I know I should just let this go, but I am still very annoyed at the ludicrousness of giving the Nobel Prize in Literature to Bob Dylan. Not sure there is a poll on it or not, but of the people that seem to actually care (or even know about award winners), it seems to be breaking 75% in favor of Dylan with a small disgruntled group left out in the cold. I am strongly in this rump group, which basically means I am an unremitting snob to those (mostly Boomers) who are falling over themselves to justify the award. I don't care what Rushdie thinks or others argue, I will never agree that the balladry of song lyrics puts them in the same category as poetry. And even if they did count as "literature," I am just not convinced that Dylan's lyrics are actually better than Joni Mitchell's or Leonard Cohen's, and in terms of storytelling, I generally find Paul Simon to be superior to Dylan.
I would have still been upset had Leonard Cohen gotten the award, but I could probably have accepted it eventually, considering the breadth of his writing. I think more than anything, I do feel that the Nobel is supposed to go to writers (not musicians of any stripe) -- and generally to somewhat under-recognized writers* (though this in itself is contentious and certainly Alfred Nobel didn't set that out in his instructions). Nonetheless, I think giving the award to Dylan, who has been awarded prodigiously throughout his career, is taking it away from a far more deserving novelist, poet or playwright. Cohen himself has a somewhat different take, that Dylan is so far above us and so hard to categorize that it is "like pinning a medal on Mount Everest for being the highest mountain." Pithy, though I don't really agree that in the end that Dylan is so great that he actually honors the awards committee. (A lot of times I just don't understand all this Dylan worship.)
After the announcement, I went back and listened to a whole slew of Dylan, and honestly I found myself liking the material less and less. I clearly am so bothered by the injustice of the award that I am taking it out on Dylan (again, not that one dog peeing on a mountain will really matter to the mountain). So I am going to take a long break from Dylan until all this fuss dies down, since at this particular moment I don't like his music at all.
* Given that I do think the Nobel prize ought to celebrate semi-obscure writers (again not an actual requirement), I would probably give it almost exclusively to poet and playwrights. It's too late to give it to Adrienne Rich, but Marge Piercy would be an excellent choice, who wrote a number of solid novels in addition to a long career in poetry. (I like Sharon Olds's work, but feel she is a bit one-dimensional for the Nobel. On the other hand, Patrick Modiano (a very poor man's Proust) got one for a series of books all about the fragmentary nature of memory. After reading a bit of his work, I frankly think Modiano was another poor choice on the part of the committee.) I also think Charles Simic should be in the running for the award. In terms of playwrights, both Tom Stoppard and Tony Kushner are legitimate contenders, though it's not like either is particularly obscure. For an obscure playwright, who nonetheless has a solid body of work, you would probably have to turn to George F. Walker, who actually would not be a bad choice, though I'd personally still give the nod to Stoppard.
Edit (10/22): It is just too funny that Dylan won't even return the calls of the Nobel committee, and one of the judges is now calling him arrogant. I think it just speaks to the fact that at least some of the members of the committee were a bit starstruck and thought this would be a great way to get the great Dylan to show up to their party. Suckers. I don't feel at all sorry for them, since they really did demean the awards this year. Interestingly enough, it turns out that Leonard Cohen rejected the Governor General award in 1968 for his collection of poetry. Cohen put forward a number of various explanations, including he was basically a separatist at that time and, a bit more snottily, that there was no one in Canada who could judge his poetry. He mellowed out later and accepted a number of awards, including the Glenn Gould Prize in 2012 (presumably since he agreed that being linked to Gould was not a step down in any way). At any rate, I would say Cohen has matured into quite a revered elder statesman, and I wouldn't say the same about Dylan. I put a hold on Cohen's latest (and perhaps final) CD at the library, and I do hope he tours in support of it (Toronto and Montreal at least), and I will try to go if he does so.
Saturday, October 15, 2016
McMichael in the Fall
I have to admit, the trip to the McMichael was more exhausting and stressful than I expected or remembered. Also, it really started to go downhill on the return trip, so it sort of spoiled the day. I am getting closer and closer to just not going and doing anything that I have to drive to (which probably precludes going to the zoo, though that at least might have an express bus that goes there). However, I don't want the post to be a downer, so I'll talk in general terms about the return trip but then end with some of the beautiful fall foliage we saw on the way and then a bit about what is at the McMichael at the moment.
