Author Archives: Andrea

“Rapid reads” convey deep meaning

Stolen
By John Wilson
Orca Book Publishers, 119 pages,  $9.95

Him Standing
By Richard Wagamese
Raven Books, 129 pages, $9.95

Reviewed by Marcie Gray

Ever start a book and then put it down for so long that when you pick it up again, you have to reread the beginning? Ever take a book out of the library and discover it’s due back before you’ve flipped it open? I’m guilty on both counts. I’ve read gorgeous books in fits and starts, all the while knowing that I’m missing out – that the book is not getting the attention it deserves, that  its beauty is betrayed by the cracking of its cadence.

What can I say? Life interferes with good books. Orca Book Publishers recognizes this and offers rewarding alternatives for those pressed for time, and for those pressed for interest. Reluctant readers, young people reading below their grade level, newcomers who are learning English as a second language. You can hand them a classic and hope it enthrals, but 300 pages and a dictionary later, odds are you’ve lost them. Better, perhaps, to offer a quick and entertaining book that will help the reader gain confidence and go on to the next novel.

Two books released this spring hit that mark. Stolen, written by John Wilson, is part of the “Orca Currents” series, aimed at middle-school students falling behind in their reading skills. Him Standing, by Richard Wagamese, belongs to the “Rapid Reads” series, targeting an adult audience.  It’s published by Raven Books, which is an imprint of Orca.

In Stolen, a Canadian boy named Sam arrives on the southern coast of Australia. He’s pulled into a mystery involving shipwrecks and stolen artifacts and international art thieves. The pace is quick and the language simple. This is a plot-driven, character-light whodunit where young protagonists use logic to solve the mystery and become the heroes of the hour. (Or perhaps two hours–that’s about how long it took to read this book.) This is not criticism; rather, I’d expect this book to engage young readers as they follow Sam’s escapades over the course of just two days.

Orca, based in Victoria, shows it’s treating these “rapid reads” seriously by turning to authors with solid track records. Wilson, a Lantzville writer, has written nearly 40 books, both fiction and non-fiction, many of them for young people. Wagamese, the author of Him Standing, has a remarkable resume as an award-winning author and journalist. He’s Ojibway, originally from Northwestern Ontario, now living in Kamloops.

Wagamese’s culture is front and centre in his story of a young man with a magic of his own. Lucas Smoke carves images in wood. His grandfather taught him, but Lucas is a natural. He faces danger when a stranger spots his talent and hires Lucas to carve a spirit mask. Wagamese dips into deep issues such as balance in the universe and the power of fear, and wraps them up into a mystical story that clips along and clocks in at 129 pages. An impressive feat. Also impressive is the voice he creates for Lucas; the young man’s internal dialogue feels genuine throughout.

Stolen and Him Standing are great at what they are meant to do–engage readers and keep them hooked to the (quickly nearing) end. They accomplish another task too–they make you want to read more. Next on my reading list: other works by Wilson and Wagamese.

Marcie Gray’s resume includes years spent reporting and producing for CBC Radio. Today she’s working on her own novel of youth fiction.

Leduc’s risks work brilliantly

The Miracles of Ordinary Men
By Amanda Leduc
ECW Press, 321 pages, $18.95
 
Reviewed by Jenny Boychuk

Amanda Leduc’s debut novel, The Miracles of Ordinary Men, follows the lives of Delilah Greene, a young receptionist, and Sam, a thirty-something school teacher. The novel is written in parts and switches back and forth between the two characters; each of their stories unfolds separately over the course of ten chapters—until, inevitably, they meet each other.

Or perhaps it’s not the heartbreak that scares her, but the possibility. The possibility of a heart more than whole, or a life that reaches so far beyond what’s expected that you can’t see where it ends and forever begins.

***

“I wanted a small life,” Sam said, his voice low. The chance to touch a few lives, to love them deeply and carefully and well. To make mistakes and claw back from them a broken, humbled man, fusing back together.

