Writing from a Place
My favourite stories always have a strong sense of where they are located.
This year, when there has been more time for reading than ever, I have sought out books on the American South. I’ve loved the South since I was a child. The deep mystery and clay red earth, the charming accents of the people. The portrayals of a place both proud in its past and uncertain about its future.
“Out of the labyrinthian ways of time the south was given birth,” says Judson Crews, a poet from 1946 Waco, Texas.
Even the stories of hopelessness and economic decline hold their sway on me. The way that people struggle to eek out a living because of racial inequality, a poor public education system, or a history of trauma and family violence.
Undoubtedly, this was formed from an early age by a grandmother who loved “Gone with the Wind” and a grandfather who loved The Duke. Neither would do much exploration of the racial bias inherent in either body of work, so as a Canadian, it wasn’t until I was in my twenties that I started to understand those elements of the South.
My love of southern culture is also tied to a teenage gothic obsession with vampires in New Orleans. I read Poppy Z. Brite’s stories about vampires and other malcontents, Lost Souls. And then we she went on to write about the restaurant industry in New Orleans through her book Liquor, I read that too.
From there my tastes expanded to Toni Morrison, whose family moved to Ohio to escape the problems of southern racism, and James Baldwin who made his voyage from the North back to his Southern roots.
Beloved was my favourite book from last year. It is about a formerly enslaved woman reckoning with her future and her past at the same time. It fits into the genre of magical realism which paints a view of the regular, modern world, while adding a few magical elements.
This year I was completely captivated by Where the Crawdads Sing, a story about a young poor girl who grew up in the swamps. As someone who spent some her early years living in an ATCO trailer without running water, and then later a house without heat or water, I can relate! The author herself also has a fascinating history.
As for the South, is history that is better known to many Canadians, than Canada’s own past. Not surprising when you think about how the country itself is only 150 years old. Alberta is celebrating its 115 birthday this month. Alberta’s history of human habitation dates back more than 10,000 years when the first Indigenous people migrated here. But as a country, we are not always aware of that rich history.
I’m not the only Albertan to share an affinity with our southern American states. The song “Sweet Home Alabama” is met with delighted cheers in any karaoke bar in my province and, somewhat disturbingly, some of us even seem to share a passion for the confederate flag and an American President who “puts America first”.
I chalk it up to an admiration of a place that knows its culture, and a longing for a shared narrative, even an imaginary one.
Once we can all travel again, New Orleans is on my bucket list.
What I am reading:
Melania and Me: The Rise and Fall of My Friendship with the First Lady
Rodham: A Novel (An alternative history of Hillary Clinton)
A word I learned this week:
Eggcorn— a word or phrase that results from a mishearing or misinterpretation of another, an element of the original being substituted for one that sounds very similar or identical (e.g. tow the line instead of toe the line ).
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