Sundre by
Christopher Willard is subtitled A Novel, though the book doesn't
fit the usual pattern of a novel. Some parts might be classed as a narrative
prose poem, but it is more than that. Some sections read more like a
series of lyrical vignettes or recollections, but it is more than that,
too. Perhaps, given its brevity, it could be classed as a long short
story. Taken as a whole, however, it is a work of art that will stay
in your mind for days.
Sundre is
the story of a farm couple, Sandra and Avery, who live near the town
of Sundre in western Alberta, close to the Rocky Mountains, with their
three children, two boys and a girl, Dode, Dusty and Sheryn-Lee. However,
because of the unusual structure of the novel, it takes the reader a
while to figure that out; introductory names and location are not given.
The story is told in the first person, alternating between Sandra and
Avery, but it took me a good while to figure that out, too, since the
narrator isn't identified. Even after I realized the format, I had to
backtrack occasionally to determine who was speaking. This is partly
because quotation marks aren't used for conversation, just dashes, and
there are no speaker tags.
The story, an unsettling
one, begins in the early 1950s with Avery taking a picture of Sandra,
while leaning out from a footbridge over the Red Deer River. This event
took place in their early years, before marriage, and sets a foreboding
undercurrent for the tale. Through brief, scattered vignettes, we learn
a few details of their courtship, their years on the farm, and a little
about their children. Sometimes the same event is told from both viewpoints;
for example, the box social dance where Avery and Sandra meet. Sometimes
an event is told in scattered reminiscences. Gradually the reader begins
to experience a premonition, a feeling of dread, due to the author's
foreshadowing, such as when Avery asks Sandra, "You didn't worry then?
Never?" There seems to be an emphasis on endings, on death as part of
a cycle; "Sometimes I wonder whether in this world something can be
good without something being terrible . . . Even that brief, beautiful
moment we call life ends terribly." (37)
The writer has
included a lot of short, pithy statements by both narrators, prairie
wisdom that grabs the reader. For example, Sandra believes that: "Perfection
exists, truly and only in imperfection. Those who think they can lasso
excellence have another thing coming, and that's called dissatisfaction."
(72) Avery, pondering on the meaning of war, says: "When I pause
to ponder just how much humanity's done for the good of a country since
the dawn of civilization, I think it's a blessing we haven't done more
good." (80) There's
not much humour, but I'll remember one of Avery's succinct statements:
"You don't squat with your spurs on." (62)
The writing in
this novel is sparse, the language poetic. I enjoyed the descriptions
of the farm and prairie and wildlife, and would have liked more. For
example: "How camouflaged the western bluebird is out here, belly
a sand-worn orange of the land, back a mirror reflection of the sky.
This little bird is an earth and heaven all its own." (92)
Sundre is
a very short novel. Within the 127 pages there is a whole lot of white
space--the actual number with text on them is only about half of that
total. Once I reached the end, however, I immediately started rereading
it to see what I'd missed--something I don't normally do. The author
has deliberately omitted so much of the story, hinted at events without
describing them, left out details that I would like to know--but perhaps
less actually does mean more.
Christopher Willard
is an American-born writer living in Calgary. Sundre is his second literary
novel. His first was a satire entitled Garbage Head.