Allmark-Kent 43
Knowing Other Animals
So far I have argued that whilst there is general agreement that
“Canadians are fascinated by animals,” (McGregor 192) and that “animals
abound in canonical [Canadian] works” (Fiamengo 5), there has been no
consensus about
how
or
why
. As I have shown, the combined theories
of Polk
and Atwood are insufficient, yet surprisingly no real alternatives have been
offered. I propose here that a solution may well lie in this very inability to answer
the question. In her review of Steve Baker’s
The Postmodern Animal
(2000),
Susan Fisher responds to the postmodern troubling of the animal-human divide
and its resulting ambivalence by suggesting (perhaps with pride?) that it is not
necessarily a new phenomenon
: “Canadians, of course, have always been
confused by the animals among us
—are they victims, friends, predator, prey?”
(259).
I believe that Fisher’s remark can be used to help us to understand both
the abundance of ‘fascinating’ animals in Canadian literature and the inability of
literary criticism to explain this presence, but her words must first be expanded
upon for a more nuanced understanding.
First, we need to consider
the sense of
proximity
in her words. The
foreword and introduction to Tina Loo’s
States of Nature: Conserving Canada’s
Wildlife in the Twentieth Century
(2006) demonstrates that
Canada’s
‘wilderness’ and ‘wild animals’ cannot be constrained physically or
imaginatively; the wild is
not ‘out there,’ it is “
among
us”. Graeme Wynn opens
his foreword, aptly titled “Troubles with Nature,” by considering a recent incident
in which a coyo
te was “seen loping, in the middle of the day, through an old
established residential area in Vancouver” (xi). Predictably, the presence of this
wild animal
—“an intruder, a wild thing that did not belong [...]
Its
place was far
away” (xi, emphasis original)—unsettles notions of human and animal spaces,
Allmark-Kent 44
natural and unnatural environments, ‘wild’ and ‘domestic(ated)’. Indeed, he
explains that coyotes “have been fairly common in the city of Vancouver since
the 1980s,” and bears “sometimes wander from the forests of the North Shore
mountains
into the wealthy hill-
slope suburbs of West Vancouver,” and to the
“delight of camera-toting tourists, deer wander the streets of Banff” (xi, xii, xx).
The imaginative construction of human spaces as safely enclosed and separate
from nature trigger
s surprise and confusion when the ‘incongruous’ proximity of
‘the wild’ is suddenly felt. Yet curiously at other times, we choose to impose an
exaggerated sense of its proximity, as L
oo’s introduction demonstrates.
Living in
Vancouver, “surrounded by tall buildings,” she notes the irony
that postcards do not reflect the reality of the city:
Instead of buildings, most feature the word ‘Vancouver’ or ‘Canada’
emblazoned over photographs of Stanley Park and the North Shore
mountains, and more incongruously, over portraits of moose, marmot,
and beaver
—creatures which, despite the city’s
considerable diversity,
are hardly common sights on the streets. (1)
Evidently the
legacy of ‘imperial eyes’ continue to shape perceptions of Canada
and the belief that what is unique to the country is not people or culture but the
natural environment
—its wild animals, its abundant resources, its aesthetic
beauty. Loo suggests that such postcards are no doubt found in every
Canadian city because images of Canada are almost always synonymous with
images of ‘wildness’:
Wildlife has been emblematic of the country from the days
of the fur
trade, when beaver pelts were a medium of exchange, to the present,
when the ‘proud and noble creature’ sells Molson Canadian beer,
emblazons
Roots clothing, and can be found burrowed in every pocket
and change purse, adorning the country’s coins, along with the caribou,
loon, and polar bear. The extent to which wildlife is common currency in
Canada is one manifestation of the central place that
nature
, and
Dostları ilə paylaş: