Newsletter
April/Avril 2007

Editorial - Annual Meeting - News from the Chapters: Vancouver - AADAS - ALCS Conference - From the Journals: Flanders - Septentrion - BOOK REVIEW: Marianne Brandis: Frontiers and Sanctuaries: A Woman’s Life in Holland and Canada.

Editorial
by basil kingstone


NOTICE OF CONSTITUTIONAL AMENDMENT to be discussed at the annual business meeting in Saskatoon on May 26. (The timetable of the whole conference is in this issue). At present CAANS officers are elected for two years and may be re-elected once. Herman van Wermeskerken has proposed “to allow any president a third or fifth year of tenure for good reason.” I hereby announce this proposal one month before the meeting, as the constitution requires. The amendment needs a two-thirds majority of those present and voting.
See you there!


CAANS/ACAEN
Annual meeting, 26 - 27 May 2007
Room COMM 12, University of Saskatchewan

Saturday 26 May
9.00 President’s words of welcome
9.15 - 9.45 Augustinus Dierick (University of Toronto): “Andriessen, Vestdijk, Wittgenstein: Music and the Ineffable.”
9.45 - 10.15 Mary Eggermont (Calgary): “2007 P.C. Hooft prizewinner Maarten Biesheuvel in Canada in 1992.”
10.15 - 10.45 Coffee
10.45 - 11.15 Linda Feldman (University of Windsor): “‘In the land of guilty memories:’ Jews and Muslims in Ian Buruma’s Murder in Amsterdam.”
11.15 - 11.45 Gerrit Gerrits (Acadia University): “Clara Feyoena van Raesfelt, a late 18th-century (amateur) classicist.”
11.45 - 13.15 Lunch
13.15 - 13.45 Beert Verstraete (Acadia University): “The defence of Epicureanism in Erasmus’ Colloquies: from the Banquet Colloquies to the Epicureus.”
13.45 - 14.45 Hermina Joldersma (University of Calgary): “De stede, the 1475 Flemish translation of Christine de Pizan’s Cité des dames.”
14.45 - 15.15 Coffee
15.15 - 16.45 Annual business meeting
19.00 dinner (place to be announced)

Sunday May 27

9.15 - 10.15 Guest speaker: Ton Hagen (Katholieke Universiteit Nijmegen): “Gaat de Nederlandse standardtaal door?”
10.15 - 10.45 Coffee
10.45 - 11.15 Ingrid Steiner (Waterloo): The cultural heritage of Dutch and Swiss emigrants to Canada.
11.15 - 11.45 Timothy Nyhof (Dutch-Canadian Society of Manitoba): The Dutch Catholic settlement in Plumas, MB
11.45 - 12.15 Michiel Horn (York University): The trials of literary translation (Dutch-English).

NEWS FROM CHAPTERS

VANCOUVER

In November hadden we weer het grote genoegen om Ingeborg van Driel hier naar toe te lokken uit het koude en verre Calgary, om voor ons weer een van haar enorm geslaagde en doordachte talencauserieën te houden. Hier is het verslag van haar laatste lezing:

“Goed geboerd – Een reflectie van het boerenleven in de Nederlandse taal”

Zo'n 5000 jaar voor Christus vestigden de eerste 'landbouwers' zich in oostelijke delen van het gebied dat nu Nederland heet. Het woord 'boer' (Bauer; (land)(be)bouwer; buur; neighbour) valt te herleiden tot een Indogermaanse werkwoord voor 'zijn' (ben(nen)/wezen; Engels 'to be'): wonen, verblijven op een vaste plaats. De 'boerenstand' heeft als geen andere bevolkingsgroep zijn stempel op de Nederlandse taal gedrukt: onze taal wemelt van directe referenties aan het agraries heden en verleden. Een willekeurige kleine greep: werkwoord: (goed) boeren; voor de boer komen; bijvoegelijk naamwoord: boerig, boers; samenstellingen: hereboer; (venter/handelaar:) groenteboer/kaasboer/schillenboer, etc.; boerenbedrog; boerenbont; boerenbruiloft, boerendozijn, etc. scheldwoorden: boer, boerenheikneuter, boerenhufter; boerenpummel, boerenvlegel; boerentrut, boerentrien; gerechten/dranken: boerenjongens, boerenmeisjes, boerenkool, boerenkoffie, boerenzweet; planten: boerenkers, boerenknoop, boerentabak; dieren: boerenmus, boerenzwaluw; weerspreuken: Januari zonder regen brengt de boeren zegen; Zwoele mei, boerengeschrei; uitdrukkingen/spreekwoorden/gezegden: Hij is een boertje van but'n; Rood (Blauw) met groen is boerenfatsoen; De domste boeren hebben de dikste aardappels; Als een boer niet kan zwemmen ligt het aan het water; Lachen als een boer met kiespijn; Boeren en varkens worden knorrend vet; "Veel geschreeuw en weinig wol", zei de boer en schoor zijn varken kaal; etc.

