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Nature Environmental Conservation & Protection

Beyond the Park: An Anthology of Ecological Experiences

An Anthology of Ecological Experiences

associate editor Angel Mota

prologue by Jenna Butler

by (author) Diego Creimer, Antonio D'Alfonso, Marie-Denise Douyon, Danielle Gouthrie, Hugh Hazelton, Barbara Janusz, Kelly Kaur, Dafne Romero, Cora Siré & Elvira Truglia

Publisher
Laberinto Press
Initial publish date
Oct 2023
Category
Environmental Conservation & Protection, Canadian
Recommended Reading age
15 to 18
  • Paperback / softback

    ISBN
    9781777085957
    Publish Date
    Oct 2023
    List Price
    $25.00

Classroom Resources

Where to buy it

Description

*There are more immigrant voices added daily to our conversation on the environment and climate change in this country, and yet, there are lots more to add. Editor Angel Mota has expertly curated each of the pieces in this anthology, into a compelling whole about the authors’ connection to natural spaces through olfactory experiences. Most of the contributors of Beyond the Park are immigrant settlers, with their own mother tongues, embracing either English or French, depending on where they settled.

The untranslated pieces, writt en in English or French, Canada’s two official languages, complicate the cultural and linguistic idea of the “Two Solitudes.”

Our community partners at the Art Gallery of Alberta invited children aged 4 to 7 years old to submit a piece of art on the subject of “The Park.” The winning entry, a sparkling collage of shapes in green and yellow suns and trees by Dominic Godbout, age six, an ardent Edmonton Oilers fan, served as the inspiration for our designer Cecilia Salcedo to give this anthology its bold cover design. The original work, inside the pages of this anthology, carries our spirit of collaboration, hope for the future, and inclusion throughout.

*Please see below for the updated Spring 2024 UTP Specials terms: UTP Frontlist Special Special: 50+ frontlist titles Discount: 45% Code: 1FRN Conditions: One order per code. Ends March 30th, 2024. Combinable across all Ampersand’s participating UTP publishers. UTP Backlist Special Special: 50+ backlist titles Discount: 47% Code: BAC6 Conditions: One order per code. Ends December 31st, 2023. Combinable across all Ampersand’s participating UTP publishers. Special: 50+ backlist titles Discount: 47% Code: BAC7 Conditions: One order per code. Starts January 1st, 2024. Ends December 31st, 2024. Combinable across all Ampersand’s participating UTP publishers.

About the authors

Angel Mota's profile page

Jenna Butler is the author of three critically acclaimed books of poetry, Seldom Seen Road (NeWest Press, 2013), Wells (University of Alberta Press, 2012) and Aphelion (NeWest Press, 2010); an award-winning collection of ecological essays, A Profession of Hope: Farming on the Edge the of Grizzly Trail (Wolsak and Wynn, 2015); and a poetic travelogue, Magnetic North: Sea Voyage to Svalbard (University of Alberta Press, 2018).

Butler's research into endangered environments has taken her from America's Deep South to Ireland's Ring of Kerry, and from volcanic Tenerife to the Arctic Circle onboard an ice-class masted sailing vessel, exploring the ways in which we impact the landscapes we call home. A professor of creative writing and environmental writing at Red Deer College, she lives with seven resident moose and a den of coyotes on an off-grid organic farm in Alberta's North Country.

Jenna Butler's profile page

Diego Creimer's profile page

Antonio D'Alfonso was born in Montreal. He studied at Loyola College from 1970 to 1975, where he got his B.A. in Communication Arts. Later on he went to Université de Montréal to complete his Master's Science Degree in Communication Studies, specializing in Semiology; his thesis was on Mouchette, a film by Robert Bresson. In 1978 he founded Guernica Editions, where he edited over 450 books by authors from around the world. In 1982 along with three other writers, he founds the trilingual magazine, Vice Versa. In 1986, along with three other writers, he founded the Association of Italian-Canadian writers. He has taught at Université of Montréal, Continuing Studies at University of Toronto, University of Californa, in San Diego. He is presently a writer in residence at McGill University (French language and literature department).

Antonio D'Alfonso's profile page

Marie-Denise Douyon's profile page

Danielle Gouthrie's profile page

Hugh Hazelton is a Montreal writer and translator who specializes in the comparison of Canadian and Quebec literatures with those of Latin America. He has written four books of poetry and translates from Spanish, French and Portuguese into English; his translation of Vétiver, a book of poems by Joël Des Rosiers, won the Governor General’s Literary Award for French-English translation in 2006. He is a professor emeritus of Spanish at Concordia University in Montreal and former co-director of the Banff International Literary Translation Centre. In 2016 he won the Linda Gaboriau Award for his work on behalf of literary translation in Canada.

