Poetry. LGBT Studies. A hymn to a beloved lake, a praise poem in forty- five parts, a contemplation of landscape and memory. LAKE OF TWO MOUNTAINS, Arleen Pare's second poetry collection, is a portrait of a lake, of a relationship to a lake, of a network of relationships around a lake. It maps, probes and applauds the riparian region of central Canadian geography that liesPoetry. LGBT Studies. A hymn to a beloved lake, a praise poem in forty- five parts, a contemplation of landscape and memory. LAKE OF TWO MOUNTAINS, Arleen Pare's second poetry collection, is a portrait of a lake, of a relationship to a lake, of a network of relationships around a lake. It maps, probes and applauds the riparian region of central Canadian geography that lies between the Ottawa and the St. Lawrence Rivers. The poems portray this territory, its contested human presences and natural history: the 1990 Oka Crisis, Pleistocene shifts and dislocations, the feather-shaped Ile Cadieux, a Trappist monastery on the lake's northern shore. As we are drawn into experience of the lake and its environs, we also enter an intricate interleaving of landscape and memory, a reflection on how a place comes to inhabit us even as we inhabit it....
|Title||:||Lake of Two Mountains|
|Number of Pages||:||83 Pages|
|Status||:||Available For Download|
|Last checked||:||21 Minutes ago!|
Lake of Two Mountains Reviews
With full knowledge that some people (possibly more qualified than me) liked this book, here’s why it didn’t really do anything for me:1. CANADIAN. NATURE. POETRY. Except for very exceptional exceptions (am I allowed to use those two words together?), I just really don’t want to read any Canadian nature poetry ever again in my life. 2. I have no emotional connection to rural Ontario.3. Some parts of this collection made me feel like I was reading something that should have been titled “The Settler’s Lament.” 4. Also, God. I don’t care about God.See the full review at: http://caseythecanadianlesbrarian.wor...
vision doublesthe lake’s surface calmedtrees displaying roots into rootstheir upside-down selvestrees selves downside-upin the water where their rootstouch their roots a surfeit of calmredoubles the lake- More, pg. 6* * *My lake says the manwith the speedboatbecause his uncleonce owned a camp at Rigaud where the riverbreaks into the lakeGod’s lake saysFrere Gabriel ownswhatever He wantsand who wouldn’t want this particular lakeMy lake you sayand the lake of your sisterbecause your grandfatherand mother and auntsand your uncleonce owned the white house up the roadand you stayed every summerand swam every dayrain or shineOur lake says the Mohawksand the lake of our deadbecause they livedhere or near enough hereand died hereif not from time immemorialat least almost as longMy lake says the womanwho rents you the roomwho owns the patio chairsand the curved turquoise pooland the long windy fore-shoreperforming before youand the house like a rockor a deitywatching your backs- Whose Lake?, pg. 36-37* * *The lake is a woman who no longerlooks in the mirror. She lets her beard bristle,forced to overhear strangers rowing their boats.The lake breeds black bass in basements of muck, keeps armiesof frogs in the coves. Sometimesthe lake chokes in her sleep, wakingto bullfrogs, leopard frogs and green frogs.Leeches, pickerel, northern pike. All her lovescircle her waist. Though no longerthe chorus frog, whom she laments.In the middle, Sea-Doos, speedboats, tumble the lake,Carve up the waves. Late July, Montreal halts for two weeks.Police patrol shorelines.There’s a ferry to Oka all day.Near the shore, muskrat and foxes.Female mallards sit in the trees.Maple keys shrugAt the lake’s hem. She no longer keeps track.Once, barges for pelts and coniferous logs.Once, food smuggled on powerboatsFor the Mohawk behind the blockade.Beyond old,She turns ragged blue in high wind.Always heading somewhere downstream:Lachine, Lac St. Louis, the St. Lawrence,Montreal. Nearby, bordering the town of Ste.-Anne-de-Bellevue,Mafiosi inhabit their fortified homes.Mid-century, the chorus frogs abandoned the lake:harsh cold, the Seaway, fertilizers, tailings,a factory upstream. Their skin tingeda greyish-green tan,their rapturous piping, utterly lost.- Armies of Frogs, after Tim Lilburn’s “Slow World”, pg. 57* * *a bid keening in flightthe shape of a marsh hawk shadowwith malevolent wingsthe lake is benign now steadfastwhy imagine it flying awaysmall mammal heartin its beak- Things Change, pg. 72
It's quite obvious that Arleen Pare is an excellent writer, and I doubt anyone would question her skill with words. Overall, the collection was nice, but I did find that I had trouble really emotionally connecting to the lake itself or even backwoods Ontario. There were some standout poems - like the "Frere Gabriel's Life" series, the "Monastic Life" series, as well as "Oka Crisis" - but I found myself feeling quite meh in the end.I'll probably see what else Pare puts out in the future, but I think I've exhausted my interest in nature, lakes, and rural Ontario.
