Words from the editor

Welcome to “An Issue with Seasons: The Metaphor of Weather.” In this
installment of CV2, we look at how weather gives shape to poetry—or perhaps we should say, drives the likes of poets, because in this issue we talk with three fine Canadian poets about the vehicle of metaphor and how climate and elements of the seasons transport them to new vistas of creativity, literary accomplishment, self-discovery, language and, finally, of course, verse.

Inside you will find conversations with seasoned poets Tim Bowling and Hilary Clark, as well as with relative newcomer Chris Hutchinson—all of whom find endless inspiration in the way the seasons move. With each of these poets, you will find a different means of transportation, each unique in what they talk about, although, coincidentally, each has at their core of experience the weather of the west coast. But with their astounding abilities to turn a metaphor, they will certainly capture your attention, no matter what the season.

Tim Bowling is originally from BC and has recently moved back after several years in Edmonton. Hilary Clark grew up in BC but now lives in Saskatchewan, and Chris Hutchinson was born in Montreal but also currently hails from the wet west coast. And while water runs through these pages, there is also the frigid opalescence of snow and the fevered heat of the long prairie summer afternoon, and, of course, the relentless autumn stoke of rain.

What awaits readers in this issue is the uncanny sense of being a passenger on a road trip—one that offers the experience the seasons of the Canadian landscape as viewed through one’s own reflection in a car window.

You will find some spectacular scenery on this trip, which invites a closer look at the miraculous spectacle of weather, not only what it offers in imagery, but also its ability to make us look, in a very visceral way, at the “ordinary” that so many people choose not to see or feel—that our lives are transformed by our surroundings.
It goes without saying that seasonal change is a matter of course for pretty much everyone on the planet, even if those seasons are milder for some than for others, or get mixed up, or are tropical or arctic. There are variations as in music or in the human voice; sometimes a subtle whisper, sometimes over-the-top, heavy-metal winds that make your house shake.

If anyone doubts the impact of weather on the human imagination, one only has to sit quietly in the nearest sumptuously heated/cooled shopping mall to find out how compelling the elements are for most people. The subject of weather is the immediate topic most of us use to connect with each other, even if there is no other obvious commonality with that complete stranger with a myriad of shopping bags who plunks down on the bench next to you—there is always one’s opinion of the weather.

And these days, seasonal extremes are the bread and butter of industries specializing in making bitter weather palatable, even luxurious, separating us from the elements in ways that almost make us forget the rain, snow, or cold that historically forced people to pay close attention to the sky’s movements.

But while it has become possible through the miracle of technology, at least in North America, to enjoy a somewhat continuous respite from the bite of cold or rain or whatever nastiness nature brews up for us, it is never possible to completely avoid the more dangerous tantrums of the seasons. Even in this day and age, few means exist to protect human life against the sudden and deadly fury of tornados, hurricanes, blizzards, and ice storms. Nor is it possible, even in the best-insulated, most spectacularly lit home, to go unscathed by weeks of continuous dark and glowering heavens.

Essentially, we can take the human out of nature, but we can’t take the nature out of human. Nature in the wild mirrors human nature, which we all know is not predictable in the extreme and the potential for violence real. Perhaps that’s why people all over North America not only daily watch the weather to find out what to expect, but millions pay money to have all the weather all the time with weather channel subscriptions. But the hypnotic lure of television aside, it is true that if something makes us uncomfortable, we want to make it go away in the most expedient way possible—and on this, western economies thrive.

I found it interesting that in his interview, Tim Bowling refers to poetry as “entertainment” a description many would be loath to apply to either bad weather or poetry. But he does have a point; those of us who love to read poetry find a good measure of “entertainment” in the activity, while those who don’t see it as about as interesting as watching snow fall or paint dry. Tim also mentions the fact that poetry is a “challenge” to read. And while this is true for many popular pastimes—music, sports, or video games, movies and say novels, all of these activities have a certain challenge implicit in them—there tends to be a more tangible sense of enjoyment, more physical—perhaps immediate impact, we can count on from poetry.

Yeah, and, like, who would want to watch rain instead of CSI? It is, I think, a good question, but one that few would really take the time to consider seriously even though in a way, poetry is watching the rain, and getting something out of it—engagement—entertainment what ever you might call it.

We live in a mega-paced world and we are only now beginning to fully comprehend the full impact of the velocity in which we currently live—for example current studies show the sedentary activities of television and video games coupled with fast food has vastly increased obesity rates of children and comprised their future physical health. Another recent study points at the possibility that increased exposure to artificial light and lack of night time sleep which results in decreased production of a hormone, melatonin, in women may be a cause of breast cancer. Of course there is also the wildly erratic weather that has become the norm in the past few years. It seems that unchecked haste has the very real potential of lying waste to our lives in so many ways. Escalation has become the norm, and what it teaches us is to look ahead. The challenge then becomes to slow down and value what we have, it makes sense then that so many would be impatient with poetry, in sense poetry is a metaphor for what so many resist, the absence of distraction.