Probably the best that can be said for the trip back was that no one got car sick. I had planned to go into Kleinberg after visiting the McMichael, but it actually isn't marked as well on the way out and the turn-off just didn't look correct, so we shot past it. Then trying to approach Kleinberg from the other end, I got quite hopelessly lost. Eventually I ended up on Highway 50, which is pretty far west of Kleinberg. I pulled over and got some directions, though they weren't terribly helpful, since the cross-streets were labelled with signs that you just could not see in time to make the move to get into the left-turn lane. I decided to bail on Kleinberg (much to the chagrin of the children, who had been promised old fashioned ice cream). I eventually made it to the 427 and at least knew where I was. It was a tough call to try the 401 or go all the way down to the Gardiner. In hindsight, maybe I should have taken the 401. In any case, we were making slow progress on the Gardiner (after we finally got there) but at least traffic wasn't completely stalled. At that point, one of the children had to make an emergency rest stop, but there were so few options (and in this particular stretch of the Gardiner there are few off-ramps). We made it to Exhibition Place only to find that basically all the buildings have been shut up and even the bathrooms near one of the playgrounds have been locked. So ridiculous. Fortunately, one of the staff at Medieval Times took pity on us and let us use the bathroom. Then I was stuck on Lakeshore and it really was stop and go traffic, and the clock was ticking. In the end, I dropped the car off with 2 minutes to spare, and was so frazzled that I didn't even make it over to the mall before it closed. So I'll have to deal with a few things over there tomorrow once it opens.
So that was the bad side to the trip. I'll focus more on the positives, which is how I do hope to remember the trip in another day or so. The trip north on the Don Valley Parkway was pretty, and we started seeing a fair number of trees turning colour by the time we hit Eglinton.
Traffic was heavy until just after the 401 junction. As usual, the east-west traffic was even worse than the north-south traffic. We did make a stop at a Spirit in Richmond Hill to get some Halloween costumes and then kept going.
The McMichael was all aglow in its fall colours, and we ran into 3 or even 4 wedding parties shooting pictures on the grounds.
I'm not sure when the McMichael changed its photo policy, but now you can take photos on a gallery by galley basis. Most of the photos I took (that turned out at any rate) are of Lawren Harris paintings, and I've gone a little Harris-crazy over the past few months, so I'll just post two that I thought were particularly nice (and were appropriately autumnal).
Here are two other paintings from the permanent collection that I thought were quite nice.
I was a little surprised that they had given up two galleries usually reserved for the permanent collection for a second exhibition on Colleen Heslin. (Jack Bush was actually the main exhibition, and I have to admit, that he generally does not do all that much for me. I had come fairly close to travelling up to Ottawa for a Bush exhibit at the National Gallery, but I'm glad that I didn't go in the end.) I was a bit disappointed that the Varley ferry painting was not on view (I discuss it a bit in this post), but I have seen it a couple of times before.
The Heslin exhibit was interesting in the sense that she doesn't seem to actually paint, but pieces together dyed linen. Here are a couple of examples.
So the gallery was nice, though we really did not spend a lot of time there, considering the time we spent travelling there and back. I'm guessing at this point I am going to go less often to the McMichael, and it will have to be a particularly impressive exhibit to bring me back (unless they decide to start running a shuttle bus from downtown Toronto -- then I'd certainly go with more frequency).
Probably the best that can be said for the trip back was that no one got car sick. I had planned to go into Kleinberg after visiting the McMichael, but it actually isn't marked as well on the way out and the turn-off just didn't look correct, so we shot past it. Then trying to approach Kleinberg from the other end, I got quite hopelessly lost. Eventually I ended up on Highway 50, which is pretty far west of Kleinberg. I pulled over and got some directions, though they weren't terribly helpful, since the cross-streets were labelled with signs that you just could not see in time to make the move to get into the left-turn lane. I decided to bail on Kleinberg (much to the chagrin of the children, who had been promised old fashioned ice cream). I eventually made it to the 427 and at least knew where I was. It was a tough call to try the 401 or go all the way down to the Gardiner. In hindsight, maybe I should have taken the 401. In any case, we were making slow progress on the Gardiner (after we finally got there) but at least traffic wasn't completely stalled. At that point, one of the children had to make an emergency rest stop, but there were so few options (and in this particular stretch of the Gardiner there are few off-ramps). We made it to Exhibition Place only to find that basically all the buildings have been shut up and even the bathrooms near one of the playgrounds have been locked. So ridiculous. Fortunately, one of the staff at Medieval Times took pity on us and let us use the bathroom. Then I was stuck on Lakeshore and it really was stop and go traffic, and the clock was ticking. In the end, I dropped the car off with 2 minutes to spare, and was so frazzled that I didn't even make it over to the mall before it closed. So I'll have to deal with a few things over there tomorrow once it opens.
So that was the bad side to the trip. I'll focus more on the positives, which is how I do hope to remember the trip in another day or so. The trip north on the Don Valley Parkway was pretty, and we started seeing a fair number of trees turning colour by the time we hit Eglinton.
Traffic was heavy until just after the 401 junction. As usual, the east-west traffic was even worse than the north-south traffic. We did make a stop at a Spirit in Richmond Hill to get some Halloween costumes and then kept going.
The McMichael was all aglow in its fall colours, and we ran into 3 or even 4 wedding parties shooting pictures on the grounds.
I'm not sure when the McMichael changed its photo policy, but now you can take photos on a gallery by galley basis. Most of the photos I took (that turned out at any rate) are of Lawren Harris paintings, and I've gone a little Harris-crazy over the past few months, so I'll just post two that I thought were particularly nice (and were appropriately autumnal).
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| Lawren Harris, Northern Lake, ca. 1923 |
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| Lawren Harris, Early Houses, ca. 1913 |
Here are two other paintings from the permanent collection that I thought were quite nice.
