Globe and Mail piece

So, I'm in the Globe! It's a fairly extensive profile, by Julie Traves, in the Review section (page # varies by region).

Needless to say I'm feeling extremely pleased this morning. I just tried nipping out to the dep, but it was closed unil 9am. Dilemma: do I buy all the copies of the Globe at a given store, in a spending spree of vanity, or do I let them be bought by the regular patrons and thus spread my kleos in Dartmouth?

Update: Finally managed to find a copy (3 copies) of the Globe, and have scanned in the photo you see above, which isn't available online. It's the work of Mr. Brian Atkinson, a talented photographer and heck of a nice guy; he told me he's about to travel to southern Africa these next few weeks, in keeping with his international career.

Halifax school shows

[me with Mr. D. Smith and Mr. B. Khan, teachers at Halifax West High School, yesterday after the fifth performance. Like many a teacher along the Tour, these gentleman gave us a warm welcome]

Two more schools today, Prince Andrew High School and Caledonia Junior High: one show each. Good students, I must say; probably 60 between them. Seven shows in two days! I'm fairly beat, but in good spirits. I think Tour's end and poet's end may coincide.

Seriously, though, they were good shows. Lately I sometimes lose track of what I'm saying, without missing a beat or losing any degree of expression; is this what it's like for Shakespeare actors at one of those ten-year runs of The Taming of the Shrew? What a cushy life!

A couple of notes: halfway through the performance at Prince Andrew today, the PA system (ironically enough) interrupted to make an announcement, and straight away you could see the students rubbing their eyes and coming awake, literally as though they had been dreaming. (I don't usually get to see this, as I bow my head modestly during the applause at the end of shows.) It took a special effort to get them back in the game after that -- it happened just at the death of Wolfe -- but most interestingly I myself was thrown off a bit, not on delivery or memory but on my train of thought: I repeated two key lines without realising it! They were:

But as he spoke, a man rode up : a trusty friend and aide-de-camp
He cried, "They run, my lord! They run! : The French, they flee in headlong rout!"
But red-haired Wolfe just closed his eyes : and with a groan he answered thus
But as he spoke, a man rode up : a trusty friend and aide-de-camp
He cried, "They run, my lord! They run! : The French, they flee in headlong rout!"

You can see that only someone who had been mentally discombobulated could make this kind of error (a sort of aural homoioarcton).

We are looking forward to scoping out the venue for tomorrow's show, St. Paul's Anglican Church in downtown Halifax, before the performance at 7pm. While we're doing that, we shall also visit the site of the first ever performance of The Plains of Abraham, the Halifax docks, where on a bright brisk day in June 2000 I set up shop between two talented Cape Breton fiddler buskers and hoped for an audience. I didn't yet have the big white "Epic Poem" sign featured a few posts ago (I only got it in Sudbury); rather, I had fashioned a very primitive sign out of two brown paper placemats I had stolen from a nearby fish-'n'-chips restaurant. I still have them somewhere.

Tomorrow there should be a piece about me in The Globe and Mail. Needless to say, I will blog it immediately.

Ongoing octametric coverage

Okay, this is frivolous, but I doubt anyone else is providing up-to-the-minute octametric coverage?

So then, behold, the House of Commons : that most glorious institute
Where never member squawked : in days long gone : nor hooted like a bird
Upon the nineteenth day of May : convened upon the lonely Hill
And many were the squabbling parties : bickering amongst themselves
And they were four, the NDP : the partisans of Douglas' name
And Layton was their glorious leader : bearer of a bold moustache
The Tories too were there : an ancient group : the party of Sir John
The great Sir John, a mighty man : who liked a scotch in th' afternoon
And when the sun was sinking back : and falling to the Western sea
And when at morn there rose : towards the east : the soft pink palm of dawn
And they were led by Stephen Harper : sombre in his sombre suit
And then the fearsome Bloc : which led the charge : to ruin Canada
When once upon a time : Lucien Bouchard : the single-legged man
Had founded them, in ancient days : amid the smoke and blood of Meech
And they were led by Gilles Duceppe : the Maoist of steely gaze
And last of all the Liberal Party : legacy of Jean Chretien
The Government indeed : for many years : yet shorn of power now
For when the votes were counted last : they had but a minority
And Martin was their glorious leader : patient through the empty years
So now when all had found their places : there upon the lonely Hill
So then, behold, the Speaker rose : and opened the profound debate
And first of all he named the member :

. . . will be updating this as soon as somebody says anything interesting on Cpac.

