Unit Three Canada In-depth Reading Pre-reading Questions: 1.How much do you know about Canada? 2.Is Canada an interesting or dull country to you? Where the World Began Margaret Laurence! 1 A strange place it was,that place where the world began.A place of incredible happenings,splendors and revelations,despairs like multitudinous pits of isolated hells.A place of shadow-spookiness,inhabited by the unknowable dead.A place of jubilation and of mourning,horrible and beautiful. 2 It was,in fact,a small prairie town. 3 Because that settlement and that land were my first and for many years my only real knowledge of this planet,in some profound way they remain my world,my way of viewing.My eyes were formed there.Towns like ours,set in a sea of land,have been described thousands of times as dull,bleak,flat,uninteresting.I have had it said to me that the railway trip across Canada is spectacular,except for the prairies2,when it would be desirable to go to sleep for several days,until the ordeal is over.I am always unable to argue this point effectively.All I can say is-----well,you really have to live there to know that country.The town of my childhood could be called bizarre, agonizingly repressive or cruel at times,and the land in which it grew could be called harsh in the violence of its seasonal changes.But never merely flat or uninteresting. Never dull. 4 In winter,we used to hitch rides on the back of the milk sleigh,our moccasins squeaking and slithering on the hard rutted snow of the roads,our hands in ice-bubbled mitts hanging onto the box edge of the sleigh for dear life,while Bert grinned at us through his great frosted moustache and shouted the horse into speed, daring us to stay put.Those mornings,rising,there would be the perpetual fascination of the frost feathers on windows,the ferns and flowers and eerie faces traced there during the night by unseen artists of the wind.Evenings,coming back from skating, the sky would be black but not dark,for you could see a cold glitter of stars from one side of the earth's rim to the other.And then the sometime astonishment when you saw the Northern Lights flaring across the sky,like the scrawled signature of God. After a blizzard,when the snowploughs hadn't yet got through,school would be closed for the day,the assumption being that the town's young could not possibly flounder through five feet of snow in the pursuit of education.We would then gaily don snowshoes and flounder for miles out into the white dazzling deserts,in pursuit of a different kind of knowing.If you came back too close to night,through the woods at the foot of the town hill,the thin black branches of poplar and chokecherry mow
Unit Three Canada In-depth Reading Pre-reading Questions: 1. How much do you know about Canada? 2. Is Canada an interesting or dull country to you? Where the World Began Margaret Laurence 1 1 A strange place it was, that place where the world began. A place of incredible happenings, splendors and revelations, despairs like multitudinous pits of isolated hells. A place of shadow-spookiness, inhabited by the unknowable dead. A place of jubilation and of mourning, horrible and beautiful. 2 It was, in fact, a small prairie town. 3 Because that settlement and that land were my first and for many years my only real knowledge of this planet, in some profound way they remain my world, my way of viewing. My eyes were formed there. Towns like ours, set in a sea of land, have been described thousands of times as dull, bleak, flat, uninteresting. I have had it said to me that the railway trip across Canada is spectacular, except for the prairies 2 , when it would be desirable to go to sleep for several days, until the ordeal is over. I am always unable to argue this point effectively. All I can say is -----well, you really have to live there to know that country. The town of my childhood could be called bizarre, agonizingly repressive or cruel at times, and the land in which it grew could be called harsh in the violence of its seasonal changes. But never merely flat or uninteresting. Never dull. 4 In winter, we used to hitch rides on the back of the milk sleigh, our moccasins squeaking and slithering on the hard rutted snow of the roads, our hands in ice-bubbled mitts hanging onto the box edge of the sleigh for dear life, while Bert grinned at us through his great frosted moustache and shouted the horse into speed, daring us to stay put. Those mornings, rising, there would be the perpetual fascination of the frost feathers on windows, the ferns and flowers and eerie faces traced there during the night by unseen artists of the wind. Evenings, coming back from skating, the sky would be black but not dark, for you could see a cold glitter of stars from one side of the earth’s rim to the other. And then the sometime astonishment when you saw the Northern Lights flaring across the sky, like the scrawled signature of God. After a blizzard, when the snowploughs hadn’t yet got through, school would be closed for the day, the assumption being that the town’s young could not possibly flounder through five feet of snow in the pursuit of education. We would then gaily don snowshoes and flounder for miles out into the white dazzling deserts, in pursuit of a different kind of knowing. If you came back too close to night, through the woods at the foot of the town hill, the thin black branches of poplar and chokecherry mow
meringued with frost,sometimes you heard coyotes.Or maybe the banshee wolf-voices were really only inside your head. 5 Summers were scorching,and when no rain came and the wheat became bleached and dried before it headed,the faces of farmers and townsfolk would not smile much, and you took for granted,because it never seemed to have been any different,the frequent knocking at the back door and the young men standing there,mumbling or thrusting defiantly their requests for a drink of water and a sandwich if you could spare it.They were riding the freights,and you never knew where they had come from,or where they might end up,if anywhere.The Drought and Depression were like evil deities which had been there always.You understood and did not understand. 6 Yet the outside world had its continuing marvels.The poplar bluffs and the small river were filled and surrounded with a zillion different grasses,stones,and weed flowers.The meadowlarks sang undaunted from the twanging telephone wires along the gravel highway.Once we found an old flat-bottomed scow,and launched her, poling along the shallow brown waters,mending her with wodges of hastily chewed Spearmint,grounding her among the tangles of yellow marsh marigolds that grew succulently along the banks of the shrunken river,while the sun made our skins smell dusty-warm. 7 My best friend lived in an apartment above some stores on Main Street(its real name was Mountain Avenue,goodness knows why),an elegant apartment with royal-blue velvet curtains.The back roof,scarcely sloping at all,was corrugated tin, of a furnace-like warmth on a July afternoon,and we would sit there drinking lemonade and looking across the back lane at the Fire Hall.Sometimes our vigil would be rewarded.Oh joy!Somebody's house burning down!We had an almost-perfect callousness in some ways.Then the wooden tower's bronze bell would clonk and toll like a thousand speeded funerals in a time of plague,and in a