Steamboats on the Saskatchewan by James Peel

Another in the series of books of Western Canadian historical nonfiction that I began in 2023 (with Maria Campbell's memoir Half-Breed) and includes:

•  The One and a Half Men: The story of Jim Brady and Malcolm Norris, Metis Patriots of the 20th Century
• The NorthWest is Our Mother:The Story of Louis Riel's People, the Métis Nation 
• The York Factory Express: Fort Vancouver to Hudson Bay, 1826-1849.

Why this book? I grew up in Saskatoon hearing stories about how steamboats had once navigated the South Saskatchewan river. Local lore claimed either that the city's weir had been constructed to raise water levels to improve navigation or that its installation had ended steamboat transport past the city. As it turns out, neither story is true -- the last steamboat to reach Saskatoon was the City of Medicine Hat which wrecked there in 1908. The Saskatoon weir was constructed in 1939.

In fact, as I learned by reading this book, the vast majority of steamboat trips happened between 1874 and the early 1890s, with travel happening between Grand Rapids (where the Saskatchewan River meets Lake Winnipeg) and Fort Edmonton (on the North Saskatchewan River). Most steamboats were built and operated by the Hudson's Bay Company (or a wholy-owned subsidiary), and supported shipping for the fur trade. 

In other words, this book is a continuation of the story that I last encountered in The York Factory Express. 

Having read that book helped me scan this one.  I was already familiar with the La Colle rapids just west of the forks of the Saskatchewan, which formed a major barrier to steamboats just as they had to the York Boats of the HBC Brigades.  I already knew about the impassible rapids at Grand Rapids (where the Saskatchewan plunged into Lake Winnipeg), so the difficulties they encountered hauling boats and freight from the lake to the head of the river was not a surprise. But it was interesting to learn more about the somewhat mystifying way that this (major) river vanished into multiple streams and bogs and lakes in the marshes near Cumberland House. Those ever-changing channels affected steamboat navigation much more than they did the transport of the smaller, more maneuverable York Boats, as did the river's  seasonally fluctuating water levels, sandbars, ice-jams, and rocks.

Is Steamboats on the Saskatchewan interesting for a general reader? Well, you'll have to decide for yourself, but you should know that the book was published in 1972 and has a laser-focus on the steamboats themselves: their captains, their tonnage, their repeated wrecks, the details of their voyages in the various shipping seasons, the ownership structure of the shipping companies, the endless lists of cargos. This is a specialist book on a specialist historical subject, in the same way that The Northwest is Our Mother focuses on the story of the Metis to the exclusion of the larger historical context.

That means that most of the most interesting questions that the book raised for me were not addressed. How did the advent of steamboats change the fur trade? Did steamboats supplement or immediately replace the HBC Brigades who had transported goods along the Saskatchewan since the 1770s? What was the effect on the cargo hauled on Red River Carts along the Carleton Trail? What did the advent of steamboats do to the lives of the Metis whose livelihoods depended on the Hudson's Bay Company? How about the First Nations who traded with the HBC? Was this the beginning (or the acceleration) of settlement of the North West Territory, or was the presence of steamboats incidental to that process? Who used steamboats for transport from Winnipeg to Fort Edmonton (at the princely sum of $60/person for a cabin-class fare)? HBC administrators and their families? Settlers? 

And then there are the stories that Peel mentions just long enough to intrigue. I wanted to know more about Henry Budd, the "Indian clergyman" who recorded in his diary the first visit of a steamboat to Cumberland House in 1874. Who was Budd? Were First Nations clergy common or was he (relatively) unique? Where was he educated? What was his story? And then there was the side-bar about the Saskatchewan steamship captains who travelled to Egypt and Sudan in a failed attempt to rescue General Gordon from the siege of Khartoum in 1884.  Peel mentions that 200 voyageurs were also recruited to paddle small boats up the Nile as part of this effort.  Really?  Who were they? Did they ever reach Egypt? What happened to them? Sadly Peel doesn't think it's worth following up, leaving me to wonder what it was like for a Metis from the prairies to help prosecute the ambitions of Empire in colonial Egypt (and what they thought of the pyramids!)

