Island

by Douglas Walbourne-Gough

Goose Lane | October, 2024 | $22

Reviewed by Maggie Burton

Island is an expression of the author’s complicated feelings about the island that is his home, and an urgent appeal to the inhabitants of Ktamqkuk to confront the tensions present in our current political moment. Walbourne-Gough narrates his experience from boyhood to the present moment as a mixed/adopted status member of the Qalipu Mi’kmaq First Nation in poems that “cement or undo my self-doubt.” Island is a refreshing, nuanced approach to a difficult conversation: one of power, identity, and privilege. One that considers our moral duties to ourselves and others.

Island is propelled by narrative that is rooted in core memories from a lifetime of self-exploration, of trying to make sense of one’s story. It offers evocative yet straightforward descriptions of the different settings of the poems. One setting is Toronto’s Caribou Club in “This All Happened? i.

relative perception”: “I’m in the room, can hear their words, the music,/smell tobacco smoke and sour beer.” The book is not unlike George Elliott Clarke’s Whylah Falls in its familial struggles and its mixed-genre approach or John Steffler’s The Grey Islands with its meditation on place and its inhabitants. More traditional narrative and lyrical poems exist alongside prose poems, screenshots and a quote that casts the mostly empty page as sky. The collection is bookended by direct insight into how the author approached the work and what motivations are behind it. It is prefaced by a brief, essay-like piece of prose titled “Division” about the Qalipu enrolment process, and in the acknowledgements it asks the reader: “What do you yearn for? What are you unwilling to feel?”. 

Letting go of shame, self-doubt, self-punishment are preoccupations of the speaker of these poems. Tensions between our understanding of the past and the supposed truth are often present, and sometimes it is a “hurt that was honest but never really true.” The recurring title “I Didn’t Just Let This Happen” links together seven prose poems about particular traumatic incidents that provoked shame, frustration, fear in the speaker. 

Island considers the poet’s role in understanding ourselves. From “Canada’s Happy Province”: “My heart is breaking and all I can offer/is living metaphor, lifting moose bone/and brook trout to the light, hoping/you see”. A subtle transformation occurs throughout the book, from a place of wild yearning to one of quiet acceptance. Two different visits from the grandfather contemplate the transformation. “These days, my dream moose are content to be/moose, and my grandfather visits as himself.” Through it all, the poet invites the reader to consider what roles we play in society as he considers his: “I’m occupying two spaces at once–colonizer/and colonized. I can’t seem to settle.” 

While many of the poems are situated on the west coast of the island, the narrator moves around seeking employment and education on the mainland, bringing the reader to Ontario, Alberta, and British Columbia. While away from home, he is mocked for being a Newfoundlander. Around Newfoundlanders, he is often subjected to bullying on the basis of race and class. Walbourne-Gough finds solace and belonging in family, and carries with him a deep desire to contribute something meaningful to the discussions about identity and place that surround him. The author brings the reader into the worlds of his community members, grandparents, aunties and uncles, parents, and peers. The imagery in Island brings together people and land. Dreams bleed into reality. Anxiety courses through both. There are moose on the highway, people are in danger, the Wolf is driving the car. 

Walbourne-Gough’s Island is a tremendous contribution to the Canadian poetic repertoire.

Maggie Burton is a Newfoundland writer, violinist, and municipal politician. Her debut book of poetry, Chores, won the 2024 Griffin Canadian First Book Prize and was shortlisted for the Gerald Lampert Memorial Award. Her work has appeared in PrismThe Malahat ReviewRiddle FenceRoomBest Canadian Poetry, and elsewhere.

 

January, 2025