A DoLL's House

CBU English Video

2011-12-12T05:33:00.000-08:00

Check out our new video on Youtube, complete with original music by Hinson Calabrese.

CBU English Student a Finalist in International Teleplay Competition

2011-10-05T10:06:00.000-07:00

Cape Breton University Honours English Student Stephen MacNeil has been named a finalist in the Creative World Awards Screenwriting and Teleplay competition. MacNeil, a Bachelor of Arts (Honours) English student, was honoured in the existing sitcom category for his hilarious spec script for the CBS hit The Big Bang Theory.

The Creative World Awards is an international competition based in Los Angeles. Its goal is to recognize up and coming talent and encourage writing within the film and television industry. Submitted works must be produced by amateurs, and be written in English. The competition is considered by many to be one of the leading screenplay and teleplay competitions in the world with participation from some of the major production companies in the industry.

In 2008, MacNeil’s spec script for film, The Last Anzian, reached the quarter-finals in the Austin Film Festival drama category, and this year, the same script placed as a preliminary finalist in the Creative World Awards action/adventure category in their feature screenplay competition.

MacNeil is currently in the last year of his degree at CBU and plans on earning a Master’s degree in English with a focus on creative writing to help him in pursuing his interests in film, television, and literature.

Meet Dana Mount!

2011-08-30T05:58:00.000-07:00

I spend my few bits of free time these days dreaming up reading lists for my future courses. A reading list is a lot like a playlist: you want it to have a theme, a mood. It should excite people, and maybe even surprise them. But you don’t want to hear my playlists, because I’m pretty hopeless when it comes to music, really. What I do know is books. More specifically (because by this point in our education and careers, we professors get pretty specific), I know postcolonial environmental literature.

I’m Dana Mount, and I’m (delighted to be!) the new professor in World and Indigenous Literatures here at CBU. I’ll tell you a bit about how I came to be where I am today. It’s a story of someone who tried to avoid studying English but kept coming back to it.

Upon leaving high school I was pretty determined to Save the Planet. I enrolled in the Bachelor of Environmental Studies program at York University where I met a bunch of wonderful people who were also pretty determined to Save the Planet. Turns out many of them had a lot more hands-on determination than me. I kept gravitating towards questions about why we were in the state of crisis that we were in, what informed our attitudes towards the environment.

My focus on cultural attitudes towards the environment led me to want to study theories of power and structure in society. I undertook a Masters of Arts in the School of Women’s Studies, also at York University. There I studied theories of race and racism, labour history, gender and sexuality, global development and politics. I met a lot of inspiring people who are working to end oppression.

Throughout these two degrees, though, what sustained me was being able to take courses on literature where I could finally see these larger ideas being expressed, argued, and illuminated in ways theory alone was unable to do. I signed on for a PhD in the Department of English and Cultural Studies at McMaster University. I met a lot of people who are passionate about reading and who believe in the power of writing. There I combined my interest in world and indigenous issues, environmentalism, and literature.

And it is that combination that I bring with me here at CBU. Next year I hope to be offering courses in postcolonial literature and theory. I’m working on the reading list right now, and yes, I take requests. Feel free to drop by (CC228) or email me, dana_mount@cbu.ca.

New French Courses

2011-08-15T11:40:00.001-07:00

FRNC 3701: L’Acadie/Acadia: Translating Literature and Culture
Instructor: Dr. Richard Marchand
Frnc 3701 is an interdisciplinary approach to the study of Acadian culture, its history, language and literature (in the original and in translation). The course will include historical material (Naomi Griffiths – Contexts of Acadian History 1686-1784) revealing both English and French Colonial attitudes and the realities of the Acadian “nation” through the ages. The literary investigation will follow with a focus on poetry (Reves Inachevees – Unfinished Dreams: contemporary Poetry of Acadia), drama (Maillet – La Sagouine) and the novel (Maillet Pelagie la Charette), in the original texts but with English translations for support, although the classroom discussions will be primarily in French. We will also look at the difficulties of translation when what might be called “regional works” are involved.

FRNC 3703: Innovation & Variation in French/Francophone Literature
Instructor: Dr. Bernard Mulo Farenkia
The course will look at forms and functions of innovative language usages (e.g. code-switching, semantic shift, loan word, calquing) and regional variations in the works of some contemporary French / francophone writers (e.g. Ahmadou Kourouma, Yves Viollier, Mongo Beti, Camara Laye, Patrice Nganang, Ferdinand Oyono, Joseph Zobel, etc.). We will further discuss translation difficulties of “regional language usages” and comment on some translation techniques adopted in the English versions of the original texts.

New Course Description Information for 2011-2012

2011-07-07T07:50:00.000-07:00

Looking for detailed information on English, French, or Drama courses for the coming year?

Find all the answers in this handy PDF!

