Conversational complications
Malagasy pirate wives, heartbroken monarchs, valley volunteers, folktale gods – finding ways to communicate, whatever hurdles stand in the way.
May-June 2023
To converse is human. Talking to each other is a basic human need, and also a great joy. The theme that emerged from this newsletter’s pieces was both the desire for conversation, and the obstacles in its way. A King pours out his anguish at his favourite’s silent treatment; Malagasy wives translate their language and customs for their pirate husbands; God and man run out of things to talk about; a telephone can no longer fulfill its promise of connection. I have long discussions with fascinating people but can only share a fraction of what they told me in the spaces I have available. But despite these obstacles, we find ways to continue our conversations, however fragmented, one way or the other.
The Sneak Peek
Before there was lawn tennis, there was “real” tennis – the original game played in an asymmetrical indoor court (although even further back, it originated in outdoor courtyards and quadrangles). I played it when I was studying in England, and it’s a wonderful, eccentric game, like playing inside a pinball machine (or as one friend described it, like Calvinball).
Over the past month, I’ve had the pleasure of reading, deciphering, and paraphrasing or translating a series of French documents about real tennis (jeu de paume in French – the game of the palm, since that’s what was used before rackets – a much better name) held in the Yale library, originally collected by a 19th century enthusiast. The world of real tennis players is small but dedicated, and one of its modern enthusiasts hired me to tell him what these documents say (he took photos of the pages). It’s been fun, though my paleography skills are rusty.
The most fascinating documents relate to King Louis XIII of France, who took the throne in 1610 at the tender age of eight. One is a receipt for payment to the tennis master who taught him how to play when he was ten years old (and already King). Even more interesting (though less about tennis) is a letter Louis wrote in 1640 to his first minister, Cardinal Richelieu, about his favourite, the Marquis de Cinq-Mars. He complains that Cinq-Mars dropped by only briefly that day, and said nothing more than that he’d been playing tennis before promptly leaving again. Louis adds that “il devient si hault quil ny a plus moyen dan soufrir” (“he’s becoming so haughty that I can’t bear it any longer” – underlined by Louis). The letter reveals how infatuated Louis was with this favourite – but also that his deepest trust lay in Richelieu, who is the counsellor to whom he feels he can confide his relationship troubles. This dynamic would play out a couple of years later, when Cinq-Mars conspired against Richelieu and Louis XIII stood by as his erstwhile favourite was executed. The letter is a touching insight into the loneliness of a monarch.
The Tidbit
At the end of the seventeenth century, pirates from the Caribbean, seeking a place that was both a refuge and a good hunting ground for piracy, settled on the north-east coast of Madagascar, from where they could plunder Indian Ocean shipping but also settle down to an unmolested (they hoped) retirement.
In settling, they started families with local women. This kind of activity is often framed as colonialist – “taking” local wives – but anarchist anthropologist David Graeber, who did his field research in Madagascar, looks at this case from the women’s point of view. In his book Pirate Enlightenment, or the Real Libertalia, he argues that the women actively sought out these foreign husbands (a suggestion supported by local folk tales), and that it was a power move for them.
First, the women escaped the patriarchal structures of the local society. As well, since their husbands were not very conversant with the Malagasy language or local customs, their wives became vital intermediaries who were essentially in charge of their husband’s affairs. Some of their husbands had lots of loot, but didn’t know how to dispose of it in this foreign environment – so the women both became wealthy, and also took on an important economic role that they wouldn’t normally have access to, becoming the middle-women who converted this pirate loot through local (and international, since many nations traded with Madagascar) markets into necessities and luxuries. Finally, they were able to turn their children into an exclusive semi-aristocracy, whose traces still exist in the area.
The book is short and fascinating, if a bit fragmented (it was the last book Graeber was working on before his death).
What’s Up
I mentioned in my last newsletter how Toronto’s Don Valley seems like a natural habitat, a green river valley, but in fact is a kind of feral landscape. The original wilderness was mostly cut down long ago, and for a century the valley was subsumed to the needs of industry, lined by mills and factories. What we see now is a valley returning to nature after being domesticated. If you look closely, you can see remnants of industry – bricks, metal machinery – under the new growth.
And quite a lot of that new growth is invasive – plants that aren’t merely foreign, but that take over and displace other plants, creating monocultures that don’t play nicely with other greenery and are of little use to insects, birds, and animals. Trying to restore the Don Valley to a more diverse habitat is a huge task, but lots of volunteers over the years have contributed to helping make it happen.
In that first summer of the pandemic back in 2020, when we could interact with other people again as long as we were outside, I had some delightful conversations one of these volunteers, Floyd Ruskin, who came to Canada from Brooklyn as a teenager and who has volunteered in the valley for over three decades. He got me to take part in an afternoon session cutting down invasive plants (the ominous-sounding dog-strangling vine) in Crother’s Woods in the valley, a revivifying return to hanging out (suitably distanced) with strangers that was good for both body and soul after that initial lockdown.
It was for a book project that has since taken a different direction, but I wanted to make used of those conversations and convey Floyd’s distinctive voice, so I wrote an article in the new issue of Spacing about some of the contemporary volunteers and programs that work to restore the valley. (In issue 63, the Fire issue, only available in print, which has just arrived at the Spacing store (401 Richmond St. W.) and should be in other fine book and magazine stores shortly).
Quotable
God and Man were inseparable companions. One day God said to Man: why don’t you go walk around on Earth for a while so we can find some new topics for conversation?
- Beginning of a Malagasy folktale, as quoted by David Graeber in Pirate Enlightenment, or the Real Libertalia
This story felt familiar, despite the mythological context – that feeling with the people one is most familiar with that you might run out of things to talk about, but also the way new things – whether it’s travel, or something read or seen, or going to events, or hearing other people’s stories, or embarking on a project, or simply walking around on Earth – provide us with the material to continue developing our relationships through talk. Conversations need fuel.
Pic Pick
You can’t make free calls anymore, or any calls for that matter, on this phone. But it hangs on, adding a little visual interest to a neglected stretch of Davenport Road, like an unintentional piece of public sculpture. And people have found other ways for it to communicate, by providing a surface on which to scribble their notes or their signatures, telling the world of their existence.
The Catch-Up
A year ago, the Toronto Star commissioned me to write a story about a couple of Torontonians who were part of Architects Against Housing Alienation, the group selected to represent Canada at the 2023 Venice architecture biennale with their installation “Not for Sale!” At the time, it was a year away, so the plans were quite abstract, but very intriguing. The Biennale opened at the end of May this year, and now that abstract concept has become a reality. You can see some images here.
Read my piece in the Star last year, “At a prestigious architecture event in Venice, creative advocacy group AAHA is putting up walls to break down others”
In a happy connection, writer Chris DeWolf attended the Biennale and offered to write about it for the next issue of Spacing (coming out in the fall), conveying even more of the flavour of the exhibition.
The Shout-Out
At the start of every summer, I think of this ultimate summer song by Young Doctors in Love, the Toronto band led by my friend Clay Puddester. It embodies the vibrant joy of summer – and the video is a delight too. Three minutes of pure energy guaranteed to put you in a good mood!