Keeping the Literary Consciousness Fresh

by John Coleman

I was particularly moved by an article in the Winter 2010/2011 issue of Riddle Fence, an East Coast Canadian literary quarterly and, from what I've stumbled on to date, one of the best Canadian reviews kicking.

Great writing and artwork aside, the article that caught my eye is a discussion led by Riddle Fence editor Shoshanna Wingate on Kathleen Winter's novel Annabel, bearing a subtitle boldly washed right across the RF cover: "An in-depth look at intersex issues." Oh, once again, my inner rebel salivates. Seeing this, I jumped to the checkout with a copy in firm grasp. After coughing up my fifteen or so bones I startled the cashier by shouting "Look! You ever seen a title like that?! No! You haven't!" Okay, that may be an exaggeration, but I was excited to read it.

Wingate's write-up offers a brief review of Annabel, mentioning her surprise that the novel's ultra-new-age, intersex theme fell below most mainstream reviewers' radars. In her eyes, aside from a legitimate critical analysis in Quill & Quire, Winter is all stylistic prose, with no intellectual offering, to most Canadian reviewers. Hard to believe when she’s grappling with the topic of intersex issues.

In the absence of mainstream critical reviews tackling the book’s weighty issue, Wingate took up the challenge herself. Springing from Annabel's themes, she hosts a discussion with her friend, who goes by the pseudonym T.F. Milquetoast and is intersex. The interview discusses much about Annabel: its differences from the lone other major intersex-themed novel, Jeffrey Eugenides' Middlesex, and T.F.'s (brazenly logical, I might add) view of how intersex culture is represented in art, media and society.

To me, real writing not only produces original approaches to prose style, it also effectively continues a communal dialogue on something relevant and brings up new ideas on a current meaningful topic. The novel’s Annabel character picks up a conversation on intersex identity in contemporary literature, therefore placing the issue in the collective public consciousness. Winter wants us to engage in dialogue about what being intersex can and does mean, and Wingate's article accepts this opportunity.

Moreover, Riddle Fence importantly focuses on a niche literary trend. The topic of intersex culture and politics has hardly made its way into the intellectual melting pot; surely it is scarce even among art ‘zines. (Much like the late issue of subTerrain, British Columbia's reflective, hopeful magazine that honours the one year anniversary of the Vancouver Olympic Winter Games with its "Post-Olympic Reflections" issue. Yeah, you've never seen anything like that, either.)

What I'm getting at is these and other thought provoking journals boast a mark of contemporary individuality. They cover topics ignored by the bigger fish in attempt to keep our literary consciousness fresh, nurtured, and informed (just like Winter's Annabel). This is contemporary, post-post-modern (if you will) literature's role: always keep to relevant, new topics. The fact that my computer tells me intersex isn't even a word doesn't phase me. I know it’s an issue being talked about. And, I know the ignorance toward complex topics is an ignorance that will one day fly over something within my individual culture and yours.