Review by Sara Mang
Photo by Tom Cochrane
What is it about Writers at Woody Point that brings people back every year to a remote village on an island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean?
Perhaps it is the quaint historic fishing outport of Woody Point, Newfoundland itself, with its heritage theatre, built in 1908 and restored to its current whimsical charm by a local musician. Perhaps it is the spectacular Table Lands in Gros Morne National Park where you may walk upon the earth’s mantle. Perhaps it is the camaraderie that is now synonymous with Newfoundland after the success of the Broadway Musical, Come From Away or the penchant of the locals to showcase their music, their hooked rugs, their pan-fried cod tongues. Perhaps it is that Gord Downie once opened the festival with Bobcaygeon or that Gordon Pinsent once closed it with a recitation from the Tempest. It may be the local woman who boasts of dancing at the Legion with Michael Ondaatje ‘till the wee hours. After fourteen years, this magic lives on. I felt it when Lawrence Hill and Sharon Bala spoke onstage like old friends about cultural memory and how easy it is to forget that most of us come from somewhere else. It is all of this and the stories and the songs of belonging and survival that are weaved in such a way as to make everyone feel at home.
Certainly one can find warm and welcome audiences anywhere, particularly at a literary festival where patrons tend to be inquisitive, open and versatile. There is breathtaking scenery in every county, every country, every continent. But there is something special about the inimitable Writers at Woody Point festival. There is enchantment here. This place enables joy.
I spent my childhood summers in outport Newfoundland. We made hay, picked berries, swam in the ocean, had fires on the beach, played truth or dare. There were dances in the community hall. There were drives in cars and cigarettes purchased one at a time for forty-five cents. My grandmother recited Adelaide Anne Procter and oftentimes in the evenings a crowd gathered to listen. We listened to singers heave out the old Newfoundland or Irish ballads, verse upon verse upon verse. We listened to masterful storytellers like Mr. John Joe English; his many impersonations ranging from that of a saucy little boy to that of an incredulous old lady. We were groomed as active listeners. Growing up by the ocean teaches a person to listen carefully.
Today when you visit rural Newfoundland you find many of the houses that were once gathering places, boarded up or falling down. Fish plants are closed, graveyards are crowded and kindergarten classes are empty. Varying degrees of addictions taint most family trees. Outmigration has pulverized the population of Newfoundland outports leaving in its wake a palpable awareness of the fragility of oral histories.
It is this reality of rural Newfoundland that makes the Writers at Woody Point festival such a remarkable production. The organizers, many of whom are Come From Aways, possess a consciousness of this fragility. They also understand how music and literature can capture legacies of struggle and endurance. The authors share stories of home in its many splintery forms. Sharon Bala discusses her debut novel Boat People which traces the journey of Mahindan, a Sri Lankan asylum seeker, as he struggles to establish a new home in Canada. Elizabeth Hay shares her newest work All Things Consoled which explores the endless agonies of the home dynamic as its members face old age. Elizabeth joins festival-goers on the Lomond River Trail where she reads from letters written to her mother while hitchhiking across Newfoundland in the 1970s. David Chariandy reads from Brother and his latest book I’ve Been Meaning to Tell You where he converses with his daughter about ordinary instances of racism. The audience participates in a live CBC interview between Chariandy and Shelagh Rogers, a long time and beloved host of Writers at Woody Point. There are belly-laughs, there are tears and for those who listen carefully, there is the ocean.
One evening of the festival is dedicated to traditional music. Musicians from Newfoundland and Ireland gather in a circle for an improvised jam session that includes over thirty people. Newfoundland musical legends Sandy Morris and Anita Best are among the mix as well as Tom Power from CBC’s Q, the utterly talented Rum Ragged and a new favourite Irish group who named their band Newfoundland. The musicians take turns leading or providing background music while the crowd gathers with their drinks, dancing or listening to the flood of music that fills the theatre. When Tom Power invites an audience member to sing, a gentleman takes the floor and sings The Old Lighthouse Keeper to a silent, awestruck crowd.
On the final morning of the festival, the audience experiences David Ferry’s latest rendition of ShortWaves/Short Stories. Part live theatre, part radio drama, the production at times reminiscent of a Greek chorus was created with the active listener in mind. David adapted for broadcast an Elisabeth de Mariaffi short story from her Giller nominated collection How to Get Along With Women. The audience sips mimosas while listening to the live broadcast as Ferry and his team of actors and musicians narrate/perform the story in a separate location. The accompanying theme song is an excerpt of a long poem written by de Mariaffi and adapted to lyrics. To further enliven the listening experience, statue dancers are planted among the audience, awakened only at the sound of live music over the air waves.
The Writers at Woody Point festival is a haunting, swirling tangle of inventiveness, collaboration and stories of survival. Its sinew is the thriving kinship and efforts of people who value a pared down sense of home. In a place of openness there is space to listen and there is joy.
Sara Mang’s fiction and poetry have appeared or are forthcoming in numerous literary journals including The New Quarterly, Canadian Literature, ARC, Room and CV2. Her work was a finalist for The New Quarterly’s Peter Hinchcliffe Fiction Award, Malahat Review’s Far Horizons Award for Poetry and the L. Hemingway Short Story Award. Sara lives in Cornwall with her husband, three children and rabbit.