Sublime: Poems for Vanishing Ice is now freshly launched, following two days of readings, commencing on what was appropriately both World Poetry Day and World Water Day.

Not all 110 poets featured read, but 28 of us came from near and far, with pleasure, gratitude and admiration for Yvonne’s perseverance over the past decade of her work on the trilogy.

Most recently I listened to I Who Have Never Known Men, a post-apocalyptic Belgian novel by Jacqueline Harpman, whose new translation, I gather, has been giving it new life. It was thoughtful, and, like so much speculative fiction, unsettlingly prescient in its depiction, in this case, of unexplained imprisonment. I did appreciate its turning some male views of forced communities – think Lord of the Flies – on their heads. The women in this novel manage to get along and get things done and built. Reading her bio, I see that Harpman was trained as a psychoanalyst, which perhaps explains much about the carefully constructed relationships between the women.

Before that, I was in an entirely different world. A couple of years ago, a friend from my boarding school childhood sent along some comments responding to a review in the Guardian of Charles Spencer’s memoir, A Very Private School. This led me down some rabbit holes, not least of which were a couple of fascinating nonfiction books about boarding school syndrome; Joy Schaverien had coined the term and written about it in a book of that name, as had another therapist, Nick Duffell, in his book The Making of Them.

Though Spencer’s school’s structure and terminology were very close matches to mine, my experiences were, mercifully, without the physical and sexual brutality of Spencer’s schooldays. Girls’ schools are  (were, in the time period Spencer and I share, the seventies) kinder places, at least physically. And perhaps that makes them harder to write about, so there are far fewer books on the topic. Much of what I’ve seen is of the Enid Blyton variety; who knows, perhaps even back then there were a lot of girls who enjoyed the experience.

At a dinner with half a dozen of my former classmates from boarding school days a couple of summers ago, it did seem that most had more or less favourable memories. It may have helped that they had graduated from the school, which means they reached the age when they were able to exercise some control over their lives there than I had when I left after grade 10; and they also graduated under the eye of a different head of school than was running things in my day.

And the actual physical book I’ve been enjoying is Kindest Regards : New and Selected Poems by Ted Kooser. I had heard his name and seen the odd poem but hadn’t sat down with a full collection before. Alas for my shelf space and budget, I was compelled to return the library copy and buy my own as it’s something I expect to dip into for some time to come. Readable and rich in its language – a tough trick to pull off.

And something I had been reflecting on after seeing an old interview with Scottish poet Norman MacCaig, who believed strongly in poetry as a communication. Said that when this had become clear to him, had gone through and edited the obfuscations out of his old work in the interests of clarity.

Here’s one with a German interviewer, from 2003, which is alarmingly prescient in its range of topics, from citizenship, corrupting power of corporate sponsorship, silence (absence of, importance of, for reading and thinking). I also like that he’s not wearing his characteristic bandana!

“I don’t think this is an evil country, I don’t think Americans are evil, I think we’ve had it very easy materially for a long time and we’ve gotten very little help in understanding things that are important besides being comfortable. I don’t think anybody knows how we will react if things get really hard here. And the fact that we’re strong militarily and economically is a good thing, but it’s also a frightening thing.

“My feeling is that the kind of rebellion that will change anything meaningfully here will be very quiet and very individual and probably not all that interesting to look at from the outside…

“Violence is interesting and horrible corruption and scandals is interesting. Rattling sabres and talking about war and demonizing a billion people of a different faith: all that is interesting… “Sitting in a chair and thinking about what all this means, and why what I drive might have something to do with how people in other parts of the world might feel about me probably isn’t that interesting to anybody else.

“I’m a writer, I’m not a politician, I’m not a political thinker. I’m just a scared little American living in California.”

(Full unedited interview is here)

Once I’d firmed up my travel dates, I scheduled a Salt Spring social for local Writers Union of Canada members while I was there, because the night of my reading was also the union’s 50th anniversary, and I thought we might toast its continued success, armed with our 50th anniversary TWUC cookies and a glass of bubbly.

