湖边小雷-lakeshore
Readings & Translations
【迷彩文学02】- 英语随笔 : 【Pen of many colors】Notes: 【迷彩文学02】
by: - 一语湖边 : Sunday, February 17, 2008
"Hear the voices, & See the colors of a dream? "
-A close reading & . literary analysis “of Itsuka” by Joy Kogowa
Canadian Multiculturalism in Literature
Revised Date: Monday, February 18, 2008 5:22:47 PM
- “To be without history is to be unlived crystal, unused flesh;
is to live the life of the unborn” Out line & key words of Essays, /Her Poetic Language Power, / Color, Seasons description,/The Imagery; / Metaphor;
Introduction: I enjoy reading her story. literarily, I feel the power of her poetic language; amazed by the imagery picture she is drawing with her unique technique delicacy. Joy Kogowa, as a poetic novelist, in her sister novel to 'Obasan', here excerpted as "of Itsuka" records the moment on September 22, 1988, when the government readdressed the Japanese Canadians mistreated during the World War II. Let's take another close look how she tell the story.
The subject matter is so serious and even bitter as it was, the 'Itsuka' turns the darkest page of the history for the readers, in reading the lines, readers can see how the memories being paint , the emotions mixes, and 'past voices' echoes from the bitter times of "crying", and "hungry". Vividly, I can feel and share the happiness, as through, with the tears as the "Dreams" come true. Reading between the lines, I hear the voices, see the colors, and feel the mixed emotions told in her power poetic language.
01: The Colors, in scenic description of the seasons,
The story dated in the Autumn of 1988. “Dreams, dreams, dreams," ( Page 82 ) she starts like reading a poem to the readers. Only these three words, the book of history turned open; Now, she is asking the Interesting questions: what kind of dreams? When does the dream start? What is it about?
She is a poet. She is powerful in using the words. It was Autumn. First, as a reader, I see the picture here, I see the beauty of seasons change. The author is activating reader's imagination, the 'freshness' in an early morning, through the summer, when ‘into the mustier season of leaves, orchards,’ Here, as through I followed her, come into an “orchards” where leaves turning golden-yellow, and the fruits hung in leaves of the tree; her scenic description has led me into a picture of 'golden Autumn'; I even can smell the smell of the time of a ‘golden’ “harvest” season.
Dreams vary, and mirror the life whose are having; the color of the ‘dreams” – which she says, ‘It begins in earliest infancy,’ and “through world’s many borderlands’. This is really like 'montage' in making a movie.
Dreams vary, and mirror the life whose are having; So poetic, as I read on, however, the 'Drama' plotted. She says, 'What I've weakened to in this new autumn day is hanger,' why "hunger?" in the beautiful golden season of harvest? and powerfully, three times she used the word : 'hunger", I am 'hunger' too, I want to know why author feels 'hunger' in 'Autumn’s harvest season. Here the story is powerfully started. Readers are fascinated. People dream about 'harvest' but in the golden season, people might having the dream of the bitter past, so to dream the 'dreams' of 'hunger' the 'hungry' seasons gone by.
02: the Metaphors and Imagery she is painting for readers ;
In my eyes, other than her painting the picture of a autumn day, immediately, after author's scenic view, Then I read another word “Hungry”, she is telling the reader: ’What I've weakened to in this new autumn day is hanger,' and "I'm as small and as hungry as a newborn Sparrow."
"Hungry', she is using it three times to create a imagery. Is there any word more powerful, 'basic' and 'instinct' than this one? Nothing else can let reader feel more directly and more actually the ‘poor’ and ‘poverty’. I see another picture: a small sparrow keeps her mouth wild, hungered for the feedings, in the last sentence.