Hugh Hazelton's profile page

Barbara D. Janusz is a mother, an environmentalist, a lawyer, poet and an educator. A graduate from the University of Alberta, she holds degrees in Political Science and Law, has practiced law and taught law and management at SAIT Polytechnique and Mount Royal University in Calgary, Alberta. Born and raised in Edmonton, Alberta she has also lived on the west coast of British Columbia, in Paris, France, and in La Paz, BCS, Mexico. A feminist and environmentalist, she is a contributing writer for EnviroLine, the business publication for the environmental industry and has published poetry, short stories, editorials, and essays in Fast Forward, Our Times, House of Blue Skies, Pages of Stories, WestWord, WildLands Advocate, Calgary Outdoor Magazine, Forum, Tower Poetry Society Press and other magazines, literary journals, newspapers and anthologies across Canada. Barbara Janusz lives in Crowsnest Pass, Alberta with her partner, Garry and son, Olek. Mirrored in the Caves is her first novel.

Barbara Janusz's profile page

Kelly grew up in Singapore, came to Calgary to get her degrees at the University of Calgary, and stayed longer than she thought she would. Universities appear to be her playground; as a university educator today, she must have taught over 10,000 students and graded over 60,000 essays. To take a break from marking, she decided to write her own novel. Kelly lives in Calgary, Alberta.

Kelly Kaur's profile page

Dafne Romero's profile page

Cora Siré lives in Montréal where she writes fiction, essays and poetry. She is the author of two novels, Behold Things Beautiful (Signature Editions, 2016), The Other Oscar (Quattro Books, 2016) and Signs of Subversive Innocents (Signature Editions, 2014), a collection of poetry. Her work has been shortlisted for various literary prizes. Born in Canada, she often writes of elsewheres, drawing on her encounters in faraway places as well as her family’s history of displacement.

 

Cora Siré's profile page

Elvira Truglia's profile page

Excerpt: Beyond the Park: An Anthology of Ecological Experiences: An Anthology of Ecological Experiences (associate editor Angel Mota; prologue by Jenna Butler; by (author) Diego Creimer, Antonio D'Alfonso, Marie-Denise Douyon, Danielle Gouthrie, Hugh Hazelton, Barbara Janusz, Kelly Kaur, Dafne Romero, Cora Siré & Elvira Truglia)

The Tree Whisperer, by Kelly Kaur:

Monday, 19 October 2022 Singapore

It is 2 p.m., the muggiest point of the day. I cannot bear the thought of trudging to the bus stop on the other side of the road in this overwhelming Singapore humidity. Every pore of my body struggles to acclimatize to my vacation. I look longingly at the taxi stand: Oh, I am second in line. Who cares what it costs, right? Guiltily, I jump into the backseat, sink back, and feel the cool air conditioner slowly revive my sanity. I barely hear the faint whisper of the driver repeating my home address as he gently veers his vehicle into the busy street. The trace of sickly sweet, perfumy fake pine from the cheap dispenser dangling over the front mirror suspends in midair. The aroma makes me homesick for Calgary. “Excuse me. Excuse me.” I lean forward to catch the soft murmur of the taxi driver. He points to his windshield. “Do you see any wind outside?” I shake my head, puzzled. The man keeps pointing, “Look in front. Look to the right. No wind, right?” “No, no wind,” I answer. I am perplexed. The Chinese taxi driver, a small man huddled over his steering wheel, probably in his sixties, raises his voice. Now, he points out the right window of the moving car. “Look. Look. Look at the trees. Do you see the branches moving?” “No… no… the branches are not moving,” my voice trails off in curiosity. “Now look at the leaves at the tops of the trees. See? The leaves are moving but the branches are not.” My eyes wander to the top of the giant trees that dot the road. The leaves ARE fluttering. Weird. The taxi driver lifts his left hand from the steering wheel, and his five fingers mimic the movement of the dancing leaves. “You see, right? No wind. No breeze. But the leaves at the top of the trees are moving.” Again, his fingers flutter. My eyes move from the trees outside on the sides of the road to his swaying fingers. I am not sure what is happening at all. The car turns left at the traffic lights; now, the man points to the coconut and palm trees in front of some blocks of private low-rise condos. My inquisitive eyes follow his hypnotic gestures. “Ok. Now, look at that. Can you see? Look at the long leaves of the palm trees. The movement is different. Each leaf, ah, move like this—one, two, three, four.” This time, his fingers flap up and down straightly, one at a time, like the fronds of the palm trees outside. “I’ll tell you why, ok? Even when there is no wind, the leaves are moving to get water and energy. The trees are full of energy. Can you see? Feel it. Smell it. The leaves are moving all the time and looking for water. Getting water from the ground. Getting water from the air. Large breathing trees. Human. Alive. No wind also no problem. Still alive.” At this stage, I’m spellbound. The taxi driver has my full attention. I gawk at the leaves on trees and bushes outside. I gape at the coconut trees and the palm trees as the taxi whizzes by the landscape. The line of trees never ever ends. I’ve never noticed them in such detail. Trees. Green. Bushes. Plants. Flowers. Buildings. Roads. That’s just Singapore. The flash of concrete, machines, and nature. Always patiently there, like an unlikely juxtaposition. Yet a beautiful harmony. Now, I can’t take my eyes off nature’s green moving scene. I always knew that the Singapore trees were there, all my life. This man’s soft, gentle voice is soothing. I’m mesmerized: these trees and plants, their life, their movement, their energy. “You know, if you go to other countries, you do not see so many trees. When you go to Kuala Lumpur, you feel tired because there are not too many trees around you on the streets. Then, you come back to Singapore, and you feel so much energy all around you. Look, look there now. See the leaves still moving, moving, dancing,” then he chuckles. “You know what? I told this 90-year-old Chinese man in my taxi about the dancing leaves this morning. He was so surprised. He told me he never noticed the leaves moving that much. He said he’s 90 years old, and this was the first time he was hearing about them. He said from now on, he will look for the magic leaves every day.” The taxi driver’s face lit up with ardent joy. “Can you smell the trees and flowers?” I leant forward and asked. I was completely sucked in by his enthusiasm. “Of course, lah. They smell so good. Even though the longkang, you know, the drain, or the dustbin around the blocks stinks, you just smell the trees and flowers. You know, at night, I sleep on the balcony outside under the trees. I look at the sky and stars and moon. I can hear the noisy buses and cars. I close my eyes. I smell the sweet perfume of the Singapore air. I feel like I am out in a wild forest. Not concrete jungle.” He chuckles quietly and continues, “Singapore got so many buildings. No space, lah. But the government was smart when they planted trees and bushes and flowers from a long time ago. Not cheap, you know. Each tree is over a thousand dollars. So, when you look around and see buildings, bricks, stone and concrete, you still feel like in a wonderful garden.” I nod silently, in total agreement with my fellow Singaporean who had aptly described how our government had wisely planted beautiful greenery amidst all the buildings. No cost, indeed, had been spared, and the result was an oasis of unexpected gardens. The taxi slows down in front of my block of flats. This time, I perceive trees, trees, trees. I had never noticed them in detail before, even though I have been here for seven weeks already. “What is your name, sir?” I ask him as I pay his fare and open the door. “My name is Mr. Long,” he smiles. “You know, every day, I tell everyone in my taxi about how the leaves and trees have life and how they move even though there is no wind. Trees are living beings. They are so powerful. Positive energy.” “Goodbye, Mr. Long,” I wave at him as he slowly pulls away. The leaves on the trees around my block of flats gently sway. Pure joy. I take a slow, long deep breath and inhale the energy of Mr. Long’s dancing leaves. When I get home to my 12th floor flat, I lean over the balcony, recollecting Mr. Long—The Tree Whisperer! I ponder about being back on vacation after three quarantined years away. My home. Singapore’s concrete jungle looms around me. There is a mix of government subsidized and private high-rise buildings. Shops, markets, and shopping centres dot every neighbourhood. I stare enviably at the few luxurious concrete houses, proudly encircled by brick fences—rare, expensive sanctuaries worth millions on a little island where land is rare and reclaimed. A row of tall, three-storey semi-detached houses lean into each other below. The plethora of dwellings sit in organized, unexpected fashion. Yet, every road, median, and building is carefully dotted with plants, trees, bushes—I let my eyes wander. I have forgotten about the ever-present greenery, foliage, and vegetation, having grown up here and seeing them as simply part of Singapore. As a young child, at school, I sat under giant trees in the school field to block the furious sun rays. I hugged trees and hid behind them when my friends and I played Hide and Seek. From my high-rise flat, I often looked down at trees. I even towered over their majestic height. At East Coast Beach, my family and I had picnics under the coconut and palm trees that swayed in the breeze from the South China Sea. Today, Mr. Long made me realize that I had simply overlooked how Singapore was more than a giant seamless city of stones, bricks, tree trunks, bushes, flowers—continuous, smooth concrete jungle and nature knotted, fused, and intertwined. Singapore was a true Garden City. The sun suffocates my senses. I wipe the rivulets of sweat with my indispensable giant white and red cowboy-patterned handkerchief. The waft of sweat upon sweat. Salty. There are so many towering blocks of flats that sit at every corner of this small island, a country crammed with 5.7 million people. Singapore, the country of my birth, is close to the size of Calgary. Singapore. Calgary. I am blessed. Truly, each country’s landscape is lovingly engraved in my soul. It’s all about perspectives. I am here. I am there. I am home in both Singapore and Calgary; I am an outsider, in both, at times. But in nature, in both countries, I can simply exist and be authentic. Right now, in this spectacular moment, perched high above the canopy of trees, I soak in and celebrate the private symphony and performance the Singapore leaves have put on for me. I take a deep intense gulp of the humid air. I smile when I think of Mr. Long, The Tree Whisperer, sharing his magic gems with each and every passenger in his taxi every single day.

Editorial Reviews

"From the beaches of Haida Gwaii to the ice-covered parks of Montréal, Beyond the Park: An Anthology of Ecological Experiences takes us through green spaces urban and rural, guided by the fragrances that stir our memories. This evocative bilingual anthology uses scent as a doorway into the landscapes of our lives that are always with us. Through scent, the eleven authors in this anthology speak volumes about the nuanced histories, environmental complexities, and enduring narratives of the places we call home.” — Jenna Butler, author of Revery, a Year of Bees.

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