Wow – Canada!

Canada through the eyes of world literature

Archive for the tag “Leonard Cohen”

No One Suspects a Canadian

zinkprivatenovelist

Nell Zink, Private Novelist (2016)

This book actually contains two works, “Sailing Toward the Sunset by Avner Shats” and “European Story for Avner Shats,” both of which could be described as exercises or experiments and both of which, as their titles make clear, have some connection to the Israeli writer Avner Shats. I’m going to consider them separately.

“Sailing Toward the Sunset by Avner Shats”

I won’t go into all the complexities of how this story was created, partly because I don’t completely understand it myself; I think it is Zink’s (extremely free) re-writing of a novel by Avner Shats called Sailing Toward the Sunset, which she sent to him in parts, by email, as some sort of friendly joke. The important information is that the main plot (of Zink’s version at least) revolves around a Mossad agent named Yigal and his love affair with Mary, a silkie from the Shetland Islands. This scene is between the two of them:

The next scene actually took place in Yigal’s bed, but I am informed by Shats that the vast majority of scenes in Israeli fiction take place in cemeteries, so we’ll say instead that Yigal and Mary were holding hands as they walked on noisy gravel past the blazing white stones and skinny cypresses of the old cemetery on the south side of Tel Aviv. They rested for a moment in the shade under an aluminum canopy, and he fetched her a cup of water. Several aisles away a funeral was going on. The naked body of a middle-aged woman, wrapped in a sheet, was slowly vanishing under half a ton of sand. Yigal lay on his back, watching a reflection on the ceiling. Mary drank with her head on a pillow, dribbling water down her chin. He turned toward her and asked, “How did you get here, anyway? Swim?”
“No, I flew. On an airplane.”
“What sort of passport?”
“Canadian.”
“How’d you get that?”
“I bought it.”   (82-3)

As a secret agent, Yigal is naturally interested in the particulars of how Mary is able to travel by plane when, being a silkie, she presumably has no “human” identification. The implication (though left unstated) of the passage is that a Canadian passport is essentially a free ticket to anywhere because, given our reputation as a nation of polite, boring mediocrities, no one would ever think that a Canadian could be engaged in any kind of nefarious activity. The Canadian passport is, therefore, a perfect cover in the espionage world, and I think we can assume that Yigal is impressed Mary has managed to get her hands on one.

(As an aside, espionage, which came up in one of our earliest posts (on John le Carré), has been experiencing a resurgence lately, featuring in our posts on Dickens, Kim Philby and James Jesus Angleton.)

The next reference to Canada comes in a section titled “‘My Memoirs’ by Nell,” which is described in the back cover blurb as “Zink’s heartrending memoir ‘My Memoirs.'” I have to admit I feel that oversells the impact of the piece somewhat, but maybe it suffered from my raised expectations. Anyway, here is the opening paragraph:

When I was eighteen, my mother and I took a trip to Greater Detroit, where my elder brother was in school. After two years on a tuba scholarship at Valley Forge Military Academy, he had chosen to attend the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor. He was majoring, of course, in mathematics, but had elected, in his first semester, to study both elementary Hebrew and elementary Arabic, and his grades were suffering. In the second semester, after our visit, he accepted his tuition money from our mother and used it to buy a very large and even mysterious stereo system. I remember the amplifier well, a silver cube with a vertical row of red LEDs and one knob. His record was The Velvet Underground and Nico. I bought him Songs of Leonard Cohen, and he played them both.   (226-7)

Things really don’t get any more heartrending from there.

We obviously can’t conclude much about Canada from this reference, though it is a compliment, I suppose, that Leonard Cohen’s debut album should have a place in such an obviously limited record collection, and we could perhaps argue that, along with the Velvet Underground, it suggests the arty, avant garde tastes of the narrator’s brother.