Jesse Ferguson talks about his upcoming creative writing workshop

2011-04-19T06:09:00.000-07:00

Jesse Patrick Ferguson currently lives in Sydney, Cape Breton, with his wife and son. Jesse has published poetry and reviews in ten countries, in both print and online formats. Recently, his poems have appeared in Canadian Literature, Prairie Fire, The Walrus, Poetry Ireland Review, Poetry and Harper’s. His work also appears in the anthologies Best Canadian Poetry, 2009 and Rogue Stimulus. Jesse has been a poetry editor for The Fiddlehead and for several other Canadian literary journals. In 2009, Freehand Books published his first full-length poetry collection, Harmonics.

In this one-day workshop, we will explore the craft of poetry writing, within a fun and casual atmosphere. We will discuss some of the basics of poetry (meter, rhyme, metaphor, form, etc.), and in order to reinforce these basics, we will read some classic poems.

Our next task will be to workshop (share/edit) our own poetry. Participants will have the opportunity to share their poems and to receive constructive feedback. Participation is therefore encouraged, but not mandatory.

Finally, the class will discuss how to successfully send poetry out for publication in magazines, e-zines and/or books. Students of all experience levels are welcome, though some experience of writing poems is preferable (please bring them if you have any).

In this course you can expect to become a better writer and reader of poetry, gain confidence in your writing and ideas, learn how to get published, and, of course, have fun!

See the Cabot Trail Writers Fest website for further details.

Celebration!

2011-04-05T08:36:00.000-07:00

Please join the Department of Languages and Letters on Friday, April 8 as it celebrates student scholarship in literature and writing. The event will be held in Multi-Purpose Room B. A light lunch will be provided. Please join us as we celebrate student achievement.

Schedule of Events

11:00a.m.: Honours Thesis Presentations by Kyle Capstick and Brittany Harnum

12:00: Awarding of Shauna Gillis Prizes for outstanding literary essays in upper-year and first-year categories, and the Mary Keshen Prize for composition.

The short-listed candidates for the Prizes are:

Shauna Gillis Prize
Upper year category: Kyle Capstick, Stephen MacNeil, Mary Vickers

First year category: Carl Kooka, Parker MacNeil, Sarah Penney, Chantelle Zawila

Mary Keshen Prize: Shawn P. Aucoin, Alyssa Kowalczyk, Patricia McCann

12:30 p.m.: Information Session on Upper-year English Courses for the 2011-12 Academic Year.

The Department would also like to thank the Dean of the School of Arts and Social Sciences, Norton Publishers, Pearson Education, Broadview Press, and Oxford UP for their donations and support.

Virtual Vern

2011-02-14T06:49:00.000-08:00

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 15
1:00-2:00pm
Sydney Credit Union Room CE-265

A Video Conference with Vern Thiessen

Vern Thiessen is one of Canada's most produced playwrights. He has written for stage, radio and television. His stage plays have been seen across Canada, the US and Europe, including Shakespeare's Will, Apple, Einstein's Gift, Blowfish, The Resurrection Of John Frum and Vimy.

Thiessen is the recipient of numerous awards, including the Elizabeth Sterling Haynes Award for Outstanding New Play, The City of Edmonton Arts Achievement Award, the University of Alberta Alumni Award for Excellence, The Canadian Jewish Playwriting Competition, and the Governor General's Literary Award, Canada's highest honour for playwriting. He has also been shortlisted for the prestigious Siminovitch Prize in Theatre.

Thiessen received is BA from the University of Winnipeg and an MFA from the University of Alberta. He has served as Playwright in Residence at Workshop West Theatre (where he founded the Playwrights Garage program), and the Citadel Theatre in Edmonton. He is a Past President of both the Playwrights Guild of Canada and the Writer's Guild of Alberta.

Anyone is welcome to attend. To post questions in advance, visit the Facebook Event Page: CBU Vern Thiessen Video Conference.

[Thanks to Scott Sharplin for this information and for organizing the event.]

Boardmore Playhouse 40th Anniversary Lecture Series

2011-01-13T12:26:00.000-08:00

Who doesn’t love a great lecture- especially one with swordplay and a bouncy, up tune?

To celebrate 40 years of groundbreaking, artistic, and academic accomplishments in theatre, CBU Boardmore Theatre, in conjunction with the School of Arts and Social Sciences, present a lecture series like no other. The Anniversary Lectures are part lecture, part play, part story, part song and dance, and all entertainment. Join us at the Boardmore for a rousing look at our theatre through the past four decades.

For a complete schedule visit http://bit.ly/fqZOS3.

It's Award Season at CBU English!

2011-01-07T12:39:00.001-08:00

The Shauna Gillis Prize

The Department of Languages and Letters awards annual prizes for student essays on literary topics. The annual prizes are named in honour of the late Shauna Gillis, a UCCB English graduate.

Two categories to enter:
» First-year course
» Upper year course

To be eligible, papers must have been submitted for credit in an English course (English 200 or above) between January 4, 2010 and January 31, 2011. You do not have to be in any specific program.

Winners will receive a certificate, a book prize, and a modest cash award.

