Wittgenstein wrote: The limits of my language mean the limits of my world. Incomplete
in several languages, I grow heartened in the places I rub against the edges of
different tongues. The world’s languages push against this English I write,
they work their way in, ingeniously trespass. Writing, I imagine my text will
become a conduit for illegal traffic, a body to incubate a different type of
future—fractured, polyphonic, cacophonous, but sutured with silence, with all
that remains impossible to put into words.
Things aren’t all so
tangible and sayable as people would usually have us believe, most experiences
are unsayable. They happen in a space that no word has ever entered and more
unsayable than all other things are works of art, those mysterious existences,
whose life endures beside our own small, transitory life.
Another library, endless rows, enough space:
the shelves are populated with volumes of complicated questions phrased with
uncommon beauty. (Najwa Ali, “Writing, In Transit”)
Edited
by Meghan Bell and the “Growing Room Collective” and co-produced through and by Vancouver’s Room Magazine and Caitlin Press is the
anthology Making Room: Forty Years of Room Magazine (2017), an impressive four hundred pages plus of poetry,
fiction, essays, translations and interviews covering the first four decades of
a journal dedicated to publishing, supporting and promoting a series of diverse
voices of Canadian writers. Sectioned into decades, part of what is fascinating
about this volume is the way in which each section opens with an interview with
an editor from that period, from co-founder Gayla Reid (“The First Decade
(1975-1987)”), editor Mary Schendlinger (“The Second Decade (1988-1997”),
editor Lana Okerlund (“The Third Decade (1998-2007)”) and former Managing
Editor Rachel Thompson (“The Fourth Decade (2008-2016)”). The interviews
provide an essential context for not only the journal and its activities, but
the surrounding culture and communities. As co-founder Gayla Reid responds in
her interview:
We felt very much that we belonged in the
feminist landscape. High time that women had their own space to write about
whatever we wanted. Women’s voices needed to be heard. Silent no more. There
was no requirement that submissions should explicitly address sexism. We wanted
to publish writing by women that was good writing, and we were convinced that
there would be a lot of it around—and there was. At the time, writers typically
got started by publishing in a little literary magazine (usually edited by
men). So, Room would be a place where
women could get started. Our voices could be heard, we could emerge, develop,
blossom—all those growing images.
What
becomes interesting, as well, is in beginning to understand, by creating a thoughtfully-edited
journal of great writing, just how much Room
helped to carve out a real and sustained space for feminist writing and
conversation, opening the door to multiple writers, conversations and journals,
including more recent publications such as Canthius
and Minola Review. As Reid continues,
in her interview:
At first we were busy choosing from submitted
works. After a few years, we also sought out specific Canadian female writers. The
first adventure we had in this area was a special issue on Québécoise feminist
writers [4.1], which was tremendously exciting because we did not know their
work—very little of it was available in translation
In
terms of literary writing, I’d say we were most often looking for what Doris
Lessing called the “small personal voice,” which is what poetry and short
fiction writing is particularly good at rendering.
Featuring
work by seventy-eight Canadian writers—including Marie Annharte Baker,
Elizabeth Bachinsky, Juliane Okot Bitek, Nicole Brossard, Lynn Crosbie, Leona
Gom, Jane Eaton Hamilton, Nancy Holmes, Aislinn Hunter, Amy Jones, Fiona Tinwei
Lam, Jen Sookfong Lee, Erín Moure, Dorothy Livesay, Susan Musgrave, Sina
Queyras, Rebecca Rosenblum, Carolyn Smart, Ayelet Tsabari, Betsy Warland and
others—Making Room attempts to track
some of the shifts in and responses to the culture, from shifts in language to
responding to rape culture as well as the Montreal Massacre, conversations
around gender issues and multiple other subjects. Just as often, by simply
providing a space, Room was at the
forefront of some of those conversations, as Vancouver writer and editor Amber Dawn writes to end her introduction, “Overturning Scarcity: Forty Years of
Abundant Change”:
Room changed CanLit when
Cyndia Cole’s groundbreaking “No Rape No” (p. 24) was first published in the
1970s. Room has shown CanLit that
women’s complex bodies are indeed a bit, with fiction like Juliane Okot Bitek’s
“The Busuuti and the Bra” (p. 109) and with poems like jia qing wilson-yang’s “trans
womanhood, in colour” (p. 376). Room
continues to recognize that trans and non-binary gender narratives are an
inherent and esteemed part of feminist literature by calling attention to Ivan
Coyote’s “My Hero” (p. 195) and Lucas Crawford’s “Failed Séances for Rita
MacNeil” (p. 364). By honouring work like Doretta Lau’s “Best Practices for
Time Travel” (p. 388) and Eden Robinson’s “Lament” (p. 221, Room challenges tired notions that
social justice and Indigenous speculative fiction are anything less than
synonymous with great literature.
As you read this anthology, you will
undoubtedly regard it as a timely collection of seventy-eight exceptional
literary works. Please also take a moment to marvel at how scarcity and shame
have not claimed a single page, not a single line or word of this anthology.
You, dear readers, and I, and the seventy-five remarkable contributors are both
teaching and learning a new message, right now. Say it with me. There is Room. We do fit.
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