Afternoon Book Chat: Carrie Snyder and Cordelia Strube

By Colin Ward

Charlene Diehl was the MC for Tuesday's Afternoon Book Chat, featuring authors Cordelia Strube and Carrie Snyder. We began with introductions and very brief readings from Milosz and The Juliet Stories. Charlene followed this with a conversation about writing methods and approachs.

This was a study in contrasts. Cordelia was assertive and confident and her reading from Milosz focused on dialogue. It was a performance, including various voices, accents, and gestures. Her writing was inspired by advice from a politician to get a 16-year-old autistic son arrested, that being the only way he could get the care he needed due to recent government cuts.

Carrie was more reserved. Her parents had been "sandalistas" (peace activists, originally from the United States) in Nicaragua during the Contra terrorist attacks. The Juliet Stories is a fictionalized account of the daughter--Juliet--of such a couple.

The floor was opened to questions, the first being the most obvious:  how autobiographic were these novels? Cordelia replied that she was "too boring" to be the subject of a novel. Carrie joked about her father teasing her about the "morally relativistic" father-figure in The Juliet Stories.

Another question focused on the role that metaphors and similes played in their writing. Both authors downplayed their importance, saying that their straightforward approach precluded the need for such explanatory parallels.

Thanks to the these fascinating writers and to all of the Thin Air organizers that made this discussion possible! 

Under a Prairie Sky

By Tannis Sprott

The atmosphere was electric, the show was essentially sold out, the applause was thunderous as Winnipeg gave a rousing welcome to Richard Ford and David Bergen on the Main Stage Tuesday evening. They were reading from their new novels, Ford's Canada and Bergen's The Age of Hope, both of which are set on the Canadian prairie. The large crowd listened with an intensity that was palpable in the room, soaking up every word as the authors discussed the journeys of their main characters.

We accompany Bergen's Hope Koop through five decades of her life living in the small Mennonite town of Eden as she struggles to define and accept who she is. Ford introduces us to Dell Parsons, a 15 year old American boy who is abandoned after his parents are arrested for bank robbery. In order to avoid his becoming a ward of the state, Dell is smuggled across the border into Saskatchewan to live with Arthur Remlinger, another ex-American with a mysterious past. He ends up living in an isolated shack in the dying town of Partreau, doing odd jobs for Remlinger.

There was a third character present in the room that night that was woven through the lives and stories of both Dell and Hope, the prairie, in all its wonder and beauty and sparseness and isolation. The prairie acts as a mirror, reflecting an emptiness within each of the main characters. Even though Hope was born and raised in the prairie, she never feels like she belongs in that little town. She senses that she is different from those around her, and struggles with that difference her entire life. Dell, as the son of an Air Force captain moving from base to base, also has never felt he belonged anywhere. His isolation becomes even more potent when he is abandoned in a foreign country. He pushes aside his fear and worry by focusing on the work he is assigned, but at night, as he sits outside his shack alone in the great openness under the prairie sky that offers nowhere to hide, all that uncertainty comes flooding back. His soul is empty, he can never go back to being the person he was before but has no idea how to move forward either. And all of this punctuated by a back drop of stunning photography by Mike Grandmaison, pictures of such beauty as to stop your breath.

Then, the audience has the immense privilege to eavesdrop on the conversation between Ford and Bergen, as they compared notes on the process of writing, on describing the arc of a person's life and honouring the empty spaces in that life as well as the action. They were both adamant that you could write about something that you had not personally experienced. After all, the words "woman", "housewife" and "mother" don't appear anywhere on David Bergen's resume, and although Richard Ford was once a 15 year old boy, his parents never robbed a bank or abandoned him. It is the incredible gift of imagination and a healthy dose of daring that allows authors to tell other people's stories. The wonder of a novel is that it asks the reader to pay attention, to be drawn in and to honour those stories. We were certainly held in rapt attention that night.