To enter: 1. Provide a clean, unmarked paper copy of your essay. The paper itself should include the title, but should not include your name or any other identifying information. Students may revise their papers before submitting them for judging, or they may permit instructors to submit essays on their behalf.
2. Include a cover letter indicating your name, address, telephone number, the title of your essay, and the category you are entering.
Deadline for submissions is February 1, 2011. Submit essays to Nat Leach in CC-275, drop them off at the mailroom, or mail electronically to nat_leach@cbu.ca.
For more information, call Nat Leach at 563-1127, or email him at nat_leach@cbu.ca. Or contact any of your English professors for a more detailed explanation of the process.
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The Mary Keshen English Prize

The Department of Languages and Letters is awarding a prize for achievement in the English 100 series composition courses, English 101, English 105, and English 109.
Named after Mary Keshen, who taught English composition at Cape Breton University for many years, the prize will be given out at a special luncheon honouring achievement in student writing at the end of March 2011. The winner will receive a cash prize and a certificate.

To be considered, papers must have been submitted for credit in an English 100 series course sometime between January 2010 and January 2011. Distance Education students enrolled in the English 100 series courses are also eligible to submit. Students do not have to be in any specific program or in any particular year of their degree to enter an essay in the contest.

How to Enter:
Please submit a clean, unmarked paper copy of your essay. Include the title, but not your name or other identifying information. You may revise your paper prior to submitting it. Include a cover letter with your name, address, telephone number, and title of essay. Instructors, with the permission of the student, may submit an essay on a student’s behalf.

The deadline for submissions is January 31, 2011. Submit paper copies or electronic files to Adam Lawrence. Office: C-253; email: adam_lawrence@cbu.ca. For more information, contact Adam Lawrence at the email address provided or call 563-1930.

Director Scott Sharplin talks about Vimy

2010-11-08T04:30:00.000-08:00

Vimy opens Thursday, November 11th at the Boardmore Playhouse.

Here is what DoLL instructor Scott Sharplin had to say about his production of the Vern Thiessen play.
Canada's involvement in World War I marked a turning point in our country's sense of nationhood. Before 67,000 men gave their lives between 1914 and 1918, most Canadians identified more with their countries of ancestral origin; they were immigrant British, Scottish, French, etc. The geography of Canada was simply too huge to be thought of as a cultural unit. But after WWI, and particularly the Battle of Vimy Ridge, Canadians had something in common; they had fought and died together, and this sacrifice transformed a vast, multicultural country into a nation.

Vern Thiessen's play "Vimy" comments on this macrocosmic process in an intimate and highly theatrical way. In a field hospital in France, one sleepless Nova Scotian nurse tends to four wounded Canadian soldiers after the battle for Vimy Ridge. The soldiers, who hail from all corners of Canada, are united not only in their love for Labatt's beer and hockey, but also in their trauma. Using the multiple subjectivity of a postmodern memory play, Thiessen gradually reveals how ordinary men and women followed their dreams into the nightmare of war, losing pieces of themselves even as they become part of a greater cause.

I was born and raised in Alberta, and only recently moved to Cape Breton. In the first year following my arrival, I felt as much culture shock as one would likely feel moving to Europe or Australia. Sometimes, if seemed as if Atlantic Canada had nothing in common with the Prairies, except perhaps a mutual grudge against Ottawa. I suspect my experience is a common one; we tend to notice differences before we spot similarities, and it's easy to get hung up on regional differences, just as we often fall prey to prejudices based on race, religion, sexual orientation, and so on. Fortunately for me, my work on "Vimy" has helped me to identify the fundamental sameness of Canadians from different regions -- not only in 1917, when the play is set, but also in the present day.

Vern Thiessen's portrayal of World War I is unflinching. "Vimy" is neither an anti-war play nor a patriotic piece; instead, it places the horrors of war in the context of memory and imagination, and lets the audience decide if the victory is worth the cost. Although many of the characters reach the story's end without finding closure, it is possible for a modern audience to extrapolate their narratives, and to imagine how these damaged but united veterans, and thousands like them, could return to build a country whose military mandate has predominantly been one of peacekeeping, not conquest.

Just as the soldiers at Vimy had only three months to train for their dangerous mission, this group of young artists has, in three months of rehearsal, gone from rough recruits to skilled and hardy heroes. It has been a privilege to work with such a dedicated and talented cast & crew on my first Boardmore production.

CBU English has a new Facebook page

2010-11-05T10:14:00.000-07:00

Like it now and get regular updates from CBU English!

CBU English

Promote your Page too

Watch this space

2010-10-25T07:20:00.000-07:00

The focus of this blog is expanding beyond ideas and comment and will soon be bringing you the latest news about the DoLL and related events.

Got news? Let us know! Email Todd Pettigrew: todd_pettigrew[at sign]cbu.ca

Featured Blog: James

2010-03-20T09:54:00.000-07:00

Check out English grad James F.W. Thompson and his inimitable blog at The Pudding Store!

