READERS WRITE

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homes past

I’m grateful that Caroline Adderson took the time to find out about the past of her home (“Lives of the House,” Geist 83), stories that otherwise would have been lost. I have two old houses in Alberta. One was built in 1917 and we bought it from the granddaughter of the original owner, so we know much of its history. The other is a 1907 home that has been through many changes: from a six-bedroom home to a boarding house, and eventually to an apartment building. We know the stepdaughter of the original builder—she lives across the street—but there are so many stories we do not know.

—Jamie, Cyberspace


Our home is on a tree-lined street in Toronto’s Leaside neighbourhood— a small-town-like enclave undergoing a mad rush to renovate and expand. In our home, I have removed and refinished all the original doorknob plates and the solid brass hinges. Keeping its original charm is important to us. There is no shrine. There is no story of families past. Perhaps we will be that family and leave our story in its walls. Thank you for this story—it was charming, memorable and rich in melancholy from start to demolition finish.

—Son Roberts, Cyberspace


What a heartachingly beautiful article. I have long felt that a piece of me has been left behind in each house I have lived in and have treasured each artifact left by previous residents, from layers of wallpaper to a hand-crafted clothes-peg box attached to the side of a Kitsilano (Vancouver) house—in my mind, lovingly constructed by a husband to make his wife’s laundry chores a little easier. The current trend of decorating to “lifestyle” magazine standards makes me wonder what traces of our lives will be left behind in the homes we live in now.

—Susan Goldie, CyberspaceRead “Lives of the House” and other work by Caroline Adderson at geist.com.


to the heart

In “A Table in Paris,” an essay about Mavis Gallant (No. 83), Stephen Henighan writes: “Alice Munro, whose confected ironies often act as a form of emotional self-protection…” Now there’s an assumption for a university professor to make. And sadly patronizing, diminishing an otherwise pleasant article. Mind reading doesn’t interest me. Or perhaps Alice Munro has confessed this to him? Or is it the reader who undergoes “self-protection”? Sometimes irony gets one to the heart of an emotion.

—Alban Goulden, Cyberspace



Lovely piece, but I think Henighan underestimates how much Mavis Gallant is appreciated by Canadian readers now.

—Greg Terakita, Cyberspace

Stephen Henighan responds:

Alban Goulden needs to stop discriminating against people on the basis of their day jobs. His belief that certain occupations disqualify us from being sensitive readers is demeaning. In light of Goulden’s own career as an English professor at Langara University College, one can interpret his remarks only as a confession that his own literary taste has eroded. This may be why he is impervious to the perception, shared by numerous discerning readers, who hold a variety of day jobs, that, particularly in Alice Munro’s later stories, irony becomes a way of sidestepping emotional engagement.

Read “A Table in Paris” and other work by Stephen Henighan at geist.com.


beautiful jealousy

I was on the cusp of forgetting what it feels like to read a great poem. A happy tear stuck under my eyeball clashes with a quick stutter in my heartbeat from the words, and the writer’s choices to collect and order them as she has. Then, of course, there’s the swell of jealousy bursting through my veins from my feet to the top of my messy-haired head because it wasn’t I who wrote the poem, who chose the words and ordered them perfectly. I am grateful to be reminded of this feeling by Karen Connelly’s “The Speed of Rust, or, He Marries” and Evelyn Lau’s suite of poems, “Fiercely Awake” (No. 84). My mom has recently been under attack from her gallbladder, so Lau’s poem really hit it on the gallstone. And Lord love a gal who writes a poem about her sagging vagina. Oh, my jealousy roars! I love it!

—Vanessa Shields, Windsor, ON Read “The Speed of Rust, or, He Marries” and “Fiercely Awake” at geist.com.


talented and tough

“New World Publisher,” the profile of the Aboriginal publisher Randy Fred, by Michal Kozlowski (No. 83), left me wanting to know more about the heart that steps out, even in the face of the cruelty and ignorance that persisted around this talented and tough man. Randy Fred has a new fan.