“European Story for Avner Shats”

Though it’s only a few months since I read Private Novelist, I really can’t remember much at all about this story — in fact I’d forgotten it was even in the book until I flipped through it again to work on this post. It has something to do with a group of students — or artists? — who meet at an artist’s colony — in Italy maybe? — and there’s a love triangle? — but anyway the important point is that there’s an old man in a nursing home who has hidden away a stash of valuable art, which several characters are trying to get their hands on. The reference to Canada comes in a scene between Eyal, who is trying to get the artworks by pretending to be a historian for a shipping company, and the old man, with the old man’s daughter acting as interpreter:

But generally the old man seemed pleased to meet the art historian of a shipping company, or to have a visitor — Eyal wasn’t sure. He claimed, the daughter translated, that he had been around the Horn sixty times under sail before 1935, though not always as captain, and began to list the ships by name. Eyal tried to write down all the names. In the end, bored of repeating herself and spelling things out, the daughter asked the old man to write them down himself.
The name of the eleventh ship, between “Anne Shirley, Prince Edward Island,” and “Netochka Nezvanova, Vladivostok,” caught Eyal’s eye. It was “Come Back Alone, Tuesday.”   (276-77)

This is a clever way to arrange a clandestine meeting. Both ships are rather obvious literary jokes, though pitched at very different registers: the Russian ship is named after a Dostoevsky novel, while the Canadian ship references the main character in Lucy Maud Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables (and various sequels) which, while popular enough to draw tourists to Prince Edward Island every year, is not (I think it’s safe to say) generally regarded as a literary masterwork.

We could, if we wished, draw some rather pointed conclusions about the standing of Canadian literature in the international imagination. Apparently, when Zink asks herself, “What would be a literary name for a Russain ship?” she immediately thinks of Dostoevsky; when she asks herself the same question about a Canadian ship, she comes up with Anne Shirley (rather than, say, The Cat’s Eye or The Del Jordan or The Stone Angel — though the latter might be tempting fate as a ship’s name). Canada, we are forced to admit, is not known for producing writers of Dostoevsky’s standing, but rather for what is essentially a children’s book.

On the other hand, this may be the first time Lucy Maud Montgomery has been mentioned in the same sentence as Dostoevsky. So that’s progress.

One Book, Three Icons of Canadian Music

Adam Crothers, Several Deer (2016)

This marvellous first collection by Adam Crothers includes, among a number of wonderful poems, two familiar figures of Canadian music and a Canadian music group that we haven’t seen a reference to before.

We’ll begin with the familiar and go on from there.

Neil Young

First, another reference to the man who must be the most-mentioned Canadian musician in books written by non-Canadians:

Better to Burn Out

Better out than in, according to Neil Young,
who still can’t quite unfasten that note, make it detach
from its string. Hence this sort of knelling.
He says you should sometimes aim for the ditch:

hence this feeling of veering, this switch
to feigned loss from feigned sense of control.
Night drive home. The universe slows to watch
you flicker, tire, covet the centre. I pick up your trail.

The scent of epic fail. Petroleum; too long awake.
Lavender, and terror you can’t shake. I’m not
putting your scent down. Your wick
should be lovely as a long weekend,

and I would not have you sleep, or half. The half-asleep
Christian says it’s fine to be a sheep
but it matters what you want a sheep to be…!
It never counts. And even rust never sleeps with me:

it stays alert, lugging schemes through dense hazard of mind,
and on stirring I’m urged to keep up. Ever-losing,
I’d claim nothing valiant
for this flocky stubbornness, nothing worth praising,

nor’d I call us angels, me and my ilk:
backseat drivers, fevered, patching absurd
half-protective gestures onto sheep’s-milk
bedsheets, those our riven love will never dye.

I won’t attempt to analyze this whole poem for you — you can work it out for yourself! — but there are a couple of interesting points about Neil Young here. The title is a quote from either “My My, Hey Hey (Out of the Blue)” or “Hey Hey, My My (Into the Black)” (both contain the line “it’s better to burn out”), and the reference to “the ditch” invokes Young’s famous statement about “Heart of Gold”:

That song put me in the middle of the road. Travelling there soon became a bore so I headed for the ditch.

