A new anthology celebrates the next generation of Black Canadian writers
David Chariandy and Téa Mutonji talk about the Journey Prize anthology for the best Black Canadian writing
"I think it's up to us writers to break free from the obligation to represent a certain kind of literature when it comes to Black writing," writer Téa Mutonji told The Next Chapter.
Named a writer to watch by CBC Books in 2020, Mutonji is a Scarborough, Ont.-based author. Her short story collection Shut up, You're Pretty won the 2020 Trillium Book Award. Now her work is featured in The Journey Prize Stories 33, the new edition of the Journey Prize's annual anthology.
The anthology is associated with the Writers' Trust McClelland & Stewart Journey Prize, a $10,000 award that recognizes the year's best unpublished fiction from emerging writers. This year's edition focuses solely on stories from the best emerging Back Canadian writers.
Writer David Chariandy selected the stories alongside award-winning authors Esi Edugyan and Canisia Lubrin.
Born in Scarborough and now based in Vancouver, Chariandy is the author of three books: the 2017 coming-of-age novel Brother, the 2007 novel Soucouyant and the 2018 nonfiction work I've Been Meaning to Tell You: A Letter to My Daughter. He is currently a professor in the English department at Simon Fraser University, teaching literature and creative writing.
Chariandy and Mutonji spoke with The Next Chapter columnist and CBC Books producer Ryan B. Patrick about what went into the making of the 33rd edition of The Journey Prize Stories.
Canisia Lubrin, David Chariandy and Esi Edugyan. That's a powerhouse selection committee. David, what were you looking for in these stories and how collaborative was this process?
David Chariandy: I felt tremendously honoured to be working with Esi and Canisia on this project. We are three very different writers. It's quite extraordinary the consensus we had on the pieces. They were very different pieces so it wasn't as if there was a single esthetic guiding our choices.
There is so much tremendously strong Black writing in Canada right now. We could fill two or three anthologies.- David Chariandy
We read the pieces individually, very carefully, I remember the discussions raising details about the individual pieces that spoke to the care in the reading. There were some pieces that instantly grabbed all three of us, but there were other pieces that maybe one or two of us were quite passionate about and then, we invited the other person to have a second read. Those pieces ended up being as compelling as the ones in which there was just immediate consensus.
It was a valuable part of the experience to work with writers whom I profoundly respect. The whole experience was excellent. and agonizing in certain ways, too, because there is so much tremendously strong Black writing in Canada right now. We could fill two or three anthologies, not to mention the works that had such incredible potential. Just to know that there's so much out there was revelatory for me.
LISTEN | David Chariandy on his book Brother:
The book has contributions from up-and-coming names such as Jasmine Sealy, Zilla Jones and of course, Téa Mutonji. You have two stories in the collection, Téa. What inspired you to write these types of stories?
Téa Mutonji: My own life, to be honest, I've always been interested in how social interactions have changed with the rise of social media. A lot of the time, after I've had any kind of experience that made me curious — small or big — I investigate it through my writing and start to unravel it with characters .I did that with both these stories. I also wrote them about five years apart.
I just hope that this collection opens up people's expectations and gives us the space to keep exploring ourselves as writers however we see fit.- Téa Mutonji
When I wrote Photographer's Wife, I forgot about Property of Neil completely. It was a story I wrote years ago based on something that I experienced. It wasn't until I was going through the editing process and saw them together in the anthology that I was like, "oh, wow. I have a bit of a signature that I didn't necessarily consider when I wrote [my debut collection] Shut up, You're Pretty, because it was one collection, whereas I wrote these two stories as two different writers.
What strikes me about this anthology — outside of the craft — is the range of Black lived experiences. Do you think Canada is in a place where we can wholly accept authentic Black stories that aren't necessarily coming-of-age or slave narrative stories? Obviously, there isn't anything wrong with those stories, but there's so much more.
Téa Mutonji: I think the industry might be arriving at a place where they're ready, but I actually think that it's up to us writers to break free from the obligation to represent a certain kind of literature when it comes to Black writing.
I've met a lot of writers in university when I do talks, and they [say to me], "Wow, you write about dating; you write about friends." And I'm like, "Well, yeah, I write about things that I'm actually living through intimately, directly, constantly."
Of course, I could write about being an immigrant, but that's actually a part of my childhood. It's not happening to me right now. Personally, I've made this decision to be more topical and present with my craft. Whenever I tell that to other students and writers, I do see the light bulb. I do see, "Okay maybe I can diverge from the stories that are expected of me."
It is to witness new forms of what I would call bravery in writing. Bravery stylistically and bravery thematically.- David Chariandy
I think the onus is actually on Black writers to be free, to just write whatever they want and not feel obligated. I just hope that this collection opens up people's expectations and gives us the space to keep exploring ourselves as writers however we see fit.
David, how did looking at all these submissions and making the selections for the anthology inspire your own writing?
David Chariandy: It is inspiring, very, very sincerely so. Even though I don't want to admit it, I'm now an older writer. It is something to be reading closely the work of younger writers who are in the heat of the now in a way that we all are but maybe older folk aren't as directly connected to these things. It is to witness new forms of what I would call bravery in writing. Bravery stylistically and bravery thematically.
Comments have been edited for length and clarity.
