Canadians have an odd relationship to the U.S. We define ourselves against them, first of all. Many of us in urban centres find guns appalling, our history is closer to compromise than conflict, possibly born out of the need to accommodate both French and English, and the same need has introduced a greater love -- at least in theory -- of diversity, and a recognition diversity is a strength, not a weakness. There is a distinct Canadian identity that Canadians understand goes beyond the superficial similarities. Puzzling then, that we consume so much American culture the amount of Canadian culture consumed is like a vitamin after a meal. Puzzling then, that many travelling Canadians prefer Las Vegas or Florida to the beauty of Vancouver Island, or the charm of St. John's. Puzzling then, that even as we shake our heads over Bush, we elect Harper, who similarly ignores the most pressing environmental concern in history. Puzzling that despite all our land and resources we don't think we can deal with the U.S. except through the Free Trade Agreement, which allowed UPS to sue Canada Post for interfering with business. Fasten your seat belts Canadians, we've hooked our sled to another one, and don't know where we're going.
It's at this auspicious time Pooka Press in Vancouver gives us U.S. Sonnets, from former Canadian poet laureate George Bowering. Set up as a series of snapshots, each poem begins with a number (as though a roll of film) and a title a couple of words long that's also the first few words of the poem:
3. We see
We see the police officer from a rear
Three-quarter view. He is hatless, in police
pants and short-sleeved shirt, emblem on
his sleeve, dark glasses on his face, an
automatic pistol in both hands. His slacks
drape nicely over his leather police shoes.
His automatic pistol is pointed at a young man
in baggy pants and green tee-shirt, athletic
shoes. He has, as he has been instructed, got
out of his SUV, the door of which is open.
He is standing with his head tilted back
because he is draining the last of a can of beer.
We do not know the nature of the offense
of which he is suspected, nor do we care.
As the book is set up as a series of snapshots, it's fair to say the book is true to its own format by sidestepping direct comments from Bowering, but it does mean there's no direct voice to say Bowering actually finds some of these landscapes alien or appalling. Is that obvious, anyway? Pretty much, but the more American culture dilutes Canadian culture, the closer we get to someone reading this book and missing the point. Some of it does spell out what Bowering finds disturbing: "The one held low says GO USA. In his other hand / he holds up a sign that says Get A BRAIN! MORANS!" But I think Bowering can't be said to state his perspective in poems like this:
26. Help us
Help us teach American Youth the Truth --
with music! The youth in America are being
lied to by liberal politicians and the mainstream
media... but we've come up with a Great
way to get the Truth to them: Music. The
Right Brothers, a conservative music duo out of
Nashville, has released a new song that does
what needed to be done: it tells the truth. Titled
"Bush was Right," the song hits the listener with
fact after fact after fact -- but the tune is so
catchy, and the music is so driving, you can't
help but sing along (especially on the chorus)!
Bush was right!
Bush was right!
Bush was right!
At the same time, it isn't the poet's job to hit the reader over the head with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, and it's hard to imagine what Canadian would take it in stride reading about Eddie the Eagle (the mascot for the NRA) and the suggestion guns should be treated carefully, like "swimming pools, electrical outlets, matchbooks," and other such completely unavoidable items. And certainly, "We've grown used to mascots," traveling in the U.S. is the sort of touch that helps clarify the distinction. What Canadians need is more work like this -- not self-consciously Canadian, but unreservedly comfortable in our own skin, and uncomfortable elsewhere.
Alex Boyd is co-editor of Northern Poetry Review, and the author of Making Bones Walk.
So, I'd like to start with a comment made near the end of your Late Nights with Wild Cowboys, in the poem "Jawbone." You express real fear and anxiety over the prospect of having your life and love be objectified, turned into summary, a bowdlerized rendering that "[leaves] nearly everything out." More than that, though, you are worried about how we ourselves are complicit in this sort of exclusionary act. I guess what I'd like to ask first, then, is: do you imagine poetry as a means of letting things in rather than keeping everything out? And what are you aiming to let in, exactly?
I really do think of poetry in that way, in terms of providing a space -- an opening -- in which it might be possible to say the things that are hard, and perhaps impossible, to say otherwise; in which to express that inarticulate feeling that you get sometimes...continue reading
Steve McOrmond's new collection of poems begins with a caution. In the style of TV content warnings, "Advisory" lists potential disturbing content to come: "themes which could threaten the viewer's sense of security," "Evidence of fatalism and irreligion," and the typical forewarnings about sexuality, violence and "language." Here McOrmond displays the dual cautionary and playful perspectives that interact throughout the book, switching from warnings about a drowning and an animal attack to the line, "The following program may contain scenes not suitable for language."
The poem raises the expected questions about what we censor and screen in popular media. What is considered objectionable, and why? Placed at the start of a collection whose title references Armageddon, "Advisory" leads the reader to expect a certain discomfort.
With that warning, the book moves to the title...continue reading