Featured Blog: Anthony Casey

2010-03-17T17:38:00.001-07:00

Three cheers for English grad Anthony Casey's blog over at If You Can Hear Me, Clap Your Hands.

Featured Blog: Kyle

2010-03-16T10:44:00.000-07:00

Kyle is an English major at CBU, and he is blogging about the tragedies and triumphs of that mode of life over at the CBU main site. Check it out.

Guest Blogger: College

2009-08-24T11:06:00.000-07:00

Usually I'm not a fan of 'Cape Breton-isms.' For the most part they paint us as some of the more so dimwitted Canadians. Phrases such as “How she goin' bi'?” have always portrayed the idea that we are uneducated, behind the times, and – one of the worst things a location can be – quaint. Oddly, despite my feelings toward these 'isms' I do have a favorite. Equally odd is the fact that it shows all of those stereotypes that I cannot disagree with enough. That ism can be seen in the following example:

Taxi-driver - Where are we headed?
Me - The college.
Taxi-driver - Okay.

Cape Breton University to almost every Cape Bretoner I have ever run into is simply referred to as “the college” including those who are too young to even start thinking about their lives after high-school, those who live out of Cape Breton, those who have never attended CBU, and even those who have pursued post-secondary education at different institutions. I have met countless examples of each of these groups, and they all refer to CBU as “the college.” But, that stands to reason – it IS the college in their hometown.

Only it isn't.

Cape Breton University is, as the third word in the name would indicate, a university. Before it was a university it was a university-college (UCCB). Before it was a university-college it was a college – the College of Cape Breton (if you look around the college even now you can see the old logo from CCB – it's orange and green and looks like a weird box). However, that has not been the case since 1974. That was well before many of the people who call it “the college” were born – myself included. While it may not be a college anymore, I can see the idea – it WAS the only college in the hometown, so it makes sense to call it “THE college.”

Only it isn't.

There have been and still are a number of colleges – actual colleges with the word “college” in the name and everything – around Cape Breton. There's McKenzie College and Breton Beauty College. Cape Breton Business College has been around since 1958. The Canadian Coast Guard College has been around since 1965, and it has never changed the name, never once saying it was anything but a college. None of these schools, as far as I know, are EVER referred to as “the college.” I used to live about three blocks from the Coast Guard College. I went swimming there, used the gym, played in the woods right next to it, and went on various tours of the buildings seeing all the classrooms and everything that made it a college. This did not change the fact that whenever “the college” was talked about, I knew it was in reference to the big building between Sydney and Glace Bay that I had only ever been to once as a child. The Gaelic College – celebrating everything Cape Breton – was founded in 1938 – 13 years before the school that would become “the college” was.

There's even a college with the same driveway as CBU! Nova Scotia Community College, Marconi Campus, has the exact same directions from pretty much any given point however when I am getting a ride to CBU, I am always asked “Which entrance to the college are you going to?” I'll say “the main one.” After turning onto University Blvd. (notice it's not called College Cres. – a dead giveaway that it's not a college) they never turn right to take me to the NSCC; we turn left and go to the university.

So, why do we call a building that is not a college not just “a college” but “the college” - as if it were the definitive college. Maybe we're behind the times with the name. Maybe we're uneducated about the other institutions around Cape Breton. Maybe we're just quaint.

James F.W. Thompson

Coming soon: Guest blogs!

2009-08-24T10:04:00.000-07:00

Keep reading the great posts already here, and stay tuned for a new feature, guest contributions from current students and alumni.

Next month: James F.W. Thompson on "The College."

Are you a current student or almnus or almuna? Want to contribute? Let me know!

Meet Sheila Christie

2009-08-18T09:55:00.000-07:00

I spent a long time thinking about what to write for this blog. When I first offered to contribute a post, I thought I’d give you a brief introduction to my specific area of study, Medieval Drama. A lot has happened since then, however, and I feel that blogs are places where you think through what’s on your mind at the moment. What’s on my mind right now is how I managed to end up in one of the most beautiful parts of Canada, employed in the best job I could imagine. I am alternately terrified and ecstatic, inspired and overwhelmed. One of my new friends, a local educator and artisan, reminded me that a lot of you are coming from someplace new, too, and that you may be feeling some of the same things. You’re embarking on adventures that, like mine, may lead you to unexpected places. You’ve already taken a huge risk in choosing to attend university, gambling a familiar present for an uncertain future. And taking risks is what life is all about – it’s how we grow. So, for my first post on this blog I’m going to take the risk of telling you a bit about myself, about the journey that has brought me to Cape Breton as a teacher and researcher, and about the things I’ve learned along the way.

My name is Sheila Christie. You can call me Dr. Christie, or professor if you want, but I’m most comfortable with first names. You can also make up nicknames, as long as I get veto rights. I’m painfully shy but with enough theatrical training to overcome it most of the time. My favourite classroom experiences are always characterized by real discussion between everyone in the classroom. If you end up in one of my courses, you’ll find I have high standards and a lot to teach you, but I’ll also want to hear what you think, not what you think I want to hear.