(His subsequent three albums — Time Fades Away, Tonight’s the Night and On the Beach — are sometimes called “The Ditch Trilogy.”)

Neil crops up again at the end of the fourth stanza in the line “even rust never sleeps with me,” which demonstrates Crothers’ fondness for the fluidity of meaning and his punning way of taking phrases and changing their sense by slightly altering or recombining them (see also, “love will never dye”): here Young’s idea of the relentlessness of decay is seemingly transformed into a suggestion that rust won’t have sex with the poet — though the unexpected continuation in the next line seems to change the meaning back again. (I get dizzy trying to keep up!)

Leonard Cohen

Another Canadian singer-songwriter comes up in the poem “September,” which is too long for me to quote in its entirety; here are the relevant lines:

Brothers Grimm, come eat my heart.
The sisters of mercy have gone and depart-
ed — pace, pace Leonard Cohen.
Pace about your patchy cabin:

I’ll pace myself about my mansion,
note floodwaters’ surface tension,
buoy my mark, enunciate,
but skim the script and come in late.

The reference is to the song “The Sisters of Mercy,” in which Cohen insists that the sisters of the title have not departed or gone — Crothers clearly has a different idea. (And just note, by the way, how elegantly “Pace” picks up “pace” from the previous line — the sort of wordplay Crothers delights in.)

Cowboy Junkies

And finally, at the end of the book, we find this note to the poem “Vorticists off Earth Now!!”:

Cowboy Junkies’ 1986 debut album, Whites off Earth Now!!, opens with a version of ‘Shining Moon’ by Lightnin’ Hopkins.

Well this is a first — and perhaps, dare I say it, a marker of a generational shift? The Canadian musicians we’ve encountered before have generally been icons of the 60s and 70s, such as Young, Cohen, and Joni Mitchell, but now we have a band that came to prominence with The Trinity Session in 1988 — when Crothers, born in 1984 (good lord!) was a preschooler. As this book shows, Young and Cohen are still a part of the cultural conversation, but a younger generation of Canadian musicians has moved into the consciousness of the world beyond our borders.

What is perhaps most remarkable about these references is how completely absent Canada is from them: our country is never named in the book, and the singers mentioned are never identified as Canadian — even in the note about Cowboy Junkies, where such a mention might seem more natural than it would in the body of a poem. Neil Young, Leonard Cohen, Cowboy Junkies — they have joined the pantheon of world culture, and are invoked without reference to their country of origin. They have escaped the burden of Canadianness — they are free.

This is thrilling and admirable but also, perhaps, a little sad. Or is it we who are sad — we who insist, every time one of these artists is mentioned, on saying, “And did you know he’s Canadian?” or  “They’re Canadian, you know”?

Opportunities for Further Study

For more on references to Canada in Irish literature, you can check out our post on Flann O’Brien, our post on Derek Mahon and our series on Paul Muldoon: Part I, Part II and Part III. We also have a number of posts on Neil Young and Leonard Cohen, which can be browsed at our Neil Young Archive and our Leonard Cohen Archive.

Personal Reminiscences, Of No General Importance — Please Skip

Forgive me, but his book calls up a host of memories for me. Both The Songs of Leonard Cohen and The Trinity Session were among the first (vinyl) records I bought when I was in high school, and I can recall a time when the Cowboy Junkies version of “Sweet Jane” was constantly on the radio — followed, a couple of years later, by “Sun Comes Up, It’s Tuesday Morning,” a song that was so ubiquitous I can still recall most of the lyrics. It was from The Caution Horses, which also, incidentally, contained a cover of Neil Young’s “Powderfinger” — as Pound would say, “What splendour — it all coheres!” As for Whites off Earth Now!!, I never owned it but I recall holding a (vinyl, again) copy of it in my hands at a little used record store up a flight of narrow steps on Yonge Street (cf. Muldoon Part II, linked above) and finally deciding not to buy it. The band was popular by then and, being rare, it was probably expensive.

