Sideshow Concessions
- Publisher
- Invisible Publishing
- Initial publish date
- Oct 2015
- Subjects
- LGBT, General, General
-
eBook
- ISBN
- 9781926743639
- Publish Date
- Oct 2015
Library Ordering Options
Description
Sideshow Concessions is the first book from queer performer and scholar Lucas Crawford. A collection populated by the circus-like bodies and experiences of a narrator navigating rural pasts and urban presents, Sideshow Concessions is the unofficial story of someone who is both a bearded lady and the fattest man in the world.
"Sideshow Confessions is an accessible glimpse at the absurd — a clever look at a trans narrative which explores its challenges without drowning in them... Crawford’s sense of humour is a breath of fresh air."—Broken Pencil
“Sideshow Concessions is fresh, honest, heartbreaking, and funny, with turns of phrase equally intelligent and moving.”—Karen Solie
About the author
Lucas Crawford is the Ruth Wynn Woodward Endowment Lecturer at Simon Fraser University, where he teaches in the Department of Gender, Sexuality, and Women’s Studies. His poetry has appeared in Room, Rampike, PRISM International, The Antigonish Review, SubTerrain, Other Voices, and The Nashwaak Review, as well as the anthology Between: New Gay Poetry. Crawford's poems won the the Writers’ Federation of Nova Scotia's Atlantic Writing Competition and are currently nominated for the Pushcart Prize. He's based in Vancouver.
Awards
- Winner, Robert Kroetsch Award For Innovative Poetry
- Winner, Robert Kroetsch Award for Innovative Poetry
Excerpt: Sideshow Concessions (by (author) Lucas Crawford)
Eating Chinese in Kingston, Nova Scotia (Population: 5174)
Sweet and sour pork has always been on the menu. It has always tasted like this. It always will…[Its] story functions as…the genesis of fake Chinese food. It would be the story of the creation of Chineseness specifically for Western consumption…The story of sweet and sour pork suggests the creation and circulation of a Chineseness that is a substitute for the authentic, timeless, and unchanging other of settler colonial consuming desires.
—Lily Cho, Eating Chinese: Culture on the Menu in Small-Town Canada
“Oh, I don’t actually eat this stuff,”
the waitress responds to my question of
“what’s your favourite dish?”
(Her word is “stuff” but the intonation is “shit.”)
Then: “I take it you’re an expert?”
Gum snaps, I stammer. Mom smiles.
Bao Loc: where piercings and pink shirt
read as urban attitude,
where a fat food-lover tries,
gingerly, to order light,
where the white waitress
must bring peanut butter sandwiches
for dinner each night.
It reopened this week with new management,
new paint, one new menu item.
We hem and haw, Mom and me,
but go for the new one: “the pad thai, please.”
The one Thai supplement to the maple-leafed
catalogue of Chinese:
onion rings, fluorescent-sauced meat,
perennially sweet but never actually sour.
We wait half an hour for egg rolls
while the new owners pace, sweat, stare.
We’re in Kingston, where the highway exit
and entrance are on opposite sides of town.
A tourism strategy or a warning to kid queers:
to get out, you’ve got to go through.
Must drive past Bao Loc, must drive past
two-ton statue of a bull with balls.
Last week we bought pork belly from the farm up the old road.
Bulk-buying pork is kosher in a town
where the civic festival is a cow roast.
(Three cows, actually—
and the one that leads the festival parade
never sees it coming.)
Bao Loc used to be called Me Kong.
Fried rice, battered chicken, curtained VLTs.
Before that, it was an apartment. The side door
has a screen and is tied shut with rope.
The owner of our village’s non-chain grocery store
hung himself in 2003, between his local apples
and the bananas. It’s dog eat dog
and the new Sobeys carries fish sauce
(though this pad thai has none).
It has lime, soy, and more than enough sugar
to candy-coat the unknown truths
about what life might be like off the grid
of the old Acadian Lines bus routes.
Out there, people think they already know us.
But this place and these noodles withhold
like empty fortune cookies
held to the ear to hear the ocean.
Editorial Reviews
“Lucas Crawford’s first book of poetry, Sideshow Concessions, is a stunner.”—Michael Dennis
“Like its speaker, Sideshow Concessions defies easy characterization—slim enough to carry in your back pocket (I carried mine for weeks), yet with heft enough to warrant multiple readings. These poems are fat, juicy bites of life, rich with experience—not always tender, but never tough.”—Plenitude Magazine
"Sideshow Confessions is an accessible glimpse at the absurd — a clever look at a trans narrative which explores its challenges without drowning in them. For this reason, I can happily recommend it. Invisible Publishing has printed a snappy, good looking product, and Crawford’s sense of humour is a breath of fresh air."—Broken Pencil
“Sideshow Concessions is fresh, honest, heartbreaking, and funny, with turns of phrase equally intelligent and moving.”—Karen Solie
"Something about this poetry collection made me feel really seen. It made me feel like an insider, with the experiences about growing up in rural Canadian towns, the references to Nova Scotian musicians, the Can Lit jokes... When many of these cultural references are straight and cis-washed, it’s so refreshing to have a queer and trans poet like Lucas Crawford writing about them. These references are ours too, Crawford insists."—Casey the Canadian Lesbrarian
Reviewers