few minutes the team of giant black horses would cannon forth,pulling the fire wagon like some scarlet chariot of the Goths 3,while the firemen clung with one hand,adjusting their helmets as they went. 8 The oddities of the place were endless.An elderly lady used to serve,as her afternoon tea offering to other ladies,soda biscuits spread with peanut butter and topped with a whole marshmallow.Some considered this slightly eccentric,when compared with chopped egg sandwiches,and admittedly talked about her behind her back,but no one ever refused these delicacies or indicated to her that they thought she had slipped a cog.Another lady dyed her hair a bright and cheery orange,by strangers often mistaken at twenty paces for a feather hat.My own beloved stepmother wore a silver fox neckpiece,a whole pelt,with the embalmed (?head still on.My Ontario Irish grandfather said,"sparrow grass",a more interesting term than asparagus.The town dump was known as "the nuisance grounds",a phrase fraught with weird connotations,as though the effluvia of our lives was beneath contempt but at the same time was subtly threatening to the determined and sometimes hysterical propriety of our ways 9 Some oddities were,as idiom had it,"funny ha ha";others were "funny peculiar." Some were not so very funny at all.An old man lived,deranged,in a shack in the
meringued with frost, sometimes you heard coyotes. Or maybe the banshee wolf-voices were really only inside your head. 5 Summers were scorching, and when no rain came and the wheat became bleached and dried before it headed, the faces of farmers and townsfolk would not smile much, and you took for granted, because it never seemed to have been any different, the frequent knocking at the back door and the young men standing there, mumbling or thrusting defiantly their requests for a drink of water and a sandwich if you could spare it. They were riding the freights, and you never knew where they had come from, or where they might end up, if anywhere. The Drought and Depression were like evil deities which had been there always. You understood and did not understand. 6 Yet the outside world had its continuing marvels. The poplar bluffs and the small river were filled and surrounded with a zillion different grasses, stones, and weed flowers. The meadowlarks sang undaunted from the twanging telephone wires along the gravel highway. Once we found an old flat-bottomed scow, and launched her, poling along the shallow brown waters, mending her with wodges of hastily chewed Spearmint, grounding her among the tangles of yellow marsh marigolds that grew succulently along the banks of the shrunken river, while the sun made our skins smell dusty-warm. 7 My best friend lived in an apartment above some stores on Main Street (its real name was Mountain Avenue, goodness knows why), an elegant apartment with royal-blue velvet curtains. The back roof, scarcely sloping at all, was corrugated tin, of a furnace-like warmth on a July afternoon, and we would sit there drinking lemonade and looking across the back lane at the Fire Hall. Sometimes our vigil would be rewarded. Oh joy! Somebody’s house burning down! We had an almost-perfect callousness in some ways. Then the wooden tower’s bronze bell would clonk and toll like a thousand speeded funerals in a time of plague, and in a few minutes the team of giant black horses would cannon forth, pulling the fire wagon like some scarlet chariot of the Goths 3 , while the firemen clung with one hand, adjusting their helmets as they went. 8 The oddities of the place were endless. An elderly lady used to serve, as her afternoon tea offering to other ladies, soda biscuits spread with peanut butter and topped with a whole marshmallow. Some considered this slightly eccentric, when compared with chopped egg sandwiches, and admittedly talked about her behind her back, but no one ever refused these delicacies or indicated to her that they thought she had slipped a cog. Another lady dyed her hair a bright and cheery orange, by strangers often mistaken at twenty paces for a feather hat. My own beloved stepmother wore a silver fox neckpiece, a whole pelt, with the embalmed (?) head still on. My Ontario Irish grandfather said, “sparrow grass”, a more interesting term than asparagus. The town dump was known as “the nuisance grounds”, a phrase fraught with weird connotations, as though the effluvia of our lives was beneath contempt but at the same time was subtly threatening to the determined and sometimes hysterical propriety of our ways. 9 Some oddities were, as idiom had it, “funny ha ha”; others were “funny peculiar.” Some were not so very funny at all. An old man lived, deranged, in a shack in the
valley.Perhaps he wasn't even all that old,but to us he seemed a wild Methuselah 4 figure,shambling among the underbrush and the tall couchgrass,muttering indecipherable curses or blessings,a prophet who had forgotten his prophesies. Everyone in town knew him,but no one knew him.He lived among us as though only occasionally and momentarily visible.The kids called him Andy Gump,and feared him.Some sought to prove their bravery by tormenting him.They were the medieval bear baiters,and he the lumbering bewildered bear,half blind,only rarely turning to snarl.Everything is to be found in a town like mine.Belson 3,writ small but with the same ink. 10 All of us cast stones in one shape or another.In grade school,among the vulnerable and violet girls we were,the feared and despised were those few older girls from what was charmingly termed "the wrong side of the tracks."Though in talk and tougher in muscle,they were said to be whores already.And may have been,that being about the only profession readily available to them. 11 The dead lived in that place,too.Not only the grandparents who had,in local parlance,"passed on"and who gloomed,bearded or bonneted,from the sepia photographs in old albums,but also the uncles,forever eighteen or nineteen,whose names were carved on the granite family stones in the cemetery,but whose bones lay in France.My own young mother lay in that graveyard,beside other dead of our kin, and when I was ten,my father,too,only forty,left the living town for the dead dwelling on the hill. 12 When I was eighteen,I couldn't wait to get out of that town,away from the prairies.I did not know then that I would carry the land and town all my life within my skull,that they would form the mainspring and source of the writing I was to do, wherever and however far away I might live. 13 This was my territory in the time of my youth,and in a sense my life since then has been an attempt to look at it,to come to terms with it.Stultifying to the mind it certainly could be,and sometimes was,but not to the imagination.It was many things, but it was never dull. 14 The same,I now see,could be said for Canada in general.Why on earth did generations of Canadians pretend to believe this country dull?We knew perfectly well it wasn't.Yet for so long we did not proclaim what we knew.If our upsurge of so-called nationalism seems odd or irrelevant to outsiders,and even to some of our own people (What's all the fuss about?),they might try to understand that for many years we valued ourselves insufficiently,living as we did under the huge shadows of those two dominating figures,Uncle Sam and Britannia.We have only just begun to value ourselves,our land,our abilities.We have only just begun to recognize our legends and to give shape to our myths. 15 There are,God knows,enough aspects to deplore about this country.When I see the killing of our lakes and rivers with industrial wastes,I feel rage and despair.When I see our industries and natural resources increasingly taken over by America,I feel an overwhelming discouragement,especially as I cannot simply say "damn Yankees."It should never be forgotten that it is we ourselves who have sold such a large amount of our birthright for a mess of plastic Progress 6.When I saw the War Measures Act 7