And Now, A Little Music

Neil Young & Crazy Horse doing “Hey Hey, My My” from the Weld/Ragged Glory period:

Leonard Cohen, with the original album version of “Sisters of Mercy”:

Here are Cowboy Junkies with their version of “Shining Moon”:

And here is the original Lightnin’ Hopkins version:

And if none of that entertains you, then nothing will.

Neil Young, the Bard of Boring Suburbanites

wolitzercov

Meg Wolitzer, The Interestings (2013)

This novel begins with a group of teenagers forming a clique at a summer arts camp and naming themselves “the Interestings,” and then follows the course of their lives into adulthood. (The set-up reminded me, weirdly perhaps, of what I’ve heard about this book, though I haven’t actually read it. I wonder if it mentions Canada….) Jules Jacobson, the central character, is a bit of an outsider in this group (she feels lucky to be included), and her experiences and perceptions are at the heart of the book, though it goes on occasional tangents to focus on other characters.

There are no direct references to Canada as a country, but there are a couple of references to Canadians that seem worth mentioning; they even pick up on figures we have come across before.

1. Leonard Cohen

The first relates to Jonah Bay, one of “the Interestings” and the son of Susannah Bay, a famous folksinger who seems to be loosely modelled on Joan Baez. Barry Claimes, another folksinger and a friend of Susannah’s, has been struggling, and failing, to write his own original songs. He begins inviting Jonah over to his house, where he plies the child with hallucinogens, hands him a guitar and records whatever comes out of his mouth. Claimes then works Jonah’s spontaneous, drug-fuelled compositions into songs, which he presents (or, you might say, “claims” — ha-ha) as his own.

At this point in the novel Jonah has figured out that something is wrong in this relationship with Barry, but Barry keeps phoning him:

Barry called him back a dozen times, and Jonah didn’t realize that he could simply not answer. Each time the phone rang, Jonah answered. And each time, Barry Claimes said he cared about him, he missed him, he wanted to see him, Jonah was his favorite person, even including all the folksingers he had known — even including Susannah and Joan Baez and Pete Seeger and Richie Havens and Leonard Cohen.  (126)

Leonard Cohen, the lone Canadian, simply appears in a list of folksingers; there is no comment on the fact that he is Canadian, or on Canada as a country; we simply notice a Canadian taking his place in that particular pantheon.

To me, however, the reference to Cohen seems a little odd. This scene in the novel takes place in 1970; certainly Cohen had put out albums at that time, and was known as a folksinger, but was he really a figure that people would think of in the same breath, so to speak, as Joan Baez and Pete Seeger? (Contrast, for example, Graham Nash’s reference to him as “Joni’s Canadian friend” in his memoir, which suggests that, to Nash at least, Cohen wasn’t well-known.) Cohen has endured and his reputation has grown over the intervening time, and especially since the 1990s (even in Russia), and I wonder if his appearance here is more reflective of the time the novel was written (2010-2012, presumably, given that it was published in 2013) rather than the time it takes place.

2. Neil Young

The second Canadian reference occurs when Jules is on the phone with her best friend, Ash, discussing Ash’s brother Goodman. At this point in the novel, it is 1976:

From the next room Jules could hear her sister Ellen’s roaring blow-dryer, and the same Neil Young album that seemed to be on autoplay, with the singer’s thin voice now singing, “There were children crying / and colors flying / all around the chosen ones.”  (169)

Jules’ sister, obviously, is listening to After the Gold Rush (released in 1970). I suppose this idea of irritation at a sibling’s taste in music expresses one of the universal truths of human life: I have heard my father make the same complaint about his sister, although in that case it was Frank Sinatra’s “I’ve Got the World on a String” that she was listening to over and over.

What is interesting here, I think, is the question of what liking Neil Young says about a person. To Jules, Ash and her brother Goodman represent everything she yearns for in life: they live in New York City, their parents are wealthy and sophisticated, and they are brought up in a world of art and culture. By contrast, Jules despises her own life outside New York in an ugly house with her dull sister and widowed mother, which to her is the very definition of everything boring and suburban.