My first full time teaching related job was in educational multimedia. Most of the programs I used to work with are obsolete (I coded directly in html, for example), but my understanding of what teaching means was formed there. My job was to absorb information and then figure out the best way to teach it, whether it was lumber grading, electrical safety, or Canadian history. It was good training, and it honed the research and writing skills I’d gained through an honours degree in, you got it, English.

As interesting as the multimedia work was, I knew within a year that I needed to go back to school. I bore easily. I also have a strong work ethic. These qualities occasionally come into conflict, but in this case they gave me the motivation to seek greater challenges. It took me another year to choose and apply to UBC. It was the only school I applied for, an act of potential hubris, but I was accepted, and promptly spent the next two years doubting my own sanity for choosing to do this thing called a master’s degree. I felt constantly out of my depth and I struggled with the material through many sleepless nights, but at the same time some of the best experiences in my life happened during those two years. Not only did I discover within myself a passionate desire to know things, but I’d also taught for the first time and saw the potential for real change within the scope of the classroom. My love of theatre blossomed there as well, leading me to stage manage and produce several shows. My experiences during my master’s program gave me confidence and a growing certainty about what was important to me. It was painfully hard work, but the rewards in personal growth were immeasurable.

I had applied for, and been accepted into, a PhD program in England, but could not get funding, so I went home, to Edmonton, to look for work. At Grant MacEwan College I was fortunate enough to meet Department Chair who believed that the only way to train excellent teachers was to give them the chance to teach. She hired me at sessional rates to teach four courses a term. It was murder. I’d only ever taught one course at a time, and not as the sole instructor. I learned on my feet, then. I made mistakes. I learned to embrace my mistakes and learn from them. By the end of my first year I knew two things. I would never happily teach five courses a term – a full teaching load at college level – and if all I did was teach, I would burn out within two years.

So I applied again – for funding for England, and for a PhD program at the University of Alberta. England offered me nothing, and my soon to be supervisor in Edmonton offered me a two year scholarship, making the choice an easy one. Whereas time had sped by during the MA, it stretched out with the PhD dissertation. I learned that no matter how good you are and how much experience you have, writing is hard work. When I ask my students to write, I don’t pretend it is easy. I will share the tools and tactics I have discovered, but writing will always take work, and that work is worthwhile.

That work was worthwhile for me. As with the MA, there were times I thought the PhD had broken me, but when I worked through the growing pains, I felt better for it. More alive. More aware. That, my friends, is never a bad thing. And life rewarded that growth. I was awarded a post-doctoral fellowship, government funding to conduct my research in Bristol, England. I work on a particular kind of medieval drama, called cycle plays. These plays were produced by and for civic communities. Craft associations and other community groups would put on short pageants – little plays, ten to twenty minutes long – that all together told the story of the bible. The Bakers for example, might do the Last Supper, or the Shipbuilders do Noah’s Arc. The whole play could take up to three days to perform, and each little pageant could cost a year’s wages or more to produce annually. In my work, I look closely at historical records to figure out what purpose these plays served in their communities. I do so by imagining these communities into being based on the data I’ve found, and then attempting to witness the plays from the perspective of that culture. It is an approximate art, but it shows me how the text can work to influence communities. I am motivated both by a genuine interest in these texts, and by the conviction that all theatre can be used to foster community. If I can articulate how the these plays created community in the past, then we may gain insight into how we can use theatre to achieve positive change and strengthen the communities we live in today.

These are ideas that have been developing over the past year, during my time in England, along with several others on the connection between space and memory; labour in medieval romance; and veils and masks in Troilus and Cressida. But the post doc wasn’t the only reward life had in store. I had barely settled into a routine in England when CBU posted an ad looking for a professor of dramatic literature. I remember reading the posting details repeatedly, certain that it was not possible for a job description to describe my particular skills and interests so exactly. The more I learned, the more I knew Cape Breton was the place I needed to call home. Thankfully, the hiring committee agreed.

I have been on a fourteen year adventure, facing huge changes and taking larger risks. Each time I was terrified that I would fail. Each time I achieved more than I could have imagined.

And it all started with an English degree.

Those of you who are also new, welcome. If you get a little freaked out, talk to me. I’m probably going through the same stuff and may know where you can go for help. Those of you who were here before me, I look forward to meeting you, and to learning with you.

Sheila Christie

p.s. No, Shakespeare was not medieval. He’s classed as Elizabethan, Renaissance or Early Modern.
p.p.s. Yes, there was drama before Shakespeare. Ask me if you want to know more.
p.p.p.s. Look! A comments button. Tell me what you’re thinking.

Beware Doll: Bob Dylan in the University

2009-03-23T14:22:00.000-07:00

The first thing that a visitor to my office generally notices is the relative absence of ornamentation on my walls, and I admit that if one’s office walls are the windows to the soul, I guess that makes me something of a blank slate. I like to think that I am partially redeemed by the second thing most visitors notice: a signed photo of Bob Dylan (looking very “Another Side of Bob Dylan”) that I use in a desperate attempt to give myself some credibility by giving the illusion of intimacy with Mr. Zimmerman (if I’m being entirely honest, it was a gift from my wife, who bought it on ebay; I’ve never really met the man). Depending on how Dylan-savvy my visitor is, this has the potential to lead to endless conversations about favourite songs, albums and various other Dylan minutiae, but, given the setting, I often find myself fielding questions about the role of Dylan in academia.

One question that I am asked from time to time is, “have you ever considered teaching Dylan as poetry?” Well, yes and no: yes, I’ve thought about it, but no, I’ve generally written off the idea as way too self-indulgent. As much as I would hope that my enthusiasm for the subject would transfer to my students, I am also very conscious that it can be very hard to teach something that one is too close to (I don’t even teach my beloved Byron—arguably the Dylan of the 19th century… but that’s another story—in my English 200 class). Nevertheless, this question, hitherto always posed in the abstract, became the subject of more concrete reflection the other day when, leafing through a sample poetry anthology sent to me by a publisher, I noticed the inclusion of two Dylan songs, “The Times They Are A-Changing” and “Tangled Up in Blue” sandwiched between some of John Donne’s “Holy Sonnets” and T.S. Eliot’s “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” (in case you’re wondering, this anthology was organized in alphabetical order—ooh, edgy!).

The sight of these songs/poems triggered a variety of reactions. As a Dylanophile and self-confessed pedant, my initial reaction was horror at the way that a song that exists in so many different musical and lyrical guises as “Tangled Up in Blue” should be fixed in print as a single authoritative set of lyrics. Where are the subtle modulations between third and first person that have marked the evolution of the song from its original version (later released on Volume 2 of The Bootleg Series) through the “official” Blood on the Tracks version through Dylan’s alteration of the song over the years in live performances? What about those incredible alternative lyrics, such as those preserved 10 years later on Real Live? (I have always, for example, been fascinated by Dylan’s determination, in the last verse, “to find someone among the women and men whose destiny is unclear.”) As a practical, professorial type, however, I quickly accepted that it is in the nature of textbooks to create canons and impose authoritative readings. The price of canonicity is invariably the stifling of the experimental, the edgy, and the uncertain.

I was left puzzling over the larger implications of this newfound canonicity; what, for example, would be the effect of putting Dylan on a course with the luminaries of English literature? That Dylan is a poet is beyond doubt (and if any doubters do remain out there, I refer them to Dr. Keshen in the Philosophy department; he will set them straight on that score more resoundingly than I). Certainly, it would certainly be possible to analyze “Tangled” in terms of diction, rhyme, meter, point of view, and to ask all the necessary literary questions about it. It could work quite well, for example, in a sequence of poetry about love from the courtly love tradition to the modern (Is the “Italian poet from the thirteenth century” mentioned in the song actually Petrarch? Unlike me, Dylan was no pedant, and maybe “fourteenth century” wouldn’t have sounded as good.) But, however academic I can make it seem, the question would still be why study Dylan rather than, say, poor old Prufrock on the facing page?

One possible answer would have to be relevance. Dylan has songs for any listener and for any occasion, and it would be possible to select texts that most students would respond to. For example, I imagine that many local students would feel the poignancy of “North Country Blues,” a song in which Dylan adopts the persona of a miner’s wife, lamenting the changes that have taken place over the years: “my children will go/ As soon as they grow/ ‘Cause there ain’t nothing here now to hold them.” Certainly, there is here a more directly accessible kind of angst than Prufrock’s description of an evening laid out “like a patient etherised on a table.” (All right, I’ll stop picking on poor T.S. Eliot; I’ve got nothing against him really, he just happens to be ready at hand.) Or, if my choices are dictated by the textbook (as they so often are), “Tangled” is itself a heartfelt reflection on love and loss that has a universal sort of relevance. The star-crossed lovers with disapproving parents, and the modern sense of disillusionment and anti-romance, for example, might certainly be used to attract students and to argue for the “literary” quality of the song.

On the other hand, another answer would have to be strangeness; Dylan is not what people usually consider literature, so studying him would allow one to open a whole host of questions about what literature is, and to bridge the gap between popular culture and so-called high art. If a song can be studied as a poem, that might make the study of English literature seem less elitist. The question that still troubles me, however, is this: wouldn’t the inclusion of Dylan on a course syllabus be an inherently self-defeating gesture? It would assert the canonicity of a figure who is being evoked precisely to challenge the idea of canonicity, and would risk being perceived by students as yet another authoritative voice (and I’m sure that there’s nothing Dylan would hate more than becoming canonical). So, if I teach Dylan because I think he’s a great poet (which I do think), I undermine the motive of teaching something substantially different. On the other hand, if I teach Dylan because he’s relevant in a contemporary way that “classic” literature sometimes isn’t (which I also do think), I beg the question: why not teach, say, Nietzschean readings of Kanye West’s “Stronger” (“what does not destroy me makes me stronger”) or Coldplay and the French Revolution? This cultural studies approach helps to defamiliarize common uses of language, and to make students see that there is no cultural product that is not a carefully crafted manipulation of discourse; it is not simply that literature is a privileged discourse that professors “read into” to discover meaning. But this approach seems to necessarily call for a shifting of its object from year to year; if contemporary relevance is what is required, then the class must shift as cultural tastes change (which they do about every 15 minutes).

