HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 1997-10-01, Page 5Arthur Black
Rest easy,
Stephen King
There are three crucial rules for good
writing. Unfortunately, no one knows what
they are.
Somerset Maugham, the venerable Mister
Maugham knew whereof he spake. Just last
month I listened to a CBC radio program on
which two established Canadian journalists
- Robert Fulford and Stevie Cameron -
discussed a magazine article written by a
third Canadian writer. Ms Cameron thought
it was 'beautifully written'. Fulford thought it
was embarrassingly bad.
How can that be? How could two
intelligent observers read the same article
and arrive at diametrically opposite
opinions?
Because when it comes to bad writing,
there are no rules, that's why.
The Irish writer James Joyce spent most of
his life being hooted at for his convoluted
scribblings. Today, those scribblings are
considered by scholars to be among the best
any English speaker has ever put down on a
page.
Meanwhile, execrable hacks like Robert
Ludlum and Tom Clancy earn millions for
novels that would make better comic books.
How's a reader to know good writing?
By Raymond Canon
How good are
Canadian banks?
I confess to having a love-hate relationship
with the Canadian banking system. Over the
course of my business career I have dealt
with banks in any number of countries and,
while there have been some low points, by
and large they have performed better than
what I have had to put up with in Canada.
I can only say that the average branch here
comes as rather parochial.
Foreign currency handling is a case in
point. Because of my travels, I have to deal
quite a bit with the buying and selling of
foreign currency and most of the time I might
as well be talking about nuclear physics.
It is a very frustrating conversation as is
the time it takes to get it. Why it should take
two weeks or more for a London branch to
get the currency I require is beyond me as are
some of the explanations given for having to
charge a specific price.
I am, for example, totally baffled with the
statement that I could get a cheaper rate for
the Czech koruna if I bought travellers'
cheques, than if I took the same amount in
cash. When I replied that I would take 10,000
koruna in travellers' cheques, I was told that
this would be impossible: I would have to
buy an entire box of travellers’ cheques to get
the money at the cheaper price.
The next time I am in Toronto, I am going
to the foreign currency section of the Royal
\
Don't count on editors. I know one
publishing house editor who judges
incoming manuscripts by their weight. He
hefts it in one hand, and if he thinks it's too
heavy he lobs it right into the trash basket.
As for truly bad writing - that's a little
easier to spot. Especially now, thanks to
Denis Dutton. Professor Dutton is a senior
lecturer and editor with the University of
Canterbury in Christchurch, New Zealand.
He is also the guy who came up with the
bright idea of holding a world wide Bad
Writing Contest. Professor Dutton seeks out
the ugliest, most stylistically awful passages
he can find and then awards his prizes.
Rest easy, Stephen King - he confines his
search to scholarly books and articles, such
as a passage taken from an article written by
one Fred Botting of the University of
Lancaster: The lure of imaginary totality is
momentarily frozen before the dialectic of
desire hastens on within symbolic chains.
Clear as prairie gumbo, Fred.
Second prize went to Robert Wilson, who
penned this nugget: If such a sublime cyborg
would insinuate the future of post-Fordish
subject, his palpably masochistic locations
as ecstatic agent of the sublime superstate
need to be decoded as the 'now-all-but-
unreadable DNA' of a fast deindustralizing
Detroit, just as his Robocop-like strategy of
carceral negotiation and street control
remains the tirelessly American one of
Bank to ask them for an explanation.
At least no Canadian bank has sunk to the
level of one bank in the Yugoslav city of
Titograd which I happened to pass through. I
wanted to exchange some Swiss francs so
that I could pay for my air fare from Titograd
to Belgrade and, when I gave them a 100
Swiss franc note, they said they could not
accept it because they did not know what it
looked like.
This impasse was resolved when a call to
another bank revealed that they had a book
with a picture of each note of the major
foreign currencies. A clerk was sent over to
the bank and came back with the book. My
100 Swiss franc note was compared with the
one in the book; fortunately for me, they
were the same and I was able to make my
flight in time.
I have yet to go to a foreign bank where
only some of the services are available
during the time that the bank is open. Yet in
Canada I arrived at the CIBC branch at 9:30
a.m. once, with my two granddaughters, only
to be told when I got inside that teller service
did not begin until 10 a.m.
It was the same bank, by the way, that told
me, when I arrived with the same two
grandchildren, that they did not have
anybody available to help me open accounts
for the children, would I kindly come back
later.
I replied that it was not convenient; the
girls were going away and it had to be done
right now. When I asked if I could use their
phone to talk with the bank's customer
inflicting regeneration through violence
upon the racially heteroglossic wilds and
others of the inner city.