Neil Young’s music is associated with Jules’ sister — that is, with the stultifying absence of culture in suburbia — rather than with Ash and her family in New York City. This Canadian musician, then, represents the dull, middle-of-the-road, and vaguely irritating musical taste of the suburban bourgeoisie, which is what Jules yearns to escape. (This is notably different, by the way, from Neil’s totemic position as a culture hero to current American hipsters.)

There is also an undeniable tone of exasperation in the description: the record “seemed to be on autoplay,” the singer has a “thin voice,” and perhaps most of all, Jules’ sister is listening to it with her hair dryer on (providing a version of the “vacuum cleaner continuo” suggested by another Canadian, Glenn Gould?) — it’s hard to ignore the implication that listening to Neil Young is no pleasure. The fact that he is Canadian is never directly expressed in the novel, but could the American stereotype of Canadians as rather dull and unadventurous lie behind this choice of Neil Young as representative of boring taste in music?

(Alternatively — and if we wanted to try to salvage a bit of Neil’s reputation here — we might observe that Ellen is listening to an album, which originally came out in 1970, in 1976. This might suggest that it is not Neil Young himself whose music is dull and suburban, but only that Ellen’s taste is rather behind the times.)

Regardless of that, the presence of both Leonard Cohen and Neil Young in the novel shows again the extent to which Canadian artists and performers are woven into the cultural texture of American life, something we have noticed before in books by Lorrie Moore and Dave Van Ronk, to name just a couple of examples.

3. The Music

Here is Leonard Cohen live in 1970, to give an idea of what his music sounded like at that particular point in time:

And here is “After the Gold Rush,” with Neil’s voice admittedly sounding thin even by his rather attenuated standards:

Leonard Cohen, Keanu Reeves, and a Canadian Woodpecker Go to Russia…

sorokincover

Vladimir Sorokin, Ice Trilogy (Bro, Ice, 23,000) (trans. Jamey Gambrell) (2008)

In general I try to get to the Canadian content as quickly as possible, but in the case of this long and complex trilogy, there’s really no way to talk about specific elements of the book without first providing some context. Hence the first two, Canada-free sections.

Plot Summary

Okay, strap yourself in.

Originally, there was nothing but 23,000 rays of celestial light. By vibrating in primordial harmony with one another, these 23,000 rays of light created the entire universe. But then they made a mistake: Earth. Or more specifically, they accidentally created water on the surface of the Earth. By reflecting the 23,000 rays of light, the water captured them; the rays of light became trapped in tiny organisms living in the water and could not escape. And so, as the process of evolution took place over millennia on Earth, the rays of light were constantly reincarnated in various life forms, until ultimately they ended up trapped in the bodies of 23,000 humans. But none of these humans was aware that they held within themselves one of the 23,000 rays of light that had created the universe.

Got it so far? Good.

In 1908, the Tunguska Event occurred – that’s a fact. But in this novel the Tungus meteorite, which exploded over Siberia, was sent from space because it contained a chunk of celestial ice, which was destined to reawaken the 23,000 rays of light and remind them of their true purpose.

The first to be awakened is Bro, a directionless student living in Moscow who joins a scientific expedition to try to find the Tungus meteorite and instead discovers a chunk of primordial ice largely buried in the permafrost; when he slips and falls, hitting his chest on the ice, his heart is awakened and he understands that he is one of the 23,000 rays of light, and that his purpose is to find all the other people who have rays of light trapped inside them and awaken the light so that all 23,000 of them, working together, can destroy the Earth, free themselves from their human bodies and return to space where they will vibrate harmoniously in eternal happiness.

He quickly finds a woman who also has one of the rays of light trapped inside her; he awakens her heart, and she becomes Sister Fer. Together, Fer and Bro found what becomes known as The Brotherhood of the Light, and devote their lives to finding and awakening the hearts of the 23,000.

At this point, as you can probably see for yourself, some logistical problems begin to arise. For starters, how does one identify the specific 23,000 people who currently have rays of celestial light trapped inside them? The good news is that all Brothers and Sisters of the Light have blonde (or at least light-coloured – some turn out to be redheads) hair and blue eyes, so that disqualifies a large segment of the earth’s population right off the bat.