So, after several digressions (is anyone still reading this?), I’ve boiled it down to two arguments; I can teach Dylan because he is the same as and equal to other canonical authors, or I can teach him because he is different from and opposed to them. But perhaps the real lesson here is that he is both; he offers an example of one who has been an icon of popular culture and is now anthologized as a poet. If nothing else, it invites questions about how such a transition might be possible, and what is at stake in the decisions made by textbook editors. Is literature to be defined as the reproduction of certain “norms” of literary language, or precisely as the experimentation with language and the disruption of such norms? If it is the latter, doesn’t that invalidate the whole idea of a stable canon? Literature would be an approach, not a final product. Literature would be whatever comes next. I would certainly like my students to consider this point of view, and if I can use Dylan to make this point, I could—possibly—be convinced to change my mind and “see it from a different point of view.”

Nat Leach

Why spelling matters

2009-02-07T16:58:00.000-08:00

This month sees the beginning of the 2009 Canwest National Spelling Bee. Nationwide, something like a quarter of a million kids will be taking part. The event culminates with the national finals in Ottawa in April.

I have been involved with the spelling bee as an official for the past couple of years, and people are often curious to know more about it. Many (understandably I should add) do pose some tough questions. Should we really be encouraging this kind of competition among kids? How does spelling really help kids use language in the real world? Isn't this just an exercise in memorization? Does spelling even matter any more in the age of computers?

Let me see if I can answer all these in a coherent way. To begin, I should point out that spelling competitions seem oddly subject to questions that we do not pose about other competitions, which are usually taken to have value in themselves. Hockey, for instance, does not build specific skills applicable in the real world (unless you live in Ottawa and can skate to work on the Rideau Canal), but we don't really care, nor should we. For one thing, hockey at its best is great fun for players and fans. For another, it builds broader aspects of character like sportsmanship, grace under pressure, discipline, and so on. But, of course, competitive spelling does all these things too. Last year at the Halifax bee, one of the two finalists looked at the other just before the final rounds were about to start and said with all sincerity, "I hope I win, but good luck." I have rarely heard a better formulation of the competitive spirit.

As for the more specific concerns, spelling is not just an exercise in mindless rote learning. The best spellers realize that to know how to spell well is to understand what words are and where they come from. Top spellers learn not just the letters, but the origins of the words, and how they are related to other words. Of course, these things help with the spelling, but it also opens up for kids the remarkable landscape that is the study of human language, with its incredibly vast detail, and its intricate history. They learn that the history of every people is not just written in its language but on its language.

And what of the competition? What of the crying children who must leave the stage after spelling hamadryad or hypobulia incorrectly? Well, trust me, they get over it. And if they have good parents, they have a chance to talk about some important truths in life. That one cannot always win, but that one can always compete with dignity. Sports parents, one hopes, take advantage of their children's losses and setbacks to teach this vital lesson. But not all kids are athletes. Not all kids are blessed with natural physical ability. Some are smart, and this is their chance to compete in the arena in which they excel. And to learn the lessons -- some thrilling, some heartbreaking -- that this arena affords.

And that's why spelling matters.

Todd Pettigrew

Another blog on blogs, or my New Year’s resolution

2009-01-06T08:31:00.000-08:00

My New Year’s resolution this year is to write. Just to write. To see what I might have to say. The blog, which I’ve never written, seems to make manifest the desire behind all writing—to be heard by someone you know but don’t know, someone you can’t see who is nonetheless extremely close. Someone (or is it something?) not exactly there and yet potentially reachable in the act of writing.

One of my favorite poets, W.S. Graham, wrote to this unseen auditor all the time. Knowing he had someone to write to who could never quite hear, and yet was part of a contract for communication that both subscribed to, gave Graham a way to write. And that’s what I’m looking for this year: A way to begin. To say what might need to be said. Here’s one of W.S. Graham’s poems on the subject:

THE CONSTRUCTED SPACE

Meanwhile surely there must be something to say,
Maybe not suitable but at least happy
In a sense here between us two whoever
We are. Anyhow here we are and never
Before have we two faced each other who face
Each other now across this abstract scene
Stretching between us. This is a public place
Achieved against subjective odds and then
Mainly an obstacle to what I mean.

It is like that, remember. It is like that
Very often at the beginning till we are met
By some intention risen up out of nothing.
And even then we know what we are saying
Only when it is said and fixed and dead.
Or maybe, surely, of course we never know
What we have said, what lonely meanings are read
Into the space we make. And yet I say
This silence here for in it I might hear you.

