Retrospective : Names

I've surfaced after a 9 month silence, inspired by a Christmas Eve breakfast conversation related to the musical Cats and T. S. Eliot's poem, "The Naming of the Cats".  Searching for the poem, I realize that I did a blog post on the subject five years ago.  Here it is, a nostalgic retrospective.  Because today I have time.  Merry Christmas, everyone.

Names

None of the names is familiar to me.  Although I took the time in the fifteen minutes before the oratory contest to write the names of the contestants on each of the adjudication sheets the other judges and I have in our packages, I can’t find the Smith-Jones* my fellow judge has assigned to first place.  He has put Findley in second, and I can’t find that contestant, either.  I can find Amanda, and Tom, and Chelsey, and Brandon, and Stephanie, though.   I dig out my program from the pile of adjudication forms, and attempt to match the speakers’ first names to the last names I hear.  Even in the first two minutes of our discussion to finalize winners in each of the categories, I am uncomfortable referring to people by their last name.

For my judging partner, a police officer, wielding last names seems natural and comfortable.  The officer certainly means no disrespect.  Before the contest began, he chatted with the young people in the audience.  His genuine smile and evident interest in what they had to say established an easy rapport.    So, why would using last names be so normal for him yet spur such a visceral reaction in me?

He might be used to it, I speculate.  I would wager he remembers being called by his last name during his own training.   At that point, I ask myself in what contexts individuals might be called by their last name.   I come up with military and police recruits.  Boarding schools.  Sports teams.  Professional athletes.     Aristocratic men (Darcy, Bingley from Pride and Prejudice).   Authors.  As I have never been part of the military or the police, have never attended a boarding school or been part of a school sports team and definitely am not (yet) a professional athlete, a published novelist or a member of the aristocracy, calling people by their last names is foreign to me.  It’s not how I do things.

Throughout my career, I have always used first names.  I knew my students and my colleagues as Brittany, Cindy, Tom, or Dave.  Not Tremblay, Smith, Jones, or Findley.  Any last names I might have used have always been hooked up to an appellation like Miss, Mrs. or Mr. In fact,  names are so sacred to me that whenever I have been called by my last name (without appellation), I have always felt demeaned and intimidated, as if my identity as a person had been stripped away, and I had become a faceless object.  Which, in the end, might very well have been the intent.  

Our names are inextricably linked to our perception of ourselves.  That’s why most parents reflect a long time and weigh all possibilities for nicknames, initials, or connotations before naming their child.   That’s why bullies often torture their victim’s name as part of their concerted attack on the individual.  Their contortion can associate the name with unflattering, even lewd, overtones.   Any attack on our name targets our very identity, strikes at our essence, and disarms us.   T. S. Eliot alludes to the importance of our names in developing our identity in his poem, ‘The Naming ofthe Cats.’

In Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats, the poem that inspired Andrew Lloyd Weber’s musical Cats, T. S. Eliot writes that a cat needs not only its everyday name and its fancy name.  A cat, Eliot reflects, needs  “a name that's particular, / A name that's peculiar, and more dignified.”  Without such a name, “how can he keep up his tail perpendicular, / Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?”  Without esteem for its name, a cat can’t be who it’s meant to be.  It can’t hold its tail up or spread out its whiskers.  Without names that are significant and instill pride, humans can’t be who they are meant to be either.  When they are not called by their particular, dignified names, their identity is compromised, and they will not actualize nor showcase their innate abilities and talents, that is, hold their tails perpendicular or spread out their whiskers.

When I first heard those words, sitting in the audience at Cats, I scratched them down in the dark in the small notebook I stowed in my purse for those occasions.  I recalled them after the oratory contest, as I reflected on why the use of last names might affect me so deeply.    In my worldview, a person’s name, so representative of identity, is sacrosanct.  Its utterance inspires growth and translates respect.

*Names in this post are fictitious.

