DINING WITH THE G.G.
The phone rang one morning, earlier than I'd expected any news, one way or the other, about that Governor General's Award nomination. A gentle voice told me who it was and said, "You've won." But I'd been waiting for a call from somebody else about something completely different. I said, "I'm sorry, I'm getting deaf and this telephone has a tinny, awful sound, would you mind repeating that?"
Once I'd got over the shock, I guess I was adrift in my little pink cloud until a preliminary schedule arrived and the urgent wardrobe question sank in -- for the presentation, long dresses for the ladies and black tie for the men. Then it was, "OMIGOD-what-am-I-going-to-wear?"
There was a time, eons ago in my former life, that I did a lot of social things and had a lot of social-type clothes, and since I'm a pack rat I still have some of them stashed away for a variety of reasons but mostly because I just haven't faced sorting out what to chuck. Needless to say there was unsuitable stuff, but finally, when I was getting desperate enough to think I was going to have to go out and BUY a dress, I looked again at something I'd thought was too colourful. Still, it had a high neck and long sleeves and was wool (I'm frileuse), and best of all it fit without too many lumps and bumps in the wrong places. I heaved a sigh of relief and since the dress reeked of dust, bore it off to the cleaners.
The other clothes challenge was buying Jim a proper shirt to wear with his tux, also long unused. On Saturday before the Monday departure for Ottawa -- Santa Claus parade day -- I forged down to the shirt department at the Bay. The choice was woeful. "Go down to the boutique section," the saleslady advised before putting aside the rather chintzy Tommy Hilfiger number I'd found as the only possible thing to fall back on. Fortunately the boutique did rather better than Tommy Hilfiger, for less dough. Relief number two.
Meanwhile, there had been requests for pictures and bios, from the Council and from the National Library, a copyright permission from the National Library, and, I discovered very late, an acceptance speech to prepare for the press conference in the morning of the afternoon award presentation, something the instructions hadn't mentioned. During this time, I was also getting requests for this and that from Drainie-Taylor Prize and QSPELL Award organizers, and since I was sworn to secrecy in two of the three cases, and all three assumed I knew who was calling, there were moments when I would have loved to laugh over it with them and couldn't.
Came the day of departure, Monday evening, 6 o'clock train, HAD to be there an hour ahead of time or we might lose our places. Very nice, travelling by train, first class. We were all together, the Montreal contingent and some from beyond. None of us knew each other. We smiled shyly and began getting acquainted. Josiane Polidori was with us, as she would be at every step and turn. "Our shepherdess," Michael Healey (drama) named her, always smiling and gracious, always there at the right place and time to make sure we knew where to go and what to do, sometimes with Suzanne Bruneau, her assistant.
We stayed at the Delta Hotel. This was a change from previous years, when everyone stayed at the Château Laurier, but a sensible one, because the Delta is close to the National Library, where a lot of the Awards activities occur.
"Tuesday morning, 16 November, 7:20 a.m.: Winners meet with Josiane Polidori and Suzanne Bruneau in hotel lobby." It had turned bitter cold. We all marched off smartly, a sharp turn to the right and two short blocks straight ahead and across the road. At the press conference (which was public), Jean-Louis Roux, the chairman of the Canada Council, presented each of us with a 12"x 30" cheque, after which we each gave our acceptance speech. We were handed the real cheques informally afterwards. Some wag suggested that now nobody needed to turn up for the rest of the festivities. Luise von Flotow came and I couldn't have been happier to see her.
This was the first time anyone saw Matt Cohen. He appeared in time to accept his outsize cheque and give his speech like everyone else. He looked frail but spoke well and with humour. He appeared also at Rideau Hall for the presentation and for pictures after, and for the reading at the National Library the next day, always disappearing after doing the necessary, but always in an upbeat mood, he and those around him too. One would never have guessed he was so close to death. At the Rideau Hall presentation, when the Governor General abandoned all protocol and the prescribed procedure and put her arms around him to give him a big hug (they are old friends), there wasn't a dry eye in the house.
There were other moving moments. At the press conference, for instance, when Yolande Simard, who was receiving the award for her husband, Pierre Perrault (French non-fiction -- he died in July), broke down as she announced at the end of her speech that she was giving some of the award to literacy groups. She is a remarkable person in her own right, an anthropolologist who accompanied Pierre Perreault on many of his expeditions in the far north.
