Published: September 17, 2019
Poetry / Indigenous
Paperback: 9781773101019 $19.95
From the author: I cannot let the story of Crow Gulch — the story of my family and, subsequently, my own story — go untold. This book is my attempt to resurrect dialogue and story, to honour who and where I come from, to remind Corner Brook of the glaring omission in its social history.
In his debut poetry collection, Douglas Walbourne-Gough reflects on the legacy of a community that sat on the shore of the Bay of Islands, less than two kilometres west of downtown Corner Brook.
Walbourne-Gough lyrically sifts through archival memory and family accounts, resurrecting story and conversation, to patch together a history of a people and place. Here he finds his own identity within the legacy of Crow Gulch and reminds those who have forgotten of a glaring omission in history.
Poet. Newfoundlander. Mixed/adopted Mi’kmaw. Life is hyphenated.
Walbourne-Gough’s father’s family lived in Crow Gulch until the community was legally ushered out, mostly relocating to Corner Brook’s first social housing project, Dunfield Park. Walbourne-Gough holds an MFA in creative writing from UBC-Okanagan. His poetry has appeared in Riddle Fence, Canadian Literature, Prairie Fire, Newfoundland Quarterly, QWERTY, Forget Magazine, the Capilano Review, and Contemporary Verse 2. Crow Gulch is his debut collection.
"Crow Gulch announces an important poet. The differences Douglas Walbourne-Gough explores between class and ethnicities are as hard as Newfoundland's rock, as shifting as the foundations of a forcibly resettled Crow Gulch. This book is a conversation between a rude landscape, the displaced or dispossessed, and a narrator searching for belonging." — Stephanie McKenzie
"Bent low and clund to a coast, Walbourne-Gough lets the land shape him. Brilliant and weathered observation interlaces family and archive to render present and necessary the memory of Crow Gulch. Here is a day's labour, a fretting walk along the tracks, a house 'that lets in snow at the seams,' grandmother's kitchen. Hear still 'her peals of laughter against the far shore and all that lives on in this book.'" — Cecily Nicholson