Read with my book club, and a very successful first poetry choice for many of them. Your mileage may vary, but I think there's something for almost everyone in here. For me, some of the lake imagery and the precise, incisive choice of language worked beautifully.
This is a collection of lovely, reflective poems of a Lake, its surroundings, and the relationships various people and places have to the lake. Where I feel this collection fell flat was in considering the Mohawk connection to the lake. Where Paré does attempt to touch on it, it comes across as her own lack of understanding. She really lost me in the poem “Oka Crisis” when she writes “No one knows how hate works. No one knows/why the Mohawk/don’t own the land.” I’m pretty sure the Mohawk people have an idea.
Lake of Two Mountains, Arleen Paré‘s 2014 Governor General’s Award winning poetry collection celebrating/lamenting lifetimes of summers on the shores and waters of Quebec’s Lac des Deux Montagnes at the confluence of the Ottawa and the St. Lawrence, a stone’s throw from Montréal, did not grab me with every poem. Many poems definitely did grab me. But none grabbed me quite as strongly as “Distance Closing In”, the first poem of the cycle. Rather than discussing the entire book, I will devote my attention to this single poem.This devotion to a single poem should by no means be construed as a dismissal of the rest of the cycle: Lake of Two Mountains is a poetic tour de force, a magically varied study of years and generations of life in family and in solitude. Only two things could do justice to the entire slim book: a much thicker book of close reading and analysis, or, more obviously, get the book and read it yourself, out loud, over the course of days and weeks, making notes if you like. I did the second one because I’m lazy. But I’m going to try to do a bit of a close reading of “Distance Closing In”. . . .(read the rest of my "review" here: https://behindthehedge.wordpress.com/...)
One of the main draws to the cottage is the lake. These poems touch the essence of that experiencefrom "Dad in the Lake" to "Older Aunt" and "Uncle Bobby" but also wider, to where the lake ripples into the spiritual prose poems of Frere Gabriel in a Trappist sanctuary at the lake's edge andwider to the political, with the Oka Crisis. "The lake is a woman who no longer looks in the mirror" and "the lake lifts small pewter washes in rows of applause" are some of the gems in this beautifully crafted collection. and the reminder that the lake is an entity, "there is goodness/ there are ghosts moving/ faster than wind." This is the ever-changingness captured and set on the page to read. reread, and savour. It draws you back into reflection.
We take way too many things for granted in our busy lives. Work, school, family and so on demand our attention that we ignore simple features that exist in our neighbourhoods. But Arleen Paré has noted the lakes near her and has recorded her observations in her poetry collection Lake of Two Mountains and has given us something to ponder in our own environs.http://tinyurl.com/p3j98vr
I don't often read books of poetry, but I wasn't disappointed with this one. I don't know how to describe it except to say it was very Canadian, and beautiful. Made me pine for lakeside summers or monastic living. Read for the 2016 FABclub Challenge, #3: A Collection of Poetry.