Last Days in Canada

The last couple of days I had in Montreal were pretty cool. I really liked the Plateau area. Downtown gives the impression of competing aspirations as to whether be a modern American city or a traditional European one and falls between the stools, this part of town feels individual to Montreal and is all the better for it. Square houses, with lots of bright colour and fancy windows and steps. It doesn’t come off in every case, but the overall effect is charming. Plus I had a flan on Avenue Laval (I assume Rue Quisling is round the corner) that was so good, it tasted like falling in love. Also in the area I saw a particularly Canadian sign, which read (in French) “this hill is our street, please don’t use it as a ski run”. Perhaps “Don’t take the piste” would be a more concise translation.

The French speaking thing in Montreal is a bit odd really. Although French is the main language in the city, pretty much everyone speaks English as well, and with lots of Anglophones at McGill and Concordia Universities as well as tourists and other interlopers it was difficult to know whether someone would speak to you in English or French. My French is OK if I’m ready for it, but when it’s sprung on me I tend to go blank. So, I spent a lot of the time there looking vacuous (or more son than usual).

I went to the Canadian Centre for Architecture too, which didn’t have much about architecture on public view (thankfully, as what it did have was way over my head), but did have a big collection of short films to watch on technology, transport and futuristic ideas. Best bits, a very funny public information film from about 1950 called Gentleman Jekyll and Driver Hyde which depicted the transformation of a decent, considerate guy to a rude, dangerous driver. Good to know that road rage is not a recent phenomenon. Also a documentary on the 1965 Tour de Saint-Laurent, including a bit where one of the two leading cyclists, obviously not used to being filmed, turned to look at the camera as it pulled up alongside him – whereupon the other rider took the opportunity to launch an attack and left him trailing behind. Best of all, some amazing film from the videos taken by the astronauts in the Apollo flights.

Overall, I had a good time in Canada. If it didn’t quite measure up to what I hoped for, it had lots of plus points too. Hopefully I’ll be back sometime.

Keeping it Montréal

On four days acquaintance with Montreal, I like it quite a lot, but I’m not sure exactly why. Some kind of intangible quality, more than the sum of its parts? I don’t know.

Firstly, the weather. It’s been between -5 and -15 most of the time I’ve been here, and honestly I’m loving it. Makes me feel fresh and alive and so on. Plus, no rain. It’s either sunny or snowing. And it’s great to be able to appreciate the beauty of the snow without feeling guilty that it’s going to be causing economic and social meltdown, as happens when more than an inch falls in the UK. Here, they can handle it. But when you’re walking around, with the wind whistling into your face, and your feet looking down to make sure that the ice/snow/slush underfoot isn’t too treacherous dangerous, it isn’t conducive to properly appreciating your surroundings. So, while I never pretend to definitiveness in my statements, what follows is even more based on snap judgements than usual!

Christ Church Cathedral

Architecturally, it’s all over the place. Some very nice buildings are scattered all over the place – the McGill campus around Parc Rutherford is lovely, as is Rue St Paul for instance, but there’s lots of plain buildings around too. There are weird juxtapositions like on Rue St Catherine where Christ Church Cathedral has a huge skyscraper right behind. If there aren’t many similar divergences of scale, there are plenty of style.

One common trait that I’m not keen on is buildings designed to look older than they are. These typically look pretty good from a distance, and bloody awful from up close.

Vieux Montreal has the highest concentration of prettiness and it is an agreeable neighbourhood to walk round in, but (and I’ve re-drafted this line multiple times in order to avoid sounding like some kind of eurosnob, and I just can’t do it) it wouldn’t be considered anything special in most of the great European cities.

Where Montreal does score big is with the Mont-Royal Park. I’ve gone on before about how much I think hills can add to a city’s attractiveness and Toronto suffers from only having man-made vantage points. By contrast, the hill that gives Montreal it’s name is not just a great view over the city, but like Montjuif in Barcelona or Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh gives an easily accessible escape route from the city. 15 minutes from downtown, and I was walking for half an hour without seeing more than two people. Sure, it was a work day, out of season, but that’s still a great option. Snow-covered it looked gorgeous, but it’s also covered in trees so I’m sure it looks great all year round.

Croix du Mont Royal

The best vantage point over the city is from the Chateau on the hill. It’s all a nice building, as well as a welcome warm refuge, though it’s decorated with some heroically bad paintings illustrating the history of Montreal. The accompanying text says that the commission was a welcome one for artists struggling with the economic climate during the Great Depression. I have to say, I’d have been surprised if they were well off in any circumstances. Nearby the Chateau is a big metal cross, which actually looks great.

From the other side of the hill the view is even better, with the colossal basilica of the St Joseph Oratory (second in size only to St Peter’s in Rome) prominent.

One thing that is often said about Montreal compared to Toronto is that it is a more egalitarian, less money obsessed society. Obviously I’ve not been here long enough to form any sort of a view on that, but one thing that is noticeable is that in January in Montreal it’s very difficult to ostentatiously display your wealth. The cars are all covered with dirt from the snow, while most everyone walking has to wear a big coat and sturdy boots, while the latest fashionable haircut isn’t going to survive for long even if you do bravely choose to go without a hat. Now, even Pop Sociology 101 might hesitate to suggest that there might be some correllation between equality in appearance and equality in society, but I think there might be something in that.