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| J.E.H. MacDonald, Northern Lights, 1915-16 |
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| David Milne, Black, 1914 |
I was a little surprised that they had given up two galleries usually reserved for the permanent collection for a second exhibition on Colleen Heslin. (Jack Bush was actually the main exhibition, and I have to admit, that he generally does not do all that much for me. I had come fairly close to travelling up to Ottawa for a Bush exhibit at the National Gallery, but I'm glad that I didn't go in the end.) I was a bit disappointed that the Varley ferry painting was not on view (I discuss it a bit in this post), but I have seen it a couple of times before.
The Heslin exhibit was interesting in the sense that she doesn't seem to actually paint, but pieces together dyed linen. Here are a couple of examples.
 |
| Colleen Heslin, Monochrome, 2016 |
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| Colleen Heslin, Latchkey, 2016 |
So the gallery was nice, though we really did not spend a lot of time there, considering the time we spent travelling there and back. I'm guessing at this point I am going to go less often to the McMichael, and it will have to be a particularly impressive exhibit to bring me back (unless they decide to start running a shuttle bus from downtown Toronto -- then I'd certainly go with more frequency).
A Modest Proposal for Realignment
While it is looking more and more likely that Hillary will romp over Trump (though it is far too early to get complacent -- I have done my part by getting my ballot dropped off at the embassy already). Still, it is increasingly clear that the polarization is reaching fairly extreme levels. Now most urban areas pull for Democrats regardless of how blue or red their state is, but increasingly I think the U.S. would be better off if split into smaller units so that we didn't have to live with each other. I just personally feel that two parties and their adherents are now at a point where they are basically a broken marriage where they are staying together "for the sake of the kids," but in reality everyone would be better off if they divorced.
I drew up a couple of possible maps of my recommendations for the split. The U.S. would actually become three countries, since the whole two countries split with another country between them just hasn't worked out that well (see Pakistan and Bangladesh, for a classic example). At one point, I had thought it would be best to go state by state, and in some ways that would be simpler, but really quite a few states ought to be split -- both Illinois and Indiana need to be split, and Morgantown, WV ought to be appended to the Pittsburgh agglomeration, but the rest of WV really needs to go with the rest of the red states. I've heard that both Oregon and Washington State are quite different when looking at the eastern and western parts of the state.
I haven't quite thought much about about what these three countries would be called, though Pacificanda has a nice ring to it for California, western Oregon and western Washington (plus Las Vegas and Reno). I think they would offer Vancouver the opportunity to join in, and it might well break away from B.C. to join. (Alternatively, this region could just be called The Rim, and the citizens would then be Rimmers.) This would be a country that focuses on strengthening ties to Asia but also being a global leader on environmental issues. I assume that San Fransisco would become the capital. I had briefly thought about Phoenix, but it turns out that Phoenix is in the heart of Maricopa County, which is extremely conservative, and it just wouldn't fit.
While it is extremely tempting to call the red states Trumpistan, that is just an artifact of a particularly bitter election season. I think it does represent traditional values for better and worse, and maybe it would just be called The Heartland. Dallas would be a logical capital and would help keep Texas from breaking away on its own. I don't quite know how Alaska would fit in, but it would probably be a colony of sorts.
The third country would be comprised of the Northeastern corridor extended down to at least the Research Triangle in NC and then most of the midwestern cities, though Cincinnati and Indianapolis are excluded on purpose. Coming up with a name is particularly difficult, though given that most of the 13 colonies would be incorporated, it might just be called Old America. While New York would dearly love to be the capital, it might be best to migrate the capital back north (from D.C.) to Philadelphia as a kind of compromise. Or even Pittsburgh for that matter, as it would be more central. (Alternatively, Toronto might be willing to join this new country if it was named capital...)
The main differences between the maps are just how to draw the line between The Heartland and Old America. The second map is a bit more expansive and includes Charleston, as well as the Quad Cities. Maybe Fargo really belongs in The Heartland, though this list suggests Fargo would fit within Old America.
No question there are still difficult questions to resolve, especially what about Colorado, specifically Denver, Boulder and Aspen. Could they be treated a bit like West Berlin back in the day? Austin would also stick out like a sore thumb under this realignment. Notice that I am not nearly as concerned about Florida, as most of the liberal-leaning cities there will be under water in 50 years (or less).
Aside from the difficulty in redrawing maps and property swaps between the new countries, as well as the excitement of each country getting to establish a new Constitution, it would be interesting if there would have to be a resettlement program. It would just be far too painful to be in a liberal or semi-liberal enclave (such as Oxford, Mississippi) and know that you would never in your lifetime have even a liberal President (let alone Senator) and vice versa for conservatives in Pacificanda or Old America.
In any case, feel free to comment about cities that seem to be in the wrong place and need to be moved from one country to another. Note that I am going to be fairly strict about keeping the countries contiguous. If another arrangement, such as four or five countries, makes even more sense, do let me know.
