Susan Swan, novelist and co-founder of the Carol Shields Prize for Fiction, sits with a copy of Alice Munro’s book Open Secrets during a roundtable discussion on Munro at the offices of The Globe and Mail in Toronto on July 15.Melissa Tait/The Globe and Mail
Do protest
Re “Can protesting the Giller Prize really help end the Gaza war?” (Opinion, July 27): This suggests that cultural boycott campaigns targeting corporations with ties to the Israeli military and arms trade won’t have a material effect. Yet there has already been tangible impact from continuing pressure on Bank of Nova Scotia.
After months of bad publicity and rolling disruptions (including the televised disruption at last year’s Giller Prize gala, counterprogramming at the Scotiabank-sponsored Hot Docs and the recent Giller withdrawals), the bank announced that it’s divested over half its stake in Israeli arms manufacturer Elbit Systems. This was the first change to its holdings in more than 10 years.
Artists aren’t trying to abstractly achieve some sort of moral purity, but are instead identifying pressure points in our industries where we do have leverage. We won’t sit back and accept the siege on Gaza as a given.
Michael Deforge, Author; organizer, CanLit Responds Toronto
Protest matters, and can have positive results.
Will pulling our books from Giller Prize consideration immediately end the war in Gaza? I don’t think any of us are foolish enough to think that, but to be otherwise silent presumes we’re also complicit.
I wouldn’t want to be part of a prize that, through direct sponsorship, supports such actions as what is occurring in Gaza. This is caveat emptor.
This is us saying: No, enough. No more.
rob mclennan Ottawa
I was surprised to read the argument that Giller Prize protests will not help the people of Gaza.
Financial reporting has directly tied protests to Scotiabank’s decision to halve its $500-million investment in Elbit Systems. Scotiabank’s investment in Elbit is still huge compared with Toronto-Dominion Bank and Royal Bank of Canada’s $3-million investment combined.
Concrete wins aside, there’s profound symbolic power to these protests. They tell anyone making decisions in Canadian business that not only is investing in weapons manufacturing during a civilian assault unpopular, it’s becoming intolerable.
These protests have also shown artists that even in dire economic times, we don’t have to take whatever we can get. We don’t have to accept funding from sources that compromise ourselves, our art and our organizations.
We can find value elsewhere: in our collectivity. We protect ourselves and our art when we stand together.
Thea Lim Toronto
This recalls a recent controversy in Britain over book festivals long sponsored by Baillie Gifford, a Scottish asset manager.
Fossil Free Books, a collective, opposes Baillie Gifford’s investments in not only companies tied to Israeli security but also oil and gas. But the collective and its supporters overestimated their influence over a sponsor’s investment choices.
As festivals, authors and art galleries protested, Baillie Gifford instead divested from the festivals and galleries.
Howard Teasley Vancouver
Talk it out
Re “Let’s talk about it: How do you solve a problem like Alice Munro?” (Arts & Books, July 27): While I recognize the huge artistic talent of Alice Munro, I also recognize the serious damage she did to Andrea Skinner.
Right now, I believe it’s the child’s needs that are paramount, not Ms. Munro’s talent, and as such I choose to stand with Ms. Skinner by not reading her mother’s work.
I may read her again some years hence, but now I would feel as if I were betraying Ms. Skinner.
Patricia Paul-Carson Ottawa
Well, you don’t solve it. As novelist Susan Swan said, “Judging is for people who don’t want to think.” And, it could be added, who don’t want to feel.
If we can bear it, Alice Munro’s short stories illuminate situations that require us to think and feel profoundly uncomfortable ambiguities. If we can’t? Close the book and put it back on the shelf, or throw it out. But don’t blame Ms. Munro.
Great art does not exist to solve problems. Her piercing talent focuses laser attention on problems we lack the moral energy to solve. She makes us complicit in her flawed humanity.
She reminds us that we, too, forgive ourselves the unforgivable. We should forgive her that.
Ellen Anderson Summerside, P.E.I.
When my brother-in-law’s book club read The Myth of Normal: Trauma, Illness and Healing in a Toxic Culture by physician Gabor Maté with his son Daniel Maté, the group agreed to encourage their own grown-up children to read the book. The men believed their grandchildren would be helped by having trauma-informed parents.
Those who puzzle about Alice Munro would also do well to read it. The physician and author has himself weighed in on the Munro debate. He speculates that her continued loyalty to someone who molested her child suggests she too carried a “deep trauma imprint that overrode her mothering impulses.”
Given the reality and extent of child abuse in Canada, we all, including readers of literature, could do well to become trauma-informed.
Moira Walker Victoria
Speaking of
Re “Who has an accent? Depends on who you ask” (Opinion, July 27): Poking fun at accents is not only a legacy of Western colonialism and imperialism, as is suggested.
British people seem to love nothing more than to poke fun at many of their own regional accents, like Glaswegian, Geordie and Scouse.
It’s no different in North America: Americans have been known to mock Canadians; Canadians known to mock Maritimers; Maritimers known to mock Newfoundlanders. It’s not always malicious. It’s usually an expression of curiosity and an attempt at human connection, albeit a clumsy one.
The legacies of colonialism and imperialism on language are not exclusive to Western culture. It’s a global phenomenon. It’s why Arabic is spoken in places such as Morocco and Algeria, for example, areas far flung from its origins on the Arabian Peninsula.
Mark Bessoudo London
I am of Indian origin. Although English is not my “mother tongue,” it is my first language.
I do speak Kannada, Tamil and Hindi well enough, though not well enough to avoid comments from people in India. I am often told admiringly it is great that I speak as well as I do; I am sometimes laughed at for my mistakes.
The purpose of language is primarily to communicate. But it may be disingenuous to deny that when language is spoken in a certain way, it does evoke admiration and pleasure.
I would ask non-native English speakers to look closely at their birth countries and how, throughout history, the way we speak has been used to categorize people, whether it is Spanish or Urdu, Hindi or Polish. And as a country of immigrants, I would hope that native English-speaking Canadians, in turn, would have patience with us non-native English speakers.
Jyothi Jayaraman Vancouver
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