valley. Perhaps he wasn’t even all that old, but to us he seemed a wild Methuselah 4 figure, shambling among the underbrush and the tall couchgrass, muttering indecipherable curses or blessings, a prophet who had forgotten his prophesies. Everyone in town knew him, but no one knew him. He lived among us as though only occasionally and momentarily visible. The kids called him Andy Gump, and feared him. Some sought to prove their bravery by tormenting him. They were the medieval bear baiters, and he the lumbering bewildered bear, half blind, only rarely turning to snarl. Everything is to be found in a town like mine. Belson 5 , writ small but with the same ink. 10 All of us cast stones in one shape or another. In grade school, among the vulnerable and violet girls we were, the feared and despised were those few older girls from what was charmingly termed “the wrong side of the tracks.” Though in talk and tougher in muscle, they were said to be whores already. And may have been, that being about the only profession readily available to them. 11 The dead lived in that place, too. Not only the grandparents who had, in local parlance, “passed on” and who gloomed, bearded or bonneted, from the sepia photographs in old albums, but also the uncles, forever eighteen or nineteen, whose names were carved on the granite family stones in the cemetery, but whose bones lay in France. My own young mother lay in that graveyard, beside other dead of our kin, and when I was ten, my father, too, only forty, left the living town for the dead dwelling on the hill. 12 When I was eighteen, I couldn’t wait to get out of that town, away from the prairies. I did not know then that I would carry the land and town all my life within my skull, that they would form the mainspring and source of the writing I was to do, wherever and however far away I might live. 13 This was my territory in the time of my youth, and in a sense my life since then has been an attempt to look at it, to come to terms with it. Stultifying to the mind it certainly could be, and sometimes was, but not to the imagination. It was many things, but it was never dull. 14 The same, I now see, could be said for Canada in general. Why on earth did generations of Canadians pretend to believe this country dull? We knew perfectly well it wasn’t. Yet for so long we did not proclaim what we knew. If our upsurge of so-called nationalism seems odd or irrelevant to outsiders, and even to some of our own people (What’s all the fuss about?), they might try to understand that for many years we valued ourselves insufficiently, living as we did under the huge shadows of those two dominating figures, Uncle Sam and Britannia. We have only just begun to value ourselves, our land, our abilities. We have only just begun to recognize our legends and to give shape to our myths. 15 There are, God knows, enough aspects to deplore about this country. When I see the killing of our lakes and rivers with industrial wastes, I feel rage and despair. When I see our industries and natural resources increasingly taken over by America, I feel an overwhelming discouragement, especially as I cannot simply say “damn Yankees.” It should never be forgotten that it is we ourselves who have sold such a large amount of our birthright for a mess of plastic Progress 6 . When I saw the War Measures Act 7
being invoked in 1970,I lost forever the vestigial remains of the naive wish-belief that repression could not happen here,or would not.And yet,of course,I had known all along in the deepest and often hidden caves of the heart that anything can happen anywhere,for the seeds of both man's freedom and his captivity are found everywhere. even in the microcosm of a prairie town.But in raging against our injustices,our stupidities,I do so as family,as I did,and still do in writing,about those aspects of my town which I hated and which are always in some ways aspects of myself. 16 The land still draws me more than other lands.I have lived in Africa and in England,but splendid as both can be,they do not have the power to move me in the same way as,for example,that part of southern Ontario where I spent four months last summer in a cedar cabin beside a river."Scratch a Canadian,and you find a phony pioneer,"I used to say to myself in warning.But all the same it is true,I think, that we are not yet totally alienated from physical earth,and let us only pray we do not become so.I once thought that my lifelong fear and mistrust of cities made me a kind of old-fashioned freak;now I see differently. 17 The cabin has a long window across its front western wall,and sitting at the oak table there in the mornings,I used to look out at the river and at the tall trees beyond, green-gold in the early light.The river was bronze;the sun caught it strangely, reflecting upon its surface the near-shore sand ripples underneath.Suddenly,the crescenting of a fish,gone before the eye could clearly give image to it.The old man next door said these leaping fish were carp.Himself,he preferred muskie,for he was a real fisherman and the muskie gave him a flight.The wind most often blew from the south,and the river flowed toward the south,so when the water was wind-riffled,and the current was strong,the river seemed to be flowing both ways.I like this,and interpreted it as an omen,a natural symbol. 18 A few years ago,when I was back in Winnipeg,I gave a talk at my old college.It was open to the public,and afterward a very old man came up to me and asked me if my maiden name had been Wemyss.I said yes,thinking he might have known my father or grandfather.But no."When I was a lad,"he said,"I once worked for your great-grandfather,Robert Wemyss,when he had the sheep ranch at Raeburn."I think that was a moment when I realized all over again something of great importance to me.My long-ago families came from Scotland and Ireland,but in a sense that no longer mattered so much.My true roots were here. 19 I am not very patriotic,in the usual meaning of that word.I cannot say "My country right or wrong"in any political,social or literary context.But one thing is inalterable,for better or worse,for life. 20 This is where my world began.A world which includes the ancestors-----both my own and other people's ancestors who become mine.A world which formed me,and continues to do so,even while I fought it in some of its aspects,and continues to do so. A world which gave me my own lifework to do,because it was here that I learned the sight of my own particular eyes
