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Vivian Gerow
Wrapping herself up in the hopelessness of it all, she turns to the song and dwells behind blue eyes where dreams are empty, and hours are lonely. The Who felt it too, felt it better. Does it have ...view moreWrapping herself up in the hopelessness of it all, she turns to the song and dwells behind blue eyes where dreams are empty, and hours are lonely. The Who felt it too, felt it better. Does it have to be this way?
I was born in a small town in the interior of British Columbia, from which I was rescued when my father decided he had at last seen enough snow, and we moved to the coast. My rescue was accomplished only over my loud and long objections. I was about to discover that the safeness and sameness of our small town came at a cost. I literally went from reading Harlequin romances to the writings of fritz pearl and Carl Rogers: my mother had returned to university and she left interesting books around. That was when I knew I wanted to understand how relationships worked, but the truth of it, and not some tidy and polite version. I didn't yet know that fiction was the best format to explore human experience. That came at SFU. The writings of Faulkner told me that even in safeness and sameness, truths could be found. The ordinary could be revelatory. We just had to look. I've been looking ever since. There is something in everything. ”view less