I started writing Chores around 2014, and there were many times I felt like I would never get it “done,” whatever that means.
Throughout the writing process, whenever I needed a boost, a reminder of why I wanted to write poetry in the first place, I turned to my bookshelf and grabbed one of my favourite collections.
Here are eight books by Canadian poets that I hold dear.
**
Whylah Falls, by George Elliott Clarke
I appreciate Whylah Falls for many reasons—it’s beautiful in a unique way that left a significant imprint on my brain, years after reading. I feel like I have sensory memories of the poem, the way the “sunflower-open river” feels on my skin, the pain of a fish hook in my cheek. Family, community, and intimate relationships are brought to life in a mind-altering way. I didn’t look at my relationships the same after reading it, and I wanted to keep getting to know the character Clarke painted in the book. Its musicality and variety are other aspects that I really appreciate, with so many of the characters’ experiences represented through unusual forms, from songs to recipes.
*
The Road In Is Not The Same Road Out, by Karen Solie
This collection is my favourite book of poetry, and “Bitumen” is my favourite poem therein, a poem that situates itself in the oil rigs off Newfoundland right off the bat. For me, her writing is less about the words themselves and more about trying to bring out the music of each line. I always get a sense that Solie loves the act of writing, which I think contributes to how happy I feel after finishing one of her books, even though the subject matter can be harrowing. Through the detail in The Road I feel at once frightened of the vastness and alien-ness of the landscapes, and comforted in the familiarity of each image, as if perhaps Solie were sometimes a fly on the wall in my own home.
*
The Grey Islands, by John Steffler
I love the lyricism, precision, and humour in The Grey Islands, but most of all I am drawn to it for the low pedal tone running beneath all his observations: what will happen to the man’s family when he comes back to them? There is a lot of unease in the journey undertaken through the book, which challenges you to look at terror and beauty as sometimes being two sides of the same coin. Steffler drags the reader in and holds them close until releasing you with the final lines.
*
In the Old Country of My Heart, by Agnes Walsh
The timeless, romantic, and melodic Old Country poems first came to me while riding a Metrobus when I was a university student, her poem about Percy Janes and the bus was excerpted in the overhead ads. I love the subtle body horror in this collection—a sweater pinned to a woman’s neck but her arms are missing; a tongue dipped in ink, leaking iambics all the day long—is there a better image of a poet than that? I pick up this book often and read a few poems. They ground me and make me remember what it feels like to have both a body and a soul.
*
Angular Unconformity, by Don McKay
I was at a rehearsal with a colleague and I mentioned something about poetry and how I was getting more seriously into writing, and they recommended I check out Don McKay. I went out and bought Angular Unconformity that same day and couldn’t put it down. The poems spoke to me on a deep level and quickly became some of my favourites. McKay is the IRL version of a rabbit hole of poetry research, the kind that keeps you asking one more question, then another, until you understand what it might feel like to be a physical non-living thing, such as a rock, or the earth itself. My dad studied geophysics so I love the rock content. But mostly I read McKay so as to feel the satisfaction of his perfect cadences, to remember the pleasure of the interrogative mood, and to hear the song of the song of a bird.
*
The Brief Reincarnation of a Girl, by Sue Goyette
This is one of the hardest books of poetry I’ve ever read. I remember squirreling myself away in a room in Nova Scotia on a family vacation with this book to read, but failing as it made me so sad. As other parents may be able to relate to, I struggle consuming any literature that has to do with the suffering of a child. If you’re like me, I’d encourage you to make an exception for this collection, as Goyette brings to life the senselessness of the treatment of the titular girl beautifully through the form and dark magic of the images. The Bear is such a good character as well, helping the reader find hope and meaning despite the tragedy.
*
The Time of Icicles, by Mary Dalton
The Time of Icicles describes my beloved Newfoundland with such lyricism and melancholy that it instantly soothes me and reminds me of the depth of the love I hold for my home. Whenever I get the feeling, like many other islanders do, that perhaps I should up and leave this place, Mary Dalton’s voice tells me to go even closer to home instead and find myself again in Conception Bay.
*
Half Rock, by Robin Durnford
Half Rock is written in a voice that makes me homesick without even having to leave my home. I love this collection because of the sense of place and the sense of self within said place. We often say things like, you can take the man out of the bay, but you can’t take the bay out of the man. Robin’s book seems to question this wisdom, in poems such as “Death of a Fisherman”—can you even take the man out of the water in the end? Her poems are chock-full of carefully conjured-up images of Newfoundland culture that anyone reading it will better know what it’s like to live here.
*
This semi-autobiographical collection of poetry offers an historical snapshot of domestic life that views women’s labour, relationships, and sexuality through a feminist lens.
Chores is about families and the domestic work of settler women on the island of Newfoundland. A comedy and a tragedy in equal parts, Chores explores everyday life with all its pleasures and suffering.
The simple, indirect, and accessible language of Chores creates vivid, recurring images of food, household objects, body parts, and animals. The poems scrutinize the physical and social details of domestic labour and of the conditions in which women did, and continue to do, the work of sustaining life.