Het is merkwaardig dat het grote historische en economische belang van de Nederlandse boerengemeenschap niet weerspiegeld wordt in onze moedertaal: geen Nederlandse beroepsgroep wordt verbaal zo vermaledijt als de boer. Men kan zich afvragen waarom in deze tijd van 'politiek correct' taalgebruik 'de agrarier' zich niet aansluit bij andere bevolkingsgroepen die tegen negatieve betekenisconnotaties ten strijde te trekken. "Wat de boer (nog) niet kent dat eet ie niet"? Of: "Als de boeren niet meer klagen en de pastoors niet meer vragen, nadert het einde der dagen"?

PS: Kort na het bovenstaande praatje las ik in de NRC van 13 November 2006 de column Dag van Frits Abrahams. In zijn nostalgisch verslag van een voetbalwedstrijd meldde hij: "Vijf minuten nadat … joelde het brutaalste deel van het Ajax-publiek naar de gasten uit Eindhoven: "kankerboeren". 'Boer-bashing' terminologie blijft productief …

Op donderdag 14 december 2006 sprak voor ons Dr. Pieter Moogk over "How the Blue-and-White 'Delft' Tile became a Symbol of Dutch Identity". Hier volgt zijn verslag:

There is hardly a Dutch home today without blue-and-white decorative tiles. Modern tiles are mementoes of family history, travel, historic events, regional pride and they express nostalgia for Holland's past. Although popularly known as "Delft tiles," before 1800 they were produced in several towns: Rotterdam, Delft, Gouda, Haarlem, Utrecht, Amsterdam, Harlingen and Makkum. This most Netherlandic of objects resulted from the convergence of foreign influences. The first was the brightly-painted, tin-glazed earthenware known as Majolica, which spread from Spain to Italy and from there to the cosmopolitan city of Antwerp. The Eighty Years War drove Antwerp's potters into the northern Netherlands in the late 1500s, taking their techniques with them.

House builders in the thriving cities of the northern provinces saw the practical advantages of glazed wall tiles. Tiles kept walls free of mould and mildew, despite the rising damp from a high water table. Tiles around fireplaces also facilitated the cleaning of sooty walls.

Dutch tiles made in 1580-1620 perpetuated Italianate colour schemes and subject matter [geometrical patterns, flowers, birds, animals, fish, putti, and mythological figures]. These designs were rendered in yellow, orange, green and deep blue.

Direct trade with China in the early 1600s introduced blue-and-white porcelain to Netherlanders. Local potters copied the Chinese colour scheme as well as the border decoration and subject matter. Chinaware inspired the blue-and-white tile. New subject matter made the tiles truly Dutch: on a white background decorators drew vignettes of everyday life, some inspired by popular engravings. Seventeenth and eighteenth century tiles are social history documents, recording such things as children's games, street vendors, soldiers' drill and women's fashions. Tiles illustrated marine technology, and trading ships were of particular interest. In the 1700s, when farmers replaced townsfolk as the principal buyers of tiles, biblical subjects became dominant.

We admire the artistry of some decorators, but tiles were mass produced. 13 cm by 13 cm was the standard size. Perforated pattern sheets called "sponsen" allowed rapid duplication of compositions. There were three grades of tile: skillfully decorated ones for public rooms, simply decorated kitchen tiles, and, finally, the coarse "wrakke tegels" used in cellars. Decorative tiles from 1600-1820 are an inexpensive field for antique collectors, but it helps to know how to distinguish original tiles from later copies. Designs from the Golden Age were copied in later centuries and they continue to be reproduced. Modern products have precise (and sometimes non-standard) dimensions and perfectly smooth surfaces rarely seen in old tiles.

Here are some tips for determining age. The tiles' thickness diminished over time from about 12 mm in the 1580s to 8 mm in the late 1700s. The addition of chalk marl to the potters' clay caused the unglazed body's colour to evolve from brick red to sandy brown and, in modern tiles, to cream or white. Seventeenth-century decorators used cobalt blue to paint on the glazed, white surface. In the early 1700s the blue shifted to violet and, with the later use of manganese oxide, became almost black. Corner decoration helps in identifying the time of manufacture and the city where the tile was made. For example, in the early 1600s Rotterdam's tile decorators used the stylized lily as a corner decoration and quatrefoil frames for their vignettes. Books by Hans Lemmen and Ella Schaap provide more clues for verifying a tile's age and determining its place of origin.

