Wd valgardson biography of donald

Read Edit View history. Tools Tools. Download as PDF Printable version. In other projects. Wikidata item. Winnipeg , Manitoba , Canada. Icelandic-Canadian fiction writer, poet, and academic. He wanted her to stay with him in the doorway, but she pulled away and went inside. Two hundred yards from the island his boat capsized. Danny had gone to school on the pretext of doing some work, but what he wanted was some privacy.

He had seen the squall coming up. A violent wind whipped across the waves and behind it a white, ragged line on the water raced toward the island. Michael Fairweather was only able to turn his boat halfway round before the wind and sleet struck. Danny bolted from the room, but by the time he reached the dock, Michael lead disappeared.

The squall had disappeared as quickly as it had come. Within Half an hour the sea was back to its normal rolling. While one man rowed, another held the line at the back of the boat. As Danny watched, the boats crossed back and forth until it was nearly dark. They came in without the body. Poorwilly had time to get out of his bedroom. Poorwilly nestled the rooster in her jacket on the way to the dock, then tied it to Mr.

Poorwilly stepped into the front of the skiff. The rooster hopped onto the bow. With that the other men climbed into their boats and followed Mr. Poorwilly and the rooster out of the harbour. Danny turned and stared at the line of boats. In spite of the wind, the sun was warm. Poorwilly stood as still as a wooden figurehead. The dark green and grey boats rose and fell on the waves.

Except for the hissing of the foam, there was no sound. Danny looked away and searched the crowd for Adel. He had looked for a third time, when Mrs. They might bring him up. As the day wore on, Danny became caught up in the crossing and re-crossing of the boats. None of the men dragged their hooks. The only time the men in the rear of the boats moved was to change positions with the men at the oars.

When the cock crew, the sound caught Danny by surprise. The constant, unchanging motion and the hissing of the spray had drawn him into a quiet trance. It had been as if the boats and he had been there forever. The sound was so sharp that some of the women cried out. The men with the iron bars covered with hooks threw them into the sea, and shoved the coils of rope after them.

The bars disappeared with little spurts of white foam. Danny could hear the rope rubbing against the side of the boat as it was pulled hand over hand. Danny turned back. It was true. Instead of a white shroud, the men were pulling a black bundle into the boat. The funeral was bad. Marj Fairweather cried constantly and tried to keep the men from taking the body.

In spite of Marj, the tension in the community eased after the funeral was over. People began to visit more often, and when they came they talked more and stayed longer. Adel came frequently to the Poorwillys. When she came, she talked to the Poorwillys, but she watched Danny. She had her colour back and looked even better than before.

Most of the time, Danny managed to walk her home. Kissing her was not satisfactory because of the cold and the bulky clothes between them, but she would not invite him in and there was no privacy at the Poorwillys. In spite of the walks and goodnight kisses, she remained shy when anyone else was around. The villagers had expected the weather and the fishing to improve.

If anything, the weather became worse. Ice coated the boats. The wind blew night and day. Often, it only stopped in the hour before dawn. Then, without warning, Marj Fairweather sent her children to the Poorwillys, emptied a gas lamp on herself and the kitchen floor, and lit a match. This time there was no funeral. The entire village moved in a state of shock.

The village drew into itself. The villagers stayed in their own houses. When they came to the door, they only stayed long enough to finish their business. The men quit going to the dock. Most of them pulled their boats onto the island and turned them over. A week after the fire, Danny arrived to find his room stripped of his belongings. Poorwilly waited until he had come into the kitchen.

Poorwilly and I decided to take two of the Fairweather children. Danny was too stunned to say anything. Poorwilly continued. Adel needs your board and room worse than we do. Adel showed him to his bedroom. All his clothes had been hung up and his books had been neatly piled in one corner. He sat on the edge of the bed and tried to decide what to do.

The supper was good, but Danny was too interested in Adel to pay much attention. In the light from the oil lamp, her eyes looked darker than ever. He could see the soft hollow of her throat and the smooth skin below her breastbone. Throughout supper he told her about the mainland and tried to keep his eyes above her neck. Twice he turned around quickly.

Each time the children had all been busy writing in their notebooks. There was no smirking or winking behind their hands. Adel was at home. Danny and Adel were left completely alone. Adel shied away from him when he brushed against her. At the end of the second week, she accepted his offer to help with the dishes. They stood side by side as they worked.

She let him pull her close. There was no place to sit or lie in the kitchen so he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. After he made love to her, he fell asleep. When he woke up, Adel had gone to her own bed. At the beginning of the next week, they had their first visitor. Poorwilly stopped by to see how they were doing. They had been eating supper when she arrived.