Lilah left home as soon as she could to travel the world, leaving behind her dysfunctional mother and much younger brother, Timothy, who misses her terribly while she’s away. A decade or so later, Timothy is living on the streets of Vancouver and Lilah spends her afternoons looking for him. When she finds him, she tries to convince him to come home with her, to come see their dying mother who constantly worries about him. Timothy insists that Lilah doesn’t understand him, though the siblings’ love for each other is never in doubt. One afternoon, Lilah’s boss, Israel Riviera, asks her to dinner. This marks the beginning of an abusive relationship in which Lilah is confronted with her guilt, and seeks penance in every crack of Israel’s whip.

Meanwhile, Sam wakes one morning to find he has wings, which continue to develop over the course of a week. Few people can see the wings: a few priests, his cat, and one of his students. When he goes to a doctor, she tells him she can only see deep scars in his back. Then his mother dies unexpectedly. Sam, desperate for answers, reaches out to Father Jim, and alcoholic and the priest of his church when he was growing up. After the funeral, they spend their days questioning God, faith and the fine line between what makes a miracle and what makes a curse.

“You’ll know.” Father Jim reached across and took Sam’s plate and stacked it on top of his own. “And as to what you’ll do—well, that’s different, according to each and every man. Some of us are called to action and others to observe.”

Though the two stories read quite separately in the beginning, they come together masterfully in the end. Leduc’s choice of structure is risky, and it works.

Perhaps the novel’s greatest strength lies in which questions it seeks to answer and which it does not. What is the link between pain and the divine? Guilt and God? What are we meant to see, and what form does God take (if any)? Leduc never answers questions bigger than her characters—a humble and essential quality of the story.

Leduc has reimagined the homeless Vancouver street kid, the parent dying of cancer, the receptionist waiting for something bigger to happen. She has created characters we’ve met many times, but have never seen like this.

The poet Jack Gilbert wrote a poem in which there is the line, “Stripping everything down until being was visible.” This is exactly what Leduc has accomplished in this heartbreaking novel. And God, did she do it well.

Jenny Boychuk is a Victoria writer and reviewer.

The Stanza Project

The Stanza Project Book Launch & Reading
Wednesday, June 19, 8 pm
Brickhouse Bar, 730 Main Street, Vancouver
Accessible, free, everyone welcome.

Thursdays Writing Collective launches The Stanza Project, its 6th book of creative writing by Downtown Eastside writers. The 108 page, perfect-bound anthology is a collaboration with Dutch architect MLP Proosten and uses architectural and literary space to think about ideas of home.

Contributors include: Antonette Rea, Anupam Singhal, Cathy Truong, Elee Kraljii Gardiner, Erol Almelek, Ghia Aweida, Henry Doyle, Irit Shimrat, James McLean, Joan Morelli, Leroy Jongeling, Mark Proosten, Matt Malyon, Mohamed Helaly, Patrick Foley, Phoenix Winter, Robyn Livingstone, Roger Stewart, Ruth Dato.

Come celebrate with us and hear selected readers. Also, Mark Proosten will be in attendance!

Sales of the book ($15) support Thursdays Writing Collective.

Join the event on Facebook.

Artist brings new light to the Raven legend

Raven Brings the Light
By Roy Henry Vickers and Robert Budd
Harbour Publishing, 48 pages, $19.95

Reviewed by Susan Hawkins

Occasionally, a story comes along that resonates throughout generations regardless of age, belief, or cultural and national identity. How the Raven brought light to the world is one of those stories. Celebrated First Nations artist and storyteller Roy Henry Vickers has teamed up with his good friend and historian Robert “Lucky” Budd to create a book based on the millennia-old story. It belongs to the people of the Northwest Coast and has been passed along in the oral tradition for thousands of years.  This new book tells the story with text and eighteen stunning new images.

As the legend goes, at a time when darkness blanketed the land, a boy named Weget is born who is destined to bring the light back to the Earth. With the aid of a raven skin, Weget journeys to the sky where he tricks the Chief of the Heavens and steals back the daylight and returns it to Earth. The legend has been traced back at least 3,000 years and images of Weget’s journey have been found in petroglyphs along the Skeena and Nass Rivers. This version of the story was told to Vickers when he was a teenager by Chester Bolton, Chief of the Ravens, from the village of Kitkatla around 1975.