An Unforgettable Afternoon

By Tannis Sprott

Thin Air is always a surprise. Surprisingly profound. Profoundly moving. I snuck into the school stage program on Monday afternoon to catch Karen Levine talking about her non-fiction book Hana's Suitcase with Grade 5 and 6 students from Gray Academy of Jewish Education. It is the story of Hana Brady, born in Czechoslovakia in 1931, and murdered in the gas chamber at Auschwitz in 1944 at the age of 13. I left an hour later moved to tears by the story of Hana, and filled with admiration for those kids, their courage in tackling a difficult subject, the depth of their curiosity, their struggle to relate Hana's life to their own.

It all began with a young Japanese educator, Fumiko Ishioka, who ran the Tokyo Holocaust Education Resource Centre, and was searching for a way to engage young people in learning about the holocaust. She visited Auschwitz and requested the loan of any artifacts that would have belonged to children, and was given Hana's suitcase. It elicited such a strong response from her young students that she began a year long quest to discover who Hana was. She eventually tracked down Hana's older brother George, now living in Toronto, who had survived the concentration camp, and helped piece together the fragments of Hana's life. Karen Levine read about Hana's suitcase in the Canadian Jewish News, and was inspired to turn it into a CBC documentary, and later, a book.

As the author spoke about Hana and her brother, she tracked the dissolution of their family life as one thing after another was stripped from them, and revealed how they ended up in the concentration camp. It was Dr. Joseph Mengele, known as the "Angel of Death",  who decided their fates. George, older and stronger, was sent off to be a labourer. Hana, being younger and smaller, was sentenced to the gas chamber mere hours after arriving at Auschwitz. I found myself weeping as the author told their story to a backdrop of family pictures featuring two happy, smiling kids, cross country skiing, skating, dressed in costume for a play. They could have been anybody's kids, and therein lies the power of the story.

The children in the audience were spellbound, and when it came time to ask questions, so many hands shot up that it looked like a forest of tree limbs reaching for the sky, quivering in the breeze. Many of their questions were unbelievably poignant. "Why didn't the Jews fight back?" "How did George survive?" "What did they do with the bodies when they came out of the gas chamber?" "Did they ever catch Dr. Mengele?" "Were the Jews happy when Hitler died?" "Why didn't the rest of the world help them?"

There is such a temptation to shield and protect our children from bad stories. Levine refuses to do that. She honours Hana's short life by respectfully relating every detail they discovered, by answering every question that is asked, by pointing out that it is important to learn from Hana's experiences because genocide is still with us today. She also encouraged them to explore many of the larger issues with their history teachers. Thanks to that suitcase, children all over the world have been catapulted into her world, ensuring that Hana's story, and that of the holocaust, is never forgotten. Hana's life may have been short, but her reach is long. It was a powerful afternoon, and I will long remember Hana and those Winnipeg school kids.

In Case you missed it…Again: Monday Mainstage

By Jeannette Bodnar

So, it’s day four of the festival and I’m still not sure what to expect. Each venue has proven to be both great and yet different from the one before. It’s the first night of the Mainstage series so I know it will be strong. The theme is "Life Lessons" and although I don’t recognize all the writers, I trust that the evening will deliver.

 I arrive at the Shaw Performing Arts Centre early and find a seat close to the front. The organizers have done an exceptional job of creating the perfect balance of cozy and sophisticated. The chic EQ3 furniture that decorates the stage is framed by a bookstore table on the left and wine and cheese bar on the right. As I watch little micro communities form around the room, I curse myself for forgetting my camera, again. 

It’s a handsome crowd. Maybe it’s the energy that makes them this way. There is definitely a feeling of community in the air. 

“Hey, how are you?”—“I haven’t seen you for ages.”—“This is so and so.”—“Come. Sit with us.”  

You get the picture.

 So often when you think about writers, the image is narrowed to the lone author in front of her computer, cold coffee and cat beside her. It’s easy to forget that there is a whole community, and communities within the community, that are the lifeblood of the writing world. 

As Charlene Diehl gets ready to take the stage, conversations are wrapped up, wine is replenished, and seats are taken. Charlene welcomes everyone and thanks the sponsors, then draws attention to the empty chair that occupies the front right corner of the stage. The chair is for PEN Canada, a reminder to advocate for the rights of silenced writers. 

“It takes courage to tell people’s difficult stories”, she tells the crowd. 

