Alden Nowlan was born into rural poverty in Stanley, Nova Scotia, adjacent to Mosherville, and close to the small town of Windsor, Nova Scotia, along a stretch of dirt road that he would later refer to as Desolation Creek. His father, Gordon Freeman Nowlan, worked sporadically as a manual labourer.
His mother, Grace Reese, was only 15 years of age when Nowlan was born, and she soon left the family, leaving Alden and her younger daughter Harriet, to the care of their paternal grandmother. The family discouraged education as a waste of time, and Nowlan left school after only four grades. At the age of 14, he went to work in the village sawmill. At the age of 16, Nowlan discovered the regional library. Each weekend he would walk or hitchhike eighteen miles to the library to get books, and ...
An absolutely wonderful and talented poet. I'm so sad that 55 years of my life have passed before I took notice of him. Sometimes we don't know what we don't know. Alden is certainly the poster child of that.
Alden Nowlan is one of those rare poets one finds only if searching for the unusual, the stark, the capital T Truth. His gift of poetic breadth moves from journalistic to surreal and whatever he aims at, he hits his mark.
Alden Nowlan was not only one of the greatest Canadian poets but one of the greatest poets of modern time. He thoughtfully inferred so many flaws of 'modern' man through his poetry. I am proud that he was a Canadian and sad that he is dead. He was like a 'poet priest' guiding us to see how we undermine the beauty of being in this world.
One of the finest poets! Read him slowly. Languish in the words. Be struck by them.
The Masks Of Love
I come in from a walk
With you
And they ask me
If it is raining.
I didn’t notice
But I’ll have to give them
The right answer
Or they’ll think I’m crazy.
hello Alden, what does this poem mean. I am a Chinese, difficult for me to understand