The speaker and those at the meeting brought examples of tiles from their own collections for comparison and discussion.

Op 11 januari sprak voor ons Dr. Jacques Pauwels over de "BETEKENIS EN GESCHIEDENIS VAN DE NAAM BELGIË". Hier volgt zijn verslag:

Elk land heeft een naam, maar van zijn betekenis hebben de brave burgers dikwijls geen flauw benul. Welke fiere Spanjaard weet bijvoorbeeld dat "Spanje" de betekenis heeft van "Konijnenland"? Met Nederland is het anders gesteld, aan die naam is er niets raadselachtigs. "Nederland", dat is het "Lage Land", het Lage Land bij de Noordzee, wel te verstaan. Met de term "Lage Landen" bedoelt men echter ook heel dikwijls de drie Benelux-Landen. In de Zestiende Eeuw, ten tijde van Keizer Karel, vormde dit drietal op staatkundig vlak een geheel, bekend als "de Nederlanden". Het eerste deel van die naam verwees naar de geografische ligging nabij de monding van grote stromen zoals de Rijn. De Oorlog tegen Spanje bracht een scheiding teweeg, en de naam "Nederlanden" werd voortaan steeds meer gebruikt voor het onafhankelijke Noorden, heden bekend als "Nederland", in het enkelvoud, maar officieel nog steeds het "Koninkrijk de Nederlanden" in het meervoud. Het Zuiden stond bekend als de "Zuidelijke", of "Spaanse" – en later "Oostenrijkse" – Nederlanden. Toen dit Zuidelijke gebied na een korte tijdelijke hereniging der Nederlanden (1814-1830) een onafhankelijke staat ging vormen, had het een naam nodig. Het werd "België", maar hoeveel Belgen weten dat die naam werd gekozen omdat het Latijnse Belgica (of Belgium) in de Zestiende eeuw door de Humanisten werd gebruikt als geleerd synoniem voor "Nederlanden"? De betekenis van "België" is dus niets anders dan "Nederland", pardon: "Nederlanden".

De term Belgica was al oeroud toen hij voor het eerst kwam opduiken in Caesars De Bello Gallico. Hij stamt uit een van de zogenaamde "substraattalen" die zowat overal in Europa werden gesproken vooraleer de sprekers van Indo-Europese talen ten tonele verschenen. En de betekenis van die naam was heel waarschijnlijk niets anders dan…"laag land", "land nabij de zee", m.a.w.: "Nederland"!

Doeshka Timmer (secretaresse)

Op 8 februari vond onze Jaarvergadering plaats. Het nieuwe bestuur werd met algemene stemmen aangenomen: Annette Dorrepaaal -voorzitster; Saskia Stomps -secretaresse; Rene Mutsaerts -penningmeester; Richard Unger -programma coordinator; Doeshka Timmer -medelid. Daarna werd een film vertoont:"Across the Atlantic".

[The speaker in March, Dr. Christine Göttler, did not provide the chapter with a summary of her paper, so the editor of this newsletter will attempt a brief one on the basis of her text, which Saskia kindly sent me. Her topic was an art form popular in Italy in the counter-Reformation period, designed to promote meditation about death and the hereafter: coloured wax images of faces expressing extreme emotions, representing a soul in Hell, one in Purgatory and one in Paradise, the whole set being mounted in glass-sided boxes of dark wood. These figures were often based on engravings and emblems in books published in Antwerp.]

Saskia Stomps, secretaresse


AADAS
Their spring 2007 issue gives the program of their biennial meeting at Hope College in Michigan on June 6 - 9. The Joint Archives there have acquired a collection of letters from soldiers who fought in the Gulf War in 1990-91, and a large stash of periodicals about boating (Holland, MI has a long history of building pleasure boats and messing about in them). Central College is entering material into the Geisler Library’s online catalogue, notably the H. P. Scholte papers. The archives at Heritage Hall, Calvin College, continue to amass Christian Reformed Church material, notably the papers of Pete Steen, “a philosopher and educator who ... was part of the effort to establish what is now the Institute for Christian Studies in Toronto.” There is also a book review of George Harinck and Hans Krabbendam, eds.: Morsels in the melting pot: the persistence of Dutch immigrant communities in North America (Amsterdam: VU University Press).



ALCS CONFERENCE
The theme of the 7th ALCS biennial conference is “Beyond borders, the Dutch-speaking world in times of globalization and (trans-)nationalism.” It will be held at the University of Nottingham in England on January 4 - 5, 2008. Details can be had from nicola-mclelland@nottingham.ac.uk, and the deadline to submit 300-word abstracts of proposed papers, to that address, is July 31st.

