Saturday, March 9, 2024

The Best Films of 2023: Barbie and Simple Comme Sylvain/The Nature of Love

It seems likely at this point that the 2023 Academy Awards will have a good deal in common with the 1939 Academy Awards and the 1959 Academy Awards; one of the funniest and most original comedies of all time will lose to a bloated historical drama with impressive special effects. In 1939 it was The Philadelphia Story losing out to Gone with the Wind. In 1959 it was Some Like It Hot (not even nominated) losing out to Ben Hur. And this year it will of course be Barbie losing out to Oppenheimer.

The case that Barbie (and Greta Gerwig) deserve to win the Best Picture Oscar has been very well made elsewhere (see, for example, Ann Lee’s “Why Barbie Should Win the Best Picture Oscar” in the March 5 issue of The Guardian); it doesn't need a boost from me. The great comedy by a woman director that does need more of a boost (in the English-speaking world, at least) is arguably Monia Chokri’s Simple Comme Sylvain (entitled The Nature of Love in its English-language subtitled release). It tells the story of how the happy-enough but largely sexless marriage of Sophia and Xavier is disrupted when Sophia and Sylvain (who has been hired to renovate Sophia and Xavier’s chalet) enter into a passionate affair. There are no villains and no heroes in the piece; we sympathize with all the characters. The dialogue is quite often excruciating at the same time as it is excruciatingly funny (“I think I might have met someone,” is how Sophia begins to break the news of the affair to her loving husband.) The difference in social class between the two lovers (and between their families) is the source of much of the film’s comedy—and also of considerable sadness. It’s a film that makes viewers think too—about love, about sexual attraction, and about social class. As Konrad Yakabuski reported in the March 2 Globe and Mail, Simple Comme Sylvain beat out Oppenheimer for the Best Foreign Film award at France’s César Awards. My partner Maureen and I watched the film after seeing Yakabuski’s column—and we both agreed that the French are right in thinking Simple Comme Sylvain a better film than the overly long, pretentious, and badly organized Oppenheimer. You can rent Simple Comme Sylvain/The Nature of Love online through several sites; it’s worth it!
(I also wrote about Oppenheimer in a Jan. 14 post, "Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer—and Heinar Kipphardt’s In the Matter of J. Robert Oppenheimer"--see below.)

Friday, January 26, 2024

Letter to the Globe - China's Economy (and Japan's, and Canada's)

The Globe published a version of this letter early this week, but they trimmed it significantly (leaving out Ibbitson, and leaving out Canada). Here is the full text:
Re “China’s looming decline could be a threat to the world” (Jan. 19): According to John Ibbitson, University of Wisconsin demographer Yi Fuxian may well be right in arguing that “China’s current economic downturn is not cyclical, but structural and irreversible.” But what is this supposed “current economic downturn”? On Jan. 16 the Globe reported that China’s economy grew by 5.2% in 2023, up from 3% in 2022. Admittedly, those are rates of growth much lower than China registered a few years ago—but they are still rates of growth well above those in Europe and North America.

In the late 1960s the Japanese economy boasted growth rates similar to those of China in the 1990s and early 2000s—sometimes reaching 10% or 12% annually. Then its population began to shrink; Japan has had a declining population for many years now. But its economy has still held up reasonably well; it typically now grows by about 1% annually—which, on a per capita basis, means growth of about 1.5% annually (considerably better than Canada’s current rate). There’s no reason why China can’t do the same.
I don't want to end a post on an anti-Ibbitson note. I'm currently reading (and very much enjoying) Ibbitson's The Duel: Diefenbaker, Pearson, and the Making of Modern Canada; it's wonderfully informative about all sorts of little things, and Ibbitson has a very interesting new perspective on the big things, arguing that in terms of policy, there is much more continuity between the Diefenbaker and Pearson governments than has generally been realized. (Ibbitson's book Empty Planet from a few years back is first-rate too.)

Sunday, January 14, 2024

Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer—and Heinar Kipphardt’s In the Matter of J. Robert Oppenheimer

My partner and I watched Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer this past week (we decided to take it in three one-hour segments—it is a very long movie!). Maureen and I both thought it a fairly good film, and an interesting one—but we find it hard to understand why it would be so enthusiastically touted as the best film of 2023.

Oppenheimer is not only too long (at least 30 minutes could easily be cut); it’s also much too loosely organized. The film is constantly jumping about between the wartime story of the atomic bomb being developed; the 1954 Atomic Energy Commission hearings as to whether or not Oppenheimer’s security clearance should be revoked (because of his leftist political sympathies and his lack of enthusiasm for developing the hydrogen bomb); and the 1959 hearings as to whether or not Lewis Strauss should be confirmed as Commerce Secretary. A good deal of it is not easy to follow, and in its final 45 minutes or so, as Nolan focuses more and more on the 1959 Lewis Strauss hearings, the film veers off oddly in a largely new direction. Strauss (who had persuaded Oppenheimer to become the director of Princeton’s Advanced Study Institute in 1947, but had subsequently turned against him over the H-bomb controversies) lost the 1959 cabinet confirmation vote in the US Senate, in part because various scientists testified that he had persecuted Oppenheimer through the 1954 hearings. All that is unquestionably interesting, but with the film’s focus towards the end more and more on Strauss’s personal viciousness and vindictiveness towards Oppenheimer, the larger issues start to fade into the background. Was it right to develop the atomic bomb? Was it right to develop the hydrogen bomb? How should society deal with the inevitable tension between the need for security and the democratic principles of openness and tolerance? The film has something to say about all of these, but the film’s structure dilutes what it has to say.

A much tighter—and, I would argue, a much better—work on the same topic is Heinar Kipphardt’s play from the 1960s, In the Matter of J. Robert Oppenheimer. Kipphardt was a practitioner of the Theater of Fact, a movement that incorporated material from real-life documents into drama. Much of his play is drawn directly from testimony given at the 1954 AEC hearings—and, unlike Nolan, he does a first-rate job of structuring that material into a tightly focused drama. Here the questions that tend too much in Nolan’s film to recede into the background are kept front and center—with one large question that Nolan pays scant attention to brought to the fore in Kipphardt’s drama: in what circumstances should scientists (should any of us, for that matter) place loyalty to our country and our government ahead of loyalty to humanity?

In the Matter of J. Robert Oppenheimer is a play of ideas—Oppenheimer’s wife is not brought into it, and nor is Lewis Strauss—but the main characters are nevertheless vividly drawn, and the conflict between Oppenheimer and Edward Teller over whether or not to develop the hydrogen bomb creates real dramatic tension. (The text of the play is not entirely cut-and-pasted from the 1954 hearings; Kipphardt added several monologues, and they are a real help in stitching the story together and bringing the characters to life.)

Kipphardt’s play (which I first read thirty or more years ago—I pulled the old British Methuen edition off the shelf recently to re-read it) seems to be largely forgotten nowadays in the English-speaking world. An off-Broadway production was mounted at New York’s Connelly Theater in 2006, but the play seems to have been very infrequently performed since then. The book remains in print, but has only 15 ratings and 3 reviews on Amazon.com. It deserves to be far better known!

Monday, January 1, 2024

An Update on The Grammar Wars

Anyone familiar with “A well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state,…” must be aware of how interesting—and how important—an awareness of the principles of grammar, usage and punctuation can be. And anyone who reflects for a moment or two on a phrase such as “large barge inspector” can surely sense that the study of grammar, usage, and punctuation can be fun as well as interesting.

For publishers with a strong line of course texts in this area, though, it has in recent years been a deflating experience to try to talk of grammar and of books about grammar with writing instructors in North American universities . Using course texts as part of the teaching experience in first-year writing courses has long been going out of favor, but until a decade or so ago, even those instructors who spent little time teaching from textbooks would typically assign a reference guide to grammar and usage for their students.

Not in recent years.

In some departments in the 2021-22 and 2022-23 academic years, there were more than 50 instructors teaching the department’s introductory writing class, with no more than one or two of them assigning any book on writing. If you asked them specifically about grammar and usage, and whether they might at least consider assigning a reference guide, you were likely to hear some variant of these four standard answers:
No, we don’t teach the minutiae in this department; what we focus on is the big picture—and the process of writing.

No, we don’t teach that type of thing; they should have learned all that in high school.

No, I wouldn’t assign a book like that. If students need a resource of that sort, I send them online to one of the free sites—Purdue Owl, usually.*

No, we don’t teach grammar here. Research has shown that trying to teach grammar to students is likely to actually harm their writing.
That is indeed what the research showed in the 1960s—or seemed to show. Teaching writing in the 1950s had been widely felt to involve far too many robotic grammar drills that were hated by students and that seemed to be doing little to improve their writing. When the National Council of Teachers of English appointed a committee to investigate the practice of teaching composition in the US, the committee (headed by Richard Braddock) reached a conclusion that it asserted could “be stated in strong and unqualified terms: the teaching of formal grammar has a negligible, or because it usually displaces some instruction and practice in actual composition, even a harmful effect on the improvement of writing.”

This conclusion of Braddock et al.’s 1963 Report into Research in Written Composition was based largely on a University of London doctoral dissertation from the previous year, in which R.J. Harris had studied the grammar performance of a selection of 12-14 year-old children in five London secondary schools. Though Braddock et al. did not think the Harris study was without its flaws, they nevertheless endorsed its conclusions. Indeed, as Martha Kolin notes (in a 1996 article, “Rhetorical Grammar: A Modification Lesson”), they went even further than had Harris. Where Harris had concluded that it seemed “safe to infer that the study of English grammatical terminology had a negligible or even a relatively harmful effect upon the correctness of children's writing in the early part of the five Secondary Schools,” the Braddock report broadened “upon the correctness of children’s writing” to “on the improvement of writing.”** (They also, it may be observed, broadened Harris’s “the study of English grammatical terminology” to “the teaching of formal grammar.”)

Influential though the Braddock Report was, it’s likely that only a minority of writing instructors today are familiar with it. Many more are likely familiar with Patrick Harwell’s oft-anthologized article arguing against traditional classroom grammar instruction, “Grammar, Grammars, and the Teaching of Grammar” (College English, 1985).*** And more still are likely aware of Peter Elbow’s Writing with Power (1981, 2/e 1998) which exerted an enormous influence on late twentieth and early twenty-first teachers of writing. Famously, Elbow had this to say about grammar:
Learning grammar is a formidable task that takes crucial energy away from working on your writing, and worse yet, the process of learning grammar interferes with writing; it heightens your preoccupation with mistakes as you write out each word and phrase, and makes it almost impossible to achieve that undistracted attention to your thoughts and experiences as you write that is crucial for strong writing (and sanity). For most people, nothing helps their writing so much as learning to ignore grammar as they write.
That passage is often quoted, both by supporters and opponents of downgrading or eliminating the teaching of grammar in writing classes. Interestingly, it’s sometimes quoted with the last three words omitted (see, for example, Edward C. Hanganu’s 2015 article, “Teaching Grammar in College”). But those last three words are of vital importance; Elbow never in fact suggested that writers should ignore grammar or that the details of grammar were mere “minutiae.”

Elbow, who focused on the writing process (recommending an initial freewriting stage, followed by several stages of revision), held the entirely reasonable view that one should not be concerned with issues such as how to make one’s writing grammatical when one is working on a first draft; that’s when freewriting is appropriate. In Elbow’s view, even the second and third drafts are not normally good times to focus on the mechanics of grammar, usage, and punctuation. Grammar, he felt, should be focused on only at the very final stage of revision. But that did not mean that he thought it unimportant. On the contrary, he wrote at some length on “the desirability of learning grammar if you don’t know it,” devoting a full chapter of Writing with Power to the topic, and recommending that individuals do their best to acquire a good knowledge of grammar:
Happily, it’s not hard to find good instruction in grammar. There are lots of courses for people of all ages and lots of … textbooks from which you can learn it yourself in six months of diligent slogging. … But a class is probably the best method for ensuring you keep going. If you take a class, try to shop around to see if you can find a teacher who suits you. …
For some unknown reason, Elbow seems to seem to assume that whatever grammar classes one might seek out will be outside the academy. He seems to assume too that, since learning grammar may involve “diligent slogging,” in the short term one is likely to have to fall back on other methods of revising so as to make one what writes grammatical:
[In the short term] I know of no other way than to get the help of a proofreader or two for any piece of writing that you want taken seriously. It is best, of course, if you can find someone who is good at finding mistakes. But if none of your close friends has that skill, you can use acquaintances or even find a competent person you don’t know.
There are all sorts of practical problems with applying Elbow’s approach universally—not the least of which is the matter of how undergraduate students might go about finding “someone who is good at finding mistakes” in grammar, when all their friends and classmates are likely to be equally in the dark. (Issues of class and of inequlaity are of course also relevant here; if it might not always be easy even for students from privileged backgrounds at Ivy League institutions to get reliable grammar advice from their friends, it is sure to be far more difficult for students from impovershed backgrounds at inner-city community colleges to do so.) It seems to me to be problematic too that Elbow appears to regard grammar as something entirely unconnected from the structure of ideas in a piece of writing, rather than something that can often be integral to the structuring of ideas into sentences. But the key point here is that even the writing expert who is often thought to be the most influential opponent of teaching grammar was very much of the view that anyone who wants their writing to be taken seriously should learn the conventions of grammar, usage, and punctuation.

For some time in the 1960s, 70s, and 80s, the majority of studies seemed to support Harris’s findings. But eventually more and more scholars began to draw attention to the flaws in these studies (see, for example, D. Tomlinson’s 1994 article, “Errors in the research into the effectiveness of grammar teaching,” English in Education, 28). And more and more research began to appear concluding that various forms of grammar instruction could in fact have many benefits: that sentence combining could improve students’ writing (see, for example, S. Graham and D. Perin, “A meta-analysis of writing instruction for adolescent students,” Journal of Educational Psychology, 99 [2007]); that students could benefit from direct and explicit instruction in grammar (as versus the “deductive” or “implicit” approach, according to which students are introduced to grammar without any explicit instruction in its terms or its principles) (see, for example, Leslie Ann Rogers and Steve Graham, “A Meta-Analysis of Single Subject Design Writing Intervention Research,” Journal of Educational Psychology [2008], C. Benitez-Correa et al., “A Comparison between Deductive and Inductive Approaches for Teaching EFL Grammar to High School Students,” International Journal of Instruction, 12 [1], [2019], and Pouya Vakili, “Give Me the Rules, I’ll Understand Grammar Better”: Exploring the Effectiveness of Usage-Based Grammar Approach through Explicit Instruction of Adverbials [doctoral thesis] [2022]); that there are many ways to teach grammar effectively without returning to a 1950s-style classroom of repetitive drilling;**** and that, overall, teaching grammar has a positive effect on students’ writing (see, for example, Susan Jones et al., “Grammar for Writing? An Investigation of the Effects of Contextualised Grammar Teaching on Students’ Writing,” Reading and Writing, 26 [2013])***** As Jimmy H.M. van Rijt and his colleagues conclude regarding the overall trend,
Since the beginning of the twenty-first century there has been a renewed interest in grammar teaching in L1 classrooms, both in research and in policy making (Hudson and Walmsley, 2005, Locke, 2010). This interest has become even more apparent in recent years, since the well-rehearsed argument emerging in the 1970s that grammar education has no impact on literacy development is starting to crumble (e.g., Andrews, 2005, Elley et al., 1975, Graham and Perin, 2007). While traditional parsing exercises generally fail to improve students’ writing, there is a growing body of empirical evidence indicating positive effects of contextualized grammar teaching on writing development (e.g., Fearn and Farnan, 2007, Fontich, 2016, Jones et al., 2013, Myhill et al., 2018, Myhill et al., 2012, Watson and Newman, 2017). (“When students tackle grammatical problems: Exploring linguistic reasoning with linguistic metaconcepts in L1 grammar education,” Linguistics and Education 52 [2019])
To be sure, the ground is still contested; not all studies agree, and in every large Rhetoric and Writing Studies Department you can find plenty of instructors who still maintain that “the research” shows that grammar instruction actually harms students’ writing. On one point at least, though, there seems to be no disagreement; no one seems to take issue with the suggestion that learning about the ways in which English is structured improves students’ analytic abilities. As Pouya Vakili and Reda Mohammed write in the conclusion of their paper on the topic,
Students can learn and benefit generally from grammar instruction, even if, for no other reason, it helps to build their scientific knowledge of the world and analytic skills…. In general, explicit grammar instruction helps students have a better understanding of syntax and grammar, … have a better perception of the descriptive quality of language …, develop critical thinking about grammar, become able to analyze sentences at the morphosyntactic level, and improve their linguistic performance. (“‘Grammar Scares Me’: An Exploration of American Students’ Perceptions of Grammar Learning,” International Journal of Linguistics, Literature and Translation, 124 [2020])
In a world in which English instructors at colleges and universities of all sorts are increasingly asked to teach critical thinking skills as well as writing skills, surely it is no bad thing to provide at least modest amounts of explicit grammar instruction.

As we approach the mid-point of the twenty-first century’s third decade, there are more and more signs that the tide has begun ever so slowly to turn. Thankfully, there is no sign of a return to 1950s-style mindless drilling. But there does seem to be some level of increased interest in how teaching grammar can be helpful. Earlier this year, we at Broadview Press conducted extensive research into the viability of three possible “spin-off” books that might be put together from material included in The Broadview Guide to Writing (a large handbook covering topics such as writing process, writing style, and academic citation as well as grammar and usage). We were surprised to find that, of the three possible spin-offs that had been suggested, the one that by some distance generated the most interest was the idea of publishing as a stand-alone volume the sections of the book that deal with grammar, usage, and punctuation. A couple of months from now we will publish The Broadview Guide to Grammar, Usage, and Punctuation (a concise text that will also offer access to a wide range of online exercises, many using real-world examples, and many with interactive “explain each answer” features). I’m going to be very interested to see how it’s received.

The larger Broadview Guide has been described by They Say / I Say authors Gerald Graff and Cathy Birkenstein as “smart, helpful, and even fun to read,” and certainly our goal (in this “spin-off” grammar and usage book as much as in the larger Guide) is to demonstrate that matters of grammar and usage can be highly interesting and highly entertaining as well as extremely useful. By way of illustration, let me return in closing to the large barge inspector; here’s the book’s entry on “ambiguity”:
ambiguity: Two broad categories of English language ambiguity are semantic ambiguity and syntactic ambiguity (also known as structural ambiguity). Semantic ambiguity occurs as a result of a word or words having two or more possible meanings. Since the word light has two unrelated meanings, a light box can refer either to a box that is not heavy or to a box with a sheet of glass on one side through which light shines. In the newspaper headline “Red tape holds up new bridge,” there are two sources of semantic ambiguity; To hold up something can mean either to keep it off the ground or to delay it, and the expression red tape has both a literal and an idiomatic meaning.

