Disservice to the Discourse

I've already tipped my hand about What Is America, by Ronald Wright.* (To recap: I'm not a fan.) But after hearing comments about this book at a book club meeting over the weekend--a book club that contains perfectly lovely, educated people--I want to explain why I think this book does a disservice to American-Canadian political discourse.

For those of you who haven't read the book, here's what you're missing. The author, born in Britain and now a writer and lecturer in Canadian universities, puts forth the following argument: “[T]he New World made the modern world and now threatens to undo it” (p. 1). After a short introductory chapter, he chronicles the various waves of European contact, colonization, and/or settlement of North America through the centuries. Written before Barak Obama won the Democratic presidential nomination and published before he won the 2008 election, the book ends with the suggestion that the best hope for real leadership now comes from the European Union.

Wright tells an ugly story. The continent's history is one of greed, conquest, and relentless domination of the indigenous people. It is a story of people--Europeans, some Spanish but mostly British who become Americans--who use and abuse natural resources until they are spent, and then move on to take advantage of the next resource. It is, in short, a story of people. And it's a story that can't continue in this way. There are precious few “new resources” left on this planet.

I don't dispute the story Wright tells, even as he moves into recent events. I agree that George W. Bush was a disastrous leader and that his “war on terror” has been terrifying indeed. Two years after Wright finished his book, we're watching President Obama struggle with an obscene tangle of economic, political, and social consequences of the Bush administration.

But I still say that this book does not provide any benefits to the political discourse in Canada about the U.S. and the Canadian-American relationship. I think this book, and others written on this same pattern, in fact harms that discourse, for four reasons.

1. Readers deserve a book based on scholarship they can see and trust. This book doesn't make its case. It is set up to look like a carefully researched history--but it's not. The subtitle, “A short history of the new world order,” also suggests history. The book includes 226 pages of text and 142 pages of notes and bibliography. It has all the earmarks of a history, but not the substance. On close inspection, the book doesn't add to the base of knowledge. The information in the text itself was part of the university courses I took in 1982 and before. The notes show that many of Wright's “sources” are not original; they're quoted in someone else's analysis of empire in the U.S. (for example). That's not good, convincing scholarship. Other notes fail to provide a source for the statement in the text. Many contain information of only distant relevance to the material it's supposedly supporting. Many statements of statistics have no footnote at all.

Therefore, it's not a book that can be taken seriously for its scholarly approach to its material, even though the information in the book may well be new or shocking to Canadians. In fact, because the information may be new to Canadians, it should be available in an academically rigorous (yet, ideally, readable) book. Canadians readers would do better to take Wright out of the loop completely and read a few of the books cited in the bibliography.

2. Readers deserve to be told the truth about themselves. The kind of “history” in this book just allows Canadians to feel smug--mistakenly so--about their own past. Although Wright says “the America of my title has two meanings: the great republic most of the world simply calls 'America' and the American landmass as a whole” (p. 12), he focuses mostly on the “great republic,” and secondarily on ancient civilizations in what are now Central and South America. Precious little of his attention goes to Canada--though comments at the book club discussion suggest that perhaps it should have.

One comment at the meeting: “I've always been proud that my ancestors came from England to North America in the 1600s....and now [after reading this book] I'm so glad I don't have dual citizenship.” But until 1815 (or arguably 1776), Canadians and Americans were all British (except for those who were Native or from another European country). In fact, you could argue that Canadians weren't truly Canadians until 1867, by which time the pattern Wright describes--killing off or exploiting Native peoples and taking their wealth and land--had been in full force for nearly 400 years. The 140 to 200 years in which the two countries have had decidedly different histories total only two-fifths to one-fourth of the total time Europeans have been taking advantage of this continent.

Another comment: “I don't know how they [Americans] live with themselves.” The context for this statement was the treatment of native Hawaiians, particularly the last monarchy in the 1880s. Nowhere in the book does Wright mention Canada's 20th-century residential schools for Natives. And he dispatches Canada's history of western expansion and its relationships with Native peoples, including the war against Louis Riel, in two sentences with the remark that the processes in both countries “were all quite similar,” although there was “less fighting” in what is now Canada (p. 166).

Although Canadians are apparently Wright's intended audience (given the Canadian publisher), Wright does not effectively address his Canadian readers. He doesn't actively engage them in reflecting on their own history as part of the North American continent. Canadians could perhaps learn about their own history from the new biography series at Penguin Canada, Extraordinary Canadians.

3. Readers deserve a thorough, useful discussion of the major themes in a work. Yet Wright is ignorant of the history of religion in North America, beyond reading about (not direct reading of) the Puritans and beyond extensive quotation from Jon Krakauer's recent book about Mormonism.** Although Wright correctly identifies religion as a major cultural force in the U.S., he allows for no nuance in religious belief. “One in two Americans rejects the evidence for evolution; the rest of Christendom gave up fighting Darwin a century ago” (p. 16). I suspect this statistic comes from a general survey about religious belief, not specifically about evolution, but it's impossible to know--Wright gives no source for this statistic. (It's not even footnoted.) Wright seems not to understand that it is possible for (North) Americans to identify themselves as BOTH Christians AND scientists. He doesn't even acknowledge, much less explore, the deep divisions in mainstream Christian denominations in the U.S. For the past 150 years, progressive believers have struggled with fundamentalists, like those whose views Wright dismisses as archaic, over issues such as racial equality and marriage rights. These struggles form an important part of the culture and politics of the U.S.--but to Wright, they don't exist.