Connecting the Dots

I may have watched Chopped, on Food Network, too many times.  When I saw leftover whipping cream in the fridge the other day, I synapsed to the frozen pomegranate seeds I had purchased on sale to try, still in the freezer.  Oh, and beside them I found the silvanas one of my Filipino friends brought back for me from her visit home.   I could make a parfait!!  Maybe add blueberries and homemade custard?

You might know the cooking competition that challenges four chefs to combine four disparate ingredients in each of three rounds into a delicious dish.  One chef is "chopped" after each of the appetizer, entrée, and dessert rounds, until a champion is crowned.  

Thank goodness, watching Chopped has not been a colossal waste of precious time.  I’ve learned a lot about cooking.  Over the years, my knowledge of ingredients has certainly broadened, along with the cooking techniques for these ingredients and their pairings.  Even more important, I’ve retained some of what NOT to do.

As a result, this recipe-bound cook has, from time to time, risked forging ahead on her own sans recipe.  So, the silvanas, coarsely chopped, lined the bottom of martini glasses as the base of the parfait.  On top went homemade custard, then pomegranates and blueberries, then whipped cream.  Another layer of silvanas, custard, fruit, and cream, topped with a dusting of the silvana crumbs and some toasted slivered almonds.  Not bad for my first original dessert.

I had gone from a container of whipping cream to pomegranates, silvanas and custard,  culminating ultimately in a parfait.   Not only had I successfully connected the dots; I had recognized them in the first place.  In this case, the dots  were potential ingredients for a dish.  But, in other contexts, they could have been information from various sources on a particular topic.   Or  life experiences over a few weeks.   Or manifestations that could explain a particular phenomenon.  

An exercise in critical thinking par excellence, connecting dots involves analysis of objects or events,  interplay with one’s prior knowledge, and the ability to come up with something new—in short, the highest level of Bloom’s Taxonomy of Cognition, the creation of a theory, a hypothesis, or an explanation to be further tested and refined.  Anderson, L. W., & Krathwohl, D. R. (2001) define it as the  "compil[ation] of  information together in a different way by combining elements in a new pattern or proposing alternative solutions."

So why is this a big deal?   It means that mechanics can figure out what’s wrong with a vehicle given some noises, lights or smells; a teacher can differentiate instruction for a child based on observations, conversations, or products; a doctor can make a diagnosis from test results, symptoms or patient descriptions; and a detective solve a case from clues, interviews, or photographs.   Every day, it means we can figure out what might be bothering a friend from conversations or events, or  assess conclusions we hear in the news based on multiple sources of information.

So what might people good at dot-connection have in common?  In my experience:

•     They can recognize the dots.  They can see commonalities between things happening in the present and events, details, statements or images they recall from the past.

•     They retain a healthy sceptism.  They don’t take things at face value.  Someone connects some dots to arrive at a particular conclusion?  They stop to wonder whether that conclusion is legitimate.  They wonder if any dots were left out, intentionally or inadvertently, or if, in fact, the connections are logical.

•     They peruse a wide variety of information sources.  They force themselves to understand points of view totally opposed to their own.  They are open to seeing things from a different perspective, no matter if that perspective goes against beliefs or positions they have long held.

•     They can manage  discomfort.   They know that difficult facts might give rise to unpleasant conclusions, and they have the skills to deal with that.

•     A solid, anchored core allows them the security to look at things differently.

In my efforts to connect the dots that were these ingredients,  I evolved as a cook.  I created a delicious parfait.  Could it have used less nutmeg?  Yep.  Would a fruit with a more definitive taste like mango or orange have sharpened the flavour?  Likely.  Still, my relative success  encourages me.  It gives me the confidence to try again.   It sharpens my awareness.  There’s a chance dots I have never noticed before will be obvious, as if illuminated from black light, and, I’ll be dumbfounded at the links that appear.  Like those between a Chopped-inspired parfait and connections.

