Yvonne, a character in Malcolm Lowry’s novel Under the Volcano (1947), talks to Hugh, the brother of her alcoholic husband, about her plan to take her husband, Geoffrey, out of Mexico, and move with him to a farm in Canada. She is also hoping to escape, there, the oncoming European war.
She and her husband’s brother are riding horses together near Cuernavaca.
*********
‘Well… What’s to stop us going to Canada, for instance?’
‘… Canada?… Are you serious? Well, why not, but… ’
‘Perfectly.’
They had now reached the place where the railway took its wide leftward curve and they descended the embankment. The grove had dropped behind but there was still thick woodland to their right (above the centre of which had appeared again the almost friendly landmark of the prison watchtower) and stretching far ahead. A road showed briefly along the margin of the woods.
They approached this road slowly, following the single-minded thrumming telegraph poles and picking a difficult course through the scrub.
‘I mean why Canada more than British Honduras? Or even Tristan da Cunha? A little lonely perhaps, though an admirable place for one’s teeth, I’ve heard. Then there’s Gough Island, hard by Tristan. That’s uninhabited. Still, you might colonize it. Or Sokotra, where the frankincense and myrrh used to come from and the camels climb like chamois my favourite island in the Arabian Sea.’
But Hugh’s tone though amused was not altogether sceptical as he touched on these fantasies, half to himself, for Yvonne rode a little in front; it was as if he were after all seriously grappling with the problem of Canada while at the same time making an effort to pass off the situation as possessing any number of adventurous whimsical solutions. He caught up with her.
‘Hasn’t Geoffrey mentioned his genteel Siberia to you lately?’ she said. ‘You surely haven’t forgotten he owns an island in British Columbia?’
‘On a lake, isn’t it? Pineaus Lake. I remember. But there isn’t any house on it, is there? And you can’t graze cattle on fircones and hardpan.’
‘That’s not the point, Hugh.’
‘Or would you propose to camp on it and have your farm elsewhere?’
‘Hugh, listen – ’
‘But suppose you could only buy your farm in some place like Saskatchewan,’ Hugh objected.
An idiotic verse came into his head, keeping time with the horse’s hooves: Oh take me back to Poor Fish River, Take me back to Onion Lake, You can keep the Guadalquivir, Como you may likewise take. Take me back to dear old Horsefly, Aneroid or Gravelburg…
‘In some place with a name like Product. Or even Dumble,’ he went on. ‘There must be a Dumble. In fact I know there’s a Dumble.’
‘All right. Maybe it is ridiculous. But at least it’s better than sitting here doing nothing!’
[…] At this moment the best and easiest and most simple thing in the world seemed to be the happiness of these two people in a new country. And what counted seemed probably the swiftness with which they moved. He thought of the Ebro. Just as a long-planned offensive might be defeated in its first few days by unconsidered potentialities that have now been given time to mature, so a sudden desperate move might succeed precisely because of the number of potentialities it destroys at one fell swoop…
… He all but shook her horse with enthusiasm. ‘I can see your shack now. It’s between the forest and the sea and you’ve got a pier going down to the water over rough stones, you know, covered with barnacles and sea anemones and starfish. You’ll have to go through the woods to the store.’ Hugh saw the store in his mind’s eye. The woods will be wet. And occasionally a tree will come crashing down. And sometimes there will be a fog and that fog will freeze. Then your whole forest will become a crystal forest. The ice crystals on the twigs will grow like leaves. Then pretty soon you’ll be seeing the jack-in-the-pulpits and then it will be spring.
***************
Canada is the perennial place, the sanctuary which draws you into a crystal forest. Yet Point One wherever you go there you are. And Point Two
Life is, in fact, a battle. Evil is insolent and strong; beauty enchanting, but rare; goodness very apt to be weak; folly very apt to be defiant; wickedness to carry the day; imbeciles to be in great places, people of sense in small, and mankind generally unhappy. But the world as it stands is no narrow illusion, no phantasm, no evil dream of the night; we wake up to it, forever and ever; and we can neither forget it nor deny it nor dispense with it.
And Point Three (intimately related to Points One and Two):
There may be useful reconsiderations and redescriptions, but you really did have those parents, you really did make of it what you made of it, you really did have those siblings, really did grow up in that economic climate. These are all hard difficult facts. Redescribed, they can be modified, things can evolve. But it isn’t magic.
You’re a problem; and now your president is a problem too. Okay. But this place is where you really are. Dig your heels in and put up your dukes.
November 9th, 2016 at 4:19PM
Love Amsterdam, considered Amsterdam. Bonus: they all speak English like a native speaker. Ultimately it’s not home and I’m not sure I could learn enough Dutch to order coffee. Kid’s an actor inn NY so that clinches it –clinches Canada too I guess. Still I have this disturbing image of a lobster slowly loosening its clothes, not realizing that it’s getting cooked.
