Something Familiar

There is a soundtrack playing in my ears as I sit on the train travelling across South across Ontario towards my tiny hometown, wondering if these are the same farmlands dotted with dilapidated barns that are being described in Elizabeth and After. Sufjan Stevens sings to me songs about the landscapes of the Midwest as Cohen’s words echo his evocative descriptions.

Cohen's descriptions are so vivid that I find myself wondering if anyone has considered adapting this novel to film? If they did, this song would certainly be part of the soundtrack. Click below to listen to the song. Don't you agree?

The West Gull Cemetery announces itself with a twenty-foot-high stone archway of quarries limestone. Its gates are black wrought iron wth silver tips and fittings, and the matching fence stretches hundreds of yards along the highway. Located on a high and windswept plateau, it offers a unique view and flattering perspective on Long Gull Lake, the town of West Gull itself and the rich surrounding farmland. Even a stranger would be impressed…she passed through the archway, drifted a palm along the silky-slick surface of the limestone, stepped gingerly onto the moist dense grass. (Cohen 1)

Is that the same place where I grew up? Cohen’s descriptions are so rich, so vivid, that I can’t help but see them playing in front of me.

On the day of the funeral, Long Gull Lake was a distant stretch of snow dotted with fishing huts merging into the grey sky. The town, so picturesque in summer, was just a jumble of metal and asphalt roofs, columns of smoke rising straight into the still air. The fertile farmland was a barren waste with a few clusters of houses and barns. (Cohen 2)

Already, I am sifting through my iPhoto album, looking for images that fit these descriptions. But quickly, these pastoral scenes turn dark as they become stained with foreshadowed tragedy in this sleepy town, and we realize that the story that follows is about those left reeling from this woman’s presence.

Nothing was said about the blood in the snow but there was a lot ¬– more than you would think a body could hold. In some places it had clotted into frozen puddles, in others it was scattered in long splotched whips like scarlet maple taffy. (Cohen 3)