Comedy fans of a certain age may recall the “Monty Python’s Flying Circus” sketch about the legendary highwayman Dennis Moore, a deranged Robin Hood who steals so much from the rich to the give to the poor that he ends up stealing from the poor to give to the rich. “Blimey,” Dennis declares upon realizing the conundrum, “this redistribution of wealth is trickier than I thought.”
That a careful analysis of the current state of Canadian literature indicates these “marginalized voices” are already moderately over-represented doesn’t seem to diminish the enthusiasm of Canada’s cultural Dennis Moores. Because if you spend any time in the literary world—at readings, conferences, festivals—you’ll hear people talk of the need to fight the white, male dominance of Canadian literature. You may come upon articles with headlines like “The Unbearable Whiteness of Canadian Literature” (an actual headline in The Walrus, the magazine that endeavours to be Canada’s answer to The New Yorker).
And if you are a writer looking to submit your work, you’ll see publishers’ messages like this one, from the small Ontario literary publisher Book*hug (best-known for changing its name from Bookthug on the grounds that the second syllable is racist): “We aim to ensure that our catalogue is reflective of an inclusive and multicultural Canada. We especially welcome work by indigenous writers, writers of colour, LGBTQ2S+ writers, deaf and disabled writers, and women.”
A few years ago, I began keeping track of special measures intended to combat the supposed white, male domination of our literary world. The list I came up with included publishers opening up submissions only for BIPOC writers, literary magazines running special racially designated issues, a venerable national short-story competition being opened only to black writers, mentorship programs and conferences to help emerging BIPOC writers advance, a fellowship to support refugee and immigrant writers that’s only open to BIPOC women, a writer-in-residence position that’s only available to BIPOC writers, a new publishing imprint that’s only for BIPOC writers, and a heavily promoted and well-funded literary festival that’s only open to BIPOC writers, plus a few whites who check disability or LGBT boxes.
These measures—mostly funded through government grants, with some support from private foundations—are defended as necessary to counter the long-term effects of white, male hegemony.
As a novelist and former longtime book news columnist, the image of CanLit suggested by proponents of these affirmative action measures didn’t jibe with what I saw. So I went looking for evidence to confirm or refute the existence of this white, male domination.
What I found, after looking at 32 years’ worth of the shortlists for Canada’s most prestigious literary prize, the Giller, at the 115 books featured on CBC’s Canada Reads since 2002, at the lineups of four randomly selected literary festivals, and at a half dozen “Writers to Watch” features on the CBC website, is that women and BIPOC writers have in recent years been over-represented among the writers getting the most visibility for their work. They aren’t over-represented by a lot, but they are certainly not under-represented.
I stress that there’s nothing sinister about this. Publishers and writers may be inspired by hits like Lawrence Hill’s “The Book of Negroes” or Michelle Good’s “Five Little Indians.” And if women are over-represented among Canadian writers, well, don’t women buy more books than men?
Beyond that, though, government diversity policies likely play an even larger role. Canadian publishers, writers’ organizations and festivals all depend on funding from federal, provincial and in many cases municipal governments. Prominently meeting diversity targets helps to keep the funding taps open.
I am not suggesting that publishers, agents, festivals, or anybody else in the literary world should put together lists of books with an eye on the most recent census data. Nor am I suggesting that unworthy books are being published as a result of diversity pressures; the reality of publishing is that many well-written and thought-provoking works languish forever in slush piles.
But I do have concerns about public funds being dispersed on exclusionary grounds, for reasons that can’t be supported by any data, while creating an environment that encourages writers and readers to think in racial (and gender-based) boxes.