I drew up a couple of possible maps of my recommendations for the split. The U.S. would actually become three countries, since the whole two countries split with another country between them just hasn't worked out that well (see Pakistan and Bangladesh, for a classic example). At one point, I had thought it would be best to go state by state, and in some ways that would be simpler, but really quite a few states ought to be split -- both Illinois and Indiana need to be split, and Morgantown, WV ought to be appended to the Pittsburgh agglomeration, but the rest of WV really needs to go with the rest of the red states. I've heard that both Oregon and Washington State are quite different when looking at the eastern and western parts of the state.
While it is extremely tempting to call the red states Trumpistan, that is just an artifact of a particularly bitter election season. I think it does represent traditional values for better and worse, and maybe it would just be called The Heartland. Dallas would be a logical capital and would help keep Texas from breaking away on its own. I don't quite know how Alaska would fit in, but it would probably be a colony of sorts.
The third country would be comprised of the Northeastern corridor extended down to at least the Research Triangle in NC and then most of the midwestern cities, though Cincinnati and Indianapolis are excluded on purpose. Coming up with a name is particularly difficult, though given that most of the 13 colonies would be incorporated, it might just be called Old America. While New York would dearly love to be the capital, it might be best to migrate the capital back north (from D.C.) to Philadelphia as a kind of compromise. Or even Pittsburgh for that matter, as it would be more central. (Alternatively, Toronto might be willing to join this new country if it was named capital...)
The main differences between the maps are just how to draw the line between The Heartland and Old America. The second map is a bit more expansive and includes Charleston, as well as the Quad Cities. Maybe Fargo really belongs in The Heartland, though this list suggests Fargo would fit within Old America.
No question there are still difficult questions to resolve, especially what about Colorado, specifically Denver, Boulder and Aspen. Could they be treated a bit like West Berlin back in the day? Austin would also stick out like a sore thumb under this realignment. Notice that I am not nearly as concerned about Florida, as most of the liberal-leaning cities there will be under water in 50 years (or less).
Aside from the difficulty in redrawing maps and property swaps between the new countries, as well as the excitement of each country getting to establish a new Constitution, it would be interesting if there would have to be a resettlement program. It would just be far too painful to be in a liberal or semi-liberal enclave (such as Oxford, Mississippi) and know that you would never in your lifetime have even a liberal President (let alone Senator) and vice versa for conservatives in Pacificanda or Old America.
In any case, feel free to comment about cities that seem to be in the wrong place and need to be moved from one country to another. Note that I am going to be fairly strict about keeping the countries contiguous. If another arrangement, such as four or five countries, makes even more sense, do let me know.
Election Updates
I hardly need to tell anyone that the U.S. election has descended into an extremely unpleasant farce. More oddly to me, it's also starting to feel a bit like piling on. I would say it is extremely likely that the next several weeks are devoted to the media bringing out the woman who claim Trump has groped them in twos and threes and let them dominate the news cycle. Given Trump's frankly unbalanced personality, he will spend all the remaining time in this election attacking his accusers and not spending any time on the issues (maybe this will be a relief for him, since he has no interest whatsoever in putting in the work it would take to prepare for a debate for instance). But I would like the election to turn on the fact that Trump is stunningly unqualified and is actively pandering to racists. It will actually be harder for the GOP to look in the mirror and figure out a way to sideline the racists in the future (i.e. add in a bunch of super-delegates or move away from winner-take-all in their primary process) since they can claim this fiasco all came down to Trump's sexist viewpoint and lack of verbal discipline and not admit that the GOP as a party has lost its way.
In any event, I dropped off our overseas ballots at the embassy (braving rush hour traffic on my bike to do so!). I've read recently that only about 4% of U.S. citizens living overseas vote. In some cases, they may be living somewhat under the radar and imagine that voting will draw more attention to them and the fact that they are probably not filling their U.S. taxes. That's not an issue for us, however. What is more of an issue is that my understanding is that overseas ballots are gathered up in each district but are only opened and counted if it is a close election in that state. I decided to do a bit of research, and the Federal Voter Assistance Program (FVAP), which is designed to facilitate voting by overseas voters (particularly though not exclusively members of the military who are disproportionately affected by these issues), says that this is essentially a misrepresentation (by the media) of what actually happens. They say that all overseas ballots that are cast in time are counted. I still have my doubts, since when you look into the sausage making that occurs on election night, it's quite clear that things are not always going completely by the books. However, it does seem that, by statute at least, my overseas ballot is supposed to be counted. I guess that is as much reassurance as I am going to get.
I really can't wait for this election to be over. I thought 2008 was stressful (and there are some interesting parallels in terms of how flaky the GOP candidate became under pressure right towards the end), but this is just dispiriting and awful.* I suppose it could be worse. I could live in a battleground state, such as North Carolina like my father, and be subjected to wave after wave of campaign ads. I've essentially completely given up on TV and mostly get news from Canadian news sources (as well as the Guardian UK site), so I really very rarely come across any of the political ads at all.
* I really don't think cutting back on caffeine has made any difference to how I think about the election. I'm down to about half the caffeine I used to drink. I did have a bit of a headache today, but it was just as likely to be a stress headache as related to the reduction in caffeine. Still, I will monitor how I feel, particularly in about a month's time when I should be completely off soda and just down to tea.
