A Year at River Mountain
- Publisher
- Thistledown Press
- Initial publish date
- Sep 2012
- Subjects
- Literary
-
eBook
- ISBN
- 9781927068328
- Publish Date
- Sep 2012
Library Ordering Options
Description
Part intellectual mystery and part spiritual adventure, A Year at River Mountain tells the story of an aging actor from Vancouver who has immersed himself in monastic life inChina and is now examining his past as an actor, husband,and father. As his Western consciousness grapples with Taoist philosophies and acupressure techniques, he assesses his life and records the struggles of transformation that accompanysuch thinking. The monastery’s Old Master has given the narrator permission to write the commentary he shares with us while raising the question of who reader and narrator really are. Kenyon balances the narrator’s interior life with hints of external disturbance and with purposeful missions outside the monastery where village unrest threatens the monks’ balance and harmony. Crises build as war threatens, floods occur, and a devastating event leads our narrator to a beautiful and surprising formulation of how things are.
About the author
Michael Kenyon was born in Sale, England, and has lived on the West Coast since 1967. He’s the author of eleven books of poetry and fiction. The Beautiful Children won the 2010 ReLit Award for best novel. Other work has been shortlisted for the ReLit Award, the Commonwealth Writers Prize, the SmithBooks/Books in Canada First Novel Award, the Baxter Hathaway Prize (Cornell) in fiction, The Malahat Review Novella Prize, Prism international’s fiction contest (won twice), the Journey Prize, and the National and Western Magazine Awards. He has adjudicated for the Banff Centre writing program, for the BC Arts Council, and for the Saskatchewan Arts Board. He has been employed as a seaman, a diver, and a taxi driver. Presently he works as a freelance editor and a therapist, and divides his week between Pender Island and Vancouver.
Excerpt: A Year at River Mountain (by (author) Michael Kenyon)
Across the lawn they come, the doctors, in a small group, laughing and talking together and, amazing thing, the central figure, a tall man in a white shirt with an open collar, stops, and a tear rolls down his left cheek, then a second. He holds up his hands to mask his face. There is a word to describe this kind of waiting, but I can’t remember it, only the shape, like the double curve a child draws to suggest a bird in flight. The other word, the writing-journey word, is more alive, closer but still elusive. The doctor’s hands meet in prayer, in front of his throat.