Another comment at the discussion: “What scares me is that someone who believes in an afterlife has his finger on the trigger of a nuclear device.” Wright's dismissal of nuance in religion lets his readers conclude (or continue to believe) that anyone who believes in an afterlife necessarily holds Earthly life less dear and is thus on the verge of annihilating the planet. Wright, like anyone else who writes about culture, politics, or society, had the opportunity to challenge the fundamentalist atheism of this comment, yet he didn't. Instead, he limits his consideration of the religious history of the North American continent to those aspects of Christianity that he seems to find puzzling or frightening.

Without a more complete picture of the role religion plays in the U.S., across faiths and denominations, and considering how each intersects with political and social perspectives, readers can't fully understand North America's present, much less engage in its future.

4. Which brings us to the future. Readers deserve a book that goes beyond fingerpointing. But in this book, Wright offers no real solutions--he doesn't even offer questions. Yes, Bush's administration was a nightmare for Iraqis, Afghans, and uninsured Americans, for starters. Yes, the North American continent has a long and sordid history. To which I ask: Now what?

Wright offers very little in response. The positive alternative he cites as the next possibility for “the world's best hope,” the European Union, is “discussed” in less than three full pages (pp 223 – 226).

The sad thing is, Wright missed a golden opportunity to speak meaningfully about the future to Canadians--who live in one of the countries that still has, arguably, a “frontier.” Canada's economy depends largely on its natural resources. Technology will continue to make it easier to extract oil from tar sands and to find and extract natural gas and minerals from previously inaccessible regions. In the next half-century, climate change could drastically alter the Canadian landscape, expanding the amount of arable land and triggering an influx of settlers from the south.

What if Wright had, from his expertise on the perils of colonial expansion, considered explicitly how Canada could create a different future? How could Canadians apply his accumulated knowledge, and the knowledge he draws on, and avoid perpetrating the mistakes of the past? Would it be possible for Canada to be the next “world's best hope”? Wright apparently didn't even entertain the notion.

Another comment from the discussion: “Why should we read books like this, that just offer apocalyptic views of the past and no hope for the future?”

My answer: we shouldn't. Instead, we should demand rigor from our writers, avoid national smugness, embrace nuance, and look for solutions instead of endless analysis. We should should read original sources, learn our own history, reject fundamentalist beliefs in whatever guise they come, and apply what we learn from the past to the future.

That's the biggest disservice Wright did to the Canadian-American discourse: He had the opportunity to write that book. And he squandered it.
~~

* Wright, Ronald. What is America? Toronto: Alfred A. Knopf Canada, 2008. Page references are to the hardcover edition.

** Krakauer, Jon. Under the Banner of Heaven. Rev. Ed. New York: Anchor, 2004.

Juxtapositions

Lots of back and forth, this week--the cultural equivalent of the weather this February. One day the temperature is above freezing and everything in sight is melting; twelve hours later the temp is 11 below C or 11 above F, the winds are howling, and it's snowing again. Go figure.

So here are three other pairings.

High tech: In Canada, several federal agencies--Finance, Treasury Board, and Defense Research and Development Canada--are under cyberattack. The attackers are sophisticated enough to make it look like they're working for China. Employees of those agencies who require internet access have been authorized to work in cafes and from home (because those internet connections are so much more secure??). This has been going on for some six weeks but came to light only recently (did a cloaking device fail?).

Low tech: Minister Oda hand-drawing a caret (like this ^ ) and writing "not" to deny funding to an NGO. Here's a picture. My earlier take is here (hey, the "not" jokes used to be funny). Political commentators, and not especially left-leaning ones, either, are still talking about this, with ever-heightening rhetoric.

Haves: In the U.S., the Obama administration extended the Bush tax cuts for those whose income is more than $250,000 (for a couple, $200K for a single). Reason: people who pay taxes in the U.S. (and those of us U.S. citizens who legally DON'T because we PAY PAY PAY in another country but are still forced by U.S. tax law to justify EVERY SINGLE YEAR why we don't pay in the U.S. TOO, not that I'm bitter) are still voters. In the U.S., voters hate "tax increases," even if they are technically just cuts that are expiring, and even if they apply only to people who make a whackload more than you.

Have-nots: The new budget in the U.S. includes a $5.50 (Canadian? The loonie is worth more these days!) surcharge on people entering the U.S. from Canada by air and sea. This will net $100 million or so in revenue, a tiny blip on the screen of their need for revenue, especially compared to what they could have made had they reversed those tax cuts on the wealthy, but like whatever. Reason: Few paying the $5.50 vote in U.S. elections. I say "few" because Americans travel from Canada into the U.S. at times, too. However, I won't be paying this surcharge because flying from Minneapolis cuts the cost of travel significantly, even with gas/hotel/time factored in.

If you like shouting: read What is America, by Ronald Wright (Alfred A. Knopf Canada). Written in 2008 before the election, it's full of sloppy scholarship and polemic. In fact, the title could use a caret: What Is ^ America; at the caret, insert Wrong With. His thesis seems to be that "America," a term that changes meaning several times in the book, is and has always been a horrible, exploitive place and that the neoconservative fundamentalist approach to life and the world is wrong. I don't necessarily disagree with him. I just don't think shouting is the same thing as making an effective case. Also, he's lazy in his research and writing, and he has no solutions. (Yes, some of the shouting related to this book came from me as I read.)