being invoked in 1970, I lost forever the vestigial remains of the naïve wish-belief that repression could not happen here, or would not. And yet, of course, I had known all along in the deepest and often hidden caves of the heart that anything can happen anywhere, for the seeds of both man’s freedom and his captivity are found everywhere, even in the microcosm of a prairie town. But in raging against our injustices, our stupidities, I do so as family, as I did, and still do in writing, about those aspects of my town which I hated and which are always in some ways aspects of myself. 16 The land still draws me more than other lands. I have lived in Africa and in England, but splendid as both can be, they do not have the power to move me in the same way as, for example, that part of southern Ontario where I spent four months last summer in a cedar cabin beside a river. “Scratch a Canadian, and you find a phony pioneer,” I used to say to myself in warning. But all the same it is true, I think, that we are not yet totally alienated from physical earth, and let us only pray we do not become so. I once thought that my lifelong fear and mistrust of cities made me a kind of old-fashioned freak; now I see differently. 17 The cabin has a long window across its front western wall, and sitting at the oak table there in the mornings, I used to look out at the river and at the tall trees beyond, green-gold in the early light. The river was bronze; the sun caught it strangely, reflecting upon its surface the near-shore sand ripples underneath. Suddenly, the crescenting of a fish, gone before the eye could clearly give image to it. The old man next door said these leaping fish were carp. Himself, he preferred muskie, for he was a real fisherman and the muskie gave him a flight. The wind most often blew from the south, and the river flowed toward the south, so when the water was wind-riffled, and the current was strong, the river seemed to be flowing both ways. I like this, and interpreted it as an omen, a natural symbol. 18 A few years ago, when I was back in Winnipeg, I gave a talk at my old college. It was open to the public, and afterward a very old man came up to me and asked me if my maiden name had been Wemyss. I said yes, thinking he might have known my father or grandfather. But no. “When I was a lad,” he said, “I once worked for your great-grandfather, Robert Wemyss, when he had the sheep ranch at Raeburn.” I think that was a moment when I realized all over again something of great importance to me. My long-ago families came from Scotland and Ireland, but in a sense that no longer mattered so much. My true roots were here. 19 I am not very patriotic, in the usual meaning of that word. I cannot say “My country right or wrong” in any political, social or literary context. But one thing is inalterable, for better or worse, for life. 20 This is where my world began. A world which includes the ancestors-----both my own and other people’s ancestors who become mine. A world which formed me, and continues to do so, even while I fought it in some of its aspects, and continues to do so. A world which gave me my own lifework to do, because it was here that I learned the sight of my own particular eyes
Cultural Notes: 1.Margaret Laurence (1926-1987):a Canadian novelist and short story writer,one of the major figures in Canadian literature.She was also a founder of the Writers'Trust of Canada,a non-profit literary organization that seeks to encourage Canada's writing community.The text is from Laurence's 1976 book of essays Heart of a Stranger. 2.Canadian prairies:a region in western Canada,which may correspond to several different definitions,natural or political.Notably,the Prairie provinces or simply the Prairies comprise the provinces of Alberta,Saskatchewan,and Manitoba,as they are partially covered by grasslands.In a more restricted sense,the term may also refer only to the areas of those provinces covered by prairie.Prairie also covers portions of northeastern British Columbia, though that province is typically not included in the region in a political sense. 3.The Goths:were an East Germanic people,two of whose branches,the Visgoths and the Ostrogoths,played an important role in the fall of the Roman Empire and the emergence of Medieval Europe. 4.Methuselah:is the man in the Hebrew Bible reported to have lived the longest.He died on the 1Ith of Cheshvan of the year 1656 at the age of 969,seven days before the beginning of the Great Flood.The name Methuselah,or the phrase "old as Methuselah",is commonly used to refer to any living thing reaching great age. 5.Belson:a notorious Nazi death camp. 6.For a mess of plastic Progress:allusion to Genesis 25,in which the hunter Esau sells his birthright to his brother Jacob for a mess of"pottage." 7.The War Measures Act:is a statute of the Parliament of Canada that provided for the declaration of war,invasion,or insurrection,and the types of emergency measures that could thereby be taken.The act was brought into force three times in Canadian history:the First World War.the Second World War and the 1970 October crisis. Background Research Questions: 1.Laurence in paragraph 14 mentioned that Canada was once under the huge shadows of the UK and the United States.Find the relevant materials to see whether her argument is right or wrong.You can consider one of the following aspects of life:computer software,eating habits, fashions,film distribution,popular music,foreign policy,and social services. 2.What happened in October 1970 that forced Canada to enact the War Measures Act? Comprehension Exercises: Answer the following questions based on the text. 1.Why does Laurence begin her essay with pairs of opposites? 2.What are the specific qualities of Laurence's hometown?What feelings do you think Laurence cherish about her hometown? 3.In making her point,does Laurence mostly compare or contrast her small prairie town to the nation as a whole? 4.What is the organizational importance of paragraphs 12 to 14 to Laurence's overall argument? 5.Summarize the central idea of the essay
Cultural Notes: 1. Margaret Laurence (1926-1987): a Canadian novelist and short story writer, one of the major figures in Canadian literature. She was also a founder of the Writers’ Trust of Canada, a non-profit literary organization that seeks to encourage Canada's writing community. The text is from Laurence’s 1976 book of essays Heart of a Stranger. 2. Canadian prairies: a region in western Canada, which may correspond to several different definitions, natural or political. Notably, the Prairie provinces or simply the Prairies comprise the provinces of Alberta, Saskatchewan, and Manitoba, as they are partially covered by grasslands. In a more restricted sense, the term may also refer only to the areas of those provinces covered by prairie. Prairie also covers portions of northeastern British Columbia, though that province is typically not included in the region in a political sense. 3. The Goths: were an East Germanic people, two of whose branches, the Visgoths and the Ostrogoths, played an important role in the fall of the Roman Empire and the emergence of Medieval Europe. 4. Methuselah: is the man in the Hebrew Bible reported to have lived the longest. He died on the 11th of Cheshvan of the year 1656 at the age of 969, seven days before the beginning of the Great Flood. The name Methuselah, or the phrase "old as Methuselah", is commonly used to refer to any living thing reaching great age. 5. Belson: a notorious Nazi death camp. 6. For a mess of plastic Progress: allusion to Genesis 25, in which the hunter Esau sells his birthright to his brother Jacob for a mess of “pottage.” 