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The winner of the Governor General's Literary Award for Fiction, Marian Engel's most famous - and most controversial - novel tells the unforgettable story of a woman transformed by a primal, erotic relationship. Lou is a lonely librarian who spends her days in the dusty archives of the Historical Institute. When an unusual field assignment comes her way, she jumps at the chance to travel to a remote island in northern Ontario, where she will spend the summer cataloguing a library that belonged to an eccentric nineteenth-century colonel. Eager to investigate the estate's curious history, she is shocked to discover that the island has one other inhabitant: a bear. Lou's imagination is soon overtaken by the island's past occupants, whose deep fascination with bears gradually becomes her own. Irresistibly, Lou is led along a path of emotional and sexual self-awakening, as she explores the limits of her own animal nature. What she discovers will change her life forever. As provocative and powerful now as when it was first published. Includes a reading group guide.… (more)
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In the opening paragraph of Bear, archivist Lou is described as mole-like. The historical institute she works for has recently been bequeathed a small
Bear is one of those chewy literary books that you can read straight up, or pull apart and explore the layers and symbolism. The author started this when the Writer’s Union of Canada put out a call to established authors to write a piece of pornography (a project that was abandoned when the submissions that came in were dreadfully unpublishable). But Engels ran with the idea. As Margaret Atwood says in her blurb for the book (and I note that something about this reminds me of Atwood’s own book Surfacing), the bear sex is “as plausible as kitchens,” and the short novel is indeed written in a realistic style. But there are a thousand other things going on too. The main one is how Engels plays with and subverts the CanLit canon with its ubiquitous themes of the transformative powers of wilderness, the savage, nature, man against the wilderness, etc and so on. Then there’s the whole second wave feminist sexual awakening trope. But the one that I keep coming back to is—despite the realism—a fabulist feel. Is Bear a play on “Beauty and the Beast”? Or “Snow White and Rose Red”? Or with the lonely octagonal house as one of the characters, is it Gothic? It’s all of these.
My edition had a nice afterword written by university professor Aretha Van Herk that goes over some of the deeper meanings for those readers who got stuck on the sexy bear stuff.
Bear was awarded the Governor General’s Award for Literature, in a year when the jury included Mordecai Richler, Margaret Laurence, and Alice Munro. In places, the writing is absolutely gorgeous, and I can’t stop thinking about this book (and it’s not the bear porn that’s sticking in my mind).
Recommended for: It’s only 115 pages, so if you think it sounds interesting, give it a try. It’s definitely a not-to-be-missed book for anyone who is serious about reading CanLit. I wish I could have studied this at university—it would have been so much fun.
Why I Read This Now: Bear has been in my TBR pile for a while, but I thought to suggest it to my book club after discussion of it went viral on the internet this summer. In my book club, we vote on the books we will read, and every single member voted to read Bear. I look forward to the upcoming discussion.
Rating: Great writing + interesting story + librarian hero + humour + bravery of writing erotica + CanLit playfulness + literary influences = 4.5 stars.
“It was the night of the falling stars. She took him to the riverbank. They swam in the still, black water. They did not play. They were serious that night. They swam in circles around each other, very solemnly. Then they went to the shore, and instead of shaking himself on her, he lay beside her and licked the water from her body while she, on her back, let the stars fall, one, two, fourteen, a million, it seemed, falling on her, ready to burn her. Once she reached up to one, it seemed so close, but its brightness faded from her grasp, faded into the milky way.”
For me, being a bibliophile and a misanthrope, the character is living a perfect fantasy: Alone in a huge house on an island for the summer cataloging a huge library of rare books. However she didn’t use LibraryThing! (Shame on her!)
Okay, there is bestiality, but Engel handles it very well. The only other book I have ever read that contained bestiality but was really great writing was “The Castle of Communion” by Bernard Noel. (I highly recommend that book too.)
Engel must have gone to a zoo or something and really studied bear movements and habits, because she describes the bear’s behavior perfectly: the way he moves his head, the way he walks, the occasions when he rises to two feet, the way he swims, etc.
This is a really great read. The entire book could be read in two hours or less, however I took much longer because I was savoring sentences and going back and rereading parts.
Highly recommended.
The novel is a strange weaving of realism and delusional fantasies: “Bear,” she would say to him, tempting him, “I am only a human woman. Tear my thin skin with your clattering claws” (97). But when in the climactic scene he does rip her bare skin, all her hopes of sexual consummation are shattered and their relationship is instantly over: “Go,” she screamed (108). The book ends with the bear passive, manipulated, his fate a desensitized pawn for human needs. There is never a true polarizing of the solitary academic life of a librarian and raw genuine nature in the novel, and so the book’s final mystery is what Lou’s epiphany could possibly be? What did she really need, want, and find?
"she,"Lou, the little basement mole, methodically plans how she will approach the coveted library.
Recently bequeathed to the Museum, the Island, the amazing Fowler Octagon House,
and Colonel Cary's library immediately
But it is the unfortunately chained BEAR who opens her, body and soul, to life.
Marian Engel's short, terse sentences make both compelling and beautiful reading.
Had Hemingway been a more decent human and a woman, he would have been proud
to have written this gently erotic and unforgettable novel.
The boatman, Homer, weaves in and out of the story, yet it is Lucy who walks off with our love.
1976 Governor
1976, 141 pp.
Bestiality is a strange theme for an award-winner
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PLOT OR PREMISE:
A historical librarian gets a chance to catalog the books at a remote island home for a summer in Northern Ontario, and encounters locals, free time to figure out her life, and a pet bear.
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WHAT I LIKED:
This book was given
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WHAT I DIDN'T LIKE:
I found the romanticization of the relationship with the bear a bit odd, as was the depersonalization of her other sexual partners during the summer. I also felt there were gaps in the ending -- we saw what she intended to do, not what she would do once she was back in Toronto.
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DISCLOSURE:
I received no compensation, not even a free copy, in exchange for this review. I was not personal friends with the author.
(2019)
We follow Lou, a lonely archivist living in Toronto who is sent to a small island with an octagonal