In another case, I also see a picture of "a banquet table" where normally people seated for the joy of harvest in the golden time of the year, the laughing, tears, and words of toasting voiced at table. and 'the feast of words' so strongly calls for the memories of the past, and this is the moment the 'Dreams' fulfills and it 'heals' the hearts and souls, as we can see the faces 'up turned' with hunger of past, now and tomorrow. This is the picture I am watching reading: "we are seated at the banquet table that was the hope of people yesterday, and will feed us with hope of tomorrow" Now, I am excited, as the author, emotions mixed with the calling of yesterdays' dream and hope for tomorrow. And at this moment, readers might feel vividly the 'hungers' and 'hungry', how basic it is to be treated as a human being but not prisoners at the camp, which the writer in her colorful pen, pained for the reader a 'new born sparrow' and a 'feast at banquet table', so calling to the bitter memories of the time of 'hunger', and 'crying'.
03 : We hear the voices and sounds in her poems.
I not only saw the pictures but I hear the voices and sounds too. Joy Kogowa proved herself a poet in the "Itsuka" -
Page: 89
"I can hear the waves from childhood rippling onwards to touch other children who wait for their lives. I can hear the voices, fainted as the faraway sound of a distant, almost in audible wind. It is sound of the underground stream, it speaks through Memory, through dream, through hands, through words, our arms, our trusting. I can hear the sound of the voice that frees, a light, steady, endless breach. I can hear the breath of life."
The end paragraph is so poetic, I feel the rhymes in her wording: a song 'I can hear that I cried' almost in the air as I read hers. I can hear, I can hear, I can hear; so strong, so passionate, like in a poem, Here, I feel the delicacy in her describing the 'waves', the 'sounds' and 'voices', 'There is a time for crying' they said. ‘®But Itsuka someday the time for laughter will Come’¯... she recalls, and it is 'fainted', 'faraway', 'distant', 'in audible wind' like 'underground stream' and even, she let me hear the voice of 'breath of life' Now, I am, as through, hearing the voices in the "Dream". The voices finally ‘frees’ for the turning the history, turn the suffering to happiness, hungry to full, dark to light, unsecured to steady, and the death to the ‘breath of life”. All these emotionally, vividly, and audibly we are reading in her "Itsuka"
Conclusion:
Reading "Itsuka", I feel the delicacy in her language, my eyes follows with her lines on the painting she is drawing, my ears hear the waves, and voices from 'distant', 'faraway', and even 'underground' as if in 'Dreams', vividly, she unfolds, the bitter history pages turned.
I am enjoying and fascinated by the joys at the 'feast table' of the harvest moment, and remembering together with her the 'time' when people in the past, in the poor and poverty that once they "dreamed" in the darkest days of war.
I realized the mixed feelings and emotions that people have at the 'seasons' of the 'harvest' could be rooted from the 'hunger' in side, and their words and laughing at 'banquet table' echoes 'faint' and 'faraway' the voices of the people who no longer living. A picture in front of me, story I read, colors I see, words I heard could be 'too wonderful, too sad, and too joyful, " at same time in "Itsuka"
Excerptions:
Page: 82-83
“Dreams, dreams, dreams.
It begins in earliest infancy, this journey through the world’¯s many borderlands”¡± It proceeds through the day of odorless fawn, past summer, into the mustier season of leaves, orchards, the harvest with its memories and dance. .? To be without history Is to be unlived crystal, unused flesh; is to live the life of the unborn
What I've weekend to in this new autumn day is hanger. My eyes are hungry. The Palms of my hands are hungry for this square inch of space we are inhabiting today. Our bite-sized moment of life. I'm as small and as hungry as a newborn Sparrow.
'There is a time for crying' they said. ‘®But itsuka someday the time for laughter will Come’¯...
Page: 86,
Page: 89
"I can hear the waves from childhood rippling onwards to touch other children who wait for their lives. I can hear the voices, fainted as the faraway sound of a distant, almost in audible wind. It is sound of the underground stream, it speaks through Memory, through dream, through hands, through words, our arms, our trusting. I can hear the sound of the voice that frees, a light, steady, endless breach. I can hear the breath of life."
1,311 words To be continued ( Adv. Canadian Literature )
约翰雷K. Shaw Burlington, Ca.
年， 初春 二月 You can reach him at:
lakeshore_viewer_2008@yahoo.cn (China)
john.canjourno.2008@gmail.com ( International
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