If you like muttering: read Doing the Continental, by David Dyment (Dundurn Press, Toronto). Full disclosure: I have only been able to dip into this book. However, I heard him speak, and he claims his book was aimed at the regular, nonspecialist person riding the ferry or the subway. If that's true, his editors should have had him try another pass, especially at sentences like this one: "The Americans are so much a part of our reality that they contextualize us" (p. 16). However, what I appreciate about this book and the writer is that 1. he claims a new type of relationship between the two countries is possible and 2. that Canada holds the power to effect this change.

That's enough whiplash for one week, eh.

Life Imitates Art

This is "Sea Monster Descending." I can see better how Woodland Artists visualize their paintings.

I call this "Still Life with Bird Poop."

This is "Abstract #2, Scat-Free." (Whatever is doing this has got to be something bigger than a bird, but no tracks and no scat...so far as we can see.)

This, of course, is very Group of Seven. Call it "Dying Spruce at Conmee Point, Mid-Morning."



This is just your "look how low the lake still is" picture for today.



And today would be my mother's 93rd birthday. When I was off at university, I received a letter from her (she wrote a note to one of us kids every morning) that said, "Today is Mother's birthday. She would be 113."

I guess that means I'll be eating scones and thinking of my mother every May 3 for another ten years, at least.

In the Words of Bartles & Jaymes

...Thank you for your support, Ontarians, through the Ontario Arts Council. And now I shall endeavour (it gets a "u" because it's a Canadian grant) to prove worthy of it.

We Made It Be

Want to know about Canada?

In case you missed the opening ceremonies of the Winter Olympics, here's "We Are More," by Shane Koyczan.



This is better than any Molson Canadian ad!

And yes, they say "zed" instead of "zee."

The Most Recent Best

The fact that I find the date of a new year an arbitrary marking of time doesn't mean I am not susceptible to "best of" lists.

However, it does mean that I'm not really interested in going back through the list of books I've read during the past year, much less the past ten years. (I can go back to October 13, 1996. Why are you surprised at this?)

So here are the best fiction and nonfiction works I've read recently.

Fiction. Driftless, by David Rhodes. A series of vignettes that create a fully dimensional image of a community. Nothing, no image or mention of an object, is thrown away, and I never am aware of the work of the writer. (Contrast with Barbara Kingsolver.) Community members are flawed and gifted and fully human, and these aspects of their lives are shown with the greatest respect. And yes, stuff happens in this story, as it does in real communities, but it's not the stuff that happens that's important; it's the effect of the stuff on the community. I read it slowly because I didn't want it to end, and when I was finished I started again at the beginning and read it with a notebook in hand to see if it was as good as I thought it was. It was.

Nonfiction. And Baby Makes More: Known Donors, Queer Parents, and Our Unexpected Families, edited by Susan Goldberg and Chloe Brushwood Rose. The title pretty much says it all, except for all the things it doesn't say. Like the fact that the writing is really good. I was afraid there would be lots of academic back-and-forthing as family members tried to talk about things (such as family roles) for which we don't have words, but the writing is very grounded and practical. I was also impressed by the honesty -- the shifting allegiances and jealousies that most parents in "traditional" families also have but hardly ever talk about were part of (but not dominant in) the larger story. (Full disclosure: yes, I know Susan and probably would not have noticed this book without her, but that really has nothing to do with the worthiness of this book. And I also have a "nontraditional" family, though not in this exact way, so yes, I'm personally happy that people are talking about these issues. That is not the only reason I admire this book and these writers.)

During this past year I've read other good books, along with some middling ones. I've read some simply because I started them and finishing allowed me to feel virtuous.

And I want never to take for granted the abundance of books that are available to me because I live at this time in this part of the world. Sometimes I do, and I shouldn't.

Climbing off the soapbox now.

Oh, and: The best book of poetry I read in 2009 is Jeremiah, Ohio, by Adam Sol. It's also the only book of poetry I read. It's way easier for me to puzzle over mathematical equations than poems (and I was an English major who didn't really "get" integration in calculus). However, I liked this book enough to keep it on the desk or just beside the desk so that I can pick it up and dip into it when I need a break. But then, what's not to love about an Old Testament-style prophet in the 21st century?

See? All these books, available with one-click shopping, mean that I even read poetry. Perhaps the apocalypse really IS coming soon.

Canadian Content at Christmas

The original words to this Christmas carol are in Wendat, the language of the Huron people; the tune is a traditional French folk song.

It was written in the 1600s by a Christian missionary, Jean de Brébeuf, at Saint-Marie among the Hurons. It has since been translated into French and English, of course. However, the English translation is relatively recent -- the best-known translation was in 1926. In this version, you get to hear all three languages.

I learned all of this more or less against my will. Last night, I was driving home from a late coffee with a pal and CBC radio was keeping me company. One of my least-favourite programs, The Vinyl Cafe, came on.

(The Vinyl Cafe is similar to Garrison Keillor's radio stuff. For me, a little goes a long way. And yes, I realize that feeling ambivalent about The Vinyl Cafe makes me un-Canadian. I am okay with that. I also dislike Jimmy Stewart, for the most part, which makes me un-American, especially at this It's a Wonderful Life time of year.) (Blech. Ptooey. Just trying to get that saccharine taste out of my mouth.)