“I’ve heard it since I was a very, very young man, so it has been part of my life,” Vickers said in a recent CBC radio interview. “And now as an elder, I see that it’s not only the physical light of the sun that it talks about, but it’s a spiritual light. It’s the light of truth. And because I’m about living my life as truthfully as possible this is the story I chose to put into this book.”

Raven Brings the Light is a stunningly beautiful book, and according to Robert Budd, is only the first in a series of traditional stories to be developed by this accomplished duo.

Roy Henry Vickers unveiled his large collection of new prints at Raven Brings the Light: A Roy Henry Vickers Art Show & Book Launch with Robert “Lucky” Budd, at Madrona Gallery, Contemporary and Historic Canadian Art, 606 View Street, Victoria in May.

Susan Hawkins is completing her PhD in History in Art at the University of Victoria. 

Stigma Stomp Day

Stigma Stomp Day
Friday, June 14, 12-3 pm
Centennial Square, Victoria

Stigma exists in the world because of a lack of understanding and knowledge.

Come celebrate a day free of stigma at the 2nd Annual Stigma Stomp Day! Join in the fun with an afternoon of live music, inspiring speakers, and awesome T-shirts–First 200 T-shirts are FREE!

For more info, email stigmastompday@shaw.ca.

Old-fashioned Russians steep in the blues

Uncle Vanya
Written by Anton Chekhov
Directed by Brian Richmond
Blue Bridge Repertory Theatre
@ the McPherson Playhouse
Until June 16th

Reviewed by Leah Callen

In Uncle Vanya, life is a painful operation that begs for morphine, and the woods are heavy with sadness. When a famous professor and his young wife arrive on their Russian country estate, the locals lose their minds. Melancholy catches on among the forest inmates.  These human shadows squint psychologically through darkness, pining for light to brighten their dull lives. Drunk on vodka and unrequited desire, these Russians moan and steep in their misery. When tempted by romantic risks and revenge, some decide that living on a ledge is better than dying of boredom.

As the matriarch Marina pours the tea, characters boil over and grow cold. The doctor Astrov feels as numb to joy as a patient who has been chloroformed. Jacob Richmond plays his drunken scenes with an entertaining abandon and I feared for his safety as he balanced precariously on furniture. As self-righteous Sonya, Casey Austin portrays a pragmatic idealist, invisible to all the bachelors because of her plain face.  She often brings out the best in people with her simple purity, but develops a weary patina over time that is fatalistic. She really just wants to be loved.

Vanya despairs that he has wasted his life and wants to do something about it. Duncan Ollerenshaw’s performance ranges from subtle to over-the-top. Drowning in a deep midlife crisis, Vanya is attracted to the red flash of Yelena’s hair as she graces an outdoor swing like a rare songbird. Amanda Lisman was beautiful as the free spirit desperate for passion to heat her lukewarm life. She suffers from a loveless marriage, unable to spread her wings in her marital cage.  Her controlling husband Serebyakov, played by Chris Britton, was both starchy and wilting as he rules the roost with his whims. When Yelena broke down, I cried too. I wanted her to be free. This actress emoted even when she had no words.

The birch-coloured costumes blended elegantly with the set; characters were human trees cutting one another down. Their clothing had a nineteenth-century uniformity, but over time it struck me as olden-day beige–a symbol of hopeless ennui. Only Yelena wears some sky blue when she tries to soar, or maybe it’s the sea since the men see her as a siren. The diffuse lighting, Russian chant, and hints of guitar brew up potent atmosphere. Uncle Vanya seems more driven by mood than plot. This play creeps inside you like nightfall as the birches grow from gentle to suffocating.