Syntactic ambiguity is a matter of grammar—of the way in which words are arranged in a sentence, and of how they are interpreted grammatically. One circumstance in which syntactical ambiguity can arise is when there is uncertainty as to whether or not a compound noun is being used. Someone who is employed to perform safety inspections of large barges might be described as a “large barge inspector”—but if his job title is barge inspector (a compound noun), then the word large in “large barge inspector” could reasonably be taken to refer to the size of the inspector rather than of the barges. Is a plastic fruit bowl necessarily made of plastic? Or can it be a bowl of any sort that happens to hold pieces of plastic fruit?

Within the broad categories there may be ambiguities of several types. For further discussions of ambiguity in these pages—sorry, that should be “for further discussions in these pages of ambiguity”—see the entries on dangling constructions, on pronouns, and on word order problems, as well as the entries below for words such as flammable.



*As I’ve written elsewhere (“The Cost of Free,” http://donlepan.blogspot.com/2023/02/the-cost-of-free.html), most of these free sites lend support to the adage “you get what you pay for.” Even Purdue Owl—which does seem to be the best of them—includes few complex or real-world examples, is cluttered with advertisements, and in some sections is riddled with inaccuracies and outright errors. It’s hard to blame instructors for taking this route; for many years there was at many universities tremendous pressure on instructors to choose low-cost or no-cost learning materials, regardless of quality. The past two or three years, though, have seen great growth in “inclusive access” systems, whereby students pay a modest surcharge per course to cover the cost of learning materials; where “inclusive access” has been adopted, there’s no longer pressure on instructors to rely on learning materials that are available at no cost, whatever their quality.

** It’s perhaps worth noting here that the Braddock Report’s language here leaves something to be desired where grammar and usage are concerned. The report draws its conclusion as to the effect that “the teaching of formal grammar” has on “the improvement of writing,” when what the authors surely mean to refer to is the effect that it has on students’ writing itself—or, if one feels that the concept of improvement must in some way be introduced explicitly, on the degree to which writing does or does not improve.

*** For a discussion of the influence of Hartwell’s article, see Becky Caouette, “On the College Front: Patrick Hartwell's ‘Grammar, Grammars, and the Teaching of Grammar’ and the Composition of Anthology,” Language Arts Journal of Michigan 27 [2012]. Caouette suggests that Hartwell’s may be “a dated argument that we nevertheless continue to promulgate.”

**** Much of the focus here has been on so-called “contextual teaching” of grammar, according to the principles of which grammar is taught “in context,” through discussion of grammatical points in students’ reading, and in students’ own writing, rather than as “a formal system” or “in isolation,” through exercises that too often do not replicate the structures of real-world writing. Constance Weaver, who argued persuasively in the late twentieth and early twenty-first century for the contextualized teaching of grammar (see Teaching Grammar in Context (1996), and “The Great Debate (Again): Teaching Grammar and Usage,” The English Journal, 85 [1996]), suggested that not all grammatical concepts should be given equal weight, and that it is far more important for students to grasp concepts such as subject-verb agreement and comma splices than it is for them to grasp some other concepts. She pointed to ways in which looking at real-world examples of such matters can be of great benefit to the student. But it remains not entirely clear lear how, without at least some instruction in grammar as a formal system, students will be able to “learn to punctuate sentences correctly and effectively (according to accepted conventions), judiciously violating the rules on occasion, for rhetorical effect,” as Weaver recommends.

Nor is it clear why instructors can't sensibly aim to combine a certain amount of teaching the formal systems of grammar with contextual teaching of points of grammar as they discuss various readings (or the students's own writing). ***** Though a very great many articles have been written on “the grammar wars,” there are surprisingly few rigorous studies involving first-language (“L1” in the literature) learners or involving learners at the post-secondary level, and very few indeed that try to measure the effect of teaching grammar on students’ writing performance. The 2013 study by Jones et al. is a welcome exception. Here is their summing up: “The role of grammar instruction in the teaching of writing is contested in most Anglophone countries, with several robust meta-analyses finding no evidence of any beneficial effect. However, existing research is limited in that it only considers isolated grammar instruction and offers no theorization of an instructional relationship between grammar and writing. This study, drawing on a theorized understanding of grammar as a meaning-making resource for writing development, set out to investigate the impact of contextualized grammar instruction on students’ writing performance. The study adopted a mixed-methods approach, with a randomized controlled trial and a complementary qualitative study. The statistical analyses indicate a positive effect on writing performance for the intervention group (e = 0.21; p < 0.001); but the study also indicates that the intervention impact differentially on different sub-groups, benefiting able writers more than weaker writers. The study is significant in being the first to supply rigorous, theorized evidence for the potential benefits of teaching grammar to support development in writing.”

Saturday, December 16, 2023

Letter to the Globe - Time to Stop Privileging the Interests of Oldsters Such as Me Over Those of Young Parents with Children

Here's another letter to the Globe; I sent it in a week ago, and an edited version was published in today's paper. I'll publish the unedited version here; I thought it was a shame that they cut the credit to Paul Kershaw in the published version. Also, I found it interesting that, in the final sentence, the Globe changed "There's no good reason" to "I see no good reason."
Re Attention older homeowners (December 9): Thanks to Paul Kershaw for drawing attention to the degree to which our tax system privileges older people over those raising children. Old Age Security payments to oldsters such as me (who no longer have rent or mortgage payments to make) should start to be clawed back when our incomes reach $40,000—half the current level of $80,000. And Canada Child Benefits payments to those raising children (most of whom have heavy rent or mortgage payments to make, as well as child-related expenses) should not start to be clawed back until household income exceeds $70,000—double the current level of $35,000. There’s no good reason to put the financial interests of older Canadians over those of young parents—and young children.

Saturday, November 25, 2023

Letter to the Globe - The Historical Roots of Prejudice

This is the third of three. It was sent November 16, so at this point I have to assume they decided not to run it.
Re “Who we are and must be, as Canadians” (Editorial, Nov. 14): It’s not enough that provinces work to combat antisemitism by expanding “education about the Holocaust.” We should also all be educated about the whole history of antisemitism, from the medieval period onwards: Christians blaming Jews collectively for the death of Jesus (a Jew); Christians closing off almost all professions except moneylending to Jews, and then condemning Jews for being nothing but moneylenders; England (like Spain, Portugal, and other European countries) expelling all Jews—the list goes on and on. We should look too at the roots of anti-Muslim feeling, going back to the Crusades. The more we understand the deep historical roots of prejudice, the better equipped we are to combat it.

Letter to the Globe - Immigration

This is the second of three. This one was published, albeit in slightly edited form; here's the full version.
Re “Ottawa caps immigration target” (Nov. 2): Your article opens with a reference to “shrinking public support for immigration”—phrasing that suggests Canadians are turning against immigration per se. But that’s simply not the case; the Nanos poll referenced in the article reported that, as of this September, 53% of surveyed Canadians want Canada to accept fewer immigrants annually than the permanent resident target for 2023, which is 465,000. Our current levels of immigration—both permanent and temporary—are, as a percentage of population, the highest in the developed world. I’m not aware of any Canadians who are “turning against immigration” per se; what Canadians are turning against is a policy of continuous increase in immigration levels in a country experiencing dire housing shortages and tremendous strains on its health care system.

Letter to the Globe - Supply Management

Today I'll post three letters that I've sent in the past while to the Globe and Mail. This one was sent October 21.
Re “A bill that will curdle future trade talks” (Oct. 20): Your editorial fairly criticizes proposed legislation that would take supply management off the table in future trade negotiations. But both the Globe and those advancing the legislation ignore the situation of those at the heart of the matter—the cows and chickens who currently endure terrible suffering (under supply management, as under the American system). Canadian animal-cruelty laws either exempt farm animals entirely or prohibit only cruelty that exceeds “generally accepted practice,” when the reality is that very considerable cruelty has long been considered acceptable. If Canada replaced supply management with a set of much higher standards for the treatment of farm animals, the prices of eggs, milk, and chicken would remain high, but at least consumers would know that cruelty had been reduced. And perhaps new export markets would open up for the higher-standard Canadian animal products.

Saturday, October 21, 2023

Excerpts from an Animals Interview

Snigdha Sunith, a doctoral student at India’s Bharathiar University, was recently in touch to ask me a number of questions about Animals, which will apparently be the focus of a good part of Sunith’s dissertation on “Vegetarianism in the Anthropocene.” I’ll share some of what I wrote in my written response.

On the background to my writing the novel:
Around 1991 a friend lent me her copy of Animal Liberation. To that point I had never given much thought to what I ate, or, indeed, to eating generally—to farm animals, to factory farming, to fertilizers and herbicides and pesticides, any of it. I was rivetted and appalled by Singer’s descriptions of the horrific realities of factory farming. I write in the “Afterword” to Animals that I was “persuaded … largely through reading Singer’s book” to start to change my eating habits. What I don’t say is that there was a long lag between the reading and the start of the change. For several years after reading Animal Liberation, I don’t think I made any change whatsoever in my diet. I guess I found ways of pushing to the back of my consciousness what I had read about (and seen—the photos in Singer’s book were very powerful too). Eventually I did start to allow my new knowledge of “farming” to start to shape my eating habits, and then incremental change just kept coming (as I touch on the “Afterword”).

But I did not think of trying to do anything to try to influence others to change their dietary habits until one Sunday morning in 2004 or 2005. As I was doing my exercises that morning, I listened to a CBC radio feature on how horrific things had become in Zimbabwe under Robert Mugabe. I had spent three years in the early 1980s doing volunteer work as a teacher in a rural school in Zimbabwe, and at that time the country’s future had seemed bright. I guess I thought of those volunteer years as a time in my life when (much more than at other points in my life) I really had done something, however modest, to try to help make the world a better place. And now all the work that all of us—dedicated Zimbabweans far more so than we expatriates—had done to try to build something good and lasting in that country was being destroyed by the Mugabe regime, a group of once-proud freedom fighters who had become oppressors and plunderers.