I nearly turned to CBC Radio 2, or another station, or silence. But I didn't. And my reward for keeping an open mind about The Vinyl Cafe was hearing a lovely version of this carol and learning all this Canadiana.

I suspect I was already supposed to know this, but some information just doesn't stick until you hear it late at night, at the end of a long day, while driving in the frozen darkness toward your warm, love-filled home.

It's nice when "life lessons" like "keep an open mind, already!" bring immediate rewards like this. And if you find yourself singing "Jesous Ahatonhia" later today, don't be surprised. It's catchy that way.

A Very Good Place to Start

In part because November seems to be Literary Award Month in Canada, book clubs or book groups have been on my mind lately. In the U.S., it seemed that they were known more as book "groups"--because "club" sounds too formal and exclusive, perhaps? Who knows. I've also heard them called "reading groups."

Here, they seem to be, unselfconsciously, book "clubs."

In any case, selecting books to read and discuss with a group of people is always a process fraught with conditions and clarifications and definitions. Someone wants to read "classics," meaning Middlemarch, not Euripides. Someone wants a theme for the year--war, for one depressing example.

Some insist on reading best-sellers or a celebrity's selections. Nothing wrong with that--but why do that in a group? They may be interesting or entertaining but you probably don't need a group discussion to gain a full understanding of the book.

To counteract the "there's not much to discuss about this book" syndrome, some clubs choose from award-winning books--for example, those that win National Book Awards or the UK's Man Booker prize. The idea is that these books are notable in some way beyond catching a celebrity's eye.

And in that vein, here are another couple of good resources for interesting books that are worth reading in a group: the sites for two major Canadian literary awards.

The Scotiabank Giller Prize is an award for fiction. The players are different every year, the jury is different every year, and the results are always interesting.

The Governor General's Literary Awards, presented by the Canada Council for the Arts, have lots of categories in both languages. Children's books can win either for illustration or for text, and this year the winner is the same in both categories--in English. Because yes, there are awards for writing in French, too.

Just call it "resource week" here at Half-Canadian: linking you to information you never thought to ask for!

Literary Mashup...and Zombies

In my usual hip and happ'nin fashion, I recently participated in a pop culture phenomenon: I pretended to send my six-year-old son up in a flimsy hot-air balloon in an effort to get a television show.

Just kidding. Really, I read Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith.

I was inspired in part by slogging through (most of) (okay, some of) a literary classic, Don Quixote, for a book club. And yes, I felt a glow equivalent to the one you get from eating nothing but veggies and working out regularly. Therefore, I needed some Halloween candy. Also some way to get "The Impossible Dream" out of my head.

Although I contemplated re-reading the original Pride and Prejudice, I opted not to. I've been curious about P&P&Z because it is successful and because it has generated much discussion yet little outrage (at least in my cocoon). Also, I recently heard an interview with the publisher who thought up this idea (I'm behind on podcasts but I think it was mid-September, an episode of Q hosted by the lovely and talented Jian Ghomeshi) and this publisher told an interesting tale.

The form is, apparently, a literary mashup.

For those who are even less hip and with-it than I am--that is, the person to whom I happen to be married--a mashup is a combination of songs (and, nowadays, videos thereof) to make a new song (or video). Go here for definitions from the Urban Dictionary. The mashup is apparently mostly a music phenomenon, with crossovers to videos on YouTube.

And according to the Q interview, the publisher one day idly wondered what the literary equivalent of the mashup was. He wrote down a list of classics whose copyrights, conveniently, are lapsed and which are thus in the public domain--Moby Dick, Pride and Prejudice, Oliver Twist, and others. And then he made another list, this time of pop culture phenomena: zombies, sea monsters, vampires, monkeys, and others. And then he drew a line between the columns. When he connected Pride and Prejudice with zombies, he knew he had an excellent mash. Er, match. Or anyway, a title.

I liked that story a lot. How often do people stop at the "idle curiosity" step, without actually pursuing something innovative? Even I go only one step beyond idle curiosity, to decide that "someone" should do "something." That is, after all, the origin of my own venture, "Great Ideas for Other People," which I still can't figure out how to make into an actual business, but you heard about it here first.

So here's a rundown of my pop culture experience.

1. I had a difficult time finding the book. I looked high and low in fiction, under Austen and Smith. I looked on the store's computers 3 times to verify that the store had 23 copies on the shelves. And then I realized that the book must be shelved in one of those sections of the store I never go into: Horror. (Other sections I avoid include the yoga mat section, the computer reference book section, and the inspirational business section. If you see me there, I'm under duress--likely for a job.) Which also describes how I felt looking at the rest of the books in the section. Not exactly my cuppa.

2. So imagine my surprise to find that the book is kinda cute except when it's dumb. It has some fairly stupid gross-out humo(u)r (bodily functions, pus) and even a couple of off-colo(u)r jokes involving balls--both the kind you dance at and the kind that go into a musket. This aspect of the zombie story line is the least effective part of the combination.

3. In some cases, the addition of the zombie story line actually serves to make characters slightly more accessible to modern audiences. Charlotte Lucas has a pretty good reason for marrying Mr. Collins, for example--one that's comprehensible even to modern women. Mr. Bennet, too, has a different motivation that makes him not completely arbitrary and capricious. However, both characters retain enough of their original personalities so as not to spoil the storyline. The Wickham story is also resolved in a way that provides satisfaction to some modern readers.