The stage bloomed with visual metaphors: the winding of yarn as characters discuss fate, the unloved Sonya embracing roses that were given to another woman, Vanya pushing the swing of the woman he’s trying to seduce.  A touching moment arose when two women share a cup of wine, a peacemaking communion. However, I struggled with how abruptly chaos explodes on stage later. The sudden intensity of the most dramatic scene seemed slightly comical. Though I enjoyed the emotional fireworks, it was a touch melodramatic.  Still, the plot is perfectly frustrating in this forest of futility.

Chekhov’s moody masterpiece is deeply poetic, but it also made me laugh. It was both darker and lighter than I imagined–a theatrical chiaroscuro. Perhaps only a Russian writes that our best hope is to dream in our coffins. One can’t help feeling that these people bury themselves alive. They think goodness equals boredom and only destruction leads to joy, that life is a dull pain to be endured until it’s over. I wanted to shake them out of their emotional comas or prescribe them anti-depressants–to beg them not to give up on happiness. Perhaps that was Chekhov’s point. And I really wanted a shot of vodka when the play was over.

Leah Callen is a budding poet-playwright-screenwriter in Victoria.

White Hot Jet’s (skillfully) bizarre debut

White Hot Jet
Rehab Nightclub, Victoria BC
June 7, 2013

 Reviewed by Blake Morneau

I was filled with an unhealthy dose of skepticism as I walked into Rehab nightclub for the unveiling of new all-girl rock band White Hot Jet–after all, the press release I received stated that the band was put together through auditions by local producer and songwriter James Kasper (who has also written the bulk of the band’s music to this point), where he “cast” Animal Amber (drums), Messica Wild (guitar), Jillian Drayz (bass/lead vocals), Jennie Boomboom (lead vocals) and Courtney LeStrange (guitar). It wasn’t only the idea of a male setting out to build an all-girl band which made me a little uncomfortable, but of a band built by a mastermind. This goes against nearly everything I’ve been taught to believe in regards to honest, pure music. But playing their first show months after the audition process began must be a wholly exciting time for White Hot Jet, so I assured myself over and over I would go in with an open heart and mind, ready to honestly embrace whatever I saw on the stage.

White Hot Jet kicked off after what can only be called “The Great Raffle Disaster of 2013,” which left the band standing awkwardly on the stage, filling with impatience as ticketholder after ticketholder abandoned their door prizes and chose to remain silent. It was an auspicious start to say the least.

The band’s strength is danceable power-pop that lies somewhere between The Donnas and Metric. The first track they played, their first single “Never Comin’ Down,” is a piece of pop-rock clearly written as an introduction to the group that features singer Jennie Boomboom declaring the band’s name as the hook drops. “I’m a white hot jet, I go the speed of the sound!” I didn’t like it when Bad Company did it, and I can’t say I really like it any more now.

All competent players, the women of White Hot Jet can kick out a jam, no doubt. This is tight, lean music, devoid of filler. I would have liked to see more guitar solos (with two guitars playing this kind of music, the solos seem sort of requisite) and maybe a longer appearance of the accordion, briefly played by Messica Wild. This would have prevented it from feeling like some bizarre, out of place gimmick. Really, these are minor things that any new band goes through. There’s always room for growth.

As this was the band’s debut, no one knew the songs they were playing but people seemed to be digging it. The crowd was ecstatic as the Jet broke out a pretty raucous cover of Adele’s all-too-covered hit “Rolling in the Deep,” a song that really needs to not be covered any more, by anyone. It seems a strange choice, if not just an all-too-easy choice, for a band trying to establish their identity to choose such an iconic pop song as their lone cover. The crowd was eager and appreciative to hear a song they knew and it would have been an ideal closing track. Playing such a heavy-hitting and, more importantly, familiar, song in the middle of their set seemed to suck some of the energy out of the remaining songs. After those final few songs the concert ended as abruptly as I have ever seen with simply the proclamation “Thanks. We’re done.” Hold for the audience’s awkward befuddlement. I still haven’t gotten over mine.

Blake Morneau is a lover of aural pleasure who has been writing about his passion for nearly two years. Follow him on Twitter @MusicRags

Film weakened by force-fed poignancy

Shiawase no taiko o hibikasete: Inclusion
Directed by Ken’ichi Oguri
Canadian premiere, Eric Martin Theatre
May 29, 2013

Reviewed by Joshua Zapf.