Always Something

In Sarah, Plain and Tall,  Jacob, a widower with two young children, places an advertisement in the newspaper for a wife.  He receives a reply from a woman from Maine, who accepts to come to the American prairies for a month to see how things are before she makes a commitment.  Maggie, a neighbour originally from Tennessee who has married the man to whose advertisement she had herself responded, asks Sarah,  "'You are lonely, yes?'"  Maggie continues, "'I miss the hills of Tennessee sometimes.'"  When Sarah replies that she misses the sea, Maggie adds, "'There are always things to miss.'"

In that context, . . .

There’s always something to miss.

To treasure.

To reject.

To admire.

To envy.

To trust.

To question.

To risk.

To distrust.

To embrace.

To avoid.

To appreciate.

To resent.

To remember.

To forget.

To forgive.

To begrudge.

To cultivate.

To ignore.

To support.

To neglect.

To accomplish.

To regret.

To celebrate.

To mourn.

To love.

To grieve.

To cling to.

To let go of.

To acquire.

To discard.

To express.

To conceal.

To bless.

No matter where we are.

No matter what we might already have.

Dawn

The vision and its pathway, a fugue in two parts, come to me as I lead music ministry during Advent.   The vision?  Endlesss bliss and the triumph of truth.  The pathway?  Shine out and sing.  All right there, hidden in plain sight, in hymns I’ve sung dozens of times.

I begin the fourth verse of the hymn at the Preparation of the Gifts, "The King Shall Come When Morning Dawns" (Text John Brownlee).  

"And let the endless bliss begin,

By weary saints foretold,

When right shall triumph over wrong,

And truth shall be extolled. " 

I can’t identify with "saints," but "weary", I can relate to.    In what must resemble an out of body experience, my mind lasers in on "And truth shall be extolled."   In an era that’s cavalier about facts,  those words resonate.   The rest of me, meanwhile—fingers, mouth, vocal chords, mostly—finishes playing and singing the hymn.

While the presider continues with the order of the mass, I mull over the vision of the future the hymn describes.  "Truth extolled" would indeed build bliss. During the rest of the prayers and the Preface, and even as I play the Holy Holy,  a verse of the Gathering Song (Marty Haugen, 1987, GIA Publications) filters in, the second melody in what has become a fugue for the future.  This verse proclaims action: 

"Shine out with the splendor of love,

shine with justice and righteousness. 

Sing the music your spirit has heard,

the songs of glory and light."

 

This is the pathway to the vision.   Be a light for justice; voice the essential truth you know in your heart; key in on the positive, the songs of glory and light.   In that way, endless bliss has a chance.

So what does that mean for me, then, every single day?  What can I do to keep a few embers of the potential for endless bliss glowing?  After all, I’m only one person.  When I think about it, quite a bit, it turns out.

·  Aim to discuss rather than persuade.

Enlightenment needs facts, details, opinions, plusses, downsides, as many as can be garnered and sorted, about every aspect of a subject.  For that to happen, the aim has to be discussion, not persuasion.

·  Ask questions.

Instead of a focus on the expression of my own view, I can seek to understand where others are coming from, and why they hold the opinions they do.  This means reading outside my perspective, no matter how difficult it might be.  Rations will be in order.  It means listening intently to people whose views are diametrically opposed to mine, and keying in on the ideas.  

·  Be willing to evolve.

I might even have to ask myself hard questions.  I might even have to question my thinking.  I might even have to evolve!

·  Call out downright false or, at best, misleading,  statements.

In conversation, I will not initiate  I will, however, weigh in on a disparaging political comment that’s gratuitous, inserted into a conversation out of nowhere.     False or misleading statements that seldom reference a source or any evidence at all also fall below my line.  I will not vote for politicians whose platform is constant attack, blame, criticism and fear-mongering.  They have nothing else.

·  Support forward-thinking people and projects.

I will support projects and individuals who look forward, not back.  Politicians who can build on the innovation and hard work of our ancesors  and keep traditions alive by moving forward have my vote.   Stagnation is not an option.  Neither is hearkening back to some sort of supposed golden age that has never existed.

·  Act.

Speak out.  Work for justice.

·  Park my outrage.

