Author and poet Sharron Proulx-Turner talks to Open Book about her new book the trees are still bending south (Kegedonce Press), how her experiences have contributed to being a writer and if Aboriginal writers are adequately represented in Canadian literature and publishing.
Open Book:
Tell us about your new poetry collection, the trees are still bending south.
Sharron Proulx-Turner:
The trees are still bending south is a book I've been working on since 2006. Although this is my fifth book, I consider it my second book of poetry. Divided into four sections, the book begins with what is probably the most famous quote by Métis leader Louis Riel: "My people will sleep for one hundred years. When they awake, it will be the artists that give them back their spirit." On the back cover, Daniel David Moses states, "These poems are another sign of the cultural spring, the awakening of the sleeping spirits Riel predicted," and Duncan Mecredi echoes, "I met Louis for the first time in a woman's voice, a strong voice, a proud voice that had not sung for more than a hundred years." At the same time, it is impossible to separate myself from the First Peoples whose tender love and generosity, whose bloodlines make us Métis distinct peoples, diverse and amazing peoples. After almost five hundred years, we are just beginning to become aware of this ourselves. The poems in this book remind the reader of the significance of story to Indigenous peoples, the importance of story and resistance – in our personal lives, the lives of our children, our children's children, the lives of our ancestors.
OB:
How does the style and subject matter of this book compare to previous books, such as she walks for days/ inside a thousand eyes/ a two-spirit story and she is reading her blanket with her hands?
SPT:
My first book, Where the Rivers Join, is a memoir. What the auntys say, is a long story in the shape of the short line and is called poetry by the limits of mainstream genre-listing, which by extension limits audience. She walks for days/ inside a thousand eyes/ a two-spirit story, is historical fiction, but is also labelled poetry. She is reading her blanket with her hands: the dedication poems is predominantly poetry, for real, an autobiographical tribute to friends that also contains poetry that dates back to my early publishing days. What differentiates, the trees are bending south, is the agreement between myself and the publisher that this is, in fact, a book of poetry. This is my first book published by an all-Indigenous press, Kegedonce. Kateri Akiwenzie Damm's editing skills are exemplary.
OB:
Who are your first readers and how do they help you as a writer?
STP:
I have two first readers, my daughter, Barb Horsefall, and my good friend, Margie Faccini-Lee. Margie is an avid reader of Indigenous writers and Barb is – well, Barb has always been what she calls my best fan. I'd feel lost without them. Their contributions and close readings are invaluable and they are able to point out strengths and commonalities between my books that elude me.
OB:
Can you describe an experience that you feel contributed to you becoming a writer?
STP:
When I was four years old, my Métis grandmother gave me a giant dictionary for my birthday and when she visited, she'd open that book, point to a word and tell a story as long as your arm. She told me often that my great grandmother was a poet, that it was my duty to write, to share this gift from God. Though I didn't always have the confidence to call myself a writer, I've been one since I remember.
OB:
Do you believe that Aboriginal writers are adequately represented in Canadian literature and publishing?
STP:
Short and long answer? No. Non-Native, mainstream readers have learned to read a certain way, through a particular lens that's limited by a perceived, "correct," White, upper-to-middle class European, American, Canadian reality. Unlearning the myopic restrictions of the "canon" has taken long enough. There is a tremendous need for more Indigenous publishers in Canada, for long out-of-print texts to be republished, for the hiring of Indigenous editors, scholars, teachers, professors, writers, artists, graphic artists, film makers, performers, comedians. Need I go on?
OB:
Can you recommend a book of poetry you recently read that made a significant impression on you – that will stay with you for years?
STP:
Maliseet multi-media artist, writer, activist, Elder, Shirley Bear's virgin bones: Belayak Kcikug'nas'ikn'ug, published in 2006 by McGilligan Books in Toronto. On the back cover, the simple words "Virgin Bones is a wise and stunning collection of art, poetry and poetics," give a glimpse into the depth and scope of this incredible book I will return to time and again. There is a statement in particular in virgin bones that follows me everywhere I go as a writer, as an artist. The statement stands alone on the page: "Artists are the movers and changers of the world. They have always been revolutionaries, creating change in thought and style within their societies. We have no desire to produce work that either looks like or is connected to any European tradition or movement. It is not our way." Shirley Bear is one of the great thinkers of our time.
OB:
What are you working on now?
STP:
Right now I have two projects on the go. For the past two years I've been working with Lakota Elder, Beverly Little Thunder. I met with her at her home in the Green Mountains of Vermont, where I was her audience of one as she recorded parts of her lifestory. I then transcribed the tapes and we are now working together to form her story into a memoir. Beverly Little Thunder is a two-spirit woman who has lead the only all-women's Sundance on Turtle Island for almost thirty years.
I'm also working on my first book of short stories. I try to challenge myself with each book I write, to make something new out of the English language. Daniel David Moses describes my newest book as one where, "the words of the English language burgeon with a different life, one lived on Turtle Island." Like French, English is a borrowed language of our peoples, and our relationship with English is like trying to fit that round peg into a proverbial square hole. Indigenous languages are rich with movement, while English and French rely on nouns – things – to push themselves around. English is called the "mother tongue." In Indigenous languages, mother is the land. I don't speak the languages of my Indigenous grandparents. Instead, I speak the languages my ancestors were pushed into in order to survive. For me, English is the language of survival, the language my mother was forced to speak while growing up in the system. But English is also beautiful and liberating and darn, darn fine. A paradox. A trickster. And my first book of short stories will have no shortage of these.
Sharron Proulx-Turner is a member of the Métis Nation of Alberta. Originally from the Ottawa river valley, Sharron is from Algonquin, Ojibwe, Mohawk, Wyandat, Mi'kmaw, French and Irish ancestry. She’s a two-spirit nokomis, mom, writer and community worker. Sharron’s work appears in several anthologies, including Oxford Anthology of Canadian Native Literature in English, Crisp Blue Edges, Tales from Moccasin Avenue, Double Lives: Writing and Motherhood. Sharron has two more recent books, a mixed-genre-historical-fiction called, she walks for days/ inside a thousand eyes/ a two-spirit story (2008), and a book of dedication poems called, she is reading her blanket with her hands (2008). She is currently transcribing the recorded life story of Lakota Elder Beverly Little Thunder, who, together with her daughter Lushanya Echeverria, leads the only all-women's Sundance on Turtle Island. The trees are still bending south is Sharron's fifth book.
For more information about the trees are still being south please visit the Kegedonce Press website.
Buy this book at your local independent bookstore or online at Chapters/Indigo or Amazon.
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