House Beneath

“House Beneath”
Written by Susan Telfer
Published by Hagios Press
Review by Shelley A. Leedahl
$17.95 ISBN 978-1-926710-02-0

The title of Susan Telfer’s first collection of poetry, “House Beneath,” is ripe with metaphorical possibilities. It suggests that readers will be privy to a story beneath the official story, that there is – or was – more going on than meets the public eye.

The book begins, uniquely, with a photograph of the poet’s parents circa 1964. An attractive, healthy and happy-looking pair, they “smile with their teeth.” But the book’s darker undertones are expressed in the opening poem’s final lines: “He was already learning to mix rye and soda. She was\reading in Dr. Spock to let me cry.”

In my reading, I’ve noticed that first books almost constitute a sub-genre within poetry. Often poets air childhood demons in these books; or recount adolescence; first loves and early mistakes; and, quite commonly, their relationship with their parents. The latter is the focus of Telfer’s collection. With both now deceased, she peels back the layers of family, showing us that her “famous” father – “your picture still on boardroom walls,\only man in town with a tie,\first to buy a computer,\ first house with a microwave” – became the source of much anguish as he regressed into a man who “became famous\among dealers, users and drunks,\for throwing it all away, yes,\infamous father, even your daughters,\your daughters.”

Being orphaned is a subject Telfer explores in numerous poems, but as she also demonstrates, for all intents and purposes she became “Fatherless,” long before her dad actually died. Already a mother herself, she writes: “I’m weak from chasing toddlers, my hips\still wobbly from childbirth. I can’t carry you.” The poet’s mother suffered with ALS, and we learn, in a poem simply titled “ALS,” that the woman “almost calcified into\the rock [she] wished to be.”

Pieces about the stunning west-coast setting in which she lives, the births of her children, and desire also populate this smartly-dressed collection. Telfer lives in Gibsons and teaches high school in Sechelt, BC. I adore her short poem, “Crows,” which begins: “One dark rain-sopped afternoon,\our lawn is scorched black with crows—\a smoky blanket of shine and flap.\The bare oak trees, too fool-full of hundreds\of crows. I have set my plans on fire.” Highly imagistic and original, and the poet is really paying attention to sound, as well.

Another dandy is “Fecund,” which opens (brilliantly!) with “Let the butter puddle on the blue plate:\my daughter is three days old.”

Finally, a few words about desire. It’s difficult to write about without overdoing it, and often less is more. “We had forgotten how easy joy is,” Telfer writes in “Chapman Creek,” and in “Ovulation Song”: “Follow me to the end of the deep dock,\hand in hand and hot wind, full moon over\Penticton shining its wide watery\path to us, then kiss me deep, no\Presbyterian kiss, a kiss echoing\like a long-held choir note, my cheeks humming.” Ah, good stuff.

“House Beneath” is published by Hagios Press. The book’s an interesting read for anyone who harbours ghosts in their past, and don’t we one and all?

THIS BOOK IS AVAILABLE AT YOUR LOCAL BOOKSTORE OR FROM THE SASKATCHEWAN PUBLISHERS GROUP WWW.SKBOOKS.COM

Published in:  on 24 February 2010 at 12:01 pm Leave a Comment
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Duty to Consult

“The Duty to Consult: New Relationships with Aboriginal Peoples”
By Dwight G. Newman
Published by Purich Publishing
Review by Shanna Mann
$30 ISBN 978-1895830-378

While this is, first and foremost, a scholarly work, the author makes an earnest attempt to present the information in a clear manner. There is no doubt that a layperson would likely benefit from a point-by-point chapter summary, but the absence of Latin terminology and self-referential citations makes it understandable—though it will never be a beach read.

The book explores the legal ramifications and implicit necessities of the so-called “duty to consult,” the duty of the crown to notify, consult, or if necessary include First Nations people in any licensing, sale, or use of land or waters that may affect the rights of Aboriginals.

If you’ve been paying attention to the news over the past decade of Aboriginal rights litigation, many of the cited court cases will be familiar to you—Taku River Tlingit First Nation v. British Columbia, Mikisew Cree First Nation v. Canada, and so on.

It explores the ramifications for First Nation’s bands and organizations as well as for the crown and interested third parties. It notes that many First Nations bands lack resources to properly examine and decide upon their rights in a “consultation situation” and further notes that, in keeping with upholding the honour of the crown, several provinces, including Saskatchewan, have made funds available to bands in order to assist them in the consultation process.