---

Update. So, the NDP amendment passed, Cadman voted with the Government, and the Newfoundland Tories were spared their decision.

Such was the excitement, however, that I feel rather burnt out; also, I wonder if octameter is really the right metrical genre for covering these things. Something Aeolic, perhaps, would better convey the sensation of Cadman's rising for Yea. And lyric has no place on this blog.

One last outburst: Obviously the Tories are now in a serious bind. They've pledged to let the Government govern after this, so barring some unforeseen development (and how rare those are these days) they can't, politically speaking, table a confidence motion. But what do they do if the Bloc irritably tries for their own confidence motion? Do they vote that they have confidence in the Government?

Lastly, Dave raises the interesting question of what would happen if the NDP amendment came up for third reading (this was, I believe, the first reading -- or was it the second? No, the first). The Speaker, as he made very clear in casting his tiebreaker today, votes to continue debate; he does not vote to accomplish anything. What then would he do in the case of a third reading? A vote with the Government in that case would be a vote to approve the amendment, ending further discussion. (Update: a constitutional expert informs us that the proper course is for the Speaker not to vote to defeat the Government, as makes sense.)

Epic budget vote

[Kilgour & Cadman]

Just got back from the 5x30-40 minute show stint at Halifax West High School -- c. 175 students in the audience in toto today. I would be absolutely shattered, but for better or for worse I'm glued to the TV (Cpac and Newsworld). Dave just stepped in the door with rootbeer, beernuts, and 5 Alive: this could be a long haul.

My foreign readers will need some explanation. Basically, the minority government of the Liberals is being challenged on its budget. Budget votes are "confidence votes," which a government must win or else resign (go to an election immediately). The governing Liberals have forged a shaky alliance with the socialist party (NDP), at the price of a budget amendment which sends more money in the direction of social spending. Opposed to them are the official opposition, the Tories, supported by the separatist Bloc Quebecois; both are keen to bring down the government because the Liberals are suffering heavily under the scrutiny of the Gomery Inquiry into Liberal corruption in Quebec. As of Monday, the Liberals and NDP together had 150 votes; the Tories and Bloc had 153 votes; there were three independents.

Sensationally, however, on Tuesday the fair Belinda Stronach, political newcomer but apparently fearless political virago, "crossed the floor" from the Tories to the Liberals (she received a mid-level Cabinet seat), ditching not only her party but also her boyfriend, the Tory Deputy Leader. This means it's all tied up, because the Liberals have one of the independents (who had been kicked out of their caucus for being anti-American):152 pro-budget, 152 against, with only two independents -- David Kilgour of Alberta (a former Liberal) and Chuck Cadman of BC (a former Tory) between them deciding whether the budget will stand or fall, and whether we will get an election pronto (or not). Of course, there are a number of wildcards, including whether various MP's will show up to vote, be hauled to hospital (as happened yesterday), etc. etc.

Update: David Kilgour has just announced he will vote against the NDP budget amendment (though apparently in favour of the Liberal budget itself). Chuck Cadman . . . I very much doubt he will back the government after l'affaire Stronach. I would be amazed, myself.

The Tory MP's from Newfoundland. It's all about the Tory MP's from Newfoundland. You read it here eighth.

Actual epic note: I tried the experiment of using the "song tones" / quasi-chanting manner of delivery with some audiences and not others; and the palm certainly goes to the song tones, which undoubtedly enhance audience focus and concentration for the whole poem. I had suspected this was the case, but it's reassuring to have made this empirical comparison. I should blog more on this, but I simply must get back to Cpac. (How many times have you heard that in your life, I wonder?)

Halifax reached

We have reached the great city of Halifax (or rather Dartmouth . . . if I crane my neck from the hotel balcony I can sort of see Halifax). A very pleasant ferry ride into Digby, NS, this afternoon over calmest seas. Dave fell asleep reading about the Spanish Civil War (he informs me that 1930's Spain makes 14th century France look like kindergarten), so I took the opportunity to smash the Ms. Pac-Man record at the ferry arcade (pushing it to 420289). Unbeknownst to most, I retain awesome Pac-Man skills from days long gone. Unfortunately, the game is so primitive (c.1981; of course, I was only 4 when it came out) that it doesn't let you input your initials. I can only hope some hapless ferry employee will come in tomorrow morning and find his precious record blasphemed. Only he will know.

