraceofpersonal intimacy:“Forafewbriefdays/there wasnoemperor,/noconsort—/only twopeopleinloveunderamonsoon.” Thisbookismuchmorethanacollection ofpoems—itisaradicalreimagining ofbiography,loveletters,prayerand declaration. —AprilThompson
54Geist122Winter2022
54Geist122Winter2022
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Endnotes55
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ACROSS
1After10years,he’sbecomeoneofthe effete
6Thatmansionseemstohaveitsownsovereignpersona,doesn’tit?
9That’sodd,IthinkthatRomanprincess mighthavebeenridiculous
11It’sabouttimeyourwifechangedher address!(abbrev)
12Ted,ragmenarealwayswearingmismatchedclothes
15Inthebeginning,hergreetingcame fromaplaceofpainandturmoil
18Let’steartheplaceupnowthatshe’sin thedeepestsleep
19InEgypttheking’sdisapprovalwasaudible
20Imaginetheplacewhereartdied
23Whyistheblacksheepalwaysthenoisy one?
25HeyLiz,whilewewalkwouldyoulike acigornot?
26Asusual,wegotmixedupinalotoffiestas inthatislandstate
27WhenWernerputourmindstoit,he couldgetcontrol,especiallyinOntario (abbrev)
28Idon’tthinkyoucanwatchthesleepy drugdealeronAcorn
30Itwouldn’tbeforeverandwithyour hang-ups,youcouldn’tbesentaway (abbrev)
32Sheseemstobecommittedtoswearwords
34Yousoooodeservesomehelp,somind thegap!
35Timlikestheelaborateversionbutdown souththeKinglikesthestreamlinedone
36Whenamajesticpluralsoundslikehighclass urine(2)
38Shortbutoutdatedcommunicationsystem(abbrev)
41Messupthebedlinen,Doris,andputon thekettle.TheNewEnglandersare comingforsupper!(2)
45Rememberwheretheyresistedplayinggolf andthenblockedaccesstothesuburbs?
46Thatlousysuckerlovesmycannabis
47Theshortwintergreengirllovedtherain, butnotinwinter
48Chuck’sgangfindsall30ofthegrounds fairlyloamy(2)
DOWN
1InToronto,thebankclosedonthefirst daytocelebrateourcommonwealth
2AccordingtoJune,Johnwasalwayscrowingabouthiscurrentassets
3Montyalwaysmadeoneatthecardgame
4ThewomanwholivesnexttoWestmount isdivine!(abbrev)
5Lilibet’sraitawasfamousbuthermillinery garnisheswerecontroversial
6ThatpuffedupfellowplaysgreatSumo Pop,doesn’the?
7Sheletmeborrowhercarformorethan amonthlastspring
8Hisonlyfriendleftthedoorsopenwhen shedied
10MydentistpractisesherFrenchverbsevery day
13Whenatthebaths,don’teaticecream
14We’restillwaitingforAC—noideawhen itwillgethere(abbrev)
16Don’talteryourself
17Letthatstavefallbehind
21MaywestillcelebrateVickylongafter her2-4win?(2)
22Upheretheeasternoceanisanagreeable bodyofwater(abbrev)
24Thosehoity-toityfolksoftendisplaybad judgementorascarcityofbrains
25HowdidthatOntarioconmanmanage togetaninvitetoastreetpartyinManchester?
29Let’sjustdecidetogoout
31InVancouveryougetyourownroom! (abbrev)
33Thosespeciallycamouflagedclothsfrom ScotlandaretoogoodforHarris
35Theyhadabadrunofluckwhenthey livedinthedurbs.
37Whenyouaddaletotheupperclass,they cangetquitemusical
39Thatminstrelshowperformerhadhis ownclub,andthat’snobull!
40DidEdwardandNormanalsohavedaughterswhodrovethemnuts?
42Don’tbebitterjustbecauseyoucan’tdo thefruityhop!(abbrev)
43WhenweCanucksgothreemilesdown, thingscangetsticky(abbrev)
44CanyoufigureouthowtotrackCanadian moneyinQuebec?(abbrev)
56Geist122Winter2022
SolutiontoPuzzle121