“What might I do today that might do some good?” was the question I found myself asking. Spending another few years volunteering at that point in my life was out of the question—I had started a book publishing company that I couldn’t abandon, and I had two young children. “But I could write,” was my next thought. The only novel I had at that point written was an embarrassingly bad political adventure tale that had never been published (and that I hope never will be—it really was terrible!). But I had done a good deal of other writing, and I had learned a good deal about people—as most of us do by the time we’re fifty. It stuck me that there are many ways of influencing people through the written word; a powerful recitation of facts and marshalling of arguments in a work of non-fiction such as Singer’s Animal Liberation is one, but perhaps some sort of imaginative presentation might be another effective way. And then, in something like 30 seconds, the basic story of Animals came to me—none of the details in that length of time, of course, but the outline of all three parts of the story.

On Naomi’s questioning her parents about the ethics of eating meat:

I don’t know what to say about Naomi. I gave her the name of my daughter, although at the time I wrote the book I didn’t think my daughter was very similar to the character of Naomi in the book. Quite a few people who know both, though, have told me I’m wrong about that, and that real-life Naomi is in fact quite a lot like the character.

I do think many children are wiser than their parents on these issues; parents tend much too easily to laugh off as childish naivete children’s frequently expressed reservations about (or outright opposition to) the killing and eating of other creatures.

Adults tend to dismiss the arguments of children on the grounds that children have a less developed capacity for reasoning than do adults. And too many humans, of course, feel that we're justified in killing and eating other creatures who have a less developed capacity for reasoning than we do. But there isn't any good reason to treat other creatures cruelly on the grounds that they have less reasoning capacity than we do. Humans would see this point more clearly if a civilization of alien invaders a lot brighter than we are decided to treat us cruelly on the grounds that they were justified in doing so because our reasoning capacities were less developed than theirs.

On the impact I hoped at the time Animals would have on readers, and the impact it has had on readers:
As I say in the “Afterword,” I was at the time conscious mainly of aiming to help to shift attitudes regarding factory farming in particular. But as a number of readers pointed out to me soon after publication, the novel can easily be read as an argument against eating animal food of any sort (meat, but also eggs, cow’s or goat’s milk, cheese, and so on*)—an argument for adopting an entirely plant-based diet. Looking back on it, I think the experience of writing the novel did a lot to lead me in that direction (my partner and I have been vegan since 2011). The moral here is perhaps that I should have left it up to readers to decide for themselves how the novel should be read!

There have been many people over the years who have said or written that the experience of reading Animals had a real effect on them—and, in particular, had a real effect on their eating habits. No one has said that they suddenly went vegan after reading the book—nothing so dramatic. But lots by way of small changes. I gave a presentation last week in San Diego to a large group of first-year students, and spoke afterwards with the professor who teaches the course; he has been assigning Animals now for many years, and he told me that roughly 20% of his students have reported to him that reading (and discussing) the novel has led to at least some change in their attitudes and behavior. In 2016 my partner (Maureen Okun) and I did a small study of the effect of the novel; the results can be found here: https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3758567


On my other works of fiction:

My third novel, Lucy and Bonbon, which was published last year, deals with some of the same themes as Animals. My next book of fiction (tentatively titled Leaving Pittsburgh), will be a collection of linked short stories about various sorts of human interaction, with nothing in it about human and non-human animals.

I seem to be alternating between works of fiction focused on human/non-human animal themes, and works of fiction in which those themes are entirely absent. My second novel, Rising Stories, was a book about childhood and the imagination and Chicago, and was in no way concerned with human and non-human animal themes. My fifth work of fiction will I think turn largely on an investigation of a factory farm near Columbus, Ohio.

*In terms of cruelty, the dairy industry may well be the worst of all. One has to start with the fundamental fact at the heart of it—we take the babies from their mothers so that we can steal the milk meant for the babies. And then we kill the babies (or at least the male ones) while they are still very young, and call it veal. Nowadays, the cruelty goes far beyond that, of course; whereas dairy cows once really did graze in fields and eat grass, now they almost always live their lives on concrete floors, chained in place.

Three Recent Books with Something to Say about What We Eat

[I submitted this book review article to the Globe and Mail a while back; they decided not to run it, so I'll post it here.]
Should humans eat other animals? The argument continues unabated, and continues to find rich expression in the world of books. Every season brings something new, from philosophical and political treatises, to cookbooks, to personal accounts of culinary experience, to cultural and anthropological studies. Together, these three recently-published books offer something of all those.

Animal Liberation Now

BY PETER SINGER, WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY YUVAL HARARI (HARPER COLLINS, 348 PAGES)

No one has done more than Peter Singer to persuade human animals to shift from eating other sentient animals to eating plants. The arguments for consuming less meat and dairy—or none at all—have only gotten stronger since the landmark first edition of Singer’s Animal Liberation appeared in 1975. Each year brings new studies showing that a plant-based diet can offer extraordinary health benefits, and is in myriad ways better for the environment. Singer’s substantially revised and updated new edition, Animal Liberation Now, may well be the twenty-first-century’s most important book on the relationship between humans and other species—just as the original was the most important late twentieth-century book on the topic. In the new edition Singer reviews recent developments in philosophy and within various institutions (notably, the Catholic Church), and he details the ways in which animal agriculture contributes hugely to climate change. He debunks many misconceptions-not least of all the notion that the Amazon is being deforested in order to grow soybeans that will be consumed as tofu, and the suggestion that switching to a plant-based diet might cause more rather than less suffering (on the grounds that plants as well as animals may be capable of feeling). As Singer points out, “77% of global soy production is fed to animals and thus converted to meat and dairy products…. It’s not tofu that is driving deforestation but the meat and dairy industries.” It follows that, if it is the case that plants can feel pain, “those who eat meat are responsible for the destruction of vastly more plants than vegans are.”

Much of Singer’s classic work remains unchanged in the new edition. His extraordinarily insightful historical overview of the ways in which we humans have rationalized our mistreatment of other species remains substantively the same, as does his overview of the horrific realities of today’s factory farming. Gone, though, are the photographs documenting those realities that were a feature of previous editions. No doubt it is deemed more important these days to shield the sensibilities of the reader from horrific photographic evidence than it is to use images (as well as words) to draw attention to the animals’ suffering. I suspect, though, that the photographs included in previous editions played a real part in shocking readers out of their complacency; certainly they did for me when I first read Animal Liberation in the early 1990s.

Singer is often imagined by non-philosophers to be an animal rights activist. What he in fact argues is that we must recognize other sentient creatures’ capacity to feel (and to suffer), and that we are thus obligated to take their interests into account, and treat them well. “The language of rights is a convenient political shorthand that [becomes] even more valuable in the era of the eight-second soundbite,” he writes, “but it is not essential to the argument for a radical change in our attitude toward animals.” That “eight-second soundbite” phrase, incidentally, is one of Singer’s many small updates; in the previous two editions of the book, he wrote instead of “the era of thirty-second TV newsclips.”

Vegan Africa: Plant-Based Recipes from Ethiopia to Senegal

BY MARIE KACOUCHIA (THE EXPERIMENT PUBLISHING, 192 PAGES)

People often imagine that it’s mainly university-educated white people who adopt a plant-based diet; nothing could be further from the truth. In the US, for example, about 8% of African Americans are now vegan—more than double the percentage of whites. And interest in plant-based diets has been growing worldwide—as is reflected in the tremendous outpouring of cookbooks focused on vegan soul food, vegan Korean food, vegan Mexican dishes, and so on. One of the most successful recent offerings is Marie Kacouchia’s Vegan Africa: Plant-Based Recipes from Ethiopia to Senegal, which appeared late last year; it’s made it onto many “Best of” lists. Kacouchia explains in her introduction that one of her aims is “to show that moving toward a plant-based diet doesn’t have to be boring or restrictive”—and in that she surely succeeds; the dishes are wonderfully varied, even though most are easy to make with readily available ingredients.

The title is slightly misleading—it might be taken to suggest that the recipes represent only an east-west spectrum, whereas southern Africa is also well represented here. For Kacouchia (who claims two homelands herself, France and the Ivory Coast), researching and writing the book was in part a way of reconnecting with the Ivory Coast culture she had left as an eight-year-old child. In all, she draws on the culinary traditions of over a dozen nations. In some cases, the dishes are entirely traditional; in others she has adapted and combined to create original recipes. Two that my partner and I have tried and particularly recommend: creamy carrot-ginger soup and "Red Red"--Ghanian Red Stew.

Raw Dog: The Naked Truth About Hot Dogs

BY JAMIE LOFTUS (A FORGE BOOK / TOR PUBLISHING, 302 PAGES)

Like Peter Singer's recent book, Jamie Loftus's recent book has been the subject of a feature interview on CBC Radio’s Sunday Magazine. There, though, the similarities end. Unlike Animal Liberation, Loftus’s Raw Dog is something of a muddle—interesting and entertaining at times, but disorganized and poorly argued. “Hot dogs,” Loftus writes, “are the kind of American that you know there is something deeply wrong with but still find endearing.” Readers may find the hot dog less endearing after reading Loftus’s descriptions of how hot dogs are made, how workers in the sausage factories suffer, and how the animals whose less desirable parts go into hot dogs are treated. “The choice not to eat meat is the correct one,” she concedes, but she gives little space to any reflection on that conclusion, which she does not allow to interfere with her project of sampling varieties of hot dog across America. “If you’ve got the stomach to eat it,” she writes, “then you should know who suffers for you to do so”—as if knowing the truth were somehow enough, and humans have no obligation to consider changing what they do on the basis of what they know. Strangely, Loftus seems entirely uninterested in vegetarian or vegan variants of the hot dog.