Lies, crassness, insults, threats, attacks, tunnel vision, the rise of the imbecile—all contribute to my own outrage.   To work for solutions, though, I can’t seethe.  I must breathe, and remain rational.   Otherwise, I can’t listen or engage in constructive dialogue.

·  Hold on to my joy.

Here’s the toughest challenge.   I’ll need both hands.  Ration cable news and talking heads.  News in print is easier to manage with equanimity.   Alternate heavy non-fiction with easier reads.  Treasure my family time.  Focus on the positive.

I’ve always believed in agency, in the power of the individual to make change, one gesture at a time.   Never in my lifetime have I felt the vision, rooted in democracy, so threatened.  Never have I felt such urgency on the pathway.  Never have I felt the dire consequence of inaction.  How appropriate—the reminder of the vision and the pathway dawned on me during Advent, the season of flow from darkness into light.

Fiction Reads 2018

So, surprise, for real, I didn’t drown after all in the sea of non-fiction that described the decay of a civilization.  I came up for air, from time to time, for longer and longer periods.  How did I choose the books?  Favorite authors,  Canada Reads selections, incidental recommendations, language, and, of course, pure chance.

English Language, in order of enjoyment, not necessarily literary merit:

Dear Girl,  by Amy Krouse Rosenthal and Parish Rosenthal (2017)

Readers of this blog know my obsession with AKR’s books.  Her last book celebrates girls, and encourages them to be everything they can be, with practical suggestions for how to do that.  A must for every young girl.  "Dear girl, Keep that arm raised!  You have smart things to say!"

This Is How It Always Is by Laurie Frankel (2017)

Best fiction of the year in my set.  Frankel tackles the subject of transgender children, with empathy, relatable characters, and language at once fresh and delicate.  Masterfully written.

Origin, by Dan Brown (2017)

I loved the book, and was surprised that some people I talked to thought it formulaic in the Dan Brown style.  Somehow, although I’ve read all the books in the Da Vinci Code series, the historic, geographical, and architectural detail about Spain swept me up as much as the plot.  " 'There is only one way Christianity will survive the coming age of science.  We must stop rejecting the discoveries of science.  We must stop denouncing provable facts.  We must become a spiritual partner of science, using our vast experience—millennia of philosophy, personal inquiry, meditation, soul-searching—to help humanity build a moral Framework and ensure that the coming technologies will unify, illuminate, and raise us up . . . rather than destroy us.' "

American War by Omar El Akkad (2017)

Very powerful novel, dark, and intricately connected to the non-fiction I read on a similar topic.  In Canada Reads, it finished second to Forgiveness (comments below).

Turtles All the Way Down by John Green (2017)

John Green’s quirky characters and authentic voice will always bring me back.  I’ve read all his books (e.g. The Fault In Our Stars, Looking for Alaska) and never tire.  " 'We are about to live the American Dream which is, of course, to benefit from someone else’s misfortune. ' " (p. 23)

A Death in Vienna by Daniel Silva audio book

The English Assassin by Daniel Silva (2002)

The Confessor by Daniel Silva (2003)

The Kill Artist by Daniel Silva (2000)

The Daniel Silva run began quite by accident with an audio book from the library that I thought might keep me awake and, optimally, intrigued, during a nine-hour drive home solo from Calgary.  Worked in spades.  The world of spies and assassins, and the people mixed up in it, made the kilometres fly.  I hunted down three other books by Daniel Silva, whom I had never read before, and they bridged some serious non-fiction.  I will go back.

The Stars are Fire by Anita Shreve (2017)

Anita Shreve died of cancer at age 71 while I was reading this book.  Based on a historic fire in Maine in 1947, this is the fictional story of Grace Holland’s self-discovery as she struggle to survive in that crisis.

A Darkness of the Heart by Gail Bowen (2018)

On her book tour, Gail Bowen dropped in to our local library for a chat.  She delighted and inspired.  This read reminded me of how subtly she contextualizes each new Joanne Kilbourn novel and establishes the threads for the next one.

