Labyrinth of love, no hedges

When I love someone, boy, I don’t hide it. Not one bit. And, most folks who know me know I have a certain affinity for work written by Carol Shields — which led me to spend this past weekend in Winnipeg at the Carol Shields Symposium on Women’s Writing: Festival of Voices.

While I won’t offer an in-depth summary of the conference events here on the blogosphere, I will say that I enjoyed going very much. Unlike conferences I’ve been to in recent years, it was non-hierarchical; sessions were open-ended, and there was a certain authenticity about the whole affair. Folks looked at my face first, rather than my chest or breasts so they can read my name tag and search for signs of recognition or prestige. Women-centered conferences have this completely different feel to them — which I like very much. While I don’t think this conference made me love Shields’ work more (although I hadn’t read her plays yet and I did get to hear bits from them — which was great), it did bring me to some questions about her work that I didn’t have before.

For instance, I was struck — really struck and puzzled — with the question: why Shields didn’t write more about class and racial relations in Canada? Why is there no attention to the aboriginal population and their struggles (particularly in Manitoba and its surrounding provinces)? What about the postcolonial question? I hate to be critical of one of my very favorite writers but I can’t get these sorts of questions out of my mind. Maybe staying in downtown Winnipeg made me overly aware of these things or maybe I’m just sensitive because I’ve become such an activist in my own work, but why ignore these very important and pressing issues?

After attending this conference I also know now that other ideas I’ve had about her work for some time now (and that I still haven’t addressed in my own writing) absolutely need to be discussed and addressed on a larger scale. I’m mainly referring to the problem of her ghettoization as a white Western woman writer (which I’m now afraid is a peg-hole she in part made for herself by ignoring Canadian indigenous cultures). White woman writer or not, though, Shields’ ghettoization still remains a serious issue, if we find her work valuable enough to read and continue studying for centuries to come. Here are the problems: a.) only women tend to read her work b.) it’s described in tandem with domestic literature c.) she’s not read enough in the U.S. even though she was born in Chicago d.) she’s not anthologized enough — not nearly enough e.) most folks only read The Stone Diaries and very little else; true, it’s her best but she’s not a one-hitter by any means f.) she needs to be contextualized in reference to the larger picture of Canadian literature. I’m not sure how experts in this field define it, but all I’m going to say is: if both indigenous, colonialist, and post-colonialist literatures aren’t included in that category there’s some serious problems with our understanding of Canadian Lit.

The ethical reality of academia I’ve arrived at is this: regardless of what subject position(s) we inhabit, we must, must, push our ourselves and our consciousnesses beyond what we know or that knowledge with which we feel comfortable. If you inhabit a position of power, which you automatically do if you work inside the white towers of academia, you must begin to speak — even if you get it wrong at first — for those who can not yet do so for themselves. In part (for there are many reasons) this reflects part (as I’ve already said) of my affection for feminists labeled in alliance with the 2nd wave. I’m thinking of Gilbert and Gubar specifically here, though given more time I’m sure I could name others. G & G were accused of something similar to what I’m laying at Shields’ feet here. And, they got some serious criticism for it. I mean serious. I’d be a cave-woman in the Alps if I had to endure what they did. But, instead of curling up and dying, becoming a cave-woman, or a contemplative hermit cloistered away in an anchorhold (another one of my fantasies derived from my affection and admiration for Julian of Norwich) — no, instead of these alternatives — they kept on writing. And, if you pay close attention, which few have noticed, they DO address and try to correct those things they might have overlooked or not been conscious of in previous scholarly studies. They’re seriously engaged intellectuals. But returning my quandary about Shields — when I politely and sheepishly asked around about “the aboriginal question” in reference to Shields, well, the answers I got a.) seemed to be something that had never occurred to them before or b.) got dismissed because she’s a “white woman’s author” who didn’t want to stir up controversy. I never had the privilege of meeting Shields, but I’m 90% certain that wouldn’t have been her response. Like G & G, though certainly not the same, Shields also seemed, to me, to be a seriously engaged woman while she was living. To mimic Daisy Stone Goodwill Flett’s words “I am not at peace” at the end of The Stone Diaries — “I am not yet satisfied.”

There is always more to say, but I’ll stop there for now.

Below are some pics from the Carol Shields labyrinth memorial in Winnipeg, Manitoba. The labyrinth idea, for those of you not familiar with Sheilds’ work, comes from her exquisite novel Larry’s Party.