Matthew Firth was born in Hamilton in 1965, lived there for many years, and has lived
and worked in Ottawa since 2000. From 1993-2018 he ran Black Bile Press,
publishing numerous chapbooks, the litzine Black Cat 115 and 30 issues of the fiction magazine
Front&Centre. Firth is the author of four short story collections, including
Suburban Pornography and Shag Carpet Action, both published by Anvil Press.
Made in Canada is a collection of 22 of his stories translated into French and
published in 2013 by 13e Note Editions of Paris. He currently writes the column
“Crank & File” for Vancouver’s subTerrain magazine. While working from
home, like most people right now, Firth spends his time puttering around the
house, walking the dog and playing basketball on the street.
Q:
How long have you been in Ottawa, and what first brought you here?
I
have lived here since June, 2000. A shitty, mid-90s, two-door,
manual-transmission Honda Civic brought me here. That and work. My wife got a
job at Nortel during its boom. I was offered a job around the same time in
Sarnia. We chose Ottawa. No offence, Sarnia, but it was the right move. I
subsequently landed a job a few months after moving to Ottawa; have had the
same job ever since.
Q:
How did you first get involved in writing, and subsequently, the writing
community here?
I
started to write seriously 30+ years ago. I started because I thought I could.
From a very young age, I read a lot of fiction. At some point, I just decided
to try writing it instead of only reading it. It’s no more complicated than
this.
One
of my first memories of connecting with the Ottawa literary world is bumping
into you outside the Royal Oak on Bank Street, the one between Gilmour and
Maclaren. I was walking along the sidewalk in July 2000, minding my own
business, carrying my then one-year old kid on my back and ran into you. We
chatted and you brought me up to speed. We had first met in the mid-90s at
CanZine in Toronto. In 2000, I was publishing chapbooks and the literary
magazine Front&Centre. I had one full-length collection of short fiction
published: Fresh Meat. I can’t be sure but when we chatted, I assume you
invited me out to some stuff. I have vague memories of going to a reading at
another Royal Oak, the one near/on the U Ottawa campus, that same summer. But
mostly my connection to the writing community here was distant. I’ve never hung
around too many writers and seldom go to readings, especially back when I first
moved here, when I was working a new job and had a young kid. That, and I’m
antisocial. But then my second book was published by then-Ottawa small press
Boheme Press in September 2001 and, somehow, I was invited to read at the
Ottawa Writers Festival. When I think of that now, I have to commend that
festival for inviting me to participate. I was (am) a peripheral writer at best
and my fiction (I’ve seen the royalty statements …) doesn’t have wide appeal
and it is regarded by many as being borderline obscene or offensive or
whatever. But there I was on stage at the National Arts Centre reading a story
about a sloppy one-night stand (most are). I clearly remember Stuart Ross
laughing out loud (in a good way) when I read. That helped. That’s how I felt
connected: when the humour in my fiction hit home. People listened. People
laughed. People clapped when I was done. Some likely didn’t. Who cares about
those folks? I don’t. And then – another memory from that night – I met Ottawa
writer Bill Brown after I read. He bought a copy of my book. I signed it. I
think I said something funny to him. He laughed. We chatted. We met for coffee
a week later. We have been good friends for almost 20 years since. Bill went on
to co-edit Front&Centre with me for 10-12 years. That’s the best connection
– to Bill – I have formed with Ottawa writers. It happens this way. I am glad
it did.
Q:
How did being in such a community of writers shift your thinking about writing,
if at all?
I’ve
always been uncomfortable with the notion of a writing community, that is if
it’s construed as a gathering of writers. As mentioned, I stayed away for the most
part. I am not truly misanthropic but I mostly just think writing is a solitary
pursuit and a solitary pleasure. From an early age, books were an escape for me
on various levels. I like quiet. I like libraries. Bookstores, in my opinion,
are best when they are largely silent and smell a certain way. I’ve done
readings for my books over the years, but somewhat reluctantly. I don’t like
that type of attention. In some sense, I don’t want to know the person behind a
book. The book is enough. The book is more meaningful. The book is complete as
is; why add a face, a handshake, a beer to the mix? My thinking on this hasn’t
changed much, changed very little when I moved to Ottawa. As mentioned, I am
grateful to have a strong friendship with Bill Brown but I am only really
acquaintances with other Ottawa writers. I buy books, magazines, read stuff,
review stuff (or did). That’s how I feel part of the community of writers,
mostly. Once in a while I push myself out of my comfort zone and go to some
kind of literary event but now, thinking about it, it’s been years since I’ve
done that. I like people, don’t get me wrong, at least most of the time. But
I’ve just never felt the urge to be part of a literary scene or whatever. It
works for others. It doesn’t work for me, at least not in the sense of being
physically present with such things.