Only other thing I’ve done really is to go to the Fine Arts Museum, but will keep that for a separate post.

En Route, Montreal

When my brother travelled across Canada, he managed to fall in love on the bus, as documented in the lovely Elodie (I’ll stick a link in here somepoint!) so I was alert to the possibilities of high romance on the road to Montreal. Unfortunately no-one caught my eye, so I had to look out of the window instead.

I think I decided that I wasn’t going to stay in Canada on the road to Niagara, an ugly highway decorated by strip malls, it just made me think that this is not how a country should be. By contrast, heading north there was more snow, more trees, the occasional frozen lake and it was all very scenic. Add a hill or two and it would have been beautiful.

Another example of the divided by a common language thing, we passed a sign for Tippers Family Campground. At least I assume it was, maybe the families are all having their picnics amongst burnt out cars and rusting fridges.

Got stuck for a while at Ottawa bus station waiting for my connection. Apparently someone had cleaned the engine, the water had then frozen and put the engine out of action. I guess public transport has problems the world over, but this seemed a properly Canadian reason. After we left Ottawa for Montreal it got dark so I couldn’t see any more of the scenery from there on. I’ll assume it was all lovely.

Got to Montreal and the hostel about 8ish and was soon drinking with some of the other guests there, culminating in heading out to Igloofest. I didn’t see much evidence of igloos, but there was some very impressive ice sculpture’s. But it was really just a big outdoor disco. Given the temperature was about -15, dancing to keep warm was pretty much compulsory, and having to wear about seven layers had the added benefit of masking my terrible dancing at least to a certain extent. It was a really good night, and today has been mainly recuperation. Looking forward to heading out tomorrow to see the city.

Ursula Le Guin – The Lathe of Heaven

Sci-fi is not my novel genre of choice, but Le Guin is a fine writer so I only hesitated a little while before spending a dollar on this one. Actually it barely constitutes a novel at all, following the lives of the protagonists comes a distant second to an extended allegory on the merits of utilitarianism as a philosophy.

This is done through the interaction between George Orr, who has the ability to alter reality in dramatic ways through his dreams and wants to be cured of this power, and his therapist, William Haber,  who is able to give direction to the dreams and thus shape the world to his choosing.

Naturally this raises potentially interesting issues as to whether Haber’s largely benevolent ends can justify the means, the inevitability of unintended consequences and so on, but the book doesn’t really explore them because the examples are so grotesque. For instance, when Haber tries to address the problem of overpopulation that afflicts Portland in approx 2020 (when the book is set), Orr imagines a plague a couple of decades before which killed off 6 billion people, reducing the world’s population down to 1 billion.

The regular tropes of sci-fi set in Earth’s future are all present and correct – environmental catastrophe, alien invasion, totalitarian autocracy, though the invasion at least is neatly subverted. But while the events of the book are often overblown, the writing and the characters are much more understated. Orr generally responds fatalistically to the changes wrought in his world, while Haber eschews most mad scientist traits. Le Guin’s prose is very good, clearly and convincingly delineating the threads of history and avoiding melodramatic descriptions. It’s this restraint which makes the book readable, if not one worth searching out.

[edit]I just had a nap and dreamt very vividly that a) I was Bruce Springsteen’s brother, circa Born In The USA; and b) that I had incredible difficulty doing up my belt. I think humanity can be grateful that my dreaming does not materially affect reality.[/edit]

The Stud Farm On Tour

From today’s Fiver email from the Guardian:

“When we notice some sort of surge we look for the reason and it’s evident that the cause of the increase this week is the euphoria of Barça fans thanks to the huge win and [Andrés] Iniesta’s goal” – Mercedes Rodriguez, of Barcelona’s Quiron Clinic, puts the city’s current 50% rise in births down to the team’s 6-2 smiting of Madrid and Didier Drogba-riling at Stamford Bridge nine months ago.

I notice that they ignore the most obvious explanation for the phenomenon – that I happened to be going through Barcelona that week. Still, I guess we should allow them their little illusions. [/in joke]

Tourist Downtime

Been dealing with practical stuff for the last few days, so not much sightseeing. But going to Montreal on Saturday, which should allow more cheap shots acute observations on Canadian society.

For those who’ve been asking me about the weather, from tomorrow onwards it’s going to be cold. I’ve really liked the cold crisp days at around freezing, keeps me alert. -10 and lower? We’ll see.

Philip Roth – The Human Stain

Roth can write a beautiful sentence. Indeed he can write a beautiful paragraph. And The Human Stain has lots of them, it’s a very easy book to read. But once I’d put it down, I felt under very little compulsion to pick it up again. Ultimately, I don’t think it adds up to the sum of its parts.

