Edited
by derek beaulieu and rob mclennan, and designed by Chaudiere co-publisher
Christine McNair, The Calgary Renaissance
highlights some of the diverse and astonishing experimental poetry and fiction
that has emerged out of the past two decades of Calgary writing. An essential
portrait of some of the most engaged and radical of Canadian writing and
writers from one of the country’s most important literary centres. You can order a copy directly, here.
For
further (ongoing) interviews with contributors to The Calgary Renaissance, check out the link here.
Jonathan
Ball holds a Ph.D. in English
and teaches literature, film, and writing at the University of Manitoba and the
University of Winnipeg. He is the author of Ex Machina, a poetry book
about how machines have changed what it means to be human, Clockfire, a
collection of 77 plays that would be impossible to produce, and The Politics
of Knives, poems about violence, narrative, and spectatorship, and winner
of a Manitoba Book Award. Jonathan also published John Paizs’s Crime Wave,
an academic study of a neglected Canadian cult film classic, which was launched
at the Toronto International Film Festival and also won a Manitoba Book Award.
He co-edited, with Ryan Fitzpatrick, Why Poetry Sucks: An Anthology of
Humorous Experimental Canadian Poetry. Jonathan has also directed short
films (including Spoony B, which sold to The Comedy Network), been a
section editor for The Manitoban and filling Station magazine,
served as the managing editor of dANDelion magazine, and founded the
literary journal Maelstrom. In 2014, Jonathan won the John Hirsch Award
for Most Promising Manitoba Writer. Visit him online at JonathanBall.com,
where he helps ambitious writers learn to edit, experiment and grow, and become
more productive so they can build sustainable careers.
Twitter: @jonathanballcom
Facebook: @jonathanballcom
Instagram: @jonathanballcom
Q:
How long were you in Calgary, and what first took you there?
A:
I spent four years in Calgary, and went there to complete a Ph.D. in English
(with a focus on Creative Writing) at the University of Calgary. I had two
offers — U of Alberta in Edmonton and U of Calgary — and both were nearly equal
in terms of the money offered. So I looked over my bookshelf and there were
more Calgary authors there than Edmonton authors, and that sealed the deal.
Q:
How did you first get involved in writing, and subsequently, the writing
community in Calgary?
A:
I first began writing seriously in grade school — it just seemed a natural
extension of my reading. I literally ran out of books I wanted to read because
I grew up in a small town without a library, other than my grade school library
and my grandparents’ home library, and so started writing stories until I
realized that I could get my mother to take me to the library in the town where
she worked.
Then
I started pulling books off the shelves based on their titles, which is how I
read two of the books that had a huge impact on my development as a writer and
made me want to start writing seriously: Black
Night Window by John Newlove and The
Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie. Newlove was my first real exposure to
modern poetry, and Rushdie’s novel had an architecture like nothing I had ever
seen. Those two books somewhat set my dials, to tune me into sharp, stark phrases
set inside complex formal structures.
I
had met Derek Beaulieu at an academic conference in Winnipeg where he was
seated with me and my then-girlfriend, Lindsey Wiebe. He gave “us” (read:
“her”) a book and I stole it and then when I arrived in Calgary, I emailed him.
I literally just sent him an email that said something like, “Hey, I’m moving
to Calgary, let me buy you a beer and some poutine or whatever and in return
you will plug me into the Calgary writing scene.” And then that’s what he did.
Q:
How did being in such a community of writers shift your thinking about writing,
if at all? What did Calgary provide, or allow?
A:
Some time before the move, I had written a poem for Lindsey that won an award
and a nice little cash prize. She was thrilled and I was happy but it confirmed
a feeling I had, which was that I felt very much like I had discovered the
formula for writing a certain kind of poem and I was bored of it now. I made my
girlfriend happy and I made some money and now I was done. But I didn’t know
what else to do. I didn’t have a clear sense of what else there was. I was
well-read but I didn’t connect the variety of what was on offer in the literary
world with the in-front-of-my-face world of people around me doing work.
Calgary
at the time I was there was a hotbed of young writers. I was instantly
surrounded by people who were publishing books. It felt like every week one of
my friends published a book. It made me feel very competitive, in a good way,
and the quality of the work was so high overall that I really felt like I had
to work harder to stand out. I was very ambitious, as I still am, but there was
an energy in the air then that I don’t feel now.
It
really felt like what I imagine Paris felt like in the time of Hemingway and Stein
and so on — everyone was doing amazing work and pushing each other to do better
work. And everyone was different. Very few people were doing the same thing,
but they were all working at a very high level. The range was astonishing and
there was just so much going on. Derek himself was a massive influence on me,
as were Jason Christie and Ryan Fitzpatrick and Chris Ewart and Natalie Zina
Walschots, and a host of other writers — too many to name. Caleb Zimmerman, who
I wish would write more, was a major supporter — we used to meet in the
mornings just to make sure we were both awake and working rather than sleeping
in.