When the underpinnings of an ideological position have been knocked away, as Peter Singer writes of the rationalizations humans have traditionally advanced for using and abusing other species, sometimes “the ideological position will just hang there, defying the logical equivalent of the laws of gravity.” In the case of our “attitudes towards animals,” he suggests, that is exactly what “seems to have happened.” It would be hard to find a book that illustrates this point any better than does Loftus’s Raw Dog.

Sunday, July 9, 2023

Names, and the Pittsburgh Synagogue Shooting

For the past couple of years I’ve been working on a book of linked short stories, most of which feature one or members of a Pittsburgh family that becomes dispersed, Vince and Vera moving to Phoenix and their children, Andy and Ellie, moving respectively to Butler, Pennsylvania, and to New York. Leaving Pittsburgh will include one story focused on the 2022 collapse of the Forbes Avenue bridge in Frick Park, and also one story loosely based on the 2018 killing of eleven worshippers at a Pittsburgh synagogue. I was in considerable doubt as to whether or not I should take on what may well be the worst instance of antisemitic violence in North American history as a subject; the whole series of events is so troubling and so tragic, and I wasn’t sure if it would be possible to write about it in any sort of way that might be helpful. In the end I felt that the greater danger in a book about Pittsburgh in recent decades would be to leave out an episode of such central importance, but it has been one of the most difficult pieces of fiction I’ve ever attempted.

As you might expect, then, I have paid some attention to the recent sentencing trial of the defendant in the Pittsburgh trial (who was convicted in June of the killings—the matter now being considered is whether the sentence will be capital punishment or imprisonment for life without parole).

One interesting aspect of the coverage has been that some of the reporters writing on the case have chosen not to name the defendant in their articles. I am among the many people who have called for an end to the practice of naming mass murderers in the mass media (see https://donlepan.blogspot.com/2015/10/lets-refuse-to-give-mass-murderers.html). The reason is simple; it has long been clear that many mass killers are motivated, at least in part, by a desire for fame. To the extent that the media keep publishing the killers’ names, then, they are playing along with the killers’ desires—and to the extent that the media refrain from publishing the names, they are thwarting those desires. Mass killings by individuals are generally referred to by referencing the location at which they occurred rather than the names of the perpetrators; hate-motivated examples include the Montreal massacre (anti-women violence), the Pulse Orlando killings (anti-gay violence), the Charleston church killings (anti-black violence), the Quebec City mosque killings (anti-Muslim violence), and now the Pittsburgh Tree of Life killings (antisemitic violence). Yet in too many cases the perpetrators do become famous; the names of the Montreal and Charleston murderers are, sadly, all too well known—and in some cases have inspired others to attempt similar crimes.

Can we be sure that these names would not become well known if the media did not publish them? Of course not; there will inevitably be some who are determined to find out the names of mass murderers, and will succeed in doing so. But if we do not publish the names, it is surely likely that those names will at the very least become much less well known than if we do publish them. One point of comparison is the current treatment of young offenders. It is the law in many jurisdictions that the names of juvenile offenders not be made public; no doubt in some cases individuals who are determined to do so manage to find out those names, but the vast majority of us do no such thing, and the names remain unknown to us.

American journalist Garrett Haake is among those who have suggested that journalists who do not name mass killers “abdicate responsibility for asking and answering deeper questions about why an event took place, and what could have been done to stop it.” But surely media reports on crimes committed by juveniles have often inquired into deeper questions regarding why the crimes took place and what could be done to prevent their re-occurrence. Until recently there were few examples of reporters dealing with mass killings who chose not to name the killer when then was no law requiring them to refrain from doing so. One feature of the coverage of the Pittsburgh trial is that some reporters are making that choice. Notable among them is Delaney Parks, who has written numerous articles on the case for the Pittsburgh Union Progress* and the Pittsburgh Jewish Chronicle; Parks typically uses the noun “defendant” to refer to the killer; she does not name him. And her coverage is just as thorough and just as wide-ranging as that of other journalists who do mention the killer’s name.

Even those journalists and media outlets who do sometimes mention the Pittsburgh attacker's name are in many cases making an effort to do so only infrequently. (For a discussion, see “In an unusual alliance, Jewish media and striking journalists are uniting to cover the Pittsburgh synagogue shooting trial,” 1 May 2023).

Of relevance: As Mark Oppenheimer reports in his excellent book, Squirrel Hill: The Tree of Life Synagogue Shooting and the Soul of a Neighborhood, the families of the eleven people who were killed have been unanimous in their desire that the killer not be named in media coverage. (The degree to which any journalist can express the multifaceted truth about every individual involved in this sort of tragedy is necessarily limited--by the importance of respecting privacy as well as by other considerations--but Oppenheimer does an extraordinarily good job of giving the reader as full as possible an understanding of what went on—and of how the families and the neighborhood have coped in the years since.)

*The Union Progress was started by journalists from the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, who went on strike in October 2022; Post-Gazette workers had been working without a contract since 2017.

Monday, May 22, 2023

Bettering Ourselves

How can we make ourselves better people? Not better in terms of our health, or our physical or mental powers, but better morally?

Aristotle argued that friendships (particularly disinterested friendships—friendships in which we are not looking to gain anything for ourselves) constitute one path through which we may become more virtuous. Others have suggested that prayer and meditation can and do make us more virtuous. In the nineteenth century proponents of certain strands of Christianity argued that cultivating our physical health helps us to cultivate virtue as well. A number of twentieth- and twenty-first century psychologists and literacy advocates have argued that reading prose fiction tends to make us more empathetic.

In a 1942 article that has remains influential in some quarters, Simone Weil asserts that cultivating attentiveness—the sort of attentiveness that, in her view, comes from academic study undertaken with the proper attitude (“le bon usage des études scolaires”)—is an important way of cultivating virtue in ourselves. Weil was by the time she wrote the piece a fervent Christian, and her chief concern in advocating the cultivation of attentiveness is that humans do everything possible “to orient themselves towards God with the greatest possible degree of attentiveness of which the soul is capable” (“l'orientation vers Dieu de toute l'attention dont l'âme est capable”). But Weil argues as well that attentiveness tends to foster love for our neighbors as much as it does love towards God:
It's not only the love of God that has attentiveness as its substance. The love of one’s neighbor, which we know is the same love, is made of the same substance. … The capacity to pay attention to one who is suffering is a rare and difficult thing. … Almost all those who believe they have this capacity do not. Warmth of emotion, heart-felt impulsiveness, pity—these are insufficient.

[Ce n'est pas seulement l'amour de Dieu qui a pour substance l'attention. L'amour du prochain, dont nous savons que c'est le même amour, est fait de la même substance. … La capacité de faire attention à un malheureux est chose très rare, très difficile…. Presque tous ceux qui croient avoir cette capacité ne l'ont pas. La chaleur, l'élan du cœur, la pitié n'y suffisent pas.] (“Réflexions sur le bon usage des études scolaires en vue de l'amour de Dieu”)
Weil is surely right that much of the time we humans tend, even when we are expressing sympathy and warm feeling towards a fellow human being, not to truly pay attention to what they are feeling; too often we do not truly listen to what they say to us. And perhaps she is right that one way to cultivate this form of attentiveness is to cultivate attentiveness in academic study. But she does not make entirely clear through what mechanism a spirit of attentiveness to physics or geometry or grammar lessons (even a pure spirit of attentiveness that floats free of any self-oriented goals) might be readily transferrable to a spirit of attentiveness towards other people.

Are there other sorts of attentiveness that might just as plausibly—or more plausibly—possess the potential to add moral value to human life? Yes, is surely the short answer—and I would argue that some of them come from unexpected sources. More specifically, I’d argue that the pursuit of one type of work that has been reviled perhaps more than any other may offer surprising potential. I want to suggest that working in sales can help make us better people.

In the spring of 1975, when I was about to graduate with an English degree and was considering applying for jobs in book publishing, I had the good fortune to speak with two senior people in book publishing (Hugh Kane of Macmillan of Canada and Barney Sandwell of Burns and MacEachern). I had assumed—as countless English grads do—that the natural progression for someone like me would be into editorial. Both Kane and Sandwell suggested to me that the sales side was worth considering—that conversing with a variety of interesting people outside one’s company could be a good deal more interesting than poring over manuscripts all day, watching out for dangling modifiers and comma errors. They suggested too that the sales side could provide a broader and deeper understanding of the publishing business than could editorial (or Distribution, or Accounts, for that matter). They certainly did not suggest that a career in sales might have the potential to make someone a better human being. But I’m quite confident that it’s had that effect on me; that’s part of the reason why, even long after I started a new publishing company, I have continued to devote a certain amount of time to maintaining my own sales territory, and to knocking on the doors of the professors who I hope will assign our company’s books for their students.*

Discussions of sales and ethics have often focused on sleazy sales tactics—on the unethical practices that too many companies and sales representatives engage in. More than one wag has suggested that both “sales ethics” and “business ethics” are oxymoronic. If anything resembling “virtue ethics” or character formation enters the conversation, the typical assumption is that sales work tends inevitably to coarsen one’s character, encouraging one to become more competitive, more aggressive, more materialistic, and more self-interested—pumping up a variety of unattractive character traits, and doing damage to virtually all forms of higher mental activity. The image of sales as a soul-destroyer permeates twentieth-century American literature, from Arthur Miller’s The Death of a Salesman to John Updike’s Rabbit books to David Mamet’s Glengarry Glen Ross. All are great works of literature, but all portray sales as a process of misleading or cheating one’s customers as one pursues exhausting but empty goals for oneself.** As Miller’s Biff Loman puts it,
… it's a measly manner of existence. … To devote your whole life to keeping stock, or making phone calls, or selling or buying. To suffer fifty weeks of the year for the sake of a two-week vacation…. And always to have to get ahead of the next fella. And still—that’s how you build a future.