I say this silence or, better, construct this space
So that somehow something may move across
The caught habits of language to you and me.
From where we are it is not us we see
And times are hastening yet, disguise is mortal.
The times continually disclose our home.
Here in the present tense disguise is moral.
The trying times are hastening. Yet here I am
More truly now this abstract act become.

Graham lived a life of solitude and poverty in Cornwall, in a small cottage without plumbing. He spent his time trying to speak to someone (“Dear Who I Mean,” he entitles one poem), to find something to say. Waiting for “some intention [to] rise up out of nothing” was his dream, and my dream, of what writing might do. That it might connect one to an/other. That it might make something / new. That it might shine a light, compose a dawn, draw the faint starting of a path for change. Not necessarily the “yes-we-can” kind, but a more tentative “maybe”: maybe something’s/someone’s out there, waiting.

So this is my New Year’s resolution: to write, to try. And it is also an invitation to others. You don’t need anything to write but the will to begin, to move a line forward, to start on a tentative path where an intention might just rise up, out of nothing.

Mark Silverberg

On essays, blogs, and walls

2008-11-28T11:27:00.000-08:00

Most teachers have the challenge of making their material come alive for their students. We all try, in whatever way we can, to persuade them that what we teach in here also exists out there. In my department, this is often a challenge of convincing students that the books we read have currency beyond the margins of the syllabus: that Gulliver’s Travels is really good, or that people used to line up to get the next installment of David Copperfield, or that Gabriel Garcia Marquez eventually pawned his blender to finance the writing of One Hundred Years of Solitude.

In non-literary composition courses, however, the problem is a bit different. I have to convince my students that the thing I’m teaching actually exists. They know they have to periodically pass in essays in order to pass their courses. Since sometime in Junior High, when we move beyond the diorama phase of our education (special skill: I can make a mean killer whale out of plasticine), the essay has become the main method of evaluation in many disciplines. It’s an old friend, or an old albatross, in any case, it’s familiar. What that familiarity in part obscures, however, is that the essay is a genre, in the way that the Bristol board collage is not, beyond the walls of the school. Good enough for Montaigne, Bacon, Jo(h)nson, Kant, Carlyle and Eliot, the essay has been a way of honing ideas, of bringing the private conviction into the public sphere for a good long while now. When I urge my classes to try to look beyond Virginia Woolf’s (wonderfully) meandering obscurity in A Room of One’s Own, or to not be deceived by Orwell’s apparent simplicity in “Shooting an Elephant” (no, the essay is not about shooting an elephant, it’s about imperialism), I tell them that Woolf and Orwell are two of the most respected essayists of the twentieth century. Why, they ask, does that mean anything?

I decided one possible way to answer this question was to invite my students into the public sphere of discourse and ideas. I decided to make them read blogs. The blog, I told my class, simulates a modern version of the immediacy of the essay. Sure, there are some uninteresting, poorly written, self indulgent blogs, but that is true of nearly everything. A good blog offers inspired writing, on a wide variety of subjects—my favourite is Theory of Ice, which raises the love of hockey (and the habs) to an intellectual pursuit of the first order. Even something like gofugyourself.com, the product of two catty girls who like to make fun of the sartorial slip-ups of celebrities, often has brilliant comic timing and tone—a difficult success in composition. Whatever the subject, the blog has current, dynamic examples of how critical thinking (and good expression) is a way of life that can be applied to daily experience, and not just an archival, dusty, controlled exercise for the classroom.

As with most trends, it turns out I might be too late. Wired, the magazine for the hip and techno-savvy, has declared, to my dismay, the blog to be “so 2004”. In his article for the October issue of the magazine, writer Paul Boutin suggests “the time it takes to craft sharp, witty blog prose is better spent expressing yourself on Flickr, Facebook or Twitter.” He points out that the so-called blogosphere has become inundated with “paid bilge.” Once a forum for personal expression, it is true that the blog has become increasingly professionalized and corporatized. Wired’s website itself hosts a long list of affiliated blogs. I wonder, though, at the relevance of this point. Aren’t many things a struggle between the corporate and the independent? According to that logic, Eastside Mario’s precludes the possibility of Allegro.

My main concern, however, is with Boutin’s cavalier dismissal of the virtues of the blog. He suggests that the blog is being happily replaced by Twitter, because of its limit of 140 words per post, and Facebook, because of how easy it is to post visuals, saving time otherwise spend “fretting over words.” Surely to fret over words is to think carefully. Boutin predicts and celebrates the end of what I think was a particularly triumphant moment (apparently located somewhere in 2004) for composition. At its best, the blog values the careful, considered paragraph. As long as that’s still on the table, who cares about its worst?

Emily Doucet

What is this blog?

2008-10-16T06:37:00.001-07:00

This blog has been created to be one of the online venues for the Department of Lanuages and Letters at Cape Breton University.

Here, faculty members will post their thoughts on topics related to literature, culture, language, or whatever strikes their fancies.

Check back for posts. Join our Facebook group to keep up to date (CBU English).

Todd Pettigrew