In any event, I dropped off our overseas ballots at the embassy (braving rush hour traffic on my bike to do so!). I've read recently that only about 4% of U.S. citizens living overseas vote. In some cases, they may be living somewhat under the radar and imagine that voting will draw more attention to them and the fact that they are probably not filling their U.S. taxes. That's not an issue for us, however. What is more of an issue is that my understanding is that overseas ballots are gathered up in each district but are only opened and counted if it is a close election in that state. I decided to do a bit of research, and the Federal Voter Assistance Program (FVAP), which is designed to facilitate voting by overseas voters (particularly though not exclusively members of the military who are disproportionately affected by these issues), says that this is essentially a misrepresentation (by the media) of what actually happens. They say that all overseas ballots that are cast in time are counted. I still have my doubts, since when you look into the sausage making that occurs on election night, it's quite clear that things are not always going completely by the books. However, it does seem that, by statute at least, my overseas ballot is supposed to be counted. I guess that is as much reassurance as I am going to get.
I really can't wait for this election to be over. I thought 2008 was stressful (and there are some interesting parallels in terms of how flaky the GOP candidate became under pressure right towards the end), but this is just dispiriting and awful.* I suppose it could be worse. I could live in a battleground state, such as North Carolina like my father, and be subjected to wave after wave of campaign ads. I've essentially completely given up on TV and mostly get news from Canadian news sources (as well as the Guardian UK site), so I really very rarely come across any of the political ads at all.
* I really don't think cutting back on caffeine has made any difference to how I think about the election. I'm down to about half the caffeine I used to drink. I did have a bit of a headache today, but it was just as likely to be a stress headache as related to the reduction in caffeine. Still, I will monitor how I feel, particularly in about a month's time when I should be completely off soda and just down to tea.
Thursday, October 13, 2016
10th Canadian Challenge - 7th Review - One Muddy Hand
In an sense, this is actually a review of two poetry collections: One Muddy Hand by Earle Birney (from 2006) and The Essential Earle Birney (2014). In my view, The Essential Earle Birney is actually completely disposable: there are only two poems in the newer (and much, much shorter) collection not also in One Muddy Hand -- and neither are memorable. If you are interested in learning about Earle Birney, you really ought to turn to One Muddy Hand. One Muddy Hand itself draws heavily on Ghost in the Wheels, a selected poetry collection from 1977 that Birney had a hand in crafting. However, One Muddy Hand then adds a few poems from Fall by Fury & Other Makings (1979) and a generous selection from Last Makings (1991). Thus, the final poems by Birney are represented here. I have to admit that I feel a bit of uneasiness around these last poems, since they are mostly love poems to his companion, who is 45 years younger than Birney. (Woody Allen, eat your heart out...)
Anyway, I do think Birney is worth reading, but he is fairly far down my list of Canadian poets. I'd put him behind Al Purdy, George Bowering, Robert Kroetsch and Margaret Atwood. Perhaps it is because he jumped around stylistically so much, with several of the earlier poems drawing heavily on Old English tropes: both War Winters and the more successful Anglosaxon Street borrow liberally from Beowulf's poetic form. Then he had quite a few poems that were more visual and experimental (sometimes called concrete poems). I didn't like any of the concrete poems, however. His mid-career poems are probably the most conventional and are generally the ones I liked best. Finally, he ended his poetic journey with quite a number of love poems to Wailan Low, his last companion (the one 45 years younger than him).
There are a few poems I thought suffered by indulging too much in broad (and cheap) stereotypes such as the anti-corporate (or at least anti-Fat Cat) "Toronto Board of Trade Goes Abroad" ("Krooshef had no guts") and the anti-Americanism on display in "Billboards Build Freedom of Choice."
Perhaps my favorite poem is "On the Night Jet," where Birney describes looking down over Saskatchewan and seeing "small waffle-irons glowing / on a huge farmhouse stove..."
However, I was quite amused by "Sixth Grade Biology Quiz" once I realized that a rat was answering the quiz: "How are their {rats'} children born? / From hydrocarbon chains like yours / but harder. / What do they eat? / Your world's unguarded larder..." It's actually a fairly creepy poem if you think hard enough about it.
I thought "Ulysses," "A Walk in Kyoto" and "Three for Allison" were also effective. Given that the last section of "Three for Allison" involves Birney playing footsie with her, presumably Allison was a bit of a love interest before he encountered Wailan.
Which brings me to the last poems in the collection. Al Purdy had commented that these were particularly moving love poems. I really can't quiet my inner scold enough to fully enjoy these poems, although the very last are somewhat interesting. I actually am put in mind of Yeats' The Scholars where the elderly scholars have no vim and vigor left and are "forgetful of their sins." Yeats would almost certainly have approved of Birney latching onto youth, but I am and will remain more ambivalent.
I suppose I do find it fitting that Birney is somewhat pained about leaving behind his young lover, though he puts on a good face and does not act jealous of her future flings. In "My Love is Young" he writes, "my love is young & i am old / she'll need a new man soon / but still we wake to clip and talk / to laugh as one / to eat and walk / beneath our thirteen-year-old moon".
