by Dave Tough, in Arthur - 9 September 2008
The first sentence of Margaret Laurence’s The Diviners – “The river flowed both ways” – establishes a heavy handed metaphor that runs like a river through the book. This river, the river of history, doubles and folds back on itself in what she calls an “apparently impossible contradiction, made apparent and possible,” as an illusion, an imaginary effect caused by the wind brushing the surface of the water against the current.
This doubled, imaginary river is only one of many devices Laurence uses to set out her philosophy of haunted history: she also has Morag, the narrator, obsessively stare into old photographs, remember school songs, and talk to ghosts, one of whom happens to be Catherine Parr Traill.