Normally, they would have been finished eating, but Adel had been late in coming from the fish sheds. The weather had improved enough for the men to go fishing. Poorwilly accepted a cup of coffee and sat and talked to them for an hour. It was as if her coming had been a signal. After that, villagers dropped by in the evenings to talk for a little while.

They nearly always brought something with them and left it on the table. Adel stopped going back to her own bed. Danny thought about getting married but dismissed the idea. The day Danny started to get sick he should have known something was wrong. He had yelled at the children for no particular reason. When Adel had come home, he had been grouchy with her.

Wd valgardson biography of donald

The next day his throat had been sore, but he had ignored it. Adel had been worried, but he told her not to call Mrs. Their things had become so mixed together that it was obvious they were using the same bedroom. For the next few days he was too sick to protest about anything. Poorwilly came frequently to take his temperature and to see that Adel kept forcing whisky and warm broth into him.

All during his sickness Danny was convinced that he was going to die. During one afternoon he was sure that he was dead and that the sheets were a shroud. The crisis passed and he started to cough up phlegm, but he was so weak that it was an effort for him to lift his head. The day he was strong enough to sit up and eat in the kitchen, Mrs.

He admired the generally shapeless carvings, and after the first abortive attempt carefully avoided guessing at what they were supposed to be. After the children left, the McFarlans came. McFarlan had made a shadow box from shingle. He had scraped the shingle with broken glass until the grain stood out. Inside the box he had made a floor of lichen and pebbles.

Seagulls made from clam shells sat on the lichen. His wife stretched a piece of black cloth over the end of a fish box. On it she had glued boiled fish bones to form a picture of a boat and man. Someone brought a tin of pears, another brought a chocolate bar. One of the men brought half a bottle of whisky. Each visitor stayed just long enough to inquire how Danny felt, wish him well and leave a present on the table.

When the last visitor had gone, Danny was exhausted. Adel helped him to bed. He felt much better by the end of the week, but when he tried to return to work, Mrs. Adel returned to work at the sheds, but the women sent her home. The weather had held and there was lots of fish, but they said she should be at home looking after Danny.

At first it was ideal. They had little to do except sit and talk or make love. Danny caught up on his reading. They both were happy, but by the end of March their confinement had made them both restless. To get out of the house, Danny walked to Mrs. Adel and you making out all right? Maybe it would be a good idea for me to take Adel to the mainland for a week.

The superintendent will want a reason. Adel was standing at the window when he returned. He put his arms around her. We can start with a week on the mainland for a honeymoon. Mary tried to raise the mainland operator, but the static was so bad that no contact could be made. Danny kept Mary at the radio for half an hour. He left when she promised to send one of the children with a message if the radio cleared.

Danny returned the next night, but the static was just as bad. Mary promised to send for him as soon as the call went through. A week went by. The weather continued to improve. Danny checked the thermometer. The temperature was going up a degree every two days. One of the tubes needed to be replaced. He left. Halfway home he decided to go back and leave a message for the plane.

The radio might work just long enough for a message, but not long enough for him to be called to the set. When he came up to the house, he was sure that he heard the radio. He banged on the front door. Mary took her time coining. Can you send a message right away? Danny insisted on her trying to make the call. When she had tried for five minutes, Danny excused himself and left.

The disease spread to the native Cree population. They, too, suffered terribly. Although the story is fiction, I wanted to capture the spirit of stories I heard from my great grandmother who was a child during the early settlement days. What she often spoke about was the kindness of the native people. I also wanted to say something about how we need to look to the history of the native people in Canada for lessons in how to live well in our environment.

I admire the writing of Flannery O'Conner so much that some day I hope to make it to Georgia to put flowers on her grave. No contemporary writers have had any particular influence. My interests and style are set and unlikely to change. Write what you know about. If you don't know about it, get busy and research it. Write what you care about.

Don't waste your time writing about things you don't care about. Learn your craft. Set goals for yourself as a writer. Observe and learn your own creative process so that you can make the most of your time and effort. Your two best hours of the day, for example, will produce more than six other hours. Remember that writing is always about people and you should practice observing and understanding people at every opportunity.

Characters often turn up unbidden. My … YA novel called Frances was supposed to be about a young boy. Instead, as I wrote, a girl kept turning up. Finally, I listened to the story she had to tell me and the novel became hers. In Garbage Creek, I wrote about two lonely kids who decide to restore a creek in hope that the salmon will return.

That came from overhearing a conversation at the Salmon House in Goldstream Park. There was a girl in a long, fancy dress. She had her hair elaborately arranged. And she was wearing rubber boots. Mahoney, Anne Louise. Review of Sarah and the People of Sand River. Phelan, Carolyn. Booklist , November 1, Publishers Weekly , no. Cite this article Pick a style below, and copy the text for your bibliography.

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