4. In other cases, the story changes seem arbitrary. Mr. Bennet and Mrs. Gardiner both commit transgressions in the mashup that aren't in the original story. I was interested to see how those transgressions could help solidify or twist the original plot back on itself in an effective way--but they never did. A significant twist to the Charlotte/Mr. Collins storyline was equally "why?"

However, the questions in the Reader's Discussion Guide alone are worth the price of the book. Or at least a look-see in the bookstore. Read #6. Seriously.

Overall, it's like those miniature Mr. Goodbars--not bad for what they are, but not nearly as good as a Hershey's Special Dark miniature.

I did enjoy my foray into the mashup world. Always something to learn from popular culture. Though I think I might need an hour to dip into the original P&P. Just to cleanse the palate.

Toronto's Amenities

I previously wrote that Toronto, being a large city, has the amenities one associates with big cities.

Well, one of Toronto's amenities the second largest film festival in the world, the Toronto International Film Festival, which was happening last weekend. Huge coverage in this country and even some recognition in the U.S. A Really Big Deal.

Except not in most of the city. Which goes to show how big Toronto is. (Yes, I know: duh.) Our hotel was less expensive than similar places elsewhere in southern Ontario, so the rates weren't jacked for TIFF. The streets weren't particularly clogged with stars and stargazers, at least that I could tell. TIFF was just one thing happening, and to most people who live there, it happened in someone else's neighbourhood.

Which brings me to the inevitable Life Lesson. Toronto, and I'll extrapolate this to include other big cities, are just lots of neighbourhoods strung together. People live in these little
neighbo(u)rhoods. They go to diners for breakfast, shop for doggy treats, take kids to the park, gossip with the people next door.

And okay, sometimes they do stupid and criminal stuff, like get drunk and beat up a loved one. And sometimes they do weird stuff that authorities have a hard time figuring out, like this guy.

In any case, I enjoyed my brief stay. I will go back and do the tourist things, and there will be parts of the city I will like less than the parts I saw this time. But seen from the perspective of a sorta-adult instead of an easily intimidated, snarling teenager, the Big City was interesting and stimulating. I anticipate spending more time there throughout the coming years, and enjoying that, too.

Though I will say that navigating most of the length of the 401 (ranging from 10 to 16 lanes wide) for a driver with left/right issues at about 4 on a Friday afternoon wasn't something I would relish doing regularly.

Speaking of food (always), one thing I noticed was the ubiquity of fast-food-esque sushi places. Apparently some are icky, while others are yummy. (Seriously: we saw Ikki Sushi and Yumei Sushi.)

But still. Where I live now is my capital-H home. So although I may resist being Erica, I identify completely with Dorothy. No place like it.

Canadian Commercial Content

In case you didn't know, the 2010 Olympics are being held in Vancouver. No, really--they are!

Here's a commercial McDonald's (official sponsor) is running. It's pretty darn cute. Oh come on, it takes 30 seconds and it won't make you crave a Big Mac or anything.



I also think it's pretty darn Canadian, and not just because the golden arches have red maple leafs in them. Here's why.

1. The little girl starts by saying, "Excuse me, Patrick Chan." She also says "please." She also has a specific request (for his autograph) and has an object (water bottle) and pen to do it with. She's prepared and polite. Canadian.

2. Patrick Chan, who hasn't even had the chance to bite into whatever McDonald's sandwich we are supposed to believe he eats, betrays absolutely NO impatience with this little girl. Again, prepared and polite. Also, Patrick Chan is a figure skater. This is a big sport up here. Not as big as hockey, but still big. Canadian.

3. When Patrick Chan hears that he is to sign the bottle for "M-O-M-M-Y," he looks puzzled but doesn't confront the mother directly. Instead, they exchange polite, indirect glances. You could call them shy glances. Canadian.

4. Patrick does his thing, the girl says "thank you," and they all live happily ever after in their separate booths, presumably eating their food and leaving each other alone. Canadian.

Here's how this would have played out in the States.

Woman to friend (pointing and shouting): OMIGOD! That's Patrick Chan!
Restaurant Patrons (all pointing and nudging each other and saying loudly): Patrick Chan? Patrick Chan!
Friend: Who's Patrick Chan?
Woman: Only the best figure skater in the world! He's gonna take gold from all those other figure skaters at the next Olympics and then go on to a multimillion-dollar career!!
Restaurant Patrons: Oh! Wow! Gold medal! Millionaire!
Friend: Wait. Isn't he...Canadian?
GASP, then SILENCE
Woman: Can't be. He's really good. I'm sure he's American. Hey Patrick, wanna sign my water bottle? Hey, anyone got a pen?
Restaurant Patrons (clamoring and thrusting water bottles, t-shirts, and body parts toward Patrick Chan): Yeah! me too!
Patrick Chan (annoyedly): Please, folks, can't I get at least a bite of my Big Mac? It's chock-full of protein, carbs, and veggies...everything I need to keep me going out there on the ice. And frankly, I'm feeling kinda faint."
Woman: Sure, we'll wait.
Restaurant Patrons (clustered around Patrick Chan, watching him go to take a bite): Oooo! Ahhhhh!
Patrick Chan (puts down sandwich good-naturedly): Just kidding. Sure, I'll sign whatever you got! Bring it on!
Shots of him signing everything in sight. Fade out over scene of Patrick Chan and new best American friends all eating sandwiches (supersized, of course).