November 9th, 2016 at 4:34PM
Greg: Amsterdam’s a very good one. Mine, lately, is Grand Cayman, Cayman Islands. I can snorkel off the beach. It’s a calm rich British Overseas Territory. It’s close to the States. It’s close to Cuba.
All the tax dollars whose offshore stashing I inveigh against on this blog keep it economically secure.
November 9th, 2016 at 7:19PM
Or… you know…
November 9th, 2016 at 7:38PM
Or Nice Fr. Ruth and I loved Nice two years ago October. It’s Florida without the crushing drawbacks. And Matisse (more color in his black and white stuff than in a Crayon box) at the museum and at the chapel. Chagall’s at least ok, sometimes actually great. Bocce, or whatever they call it there at St. Paul de Vence. Cut it out — well he did. Some Pastis just to get started. Green, turning pearly, liquid licorice, connecting with Picasso and the boys and Marie Laurencin. Still something unreal, suggesting that the floating will stop and the concrete will rise up to smack you hard. I want my country back. Trying to remember if I ever actually had it.
November 10th, 2016 at 7:12AM
Thought half-seriously about emigrating from the States back in the 1990s. Career reasons, plus political disgust. Canada, South America, the Caribbean.
November 10th, 2016 at 9:18AM
In real life, however, that sound you don’t hear is the sound of progressives not packing up, not loading up the Prii, Lexi, and SUVi, and not fleeing from these 57 United States of America. Which, by the way, is not a bad thing. After a few days, the ribbing that abortive emigrants are currently receiving will subside, and they may emerge into the sunlight to discover that the Forces of Reaction have not outlawed kale smoothies, tofu burgers, and rainbow flags. When Darth Trump reveals himself to be approximately as threatening as the late Nelson Rockefeller, you will all feel much better.
November 10th, 2016 at 11:07AM
tp, if he’s another Rockefeller I will get on my knees and thank the god of your choice.
November 10th, 2016 at 11:52AM
Trump “approximately as threatening as the late Nelson Rockefeller”
It would be nice to be that gobsmackingly surprised. If that turns out to be right by any fair standard of judgment, I’ll buy you a case of kale smoothies (12 drinks) if such an item exists in that form and under $20 per case. My dietary laws — requiring some pleasure in addition to trace levels of nutrition in eating and drinking –prohibit my joining you in that. I’ll have a nice bourbon instead. I must admit, though, that the Woodford Reserve nutrition facts online — yes they exist — look rather bleak. All categories are zeroed out. It must be a mistake.
One has to pack before revving up the engines in your sense. Aside from bickering about allocation of suitcase space, packing is a relatively silent process, though locks do click. So I’m guessing that that would be largely the sound of silence. By the way, the New Zealand immigration sites — not just the Canadian ones — have also crashed in the last few days. So far mainly only electrons have traveled. But a journey of many miles can begin with a mouse click.
November 10th, 2016 at 11:58AM
Here’s the footnote:
http://www.fitbit.com/foods/Bourbon/125385
Nutritional Information, Diet Info and Calories in
Bourbon
from Woodford Reserve
Nutrition Facts
Serving Size 1 oz [seems a third too small – Greg]
Amount Per Serving
Calories 69 Calories from Fat 0
% Daily Value*
Total Fat 0g 0%
Saturated Fat 0g 0%
Trans Fat 0g
Cholesterol 0mg 0%
Sodium 0mg 0%
Potassium 0mg 0%
Total Carbohydrate 0g 0%
Dietary Fiber 0g 0%
Sugars 0g
Protein 0g 0%
Vitamin A 0% • Vitamin C 0%
Calcium 0% • Iron 0%
* Percent Daily Values are based on a 2,000 calorie diet. Your daily values may be higher or lower depending on your calorie needs.
November 11th, 2016 at 10:12AM
You guys are funny, but not necessarily in a good way. Trump ain’t anything that he claims to be, and he sure as hell cannot be a ‘billionaire.” Why? Because legit folks don’t hang nor consort with cons and grifters. All one need do is a cursory search for Trump Institute/Trump University to realize any of that. He’s as real as Dudley Doo-Right,the analogy made in the thread to Darth Vader is appropriate.
What is far more interesting is the reaction from some elements of the plebiscite, specifically that Trump’s election is a revolution. Being the son of man who had to leave Mexico because of an actual revolt, how incredibly delusional and self important have many USAAmericans become? What Mexicans accomplished between 1910-20 demanded sacrifice and hardship far greater than many of us are capable of understanding. It doesn’t involve watching marketing schemes and waddling to a polling place every few years. George Carlin said it best, it’s called the American Dream because you have to be asleep to believe it….
November 11th, 2016 at 10:39AM
charlie: You’re right. From one important perspective, the election of Trump vindicates this statement made years ago by the philosopher Richard Rorty:
“We rich fat tired North Americans must hark back to a time when our own democracy was newer and leaner.”