Anakana Schofield – Author of Martin John and Malarky

Here we go Edmonton! Wordfest! Banff!

Finally I shall be able to unveil my parka! The parka I purchased 2 years ago in anticipation of an invitation to read in Edmonton, which never arrived until now. Thanks to St Albert STARfest and Wordfest I am able to put my two clogs down in Tony Cashman land and convene with the former home of the Toonerville Trolley.

Fear not if the above makes no sense, it was a historical transit tram in the city of Edmonton that I read about in a lovely book I found on the side of the road called Edmonton’s Best Stories. I am planning to record an extract from the story, so will link to it when I find time to make a youtube rendition.

Here are a few media articles anticipating the festival and a DEADLY column written by author & columnist Michael Hingston (who took time out launching his own book to come and chat to me — gracias). This is the column where I propose the relocation of the capital city of Canada. In the same conversation I also proposed a move to subsidized parkas, to go along with my idea of 24 hours swimming pools for the sake of non swimmers and insomniacs.

First The Edmonton Journal Column is here

The St Albert Gazette piece featuring a number of festival writers and a summary of events is here

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Last night I went to Jordan Abel’s launch for his poetry collection The Place of Scraps (Talon Books) at the Western Front. A poet prior to him nearly burst my ear drum but I had read with Jordan on Monday and was dead curious and engaged by his work. If you have the chance to see Jordan read from his work, do! He creates a fascinating soundscape that’s on a loop or is a loop. He loops in and out of his loops. Whatever the specifics may be the overall is most distinctive. He described his practice involving erasure poetry: reduction or removal or rearranging of a found text. I like the notion of rearranging the found or recycling it. Between this and his loops — there’s a strong sense of what was, what is and what can be, which I’m always partial to against say the single present moment that so much of contemporary publishing insists upon.

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The weather report begins with the news they lopped the top of the tree outside my window. It certainly let the light in, but they only recently brutalized the poor tree in August, so I am not sure what this new schedule of barber up a ladder is about. This morning gave us a blast of bright blue. The leaves are now yellow to red to mild brown in some cases. They are on the turn but not completely bald yet. Weather scandal is presently in a lull.

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