I see that the Ottawa performance was written up in Embassy Magazine (11 May), read by the diplomatic community in Ottawa. Perhaps, even as I type, a cultural attaché is drafting a note to the Swedish Academy:

Ottawa native Jack Mitchell is reviving epic poetry for Canada. Drawing from the classical Greek tradition of the epic, Mr. Mitchell, currently a Ph.D. candidate at California's Stanford University, blends his love of the classics with his pride of Canadian history into a 50 minute epic poem performance delivered in verse recounting the 1759 Battle of the Plains of Abraham, which took place in Quebec City with the English defeating the French as part of a series of battles for control of North America. Mr. Mitchell was in Ottawa May 8 and 9 performing his epic poem, the sixth of eleven stops on a cross-Canada tour, sponsored by the Dominion Institute. Now Canadian history's Gen. James Wolfe and Marquis Louis-Joseph de Montcalm have all the glory and heroism associated with Homer's Achilles and Hector at the Siege of Troy.

We must run to get food, we are famished. Tomorrow is a big day: I'll be performing at least 5 (perhaps as many as 8) times at Halifax West High School. This may smash the endurance epic record set at York Street Elementary on May 9th: was that Ms. Pac-Man game an omen?

Saint John Miscellany

[me in Sault Ste. Marie during the 2000 Tour; this was the sign I used to attract audiences. I had a taste for loud shirts in them days]

Well, it's certainly been an interesting day in Canadian politics, by golly. I've finished the Barbara Tuchman book about the 14th century, though, so nothing fazes me anymore. No one has even been poisoned yet.

In other news, I just noticed that www.plainsofabraham.ca has been moving up the Google rankings. It's #1 under "plainsofabraham" (displacing www.plainsofabraham.com, the American rock band's site), and #9 under "plains of abraham" (following, in order, someone's pictures of their trip to the battlefield; the Battlefields Park site; the CBC People's History TV segment; wikipedia; and two history-oriented sites). As Google rankings pretty much dictate the divine will by now, this is nice to see.

(Update: #1 for "plains" & "epic"; #1 for "abraham" & "epic"; a dedicated link to the site at #3 for "epic" & "canadian." Not even in the Top 10 for "epic" & "performance," however.)

Speaking of random Google searches, I noticed some rather striking, Ani DeFranco-esque lyrics to a song titled "Plains of Abraham." Yet more proof of the strikingly Biblical resonance of the battlefield's name; it goes to show that once a phrase gets out into the popular consciousness it will be reinterpreted. What, one wonders, is the imagined relationship between plains and Abraham? Caanan is not, to my shoddy recollection, described as flat. In my mind, Abraham is associated with mountains. Does he walk across plains to get to the mountain? I can't find anything about that in Genesis, though Cecil B. DeMille would certainly have insisted on it.

The true story of how the Plains of Abraham (Canadian version) got their name is that they were named after Abraham Martin, called "The Scot." (This Abraham was a pilot; piloting was a very international profession at the time.) He apparently settled inland from the shore upriver from Cap Diamant; the Heights along the shore were thus called, logically enough, the "Heights of Abraham," while the plateau at their top was called the "Plains of Abraham." Curiously enough, the battle is still known as the "Battle of the Heights of Abraham" to the British. Even though this phrase would seem to correspond more adroitly with the Patriarch's story, it seems that the word "plains" carries a much more biblical resonance in and of itself than does the word "heights" (which has all but disappeared in contemporary speech except in the "fear of heights").

People sure are friendly in the Maritimes. There I was today, driving like mad to reach a rendezvous with a Globe and Mail photographer at Fort Howe downtown and faced with an unexpected toll bridge across the bay; and not a single coin on me, or anywhere in the car. (I know; I searched madly while actually parked in the toll lane at the machine.) And what happens, of course, but the big pickup behind me starts honking its horn and blinking its lights, and the thought is crossing my mind that I'm about to be scaled, when lo & behold the guy walks up to my car and hands me the coins for the toll with a smile. Perhaps this is a regular occurance here, or indicative of something or other, but for someone used to the take-no-prisoners highway ethos of California, it was deeply unsettling.

Tomorrow morning, we take the ferry to Digby, NS. My memory of it from last Tour is less than 100% cheerful: I had camped in the Annapolis valley somewhere or other, in the pouring rain, and was profoundly damp all the following day, crossing in the other direction to Saint John.

Route up to Saint John (map link)

Here's an updated map of our route so far. We've come 9 052 kilometers, or 5,624 miles. The car is in great shape, but I must say one looks ahead to the Newfoundland portion of the Trans-Canada with something approaching dismay (or so one would if one hadn't heard of the spectacular scenery there and the fine city at journey's end -- neither Dave nor I have ever been to the Rock before, and we are psyched in that regard).

