A View on: The Management of Grief

After reading The Management of Grief by Bharati Mukherjee, it is interesting to explore the thoughts and perspectives of characters other than the main protagonist Shaila. The following presents a scene from the view of Judith Templeton, as she comes to speak to Shaila for the first time.

Nervously, my fingers massage the keypad of my cell-phone, my thumb rolling over the gently protruding bumps of various digits as I prepare myself to dial. What will she say when she answers me? She’ll answer in Hindi, won’t she?

As my thumb stamps the third digit in the daunting telephone number scribbled on the back of my notebook, I hear a voice. Back when I was in your position my boss would say “Don’t mess this up!” In this ‘correct’ world I’m not sure what they’d say. Then a low, rolling chuckle, followed by a stern grunt. I hear my boss’ voice continue inside me, This may be the only way and I’m sure you are aware.

“Namaste?” My heart begins to beat faster as I am attacked with questions. Do I answer in Hindi? I can say hello in Hindi too. But then- I would make a fool of myself. No- shouldn’t I demonstrate cultural awareness? As I hear her prepare to ask again, I nervously respond “Hello. I’m- I’m Judith Templeton. And- um and… I will be coming by your home shortly.”

“Multiculturalism?” she asks in a thick Indian accent.
“Um.. well” I begin, confused. “Are you representing multiculturalism for Canada?”
“Partially,” I respond. I didn’t want to lie or, alternatively, insult her. What do I know about India? What do I know about her? Why am I even being sent to talk to her? “My mandate includes other factors as well. You see, I was wondering if there was anything you needed.” Almost rudely, she fires an abrupt no and hangs up. Lost, I wonder if her mannerism is a part of her culture.

Adjusting my hair, I realize that I am not nervous- but angry. Angry at them. My colleagues constantly blaming every smallest grunt, gesture and tear on culture, I begin to explore the possibility that these people are unsupportable or impolite. A culture doesn’t impose on old couples to grieve or cry without end, or on women to be stubborn and refuse our aid. As expected, I begin to feel an overwhelming guilt. Again- What do I know about India?

The taxi driver stops the car gently and dictates “20 dollar please, you here.” Paying the long bearded Sikh man, my heart begins to pound again. Knocking on the front door, I discovered it is unlocked- as it creeks open, screeching loudly. I hear her say “Come in please, I will make tea.”

I am impressed by her calmness, her maturity and knowledge. Soon, she will serve me tea and ineptly, I will explain to her why we need her assistance. I take a look back at the departing taxi, and remember my conversation with her. If she refuses to assist, is this yet another element of their culture? Returning to my surroundings, I adjust my blouse and step inside.

-D. Mitropolsky

A Response to.. Alice Munro’s ­An Ounce of Cure

The short story An Ounce of Cure by Alice Munro is a thought provoking piece of writing. The title “An Ounce of Cure” itself is a unique and quirky element of Munro’s prose. The title has a strong relationship with the expression “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure”- theorizing the importance of preventing a problem rather than solving it after it has begun. Heartbroken by her crush Martin Collingwood’s romantic performance with Ms. Bennet in a production of Pride and Prejudice, she finds herself getting drunk and being lead into a series of unfortunate, embarrassing situations. Despite having brought her humiliation and discomfiture, the starkness and reality of these events act as an unintentional realization and cure of her depression. Moreover, an Ounce of cure may to the small shots, or ounces, of hard liquor she consumed when getting drunk- leading to a series of circumstances that had, apart from serving as a psychological cure- also offered prevention.
The theme is explored through the thoughts of the narrating main character resolving a problem through a realization that continues to serve as prevention for future depressions and dilemmas. Munro’s prose can be interpreted as a combat to the stereotype imposed by the adage, or a moving exploration of human emotion.
-Daniel Mitropolsky

Response to Happy Endings by M. Atwood

A Response to... Margaret Atwood’s Happy Endings

After reading Margaret Atwood’s Happy Endings, I was clouded with the multitude of messages. Some messages, more apparent than others, include the criticism of authors and the focus pursued in much modern prose. Personally, I feel that Atwood’s statement “The only authentic ending is the one provided here- John and Mary die. John and Mary die. John and Mary die” is effective. Atwood concludes that in a mortal world, it is the author’s creativity in elements other than the plot, which always ends the same, that can distinguish a written piece.

Moreover, Atwood criticizes the satire of the role of women in writing. Through different plot scenarios, she portrays women as figures who sacrifice themselves for men; either in pity or in lust. Women are described as individuals without a decision making ability that are automatically seduced and controlled by men. Doing so, Atwood proves that literature often falsely and scornfully interprets women. Overall, the story is communicating that an exaggerated focus on plot can spoil literature, which should focus on character development. The short story ‘options’ in Happy Endings are satirical and humorous, rendering Atwood’s Happy Endings as a meaningful and enjoyable argumentative statement.