7. The War Measures Act: is a statute of the Parliament of Canada that provided for the declaration of war, invasion, or insurrection, and the types of emergency measures that could thereby be taken. The act was brought into force three times in Canadian history: the First World War, the Second World War and the 1970 October crisis. Background Research Questions: 1. Laurence in paragraph 14 mentioned that Canada was once under the huge shadows of the UK and the United States. Find the relevant materials to see whether her argument is right or wrong. You can consider one of the following aspects of life: computer software, eating habits, fashions, film distribution, popular music, foreign policy, and social services. 2. What happened in October 1970 that forced Canada to enact the War Measures Act? Comprehension Exercises: Answer the following questions based on the text. 1. Why does Laurence begin her essay with pairs of opposites? 2. What are the specific qualities of Laurence’s hometown? What feelings do you think Laurence cherish about her hometown? 3. In making her point, does Laurence mostly compare or contrast her small prairie town to the nation as a whole? 4. What is the organizational importance of paragraphs 12 to 14 to Laurence’s overall argument? 5. Summarize the central idea of the essay
Paraphrase: Paraphrase the following sentences,paying special attention to the underlined parts 1.A place of shadow-spookiness,inhabited by the unknowable dead.A place of jubilation and of mourning,horrible and beautiful.(from paragraph 1) 2. The town dump was known as "the nuisance grounds",a phrase fraught with weird connotations,as though the effluvia of our lives was beneath contempt but at the same time was subtly threatening to the determined and sometimes hysterical propriety of our ways. (from paragraph 8) 3. Stultifying to the mind it certainly could be,and sometimes was,but not to the imagination. (from paragraph 13) 4.If our upsurge of so-called nationalism seems odd or irrelevant to outsiders,and even to some of our own people (What's all the fuss about?),they might try to understand that for many years we valued ourselves insufficiently,living as we did under the huge shadows of those two dominating figures,Uncle Sam and Britannia.(from paragraph 14) 5. When I saw the War Measures Act being invoked in 1970,I lost forever the yestigial remains of the naive wish-belief that repression could not happen here,or would not.(from paragraph 15) Questions for discussion: 1.Laurence's central idea is mainly expressed by way of description.Which part do you think most strongly conveys the flavor of her hometown?How would you describe the marrow of your hometown? 2.Find at least five figures of speech in this essay and discuss the impact of each. 3.Laurence finds a sense of home when she identifies with her hometown.What do you think is the true meaning of home? Writing Practice; Write an essay entitled"Where My World Began",showing your hometown as a microcosm of the nation,or of the world
Paraphrase: Paraphrase the following sentences, paying special attention to the underlined parts. 1. A place of shadow-spookiness, inhabited by the unknowable dead. A place of jubilation and of mourning, horrible and beautiful. (from paragraph 1) ___________________________________________________________________________ ___________________________________________________________________________ 2. The town dump was known as “the nuisance grounds”, a phrase fraught with weird connotations, as though the effluvia of our lives was beneath contempt but at the same time was subtly threatening to the determined and sometimes hysterical propriety of our ways. (from paragraph 8) ___________________________________________________________________________ ___________________________________________________________________________ 3. Stultifying to the mind it certainly could be, and sometimes was, but not to the imagination. (from paragraph 13) ___________________________________________________________________________ ___________________________________________________________________________ 4. If our upsurge of so-called nationalism seems odd or irrelevant to outsiders, and even to some of our own people (What’s all the fuss about?), they might try to understand that for many years we valued ourselves insufficiently, living as we did under the huge shadows of those two dominating figures, Uncle Sam and Britannia. (from paragraph 14) ___________________________________________________________________________ ___________________________________________________________________________ 5. When I saw the War Measures Act being invoked in 1970, I lost forever the vestigial remains of the naïve wish-belief that repression could not happen here, or would not. (from paragraph 15) ___________________________________________________________________________ ___________________________________________________________________________ Questions for discussion： 1. Laurence’s central idea is mainly expressed by way of description. Which part do you think most strongly conveys the flavor of her hometown? How would you describe the marrow of your hometown? 2. Find at least five figures of speech in this essay and discuss the impact of each. 3. Laurence finds a sense of home when she identifies with her hometown. What do you think is the true meaning of home? Writing Practice; Write an essay entitled “Where My World Began”, showing your hometown as a microcosm of the nation, or of the world
Further Reading Canadians:What Do They Want? Margaret Atwood 1 1 Last month,during a poetry reading,I tried out a short prose poem called "How to Like Men."It began by suggesting that one start with the feet.Unfortunatedly,the question of jackboots soon arose,and things went on from there.After the reading I had a conversation with a young man who thought I had been unfair to men.He wanted men to be liked totally,not just from the heels to the knees,and not just as individuals but as a group;and he thought it negative and inegalitarian of me to have alluded to war and rape.I pointed out that as any of us knew these were two activities not widely engaged in by women,but he was still upset."We're both in this together," he protested.I admitted that this was so;but could he,maybe,see that our relative positions might be a little different. 2 This is the conversation one has with Americans,even,uh,good Americans,when the dinner-table conversation veers round to Canadian-American relations."We're in this together,"they like to say,especially when it comes to continental energy reserves.How do you explain to them,as delicately as possible,why they are not categorically beloved?It gets like the old Lifebuoy ads2:even their best friends won't tell them.And Canadians are supposed to be their best friends,right?Members of the family? 3 Well,sort of.Across the river from Michigan,so near and yet so far,there I was at the age of eight,reading their Donald Duck comic books (originated,however,by one of ours:yes,Walt Disney's parents were Canadian)and coming at the end to Popsicle Pete 3,who promised me the earth if only I would save wrappers,but took it all away from me again with a single asterisk:Offer Good Only in the United States.Some cynical members of the world community may be forgiven for thinking that the asterisk is there,in invisible ink,on the Constitution and the Bill of Rights 4 But quibbles like that aside,and good will assumed,how does one go about liking Americans?Where does one begin?Or,to put it another way,why did the Canadian women lock themselves in the john during a 1970s "international"feminist conference being held in Toronto?Because the American sisters were being “imperialist,”that'swhy. 5 But then,it's always a little naive of Canadians to expect that Americans,of whatever political stamp,should stop being imperious.How can they?The act is that the United States is an empire and Canada is to it as Gaul 4 was to Rome. 6 It is hard to explain to Americans what it feels like to be a Canadian.Pessimisits among us would say that one has to translate the experience into their own terms and that this is necessary because Americans are incapable of thinking in any other terms-----and this in itself is part of the problem.(Witness all those draft dodgers 5 who went into culture shock when they discovered to their horror that Toronto was
Further Reading Canadians: What Do They Want? Margaret Atwood 1 1 Last month, during a poetry reading, I tried out a short prose poem called “How to Like Men.” It began by suggesting that one start with the feet. Unfortunatedly, the question of jackboots soon arose, and things went on from there. After the reading I had a conversation with a young man who thought I had been unfair to men. He wanted men to be liked totally, not just from the heels to the knees, and not just as individuals but as a group; and he thought it negative and inegalitarian of me to have alluded to war and rape. I pointed out that as any of us knew these were two activities not widely engaged in by women, but he was still upset. “We’re both in this together,” he protested. I admitted that this was so; but could he, maybe, see that our relative positions might be a little different. 2 This is the conversation one has with Americans, even, uh, good Americans, when the dinner-table conversation veers round to Canadian-American relations. “We’re in this together,” they like to say, especially when it comes to continental energy reserves. How do you explain to them, as delicately as possible, why they are not categorically beloved? It gets like the old Lifebuoy ads 2 : even their best friends won’t tell them. And Canadians are supposed to be their best friends, right? Members of the family? 3 Well, sort of. Across the river from Michigan, so near and yet so far, there I was at the age of eight, reading their Donald Duck comic books (originated, however, by one of ours: yes, Walt Disney’s parents were Canadian) and coming at the end to Popsicle Pete 3 , who promised me the earth if only I would save wrappers, but took it all away from me again with a single asterisk: Offer Good Only in the United States. Some cynical members of the world community may be forgiven for thinking that the asterisk is there, in invisible ink, on the Constitution and the Bill of Rights. 4 But quibbles like that aside, and good will assumed, how does one go about liking Americans? Where does one begin? Or, to put it another way, why did the Canadian women lock themselves in the john during a 1970s “international” feminist conference being held in Toronto? Because the American sisters were being “imperialist,” that’s why. 5 But then, it’s always a little naïve of Canadians to expect that Americans, of whatever political stamp, should stop being imperious. How can they? The act is that the United States is an empire and Canada is to it as Gaul 4 was to Rome. 6 It is hard to explain to Americans what it feels like to be a Canadian. Pessimisits among us would say that one has to translate the experience into their own terms and that this is necessary because Americans are incapable of thinking in any other terms----- and this in itself is part of the problem. (Witness all those draft dodgers 5 who went into culture shock when they discovered to their horror that Toronto was
not Syracuse 6.) 7 Here is a translation:Picture a Mexico with a population ten times larger than that of the United States.That would put it at about two billion.Now suppose that the official American language is Spanish,that 75 percent of the books Americans buy and 90 percent of the movies they see are Mexican,and that the profits flow across the border to Mexico.If an American does scrape it together to make a movie,the Mexicans won't let him show it in the States,because they own the distribution outlets.If anyone tries to change this ratio,not only the Mexicans but many fellow Americans cry "National chauvinism,"or,even more effectively,"National socialism." After all,the American public prefers the Mexican product.It's what they're used to. 8 Retranslate and you have the current American-Canadian picture.It's changed a little recently,not only on the cultural front.For instance,Canada,some think a trifle late,is attempting to regain control of its own petroleum industry.Americans are predicted angry.They think of Canadian oil as theirs. 9 "What's mine is yours,"they have said for years,meaning exports;"What's yours is mine"means ownership and profits.Canadians are supposed to do retail buying, not controlling,or what's an empire for?One could always refer Americans to history, particularly that of their own revolution.They objected to the colonial situation when they themselves were a colony;but then,revolution is considered one of a very few home-grown American products that definitely are not for export. 10 Objectively,one cannot become too self-righteous about this state of affairs. Canadians owned lots of things,including their souls,before World War II.After that they sold,some say because they had put too much into financing the war,which created a capital vacuum (a position they would not have been forced into if the Americans hadn't kept out of the fighting for so long,say the sore losers).But for whatever reason,capital flowed across the border in the 1950s,and Canadians, traditionally sock-under-the-mattress hoarders,were reluctant to invest in their own country.Americans did it for them and ended up with a large part of it,which they retain to this day.In every sellout there's a seller as well as a buyer,and the Canadians did a thorough job of trading their birthright for a mess. 11 That's on the capitalist end,but when you turn to the trade union side of things you find much the same story,except that the sellout happened in the 1930s under the banner of the United front.Now Canadian workers are finding that in any empire the colonial branch plants are the first to close,and what could be a truly progressive labor movement has been weakened by compromised bargains made in international union headquarters south of the border. 12 Canadians are sometimes snippy to Americans at cocktail parties.They don't like to feel owned and they don't like having been sold.But what really bothers them---- and it's at this point that the United States and Rome part company-----is the wide-eyed innocence with which their snippiness is greeted. 13 Innocence becomes ignorance when seen in the light of international affairs,and though ignorance is one of the spoils of conquest-----the Gauls always knew more about the Romans than the Romans knew about them-----the world can no longer afford American's ignorance.Its ignorance of Canada,though it makes Canadians
