Sex and Violence in the Canadian Novel by John Moss (review)

Reviews 193 Pope’s sacrificial offering at the end of the novel, the ambiguous balance of cultural gains and losses in the uprising is nicely suggested. Given the sparsity of historical knowledge about the period, including the deceptive (because self-protective) nature of Spanish official reports, Blacker appears to have portrayed the conflict accurately. The historian may question some of Blacker’s liberties with fact, but his additions and omissions serve good fictional purpose and do not distort the central situation. He naturally creates many characters and events to suggest the texture of settlement life, including one fictional pueblo (Santa Flora) which is used to illustrate interestingly the effect of corruption among the priests. The historian might wish the character of Pope more fully developed and that Luis Tupatu of Picuris be given the central position he held historically, but the full development of Juan’s character probably serves Blacker’s purpose more effectively here. In order to emphasize Pueblo Indian strength, Blacker also virtually removes the Apache involvement in the uprising. Otermin is probably treated more generously than most historians would allow, and the clerical-military antagonisms among the Spaniards (which seem to me the crucial backdrop for the whole situation) are somewhat understated. All in all. Blacker wrote a skillfully crafted and informative narrative about one of the most interesting events in New Mexican history. Although the invitation to melodramatic excess is certainly there in the historical facts, Blacker’s restraint produced a novel of enjoyment and value for any student of the American West. RICHARD MOSELEY, West Texas State University Sex and Violence in the Canadian Novel. By John Moss. (Toronto: McClelland &Stewart, 1977. 362 pages, index, $6.95.) Canadian historians and literary critics have too often been guilty of navel gazing, expending excessive time and energy trying to determine the distinctively “Canadian” in our culture. John Moss has largely avoided this pitfall with an approach that is in keeping with Frye’s definition of Canada. Northrope Frye, the guru of the Canadian literary scene for the past two decades, has defined Canada as “a place where something has happened.” Since Canada lacks a distinctive ethnic identity and a national mythology, it follows that identity must lie in the relationship between the people, the events and the land. In studying this relationship, Frye, Atwood and other critics have highlighted the themes of survival, of isola­ tion, of emptiness that recur in our literature. In Sex and Violence in the Canadian Novel, John Moss, author of Patterns of Isolation, one of the most penetrating and convincing studies of Canadian fiction that has yet been done, has chosen to study two aspects of life intimately associated with 194 Western American Literature identity, sex and violence, perhaps a reflection of our “national preoccupation with identity.” Moss outlines his thesis in this way: “During this con­ temporary or post-modern era, the Canadian novel has coalesced into an imposing representative of our national community in world literature, distinguished as a whole by its apparent affinity for sex and violence, particularly as they are related to divers matters of identity.” (p. 5) The first chapter explores the connection between sex and violence and identity, a connection which translates into “themes and forms of fiction.” The book studies these two aspects in depth — the theme of violence and sex— and the structures that these give rise to in particular authors and novels. Thematically, sex and violence are studied under the following head­ ings: initial sexual experiences of adolescents, sexual roles in society, religious upbringing and its influence on sexual attitudes, sexual triangles, asceticism, pornography, homosexuality and humor. In each case, a particular author or novel is studied and comparisons and contrasts established with other writers already discussed. Particularly good, I feel, is the chapter on “Rites of Passage,” a discussion of works portraying the passage from childhood to maturity: short stories such as Metcalf’s “The Teeth of my Father,” and novels such as Kroetsch’s Gone Indian. Another noteworthy chapter deals with Alice Munro’s Lives of Girls and Women, the story of Del Jordan’s “rite of passage” to maturity. Concerning this novel Moss writes: “Munro’s vision so readily assimilates...