Drums in Autumn by Diana Gabaldon

The Fiery Cross by Diana Gabaldon

I love the Outlander series, especially the first three volumes.  Season four of the television series prompted me to refresh my memory of volumes four and five, that I had never reread.  Without six or seven years between tomes, I was able to make connections that had eluded me.

The Color of Rain by Micahel and Gina Spehn (2011)

Simply the book that inspired a TV movie that I enjoy overcoming tragedy and blending families.

Macbeth by Jo Nesbø (2018)

An author courageous enough to retell the Macbeth story in 1970’s America has my attention. Slow and dreary for the first forty pages or so, the novel did grapple with the essential questions Shakespeare asks in his play.  What catalysts  could trigger the "secret man of blood"  that lies dormant people?

The Marrow Thieves by Cherie Dimaline (2017)

Forgiveness:  A Gift From My Grandparents by Mark Sakamoto (2017)

Two Canada Reads choices that, in my mind, didn’t meet the expectations the reviews and comments had set. Worthwhile reads, both.  The first explores indigenous issues with which Canadians continue to grapple, and the second honours the character of Japanese Canadians imprisoned in Canada during World War II and stripped of their possessions, and still able to forgive.

The Winners’ Circle by Gail Bowen (2017)

Another Joanne Kibourne novel.  Unfortunately, Bowen gets caught in the recapitulation trap, and her trademark invisible weaving of past threads gives way instead to a whole chapter of catch-up that detracts from this book.

French Language

Chanson douce de Leïla Slimani (2016)

Disponible en anglais sous le titre The Nanny (2018).  Une femme se rend indispensable à une famille professionnelle après la naissance de leur deuxième enfant, avec des conséquences tragiques.  « Son cœur s’est endurci.  Les années l’ont recouvert d’une écorce épaisse et froide et elle l’entend à peine battre.  Plus rien ne parvient à l’émouvoir.  Elle doit admettre qu’elle ne sait plus aimer. » (p 230)

La meilleure façon de marcher c’est celle du flamant rose de Diane Ducret (2018)

Un roman déprimant, et difficile à lire pour cette raison, à mon avis.  Simplement un surcroit de peine et de défis.  « Mais celui qui a inventé le bateau a aussi inventé le naufrage, il ne faut donc pas s’enorgueillir de ses succès passagers; il est nécessaire d’œuvrer toujours avec vertu, courage et humilité, se vaincre soi-même pour triompher de tout. » (p 154)

Madame Tout-le-monde de Juliette Thibault (2011)

Premier roman d’une série; le deuxième tome m’attend toujours.  Ce livre est une recommandation d’une amie, et je comprends pourquoi.  La langue presque archaïque me distrait, cependant.  Je me rends compte de nouveau que je préfère les romans français que j’ai lu dernièrement, pour leur langue beaucoup plus naturelle.

Non-fiction Reads 2018

My goal for 2018  was to submerge myself in non-fiction, the better, I decided, to make a stab at understanding events in my  hemisphere and in the world.  True confession:  I almost drowned (life raft in the next post).  So, this column of my favorite non-fiction reads is not for the faint of heart.  It’s for the resilient, the agents.  It targets those who need perspectives and information to get truth and rationality out there in the trenches,  to « rouse a disaffected humanity and press the world’s physical truths into its palms » as Barbara Kingsolver says, in Unsheltered (p. 193).  I’ll begin with my daily news sources, and end with my book-of-the-year selection.

Journalism

Throughout the year, I continued to get my news from online newspapers:  The Globe and Mail, The New York Times, the Washington Post, and my two local papers.  I continue to follow the courageous  columnists I recommended in last year’s best-reads post.   This year, I stumbled on unconventional news sources, namely :

•     Chris Hedges in Truthdig; his most recent article The Election Circus Begins, exemplifies his lucid and frank prose.  

•     Jonathan Chait (cf Trump Literally Did NotUnderstand What a Shutdown Would Do)

•     Ryan Holiday, a personal strategist often published in Medium, (cf How toDevelop Better Habits in 2019) who led me to

•     Umair Haque, an uncompromising chronicler of American collapse  and the menace of authoritarianism.