FROM THE JOURNALS

FLANDERS

Issue 72 (Dec. ‘06 - Jan.-Feb. ‘07) is the last one; this very informative review is ceasing publication. Budget cuts, no doubt. However, the kind of information it gives will henceforth be available on http://www.flanders.be Not for the first time, this issue features a pop singer on the cover. Her professional name is Axelle Red; born in Hasselt, she has made her career in France, like other Belgian singers before her, and has been made a Chevalier de l’Ordre des Arts. She is also a goodwill ambassador for UNICEF. Hers is but one of the arts featured in this issue, You can now view masterpieces of Flemish art from several Flemish museums online, and order prints, from an image bank, http://www.lukasweb.be (It will be recalled that St. Luke is the patron saint of painters and sculptors). Contemporary art will be added soon. In the theatre, the Flemish actor Jan Decleir began his career in the 1970s. He spent ten years doing monologues, often using texts by Dario Fo, before joining the young Blauwe Maandag company; he has also starred in many great films - among them De Leeuw van Vlaanderen, Daans and Karakter - often working with his good friend Hugo Claus. Fashion counts among the arts, and Flemish designers are prominent; this issue looks at family-owned houses (Essentiel, Gigue, American Outfitters).

As usual, other businesses are also featured. Metris, a spinoff company from KU Leuven, provides software to make constant measurements of position in space for automotive and aerospace assembly. Egemin, based in Zwijndrecht, designs robots and other devices which ensure the smooth flow of items in assembly lines; they have 8000 companies as customers. Both companies undoubtedly contribute to Flanders’ standing as one of the greatest exporting regions in the world; most exports go to neighbouring countries, but there is a healthy rise in Belgian beer sales in the US. If Antwerp is the chief port for export, the port of Ghent is developing a specialty in ethanol made from corn and other crops and eventually, it is hoped, waste organic material including waste paper. Several companies are working together so that the whole production process takes place on one site. It is an outward-looking attitude, the same one as has led the Flemish government to establish an office in Brussels to represent its regional interests to the EU - some 200 other regions already have one - and to do more to recruit foreign students to Flemish universities (over 5,000 at present) via various international agreements



SEPTENTRION
En tête du nº 4 de 2006, on trouve l’auteur Aron Grunberg (né en 1971). À son avis, il faut écrire pour distraire les gens de leur misère en créant l’illusion que les héros des romans existent réellement, pour que le lecteur s’identifie à eux. C’est vrai que la vie des personnages de Grunberg est tout aussi misérable, mais ils s’échappent vers des mondes de fantaisie, et le récit de leurs mésaventures est hilarant. On nous offre des extraits de ses oeuvres, de même que de Saskia de Coster (née en 1976), qui dépeint dans Eeuwige roem (2006) la société moderne régie par la chasse au succès.

Pour les autres arts, il y a un survol du travail des “Architectes du gouvernement,” poste qui existe aux Pays-Bas, avec des interruptions, depuis 1806. Longtemps, la tâche de ces chefs a été de concevoir les bureaux de l’État (universités, ministères...), mais depuis 50 ans ce sont plutôt des conseillers sur des questions d’aménagement des espaces publics. La Flandre s’est dotée du même service il y a quelques années; il n’existe dans aucun autre pays. Puis on nous présente l’artiste Mark Manders (né en 1961). On peut dire qu’il expose sa vie privée en public, mais d’abord il prétend faire ainsi le portrait d’un artiste fictif qui partage le même nom, et ensuite il le fait en rassemblant des objets hétéroclites censés révéler la caractère de ce personnage, comme les actes d’un personnage de roman.

Autre centenaire: Pierre Bayle est mort en 1706. Ce philosophe français protestant, chassé par Louis XV, ne s’est jamais senti à l’aise aux Pays-Bas, bien qu’il ait pu s’y réfugier. À part les trois années exténuantes qu’il a consacrées à fonder et rédiger les Nouvelles de la République des Lettres - ancêtre de la revue savante moderne - et un poste d’enseignement qu’il a perdu pour raisons théologiques, il a dû vivre de presque rien et s’est enfermé dans son cabinet à étudier et à écrire, notamment son Dictionnaire historique et critique, ancêtre de l’encyclopédie. Il y attaque les théologiens sectaires et prêche la tolérance, louant Érasme et ses descendants spirituels. Bref, c’est un philosophe que nous avons intérêt à relire, aujourd’hui plus que jamais.