Route up to Saint John.gif

Once again, your browser will probably shrink the map to fit it; click on the image to zoom in.

I'm to be interviewed again tomorrow, this time for Radio-Canada's Atlantic radio; and will be photographed here for the Globe and Mail piece. I believe both will appear on Saturday.

Religion in the poem

Having just returned from the Saint John show, where I performed in St. Paul's Parish Centre (adjacent to the church itself), I thought I'd briefly comment on the role of religion in the poem, and the audience's view of it.

First of all, though there is a bit of religious background in the poem, it couldn't remotely qualify as a religious poem. Religion is basically confined to the following points:

• when Wolfe's soldiers burn a church ("Ste. Anne's inviolable temple") and kill its priest, the latter's "dying cry" for vengeance is responsible Wolfe's sickness
• Wolfe's dream mentions that "the angels and the saints" now refer to the Plains of Abraham as "the Fields of Grief"
• in some performances, "gentle sleep" is shed by "some demon" on the sentries' eyes at L'Anse-au-Foulon
• whenever the Ursulines appear, they're described as having vowed to be "the brides of Christ"
• occasionally a priest says Mass, in which case the following 2-line formula is deployed:

And there the holy priest : with silent step : brought forth the bread and wine
In pious sacrifice to God : the vessels of the Word made flesh

• The mother of the Ursulines at one point prays to the Virgin, and in response the Virgin is explicitly said to weep (resulting in "mistiness and fog" on earth)
• they bury Montcalm in the chapel of the Ursulines, which is described as "the holy place of Christ" a couple of times
• various references throughout (in lines of 3-part metrical shape) to "Heaven's power"
  

It will be seen that these "religious" points basically add period detail: everything is implicitly "focalised" (perceived from a character's point of view), perhaps through the habitants, as in this couplet:

And soon they reached the holy chapel : where the painted altar stood
Before the English soldiers came : across the cold Atlantic sea

and this applies even to the Virgin's tears as rain on the battlefield. Also, everything is quite vague. In this, I follow Homer, whose religious material is Panhellenic in scope, incorporating no local peculiarities and consequently representing a Greek religion that is, as it were, slightly out of focus. In my poem, I'm vague precisely so as to maintain that inclusive point of view.

(Sometimes, indeed, I am apparently too vague -- or too Homeric. All the way across the Prairies, Dave, who has never tried to pass for a theologian, kept discreetly mentioning that one line, in the mouth of the mother of the Ursulines no less, was perhaps rather theologically incorrect:

And none was yet to woman born : who tasted of eternal life

Being stubborn, I tried to defend this, but ultimately there's no denying that this idea doesn't sound authentic. So I dropped it for a while, though I'm now saying "Few were yet to woman born" etc., which I think is OK.)

To return: could one compose a poem whose action takes place in New France and not mention religion? I doubt it. Yet it remains a tricky subject. Partly, there are a lot of secular people around who just get a bad taste in their mouths at mention of the word "God" -- as do a lot of religious people. (A secular person myself, I think such a reaction is foolish -- an inherited peasant superstition if there ever was one.) Partly also, "religious" people nowadays don't know how to react to my injection of the fairly Gothic, quasi-medieval 18th-century Catholic point of view, the Christian religion being basically unrecognisable these days (very Jesus-oriented, I find, even apud Catholicos). A couple of times, older women have sheepishly blessed me after the show.

Overall, though -- and this is the important thing -- nobody minds the presence of religion in the poem; the worst reaction I've had was at a Catholic school, where the students temporarily lost interest at the first appearance of the holy priest's silent step (neither he nor the Ursulines reappeared that performance). No one mistakes me for an 18th-century Catholic; no one accuses me of propagating some heresy. I attribute this excellent response to the ability of epic to present potentially divisive things -- first and foremost the English-French rivalry, but also religion -- in an elevated manner, separate from reality and therefore detached from the real purpose of the poem, which is historical.

This is fortunate for me, because while I've had to eliminate almost all supernatural elements from and can't get away with having Olympians charging to and fro across the battlefield (much less debating the plot chez Zeus), I seriously wonder how else I could achieve the instant long-term perspective you get by invoking things like Fate, Heaven's power, etc. I would have to digress every time in order to achieve that, using five lines where I can (as things stand) use half a line or less -- thanks to the shorthand we call religion.