not Syracuse 6 .) 7 Here is a translation: Picture a Mexico with a population ten times larger than that of the United States. That would put it at about two billion. Now suppose that the official American language is Spanish, that 75 percent of the books Americans buy and 90 percent of the movies they see are Mexican, and that the profits flow across the border to Mexico. If an American does scrape it together to make a movie, the Mexicans won’t let him show it in the States, because they own the distribution outlets. If anyone tries to change this ratio, not only the Mexicans but many fellow Americans cry “National chauvinism,” or, even more effectively, “National socialism.” After all, the American public prefers the Mexican product. It’s what they’re used to. 8 Retranslate and you have the current American-Canadian picture. It’s changed a little recently, not only on the cultural front. For instance, Canada, some think a trifle late, is attempting to regain control of its own petroleum industry. Americans are predicted angry. They think of Canadian oil as theirs. 9 “What’s mine is yours,” they have said for years, meaning exports; “What’s yours is mine” means ownership and profits. Canadians are supposed to do retail buying, not controlling, or what’s an empire for? One could always refer Americans to history, particularly that of their own revolution. They objected to the colonial situation when they themselves were a colony; but then, revolution is considered one of a very few home-grown American products that definitely are not for export. 10 Objectively, one cannot become too self-righteous about this state of affairs. Canadians owned lots of things, including their souls, before World War II. After that they sold, some say because they had put too much into financing the war, which created a capital vacuum (a position they would not have been forced into if the Americans hadn’t kept out of the fighting for so long, say the sore losers). But for whatever reason, capital flowed across the border in the 1950s, and Canadians, traditionally sock-under-the-mattress hoarders, were reluctant to invest in their own country. Americans did it for them and ended up with a large part of it, which they retain to this day. In every sellout there’s a seller as well as a buyer, and the Canadians did a thorough job of trading their birthright for a mess. 11 That’s on the capitalist end, but when you turn to the trade union side of things you find much the same story, except that the sellout happened in the 1930s under the banner of the United front. Now Canadian workers are finding that in any empire the colonial branch plants are the first to close, and what could be a truly progressive labor movement has been weakened by compromised bargains made in international union headquarters south of the border. 12 Canadians are sometimes snippy to Americans at cocktail parties. They don’t like to feel owned and they don’t like having been sold. But what really bothers them---- and it’s at this point that the United States and Rome part company-----is the wide-eyed innocence with which their snippiness is greeted. 13 Innocence becomes ignorance when seen in the light of international affairs, and though ignorance is one of the spoils of conquest-----the Gauls always knew more about the Romans than the Romans knew about them-----the world can no longer afford American’s ignorance. Its ignorance of Canada, though it makes Canadians
bristle,is a minor and relatively harmless example.More dangerous is the fact that individual Americans seem not to know that the United States is an imperial power and is behaving like one.They don't want to admit that empires dominate,invade and subjugate-----and live on the proceeds----or,if they do admit it,they believe in their divine right to do so.The export of divine right is much more harmful than the export of Coca-Cola,though they may turn out to be much the same thing in the end. 14 Other empires have behaved similarly (the British somewhat better,Genghis Khan 7 decidedly worse);but they have not expected to be liked for it.It's the final Americanism,this passion for being liked.Alas,many Americans are indeed likable; they are often more generous,more welcoming,more enthusiastic,less picky and sardonic than Canadians,and it's not enough to say it's only because they can afford it. Some of their revolutionary spirit still remains:the optimism,the 18th-century belief in the fixability of almost anything,the conviction of the possibility of change. However,at cocktail parties and elsewhere one must be able to tell the difference between an individual and a foreign policy.Canadians can no longer afford to think of Americans as only a spectator sport.If Reagan blows up the world,we will unfortunately be doing more than watching it on television."no annihilation without representation"8 sounds good as a slogan,but if we run it up the flagpole,who's going to salute? 15 We are all in this together.For Canadians,the question is how to survive it.For Americans there is no question,because there does not have to be.Canada is just that vague,cold place where their uncle used to go fishing,before the lakes went dead from acid rain. 16 How do you like Americans?Individually,it's easier.You average American is no more responsible for the state of affairs than your average man is for war and rape. Any Canadian who is so narrow-minded as to dislike Americans merely on principle is missing out on one of the good things in life.The same might be said,to women,of men.As a group,as a foreign policy,it's harder.But if you like men,you can like Americans.Cautiously.Selectively.Beginning with the feet.One at a time. Cultural Notes: 1.Margaret Atwood (1939-):a Canadian poet,novelist,literary critic,essayist,and environmental activist.She is a winner of the Arthur C.Clarke Award and Prince of Asturias Award for Literature,has been shortlisted for the Booker Prize five times,winning once,and has been a finalist for the Governor General's Award several times,winning twice.Her representative novels include The Edible Woman (1969),Surfacing (1972),The Hadmaid's Tale(1985),Cat's Eye(1988),The Robber Bride(1993),The Blind Assassin (2000),Oryx and Crake (2003),etc.The text is from The Act of Writing:Canadian Essays for Composition,3d edition,edited by Ronald Conrad(Toronto:McGraw-Hill Ryerson Limited,1993). 2.Lifebuoy ads:Lifebuoy,a popular brand of soap,aiming to prevent body odor,used to claim in its commercial that"even you best friends won't tell you." 3. Popsicle Pete:Trademark for an old-fashioned bubble gum with wrap papers including mini comic strips