Mais c’est là supposer que le public s’intéresse à l’histoire de la philosophie. Il s’intéresse à l’histoire, certes, mais la culture populaire change l’image qu’il en a. De ces concours à la télévision pour choisir le plus grand Néerlandais, Flamand,Wallon etc., on peut conclure que le grand public pense plutôt à l’histoire récente et à celle que nous croyons nous avoir formés: familiale, locale, régionale, ou celle de notre religion ou ethnie. L’histoire nationale, qu’on nous a enseigné à l’école (et qu’on parle d’y enseigner encore davantage), nous intéresse peu.

Au XIXe siècle, par contre, en pleine ferveur nationaliste, l’histoire nationale a dû sembler très importante aux citoyens des Pays-Bas (unifiés ou pas). Témoin les nombreuses statues dont on parle dans ce numéro, érigées alors sur les places des villes aux grands hommes du passé; Ambiorix, qui a massacré une légion de Jules César (qui a riposté en exterminant sa tribu); Jacques d’Artevelde de Gand, qui a battu les Français en 1340 (acquérant ainsi une liberté qui s’est assez vite effritée); Guillaume le Taciturne, Rubens, Michiel de Ruyter, Jan Frans Willems (père du Mouvement flamand en littérature), et Thorbecke, l’homme d’État. Et Multatuli aussi, mais cette statue-là, très frappante, est toute moderne.


Le numéro 1 de 2007 affiche de nouveaux changements dans son apparence: c’est que sa soeur aînée, la revue néerlandophone Ons Erfdeel, en a fait autant pour marquer son 50e anniversaire. D’où la couverture, rose à la p.1, rouge aux pp.2-3, et jaune et vert au dos. Le numéro est aussi un peu plus grand que d’habitude, laissant la place qu’il faut à son thème: l’identité. Nous félicitons la rédaction d’avoir réussi cette gageure de créer un numéro au contenu fort varié mais relié par cette corde rouge.

C’est en effet le cinquantenaire, non seulement de Ons Erfdeel, mais aussi de l’Institut néerlandais à Paris, dont la cérémonie d’ouverture est évoquée ici. Tous deux se consacrent, bien entendu, à la tâche de faire connaître dans un pays la culture d’un autre. Täche sans doute permanente. Même à l’intérieur de la Belgique, pour des raisons linguistiques, un tel travail est nécessaire. Justement, deux articles examinent la “couverture” de la Wallonie par les médias flamands et vice versa. La première est mauvaise, mais nombre de journaux et chaînes de télévision flamands cherchent maintenant à mieux informer les gens, ne se contentant plus de signaler seulement les accidents sanguinolents de la route et les scandales politiques de “l’autre côté.” La presse francophone - donc bruxelloise, car la wallonne est d’intérêt purement local - est plus ouverte, mais même là, on aimerait voir plus d’enquêtes de fond sur la Flandre.

On voit bien que culture et langue sont enchevêtrés. Ce numéro offrait donc le moment de renouveler la correspondance, entamée il y a dix ans, entre l’auteur québécois Gilles Pellerin et l’auteur néerlandophone Stefan Hertmans sur l’identité culturelle et nationale, et sur le rôle essentiel là-dedans de la langue, tous deux sentant la leur menacée par la globalisation implicite dans l’usage des ordinateurs.

Le Salon du Livre à Paris, tenu du 23 au 27 mars, devait honorer quatre auteurs néerlandais: Anna Enquist, Willem Jan Otten, Arnon Grunberg et Geert Mak. Les deux premiers sont discutés dans ce numéro. La première a commencé sa carrière littéraire à 46 ans et, nouveau changement, son quatrième roman est dans un sous-genre en vogue depuis quinze ans: le récit de la femme méconnue d’un personnage historique. Il s’agit d’Élisabeth Cook, épouse de l’explorateur. Celui-ci faisait l’objet de trois poèmes de notre auteure, il y a dix bonnes années déjà, et on nous en offre deux ici, avec un extrait du roman, en version française. Le mari si souvent absent connaît-il à fond le caractère et les forces de sa femme?

Willem Jan Otten, qui a gagné le prix littéraire Huygens à l’âge fort jeune (pour un tel prix) de 48 ans, répondrait peut-être en affirmant ce qu’il avance dans ses premières oeuvres: on ne peut savoir le vrai caractère d’un autre, il faut respecter sa partie énigmatique, car toute approche qu’on essaie pour le comprendre le fait disparaître. Ensuite, Otten a abordé la question de savoir si nous choisissons notre vie et notre mort ou si elle nous sont imposées. Les deux sont vrais, a-t-il conclu: nous créons les forces qui nous créent (lire: Dieu). C’est là le sujet de son dernier roman, dont la version française, La mort sur le vif, va sortir chez Gallimard; nous en lisons ici un extrait.