Back to our schedule. Back to the hotel after the press conference and lunch. Dress for the Awards ceremony, off to Rideau Hall by taxi, briefing for winners and publishers. VIPs (husbands, wives, companions, etc.) shepherded into audience section of hall.
We walked in two by two to music behind the Governor General and took our appointed places. This year there was an innovation. The winners sat in two rows on either side of Her Excellency, facing the audience. The publishers sat in the front rows of the audience at the right. This was kind of nice. We could see the audience and they could see us.
There were preliminary speeches, then the Governor General's, on which she had certainly spent a lot of time and thought. What she was saying essentially was that, in honouring us, these awards were honouring all Canadian literary creators. Then each of us was called up to receive our award. There's no curtseying or deep bowing any more, just a respectful nod. As she handed us the beautifully leather-bound and decorated copy of our book, she had very kind words for each of us -- she did for me, and so did John Ralston Saul (who rose each time to second her congratulations and praise), and several others told me she did for them as well. I wouldn't be surprised if they had both read all the books. The publishers received their awards after ours. I'm not sure what these awards were; certificates, perhaps. Oh yes, part of the drill for each of us was to turn, with the Governor General and our Award book, toward the photographers. I was awed by the aggregation of cameras, I have to say. And it seems that I was on that evening's CBC news receiving my award, not named, but perhaps because of my too colourful dress!
There was a reception after the ceremony, general milling around and drinks and hors d'oeuvres and socializing. Then dinner, buffet style, an extraordinary spread where you had to remind yourself that there was more farther down the table and more courses to come after this one. I discovered that I was sitting at the Governor General's table, two seats to her left, with Senator Jacques Hébert between us, who I've translated (an article quite a while ago -- he didn't remember but was willing to take my word for it). To her right was Stéphane Jorisch (French children's illustration), and to his right was Jan Zwicky (English poetry). My old friend Pascal Assathiany of Éditions Boréal was to my left. So dare I conclude that what are usually treated as the least prestigious categories were getting priority at Her Excellency's table? She is indeed doing away with all but the barest essentials of protocol. Senator Hébert and I talked to her for a good part of the evening, all in French except for a few words at Hébert's insistence before we lapsed back into French. She was so warm and informal with us that, late in the evening when Hébert and I were sitting alone together briefly, we discovered that although neither of us had met her before, each of us had been assuming the other was an old friend of hers.
On Day Two everyone in the hotel trickled down for brunch at about the same time. By now a genuine warmth had developed among us, French and English together, and this I want to stress.
At 1 p.m. we left for the House of Commons. There was a demonstration going on out front, with riot police in full gear. Our taxis let us off around the back and we went in by a subterranean entrance, Josiane Polidori appearing as if by magic to show us where. Heavy security. Once in, we were guests in the Speaker's gallery for question period (our guests and publishers sat in the public gallery). This was fun because all the heads we see on TV and names we read about in federal politics were there, mixing it up. Some of my colleagues were horrified at the lack of dignity displayed. At the end of question period, the Speaker introduced us one by one, by name, and the whole House stood and applauded. Another moving experience. After this we had tea with Mr. Speaker Gilbert Parent in his chambers. Several M.P.s joined us, including Wendy Lill, who had been a nominee for drama, and my own M.P., who had said some words of welcome for us in the House (she hadn't known me).
That evening there was a reception at the National Library, followed by a Gala reading, which is public and has become one of the NLC's major events of the year. Each of us read from our winning book. Each reading was supposed to be brief but some overran the limit considerably. At readings I often reflect what a pity it is that more writers don't learn to read well aloud; it's not at all like reading to yourself.
After, we all went to the bar at the hotel and drank and ate nachos and talked and unwound, and finally said goodbye to some we wouldn't see the next day before leaving. In the morning the Montreal contingent left by train and met again for three days at the Salon du Livre, where there was a reception at which we saw a lot of friends, and other events centred on the Council's kiosk, and a Table ronde on Saturday in which we all took part. So for us it was like tapering off, not cold turkey.
What a jag!
Hear Patricia and the other 1999 Governor General's winners read from their work:
1999 Governor General's Literary Award WinnersSee the Canada Council Web site for the juries' comments: Winners of the 1999 Governor General's Literary Awards
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