In short, class, here are the salient features of the American version:

1. They have to explain who the sports hero is because he is not currently in the news. They also have to tie him to money. And they have to pretend he is both obviously the best in the world and American to be worthy of notice.

2. The characters exhibit shouting, pointing, and other behaviour that is questionable in public. They also are unprepared to ask for autographs.

3. Patrick Chan is famous and thus is an object to be stared at. The poor guy can't even eat in peace, which he seems to think is his right even though he's a "public figure" and supposed to represent the company he's shilling for. Americans love this type of contradictory relationship between media figures and the public (Britney Spears, 'nuff said).

4. The tie between the chain's primary product and the personality must be explicit, so that the audience KNOWS why sports figures eat McDonald's food and they should too. Because subtlety doesn't sell down there. And water bottles are temporary, not appetizing, and not food.

5. The final result of the whole thing is boisterous camaraderie. Everybody is part of one big happy American family. A similar phenomenon happens in Canada but rarely and usually in relation to hockey or donuts. Plus it's short-lived.

See? Can-con is a commercial phenomenon, too.

And by the way: Patrick Chan was born in 1990. I think I have socks older than he is. In fact, I'm probably older than everyone in the commercial, with the possible exception of the sandwich. Which has nothing to do with anything other than the fact that I'm nearly old as dirt. Which, yes, happens on both sides of the border.

Sigh.

Sticking it to the Mushrooms

So, mushrooms. They're everywhere, as you may have heard.

Even on Canada A.M., where a new documentary, "Know Your Mushrooms," was featured this week, mostly because of its unusual distribution system: the USB stick. It's also by a Canadian filmmaker. And the focus is on the Telluride mushroom festival, which you can pretty well count on attracting a few interesting lunatics worth making a documentary about.

To see the clip, go here. The USB stick looks like a cross between an anime figure and something from a 1970s-era kitchen.

But anyway, we can't seem to get away from the mushrooms these days. Even on morning TV.

Un-Patriotism

Hi, my name is Marion, and I'm un-patriotic. In both countries. And I'm taking advantage of this sweet spot between Canada Day and Independence Day to clear the air.

Here are a few of my un-favo(u)rite Canadian things.

• Diana Krall. I know I should like her music but I don't. I just don't. I really want to, but I don't. I have tried. I don't like her public performing persona. I'm sure she's a wonderful person. I just don't like her. I also don't like performances by Celine Dion, Shania Twain, or Rita MacNeil (though Rita writes reasonable songs). I'm not nuts about Anne Murray. Yeah yeah--icons, wildly successful, I get that. But no, I don't like them. Sorry. Oh, and Mike Myers and Keanu Reeves. Nope.
• The Listener. It's a Canadian program that's also popular in the U.S. and I'm supposed to be supportive and happy, but this program is ridiculous. It's certainly no Flashpoint, which is the best of that lot. And CBC doesn't necessarily do a better job of original programming. The Border is waaaay melodramatic but I have managed to sit through entire episodes because the content is interesting to someone interested in the Canada/U.S. border. Reaching back in time, Intelligence and DaVinci Goes Viral are both too dark. Not dark in content--literally dark. I can't see a thing and the content doesn't inspire me to try harder. And you remember last summer's vote-Maria-off-the-island reality show. Brrr.
• Lloyd Robertson, anchor of CTV news. I should admire his ability to mince while sitting behind a desk, but that seems a dubious distinction. His delivery is just plain distracting, even when he's not stumbling over the words. Peter Mansbridge, CBC anchor, bellows a bit but he, at least, reads reasonably well. Though he needs to stop it with that "Next on most CBC stations: Geoooooooooorge Stroumboulopoulous! and The Hour."
• Persians, a dislike that makes me doubly traitorous because they're unique to Thunder Bay. But blech. Also poutine: don't get the point. And I'm not a fan of either Tim Horton's or Robin's Donuts. I'm supposed to support Tim's again because it recently moved its headquarters from Delaware back to somewhere in Ontario. But sorry.

Of course, the list of my un-favorite American things is longer. I've had many more years to compile it. But for some reason, the existence of that list inspires far less guilt. Somehow it seems acceptable to have reservations about the country one is born into, where one grew up. Though, given the country, it's sometimes risky to be vocal about one's reservations.

However, for the most part, I am unapologetic about the content of my un-favorite American things. The top of that list, today, is Michael Jackson. I know: icon, maverick, influential, yeah yeah. Don't like him. Didn't like Elvis, either. I can appreciate the importance of their contributions without liking them. And therefore, I do.

But about having un-favo(u)rite Canadian things: it seems churlish, having chosen to live in this country, not to be out front leading the parade with my face painted like the flag, red bars on the sides and maple leaf down my nose. I should be singing "Ontari-ari-ari-oooooo" and "Can-a-dah!" I should see nothing but fabulousness. I shouldn't complain about the weather, the healthcare system, the roads, the gas prices, the difficulty an immigrant has in establishing credit, the political leadership...well, you get the idea.

I do enjoy many Canadian things and people. I'm a big fan of Leonard Cohen, Holly Cole, and Molly Johnson. I like butter tarts and Nanaimo bars. I like meeting people with all kinds of interesting backgrounds who speak many languages.