Still, it leaves a lot of potential Brothers and Sisters.

And then, the process of awakening a sleeping heart is rather laborious: each blonde, blue-eyed person must be tied up, stripped to the waist, and then struck repeatedly in the centre of the chest with an ice hammer, which is a piece of wood with a chunk of celestial ice tied to it using the skin of an animal that died a natural death. If the heart of the person struck does contain a ray of celestial light, the heart will awaken and speak its true name; that person then joins the Brotherhood of the Light. If the person is just a normal human, they either fall into unconsciousness or die.

The other issue is one of time. Obviously, it takes a long time to track down the 23,000 true Brothers and Sisters using this chest-hammering technique. And while the rays of celestial light are themselves immortal, their human bodies are not: when a Brother or Sister dies, the celestial ray leaves them and becomes reincarnated in a newborn, who must then be found and hammered by the Brotherhood in order to awaken that particular ray again.

Really it’s exhausting just thinking about it.

Bro and Ice tell the story of the founding and growth of the Brotherhood; in 23,000, a new conflict begins to develop as some regular humans, and particularly blonde, blue-eyed people who have been hammered and found not to contain rays of celestial light (“empties,” as they are called) begin to try to figure out why they were attacked and start investigating the Brotherhood. 23,000 eventually turns into a “race against time” plot that will be familiar to anyone who has ever seen an action film, as Olga and Bjorn, two “empties,” rush to try to stop the final Great Circle in which the Brotherhood will destroy the Earth and regain their true nature as celestial light. At one point, they even attempt to escape from a building using that incredibly trite action movie cliche, the convenient air duct system.

Literary-Critical

The books that make up the Ice TrilogyBro, Ice and 23,000 – were originally published separately in Russia, but this NYRB edition (pictured above) collects them all in one volume. The title character of the first novel, Bro, is born in Russia in 1908, on the day the Tungus meteorite explodes above Siberia, and he lives through much of Russia’s turbulent 20th century. This book on its own is a remarkable portrait of one person’s delusion gradually taking over his life and the lives of people around him – I say “delusion,” but within the context of the novel “enlightenment” would perhaps be a better word, since we are never given an outside perspective on the events of this book. Bro narrates it in the first person, and as the novel proceeds you become more and more enmeshed in his point of view. Bro is what we might call a “cult founder,” not that different from other charismatic lunatics who have managed to win themselves a group of fanatical followers. The fact that large parts of the novel take place during the era of Stalin and Hitler, and that one of the Brotherhood’s techniques is to infiltrate existing power structures, including the Nazi party and the Soviet bureaucracy, offer obvious possibilities for satirical readings, and certainly the way the Brotherhood develops in parallel with these other ideologies is significant.

A similar pattern plays out in the later books: in Ice, which takes place mainly in the 1990s, the Brotherhood seems to have reorganized itself into a mafia-like organization; by the third book, it has become a corporation that manufactures video games, among other things. The rise of the Brotherhood to a position of power and influence in society, and its utter ruthlessness in pursuing its own goals, could be read as a commentary on any ideology or philosophy that uses ends to justify means.

The style of the books also seems to change, in keeping with the time period in which they are set. Bro is told in a very lyrical, elegant style, particularly in the first half or so. As Bro drifts further from humanity, the style becomes stranger, but also weirdly hypnotic: when he starts referring to regular humans as “meat machines,” for example, the initial reaction is one of alienation from his viewpoint; but as he repeats the term “meat machine” over and over, and starts to describe basic human behaviour in terms that would suit a visitor from another solar system, it all becomes weirdly compelling, and you start to feel as if you really are nothing more than a machine made out of meat.

The style of Ice is much choppier, using short declarative sentences and little imagery, and in 23,000 the style shifts again, towards something almost genre-based – by the end it reads like an outline for an action movie. No doubt read in Russian these differences would be more obvious, and perhaps recall particular eras and styles of Russian literature.