Anticipating further noteworthy changes to Aboriginal case law, the author has stated that “updates on important developments on the duty to consult” will be posted on the publisher’s website.

This book is a readable, understandable, reasonably exhaustive exploration into the rights and implications of the crown’s “New Relationship” with First Nations people.

THIS BOOK IS AVAILABLE AT YOUR LOCAL BOOKSTORE OR VISIT WWW.SKBOOKS.COM

Published in:  on 17 February 2010 at 12:14 pm Leave a Comment
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Terrible Roar of Water

Terrible Roar of Water
by Penny Draper
Published by Coteau Books
Review by Karen Lawson
$8.95 ISBN 978-1-55050-414-9

Penny Draper once again hits the mark with her latest young adult novel in the Disaster Strikes Series. This exciting story is set in a remote fishing village in Newfoundland and focuses on the tsunami that hit there on November 18, 1929.

Draper is a gifted writer who understands how to combine historical facts and fiction. It is obvious that she conducts a great deal of in-depth research in order to maintain historical accuracy in her book. Draper weaves a page turner of a story that merges fictional characters and authentic historical facts. She also explores the culture and traditions of a fishing village to show what life was like at that time.

The hero of her tale is Murphy, a twelve year old boy who loves the sea and the life of a fisherman. He lives in a small outport with his aunt, uncle, and cousins. The life of a fisherman is full of struggle and danger but Murphy embraces it with passionate enthusiasm.

Murphy’s life is turned upside down in a matter of minutes one night when his community is demolished by a disaster called a tsunami tidal wave. Homes and buildings are literally torn apart and washed out to sea. Murphy is put to the test and is part of a rescue team that does its best to save as many people as possible. He is forced to grow up fast and live up to the meaning of his name which is “sea warrior”. His love for the sea has been challenged but in his heart he knows that he will do whatever it takes to help rebuild and restore the community after the devastating events of that night. His deep attachment to the sea never falters and he is more determined than ever to become a fisherman.

This book is not only a great adventure story but is also a valuable teaching tool.

Published in:  on 10 February 2010 at 3:11 pm Leave a Comment
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This Is the Nightmare

This is the Nightmare
By Adrienne Gruber
Published by Thistledown Press
Reviewed by Carrie Prefontaine
$12.95 ISBN 978-1-897235-52-2

Adrienne Gruber’s “This is the Nightmare” is a collection of deeply reflective poems that will appeal to anyone seeking to understand the complexities of love and language.

“I don’t pick up foreign languages well,” the poet laments in “Dead Language,” and this is a theme carried throughout “Limbo,” the first section of the volume. Whether the poet is speaking a “jumbled commentary on who we never were” in “Our Frantic Language,” or reading the “Tabloid Poems” that “scald a pink fleshy tongue,” words themselves are suspect. In these poems, language is most meaningful when it manifests through the physical. In “How I Find You,” for example, emotional pain is written vividly all over the subject’s face: “You have the face of a Japanese bowl, / charred raw strokes of paint along your cheekbones, / plump and full, designed with clear intent, / your jaw tight, and pouring / out of you, something cold.”

The poems in section two, “This is the Nightmare” explore grief, carrying forward the complex search for connection, sense of self, and meaningful language. “[G]rief is a kind of dream you walk through” claims the poet, and the poems in this section are steeped in loss: for lost loves, for missed opportunities, and for failed attempts at understanding one another. Gruber’s vivid lyricism makes each poem a heart punch.

The deep sense of mourning also shrouds the poems in the third and final section, “Why I Can’t Let Anything Go.” The poetry in this section explores the most familiar and intimate and yet most difficult to navigate bonds: those of family. “My childhood house is diseased. A single lung / that sways, tries to breathe, but can’t fill with air” asserts the narrator of “You’re Not Crazy, You Have a Ghost.” These poems are indeed haunted, haunted by painful memories of complicated relationships, of words spoken and left unspoken, of actions taken and not taken. Why can’t we let anything go, these poems ask, and their resounding answer is that the things that haunt us are the very things that make us who we are.

“This is The Nightmare” explores the illusions we hold about those we love, or would like to love, or have loved and lost. The fresh and crystalline imagery calls into question the effectiveness of language to convey what we really mean, while simultaneously affirming the power of words in the hands of a skilled wordsmith. Above all else, and without becoming pretentious, the poems offer a new perspective on the nature of our relationships with ourselves and with each other.

This book is available at your local bookstore, or visit www.skbooks.com.

Published in:  on 3 February 2010 at 12:08 pm Leave a Comment
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