No doubt a career in sales can have all these deleterious effects. But sales work can also affect a person’s character in ways that are almost diametrically opposed to these stereotypes—and that are almost entirely positive.

A great deal depends, of course, on what you are selling. It’s impossible to imagine that anyone’s character is going to be improved by trying to sell shoddy merchandise or dodgy mining stocks. If you’re selling something that you can truly be proud of, on the other hand, that’s one good reason to be proud of what you are doing in life.

Arguably even more depends, though, on the approach one takes to selling. When most people think of what’s involved in selling, they think of the sales representative talking rather than listening—spinning a line, using every possible power of persuasion. A better approach to selling many sorts of things—and certainly a better approach when it comes to human values—involves the sales representative doing more listening than talking. Asking questions rather than giving a spiel. And then truly listening to the answers. Being curious about what the person they are speaking to may say—and truly interested in what they do say.

If you’re not trying to sell someone something that they don’t really want, you’ll have a better chance of long-term success, purely in terms of sales. But you’ll also have a better chance of making yourself into a better person. Part of becoming a better person (and it’s a lifelong struggle for most of us) is to overcome our egos enough to be truly interested in and to truly care about other people. Not just our children and our parents and our close friends—about strangers as well. To care to some degree at least about any other human being. How can sales help us to develop those sorts of feelings? Crucially, it can help us to develop a habit of asking questions of other people—which in turn can help develop a habit of genuine curiosity about other people. And the more curious we are about other people, the more we are likely to care about them too.

If you work as a sales representative for a long time—going back to the same people, in the spring sales season, in the fall sales season, year after year—that sales season structure in itself offers a strong inducement to behave ethically. If sales is a one-time encounter, the economic incentives arguably work the other way; you may well do better if you cheat or mislead the customer. But not if you know you’re going to be coming back again and again in the future. In that case there’s a very strong incentive to “build a relationship,” as the saying goes. But it’s not just a saying. Inevitably, one develops a habit of being curious about what the people you are speaking with are thinking, about what they might think, about what they might need or want. One develops habits of being genuinely interested in the people you are interacting with. One develops habits of truly listening to what is being said to you—and making an effort to understand the situation of the person who is saying it. One develops a habit of genuinely trying to help that other person—not as a matter of making more sales revenue for the company one is with, but for its own sake. (It’s not uncommon for sales representatives to recommend to their customers products from another company when they can see that whatever they are offering that season is not a good fit—and I can attest that it’s a deeply satisfying feeling for the sales rep if such suggestions turn out to be helpful.) Inevitably too, such habits seep into the rest of life. One develops a habit of asking questions of one’s spouse or partner, of one’s relatives, of one’s friends. And I think one becomes more likely to be curious about the lives of strangers too—and more likely to care about them.

None of this is to suggest that working in sales has a unique ethical status. I imagine that for some people academic study may indeed have the capacity to build habits of attentiveness that can result in an increased tendency to care for others, much as Weil suggests. (So too, I'm sure, may a career on the editorial side of the publishing business, provided that it entails serious engagement with texts and ideas rather than merely with commas and dangling modifiers!) I’m sure that, for many, simply making a decision to help others in a practical way—to volunteer for a charity helping the poor or the homeless, for example—can result both in real benefit to those others and in building habits within oneself of being attentive and caring to others. And no doubt the habit of reading can, in some circumstances at least, increase one’s capacity for empathy—though it’s surely more likely to do so if one is reading Elizabeth Gaskell’s Mary Barton (a novel offering a deeply sympathetic depiction of the life of a poor family), than it is if one is reading Thomas Dixon’s The Clansmen (a novel offering a deeply sympathetic treatment of the activities of the Ku Klux Klan). And I’m sure that building habits of disinterested friendship can help to make one a better person, just as Aristotle maintained. But a career in sales—so often denigrated as being at best a path merely to “bettering oneself” materially—also deserves consideration as a path to bettering oneself in ethical terms, and in bettering the lives of others.

Yes, sales at its worst can indeed be soul destroying. It’s persuading someone to buy something that they don’t really need and don’t even really want—telling them that color looks lovely on you! when in reality it looks hideous, or appealing to their worst instincts (What I hear from everyone who’s bought this car is that they can’t believe how many admiring looks they get). But sales at its best involves making people aware of products or services that will genuinely help them, that will make their work easier or their lives better and more enjoyable, that will genuinely offer better value, that will be better for the environment or better for the planet in myriad other ways. And by leading us to think of other people and their needs and wants, sales work can indeed help to make us better people. “Attention must be paid,” the famous line from Death of a Salesman, is a plea for caring about the life of Willy Loman, whose sales career has resulted in great damage to him and his family; “he’s a human being, and a terrible thing is happening to him.” But most people who work in sales are not Willy Lomans; it’s worth paying attention too to the ways in which and the degree to which attentiveness and caring on the part of those engaged in sales very often contributes to much happier outcomes, and contributes as well to making the world a better and more caring place.
*Next January I’ll turn 70; this coming fall will be my 85th and final sales season.

**It might also be observed that all are by male writers, and focus on male sales people. The ways in which sales has been gendered is not my subject here, but it’s a subject that deserves attention.


A selfie taken during my 84th sales season--this past February in New Orleans, outside Xavier University of Louisiana. For the past several years I've stayed when visiting New Orleans at Bed and Breakfast places in the Bywater neighborhood; there are no nearby car rental places, but there's a U-Haul that's both handy and reasonably priced (so long as one doesn't mind looking silly driving from university to university with "Only $19.95 a day" on your vehicle).

Saturday, April 29, 2023

Women and Men, Writers and Prizes, Progress

Earlier today I sent this Letter to the Editor to the Globe and Mail:
Re. We need writing prizes for women authors (April 29): You’d never guess from Susan Swan’s piece that, these days, women win more literary prizes than men. She mentions 7 prizes, and provides numbers going back decades—and she’s absolutely right that for far too long there were far too few women winners. But the past 5 years? Women have won 5 of 5 Governor General’s fiction awards, 3 Giller, 3 Writers’ Trust, and 3 PEN/Faulkner fiction prizes, as well as 3 Nobel Prizes for Literature. Of the 7 awards she mentions, only the Leacock and Pulitzer have skewed male. The total since 2018 for the prizes cited for their “discouraging” statistics is 20 women winners, 15 men. We all owe Swan a debt for being part of a monumental effort to bring about a much-needed change. But that effort is achieving more success than she seems prepared to acknowledge.
There are one or two things touched on in that letter—and in Susan Swan’s opinion piece—that I’d like to say a bit more about.

When I write that Swan is “absolutely right that for far too long there were far too few women winners” of literary prizes, I know whereof I speak. To some in my family (certainly to me), a continuing source of family shame is my father’s winning of the 1964 Governor General’s Award for English language fiction. At his best, Dad was to my mind an extremely good poet; I think “Haystack” and “Below Monte Casino” as good as any poems written about the horrors that ordinary troops experienced during the Second World War. But his one work of prose fiction, The Deserter, is an interesting novel rather than a great one; that it won the Governor General’s Award in 1964 over Margaret Laurence’s wonderfully well written and deeply moving The Stone Angel—felt by many to be the finest Canadian novel ever written—was a travesty, and a travesty hard to explain without acknowledging that Douglas LePan was, in 1964, very well connected and very male,* and that Margaret Laurence was neither of those things.

Thank God for progress! If, off the top of my head, I try to think of extraordinarily good works of new fiction I’ve read in the past few years, the names of women authors come to mind slightly more frequently than do those of males. I think immediately of seven authors: of Claire Keegan and Emma Donoghue and Sally Rooney and Elizabeth Strout, and also of Andre Alexis and Michael Crummey and Kazuo Ishiguro. That’s seven authors who come immediately to mind, four of them women.** Interestingly, the ratio of prizes touched on in that letter to the Globe (20 women, 15 men) is precisely the same, 4 to 3. I suppose my intuition, then, is that the ratio of prize winners these days is—so far as gender is concerned—very much as it should be!

* * *

In her highly engaging (if unfortunately titled) new book Left is Not Woke Susan Nieman, who is herself very much a thinker of the left, takes issue with three aspects of what she sees as “woke” leftist thought today. Perhaps the most interesting of the three is her discussion of the great irony that many today who style themselves “progressive” have a deep suspicion of any argument suggesting that progress may be occurring—sometimes even of any argument suggesting that progress is possible. Many on the left, Nieman suggests, suffer from a suspicion of the notion of progress so profound that they recoil from acknowledging progress when it does occur—including when it occurs in large part as a result of “progressive” efforts that they themselves have been associated with. I cannot think of anything I’ve read recently that is a better example of this tendency that Susan Swan’s piece in this weekend’s Globe and Mail. To the extent that it acknowledges that any progress at all has been made, it does so grudgingly; the emphasis is entirely on the degree to which males have dominated over the past 119 years, with barely a nod to the extraordinary degree to which women have nevertheless triumphed in the face of all odds.