But mostly I enjoy living in a country where patriotism takes the form of a mild smugness. Canadians think their country is pretty great, but they would never be so crass as to say so aloud. And that's darn refreshing.

So--Canada, I'm sorry about that "don't like" list but I know we can still be friends. And U.S.--well, I'm wishing you the best from elsewhere and hoping you have a fine holiday. (Pssst. Canada Day was better.)

Happy Patriotic Holiday Week

I've said before that Canada lacks patriotic songs, and I lived to regret saying it.

And yet, here's the topic again. And here's why: I've found what might serve as Canada's answer to the schlocky patriotic songs, most of which happen to be country music, that are played ad nauseum in the U.S. during the days leading up to July 4. Frankly, I consider these "my country, right or wrong" songs more than schlocky--I find them dangerously ignorant. Therefore, I won't be getting any more specific.

So, Canada's answer: Stompin' Tom Connors. He's "country," mostly in the sense of "folk," and "folk" in the sense of Pete Seeger. He's written about Canadian historic tragedies, about potatoes and tomatoes, and hockey. He received six Juno awards--Canada's version of the Grammy--and sent them back because Juno awards are now given to artists who may be Canadian but whose careers are American.

In other words, he's a bit of a contrarian. And he's not even from Alberta, which some call the Texas of Canada. He's from PEI, a cross between Maine (picturesque, Anne of Green Gables) and Idaho (potatoes).

In any case, here's what made me think of this:



But can I just say that I don't know of any American patriotic songs that mention Canada? Yes, I know, "Blame Canada," blah blah. But it's a novelty song. And it's not going to be played this coming week.

I Wish Everyone

Would go out and buy Molly Johnson's Lucky. The title track alone is guaranteed to brighten today and every Monday. Who knows--it might even cure road rage, the economic blues, and the surfeit of hockey.

Warning: the video below is a bit shaky, so don't watch if you have issues with motion sickness.



The CD has a few misses, notably an uptempo version of "Mean to Me" in which the sparkly music doesn't welcome the black-and-blue lyrics. I'm also not nuts about the Westminster Chime intro (the three-quarter-hour version, for those who are into that) to "If I had a Bell" but once she's in it, she sells it.

Molly Johnson layers meaning deep into the classics and makes you hear them in a whole new way. "Ode to Billy Joe" becomes more than the cliche of young doomed love--she makes it sexy and mysterious and tragic. In "I Loves You Porgy," her Bess goes beyond self-indulgent to show the honesty and self-deception of a woman who can't resist what's bad for her. "Lush Life," which I have thought of as "theme and variations on feeling jaded," becomes rueful and honest.

So go buy it. Or, because it's possible these days, buy at least the charming title track. Her official website, with ordering information and more background (including her bio) is here.

Because the whole damn world should be as lucky as I am!

Practice Brings Mastery

What the CBC unrepentantly calls swine flu is still in the news. I think that's a good thing, but I may be alone. Lots of people are simply bored. Others are bewildered by the attention this flu gets. Their reasons include, but are not limited to, "it's tiresome" arguments.

• This flu is less lethal than the "regular old flu," and trying to correct those factual misconceptions is tiresome.
• The media is hyping the flu as a sign of the apocalypse and is desperate for someone to blame (Mexico, anyone? porous borders?) and that's tiresome.
• The public is getting het up and freaked out and that's tiresome.

They're right--those things are tiresome. However, I think the current flu pandemic is still newsworthy, and that's because handling this situation gives us practice--practice that's valuable and necessary.

Here's the context. In Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell cites studies from the early 1990s about achievement. (Say whatever disparaging things you like about this Canadian's books, and people do. He's still extremely good at finding interesting scientific studies and musing about them.) These studies show that world-class violinists practice more than those who are average violinists. Further studies show that it takes about 10,000 hours of practice to master any skill.

Ten thousand hours. That's five YEARS of 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, 50 weeks a year (two weeks of vacation). More realistically, it's ten years of 4 hours a day, 5 days a week, 50 weeks a year (still two weeks of vacation). That's focused, attentive practice with the intent to improve.

Five years, ten years--hours of practice, every single day. A lot of time.

And how much time do epidemiologists, public health officials, policy-makers, and virologists get to practice handling pandemics? How many chances?

This outbreak is an opportunity for all of them to practice. We should applaud that, because when another outbreak of disease does occur, especially if another outbreak is more lethal than this virus seems to be, we want them to be skilled. We want them to have mastered their work.

We want them to be able to track the disease accurately and find its source. We want them to be able to find and explain the risk factors, the transmission routes, the possible and necessary steps. We want them to be able to predict useful actions governments and individuals can take, evaluate those suggested actions, and recommend different ones if the suggested ones don't work.

Scientists have computer models. But biological creatures, like viruses and humans, also behave in unexpected and essentially unpredictable ways. Ask any computer scientist--she spends a lot of time tweaking her model's assumptions and algorithms.

And guess what? We, the public, have a role here, too. This outbreak represents a chance for us. We can listen as specialists tell us information; we can ask clarifying questions. We can learn to assess risk more accurately. We can also evaluate the media coverage--is it hype? what is being downplayed? how big a leap are they making to get to that conclusion? And we can give them useful feedback that will help their performance--and ours.

