Fuck the (CanLit) Farm Novel?
I know there are some Canadian Literature nerds who occasionally read this blog, so… Is CanLit too rural? My initial response to this was “Yes! God, yes!” – until I remembered that I may have read around 10 Canadian novels in my entire life. So I’m not exactly qualified to judge.
Still, since I’ve been thinking so much recently about cities and their capacity to make people and culture – to make no mention of planning a Toronto short story collection in my head that I’ll probably never write – it seems a fair question to ask here. Is Canada’s vision of itself still too focused on the ole’ “hewers of wood, drawers of water” cliche – especially when around 80% of the population lives in cities? Or is the sometimes rural focus of Canuck writing a way of re/constructing a past and a cultural legacy that one might morph and play with?
Note: This was also just an excuse for me to bust out a picture of Autumn, which is my favourite time of year.
Note 2: The only downside to that link is that calls As for Me and My House a “lobotomy between two covers”. I dunno’ – I sorta’ loved it. But then, it is a very morose, introspective novel.