"End" is even more forward-looking and elegiac: "in your spring / you took my arm / to walk with me / into my snowscape / ... / a fireplace shared / to warm another / with the same love / you shone steadfast on me". This was written in 1987, which was the same year he had a massive, debilitating heart attack, after which he was no longer able to write anything and had to go into a chronic care facility. He never recovered and died in 1995. This page contains a fairly detailed (and surprisingly critical) overview of Birney's life. As I said at the top, it is worth reading these selected poems, but the impact Birney had on Canadian poetry seems fairly slight, all things considered.
Anyway, I do think Birney is worth reading, but he is fairly far down my list of Canadian poets. I'd put him behind Al Purdy, George Bowering, Robert Kroetsch and Margaret Atwood. Perhaps it is because he jumped around stylistically so much, with several of the earlier poems drawing heavily on Old English tropes: both War Winters and the more successful Anglosaxon Street borrow liberally from Beowulf's poetic form. Then he had quite a few poems that were more visual and experimental (sometimes called concrete poems). I didn't like any of the concrete poems, however. His mid-career poems are probably the most conventional and are generally the ones I liked best. Finally, he ended his poetic journey with quite a number of love poems to Wailan Low, his last companion (the one 45 years younger than him).
There are a few poems I thought suffered by indulging too much in broad (and cheap) stereotypes such as the anti-corporate (or at least anti-Fat Cat) "Toronto Board of Trade Goes Abroad" ("Krooshef had no guts") and the anti-Americanism on display in "Billboards Build Freedom of Choice."
Perhaps my favorite poem is "On the Night Jet," where Birney describes looking down over Saskatchewan and seeing "small waffle-irons glowing / on a huge farmhouse stove..."
However, I was quite amused by "Sixth Grade Biology Quiz" once I realized that a rat was answering the quiz: "How are their {rats'} children born? / From hydrocarbon chains like yours / but harder. / What do they eat? / Your world's unguarded larder..." It's actually a fairly creepy poem if you think hard enough about it.
I thought "Ulysses," "A Walk in Kyoto" and "Three for Allison" were also effective. Given that the last section of "Three for Allison" involves Birney playing footsie with her, presumably Allison was a bit of a love interest before he encountered Wailan.
Which brings me to the last poems in the collection. Al Purdy had commented that these were particularly moving love poems. I really can't quiet my inner scold enough to fully enjoy these poems, although the very last are somewhat interesting. I actually am put in mind of Yeats' The Scholars where the elderly scholars have no vim and vigor left and are "forgetful of their sins." Yeats would almost certainly have approved of Birney latching onto youth, but I am and will remain more ambivalent.
I suppose I do find it fitting that Birney is somewhat pained about leaving behind his young lover, though he puts on a good face and does not act jealous of her future flings. In "My Love is Young" he writes, "my love is young & i am old / she'll need a new man soon / but still we wake to clip and talk / to laugh as one / to eat and walk / beneath our thirteen-year-old moon".
"End" is even more forward-looking and elegiac: "in your spring / you took my arm / to walk with me / into my snowscape / ... / a fireplace shared / to warm another / with the same love / you shone steadfast on me". This was written in 1987, which was the same year he had a massive, debilitating heart attack, after which he was no longer able to write anything and had to go into a chronic care facility. He never recovered and died in 1995. This page contains a fairly detailed (and surprisingly critical) overview of Birney's life. As I said at the top, it is worth reading these selected poems, but the impact Birney had on Canadian poetry seems fairly slight, all things considered.
Wednesday, October 12, 2016
Shock to the system (no caffeine)
I came across a really disturbing article on CNN yesterday. Basically, the claim is being made that diet soda is just as bad and perhaps even worse than regular soda. Just looking at the headline I was inclined to disbelieve the study, since it is inconvenient to me and my way of life. There have been so many medical studies, particularly about what incurs or deters cancer, that have to be retracted later that I have largely stopped believing in all of them. It seems to be an unfortunate combination of uninformed journalism and the fact that human bodies are so complex that it is hard to carry out rigorous studies on them.
As I read on, however, the findings started to ring very true, particularly how the artificial sweetness tricks the body into thinking it is about to get calories from sugar. Then when those sugars cannot be digested and turned into energy, the body compensates by going into a kind of fugue state and increasing one's hunger until one gives in and has some kind of snack. (I suppose this would probably be the same issue with chewing gum, so that's worth thinking over as well...) I have felt that my blood sugar levels are somewhat out of whack, and I have had tremendous hunger pains when I know objectively that I have eaten enough.
The good news is that I am not completely addicted to caffeine, though I do lean on it. Most of the studies have found that, when controlling for volume, coffee has 5 times the caffeine of soda. Black tea has 1.5 times the caffeine of soda, though obviously herbal tea (which is what I normally drink when having tea) has much less. Usually on the rare occasions I get sick, I was able to stay off soda for a week or so without suffering too much.
