The passage I chose to post a blog entry on is the following:
“Two of Nicholas’ friends died on the trip. An Italian showed him how to drink blood in the animal pens to keep strong. It was a French boat called La Siciliana. He still remembered the name, remembered landing in Saint John and everyone thinking how primitive it looked. How primitive Canada was. They had to walk half a mile to the station where they were to be examined. They took whatever they needed from the sacks of the two who had died and walked towards Canada.
Their boat had been so filthy they were covered with lice. The steerage passengers put down their baggage by the outdoor taps near the toilets. They stripped naked and stood in front of their partners as if looking into a mirror. They began to remove the lice from each other and washed the dirt off with cold water and a cloth, working down the body. It was late November. They put on their clothes and went into the Customs sheds.
Nicholas had no passport, he could not speak a word of English. He had ten napoleons which he showed them to explain he wouldn’t be dependent. They let him through. He was in Upper America.”
Even though he does not play a very important role (or very large for that matter) in Ondaatje’s novel, I found Nicholas Temelcoff’s story particularly interesting. (To be totally honest, he is my favourite character in the book.) For those who had the time to take a look at the articles in the course pack related to Michael Ondaatje and to In the Skin of a Lion, they may have read in Linda Hutcheon’s interview of Michael Ondaatje that a man named Temelcoff (an Armenian bridge builder) actually existed. Thus we can see how the novelist, through his majesty and art, starting just from the name of an actual real man that existed at some point in time, creates a story, a history; he manages to create a whole universe, his starting point being only a name, an occupation and a nationality. Not only are we told that Temelcoff played a vital role in the building of the bridge, but Ondaatje also manages to create the story of how this man emigrated to Canada and the difficulties he encountered on the way. This passage is very significant in my opinion, because it does not only portray the beginning of a new life for Nicholas Temelcoff, but also a beginning for this new, “primitive” country. Both the newly-arrived man (who does not even possess an identification card) and the land are primitive, they are two entities in the making, history is creating itself in them and through them. Also striking in this passage is the idea of someone walking towards Canada, as if it was not bordered by water to the East, West and the North, but by land.
For personal reasons, the question of immigration is one that I find particularly interesting. And the episode of Nicholas Temelcoff’s crossing of the Ocean on board the La Siciliana (it is interesting to point out that even though the boat is French it bears an Italian name) to get to Canada made me think at a very famous photograph by Alfred Stieglitz, entitled The Steerage (that many of you may already be familiar with). This photograph was taken by Stieglitz during America’s peak immigration year and it is a very expressive and moving record of this movement. For those interested in seeing it, I give you this link: www.leegallery.com/stieglitz.html (it is the first photograph on the page). If you have the time to do it, please go and take a look at it, it will really give you a visual image of what Nicholas Temelcoff’s experience on La Siciliana may have been.
“Two of Nicholas’ friends died on the trip. An Italian showed him how to drink blood in the animal pens to keep strong. It was a French boat called La Siciliana. He still remembered the name, remembered landing in Saint John and everyone thinking how primitive it looked. How primitive Canada was. They had to walk half a mile to the station where they were to be examined. They took whatever they needed from the sacks of the two who had died and walked towards Canada.
Their boat had been so filthy they were covered with lice. The steerage passengers put down their baggage by the outdoor taps near the toilets. They stripped naked and stood in front of their partners as if looking into a mirror. They began to remove the lice from each other and washed the dirt off with cold water and a cloth, working down the body. It was late November. They put on their clothes and went into the Customs sheds.
Nicholas had no passport, he could not speak a word of English. He had ten napoleons which he showed them to explain he wouldn’t be dependent. They let him through. He was in Upper America.”
Even though he does not play a very important role (or very large for that matter) in Ondaatje’s novel, I found Nicholas Temelcoff’s story particularly interesting. (To be totally honest, he is my favourite character in the book.) For those who had the time to take a look at the articles in the course pack related to Michael Ondaatje and to In the Skin of a Lion, they may have read in Linda Hutcheon’s interview of Michael Ondaatje that a man named Temelcoff (an Armenian bridge builder) actually existed. Thus we can see how the novelist, through his majesty and art, starting just from the name of an actual real man that existed at some point in time, creates a story, a history; he manages to create a whole universe, his starting point being only a name, an occupation and a nationality. Not only are we told that Temelcoff played a vital role in the building of the bridge, but Ondaatje also manages to create the story of how this man emigrated to Canada and the difficulties he encountered on the way. This passage is very significant in my opinion, because it does not only portray the beginning of a new life for Nicholas Temelcoff, but also a beginning for this new, “primitive” country. Both the newly-arrived man (who does not even possess an identification card) and the land are primitive, they are two entities in the making, history is creating itself in them and through them. Also striking in this passage is the idea of someone walking towards Canada, as if it was not bordered by water to the East, West and the North, but by land.
For personal reasons, the question of immigration is one that I find particularly interesting. And the episode of Nicholas Temelcoff’s crossing of the Ocean on board the La Siciliana (it is interesting to point out that even though the boat is French it bears an Italian name) to get to Canada made me think at a very famous photograph by Alfred Stieglitz, entitled The Steerage (that many of you may already be familiar with). This photograph was taken by Stieglitz during America’s peak immigration year and it is a very expressive and moving record of this movement. For those interested in seeing it, I give you this link: www.leegallery.com/stieglitz.html (it is the first photograph on the page). If you have the time to do it, please go and take a look at it, it will really give you a visual image of what Nicholas Temelcoff’s experience on La Siciliana may have been.
2 comments:
I also enjoyed the story of Nicholas Temelcoff - having also read the Linda Hutcheon interview with Ondaatje i felt that Nicholas was in many ways the embodiment of the author's wish to 'tell the untold histories' of Canadians.
The fact that Ondaatje goes into such detail with Nicholas's character is testament of his desire to record the ex-centric. And i agree with Cornelia that this is also proof of his artistry.
One thing that I like about using a blog for our discussion is the way it has allowed people to use multimedia, by uploading images and video footage. It’s particularly apt for this novel with its many references to art and film and theatre and photography. (OK, some video footage of a western would also have worked nicely with Green Grass as well …)
What I notice about this passage you chose is the almost total absence of co-ordinating conjunctions (eg. ‘and’ or ‘but’; there are two instances of ‘and’). The choppy sentences give the sense that there is, as yet, no order in the new land for Temelcoff – the stripping naked and the removal of lice are presented one after the other (ie. it is not that they stripped naked in order to remove lice; that is what we have to infer). Nothing makes sense at first in a foreign country, and the language is unfamiliar (as other blog posts have investigated using other excerpts) and I think the language that Ondaatje employs here helps to make that point in its disjunctiveness.
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