The tradition of
avant-avant was historically & culturally predisposed towards many
theological predilections, we agree and admit. Okay, so hello to a logic of ‘of
course-ness.’ Even if the every-act of allusion was denial and subversion and
impulse. But the roundness is a lineage and the veins thin and ebb, but never
sever: … Four Horsemen, bill bissett, D.A. Levy, Gary Snyder, … Susan Howe, And
now we can consider Darren Wershler’s the
tapeworm foundry as confessional liturgy and Jonathan Ball’s Ex Machina as souled text robot-god. History
persists in our mystical ever-present. (kevin mcpherson eckhoff and Jake
Kennedy, “Editorial Invocation: Hearts are Words Living Inside Everyone’s
Language-Spirit!”)
It’s
sad to see the final issue of Frank Davey’s Open Letter: A Canadian Journal of Writing and Theory hit the stands after some
five decades of publication [see the profile I did on Davey and Open Letter over at Open Book: Ontario this past spring, here]. Through its lengthy
run, overseen by editor, publisher and founder Frank Davey, Open Letter has critically explored and
encouraged the Canadian and international avant-garde through essays,
interviews, manifestos, festshrifts, conference proceedings and the publication
of works that would be difficult to find otherwise, and the loss of the
journal, despite the possibilities of the internet (online journals such as Jacket2 and Lemonhound have since picked up some of what was, for years, a
mandate nearly exclusively seen in Open
Letter), will be felt for some time. The fall 2013 issue of Open Letter (15th Series, No.
4) is “Spirit, Experimental Poetry, & 21st Century,”
guest-edited by frequent collaborators kevin mcpherson eckhoff and Jake Kennedy.
The collection of pieces, set into sections “Meditations,” “Mediums,” “Epistolaries”
and “Rites,” is quite magnificent, including essays, interviews and creative
work by, with and about Marie Annharte, bpNichol, Andrew McEwan, Robert Majzels,
Jordan Scott, M. NourbeSe Philip, Jeremy Stewart, Mat Laporte, Fenn Stewart,
Sina Queyras, Tim Lilburn, Ken Belford, Kathleen Brown, Jonathan Ball, Robert
Fitterman and Mark Goldstein. The mixture is lively, energetic and even
confusing, managing a fantastic energy that make me wish that perhaps these two
could have even taken over the journal.
Poetry
as a Spiritual Endeavour
In the small mostly
white Albertan city where I grew up, most kids went to Sunday school even if
their parents didn’t attend church. I rejected that God a long time ago. I couldn’t
reconcile my Chinese grandma going to hell, and there was already a lot of hell
on earth in my childhood and I didn’t have time to worry about the one that
would come later. So, although I’m not religious, I do see poetry as a
spiritual endeavor.
For me poetry functions as a cathartic and catalyzing
force. Whether to make space to mourn, to learn, to think through, this is the
affective strategy and spiritual intent of my poetry. It is imbued with the
same sense of hope I derive from seeing the eagles soaring over the Women’s
Memorial March every year. The march, which began in 1991 in response to the
murder of a Coast Salish woman in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside, honours the
lives of missing and murdered women, and reminds the public that poor and
racialized women continue to be disappeared and murdered. I don’t know what to
believe in when I see so much injustice. But when I bear witness to the eagles
guiding us at the march year after year, that they know, then I believe all is
possible. (Mercedes Eng)
There
is an interview-conversation between Toronto writers Mat Laporte and Fenn Stewart
that is quite striking, some thoughts on Walter Benjamin by Mark Goldstein, and
some very cool visual works by Robert Fitterman, Billy Mavreas and Kathleen
Brown. One the real highlights of the issue has to be Jordan Scott’s interview
with M. NourbeSe Philip, “Witch is Which?: Sycorax and Setaey within Zong!” in which the interviewer renders
himself (on the surface, at least) invisible, allowing the author to speak
without interference:
Prospero calls her out
of her name – the “blue ey’d hag,” “the damn’d witch” who lay with the “devil
himself.” She is Sycorax, Caliban’s mother – the cipher, named yet unseen, who
stands in for all that is subterranean and subaqueous. Sycorax’s genealogy
stretches back and forwards to include those like her who carry a certain kind
of knowing; within that genealogy I place Setaey Adamu Boateng (she is
identified as the voice of the Ancestors on the cover of Zong!) – she who recounds the story that can only be told by not
being told; the story that can never, yet must, be told. Perhaps, it is she who
is the story that is always told yet never told.
Another
highlight has to be the magnificent “Alternative Approaches to Indigenous
Literary Criticism and Resistance Writing Practice” by Marie Annharte:
What if there was no
longer need to refer wistfully to a “renaissance” because of the great
frequency that Indigenous authored works now enter the North American literary
canon or bookstore? What to read and study might equally confound any novice or
advanced academic scholar. Because many published Indigenous authors are
university instructors or educators, the continuance of their literary careers
would certainly help multiply publications. They could buddy up with other Canadian
writers to enjoy the fruits of labour rewarded by a government-subsidized
publishing industry and writing awards or grants. Personal resources like a
higher and regular income would no doubt further ensure latent abilities to
voice one’s own story or even that of others. This elite corps would provide
leadership and inspiration to attain more representation of diversities within
the ranks of both aspiring and established Indigenous writers. Moving right
along to join the ranks of political leadership, the Indigenous writer or “word
warrior” would be an impressive force for change. It is all to the good except
for the nagging question: would they necessarily be engaged in a resistance
writing practice? Would understanding the diversity of Indigenous literatures
alone be enough momentum to increase the participation of Indigenous writers? Would
engaging in literary criticism increase more of a readership base within Indian
Country itself? What if the continuous nature of Indigenous everyday reality
was to intrude into a developing phenomena of more Indigenous writers and more
writing?
Perhaps
the only frustration over the years with Open
Letter over the past number of years has been in terms of relative
availability, given the possibilities of the internet, and the limitations of
print (and Canada Post). We will both celebrate and mourn you, Open Letter; and we will strive to do
better at what you managed to do so very well for so very long.
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