The Canadian premiere of  Ken’ichi Oguri’s Shiawase no taiko o hibikasete: Inclusion was hosted by Friends of Music Society, an organization that offers “partnership-based music programs to build relationships between people with mental illness and those without.” Inclusion follows a Japanese drum troupe (Zuiho Taiko) composed of players with mental disabilities who find “creative independence” through music.

Before any preconceived notions of inability can be summoned, the opening to Inclusion informs the viewer that this troop plays 130 concerts a year–a glorious achievement, but one that leaves no room for the viewer to settle into the movie before Ken’ichi fills scenes with poignant and bittersweet displays of kindness and achievement. This style of force-fed moments of warmth, affection, and modesty mostly resolve the movie’s conclusion without even having made it 45 minutes in.

That is not to say that there isn’t a power to Ken’ichi Oguri’s decision to display compassion; the film exudes genuine emotion all the way from the small Nagasaki prefecture in Unzen City, to the troupe being discovered and coached by a famous Taiko performer to competing in the Tokyo International Taiko Contest.

Despite the temporal transitions, Inclusion never skips a motivational beat. Most members of Zuhio Taiko were ostracised, institutionalized, and perceived as people who could not achieve something worthwhile. It is clearly Ken’ichi Ogrui’s desire to show that those with mental disabilities can lead normal family lives, as the film enters the drummers’ homes at every opportunity. These moments when the camera entered the homes always felt heavy handed with shots that linger and probe as though waiting to find something specific rather than just tell the story as it happened.

Without ruining the film, there are moments that evoke paternal instincts to protect those that seem to need defending. While this is effective in reaffirming that people with disabilities should not be approached as “functioning disabled people, but seen as a member of society,” the movie fails in its zealous attempt to cast the members of Zuiho Taiko in any role other than brow-beaten drummer. Even though time is spent with the family of the Zuiho Taiko’s leader, the documentary devotes most of its time to reproducing scenes of social stigma.

Still, much of Inclusion is bursting with humor and sincerity. There is a beautiful story hidden within: a vocational rehabilitation centre full of people institutionalized for their mental disabilities. A director who asked residents if they were happy received a resounding “Yes.” That same director who shut the facility down after hearing that the only thing in the world the residents wanted was to leave.

This juxtaposition of honest storytelling to directed moments of tension is counterintuitive to the crux of the film: “The world is more beautiful when the world is in harmony.” It muddles the achievements of the Zuiho Taiko drum troupe. I’m left wondering, are we to feel sad for these people who lead mostly ordinary lives or bask in how they’ve mastered something that others would only dream of?

Despite its weaknesses, the movie is a success. If you’ve watched and enjoyed small documentary films before then Inclusion will leave you feeling hopeful. Moreover, those with a penchant for documentaries that fall outside the “norm,” will be smitten by the warm sentiment and strong narration.

However, if you’re used to the types of documentaries that spring up around Oscar season with vivid production value and a distinctly unabridged story, then Ken’ichi Oguri’s Inclusion is not for you.

Duo offers plant-collectors’ delight

Pursuing the Wild: The Sichuan Botanical Expedition
Guest Speakers Sue Milliken and Kelly Dodson
Sponsored by Finnerty Gardens Advisory Committee

Reviewed by Susan Hawkins

Gardeners in the Pacific Northwest often favour eclectic kinds of gardens. Our temperate, water-abundant environment supports a dizzying array of unusual plants, both indigenous and exotic. Recently, in the University of Victoria’s David Lam auditorium, rare plant collectors and breeders Sue Milliken and Kelly Dodson treated local plant and garden enthusiasts, a group in which I include myself, to a presentation that featured both rare and exotic. Milliken and Dodson are of that unusual breed of phytomaniacs, the plant collector. Plant collectors are intrepid explorers–men and women who traverse often-inhospitable terrain to be the first to find, document, collect and botanize previously unknown plant specimens.