Speaking of colonialism, that brings me to another core element of the book: its casual colonial racism. The most innocuous way that this shows up is in Peel's assumption that the life stories of the (white) American steamboat captains are more interesting than the stories of the people whose lives the steamboats affected. An even more striking way it appears, of course, is in Peel's description of the "Riel Rebellion" at Batoche in 1885. Despite Jim Norris's then-galvanizing 1962 speech at a Fish Creek memorial pointing out the absurdity of calling the battle a victory for Middleton (the advance of Middleton's 925 troops towards Batoche was halted for three weeks by 60 Metis fighters, at a cost of 50 Canadian casualties to Dumont's 5), Peel continues the colonialist narrative that the Battle of Fish Creek was either insignificant or a Middleton victory. Peel's account of the steamboat SS Nortcott's attempt to participate in the Battle of Batoche follows a similar trajectory: it portrays the Nortchott's contribution as significant, even though the steamboat was disabled early on by the adroit use by the Metis of a ferry cable and by their rifle fire.  

But the single most telling example of colonialst racism in the book is the way Peel tells the story of the steamboat Lily's exploratory trip down the South Saskatchewan to Medicine Hat in 1883. Her crew underestimates the scarcity of wood near the river and the ship runs out of fuel on the high prairie. They don't turn back (a practical solution, as turning back which would take them downstream towards the parkland ecosystem with its many aspen). Instead they find the winter houses of some Metis hunters on the river bank nearby and ????use the houses as firewood???  The author then jokes (!!!) about how surprised the victims of this vandalism will be to find their 'shanties' missing when they return -- presumably near winter's beginning, when the Metis expect to find shelter and will instead have few alternatives. 

All I can say is Holy ****.  Not just at the actions of that steamboat crew -- I'm just as flabberghasted at the 1972 author who thought the story was amusing instead of an outrage.  It gives me a new appreciation for Murray Dobbin's serious political biography of Metis activists Norris and Brody, published in 1981. What a difference in attitude.  

Which brings me back to the question "Should I read this book?".  I'd have to say that for most, the answer will be no. For most, Steamboats will fall into the category of  "a boring book full of historical details about a place and time I don't care about, written in an obsolete style and with an offensive attitude".

Does that mean that I'm sorry that I read it? 

No. Not at all.  For me, reading Steamboats on the Saskatchewan helps correct and enlarge the story of the history of the province that I was told growing up, especially given that I've read it in conjunction with a number of related books that make this book both more understandable and more interesting. It helped reinforce for me that the history of Saskatchewan is not just the story of the settlers like my grandparents, great-grandparents, and great-great grandparents who "broke the land" and founded its cities. 

How Minds Change: The Surprising Science of Belief, Opinion, and Persuasion by David McRaney

 This is another "I found it randomly in the library" book, picked up because I saw it on the shelf while I was looking for something else. Unlike Orlanda, this didn't turn out to be something I was really glad I'd found, but I still learned something from the book.

So, we live in a polarized 'post-fact' world, where at least online there is no agreed baseline set of facts and we all belong to subgroups where 'the truth' is obvious and all outsiders are clearly misguided fools. It can seem impossible or futile to speak to those who do not share our beliefs because it seems impossible to persuade others that even the most ridiculous ideas are wrong. (Flat earthers anyone?)

Do we all give up? Are facts useless? Persuasion impossible?

This book draws upon a variety of sociological, psychological, and political research to argue that not only is persuasion possible, it is foundational to human societies. It then goes on to provide some "how to" recipes.