Q:
What do you see happening here that you don’t see anywhere else? What does
Ottawa provide, or allow?
I’ll
only comment by way of comparing readings I’ve done in different places
because, as mentioned, I’ve never been part of any scene in the traditional
understanding of that concept. But I have noticed differences with reading here
or there. Ottawa likes its writers. Recall what I wrote about the Writers
Festival. Ottawa is big enough to have a meaningful festival but not too big
that there isn’t space for local writers. That’s a good balance. When I’ve read
in Montreal, people laugh more. When I’ve read in Toronto, people laugh less
and/or seem to try hard not to be seen enjoying themselves. When I’ve read in
Hamilton (my home town), people will tell you exactly what they think, with
Hamilton being a no-bullshit type of city. I’ve read a few other places, but
mostly in these four cities (the CFL east division, now that I think of it). I
am always grateful for the opportunity to read, even though I haven’t done it
in years. I would say Ottawa allowed reading opportunities more than I expected
and that helped a lot, helped me get comfortable with the idea of reading
before a huge crowd (a baker’s dozen or so, typically). I have always felt
Ottawa – sort of physically and psychologically – permits more room to breathe
and wriggle and get to know oneself, compared to the aforementioned cities (and
Vancouver, where I’ve read a couple times). When I left Hamilton and then
returned once in a while and was asked about Ottawa, that was always my go-to
answer: you can breathe and move around in Ottawa; you can be in the city and
then out of the city in 15 minutes; you can see folks you know or choose not
to; you can just walk up to the gate and buy 67s tickets and watch a decent
junior A hockey game or not. It’s an easy place to live, to immerse yourself in
to whatever extent you prefer. The literary world here is about the same.
That’s good enough for me.
Q:
Have any of your projects responded directly to your engagements here? How have
the city and its community, if at all, changed the way you approached your
work?
This
is a weird thing, given what I wrote in the last question: I’m getting close to
having lived half my life in Ottawa but I don’t feel viscerally that it’s a
place I write about. Ottawa has given me the feeling of openness that I
described earlier to write what I want to write – and maybe that’s something I
have always done, who knows – but I very rarely situate my fiction in Ottawa.
Ottawa just hasn’t seeped all the way into my bones yet. Ottawa is still clean
air in my Hamilton slag-heap lungs. Ottawa purges toxins but I think I need
toxins to write, hence, Ottawa doesn’t emerge when I write fiction, at least
not most of the time. That said, I write very little fiction now. Maybe I’m
letting the Ottawa part of me percolate on a slow boil. Maybe it will come out
when I next write fiction with vigour. Not sure.
Q:
What are you working on now?
This
interview. Sorry, there’s the smart-assed/tell-it-like-it-is Hamiltonian coming
out in me again. From 1997-2011 I wrote a lot of fiction and had four
collections published, plus I ran my micro press (Black Bile Press) from 1993-2018). I mostly stopped writing fiction around the time my dad died. I
don’t know if I mentioned this before to you, rob, but I wrote a eulogy for him
and read it at his funeral in November 2012. Afterward, I sort of felt that
writing fiction was meaningless, so I’ve all but stopped. Around 2015 I started
writing a column for sub-Terrain magazine (published by Anvil Press out of
Vancouver, where two of my four books were published). It’s called Crank n
File. Brian Kaufman (great publisher/human being) asked me to do it. It’s
supposed to be connected to literary things but mostly I just write about
whatever’s on my mind and he gives me 1,000 words to do so. I really enjoy that
as I blend opinion/ranting/lamentation/humour together, stir it up, and see
what comes out. And I now – for a couple of years or so – write poetry more
than fiction. My mother died in February. I wrote 11 poems about her and put
them in a chapbook that I printed. I gave copies to family and friends to help
remember her. I only printed 15 copies. Bill Brown has one. That poetry book –
like the eulogy for my old man – is how I see writing, for the most part, these
days: spare, economical, personal, meaningful. Thank you for asking me to take
part in this.
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