THINGS THAT ARE REAL, THINGS THAT ARE NOT

Back in the day there was a book called “Reality Isn’t What it Used to Be”, by a Walter Truett Anderson. It dealt with post-modernism, reality as a social construct, and other such abstruse things. I’d give myself about a 60% comprehension rate.

Two phrases from that book have stuck in my head for longer than Lady Gaga has been alive. The first: “America is a vast theme park”. The second: “Camp Culture”. I think of these phrases all the time. As usual, I think about them in tension.

Like this: you all know about George St. in St John’s, famous for its entertainment district. More entertainment/pubs per square inch than you can imagine, all Newfoundland themed of course. You can hear traditional music, go to Irish pubs, buy Newfoundland arts/crafts, etc etc. There is even a statue of some famous Newfie musician at one end of the street, whose name I forget. Same idea as Government St. in Victoria, Niagara Falls, most places in Hawaii, etc.

We went to George St. once, but did not go a second night. It did not draw us back. There was something about it that just did not seem real, at least not to us.

To be clear, there were some stellar aspects, particularly our encounter with strangers. Nothing unreal about these people; they embodied everything that’s good about Newfoundland, for that matter everything that’s good about humanity. Beside that, the fish and chips were outstanding. There was a festive air.

But all the time we’re there, Walter Truett Anderson’s phrase keeps buzzing in my head: America is one vast theme park. . Ichabod.

If we had encountered Newfoundland music in a different context, like somebody’s kitchen for instance, we might have gone back for more. Same with Newfoundland art, or Newfoundland anything else. When you encounter it as it is, in context, that’s one thing. But as soon as it is commodified, packaged, sold, the reality somehow drains out of it. After awhile it just doesn’t ring true any more. It all becomes an artifice, a recreation, a tourist trap. Canada as one vast theme park. You package it and sell it, you kill it.

Or so it seems to me. Now on the other hand…

The next day we went to a place called Arnold’s Cove, which is not tourist trappy. Gail had discovered a walking trail by the ocean there, so thither we duly went. Good move.

We walked about 8km of a 12 km trail. Gail kept saying, “oh wow, oh wow.” She took a kazillion pictures, and kept saying “we’ll never top this.” I’d try to describe it, but that wouldn’t do it justice. Absolutely magnificent, and we were the only people on the entire trail. We were both totally invigorated. We’d go back there every day if we could. Nature at its best; truth and beauty, without artifice.

As for camp culture, I had a rough idea about that since reading the aforementioned book, so I looked it up for clarity. Its key elements, apparently, are “artifice, frivolity, naïve middle class pretentiousness, and shocking excess.” This according to Susan Sontag, Websters, et al. Think Las Vegas, and to a lesser degree, theme parks everywhere. Disneyland.

Newfoundland isn’t like that yet. It is mostly natural stuff: wind, whales, moose, fishing boats, really friendly people (true story). But I’m wondering if, over time, the packaging and selling of the essential Newfoundland, such as on George St., might be the death of it. That happens, doesn’t it?

Meanwhile, there’s lots here to enjoy, such as the folks pictured below. Friendly and genuine, everything that we’d heard Newfoundlanders are. Great to meet them, and others like them. We’d come back to visit them. And the whales and puffins and fishing villages and such. The real stuff.

But not George Street. I think the essence of Newfoundland has leaked out of there.

Ken and Karen top, beach bottom. Nothing artificial.