At Last, Canada

There are no references to Canada in Bro, but there are several in Ice. The opening sections of this novel follow three characters as they are kidnapped, Ice-hammered and then released by the Brotherhood, and the changes that take place in their lives as they at first try to deny the idea that they are members of the elect, but gradually come to accept it as their destiny. These first three references are not actually to Canada as a country, but rather to Canadian cultural figures.

Borenboim is a Moscow businessman; this scene describes how he is accosted as he comes home, just before he gets Ice-hammered:

Borenboim didn’t move. The butt of a silencer was pressed against his cheek. It smelled of gun oil.
“You didn’t get it? I’ll count to one.”
Borenboim pushed the door with his hand. He entered the dark foyer.
A hand in a brown glove extracted the key from the door. The man followed Borenboim in, immediately closing the door behind them.
“Turn on the light,” he ordered.
Borenboim groped for the wide button of the switch. He pressed it. The lights in the whole five-room apartment lit up at once. Music could be heard: Leonard Cohen’s “Suzanne.”
“On your knees,” said the man, poking the gun between Borenboim’s shoulder blades.  (285-6)

And when Borenboim comes home several days later, after he is released from the Brotherhood clinic that treats people when their hearts have first been awoken by the Ice Hammer:

Borenboim unlocked the door of his apartment. He entered and turned on the light.
The music started up: Leonard Cohen as usual.  (309)

So clearly an appreciation for Leonard Cohen has reached Russia – which isn’t really surprising, as he is probably one of our better-known musicians, and one of the few who has a truly global reputation.

Another character, Lapin, is a young student living in Moscow. After he gets Ice-hammered, he turns to sex and drugs to try to escape the power of the realizations that his awakening heart is forcing on him. In this scene he is at the apartment of a friend who supplies him with heroin, and we find a reference to another Canadian cultural figure, though perhaps not someone we would automatically expect to be popular in Russia:

Lapin and Ilona lay naked in the overfilled tub. Ilona was sitting on Lapin and smoking. His penis was in her vagina. She moved slowly. In a state of semi-oblivion, Lapin opened and closed his eyes.
“But the main thing…is, I mean…He doesn’t understand anything about craft…the actor’s craft…” Ilona mumbled rapidly through dry lips. “Keanu Reeves is fabulous, too, I get off on him because he can do a love scene honestly, but he seems so hot and cool and all…and I really, you know…well I just don’t believe him…not even a smidgen…and I mean what the fuck should I pay money for if I don’t believe the actor, I mean, if there’s no belief…Oy, your balls are so hard!”
She moved sharply. Water splashed over the edge of the bathtub.  (336)

Yes, the reputation of Keanu Reeves extends at least as far as Moscow. I don’t know that we can conclude a lot from this, as both Leonard Cohen and Keanu Reeves have reached their global audiences through the American record industry and through Hollywood movies, respectively; they really represent the global reach of American entertainment, and there’s no reason to think their popularity is in any way connected to their being Canadian. The characters in the novel – and Sorokin himself – may not even be aware that they are Canadian.

A Canadian Woodpecker

By the end of Ice, the Brotherhood has transformed itself into The ICE Corporation. Among other things, they manufacture what seems to be a virtual reality/video game device: users strap it onto their bare chests and put on a helmet, and then a little hammer strikes them repeatedly with a small chunk of ice. An entire section of the novel is devoted to testimonials from users of this device, along the lines of what one might find in an advertising brochure. Essentially, as the hammering goes on, each user remembers a powerful dream from their childhood, begins to cry, and then is overwhelmed by a vision of spreading light.

