The Ravenstones

In my last post, I spoke about the prose and artistry of the English author, Robert Gibbings, who wrote in mid-20th century about his life along the Thames River.

The only Canadian writer I know who wrote in a similar fashion to Gibbings was Bruce Hutchison (1901-92), whose A Life in the Country employs the same kind of pastoral imagery and seasonal flow: planting, nurturing, harvesting and rest (lying fallow).

The acclaimed biographer, editor and journalist (Winnipeg Free Press, Victoria Times and Vancouver Sun) acquired a small acreage at Shawnigan Lake, B.C., in 1924. The tiny rural community lies about 44 km (27 miles) north of Victoria, on Vancouver Island. Here, Hutchison lived off and on for the rest of his life.

The book, about Hutchison’s private life rather than his journalistic accomplishments, captures the sights, sounds and scents of each season, interspersed with anecdotes about the many colorful characters he encounters and observations about life and human follies. Like Gibbings, his style is lyrical and evocative, reflecting “a life of small joys”, capturing a region that I know so well.

Here are the illustrations (by Marion Dahl) for each season, with an accompanying quote:

“One day, puttering around our wilderness cabin, we watched spring ripen to maturity as a flock of Canada geese moved north. Though they flew high, we could hear their honking, even the whisper of their wings and read the native script legible to all Canadians, filled with gladness and regret.” (p. 24)

“In August came the drought. We could almost hear the forest panting, choking and smothering as its thirsty root web sucked up from parched soil the last drops of summer rain. Even the forest’s scent had changed. It was no longer soothing to the nostrils but sharp, biting, acrid.” (p. 59)

“Sometimes autumn will come late in the forest, straining on summer’s traces. Hot days may continue all through September. But three months after the June solstice the sun’s declining meridian is marked by the most casual eye. The play of slanting sunlight on the gnarled firs, the webbed bark of the cedars and silken holes of the arbutus, behind them gulfs of shadow daubed here and there by the yellow maple leaves just before they fell, paint a picture seen only in autumn.” (p. 78)

“At its beginning, the night of dreadful memory in our young days outside Victoria was calm. A gentle breeze ruffled the slim lombardy poplars beside the road. Clouds like fleece moved slowly across the crescent of a new moon. Except for an owl’s croak the December countryside was mute.” (p. 112)

These excerpts only scrape the barrel of what is offered (for less than $20 it can be bought on Biblio). For those interested, BC Bookworld provides more insight into Hutchison and his legacy.