Do you have any idea what Rob Wilson's
talking about? I don't. Neither did Bad
Writing judge Denis Dutton. He decided
Wil son was the second worst piece of
writing he'd seen.
And first prize? Recognition for the most-
mangled morsel of scholarly writing
Professor Dutton could unearth?
That honour goes to one Frederic
Jameson, of Duke University in North
Carolina: The visual is essentially
pornographic, which is to say that it has its
end in rapt, mindless fascination; thinking
about its attributes becomes an adjunct to
that, if it is unwilling to betray its object;
while the most austere films necessarily
draw their energy from the attempt to
repress their own excess (rather than from
the more thankless effort to discipline the
viewer).
That, incredibly, is the first sentence in
Jameson's latest book (he's written several).
As Professor Dutton observes wryly: "It was
good of Jameson to let readers now so soon
what they're up against."
Indeed. And I have one more piece of
disconcerting news for you - care to guess
what these three mutts - Jameson, Wilson,
and Botting are, in real life? Professors of
English.
relations department, I got action.
No wonder I like to deal with European
Banks.
Interestingly enough, each time that I have
something to do with a Canadian bank in a
foreign country, the service seems to
improve. I have nothing but praise for the
Royal Bank's branches in Paris, France and
London, Eng. They have always treated me
efficiently and courteously. Perhaps it is that,
having to compete with the local banks, they
get their act together and keep it there.
By now you can safely assume that I am
not that impressed with Canadian banks but
there is an interesting development currently
taking place in Canada. ING Trust Co.,
backed by a Dutch financial institution that is
larger than even the Royal Bank, is
attempting to bring discount banking to this
country. Its chief attraction is to offer higher
interest rates on deposits while not imposing
fees or service charges. This latter is a sore
point with many Canadian consumers and I
include myself in this group.
This venture will be well worth watching.
If it makes Canadian banks more
competitive, i.e. more attentive to the
feelings of their Canadian customers, it will
have served its purpose.
Just remember that most of the innovations
in the Canadian banking system have come
A Final Thought
Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice
everywhere — Martin Luther King Jr.
THE CITIZEN, WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 1,1997. PAGE 5.
The
Short
of it
HjBonnie Gropfr
What really matters?
They may have to be ranked among the
the happiest days in my life — the days my
two sons told me they no longer wanted to
play hockey.
You see, I'm not like most Canadian
parents. Our national sport holds little thrill
for me. Yet, as long as my kids were having
fun, I would weather the cold, the drives far
afield in nasty storms on early Saturday
mornings. Oh, as a youngster I was
enthralled by my hockey heroes, Johnny
Bower, Frank Mahovolich and Bobby Orr,
but I have since developed a disgust for the
goon sport I'm seeing on many rinks these
days. Believe me, in the time that I shivered
in the stands, and since as a photographer
covering games, I have seen plenty not to
like.
Before I go any further, it would be wrong
of me not to admit that this is not exclusive
to the sport of hockey. But it seems to
happen more predictably and more
frequently at a rink. Perhaps its hockey's
more aggressive nature that permeates into
the stands causing the fans and coaches
abhorrent behaviour.
Doubt me? Let me provide you with some
examples, which have no equal at other
sporting venues I have attended. A reporter
covering a Junior C game was doused first
with expletives, then by waler from the
opposing team's bench. Fans, standing
amidst the home crowd, brag about how they
are going to try and get a fight to break out.
They hurl insults at each other and to the
players, until their goal is realized. A
championship team carried the trophy
around the ice, giving the finger to the home
fans.
But no situation causes me as much
sadness as when abuse is at the minor level.
How many times have you seen a small
hockey player reduced to tears by a
comment from their coach or parent?
Recently, a local hockey grandpa shared
with me a poem, that as the hockey season
begins, he thought it might be good to print
as a reminder for some.
IT’S ONLY A GAME
Hey there, Dad with the bitter tongue,
Your words are wrong for a boy that
young!
He played his game; it's plain he tried,
You're the only one not satisfied.
It’s not such an easy game to play,
Though up in the stands it may seem that
way.
If you didn't think he played that well, (the
way you did in the NHL)
You should have asked the coach for an
extra sweater,
Gone out there yourself and done it better.
Teach by example... if you’re top notch.
Why are you now such a pain to watch?
That's an awful burden as he grows older
That you're putting on a little shoulder...
The skills of the game and, in addition,
The heavy weight of a Dad's ambition.
So be like a jock strap, Dad old sport,
And give your son your full support,
Where it counts and when he plays,
Search inside for some words of praise.
Have some sense of the boy inside,
The deep felt need for a father's pride.
Then perhaps as your son grows up,
His love for his Dad is a brimming cup.
It's only a game! Should it end in tatters
Your love for your son should be all that
matters. Author Unknown