Les thèmes de l’identité et de l’impossibilité de la connaître reviennent dans un article sur le peintre Léon Spilliaert. Il a peint une longue suite d’autoportraits faits dans son intérieur, où il semble comme pris dans sa vie bourgeoise et angoissé par ce fait. Ou bien, l’angoisse vient de ce qu’il se scrute dans le miroir à la recherche de son caractère, de son noyau, et trouve un vide. L’identité n’existe-t-elle donc pas? Ah si, répondrait la célèbre généticienne Christine van Broeckhoven. Si elle lutte si fort pour que la recherche sur la maladie d’Alzheimer soit décemment subventionnée en Belgique, c’est que, dit-elle, “si le cerveau se réduit, c’est ton identité qui se ratatine. et sans identité, nous ne sommes plus des êtres humains.” Elle lutte aussi pour la participation des femmes à la recherche scientifique.

Deux articles tout au plus arrivent peut-être à s’échapper du double thème de l’identité et de l’inconnaissable. Les oeuvres de David van Reybrouck, archéologue et journaliste, sont plutôt tournées vers l’extérieur. Elles combinent toujours une aventure et un arrière-fond social: une éclipse du soleil en Zambie et le gâchis politique qui y règne; le degré auquel Maeterlinck a plagié l’auteur sud-africain Eugene Marais et la lutte de ce pays pour se définir. Reybrouck est d’ailleurs revenu à ce dernier thème dans une pièce de théâtre qui porte le titre du livre supposément plagié de Marais, Die siel van die mier, mais le lieu de l’action est le Congo ex-belge et il y est question du rongement des termites - et du remords. Un retour vers l’intérieur de l’homme?

Et puis on peut supposer que deux hommes qui ont réussi dans un commerce où la concurrence est féroce, seraient strictement pratiques et n’auraient pas le temps de considérer notre thème. Mais il s’agit des grands couturiers Viktor et Rolf, et voilà qu’ils disent: “La mode est un rêve, quelque chose d’insaisissable.”

BOOK REVIEW
Marianne Brandis: Frontiers and Sanctuaries: A Woman’s Life in Holland and Canada. Montreal & Kingston, London, Ithaca: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2006. [415 pp. Illustrations, Index, Appendices]

In 1947 Madzy Brender à Brandis, her husband Wim (Bill) and their three children emigrated from Holland to Canada. They settled on a farm in Terrace, in what was then a remote area of B. C. Madzy, who had already written some short stories in Holland, eventually sat down to write about her own experiences, and about the problems of emigration in general, in a book entitled Land for Our Sons (1958), later translated into Dutch as Land voor onze zonen. The book, intended for her family and for prospective emigrants, paints a generally accurate but somewhat overly optimistic picture of these pioneer years, and although it is personal and even ‘chatty’ in tone, it reveals little about the true personality of the author.

We now have a full-blown biography of Madzy Brandis by her daughter Marianne, herself an accomplished author of a considerable number of publications. , including an autobiography entitled Finding Words: A Writer’s Memoir. It reveals a far more complex and richer personality than that which emerges from the book chronicling the Brandis family’s pioneer years. And although the theme of emigration looms large in Marianne Brandis’ book also, it was clearly the desire to treat other, perhaps more powerful themes in her mother’s life and work that influenced her decision to write her mother’s biography. To be sure, in Marianne’s reading Madzy Brandis, as one among thousands of immigrants from Holland to Canada, does not fail to assumes a representative role: “ ‘her story is part of Canadian history … It is also part of Dutch history.’’” The scope of this biography, however, goes well beyond the theme of emigration, and gives it a much more universal appeal: “Hers is a story of survival through war, terror, and near starvation, a gruelingly hard pioneer existence, physical handicaps, and chronic pain. It is a story of an intensely creative personality interacting with those limitations . . .” (xiv)

Marianne Brandis chronicles this life in meticulous (at times a little overwhelming) detail. What enables her to provide such a wealth of information about Madzy’s life and about her writing is the fact that she was fortunate enough to have access not only to her mother’s publications, but also to her extensive collection of letters, diaries, sketches and notes, even recorded tapes from the 1970s. In addition, Madzy’s husband Bill contributed his own account of events particularly during the period of his absence in a prisoner-of-war camp, and further information was supplied by the children, Gerard, Jock, and of course Marianne herself. Madzy’s own memoirs feedenable Brandis’ detailed account of Madzy’s early life, from her relatively carefree childhood as a daughter of an East Indies administrator who became managing director of the Bank of the Netherlands, to her days as a student of law at the University of Leiden. Trips to foreign countries (Switzerland, England, Norway) broaden her horizon, while conflicts with her rather strict and class-conscious mother provide an early indication of her independent spirit.

