BOOKS IN REVIEWwho are part <strong>of</strong> and thus support thedominant ideology.Beatrice Culleton is a Métis. Shemissed "rezzy" but experienced fosterhomes. Pemmican Publishers have notimposed an academic editor on eitherThe Search For April Raintree or the revisedApril Raintree. The result is a bookthat comes from the heart and from theguts, a book full <strong>of</strong> gentleness, love, trust,and hope, a book full <strong>of</strong> anger at theblind stupidity <strong>of</strong> the past, a book full <strong>of</strong>pain because <strong>of</strong> the precious lives wastedand lost as a result <strong>of</strong> bigotry and abuse.Academics will have much to criticize.The structure is flawed, the writing uneven,there are grammatical errors, andmuch <strong>of</strong> the dialogue is preachy andpolemic. It is the work <strong>of</strong> an apprenticingwriter, it is the work <strong>of</strong> a person whohas much to learn <strong>of</strong> her chosen craft.The improvement in writing skill from InSearch <strong>of</strong> April Raintree to the revisedApril Raintree shows that this writer ismore than willing to pay her dues andimprove her skills.The story is incredible and has thesame stark and unapologetic honesty asMaria Campbell's excellent autobiographyHalfbreed. Beatrice Culleton hasnot wasted her time writing this book,and you won't waste your time readingit, and re-reading it. This is what we'veall been claiming we have been workingto find and perfect, this is the voice <strong>of</strong>our country, this is part <strong>of</strong> that CanadianIdentity we all claim to cherish.This is a book that dares us to think, toconsider our past ignorance and move totake responsibility for our personal andnational inaction. "Those who will nottake responsibility for and learn from themistakes <strong>of</strong> the past are doomed to repeatthem."We are a culture which places littlevalue on the lives <strong>of</strong> our children; wepay lip service to ideals while ignoringreality. This book is a result <strong>of</strong> that dishonesty,and should be required readingfor everyone who will ever, in any way,deal with the education and well-being<strong>of</strong> children. I suppose it is too much tohope that the schools <strong>of</strong> social work anddepartments <strong>of</strong> education will use thisbook as a text, but even if the administratorsprefer to ignore it, those who arein teaching positions should recommendit to their students. Beatrice Culleton'stwo older sisters, raised in foster homes,committed suicide. Beatrice has writtena fine book.Spirit <strong>of</strong> The White Bison is a children'sstory which outlines, through theeyes <strong>of</strong> and in the lifetime <strong>of</strong> one buffalo,the decimation caused when, for politicalreasons, the great herds were annihilated.At a time when the B.C. government ispaying wildlife biologists to ride aroundin helicopters shooting wolves from theair, at a time when acid rain is killingour lakes and pesticide and herbicideoveruse is rampant, at a time when boththe Atlantic and Pacific coast fishingfleets are in serious trouble and our fishstocks are seriously endangered, this bookchallenges us to examine our past andrethink our future.Are we to sit complacent and stupidwhile everything follows the buffalo?Will we unthinkingly accept the idea thepr<strong>of</strong>essional foresters can be trusted withthe last <strong>of</strong> the trees in the country? Willwe wait to see if Meares Island can survivethe logging companies, will we doand say nothing while poison is sprayedon our food, or will we wake up beforethe nightmare has moved on to its ownillogical and insane conclusion.Little children will be quite upset bythis book; older children will probablysee more clearly than adults what ourchoices must be. Again, there are flawsin the structure and grammar; but assomeone once said, there will always beroom in the world for someone with agood story.165
BOOKS IN REVIEWBeatrice Culleton is a writer who obviouslyhas many good stories. I wait withanticipation for her next work. Theshelves are full <strong>of</strong> beautifully craftedpieces <strong>of</strong> highly educated and trainedwriting done by people who don't haveanything at all to say. It is a relief and apersonal vindication to find two books s<strong>of</strong>ull <strong>of</strong> honesty, commitment, and love.CONTE & MEMOIRANNE CAMERONDAVID WATMOUGH, Fury. ОЬеГОП, $12-95.JACQUES FERRON, Selected Tales <strong>of</strong> JacquesFerron, trans.$9-95-Betty Bednarski. Anansi,THESE TWO COLLECTIONS insist on verydiverse responses from the reader. Watmough'scharacters are mostly <strong>British</strong>,Ferron's mostly Québécois. Ferron'sstories are variations on the traditionalcontes <strong>of</strong> rural Quebec, and many thereforehave a broad element <strong>of</strong> fantasy.Watmough's stories are realistic, close attimes to documentary naturalism, so they<strong>of</strong>ten read like personal memoirs. Watmough'sstrongest regional attachmentsare Cornish; his is an old world identity.Ferron's regional identity is split betweenurban and rural Québec, but is unmistakablynew world. And while Ferronusually looks out upon the world andtries to explain it, Watmough seems justas eager to explain himself to himselfand us.Perhaps I should have said Watmough'snarrator explains himself, but inFury one is never aware <strong>of</strong> the significantdifferences between David Bryant andhis creator, David Watmough, if thereare any. Here is how the book begins.Note how Davey documents his territory.The Mile-End Road is a broad thoroughfarerunning due east out <strong>of</strong> the City <strong>of</strong>London, from Aldgate toward Stratford-atte-Bow. Its foundations knew the feet <strong>of</strong> theRoman Legions and in the late nineteenthirtiesits sidewalks were familiar withmine. In 1937, when I first attended thevenerable institution known as The Coopers'Company School (founded 1535), thatroad seemed far wider to my eleven-yearoldlegs than it does now to my middleagedones. And the fears it evoked were <strong>of</strong>a dimension I am rarely subjected to nowadaysin the calm <strong>of</strong> Western Canada.And here is how the story "The BicycleBoy" ends. Note once more how he documentsthe place. "We phoned Blake'sTaxi Service from that bright red phonebooth close by Tretawn, which Mr. Ye<strong>of</strong>armed, and George Blake came intwenty minutes, put the bikes in thetrunk and drove us home." Blake's taxiservice, the phone booth, where Mr. Ye<strong>of</strong>armed, and George Blake himself: theseare signposts <strong>of</strong> Davey's memory, notsymbols, not material introduced earlierin the story so that Watmough coulddramatize it or in some way exploit it.We see these items here, virtually for thefirst time. In a similar way, Grove photographedand catalogued much <strong>of</strong> hisexperience (also as an immigrant) in theWest.Some <strong>of</strong> Ferron's stories also have thefeel <strong>of</strong> the personal memoir, "The Ladyfrom Ferme-Neuve," for instance, andseveral pieces in which the narrator, likeFerron, was a physician. But when Ferronrestricts himself to realistic reportage,he automatically restricts the range <strong>of</strong>his imagination and <strong>of</strong>ten, thereby, hispowers <strong>of</strong> invention. Watmough is therealist, Ferron the fabulist.By far the best book is Ferron'sSelected Tales, not simply because this isa selection <strong>of</strong> some <strong>of</strong> his best work, butbecause the tales themselves bespeak arich imagination. Rich and bizarre. In"Mélie and the Bull," for example, wehave a bull calf who wants to be a poet.He is the sole delight <strong>of</strong> his mistressMélie, wife <strong>of</strong> a habitant. Instead <strong>of</strong>166
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