This is from one of the testimonials:

I remembered how, in my childhood, when I lived in the provinces, a huge woodpecker inhabited a grove near us. No one had ever seen such an enormous woodpecker – neither Father nor the neighbours. Big and black, with white fuzzy claws and a white head. Everyone went to the grove to look at the huge woodpecker. Finally someone said that it was a Canadian woodpecker, that it wasn’t native to any part of Russia. Apparently the bird had flown out of the zoo or someone bought it and didn’t take care of it. He worked like clockwork, tapping incessantly. And so loudly, so resoundingly! I would wake up from his tapping. And I’d run out to watch him. He wasn’t afraid of anyone, he was busy with his own affairs. We got so used to the black woodpecker that we started calling him Stakhanov. And then one of the delinquents from the next street over killed the woodpecker with a stone. And hung him upside down from a tree. I cried so hard. Perhaps it was that very day that I became “green”… And suddenly, remembering the dead woodpecker and staring into the dark, I began to cry.  (459)

What is remarkable about this Canadian woodpecker is, first of all, its size, and the fact that people come to look at it, and that it becomes a sort of neighbourhood celebrity with its own name, seems to suggest that it is much larger than any Russian woodpecker. The idea that Canada is a large country is one we have come across before, so the association of large size with a Canadian bird is not particularly unexpected; it does seem a little strange in Russia, however, which is also a geographically large country.

The second remarkable aspect of this woodpecker is how loud it is: we are told it taps constantly, and loudly enough to wake people up, and perhaps we are meant to infer that its violent death (at the hands of “delinquents”) is the result of people who are fed up with being unable to sleep due to its incessant pecking.  In this the woodpecker seems rather un-Canadian: our reputation for politeness suggests that we are a quiet people who would not want to disturb others, so this offensively loud Canadian woodpecker is a bit of an outlier.

A Random Canadian Empty

There is one further reference to Canada, this time in the final novel, 23,000. Much of this book centres on Olga and Bjorn, two “empties” who, having survived the hammering, have begun to investigate the ICE Corporation to try to find out why they were attacked. They go to China to meet with a man who claims to have information about the ICE Corporation, but they are captured by the Brotherhood and taken to an underground prison factory. Here, “empties” who have come too close to discovering the secrets of the Brotherhood are kept in captivity, butchering the dead dogs whose skin will be used to make the ice hammers. (I don’t make it up, I just report it.)

This reference is to an unnamed Canadian who is among the prisoners with illnesses serious enough that they are taken out of the factory and executed:

Yesterday there had been an obligatory monthly medical checkup, the goal of which was to detect the seriously ill. As a rule, their fate was decided quickly – a few days later the guards would lead them away forever. In the bunker slang this was called “the ascension.” Olga had witnessed three such “ascensions”: an Irishman who had gone mad, a Hungarian woman who had slashed her veins open, and a Canadian with a serious form of asthma.  (652)

This unnamed Canadian is what we might call an “ornamental Canadian.” The idea behind the whole novel is that the 23,000 Brothers and Sisters of the Light are scattered all over the world, but in fact the narrative takes place almost entirely in Russia, with some parts in Germany and China and a little bit in New York. So the reference to the Canadian here is of a piece with the other nationalities referenced in this passage and a few mentions of people in other countries scattered throughout the novel: it is essentially lip service to the idea that Brothers and Sisters can be found anywhere, though in fact almost all the characters are Russian. The Canadian here is cosmetic in the sense that he or she is not an actual character, but is just named by nationality as if to check off a box: yes, the Brotherhood has searched for Brothers and Sisters in Canada as well.

And yet it seems essential that a book titled Ice Trilogy must at least mention of Canada, doesn’t it? I would have been offended if it hadn’t.

And Now, Some Music

Although “Suzanne” is the Leonard Cohen song that’s mentioned in the book, it seems almost trite, somehow, to post it here, since pretty much everyone in the world already knows it. I’ll post a favourite of mine instead, from the same album as “Suzanne”:

And just in case you’re up for a slightly bizarre Leonard Cohen experience, here’s Beck’s Record Club doing a sort of hip-hop-influenced version of “Master Song”:

Here’s the original for comparison:

And since it seems slightly less cliche, here’s a live version of “Suzanne” by Nina Simone – it takes a couple of minutes to really get going, but it’s worth sticking around:

Oh, fine, here’s the original “Suzanne” as well; this is presumably what plays when Borenboim turns on the lights in his apartment:

And that’s enough.

Post Navigation