—Donna D. Peerless, CyberspaceRead “New World Publisher” and other work by Michal Kozlowski at geist.com.


they are us

The glimpse into a life in Leslie Vyrenhoek’s “Under the Surface” (No. 81) is so believable, so simple. The author offers up a turning point in these characters’ lives without succumbing to writing that is overwrought, and without telling us how we should react. We feel for this family because we see that they are us, at our best and our worst. What we desire and what we fear the most.

—Anonymous, CyberspaceRead “Under the Surface” and other winners of the 7th Annual Geist Literal Literary Postcard Story Contest at geist.com. Read the winners of the 8th annual contest on page 37.


squandering

Henighan’s “Third World Canada” (No. 82) intelligently and articulately expresses what I increasingly feel—that in spite of Canada’s many positive attributes, we are squandering greater, long-term opportunities for individuality, for short-term goals of a generic nature. I’ve been in Vietnam ten months and the sometimes brutal honesty of life here seems preferable in many ways; I am less afraid of criminals or police, and people are generally friendlier and enjoy themselves in a more honest way. To say nothing about the cost of living in general. I am curious, though, what Henighan might see as solutions to our malaise and how he reconciles himself to living in such a place.

—Yuri Doric, Cyberspace

Read “Third World Canada” and other work by Stephen Henighan at geist.com.


what counts

I disagree with Chelsea Novak’s perspective in “Women Count” (geist.com). Editors should be making gender and race part of their editorial mandate? The only thing editors need to look for is high-quality writing that people want to read. If women writers aren’t getting published, they need to consider whether their articles or stories are relevant and extremely well written, and that’s it. I despise the idea that someone’s writing might receive extra consideration simply because they have a vagina or brown skin, or a brown vagina, for that matter. It’s just as silly as suggesting more blond-haired folks should get published. If editors want to see more content about women or women’s issues, or about race issues, they can screen for those topics. But if the writing doesn’t make us want to read, then we’ll stop buying your magazine. The words are what count, not the politically correct affirmative-action policies. What is the world coming to? Next thing you know, everyone will be worrying that there’s not enough writing by iguanas. Who cares if they can’t write?

—Penelope, Cyberspace

Chelsea Novak responds:

In the blog entry I was not just talking about what editors choose for publication. I was talking about what editors read on their own time—which, believe me, has an effect on the work they solicit and accept. That said, should you ever come across a manuscript written by an iguana, do send it to Geist—we want to read it!

Read “Women Count” and Chelsea Novak’s blog at geist.com.


happiness and oranges

Thanks to Patty Osborne for reviewing Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? (“Jeanette Winterson: Happy, Not Normal,” geist.com). I first encountered Winterson’s work by way of the BBC adaptation of Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit, presented in Canada by PBS. The best bits of the story for me were the couplings of the young lovers. They seemed to be in a universe unto themselves and they were giddy with what they had, their bodies and their delight in each other.

—Steve F., Cyberspace

Read “Jeanette Winterson: Happy, Not Normal” and Patty Osborne’s blog at geist.com.


steerage

I was surprised to read that it cost 30 pounds in 1912 to cross the Atlantic in third class (“Too Many Asparagus Tongs Aboard the Titanic?,” Geist e-newsletter, April). In 1952, when my husband and I came over on the Queen Mary, it only cost 59 pounds—also in third class. Hate to think what would have happened if we’d struck an iceberg. If memory serves me correctly, we were on F deck.

—Pam Kent, Aldergrove, BC

Read an excerpt from Billeh Nickerson’s Impact: The Titanic Poems on page 26.


oops

Everyone makes mistakes, but some are more embarrassing than others. Here’s one: we enthusiastically featured Steven Heighton’s wonderful story “Fireman’s Carry” on the front cover of Geist 84, which goes to thousands of people, and also in our e-newsletter, which goes to thousands more; and somehow we spelled his name wrong in both places. Even more egregious, it was his first name that we messed up. Oops, to say the least.

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