The Governor General’s Award for English language fiction was awarded in only eight years in the 1960s--in two years the jury decided against presenting any award--but there were nine winners (in 1968 there were two winners, Alice Munro and Mordecai Richler). Of the nine winners, seven were men; Laurence won in 1966 for A Jest of God, an award that many thought was informed by the failure of the 1964 jury to recognize Laurence’s achievement with A Stone Angel. Even those who argue (and I am very much among them) that women are still discriminated against in many walks of life, and that more remains to be done in order to achieve full gender equality, should surely acknowledge that there has been progress. And if there has been progress over the past half century, that should surely give us confidence that more progress is possible in the years to come.
*He was also, even by most who knew him in those days, thought to be mainstream in terms of his sexual orientation; Dad did not come out as gay until the 1980s.
**One thing to note: this list is focused only on English-language fiction writing of recent years. If other genres are to be considered, I might add three other writers--Lynn Nottage (whose excellent play Sweat I read not too long ago), Margaret Atwood (for her very fine poetry volume The Door), and Ta Nahesi Coates (for his superb long essay "The Case for Reparations")--the addition of which would make the overall ratio 3-2 rather than 4-3.
[I have left the above unrevised, but I should give credit here to Globe editor Danielle Adams, who fact-checked and discovered that I had my addition wrotng when it came to the PEN/Faulkner; as she pointed out, 4 women and only one man had won that award in the five previous years, so that the overall five-year total for these prizes combined was 21 women winners and 14 men. The correction was made when the Globe published the letter on May 9.]

Monday, April 24, 2023

Ashes

[I wrote this essay in 2018, but for some reason never posted it on this blog. I'll do so now.]
For the last year of her life my mother had, as they say, lost it. Anything she picked up, she would lose in a minute. Any thought that she had, she would lose in a second. She was in the nursing home’s double-doored lock ward, so the one thing she couldn’t lose was herself. She’d been dead for several years before I managed to lose her. No, not “lose.” Misplace.

My mother’s ashes came in a lacquered box, about 10 inches long, 6 inches wide, and a couple of inches deep. Inside, what was left of her was in a plastic bag. Thick plastic, the open end folded over twice. There was no twist-tie—no extra precautionary measure to prevent her escaping.

Anyone who has ever seen the ashes of a loved one—but why do I write “seen”? We are all so conditioned to think that what we see is what is most important, when what we hear and taste and smell and feel can matter just as much. What we feel, in this case. The seeing is ordinary, unremarkable. But the feel of a human’s ashes? Anyone who has ever experienced that feeling will tell you that they’re heavy—a lot heavier than you’d expect. For their volume, they must weigh three or four times more than the ashes from a wood fire. And they are gritty, with little chunks all through—not soft like wood ashes. The bones, I guess.

My mother could never decide what she wanted done with her after she died. She knew she wanted to be cremated—that much was clear. But after that?

She’d said at one point that maybe it would make sense to have her ashes buried next to her own mother’s grave. But that was in Pennsylvania, nowhere near where any of the family lived now—and besides, she’d said herself that she didn’t feel any real connection to Pennsylvania.

Perhaps I should bury the ashes in the city I was living in—or the city my brother lived in, where our mother had lived herself for more than twenty years. But it was so cold there; she’d never been very fond of the place.

Maybe scatter the ashes? That would be fine—but where? A few of her favorite places, I supposed; I could think of two of three spots that might qualify. I equivocated. More than once I wished that mother had been more definite as to what she wanted to happen, after she died. So it was that, for years, I kept the box that held her ashes, not sure what to do with it. With them. With her? For a while they were on the top shelf of a cupboard, for a while in a bureau drawer. But at least I knew where they were—and some day I would decide what to do with them.

Then I moved. Then I moved again a year later. And then that place was turned upside down by renovations, and everything had to be moved from one room to another and back again.

So it was that early last year, when for some reason I started to think seriously about doing something about my mother’s ashes, I couldn’t find them. I looked in the bureau drawer where I was sure they had been for a while at one point. I looked on the top shelf of the renovated cupboards. The basement? A lot of things had ended up in a jumble in the basement during that renovation. I looked in each place more than once. She was nowhere to be found. A few days later I looked again, and a few weeks after that I looked once more. She had not reappeared.

My mother had died of Alzheimer’s, and now I couldn’t remember where I had put her.

I tried to laugh, as people do about things that have to do with death. If it hadn’t been me who was responsible, maybe I would have found it funny. I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter, that she really hadn’t cared about what would happen to her after she died. And she hadn’t. She hadn’t been religious in any way—other than having liked the sound of a choir. She had believed that we die, and that’s it; what lives on is whatever we have done in the world, and our children and others who remember us.

At odd moments over the course of almost a year I found myself looking for her again. Might I have put her in that forgotten space behind the furnace? Might I have stored her in that closet upstairs that’s never used? I looked behind everything. Twice.

To be reminded of the death of a loved one is to be reminded of one’s own mortality—many people will tell you that. But it’s not true for everyone; certainly it’s not true for me. I may sometimes be reminded of my own mortality by the death of someone I’ve known much more distantly—an acquaintance from high school days, for example, who I was never close to then and have rarely seen since. But if I’m reminded of the death of a loved one, what I’m reminded of is for the most part simply the loved one—nothing and no one else. This was about my mother, and I had lost her.

She always had a tendency to make her children feel guilty about one thing or another. She was doing it still.

I found her last week. The box that held her ashes was in a dark corner of the basement, behind four things and underneath two others; somehow I had missed her all those times when I thought I’d looked everywhere.

What to do now? Finding my mother means I no longer have to tussle with that twinge of guilt that no one who loses their mother can avoid. But it also means coming up hard against the fact of her never coming back.

I’ll be travelling to Pennsylvania for a conference in the spring. Maybe I’ll take her with me.

[Postcript, 2023: My brother and I finally decided last year what we would do. Ashes have gone as ashes will always eventually go, into earth or air, and a memorial stone honors our mother's memory:

Sarah Catherine Chambers LePan

1917-2003

We had a small gathering when the stone was placed; we wept, and we said things in remembrance of her.]

Saturday, April 22, 2023

Meat and Milk, Children and Mothers

Nicholas Kristof had an excellent column in the New York Times of April 15; "What a Girl’s Goat Teaches Us About Our Food" tells the story of how a nine-year-old girl in Shasta County, California, grew very fond of Cedar, a goat she was taking care of as a 4H member--so fond that, when it came time to give Cedar up for slaughter at the end of the County Fair, as was usual practice, she couldn't do it. Instead, she and her mother took the goat to a place they thought would be safe. The County Fair authorities argued that the girl and her mother were legally obliged to have the goat killed. The authorities were so determined to have what they saw as a four-legged piece of personal property killed that they liaised with the County Sherriff's office and persuaded the Sherriff to send law enforement officers some 500 miles to capture the goat and return it to County Fair authorities. Cedar was found, and Cedar was duly slaughtered, just as the authorities had wanted.

Kristof treats the incident as a reminder that "the bright line we draw between farm animals and our pet dogs and cats is an arbitrary one." He takes aim at the cruelties of factory farming and the unreasonableness of ag gag laws, and recounts how he himself has given up eating meat.

The piece inspired many comments, a number of which Kristof responded to with comments of his own, including one in which he contrasted the cruelties of today's dairy farming with the practices of earlier generations of dairy farmers. It was in response to that Kristof comment that I ssent the following letter to the Times:
Nicholas Kristof’s moving column on the horrors of the meat industry is superb. But he forgets the fundamental facts of the dairy industry when he writes that "it used to be that dairy cows were mostly pastured and had a decent life." No mother has a decent life if her newborn children are taken away from her soon after birth so that the members of another species can take her milk. And when the mother stops providing large amounts of milk, she is killed (rather than being allowed to live out her 20-year natural lifespan). Even in the old days, the dairy industry inflicted horrible cruelty on the mothers and daughters as well as on the sons who were killed to become veal. Unlike in the old days, substitutes for both dairy and meat products have become readily available; there need be no real sacrifice on the part of humans in moving towards a plant-based diet.
"What a Girl's Goat Teaches Us about Our Food" truly is an excellent column. I urge you to read it: https://www.nytimes.com/2023/04/15/opinion/goat-girl-slaughtered-california.html

Sunday, April 16, 2023

The Message of Ben Affleck's Air: Courting a Legend

In contemplating the popular new Ben Affleck movie Air: Courting a Legend, it may be best to begin with some numbers. The financial net worth of an American senior citizen is typically in the range of $250,000. For the poorest quintile, of course, median net worth is much lower—at the low end, it’s common for a senior to have a net worth of $15,000, or even less.

Legendary shoe and logo designer Peter Moore, who died in 2022 at the age of 78, was estimated by Celebrity Net Worth to have had a net worth of almost $10 million not long before he died. He was, in other words, almost 40 times richer than the average American of the same age, and more than 650 times richer than a typical senior citizen in the poorest quintile.

Michael Jordan is also now by some measures a senior citizen; he recently turned 60. His 2022 net worth has been estimated to be in the range of $2 billion. Last year, then, he was 200 times richer than Peter Moore, roughly 8,000 times richer than the average American senior, and more than 5,000,000 times richer than the average American senior in the poorest quintile of the population.

Unbelievably, the perniciously charming Air invites us to root for Jordan as a financial underdog. In a key scene near the end of the movie, Jordan’s mother Deloris (played by Viola Davis) tells Nike’s Sonny Vaccaro (played by Matt Damon) that fairness demands that Jordan, who will, it’s claimed, be responsible for generating most of the money that will come from Air Jordan sales, receive not only the $250,000 that Nike has offered, but also a royalty on every pair of shoes sold. Vaccaro says he agrees with her that such a deal would be fair, but tells her as well that it’s never been done in the industry, and that he doesn’t think Nike CEO Phil Knight would ever go for a royalty deal. Of course Knight (played by Affleck) finally sees the light, the deal gets done, and it’s hugs and fist pumps and a happy ending all round.

