his Aboriginal origins. He consulted various works on the ethics of archaeology, but there was no mention anywhere of such conflicts of interest. He would have to deal with his scruples on his own.
He was toying with the possibility of dropping out of university when a friend advised him to register for Thomas Saint-Laurent’s course, which, he said, was “the one course you would have to take if there was only one course to take before the end of the world.”
Naturally, Noah had heard of Thomas Saint-Laurent, an enigmatic character who specialized in the archaeology of trash. His résumé was impressive: full professor of archaeology, head of one of the most prestigious research centres in the country, in charge of digs on a number of major prehistoric sites in Nunavik, and author of a dozen books. As well, his work on garbage dumps had been the subject of numerous articles, three documentaries and several television reports.
Among Canadian archaeologists, Thomas Saint-Laurent was the one with the highest media profile, thanks to trash.
Saint-Laurent’s colleagues were far from unanimous in approving of this bizarre specialization. Some of them accused him of fomenting rebellion in an already divided faculty, of upstaging his colleagues with his sensational press releases, and of instilling in his students a distorted image of archaeology.
Saint-Laurent himself could not care less. He continued to frequent the dumps and alleyways, to write articles on post-industrial archaeology and to train the next generation of researchers.
The course that Noah signed up for (Order and Disorder: A New Reading of Sedentarism) began with two key principles:
Everything is garbage.
The study of archaeology began last night at the supper table.
In the months that followed, Noah discovered the stratigraphy of waste-disposal sites, the history of garbage collecting, the expansion of North American suburbs and the petroleum polymer industry. He studied the influence of the Hudson’s Bay Company on the lifestyle of the Inuit. He dissected the contents of garbage bags. He compared the fluctuations of the TSE300 with the increased volume of domestic trash in the suburbs of Toronto.
His view of the world was turned upside down.
Which explains why he has mustered all his courage and, like an unworthy son nervously preparing to ask for his father’s blessing, has come to Thomas Saint-Laurent’s office to make known his intention of pursuing an M.A. in archaeology under his direction.
“That’s great!” Thomas Saint-Laurent exclaims gleefully. “And which subject are you planning on working on?”
“I was thinking of comparing the development of the road network and the expansion of refuse dumps in the 1970s.”
A brief pause. Thomas Saint-Laurent nods his head thoughtfully.
“A very exciting project, but a very bad idea. Even if your approach is brilliant and your methods are irreproachably logical, it wouldn’t get past the evaluation committee. They reject all projects concerning garbage dumps. It’s a prohibited area.”
“But your courses?”
“I’m tolerated because they can’t get rid of me. Look, I have a proposal for you. Are you interested in the prehistory of the indigenous peoples?”
“I beg your pardon?” Noah stammers.
“This university is a conservative institution. To survive you need a respectable specialization. You wantto work on garbage dumps? Well, first you have to make the grade in a less contentious area. Indigenous prehistory is an excellent training ground. Besides, I happen to be in need of an assistant!”
Noah can feel his head start to spin. The irony seems to be just too much.
“I adore indigenous prehistory,” he hears himself answering.
The Sea Serpents’ Floor
NOAH IS ROOTED IN FRONT OF A MAILBOX . He is closely examining the strata of graffiti and stickers covering the sides of it.
Punk’s Not Dead
¡Viva Zapata!
Lose Thirty Pounds in Thirty Days
—messages that go to
He was toying with the possibility of dropping out of university when a friend advised him to register for Thomas Saint-Laurent’s course, which, he said, was “the one course you would have to take if there was only one course to take before the end of the world.”
Naturally, Noah had heard of Thomas Saint-Laurent, an enigmatic character who specialized in the archaeology of trash. His résumé was impressive: full professor of archaeology, head of one of the most prestigious research centres in the country, in charge of digs on a number of major prehistoric sites in Nunavik, and author of a dozen books. As well, his work on garbage dumps had been the subject of numerous articles, three documentaries and several television reports.
Among Canadian archaeologists, Thomas Saint-Laurent was the one with the highest media profile, thanks to trash.
Saint-Laurent’s colleagues were far from unanimous in approving of this bizarre specialization. Some of them accused him of fomenting rebellion in an already divided faculty, of upstaging his colleagues with his sensational press releases, and of instilling in his students a distorted image of archaeology.
Saint-Laurent himself could not care less. He continued to frequent the dumps and alleyways, to write articles on post-industrial archaeology and to train the next generation of researchers.
The course that Noah signed up for (Order and Disorder: A New Reading of Sedentarism) began with two key principles:
Everything is garbage.
The study of archaeology began last night at the supper table.
In the months that followed, Noah discovered the stratigraphy of waste-disposal sites, the history of garbage collecting, the expansion of North American suburbs and the petroleum polymer industry. He studied the influence of the Hudson’s Bay Company on the lifestyle of the Inuit. He dissected the contents of garbage bags. He compared the fluctuations of the TSE300 with the increased volume of domestic trash in the suburbs of Toronto.
His view of the world was turned upside down.
Which explains why he has mustered all his courage and, like an unworthy son nervously preparing to ask for his father’s blessing, has come to Thomas Saint-Laurent’s office to make known his intention of pursuing an M.A. in archaeology under his direction.
“That’s great!” Thomas Saint-Laurent exclaims gleefully. “And which subject are you planning on working on?”
“I was thinking of comparing the development of the road network and the expansion of refuse dumps in the 1970s.”
A brief pause. Thomas Saint-Laurent nods his head thoughtfully.
“A very exciting project, but a very bad idea. Even if your approach is brilliant and your methods are irreproachably logical, it wouldn’t get past the evaluation committee. They reject all projects concerning garbage dumps. It’s a prohibited area.”
“But your courses?”
“I’m tolerated because they can’t get rid of me. Look, I have a proposal for you. Are you interested in the prehistory of the indigenous peoples?”
“I beg your pardon?” Noah stammers.
“This university is a conservative institution. To survive you need a respectable specialization. You wantto work on garbage dumps? Well, first you have to make the grade in a less contentious area. Indigenous prehistory is an excellent training ground. Besides, I happen to be in need of an assistant!”
Noah can feel his head start to spin. The irony seems to be just too much.
“I adore indigenous prehistory,” he hears himself answering.
The Sea Serpents’ Floor
NOAH IS ROOTED IN FRONT OF A MAILBOX . He is closely examining the strata of graffiti and stickers covering the sides of it.
Punk’s Not Dead
¡Viva Zapata!
Lose Thirty Pounds in Thirty Days
—messages that go to
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