Now I am realistic I don’t believe poetry is for everyone, but the impatience for progress, I would suggest, has also impaired our collective understanding about how language works, leading to misunderstanding about the importance of complex parts of speech such as metaphor. As far back as Aristotle there were those who sought to create expedient categories of language, dividing it into useful and arbitrary, and therefore unnecessary usage. Metaphor it was decided was a part of speech that fell into the artistic and therefore what I would call luxury language, not useful in every day usage, while literal, which was thought to be completely devoid of metaphor, was the practical and real language of communication. Now one can take this a step further to explain in part the problems that contribute to popular acceptance of poetry. If poetic language is artfully complex, then it is in a sense made up for the sake of made up, and could be seen as irrelevant to everyday life.

But according to more recent linguistic research beginning in the late 1970’s, metaphor is intrinsic to communication, a way of speaking that has existed for thousands of years—relative to the ability to think and physically respond to our environment, in both human and natural contexts—perhaps why it was one of the first forms of literature. In fact many modern language specialists define metaphors as a means for human communication maps to it self, providing a way for deeper understanding that is not always immediately present in the actual words. (A reference to "The Conduit Metaphor", a paper by Michael Reddy as explained by George Lakoff in his article “The Contemporary Theory of Metaphor”, 1992.)

The historical dichotomy of language into practical or literal and artistic or literary continues to have a profound effect on how we see language today. And it does make sense, especially in a country like Canada, with strong pioneer roots, that a language that would reinforce a strong no-nonsense work ethic would be valued over one that emphasized what seemed arbitrarily complex and indirect communication. However, now we understand that common English abounds in metaphor, and while there are metaphors that transport ordinary speech, and metaphors that are predominantly considered literary, it provides us with the sense of poetry as a means for more profound observation not only of ourselves but a better understanding of the interconnection of nature all the way down the food chain.

Metaphors according to these scientists exist to galvanize all organic faculties—mind, emotions, and senses, in the process of communicating internal as well as external experience—possibly. Without metaphor, if all that is real is tangible, resolvable with “practical solutions,” we would live in a restricted world. An example, courtesy of TV, is that a body needs a “real,” not to mention expensive Sport Utility Vehicle, to get to the “real” outdoors. In the “real” outdoors, you experience authentic nature and your sojourn becomes a genuine escape from the hectic pace of the virtual world. Of course, the levels of metaphor are intrinsic even in this “literal” equation: SUV + money (to buy gas) = complete happiness.

And, just so you don’t think I have driven over some edge of reason, the word “metaphor” originally derives from the Greek: metaphora, “a transfer,” especially of the sense of one word to a different word, lit. “a carrying over,” from metapherein, “transfer, carry over,” from meta-, “over, across,” (meta-) + pherein, “to carry, bear.”
I find it even more fascinating that in Modern Greek, metaphor, or metaphora, actually means carriage, freightage, conveyance, traction, traffic, transfer, portage, transference, transport, transportation, truckage.
So I was thinking this could be Toyota’s next big seller—the sleek new Metaphor—you have to see to believe it, or something like that. Kidding aside, if we are talking about transport, we could talk about the role of poet as transporter, because poetry is not only metaphor, it is a way of talking about the world that hinges on the use of this figure of speech. The New Oxford Paperback Dictionary gives as a modern example of metaphor: “food for thought.”

And speaking of consumables, I will return to the virtual feast we have in store for you, our readers, in this issue. In the pages that follow, CV2 talks to our feature poets about the impact of weather on their writing—how where they grew up continues to influence their use of certain seasonal metaphors and how the weather affects their day-to-day creative process—how their own experiences and observations filter through their experience of climate, coming to fruition in poetry. Tim Bowling, the winner of many prizes for his poetry and a two-time nominee for the Governor General’s Award for Poetry, talks about his newest book, The Memory Orchard, and about the impact on his work of the fishing culture he grew up with in his hometown of Ladner, BC, as well as weathering a life of poetry and a new family, and his move back to the coast after several years in Alberta. And, of course, we discuss the metaphor of rain, which appears frequently in his work. Award-winning Hilary Clark talks about her most recent poetic offering, The Dwelling of Weather, and about the double entendre of fashioning a shelter out of weather and the way poetry “dwells” in her imagination. We also discuss her ability to create stunning lines, one growing upon the next, and the garden of verse her books proffer to her readers. Chris Hutchinson describes the influence of the elements on the creation of his first book, Unfamiliar Weather, not to mention his experience of weathering first publication. Each of these poets offers a different forecast on the unpredictability of poetry, the experience of living it and writing it. And, as usual, CV2 brings you selections from other fine poets from across this fine land.

I will end with a note about our new French section, which, you will notice, is again absent from our pages. It is unfortunate, but after the flurry of interest in response to our initial promotion of this new project, submissions have been very few. This has been complicated by increased risk of plagiarism with submissions sent through e-mail. We have decided to delay our next feature of French poetry until our fall issue, “In Translation.” In the meantime, French editors Nina Berkhout and Laurent Poloquin are mounting a promotional campaign to beat all promotional campaigns to encourage more poets who create in French to send us their material. Also, watch for tangible evidence of CV2’s new program in the design of the cover and inside upcoming issues as we work toward making this magazine truly representational of Canada’s finest English and French poets.

Don’t forget our next issue is "Demons"—one of my favourite things to talk about. So until then, mind your metaphors!
All the best in words,
Clarise Foster, Managing Editor, CV2