Douglas Walbourne-Gough returns to published collections of poetry with his second collection Island, dealing with his identity as a mixed/adopted member of Qalipu First Nation, what it means to belong to Newfoundland Mi’kmaq communities, and the division in communities and his family. This is a particularly raw collection of poetry, I felt, the blank verse tumbling across the page in a cry to be read and felt.
The collection was written in the wake of a series of challenges and controversies around Qalipu First Nation and the federal government, as well as the difficulty of colonial structures being bound up in the recognition of peoples. Walbourne-Gough details his own pain: a son with a biological father who walked out of his life, and a father who chose to take him on, a father and family who welcomed him into their homes, lives, and culture. Who is he? Who are his people? Who can say who you are? And how can you quantify your memories and relationships to satisfy external parties? How can you connect with your heritage when it’s so tangled up in the things people won’t say, and the things that people tell you about yourself?
Walbourne-Gough is tough on himself throughout Island, sorting through a life of not feeling quite right, of being a child who caused so much strife early on by his mere existence (again, the blaming of a child who did nothing wrong but be a tangible reminder of what others consider to be sins or crimes or character blemishes or whatever). I heard someone talk about art as therapy, and I think that’s what Walbourne-Gough is doing in this collection: trying to heal by writing about it. It’s far less about the form, and more about the emotion on the page. Walbourne-Gough, however, is often harshest on himself:
Agh, enough! Enough of this
self-punishment, enough tough talk
of rock and wind, so much effort
just to hide in plain sight.
For me, reading this collection, in which there is a very clear story of grappling with identity and belonging, and the raw anger of being always rejected, either implicitly or explicitly by the structures of a colonial government, was tough. Walbourne-Gough doesn’t leave you with any question about how these events made him feel, or how the ripples of pain continue to echo across his life. It’s also interesting to read a collection of poetry that isn’t so preoccupied with form; this was the first in a long time for me, and while I do like explorations of form, I came away feeling that adherence to a form might have diluted what Walbourne-Gough was doing here. Island is a challenge, but should you decide to meet it, know that you’ll be witnessing a very unique expression of emotion.
Douglas Walbourne-Gough is a poet and mixed/adopted status member of the Qalipu Mi’kmaq First Nation from Elmastukwek (the Bay of Islands), Ktaqmkuk (Newfoundland). His poetry has appeared in numerous publications, including Best Canadian Poetry in English, Grain, and the Fiddlehead, and has won the Riddle Fence Poetry Prize.
Walbourne-Gough’s debut collection, Crow Gulch, won the E.J. Pratt Poetry Award. It was also a finalist for NL Reads, the Derek Walcott Prize for Poetry, and the Raymond Souster Award, and was longlisted for the First Nations Communities READ. Island is his second book of poetry. It won the 2025 J. M. Abraham Atlantic Poetry Award and was longlisted for First Nations Communities READ.
Publisher: Goose Lane Editions (Oct 1, 2024)
Paperback 8″ x 6″
ISBN: 9781773103396
Alison Manley has ricocheted between New Brunswick and Nova Scotia for most of her life. Now in Halifax, Nova Scotia, she is the Cataloguing and Metadata Librarian at Saint Mary's University. Her past life includes a long stint as a hospital librarian on the banks of the mighty Miramichi River. She has an honours BA in political science and English from St. Francis Xavier University, and a Master of Library and Information Studies from Dalhousie University. While she's adamant that her love of reading has nothing to do with her work, her ability to consume large amounts of information very quickly sure is helpful. She is often identified by her very red lipstick, and lives with her partner Brett and cat, Toasted Marshmallow.
- Alison Manleyhttps://miramichireader.ca/author/alison-manley/
- Alison Manleyhttps://miramichireader.ca/author/alison-manley/
- Alison Manleyhttps://miramichireader.ca/author/alison-manley/
- Alison Manleyhttps://miramichireader.ca/author/alison-manley/
- Alison Manleyhttps://miramichireader.ca/author/alison-manley/
- Alison Manleyhttps://miramichireader.ca/author/alison-manley/