-Daniel Mitropolsky

Solitude
Lampman, Archibald (1861-1899)

How still it is here in the woods. The trees
Stand motionless, as if they did not dare
To stir, lest it should break the spell. The air
Hangs quiet as spaces in a marble frieze.
Even this little brook, that runs at ease,
Whispering and gurgling in its knotted bed,
Seems but to deepen, with its curling thread
Of sound, the shadowy sun-pierced silences.
Sometimes a hawk screams or a woodpecker
Startles the stillness from its fixèd mood
With his loud careless tap. Sometimes I hear
The dreamy white-throat from some far off tree
Pipe slowly on the listening solitude,
His five pure notes succeeding pensively.


Response to Solitude:
Archibald Lampman’s poem Solitude is a sensory exploration of a natural environment. Personally, I relate his visual connotations to a poem about the Canadian outdoors due to the inclusion of natural certain elements including woodpeckers and white-throats. Lampman uses a plethora of poetic devices in order to enhance the reader’s experience. For example, personification can be observed in the phrase “The trees…did not dare to stir”. As Lampman applies human actions to nonhuman elements of his natural depictions, the poem becomes more relatable and interpretable to readers. Throughout the beginning and middle of the poem, Lampman describes the stillness, serenity and beauty of a forest scene. Towards the end, however, he introduces the personal pronoun “I”, creating an effect in which the reader is placed directly into the environment. Furthemore, the introduction of a person into the poem further emphasizes the separation between humanity and nature, re-affirming the appropriateness of “Solitude” as the title. Although the poem is based on visionary elements, Lampman includes several auditory elements as he describes the screams of hawks, tapping of woodpeckers, and gurgling of the stream., I enjoy Lampan’s descriptive prose as it transition the reader into the peace and tranquility offered by the picturesque cove explored in Solitude.

A Different Side of the lake - Campbell Parsons
As the wind brushed my cold cheeks
And as the snow crunches by each step I take
I feel something different
The Canadian winter is incredible
I have walked there in the summer
But on these cold days the lake shore feels different
Although the winter looks calm the creatures of the forest are still near by
The rabbit’s foot steps are lying in the light powder on the beach.
I feel something different
The forest still feels warm to me
As I walk along the beach I breathe in the fresh air
I feel the cold as the snowflakes fall upon my hair
I can only imagine the warmth of the hot chocolate I will drink later
But for now ill bask in natures great changesI feel something different
I winter is such a different placeI could stay there forever



Campbell Parson’s ‘A Different Side of the lake’ is sensually powerful poem depicting the Canadian winter. Clearly, the author has an acute sense of poetic communication. I personally enjoy the comparison of the Canadian summer and winter. Among the plethora of Canadian themes, I have always personally viewed ‘seasonal variation’ as fundamental. Although Campbell stress of visual description can be ascertained, he has extensively described feeling and sound as well. Having experienced this atmosphere, I am able to relate to the poem, and it’s acutely accurate sensory depiction brings me right to the chilly shore of a wintery lake. To me, the strongest images are those in which Campbell ‘imagines’ and ‘remembers’ warmth and security. When in this cold environment, one cannot help to hope for the sun, a warm drink and the indoors. I feel as though more effort should have been applied to writing a poem with a meter or rhyme scheme. Despite one’s natural repulsion from the bitter, hostile climate, the location’s natural beauty overpowers, leaving the visitor with a positive impression. Especially poetically, this phenomenon is difficult to communicate, but Campbell is effective in doing so.
-Daniel Mitropolsky

Fading Horizon

Fading Horizon is an Outdoor Sensory Experience poem, reflecting on the experiences of one's senses in the Canadian outdoors. Fading Horizon is a poem of four classical Haikus. Classical Haikus feature a 5, 7 and 5 syllable pattern, cannot rhyme, and should use second person pronouns and never first-person pronouns.

Fading Horizon is set in Canadian winter.

Fading Horizon
Wintery sky melts into lake
From which bare oaks rise!

Gliding, calling geese
Snowflakes cloaking rabbit tracks
Waiting for the sun

Her stinging embrace
Chokes, chars your throat breath by breath
Loss of consciousness

Stark arctic beauty
Placid crunching of the snow-
Is a symphony

Stung by potent air,
Painful summer memories
Isolating you

And just for fun...

Aliens invade
They vaporized my uncle
Now they come for me

Erasing my footprints

A Villanelle capturing the struggle, revelation, survival and fate of an early Canadian explorer.

I feel death’s cold white mask before my face
We venture onward with forgotten cause
The blizzard wind my footprints will erase

I race a mocking deer at her light pace
For rest would be the end and not a pause
I feel death’s cold white mask before my face

Her majesty- though last, I bring disgrace
For whom do I explore and reap applause?
The blizzard wind my footprints will erase

Having come so far I must embrace
The moose’s death to feed a crowd of jaws
I feel death’s cold white mask before my face

Surviving- on a scroll my route I trace
For every wolf and black bear; and because
The blizzard wind my footprints will erase


As bleeding icicles my limbs replace
With honour I shall let her win the clause

I feel death’s cold white mask before my face-
The blizzard wind my footprints will erase!