Politics

•     No Is Not Enough: Resisting Trump’s Shock Politics and Winning the World We Need (2017) by Naomi Klein—the Canadian activist’s call to action

"To have a hope of changing the world, we’re going to have to be willing to change ourselves."   (p. 261)

•     Trumpocracy:  The Corruption of the American Republic (2017) by David Frum

•     The World As It Is: A Memoir of the Obama White House (2018) by Ben Rhodes.              Fascinating account of the critical events of the Obama presidency.  Here’s the difference between what really happens and what we know about what happens. 

•     America,  The Farewell Tour (2018) by Chris Hedges

More on the American collapse, with a stark message on the caveats of citizenship: "Resistance entails suffering.  It requires self-sacrifice.  It accepts that we may be destroyed.  It is not rational.  It is not about the pursuit of happiness.  It is about the pursuit of freedom."  (p. 305)

•     War on Peace: The End of Diplomacy and the Decline of American Influence (2018) Ronan Farrow 

Understand the cumulative effect of decades of budget cuts in diplomatic offices and preferences for military solutions.

Indigenous Issues and Truth and Reconciliation

Unsettling Canada:  A National Wake-Up Call (2017) by Arthur Manuel and Grand Chief Ron Derrickson

Manuel and Derrickson write a history of the Indigenous peoples of British Columbia.  The authors describe their experiences growing up, as well as their roles as activists in the events that shaped the directions of relations with First Nations on the federal and provincial levels.  They are frank in their assessments, and provide singular perspectives and insights.  

The Comeback (2014) by John Ralston Saul

Indigenous peoples are reclaiming their power and influence in Canada.  "The situation is simple [he says].  Aboriginals have made and will continue to make a remarkable comeback.  They cannot be stopped.  Non-aboriginals have a choice to make.  We can continue to stand in the way so that the comeback is slowed and surrounded by bitterness.  Or we can be supportive and part of a new narrative." (p. 6)

Being Human

Barking to the Choir: The Power of Radical Kinship by Gregory Boyle (2017)

“Seek first the kinship, and watch what happens,” Boyle says.  The path to reconciliation is relationship, and all of us have a responsibility to make it happen.  Why all of us?  We have a pulse, Boyle says.  “This larger sense of belonging to each other acknowledges that many are the things that connect us, and those things that divide us are few and no match for our kinship.”  This book is the cumulative wisdom of Boyle’s decades of developing relationships with former gang members to support them in building a solid life.

The Widower’s Notebook (2018) Jonathan Santlofer.  Memoir

Santlofer’s wife dies in his arms in their living room a few days after surgery.  The book describes his reaction and his efforts to rebuild his life. 

Hockey Matters

Game Change: The Life and Death of Steve Montador and the Future of Hockey (2017) by Ken Dryden

Breaking Away (2015) by Patrick O’Sullivan

Both accounts provide insights into the physical and emotional toll a hockey life can exact.

Yvette’s Book of the Year

Conspiracy:  Peter Thiel, Hulk Hogan, Gawker and the Anatomy of Intrigue (2018) by Ryan Holiday

Hands down, this was the best book I read in 2018.   Not only did this real-life drama read like a mystery novel, Holiday supplemented the account judiciously with lessons in strategy from his vast reading.  He explains a complex matter with unerring clarity, and provides frequent summaries of names and events without ever sounding condescending.  A masterful job on all levels—research, structure, storytelling, and language.  This was an unexpected page-turner.  In fact, after I read the library copy, I purchased a copy to keep.  It was that good.  My favorite aspect, however, is the emphasis on agency, on the power of the individual to make change:  "If you want to have a different world, it is on you to make it so.  It will not be easy to do it—it may even require things that you are reluctant to consider.  It always has.  Moreover, that is your obligation [author’s italics] if you are called to a higher task.  To do what it takes, to see it through." (p.  294)  Very timely message.