bristle, is a minor and relatively harmless example. More dangerous is the fact that individual Americans seem not to know that the United States is an imperial power and is behaving like one. They don’t want to admit that empires dominate, invade and subjugate-----and live on the proceeds----or, if they do admit it, they believe in their divine right to do so. The export of divine right is much more harmful than the export of Coca-Cola, though they may turn out to be much the same thing in the end. 14 Other empires have behaved similarly (the British somewhat better, Genghis Khan 7 decidedly worse); but they have not expected to be liked for it. It’s the final Americanism, this passion for being liked. Alas, many Americans are indeed likable; they are often more generous, more welcoming, more enthusiastic, less picky and sardonic than Canadians, and it’s not enough to say it’s only because they can afford it. Some of their revolutionary spirit still remains: the optimism, the 18 th-century belief in the fixability of almost anything, the conviction of the possibility of change. However, at cocktail parties and elsewhere one must be able to tell the difference between an individual and a foreign policy. Canadians can no longer afford to think of Americans as only a spectator sport. If Reagan blows up the world, we will unfortunately be doing more than watching it on television. “no annihilation without representation” 8 sounds good as a slogan, but if we run it up the flagpole, who’s going to salute? 15 We are all in this together. For Canadians, the question is how to survive it. For Americans there is no question, because there does not have to be. Canada is just that vague, cold place where their uncle used to go fishing, before the lakes went dead from acid rain. 16 How do you like Americans? Individually, it’s easier. You average American is no more responsible for the state of affairs than your average man is for war and rape. Any Canadian who is so narrow-minded as to dislike Americans merely on principle is missing out on one of the good things in life. The same might be said, to women, of men. As a group, as a foreign policy, it’s harder. But if you like men, you can like Americans. Cautiously. Selectively. Beginning with the feet. One at a time. Cultural Notes: 1. Margaret Atwood (1939- ): a Canadian poet, novelist, literary critic, essayist, and environmental activist. She is a winner of the Arthur C. Clarke Award and Prince of Asturias Award for Literature, has been shortlisted for the Booker Prize five times, winning once, and has been a finalist for the Governor General’s Award several times, winning twice. Her representative novels include The Edible Woman (1969), Surfacing (1972), The Hadmaid’s Tale (1985), Cat’s Eye (1988), The Robber Bride (1993), The Blind Assassin (2000), Oryx and Crake (2003), etc. The text is from The Act of Writing: Canadian Essays for Composition, 3 rd edition, edited by Ronald Conrad (Toronto: McGraw-Hill Ryerson Limited, 1993). 2. Lifebuoy ads: Lifebuoy, a popular brand of soap, aiming to prevent body odor, used to claim in its commercial that “even you best friends won’t tell you.” 3. Popsicle Pete: Trademark for an old-fashioned bubble gum with wrap papers including mini comic strips
4.Gaul:a region of Western Europe during the Iron Age and Roman era,encompassing present day France,Luxembourg,Belgium,most of Switzerland,parts of Northern Italy,as well as the parts of the Netherlands and Germany on the west bank of the Rhine. 5.Draft dodgers:Here refers to the American youngsters who dodge the Vietnam War.They tended to choose Canada as harbor. 6.Syracuse:a city in the State of New York. 7.Genghis Khan(1167?-1227):the founder and Great Khan(emperor)of the Mongol Empire, which became the largest contiguous empire in history after his demise. 8."No annihilation without representation":a quote from British historian Arnold Toynbee (1889-1975).Here Atwood implies that the act of the United States as world police is always sealed with a signature. Comprehension Exercises: Read the following statements and then decide whether each of them is true or false based on the information from the text. 1.Atwood thinks that men and women were in different positions:men are usually the oppressor and women the oppressed. 2.Since Americans are unable to think from other people's perspective,they should be put in a hypothetical situation in which they are in the inferior position just like Canadians are in reality 3.Both individual Americans and the country are friendly to the Canadians. 4.Canadians should not be blamed for their being dominated by the United States. 5.Canadians can no longer regard Americans and their imperial behavior as an exciting game that they watch on TV. Vocabulary exercises: Complete the following sentences by choosing the correct words from the list below.Change the form when necessary. quibble scrape chauvinism a trifle self-righteous snippy bristle subjugate proceeds sardonic 1.People who support equal rights for women fight against male 2.He sold his house and lives on the 3.It was an occupation that appealed to his temper. 4. Such a did not trouble Livingston and his friends. 5.His bestiality made people with anger. 6.His uniform made him look out of place. 7.It shows mankind's subjectivist wish to robots to his mastery 8.He is critical of the monks,whom he considers narrow-minded and 9.Contrary to her gentle temperament.Cindy had been unusually 10.They only just managed to the money together
4. Gaul: a region of Western Europe during the Iron Age and Roman era, encompassing present day France, Luxembourg, Belgium, most of Switzerland, parts of Northern Italy, as well as the parts of the Netherlands and Germany on the west bank of the Rhine. 5. Draft dodgers: Here refers to the American youngsters who dodge the Vietnam War. They tended to choose Canada as harbor. 6. Syracuse: a city in the State of New York. 7. Genghis Khan (1167?-1227): the founder and Great Khan (emperor) of the Mongol Empire, which became the largest contiguous empire in history after his demise. 8. “No annihilation without representation”: a quote from British historian Arnold Toynbee (1889-1975). Here Atwood implies that the act of the United States as world police is always sealed with a signature. Comprehension Exercises: Read the following statements and then decide whether each of them is true or false based on the information from the text. 1. Atwood thinks that men and women were in different positions: men are usually the oppressor and women the oppressed. 2. Since Americans are unable to think from other people’s perspective, they should be put in a hypothetical situation in which they are in the inferior position just like Canadians are in reality. 3. Both individual Americans and the country are friendly to the Canadians. 4. Canadians should not be blamed for their being dominated by the United States. 5. Canadians can no longer regard Americans and their imperial behavior as an exciting game that they watch on TV. Vocabulary exercises: Complete the following sentences by choosing the correct words from the list below. Change the form when necessary. quibble scrape chauvinism a trifle self-righteous snippy bristle subjugate proceeds sardonic 1. People who support equal rights for women fight against male ________. 2. He sold his house and lives on the ________. 3. It was an occupation that appealed to his _________ temper. 4. Such a _________ did not trouble Livingston and his friends. 5. His bestiality made people ________ with anger. 6. His uniform made him look __________ out of place. 7. It shows mankind's subjectivist wish to __________ robots to his mastery. 8. He is critical of the monks, whom he considers narrow-minded and ___________. 9. Contrary to her gentle temperament, Cindy had been unusually __________. 10. They only just managed to __________ the money together