Milliken and Dodson are the proprietors of Far Reaches Farm, a rare plant speciality nursery located in Port Townsend, Washington, where they grow and market a wide variety of plants that are particularly well suited to regional growing conditions. Their most recent plant-collecting excursion, joined by well-known plantsman and plant hunter Peter Cox, led them to the misty mountain ranges of China’s Sichuan region, seeking seeds and cuttings from a variety of new or uncommon species of rhododendrons, primulas and ferns. Their presentation paired over one hundred images with fascinating stories of botanical exploration and inspired a number of collective oohs and aahs from the enthusiastic audience. In addition, Milliken and Dodson work closely with the Friends of Finnerty Gardens, providing new plant stock for the ever-expanding rhododendron and plant collection.

Currently, the native habitat for rhododendrons is disappearing fast, and the status of many species in the wild is uncertain. As part of their occupation and nursery, this dedicated couple work to preserve rare plant species and their threatened habitats.  Milliken and Dodson’s passion for plants was both contagious and inspiring. Their presentation was immensely informative and conveyed an understanding of the value for preserving rare plant species and the habitats that sustain them.

The rhododendrons are currently in bloom in Finnerty Gardens; I highly recommend a visit to view some of the rare and exotic species first hand.

Sue Milliken and Kelly Dodson can be reached at: Far Reaches Farm, Port Townsend, Washington.

Susan Hawkins is a trained gardener completing her History in Art PhD. 

Get kicked in the ears by Blackberry Wood–in a good way

Blackberry Wood
Logan’s Pub, Victoria
June 6, 2013

Reviewed by Blake Morneau

I remember being 11 or 12 years old and seeing the video for Tom Waits’ “I Don’t Wanna Grow Up” and having the image of Waits dressed in his ridiculous devil costume, riding a tricycle and holding a magnifying glass burn itself into my mind. For years that image has represented everything that is good and pure and fun, a treasured frame to remind me of the absurd silliness that enveloped all things. As Blackberry Wood front-man and mustache enthusiast Kris Wood took the stage dressed in an outfit wholly inspired the one worn by Waits in that video, that soul-freeing feeling that image has always brought up was front and center. Really, that’s the best way to see Vancouver alt-country-gypsy-circus outfit Blackberry Wood–with a childlike enthusiasm and boundless imagination.

Blackberry Wood’s energy is unflinchingly infectious, spreading through the room like an amoeba on speed. Drummer Amrit Basi’s rhythms could be considered a sort of aural warfare, forcing people to shake their bodies with reckless abandon. The recently added bass sound really gives the band the bottom-end groove that benefits the danceability aspect of their gypsy swing music. It acts as a sort of musical bouncy-castle for the rest of the group to jump off of. Hearing all these elements come together for an incredible reading of the haunting jazz standard “Saint James Infirmary” is a real wonder. Infecting such a legendarily song with their trademark joy and energy without taking away any of the song’s inherent eeriness is a feat of musical agility and precision.

There were people on the dance floor much quicker than I usually see at shows. At nearly every show I’ve been to, even those in smaller venues, the trickle to the area in front of the stage is slow, with nobody wanting to be first to initiate the festivities. I don’t know if it was the crowd this night or the magically contagious spirit of Blackberry Wood (I’d like to believe it was the latter), but by the end of the opening song more than half the people in the house were shaking their groove-things wildly. Admittedly, I was one of the first people out there, finding myself quickly surrounded by fellow body-shakers.

It was all of a bit of whirlwind–a mass of sweaty, smiling bodies jumping and flailing to the sounds of a band oozing psychotic energy. If you don’t like dancing and prefer your music subdued with space for quiet clapping and reflection, you may want to skip Blackberry Wood. But if you’re like me, and apparently the patrons of Logan’s, and you like to get kicked in the ears, get yourself to a Blackberry Wood show as soon as you can. Your musical soul will thank you.

Blake Morneau is a lover of aural pleasure who has been writing about his passion for nearly two years. Follow him on Twitter @MusicRags