Even in this early phase Madzy had begun to experiment with writing, and some short pieces were published in student papers. Plans to go to the East Indies came to naught when she became engaged to Wim (Bill). They married and settled in the neighbourhood of New York where Bill, who had planned a career in agriculture but lacked a university degree, worked in a branch office of a grain importing firm based in Rotterdam. It is this period that introduced Madzy to the problems of culture shock and foreshadowed her later experiences in Canada. The couple in fact briefly visited Quebec: it left an idyllic impression which partly influenced their later decision to emigrate to Canada.

When the danger of war became evident in 1939 Bill, a reserve officer in the Durch army’s field artillery, applied for a position in active service as cavalry officer. He was accepted, and he and Madzy returned home. They were therefore in Holland at the outbreak of hostilities. When the Dutch army, outdated and ill equipped, was quickly defeated by the overwhelmingly superior Germans, Bill was sent to a German POW camp, leaving Madzy to fend for herself and her little family. (In later years Bill provided a factual and helpful account of his experiences in thecamp).

It is in the war diary, which Madzy kept in anticipation of Bill’s return, that we find the most fascinating and at times very moving pages of Brandis’ biography. Both in the extended passages relating the daily dangers, hopes and fears, rumours and frustrations, and in the sensitive comments provided by Brandis herself, we get a real sense of the drama of war as it affects ordinary lives. We hear of the presence of resistance fighters in the neighbourhood, but also of collaborators, of frequent bombings and constant concerns about the acquisition of food. As Brandis comments, Madzy describes all this strictly from a personal point of view and does not attempt to inscribe the private experience into a more general historical context. Madzy’s strength lies in her power of observation, of and this allows her to use the material she used later in stories and reminiscences.

The final days of the war climax in the episode which Madzy also described in Land for Our Sons as a kind of epiphany, and as one of the prime reasons for the subsequent decision to emigrate to Canada. On the point of complete exhaustion from starvation she is saved by a handout from Canadian soldiers. Because of this act, and because of the liberation of Holland by the Canadians, the Brandises felt that there was a special debt to be repaid. Moreover, apart from the fact that it might provide better opportunities for a new start, Canada, being a new country, also needed people like them in order to realize its full potential. This is a motif one does not often find in Canadian immigrant literature: Tthe conviction that one has a personal contribution to make to the new homeland, and that the task of building a new country can be shared among outsiders and natives, each with their own special skills, energy and experience, is relatively rare.

For this reviewer it was also a revelation to discover the sense of insecurity and malaise that was felt by people living in immediate post-war Holland. Fear of another war and a sense of despair explain why at least a number of Dutch people were willing to leave behind relatively comfortable and regulated lives within traditional family contexts behind them and embark on what was a journey into the unknown. As undoubtedly for many emigrants, for the Brandis family the years in Terrace were difficult: homesickness is a theme that frequently occurs in Madzy’s private writings, though publicly, and in the columns that she was later to write for Dutch-Canadian newspapers, an optimistic tone is maintained. The bonds with Holland remained strong, but the putting-down of roots in Canada is clearly demonstrated by the fact that in the 1950s, in Vancouver, both Madzy and Bill obtained university degrees.

A subsequent move to Antigonish, in Nova Scotia, brought Madzy into contact with the Antigonish Movement, and led to her being employed as librarian of the Extension Department at St. Francis Xavier University. Her emigrant experience stood her in good stead here, but she became discouraged by the unwillingness of some of the settlers to learn to integrate into the community.

Another move, like the previous ones determined by Bill’s career opportunities, brought the family to Burlington, Ontario, and to some extent ‘back into civilization.’ Doubts as to whether they had made a mistake in leaving Vancouver now seemed at least partially resolved, for in this area there might again be greater opportunities for the children. Indeed, from now on the children’s lives are given more prominence in Brandis’ narrative. At the same time there is also a subtle shift in the treatment of the subject of her biography. With the onset of rheumatoid arthritis during the final years in Terrace, Madzy’s world had begun to be more restricted and writing had gradually become an outlet for her creative – and emotional – impulses. If Canada in the immediate post-war period had been seen very much as a safe haven, it is writing which now becomes Madzy’s sanctuary, all the more since most of her writings have an autobiographical thrust. This theme Brandis develops with great sensitivity and insight; there are a number of ‘meditations’ on the nature and meaning of (auto)biographical writing which help to clarify not only Madzy’s project, but that of Marianne Brandis herself.

