Jean Rivard - University of British Columbia

Books in Review
Laurence's texts, however, do approach
belles lettres. Reading A Very Large Soul
translates into a conversation with
Margaret Laurence. She is warm and funny
and astonishingly insightful. The way
Laurence turns a single phrase into a philosophical
meditation and then in the next
minute becomes endearingly colloquial
invokes the reader as friend and member of
her "tribe." Everything she writes is about
people and place and the way language can
be manipulated to signify anything:
"Anything that happens anywhere in the
world, in some way happens in one's own
town." Laurence addresses the notion of an
inner and outer geography strongly
grounded in the concept of grace. She
insists on the importance of ancestry both
familial and within the community of
wordsmiths. "We must bear witness to our
own people and our own lives," she says.
Most heartbreaking for the reader of
Laurence's letters is having to bear witness
to her struggle to write after The Diviners.
While she offers hopeful reassurance to her
readers (both original reader as well as
those reading now), the level of her despair
is impossible to ignore: "I do not feel that
at present I can call myself a writer ... I did
try to help other and younger writers. Now
I need help. A shocking thought? Mum isn't
strong? You bet she isn't." She continually
provides support to the numerous people
who address her regarding their own writing.
The insight and regard she instills in
each reading is a loving caress grounded in
astounding intelligence. There is always
affirmation and praise in her responses and
any critical comments are prefaced by "but
this is only my opinion." She announces
various political positions regarding the
French language issue, censorship, women's
rights or religion. The letters flow between
various, I hesitate to use the word,
"themes," with each writer offering a new
aspect in which Margaret Laurence is well
versed. She constructs herself as matriarch
of the inheritors "my own real kids among
them, and in a profound sense, all those
young people are my children, and yours,
and all of ours, in this strange but surviving
tribe of ours, the story-tellers."
If Margaret Laurence is matriarch and
story-teller, then Glenn Gould must surely
be the trickster. He manipulates both text
and music in an attempt to locate and dislocate
the reader/listener while constantly
resisting notions of stability. He is able to
use many different registers of language
which range from the muscial to the theoretical.
He often uses pseudonyms to construct
alternate identities. I recall listening
to program on CBC about Gould where
they were still uncertain as to the correct
spelling of Glenn because he varied the
spelling so often. He would play incorrect
notes on purpose in order to enhance
sound quality and he deliberately staged
interviews so they sounded natural and
spontaneous. He did not believe in the
necessity for an audience, rather he preferred
solitude and the capacity to change
the already played.
Guertin notes that "the letter and the
recording studio represent two places ·>
where communication can occur in the
absence of others." Gould was addicted to
both forms of communication. Perhaps
some fo the most revealing pieces are those
which are replies to various fan letters.
Gould often responds with humour and
always with the utmost consideration.
Every letter is given a serious and thoughtful
answer even when slightly or not so
slightly delayed. Much of the collection
outlines Gould's precise planning, with the
extended footnotes operating as both a history
and discography. One letter stands out
from all the others. It is worth transcribing
here in its entirety.
You know
I am deeply in love with a certain beaut,
girl. I asked her to marry me but she
turned me down but I still love her more
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