Furthermore, we can extend that learning beyond the science to international relations, the role of government, even to history. For example, why might China be extra-sensitive about this flu outbreak--to the point of quarantining Canadians simply for being from Canada? Would a group of American students have submitted to a quarantine (while presenting no flu symptoms) as cheerfully? Why or why not?

The good news for us is that we have the chance to practice these skills every day, far more often than the epidemiologists et al. can.

So let's do that, instead of moaning about how boring it is, or ignoring the story, or freaking out. Please?

National Poetry Month!

Yes, up here, too.

And I bought a book of poetry in hono(u)r of the month. (Plus two others, regular fiction selections, but they were bargains. Bargains!) (Bookstores: dangerous.)

I know--I have said that I don't really know from poetry. I don't appreciate it at the level of the people who write it. That's still true.

This month, though, I had heard (while listening to a Q podcast during a walk) an interview with a poet, Adam Sol, who has riffed on the prophet Jeremiah in a volume entitled Jeremiah, Ohio. Here's the site of his publisher, Anansi Press, where you can read interviews and hear him read. Oh, and order the book.

I haven't started. There's the usual to-do list and inertia to beat into submission. However, I'm hopeful. I know context for this work. Jeremiah: I am not a Bible scholar but hey, I can look him up.

And there's a story around and in and through these poems. Whew.

Plus, Adam Sol is another American immigrant. So whether his work "counts" as Canadian content, I'm not sure. But it's poetry, and it's Poetry Month! So enjoy!

Like, Totally

Irritation has been my constant companion for the past week or so. Any time I have a free mental moment, there it is, sniping away, a little like the annoying yappy dog on my walking route. It's amazingly (did I mention annoyingly?) loud for being so small, and it's got these feathery things all over its body. It looks like a chihuahua dressed up as Chewbacca for Halloween.

Today, there was also an irresponsibly off-leashed German Shepherd on my walking route. "But it's under voice control." Not when the deer show up, it won't be, and I'm holding you responsible if Bambi's mother breaks her leg.

You can see what I mean about the irritation.

Fortunately, while I was walking today, I was listening to a podcast of Q, CBC's arts and culture radio show (see description here). (Canadian content alert.) Q is a mix of interviews, reviews, music--it's stuff you'd seek out if you knew enough to seek it out but you don't have to because here it is, all held together by Jian Ghomeshi, the accomplished and affable host/tour guide.

One of the regular contributors is Mio Adelman, who talks about websites and blogs and other forms of new media. Today, by which I mean "the podcast from the day I was listening to while walking today," he was talking about this blog, "1000 Awesome Things."

Mio said of this blog, and I agree, that one's opinion about the success of the site depends largely on one's definition of "awesome." To some, broccoflower, the smell of new tennis balls, and flossing might not seem so awesome. Mio also said, and I also agree, that while the site is not necessarily completely guaranteed to drive the blues away, it does make you re-think your knee-jerk cynical reaction to the world.

So, if you can't even take a healthy walk without being dogged by a yappy Chewbaccette and a menacing free-range security system, you can at least give this site a try.

Caveat: some of the entries are ridiculous and some are scary-mean, much like dogs. Quite a few are gross. But in there are gems, like #895, getting something with actual handwriting on it in the mail, or #852, the smell of the coffee aisle in the grocery store.

Bonus: it's a work in progress. He's counting up (down?) from 1000 and just got to 800. It's updated Monday through Friday.

And Double Canadian Content points: Neil, the guy behind the blog, is also a Canadian. Of course. Because Canadians are nice.

Canadian Content

Here's something most of those living in the U.S. probably haven't heard of: Canadian content requirements, sometimes known as can-con.

Radio and television channels--including cable and satellite channels--must include a certain percentage of Canadian content among their broadcasts. The actual percentages, as well as definitions of what constitutes "Canadian content," vary. For example, a station playing classical music may be required to play a lower percentage of Canadian content than a "top 40" type station. The reasoning is that fewer recordings of Canadians performing classical music, or people performing classical music written by Canadians, exist.

Television stations have similar restrictions. While some stations develop new programs, others don't. A station may fulfill its requirement to broadcast "Canadian" content by showing programs filmed in Canada for US television stations, which is why Sue Thomas: F.B.Eye runs every single afternoon. Even its Deaf-related storylines can't redeem that show. (Sorry.)

The whole idea was to support Canadian creatives in their efforts to, well, create Canadiana. As is true of most policies, practice is different from theory. I'm really not qualified to comment about specifics any more than that.

Canada isn't the only country with content restrictions. In France, Ireland, and the UK, a certain percentage must be EU-created content. Australia, the Philippines, and Mexico also have content restrictions.

All these countries worry that US content will simply overwhelm their airwaves and snuff out their homegrown creative talent. While I have a hard time believing that US programming is so great that it would find an audience around the world, I read somewhere recently (Discover? Macleans?) that CSI: Miami is the most-watched program worldwide. Which is a form of frightening unto itself, isn't it, Mr. Wolfe?

In any case, the whole point of bringing up can-con is to say that I will be sharing thoughts and recommendations about Canadian music and literature here from time to time, for the benefit of my faithful reader in the US and any others I should happen to attract in the future.

And to point out that there really isn't a need for me to share thoughts and recommendations for Canadians about literature and music from the US, is there? Which confirms that can-con is still a relevant concept, even if the practice is slightly off-kilter.