The first to take the stage is Richard Van Camp, an author I have not yet read. He reads from his new book Godless but Loyal to Heaven. The beauty of this reading is that it feels quite like a dream. When Van Camp finishes I awake to the applause of the audience. It irritates me that I have never read him before. There are writers and there are storytellers. I feel he is storyteller and that writing is just a convenient tool that he uses for those who don’t have the privilege of hearing him speak. 

Next up is Stella Leventoyannis Harvey. She reads from her book Nicolai’s Daughters. The story takes place in both Canada and Greece and deals with family relationships from the perspective of Nicolai and his daughter Alexia. Even though I’m not Greek, the passages that Harvey reads are relatable on multiple levels. The themes are both universal and yet very Canadian at the same time. Family secrets, multigenerational conflict, and the struggle to understand a culture you’ve never had the opportunity to be part of, make this book a must read for so many people.

Carrie Snyder is the final author in the first half of the evening. The Juliet Stories takes place in Nicaragua in the 1980s. Snyder’s reading makes me think that there is an emergence of a new kind of historical fiction happening. For many of us, the 80s isn’t that long ago. However it seems as though there are more books coming out that are set during this era. Snyder’s book, from the perspective of 10 year old Juliet, comes across as heartfelt and convincing. As she reads about Juliet and her mother, I can feel the sticky heat of Nicaragua. Snyder successfully gives her reader the world through Juliet, a definite warm-me-up book to read during the cold winter months.

During the intermission, I grab a refill on water and sit down to reflect on the readings. Those who aren’t grabbing refills at the bar are swarmed around the bookstore table. The authors are frantically signing books whilst simultaneously engaged in conversation with eager readers. Richard Van Camp grabs a seat in front of me before the second half and I must say I’m a little star-struck.

The second half begins.

Meira Cook takes the stage. I’ve heard Cook read before, and admit she was one of the reasons I was drawn to Monday night’s venue. I was first introduced to her poetry last year and was immediately hooked. She reads from her new novel The House on Sugarbush Road. The passage is about love story between two of the characters and the ways in which the words are weaved reflect her strengths as a poet. The story, which takes place in Johannesburg in the 90s, is enticing enough, but it's Cook's skill at placing just the right sounds together that make each sentence seem in harmony with the last. Even though The House on Sugarbush Road is a novel, it feels as though it should be read aloud.

Following Cook is Cordelia Strube, another name that drew me in. She immediately changes the tone in the room from serious to humorous; first by admitting she’s been hiding backstage, then by chastising Charlene for making her communicate a “life lesson” in 12 minutes. Strube introduces us to seven of the ten central characters of her new novel Milosz. She delivers her story with bang-on accents and treats us to a performance akin to a well done one woman play. Her playwriting experience shines through in her writing. The dialogue is sharp and funny and pulls the audience into the room with her characters. In a span of 12 minutes, I know the people she is writing about, I can see them, I can feel their history. Her reading is outstanding.

Last up for the evening is Jess Walter. I believe he was supposed to be reading from Beautiful Ruins. However, Walter has a different agenda, which includes a tutorial on how to learn an Irish accent off YouTube, a recount of a book signing at Costco where he cut up his novel and handed out sample sentences, and a poem about mom’s underwear.—My kids will never be allowed to help with laundry again.—When he finally decides to talk about his book he refers to a Harper’s review that called it “his most romantic book yet,” to which he responds is “the equivalent of McDonald’s most gourmet meal yet.” In the end he reads a sentence from the book and despite not really hearing anything about Beautiful Ruins, Walter’s humor has hooked my curiosity.

All in all, it was another fantastic event at Thin Air. I know this post was long, but I feel as though each writer deserves to be highlighted because the talent that is showcased at this festival is exceptional. If you didn’t make it out on Monday, there are still plenty of events to attend. Thin Air is for writers and readers and lovers of words and I can’t wait to fill you in on the week ahead.

