Karen Solie reacts as she learns that she has received the 2010 Griffin Poetry Prize for a collection by a Canadian poet.Fernando Morales/The Globe and Mail
Difficult questions abound at a social event as unusual as the banquet where the Griffin Poetry Prizes are awarded every year, especially once the plates are cleared and speakers begin to rise. Does one clap at the end of each poem? If so, how does one know when it's over, rather than merely pausing dramatically to let what one doesn't quite get sink in?
On Thursday night, polite Canadianism prevailed at the announcement of Irish poet Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin as this year's winner of the $75,000 international Griffin. Almost relief: At least it wasn't a spelling contest.
But all that changed the moment distinguished Canadian poet Anne Carson - after a long, winding and quizzical preamble sprinkled with non-sequiturs borrowed from composer John Cage - announced Karen Solie as the winner of the 2010 Griffin for Canadian poetry.
Suddenly it was prom night in Toronto, and the decorated warehouse where the event was held rocked with cheers. The stately muse hailed as the new queen - tall, blond and striking in a blue, one-strap gown - took her crown.
And she responded in kind, her voice choking and thoughts rushing as she struggled to form a response, the leftover articulateness of previous speakers dissolving in a bath of pure emotion. The farm girl from Moose Jaw had travelled a long way to become a hometown hero in Toronto.
"You rule, Karen!" a voice burst out, prompting renewed applause.
The poet stuttered in response. "I'm overwhelmed," she said, after forcing out her thank-yous in between deep breaths, "and I'd like to express my gratitude. And, umm, thanks very much."
First nominated for a Griffin in 2002 for Short Haul Engine, her debut collection of poetry, Solie, 43, has long been a favourite of the enthusiastic elite that sustains Canadian poetry. "Her voice is wild and loving all at once," Newfoundland writer Michael Redhill said of Modern and Normal, her second collection, "her poems managing to mix a loose-jointed, kind of jaundiced view of things (as if she's pretending to know it all), but at the same time, they are lit by a language so fresh that you long to hear it in private."
The collection that won this year's Griffin, called Pigeon, is a cornucopia of Canadiana, its settings ranging from Solie's native flatlands to the banks of the St. John River - minutely observed, as her publisher says, with an attitude of "existential bewilderment."
The poet was no less bewildered as the laurels descended on her Thursday. But the crowd at least was clear in its mind - and loud in its approval.