Partly this is personal preference. I like plots. And throughout, the plot comes third behind Roth’s desire to expand on his characters, and the books message. As a character study, the main protagonist, Coleman Silk, is brilliantly portrayed and wholly convincing, as is his family and upbringing. Roth’s ear and tone for New Jersey in the 1940s is superb, and also for the academia parts. When he leaves that setting though he’s less successful. Faunia Farley never really seems a real person, while considerable (and sometimes repetetive) exposition fails to lift her ex-husband from cliche. The book struggles to grip you as soon as Silk is not directly involved.

The other problem is Roth’s agenda. The book clearly sets itself against multi-cultural, relativist, political culture in academia, against some assumed ideal humanist, meritocratic, liberal utopia, with echoes of David Mamet’s Oleanna. Roth cleverly uses subversive mouthpieces for his viewpoints. Silk, an ostensibly Jewish professor who is secretly from a light-skinned African-American family is undermined by ridiculous allegations of racism. His sister rails against Black History Month, while another black professor decries political correctness. Meanwhile a young French female literary theorist incarnates all that is wrong with contemporary academia, she is not only the villain of the piece, but also revealed as sceptical herself of the value of theory and in awe of the elite culture humanist scholars.

The Human Stain is not quite as reactionary or as blunt as that paragraph might suggest, but however much sympathy he might get for his arguments they don’t work as a sociological analysis. Likewise, as a work of fiction, it’s undermined by the way the narrative has to fit around Roth’s thesis. It’s a testament to his strengths as a writer that this flaw is not fatal to enjoying the book.

A Bride’s Second Great Disappointment

Apparently Oscar Wilde never actually said that about Niagara Falls – he called them one of the “keenest and earliest disappointments” which is not quite as pointed. Anyway, today I went to see them. What with Oscar’s comment and every guide book ever decrying the tacky and touristy building around the falls my expectations were not that high. But in fact, the falls are very impressive and although the surrounding buildings are horribly tacky (the US side is even worse apparently, which I find hard to envisage) it doesn’t really affect your enjoyment of the view itself. Actually, the route down there was more depressing, particularly between Toronto and Burlington, which appears to be just one loooong strip mall. Yuk.

One brilliant thing I did see in Niagara Falls town was a bus which had as its destination ”Hospital-Optimist”. Now, I’m going to assume that this means there  is also a “Hospital-Pessimist” bus, with one for people who are upbeat about their prognosis you know, I really think I’m going to beat this. OK, only 25% of people survive this operation, but why shouldn’t I be one of them? While the other bus has people saying things like Sure, my doc says that I’m going to be fine, but I don’t think she knows what she’s talking about. Heaven knows what would happen if you missed your bus and had to get the wrong one.

Culture Stuff

Wednesday evenings offers free admission to the two big cultural attractions in Toronto, the Royal Ontario Museum and the Art Gallery of Ontario. The museum only offers an hour, which really isn’t sufficient time to see everything, but I guess for locals that’s not an issue as they can always make more than one trip.

The general museum atmosphere is very much a “isn’t learning fun” one, with lots of interactivity and designs to make kids see how the exhibits relate to their daily life. In that respect it’s very well done, though as an adult I had more time for the Far Eastern Art which was presented in a more conventional museum atmosphere, presumably because they don’t think there’s any prospect of getting kids interested in it! The other thing I enjoyed was the amazingly beautiful collection of minerals there, though time didn’t really allow anything more than an appreciation of their appearance.

By contrast, the art gallery allows two and a half hours of free admission, which is more than enough time to see everything, particularly as the second floor is basically full of mediocre (and sometimes just plain bad) Canadian art. Paul-Emile Borduas was just about the only artist I liked.

Other than that, there’s a lot to enjoy. It’s a great building to start with, managing to combine modernity with a feeling of comfort. The collection of mainly European art is, understandably, a bit short of works for several periods/styles of painting and tries to make a virtue out of a necessity by taking a thematic approach instead. Some “themes”are pretty fluid, but it often works surprisingly well. The “herstory” room, primarily made up of portraits of women that span 200 years is really interesting.

Notable works:

Ribera’s – St Jerome. Now I love Ribera, and I like this piece, but the hands are really odd, It doesn’t fully come across in this link, but they look like baked apples or something.

Andre Derain- Still Life With Frying Pan

George Bellows – The Drunk. Gratuitous semi-nudity from the 1920s, posing as moral instruction.

Now for some blog interactivity. When I was young, I had a football management computer game (don’t all the best anecdotes start this way?) where the players abilities were described in words rather than, as is more normal, numbers. So you had to decide whether an “excellent” player was better than a “brilliant” one, or whether “decent” was worse than “good”. I was reminded of this when I saw all the categories by which the gallery listed its benefactors/founders. “First Founders” were top of the list, with mere “Founders” bottom. But in what order did these come in (I’ve alphabeticised them). A prize for anyone who gets it right, or is closest to doing so.

• Distinguished
• Grand
• Landmark
• Luminary
• Milestone
• Patron
• Transforming
• Visionary

Good luck.

The Face of the Future

Make your own