One Great City (I Told You So)

By Steve Locke

In 2007, I left Winnipeg for Vancouver for what would be a five-year mission to pursue a miseducation in the writing craft. With me came many personal artifacts including a vintage Jets jersey that was bought at a garage sale, and a collection of CDs by local musicians such as Sixty Stories, The New Meanies, and The Transistor Sound & Lighting Co. If these names are unfamiliar, or ring some distant muffled bell, it’s because they haven’t been bands for years. Most had released one or two seminal albums that garnered attention on MuchMusic, back when the cable TV station actually supported homegrown artists. Hearing news of their disbanding or departure only reinforced that “oh well” mentality that Winnipeggers learn to adopt when their football team consistently loses, or their close friend moves away, or when winter hits. 

Sunday evening, attendees of Thin Air’s “Voices from Oodena” were given a pick-me-up while sitting on the cold concrete steps of the Oodena Celebration Circle at the Forks. The outdoor event glowed with the presence of local talents under a setting sun, writers who uncovered myths and ephemera to enchant and reward Winnpeggers simply for choosing to stick around town, and even those who have chosen to return, such as myself.

Like one of the event’s sponsors articulated, I once believed that books were written by someone else - about somewhere else. In Vancouver, or “Terminal City,” where nothing is nailed down in all the fog and movement, I held onto my music as one of the few things that kept me real. And after being somewhere else for a while, that night I felt like I finally landed in a blossom of home and self, both made so immaculately real…and surreal.

Chadwick Ginther proved that Manitoba can be used as a fantasy setting in the same vein as Middle Earth. When you consider the local appreciation for Norse mythology in the names of places like Gimli and the municipality of Bifrost, having the mischievous god Loki as a character in his novel, “Thunder Road,” seems all too fitting. Where pop culture places Loki in grand New York City as a villain in “The Avengers,” it’s a beautiful and refreshing thing to put our fair province on the map as only a Manitoban can do.

All five senses were tantalized in the vivid poetry of both Sarah Klassen and Rhea Tregebov. I have a particular fondness for Rhea, being a former student of hers at UBC and in our bonding as ex-pat Winnipeggers. I engaged with her descriptions of the familiar scents of home cooked pickerel and wild rice with mushrooms, and the benevolence of warm days in September. Klassen, who is no stranger to the classroom herself, drew her imagery from the rivers and bridges that permeate the city, ever educating her audience as I finally learned the meaning of the words “Slaw Rebchuk.” Her description of “bone deep cold” invoked a plethora of sense memories that I am all too proud to have experienced.

In the mystery of the gigantic, looming edifice of the yet incomplete Human Rights Museum, France Adams offered a take on its forthcoming impact. While we continue to wonder at what the building will look like on the inside, Adams revealed both the frailty potential in human communion, cleverly questioning as well as reinforcing the idea of us being a “Friendly Manitoba” for future generations. 

Well after sunset, yet warmed by each other’s company and fine literary works, Niigaan Sinclair ended the evening by answering a question that had been on my mind: What is this place? In seamless Anishinabeg storytelling tradition, Sinclair unraveled the mystery of the place I had come to visit since I was a teenager. During what seemed like a completely improvised “reading,” I was a six-year old boy, enamoured with the stories and meanings of words like “Manitou” and “Oodena.”

In case you didn’t know, Oodena refers to the centre or heart, in this case, of the city, where life, music and stories emanate from. What a better place for citizens of Winnipeg to rediscover the centre within themselves, to identify and be identified as of this place where two rivers meet. Especially is the case for one who has recently returned from afar, whose centre is beating ever so clearly now, so real.

Performance, Poetry, and Seventeen Syllables

By Colin Ward

At the Free Press Cafe on Saturday night the Thin Air Writers Festival held "Forewords," a night of performance, poetry, literature and, above all, humour. Normally, crowd control isn't a problem at readings. This one was filled beyond capacity.

Dylan Mowatt rapped an ode to the indigent:  "Give change to the homeless man and ask him what change means."

Next up were the soft romantic musings of Faisa.  The first was a recent effort read off a cell phone.  All of the other poems were performed.

Third came J-La, whose fast paced verse was as graphic as it was autobiographic.