What did I think? Well, I'm not convinced by some of the research that the author quotes (for example, McRaney refers to some 1950s/60s studies that I think may have been debunked, based on other reading I've done). And as many of the StoryGraph reviews mention, the book itself sometimes feels a bit repetitive, and the arguments overdrawn. But I did draw a few insights that I'll carry with me:

• People are tribal. Asking folks to change what they believe can be the same as asking them to change which group they identify with, and therefore fundamentally asking them to change who they believe they are. (It's shameful that issues like climate change have been 'politicized' in this way by evil assholes, but here we are.)
• "Facts don't matter" in a discussion of this nature, because which facts are relevant or important to a speaker depends on what they value, how they feel about an issue, and which community they feel they belong to. (Facts matter to those of a scientific/technical bent, because adherence to facts is a key principle of belonging to a scientificly/technically literate community).
• People can and do change their minds, even about fundamental issues, sometimes apparently very quickly. For example, remember how quickly North American society switched to supporting gay marriage (polls within a 5 year span changed from 70% against to 70+% in favour).
• You can't change someone's mind, but you can have a discussion that prompts people to change their own minds.  Productive conversations focus on discussing the process of how people have come to have a belief, not the supporting evidence for the belief.
• Why do you want to change someone's mind? Ask yourself that question before proceeding.

McRaney provides a number of templates for how to have persuasive conversations, based on the work of several different organizations/people who independently developed similar techniques. In practise, using these techniques effectively requires empathy, curiosity, and a lot of practise and feedback. So fear not! You will not have your mind changed by reading this blog entry.

Here's one example of a template, based on the work of a Californian organization that does "deep canvassing" in support of ballot initiatives for LGBTQ+ rights:

1. Establish rapport: Your intention is to explore their reasoning, not to shame them for their beliefs. Ask their consent for the conversation.
2. Ask how strongly they feel about their belief on a scale of 1 to 10.
3. Share a story about someone (perhaps yourself) who is affected by the issue. Ask if that changes the 'number' for that person. If the number changes, ask why.
4. "Why does that number feel right to you?" Explore how and why the person has their level of certainty. Ask questions. 
5. Once they have summarized their reasons, repeat their conclusions back to them until they agree that you have summarized accurately.
6. Ask if there was a time in their life before they felt this way, and if so, what led them to their current attitude.
7. Listen, summarize, repeat.
8. Briefly share your personal story of how you reached your position, but do not argue.
9. Ask for their rating a final time, wrap up, thank them for their time and wish them well.

The key part of all of these techniques is getting the person you are speaking with to reflect on why they hold the position that they do, and why they have the level of certainty that they claim. Other templates prompt questioners to ask "why not a 1?" or  "why not a 10?" "Have you always been a 9 on this issue? When or how did you come to that conclusion?" What information would have to change for you to be a 1/10?" "Why do you think that someone with the same information you have might draw a different conclusion?"    

In other words, we all have a variety of beliefs on a variety of subjects, some of which we hold strongly, and some of which we have never examined carefully. By careful and empathetic questioning, we can prompt others to examine their own beliefs, and sometimes, change their own minds.  Not necessarily immediately and not necessarily 180 degrees, but in real and significant ways.

Which is an encouraging idea in a discouraging world.

Johannes Gutenberg: A Biography in Books by Eric Marshall White

 This is a book for Wikipedia editors who are accustomed to beginning discussions of their contributions with "Well, actually...."   In other words you could call it "meticulously researched" (as the Storygraph AI summary does), even though words like 'precise' and 'persnickety' were the ones that kept leaping to mind as I read.

But that's not actually a diss!  This is also a book for those who are interested in how we know what we think we know about history.  As White traces each historical reference that credits (or ignores) Gutenberg's contribution to the invention of movable type, you get a much better sense of the fragility of historical records, and of how our sense of our joint past is created both by the stories we tell one another and by the information we retain or lose as time passes. 

The book is also full of fascinating details, like the fact that Johan Fust, Gutenberg's business partner, made the then-largest order of paper in European history to print the (probably) 158 copies of what we now call the Gutenberg Bible. Or that we can tell that 6 different teams of printers working in concert produced that bible, based on differences in ink composition, paper, and the minor printing discrepancies between the various 'quires' of the books of the bible.  It was also interesting to learn that the Gutenberg bible was *not* the first widely distributed piece of printed material -- that honour probably goes to a mass of indulgences that Gutenberg printed for the church the year before (that were intended to raise money for a campaign against Muslims after an attack on Cypress). 