This is not to say that the dichotomy Canada/Holland does not remain a pervasive motif: Madzy clearly continues to oscillate between the regret for her family and for the cultural and social opportunities in Holland, while at the same time recognizing the possibilities provided by her new homeland (compare p. 278 and 286!). Visits to Holland only reinforced this ambiguous attitude. In her correspondence Madzy always retained a cheery and positive tone; her private writings, however, show much soul-searching – of which Marianne only became aware, she reports with regret and a certain resentment, when perusing these materials after her mother’s death. It is this complex and ambivalent feeling that undoubtedly inspired Madzy to begin writing a history of Canada in Dutch, just as she was later to write a history of Holland for her children, in English (1982). In Nova Scotia she had written a number of short stories for the Atlantic Advocate, and columns for The Maritime Cooperator and the local newspaper, and she now wrote a series of columns on emigration for the Nederlandse Courant.

In 1965 Madzy and Bill moved to a property near Carlisle which they baptized ‘Brandstead’. It was to be Madzy’s last home. Here the family finally seemed to have found their ‘sanctuary’ in a quasi-idyllic setting in which the ideals of a simple life of self-sufficiency could be realized. Thanks partly to their son Gerard’s career as a wood engraver and maker of hand-made books, they cultivated close contacts with the artistic colony there. Madzy continued her writing, but also took up painting – she created, and we have a number of examples of her work in the attractive illustrations provided in the text. According to Marianne, Madzy was the guiding spirit of the family in these years, and sheMarianne credits her for strongly encouraging the children’s artistic and intellectual development. Unfortunately, Madzy’s health deteriorated more quickly now; in rapid succession she suffered an attack of peritonitis followed by shingles. Her eyesight also declined, and later she contracted glaucoma. Undeterred by her physical handicaps, however, she produced a number of works, among them a children’s book with illustrations by Gerard, a book entitled the Whatman Book, and a selection of her previous writings, published by the Netherlandic Press in Windsor under the title A Scent of Spruce (1984). Perhaps most importantly, she began her memoirs, first speaking them onto tape and then having them typed out. Much of the material on Madzy’s early years comes from these sources. After being bed-ridden for two years, Madzy died peacefully on October 5, 1984.

In an epilogue, Marianne Brandis attempts to analyze her mother’s character in intimate and personal terms. She voices criticism of her mother’s reluctance to engage in discussions about personal or family problems. Madzy, like many members of her generation, was undoubtedly changed by the stresses of war and developed the typical strategies of survivors of trauma. She was also a person of great ambiguities. Madzy’s inner life was, Marianne contends, primarily preoccupied with the past, yet she continually hatched projects for the future. At times she might appear arrogant and mistrustful because of her high ideals, which were perhaps impossible to fulfill, yet she took her role as educator, both within her family and in her public writing, seriously. Her notions were somewhat Victorian, yet she was also involved in a struggle for emancipation from her family. She was not a feminist in the current use of the term in that she never questioned Bill’s superiority in the family and where career decisions were concerned. The few years in which she was the sole authority figure, during the war, ended when Bill returned, and Madzy never questioned this state of affairs, though in reality she remained a strong and inspiring figure. Her greatest fear in later life was to become a burden on Bill and the children: her physical deterioration was accompanied by agonizing questioning about the future.

It is clear from passages such as this conclusion, and those beginning with p. 382 and again at the end of each chapter, that Marianne Brandis has approached her subject with circumspection, using the possibilities of the genre from the basis of with a solid theoretical grasp. As a historian and novelist herself, she brings to her material a wealth of learning. At the same time, she never loses sight of the person at the center of her project: the book is clearly a labour of love, even if not of uncritical love. Crucial for the nature of the project was the author’s decision to let Madzy speak as much as possible in her own words. This means that the biography is in fact a joint achievement. An unusual degree of directness and immediacy in the experiences as lived through thereby becomes possible.

This book arrives just in time to memorialize a period in the Dutch and Canadian past that is in the process of changing from ‘lived’ to ‘documented’ history. Marianne is able to establish a link with the prewar years in Holland through her mother, and has personal experience of the earliest post-war years and those of the great emigration waves to Canada. Those of Brandis’ generation will appreciate this book for its vivid and often moving re-creation of this period. More generally, this biography documents the emigrant experience in a true light: as at once unique and universal. From an even more privileged vantage point, the book reveals itself as a searching, probing, but also affirming, and ultimately loving portrait of a remarkable woman.

A. P. Dierick.