The fourth slam team member was the master, Aaron Simm.  He related a narrative of a boxer ignoring bloodthirsty fans, taking it easy on a beaten opponent.  "Love is not a knockout," he sighed.  "It's in letting the other person walk away."

#1 slammer Steve Currie [w]rapped up the poetry performances with a prison tale, speaking of "...poor custody of dreams." 

"We prefer to stay lost, like Pluto," he intoned, going on to reference "Jovian Jehovian might."

After a break, "Husk" author Corey Redekop gave new meaning to the expression "toilet humour" with his story of gay zombie actor Sheldon Funk.

Capping off a fun evening was the Haiku Death Match:  4 poets telling 17-syllable jokes.  One excerpt mentioned:  "I wrote a telegram to Stephen Harper:  Stop."  U.S. politicians escaped unscathed.  (To wit, no one went with:  "Hoople:  defined as 'rootless', 'disorganized', 'twit'.  Thus, 'Mitt the Hoople'.")

Thanks to the venue workers, participants and organizers, especially Director Charlene Diehl and Master of Ceremonies Bruce Symaka, for a fun evening!

…When Your Mother’s in the Audience

THIN AIR2012's ForeWords Event

by Steve Locke

Saturday night, the Winnipeg International Writer’s Festival kicked off with a sold-out, raucous event that busted a few stitches, and surprisingly enough for some of the performers (myself included), did not result in any audience member’s indignation at our very low-brow humour. Judging by the fits of laughter, Winnipeg, your mind is in the gutter.

THIN AIR2012's ForeWords event filled up faster than an N*Sync album signing, where ticket holders were locked in to enjoy performances by Winnipeg’s Poetry Slam Team, a reading by ex-Pegger Corey Redekop from his zombie novel, “Husk,” as well as the festival’s inaugural Haiku Death Match. With the doors shut and a SOLD OUT sign Jiffy marker’d and taped to the window, this meant that unfortunate stragglers had to be turned away. But given the Cheshire grin worn by festival director Charlene Diehl throughout the evening, this will not be the only event of its kind.

Perhaps on part due to the affable hosting talents of Bruce Symaka, the largely “mature” audience was on board from the get-go. More intense and animated than your traditional poetry reading, none held back, unleashing bad puns, cuss words, and sometimes violent imagery to an unshaken crowd, which, to their credit, prepared them for what was to come.

This meant that local slam team, Steve Currie, Aaron, J-La, Faiza, and Dylan Mowatt and could take a break from their competition-style poetry to flex their performance muscles on home turf. On their first go as a team, these unassuming pedestrians have risen above the curb to distill our city’s ongoing story into five distinct voices, each one confident and eager to represent Winnipeg next month at the Canadian Festival of Spoken Word in Saskatoon.

After a snack provided by the Free Press Café staff, another unassuming pedestrian, Corey Redekop took to the stage with a reading of his unorthodox and impeccably vulgar zombie novel. Taking a step away from the traditional zombie forms employed in modern films, we follow a struggling Toronto actor as he undergoes an unsettling life and death transition while determined to make an impression at his next audition. When you consider that death results in the complete loss of human dignity, Redekop provides unparalleled descriptions of bodily functions in the most awkward and disarming situations, including a failed attempt to use a lavatory on a moving bus, where the speaker became “the astronaut of the loo.” Use your imagination, folks.

 What a better set-up for the festival’s first Haiku Death Match, where beyond the application of a seventeen-syllable structure, the deeply philosophical poetic style was utterly butchered with the best intentions in mind. Here, four competitors including Aaron Simm of the slam team, two drunken louts (again, myself included) and Corey Redekop himself, went head-to-head in rapid-fire succession. Each round of short form tomfoolery progressed with the audience employing paper plates to vote on their favourite “haiku”. Congratulations go to Death Match Champion, the ineffable Matthew Moskal.

I can say that the personal highlights of the death match include the banter of my fellow performers, watching Corey Redekop double over in laughter onstage, and his perfuse apologies to his mother who was largely un-phased by the nasty offerings (which says a lot about that family). Oh, and how can I forget that certain haiku involving a rooster and a vacuum cleaner?

Again folks, use your imaginations. And keep your minds in the gutter, eh?