The movie seems to embrace values we all share: how it can pay to take risks, to truly believe in something or someone against all the odds: how oppressed athletes deserve to be empowered against faceless corporate boards; how mothers deserve to be empowered as they struggle on their children’s behalf; how the struggles of black mothers and black women in particular deserve to be acknowledged and celebrated.

Doesn’t it? Well, no. Not unless we take a blinkered view of the movie, and of modern America. Air is such a well-directed, well-acted, well-scripted, enjoyably entertaining film that’s it’s hard not to come out of the theater with blinkers on as to the values that it is promoting. But it’s worth giving the matter more thought.

First of all, let’s remember that Michael Jordan has nothing to do with designing the shoe; it’s Peter Moore who designs the shoe, gives it the name “Air Jordan,” and designs the iconic logo. What Jordan provides is a vehicle for hyping the shoe, not anything that makes it a better product. (A parallel example: if a novel is hyped by Oprah Winfrey, we expect sales revenues for the publisher and royalties for the author to soar—but we don’t think Winfrey deserves millions of dollars for recommending the book.)

Remove the blinkers, and we can see that what Air celebrates is an America in which a tiny minority become fabulously wealthy while ordinary people pay inflated prices for goods whose “value” rests on marketing hype rather than quality. An America in which we are too often tricked into rooting for “underdogs” who are nothing of the kind. (Interestingly, the film chooses to tell the story as one in which Nike offers Jordan $250,000, instead of the amount they actually offered in 1984, $2,500,000—$500,000 per year for five years, not counting the royalties.)

Here’s another take on how the Air story really ends. Michael Jordan’s net worth grows to over $2 billion. Phil Knight’s net worth grows to over $40 billion. Jordan’s agent David Falk sells his business for $100 million. Workers in Vietnam and Cambodia who make Air Jordan shoes are paid 25 cents per hour. And parents who often can’t really afford it are pressured into paying $185 for a pair of Air Jordan shoes that cost $5 to produce. Fist pumps, anyone?

Saturday, April 15, 2023

In Remembrance: Vance Benjamin Elliott

Some obituaries can convey a good deal even when they tell almost nothing. In mid-February of this year my partner Maureen and I realized that Vance—a friendly but frail old fellow who had for years been stopping round pretty regularly to take away our empties—hadn’t been by for at least a couple of weeks. We thought that perhaps something might have happened to him—more than once before he’d not been round for long periods when (as we would discover later) he’d been hospitalized. But he had been getting more and more frail over the past year, and of course another thought occurred to us.

We knew his first and last names and we knew he had family down the road a ways in Duncan. When Maureen googled, the search engine quickly brought up “Vance Elliott Obituary - Duncan, BC” and this notice on the Dignity Memorial site:
Obituary Vance Benjamin Elliott August 12, 1960 – January 29, 2023 In the care of First Memorial Funeral Services Vance Benjamin Elliott, age 62, of Nanaimo, British Columbia passed away on Sunday, January 29, 2023.
That was all. The notice said that “fond memories and expressions of sympathy” could be posted and shared “for the Elliott family,” but there was nothing posted, from the family or from any friends.

How had Vance died? Had there been any funeral service? Or any “celebration of life,” as such things have for the most part come to be called? (There is a dreary inevitability to this sort of twenty-first century positivism, with its insistence on “passed away” or “passed” in place of the plain truth of “died,” and its implicit refusal to acknowledge the reality of grief, of loss, of death itself.)

Maureen and I worked out the dates; we must have last seen Vance on Saturday, January 28, the day before he died. He would usually show up at some point on a Saturday morning, his loud “Bam, Ba Ba Bam; Bam Bam” on the door always seeming to belie his seeming frailty. I would usually answer the door, say hi, and ask him how he was doing—though that was generally fairly evident from his appearance. Even at 11am on a Saturday morning, Vance would sometimes be swaying a little and slurring a little; occasionally he would be swaying and slurring a great deal, but more often than not, particularly in his last few years, he was comparatively sober when he called. The last few years too, he usually bore no signs of having been in a scrap; when he had started calling round—perhaps in 2014 or 2015—it wasn’t uncommon for him to look a bit beaten up, and to say, laconically, “yeah, I got into a bit of a fight the other night.”

Other things changed as well. At first Vance had come round with a small shopping cart, and showed obvious pleasure if we had a large bag of empties for him. But then he broke his hip. After that he could only get about shuffling quite slowly, with the help of a walker; the most he could manage at any one time was a pretty small bag of empties, tied to one of the handles. (If there were a larger bag, we’d leave it at the side of the house; “I’ll come back later,” he would assure us, and he always did, though it sometimes took a few days. The odd time he would enlist the help of a relative who would bring him round in her car to pick up the empties; she never looked too happy about that arrangement.)

His spirits held up remarkably well despite everything; his smile was almost always lopsided but genuinely warm. If it was me answering the door he would always say “How’s Maureen?” or, more frequently, “How’s the missus?” I would tell him, and often Maureen would join us and she and Vance would chat for a short time about the weather or about life in general while I fetched the empties. I would always fetch a bit of cash as well—"a small thank you,” I would call it as I pressed it into his hand, assuring him that he was doing us a favor by taking away the cans and bottles—as he truly was.

As time went by and Vance’s condition was obviously deteriorating, the small thank-yous became a little larger; instead of a couple of dollars or a five-dollar bill it would be a ten, or, for the last couple of years, a twenty. (That was no big deal; as things appeared to have gotten steadily tougher for Vance financially, they had gotten slowly but steadily better for Maureen and me.)

Vance never said thank you for the “small thank-yous”—not directly, at least. What he did instead was to begin bringing us gifts. One time he showed up, looking triumphant, with a couple of large ornamental planters, made of some light plastic in an odd shade of faded yellow. “They’re for you and the missus!” He announced with a big smile. And it was with a big smile too that he brought us six months or so ago a set of forty-year-old medical reference books, published I think by Reader’s Digest. One gift I will treasure is a poster mounted on a sturdy wood backing. It’s one of those British Columbia tourist posters with the old slogan “Super. Natural. British Columbia.” But instead of the usual mountains and ocean, the photo on the poster is of faces on a totem pole—faces that look far more realistic than most Pacific Coast totem pole faces, far more human. “I got it from a friend,” Vance reported; “he only wanted twenty bucks for it.” I assured him that we would give it a place of honor on our walls—and we have.

He kept offering to give more. He would often comment on the flowers in front of the house—clearly he liked flowers. And then he would look at the grass and say “I could cut that for you; why don’t I cut your grass for you?” One look at how his frail body tottered was enough to make clear that Vance could never have pushed a lawnmower. But I think he still believed that he could; I don’t believe it was an empty offer.

With his shopping cart or walker festooned with bags of empties, Vance could easily have passed for a homeless person, but he was not homeless. He lived in a small apartment, I believe, though Maureen and I never did find out in what building it was. For a while he had a companion—like my partner, named Maureen, though she kept separate quarters in the same building; “my old lady,” he would call her. But his old lady died a year or so ago; Vance had been alone since then.

Had he ever been married? Did he have children? We never knew. But some months ago we did find out something about his early life. When the horror of Canada’s residential schools had been much in the news for some time, I asked him one Saturday morning if he’d been in one of those schools. His voice dropped and deepened, and his lips tightened. “Oh yeah. We were cold. We were always hungry. I was beaten. We were all beaten. I was raped. The priests…” That was about all he could say.

Though Maureen and I were never on the receiving end of his anger, it was clear that Vance could get into a vicious temper. I remember one day when he stood on the sidewalk, trying to tell me about something he clearly saw as an outrage in the building he lived in. “Those bastards!” he growled, “they won’t keep the stairway clean. It’s filthy!” he spat out the word, and I thought that I wouldn’t want to meet him in that mood on that stairway.

Had he often instigated the fights he sometimes got into? Had his anger led to Vance becoming estranged from some members of his family? (He had an aunt living nearby who he saw frequently and who helped him out, he would tell us, but he also had relatives in Duncan and in Port Alberni, and he didn’t seem to see much of them.) There was a great deal about Vance that we never knew. I had thought I might gradually find out more as our chats became more frequent; as he had become older and frailer, he had started coming round more and more frequently to the houses where he could reliably find empties. Now that won’t happen.

A month ago Maureen and I posted a comment on the funeral home’s site:
We were so very sorry to learn today of Vance's death. For several years now Vance has been dropping by every week or so and helping us out by taking our empties; we have always enjoyed chatting with him. He clearly did not have the easiest life, but he managed to persevere. We will greatly miss his good humor and his generous spirit.
I checked in at the site once more today. It’s the only comment posted. Yet his was a life that had real meaning to it, that had real warmth to it, that even in its odd way had some richness to it. He made something with some richness to it out of very, very little. And, despite everything, he kept real kindness alive in his soul. I will miss his slow shuffle and his smile and his “How’s the missus?” I will miss him.

There’s one other gift I haven’t mentioned—a horseshoe that Vance presented us with about eighteen months ago. It’s a horseshoe for throwing, not for shoeing horses with. But, according to Vance, it will bring good luck if we nail it up above our front door. It’s been sitting on a shelf in the front hall ever since he gave it to us; this weekend Maureen and I are resolved to finally nail it up above our front door. We won’t ever take it down.