Part of me thinks it is kind of pointless to try to change my life at this point (and that I have already given up (or never started) so much -- meat, alcohol, coffee, smoking, no drugs -- other than the occasional second-hand buzz at concerts) that it just seems unwise to try to give up soda and diet soda completely, even if I do partly replace it with tea. I probably would have to stop going to all the going-away parties at work (and there have been a lot of them!), since there is no reasonable alternative to alcohol or soda when you go to a bar after work. (And no matter how you try to downplay it, you start coming across as a Sanctimonious Sam). However, I can sense that there is something off with my body's balance, which has been worrying me for a while. I'm going to slowly move into this phase (and I will drink up all the soda I've already paid for), but I'll try to switch over to tea (probably black tea in the morning and herbal tea in afternoon and evenings) and see how it goes. If it goes particularly well, then maybe I'll see about cutting back at the snacking at my desk and the late-night snacking. On the other hand, I may just end up so edgy and unpleasant to be around that it isn't worth continuing down this path.
As I read on, however, the findings started to ring very true, particularly how the artificial sweetness tricks the body into thinking it is about to get calories from sugar. Then when those sugars cannot be digested and turned into energy, the body compensates by going into a kind of fugue state and increasing one's hunger until one gives in and has some kind of snack. (I suppose this would probably be the same issue with chewing gum, so that's worth thinking over as well...) I have felt that my blood sugar levels are somewhat out of whack, and I have had tremendous hunger pains when I know objectively that I have eaten enough.
The good news is that I am not completely addicted to caffeine, though I do lean on it. Most of the studies have found that, when controlling for volume, coffee has 5 times the caffeine of soda. Black tea has 1.5 times the caffeine of soda, though obviously herbal tea (which is what I normally drink when having tea) has much less. Usually on the rare occasions I get sick, I was able to stay off soda for a week or so without suffering too much.
Part of me thinks it is kind of pointless to try to change my life at this point (and that I have already given up (or never started) so much -- meat, alcohol, coffee, smoking, no drugs -- other than the occasional second-hand buzz at concerts) that it just seems unwise to try to give up soda and diet soda completely, even if I do partly replace it with tea. I probably would have to stop going to all the going-away parties at work (and there have been a lot of them!), since there is no reasonable alternative to alcohol or soda when you go to a bar after work. (And no matter how you try to downplay it, you start coming across as a Sanctimonious Sam). However, I can sense that there is something off with my body's balance, which has been worrying me for a while. I'm going to slowly move into this phase (and I will drink up all the soda I've already paid for), but I'll try to switch over to tea (probably black tea in the morning and herbal tea in afternoon and evenings) and see how it goes. If it goes particularly well, then maybe I'll see about cutting back at the snacking at my desk and the late-night snacking. On the other hand, I may just end up so edgy and unpleasant to be around that it isn't worth continuing down this path.
Monday, October 10, 2016
Rejiggered weekend
This weekend ended up being almost completely different than I expected. I had basically thought I would take the kids (or my son at least) to the AGO on Sat., and then I would see Master Harold and the Boys up in North York on Sun. At one point, I was going to see if a neighbour wanted to go, but then she remembered this just wasn't a play that she liked (and indeed Sizwe Banzi is Dead is a much superior play -- probably Fugard's best). However, the real kicker came when I realized that the TTC had shut down the subway from Pape to St. George for the entire weekend, even Thanksgiving Day! Pretty lame if you ask me. I just do not like dealing with the replacement shuttle buses.
That meant that Harold had to be pushed off to next weekend (and I still haven't booked tickets, though I'll try to do that tonight). I ended up biking to work on Sat. (missing the rain that bookended the day). Sunday I took it relatively easy, and in fact read a few of the plays that have been piling up around here. I found that I really disliked Albee's Little Alice (and will be fairly suspicious of any critic who strongly praised it). I also found in general that O'Casey's Juno and the Paycock is just too imbalanced with far too much attention given over to the shiftless Captain Jack Boyle. He's basically a Falstaffian character, like Fluther in The Plough and the Stars, but he sucks up so much attention and isn't challenged (at least in the scenes I could stomach reading, as I got sick of him very quickly) and the balance is way off. I can't see sitting through a full production of this (or Shadow of a Gunman either for that matter).
I also went ahead and tried to book a 4-play subscription to Soulpepper, and ended up being quite outraged at the prices they were charging for Hosanna, including the fact that the only discounted tickets at all were in the first 2 rows. I decided I just am not going to pay those prices. I am going to bike over in about 10 minutes to see if I can get rush seats (though still not in the front row), but if not, I am going to skip this play. I won't cut Soulpepper out of my life entirely, but it is true that I mostly am seeing co-productions and not full Soulpepper productions this year. (Since I do need some flexibility and may need to switch tickets down the road, I finally booked my subscription with La Chasse-Galerie instead.) But I feel kind of alienated from their overall approach to putting seasons together and certainly from how they price their shows!