Also,
two teachers in particular had a massive effect on me: Christian Bök, who was
always extremely encouraging and challenging, and Suzette Mayr, who was my
supervisor. Suzette more than anyone really made me work. I applied to her
creative writing manuscript class and while I was scrambling to leave town she
emailed me to say something like, “Your writing sample is strong and you seem like
a good writer but the project you say you want to work on is super-boring. It’s
so boring I can’t stand it. I don’t know if I should let you in this class.”
And so I rushed her back an email saying, “Don’t worry, I’ve got another
project, I’m not at home right now but when I get home tonight I will email you
the info on that.”
In
reality, I had nothing. I had sent her my best idea, a novel I had already
planned out and written a bunch of pages for, and I had nothing else. Like,
NOTHING. At the time I was reading Kafka’s Amerika
and so I panicked and emailed her something like, “The new project I’m doing is
called Kanada, it’s like Kafka’s Amerika sort of, like a satire of first
novels and has the same basic plot and also the main character is called “I” so
it’s written in both the first- and third-person at the same time …” I just
made up the craziest stuff I could imagine so that it wouldn’t sound boring.
She emailed me back something like, “Sure, whatever.” But then somehow became
my biggest supporter and my dissertation supervisor and really an amazing
friend.
Another
major person that meant a lot to my development as a writer while in Calgary
was Natalee Caple, who was the outgoing writer-in-residence when I arrived and
who began a Ph.D. a little later than I and who shared an office with me for a
time. Natalee and I began a “short story club” and gave each other a lot of
feedback and encouragement on various manuscripts. She was writing The Semiconducting Dictionary (Our
Strindberg) while I was writing Clockfire,
so we both had these theatrical poetry books. And then we were also writing
dissertations at the same time and we still regularly keep tabs on one another
(we share our weekly writing goals and progress) even though I probably talk
more about my daughter than my writing with her these days.
In
short, Calgary made me work at a level I didn’t think possible for myself and
to push my ideas farther and farther and farther as I tried to compete and earn
my place at the table with an explosive group of massive talents. Even the
students “below” me were incredible talents — Paul William Zits and Helen
Hajnoczky and Bronwyn Haslam and so many others. It was a literary scene like
nothing I ever imagined or have seen before or since.
I
should also have mentioned kevin mcpherson eckhoff and Jordan Scott and Jill
Hartman — I could go on forever and I’m sorry everyone I haven’t just mentioned
but I’m exhausted and just had a third child (the second baby in the house now)
and I had a horrible day and I’m going to sleep now.
Q:
What prompted your move away, and what kind of effect has the shift made in
your work?
A:
I moved away from Calgary, back to Winnipeg, because I have a daughter with an
ex in Winnipeg. I won’t get into the personal issues, which are complex and
beyond belief. Anyway, I finished my degree as quickly as possible and then
moved back to Winnipeg to be closer to my daughter. So I don’t have a literary answer. I left
Calgary to be closer to my daughter. If she was in Calgary then I would have
stayed.
I
had lived in Winnipeg previously, and so the first time I lived here made most
of the impact. However, since moving back, I’ve been able to more fully embrace
and rediscover my love of genre fiction. Winnipeg plays hosts to an amazing bundle
of talents in various popular genres, like fantasy and horror, and being around
those people has helped me branch out more fully into those arenas, where I
always saw myself in part.
For
example, earlier this week I finished a short story that is a weird
Lovecraftian sword-and-sorcery / Cormac McCarthy / feminist deconstructionist
sort of thing, which will be bundle with a story by GMB Chomichuk and another
by Chadwick Ginther for a project we’re doing called Shared World. They did one Shared
World book and I loved it and forced them to include me in Shared World 2 by virtue of being a
pushy jerk.
This
will sound strange, but even though everyone considers me an experimental poet,
I have always seen myself as an author of experimental horror fiction. Nobody
agrees with me, but in Winnipeg they at least pretend they agree with me once
in a while.
Q:
What are you working on now?
A:
Here’s the list:
*
I finished a short story collection titled The
Lightning of Possible Storms and it is under consideration right now.
*
I’m writing a screenplay called Edenbridge
for director Solomon Nagler, which is partly set in the Jewish farming
settlement of Edenbridge, SK, now a ghost town.
*
I’m returning to my Calgary PhD dissertation, The Crow Murders, and putting that into publishable shape. Go to www.thecrowmurders.com and sign
up to keep updated on this multimedia project.
*
I’m gathering and writing poems for a collection called The National Gallery. You can read one of them here: http://www.jonathanball.com/franklin-carmichael/
*
I’m planning to revamp and revive my dormant website at www.jonathanball.com — so go there and
join my mailing list! http://www.jonathanball.com/newsletter/
— I will give you a free ebook about how to create and maintain a writing
schedule, which is the thing people most tell me they struggle with. Then in
the fall/winter as the site progresses and develops, and when I start my
podcast (I’m starting a podcast!) you will hear more about that, and everything
else I’m doing.