I found Johannes Gutenberg: A Biography in Books an interesting read, even if I personally have no particular interest in printing, medieval history, or Johannes Gutenberg per se.  Recommended for students of any of those subjects, or for those, like me, who sometimes enjoy learning random things.

Orlanda: A Novel by Jacqueline Harpman

 So this novel is an example of why I don't keep "To read" lists, why I hate searching for something to read in Libby, and why think that the internet and the algorithm is the death of discovery.

I would never have picked this book up if I hadn't run across it in the library.  Orlanda was on a "New titles" shelf near the door, and somehow the combination of the title, its 50s style modernist cover, and the note under the author's name stating "author of I who have never known men" (which I think I've heard of?) whimpelled me to pick it up. ('Whimpelled' is an inadvertent coinage, but it's perfectly apt so its staying). 

I took it out.  I read it almost immediately.  I'm really glad I ran across it.

Bookstores. Libraries. Physical copies of books that enter your life, and sometimes wait patiently on your shelf for years until it's the right time for you to read them. That's how I want my reading life to unfold.

Anyway, what is this book, and why am I glad to have found it?  Orlanda was inspired by Orlando by Virginia Wolf, and our heroine is in fact reading Orlando as the novel opens. Unlike Orlando, where the protagonist mysteriously changes gender multiple times over a fantastically long life, in Orlanda the protagonist looks up from her reading, bored, at a beautiful young man having a coffee in the same cafe -- and half of her soul leaps. From that point on, half of Aline remains Aline, 35 year-old literature professor with a staid life, and half becomes the carefree, carelessly sexual Lucien Lefrene. 

This is not a novel premise for a novel -- viz Orlando, of course, but also Larque on the Wing by Nancy Springer (winner of the 1994 Tiptree award). What makes Orlanda compelling is the execution.  The writing is wonderful.  

Let us listen too for awhile.  Schumann had such a brief life that we owe it to him to devote a few moments to his music. Time kills us, second after second, and we fools continue to be impatient. Oh! for tomorrow, next week, for the moment we're awaiting finally to come. But, reckless soul, it will all end! Suppose you tried instead to enjoy the present? Stop, listen. Your heart is beating, thick blood flows through your veins, you are alive, make the most of it now, don't say that enjoyment will come later. It's here, it's happening now, and it won't last long, every note of the concerto dies away. When you come to the end of the first movement, you can play the record again, but you can't restart the record of your life, for that is only played once.

And the structure is interesting too.  The story is told by 'the author', who addresses the reader directly, as in the passage above, explaining, exhorting, popping into the perspectives of Aline, Lucien, Orlanda, Orlanda's lover, Lucien's sister, etc. as needed to move the story along.  It's lovely to read something that isn't in the ubiquitous "close third person" that is de rigeur in modern genre fiction.  And it's lovely to occasionally read something literary.

What is the message of the book? Of course, as in Larque, Harpman chooses a sexy 20 year old gay male persona to be the foil for her middle-aged female protagonist. But the sex (from which 'the author' mostly deliberately and prudishly turns her face and her pen) isn't the point. The point is both to compare the freedom and care-freedom possible in young male life with the repression and responsibility common to 'properly raised' middle class women. (One of Orlanda's first acts after being freed from Aline is to bound energetically across a station platform to catch his train, enjoying the exhilaration of unself-conscious movement, the freedom not to care about snagging his stockings or looking weird.)  But Harpman digs deeper too.  The two halves of Aline's severed soul both relish their freedom from one another, but they are also increasingly attracted to ..... Each other? Themselves?  Would we be our own perfect companions? What do we need from others? What do we need from ourselves?

Just a few of the questions that Orlanda raises, but of course does not answer because this is literature, not a user manual.

An enjoyable brief read, republished in English to mark the 30th anniversary of its original publication in French.  (A book that would be very different if written today, as highlighted by the new afterword provided by a modern novelist who ponders and then rejects the hypothesis that Aline is trans.)