In the end, I took my son to the AGO on Monday, since it was one of the few things that was open. I wouldn't say that I was terribly interested in their show about Toronto artists from 1971-89, but there were a few nice pieces. We saw just a bit of Vera Frenkel's video about stories she picked up while living in Vancouver, but it was far too long to stay for the whole thing. (In general, I think museums are missing out by not selling DVDs of the videos that they host, since few of us really will watch them all the way through.)
I'm not sure quite how I would classify John Scott's Trans Am Apocalypse No. 3, which is an actual Trans Am painted black with the entire Book of Revelations scratched into the paint, but it was certainly memorable.
Overall, this era represents a time that I wasn't that deeply into art, and it is also the time when the art world started moving into conceptual art and generally away from craft. I am much more interested in art or at least artists whose formative and/or prime years were 1880-1950. That is why I am quite excited about the next major blockbuster exhibit, Mystical Landscapes, which I expect to see a few times while it is here.
Anyway, the whole weekend got a bit scrambled, and it is also quite a bit colder than it was last week, so that has made me a bit extra grumpy. I also didn't quite get enough done (either for work or in my creative writing) and this upcoming week I really need to deal with this broken doorframe. So, as always, there is a lot on my mind.
Edit (10/11): I managed to get rush tickets for Hosanna, and it was worth seeing, but not at $75. While I am generally loathe to encourage people to go in that direction of trying to get rush tickets, there is a real gap now that TOTix has closed, so finding deals and discounted tickets is much more hit or miss. I thought the play had its moments, but it was kind of exhausting hearing two gay men banter and attack each other, sometimes playfully, sometimes not. It's about two relatively fragile souls who probably would not have been quite so cruel to each other (or themselves) had they grown up in an era where homosexuality is generally more accepted (at least in urban centers in Canada, the U.S. and Western Europe). I don't really have anything particularly profound to say about the play right now.
That meant that Harold had to be pushed off to next weekend (and I still haven't booked tickets, though I'll try to do that tonight). I ended up biking to work on Sat. (missing the rain that bookended the day). Sunday I took it relatively easy, and in fact read a few of the plays that have been piling up around here. I found that I really disliked Albee's Little Alice (and will be fairly suspicious of any critic who strongly praised it). I also found in general that O'Casey's Juno and the Paycock is just too imbalanced with far too much attention given over to the shiftless Captain Jack Boyle. He's basically a Falstaffian character, like Fluther in The Plough and the Stars, but he sucks up so much attention and isn't challenged (at least in the scenes I could stomach reading, as I got sick of him very quickly) and the balance is way off. I can't see sitting through a full production of this (or Shadow of a Gunman either for that matter).
I also went ahead and tried to book a 4-play subscription to Soulpepper, and ended up being quite outraged at the prices they were charging for Hosanna, including the fact that the only discounted tickets at all were in the first 2 rows. I decided I just am not going to pay those prices. I am going to bike over in about 10 minutes to see if I can get rush seats (though still not in the front row), but if not, I am going to skip this play. I won't cut Soulpepper out of my life entirely, but it is true that I mostly am seeing co-productions and not full Soulpepper productions this year. (Since I do need some flexibility and may need to switch tickets down the road, I finally booked my subscription with La Chasse-Galerie instead.) But I feel kind of alienated from their overall approach to putting seasons together and certainly from how they price their shows!
In the end, I took my son to the AGO on Monday, since it was one of the few things that was open. I wouldn't say that I was terribly interested in their show about Toronto artists from 1971-89, but there were a few nice pieces. We saw just a bit of Vera Frenkel's video about stories she picked up while living in Vancouver, but it was far too long to stay for the whole thing. (In general, I think museums are missing out by not selling DVDs of the videos that they host, since few of us really will watch them all the way through.)
 |
| Brian Kipping, Dry Cleaners at Night, 1984 |
I'm not sure quite how I would classify John Scott's Trans Am Apocalypse No. 3, which is an actual Trans Am painted black with the entire Book of Revelations scratched into the paint, but it was certainly memorable.
Overall, this era represents a time that I wasn't that deeply into art, and it is also the time when the art world started moving into conceptual art and generally away from craft. I am much more interested in art or at least artists whose formative and/or prime years were 1880-1950. That is why I am quite excited about the next major blockbuster exhibit, Mystical Landscapes, which I expect to see a few times while it is here.
Anyway, the whole weekend got a bit scrambled, and it is also quite a bit colder than it was last week, so that has made me a bit extra grumpy. I also didn't quite get enough done (either for work or in my creative writing) and this upcoming week I really need to deal with this broken doorframe. So, as always, there is a lot on my mind.
Edit (10/11): I managed to get rush tickets for Hosanna, and it was worth seeing, but not at $75. While I am generally loathe to encourage people to go in that direction of trying to get rush tickets, there is a real gap now that TOTix has closed, so finding deals and discounted tickets is much more hit or miss. I thought the play had its moments, but it was kind of exhausting hearing two gay men banter and attack each other, sometimes playfully, sometimes not. It's about two relatively fragile souls who probably would not have been quite so cruel to each other (or themselves) had they grown up in an era where homosexuality is generally more accepted (at least in urban centers in Canada, the U.S. and Western Europe). I don't really have anything particularly profound to say about the play right now.
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