So on the first of November, nine of us met in local writer and artist Briony Penn‘s beautiful home. Writers had come from Nanaimo, Sidney and Victoria as well as Salt Spring. Conversation swiftly broke out, with discussion ranging from difficulties of getting published, to the looming intrusion of Artificial Intelligence in the writing life, whether through books being used without permission to train AI, through the use of AI for editing our writing, or through AI’s replacing live writers for the kind of stock writing – ad copy, product descriptions, copy editing – that pays the bills for so many writers. We talked about copyright and the dramatic decline in payments to authors for use of their works, and about the origins of the union in 1973, and the ‘good old days’ of in-person AGMs where motions were thrashed out, debated, reversed and revised in the pub after hours – and how to carry this spirit on with today’s challenges: much larger membership (2,600), members scattered across the country, carbon footprints, availability of virtual meetings, and questions of time, expense and accessibility.

A heavy rainfall overnight gave way to a sunny afternoon, and an opportunity to browse the food shops, galleries and oddities in Ganges. My reading was gratifyingly well attended, given the dark and dribbly weather. Half a dozen local poets kicked off the evening by reading at the open mic, and only one of these fled the scene before my reading (over the years, I promise you I have been at many readings where the room virtually emptied after the open mic!). I read then, mostly from Larder, and then braced myself for resounding silence at the utterance of “any questions for our reader?” But was surprised at the animated and interesting questions that came up… anything from whether there were subjects I couldn’t write about, to whether writers can make money selling books?

On departure day, I couldn’t resist stopping in at the annual monster book sale which raises funds for literacy on Salt Spring. Books and Bling attracts a lot of readers – early arrivers were  lined up around the barn at the Farmers Institute when I got there shortly before the 10am start, armed with shopping bags and boxes that predicted lively sales. It takes a team of volunteers to run these things, and I was impressed by the efficiency and patience of all concerned, as I trundled off to the ferry with my 3 books and 1 bit of bling!

Turns out there’s a lot happening in Victoria to rescue food from grocery outlets, then sort and redistribute it in various forms.

In keeping with the presentations, all the food on offer had been donated or rescued and then prepared for the participants. The buffet was vast and included  vegetarian, vegan, omnivore and gluten free offerings. All the items were the same or similar to what would be provided to the recipients of some of the organizations represented. There was a predictable surge of interest in sampling some ice cream from 49 Below, and when we had eaten our fill, Mustard Seed’s chef Chris Hammer came out for a bow and a word on his creations.

Speakers represented a wide range of food waste and food security groups: Mustard Seed Food Bank and the Food Security Distribution Centre; Love Food Hate Waste, which targets food waste in the home;  the Food Share Network which coordinates food security nonprofits; the South Island Farm Hub, which arose during the pandemic and continues to support local farmers with distribution; Reroot, which processes surplus food into meals for the Vancouver Downtown East Side; and Community Food Support, which provides a free fridge in Victoria’s Rock Bay neighbourhood.

Here we see a typically Vancouver spin, with tai chi practice at the edge of the literary exhibitor area.

And on my way to the venue I’d passed an outdoor yoga class in the courtyard of the former Nordstrom’s department store. But my main business at the event was overseeing the volunteers who had kindly offered to sit at the table and answer questions about the Writers Union of Canada, for which I am currently BC/Yukon representative.

We shared a table with Joy Kogawa House; good neighbours to have! And luckily for me, almost all the volunteers arrived on time, and I was able to catch a few of the readings and panels, including one featuring two Victoria writers, Lorna Crozier and Eve Joseph, who with Vancouver writer Tara McGuire were discussing Life After Loss, with Vancouver poet Rob Taylor presiding. At the end of the day, I managed to catch the very end of a panel I’d wanted to hear, featuring Hilary Peach and Kate Braid, with Heidi Greco, discussing their writings about working in trades as women.