(Clam Gardens, by Judith Williams.  New Star Books.  2006.)

More than 10,000 years ago, aliens landed in the Pacific Northwest among all those little islands between Vancouver Island and the mainland of British Columbia.  They created the Sasquatch, and they taught the natives how to build clam gardens so they could feed themselves as well as the Sasquatch.  These clam gardens were kept secret even though they were in plain sight.  When early white explorers noticed them, they didn’t know what they were.

A clam garden is like a fish trap.  You need high and low tides.  You mark the level of the lowest tide and build a little wall of rocks.  The clams settle in behind the wall when the water is high and dig into the sand.  After that, they grow in the sand flat behind the wall.  I called the Toronto Building Department just as a joke and said I wanted to build such a thing, and they said it would be illegal, and they never even heard of it.  That’s typical.

The B.C. government never took any reports of clam gardens seriously because archeologists were afraid to acknowledge their existence.  Nobody wanted to be the first, get it?  So there was just no literature on the subject.  Yes, everyone knew there were plenty of clams in B.C., but that’s all.  Also, the category of “Native mariculture” didn’t exist on any form, so there was no box to check.  That’s bureaucracy.  And the relations between the abos and the B.C. government were not the best ever since the government suppressed the weird dances and masks of the Kwakiutl people.

Then in 1995, Dr. John Harper, a marine geomorphologist, collected detailed proof of clam gardens, including pictographs showing alien contact with the natives.  His report exploded like a bomb on the desk of the Chief Clam Officer of the B.C. Ministry of Government Services, Patrick Moers, who is an evil Stalinist thug who deserves to be cleaning toilets in crack houses.  He knew that if the information got out, it would blow the lid off the government conspiracy to suppress UFO’s, aliens, and the Sasquatch.  So he buried the report.

The author documents a Sasquatch carrying away four bags of clams on page 10 and the existence of Martian barnacles on page 84, so she has clearly done a lot of research on this stuff.

The main kind of clam we are concerned with in this book is the butter clam.  You can eat all of it except the siphon and gills.  The natives would often smoke them and string them like necklaces.  Then when they were hungry, they would just eat some.  (Nobody in Canada sells Howard Johnson’s tendersweet fried claims, as far as I know.  Best clams I ever ate!  Retarded Canada.)

The natives naturally want to keep the existence of the clam gardens secret, because evil white people would rip them off — especially the Japs, who are always looking for seafood solutions to erectile dysfunction.  (Natives consider Japs white, and I won’t argue the point.  The Chinks, however, are definitely not white.)

This is a poignant and poetic book, although at the same time hard-hitting.  Best quote: “A hot cup of coffee in the wilderness, like a stranded flounder on the terraces, has a distinct value.”

This book was printed by Friesens Printing, which refused (!) to print my 1980 classic Lightning Struck My Dick, which has totally disappeared from the collector’s market.  You won’t find a copy for sale anywhere.  Anyway, I’m glad the author got this book published.

Copyright@ 2013 by Crad Kilodney.  E-mail: crad166@yahoo.com

Reminder: my French book, Villes Bigrement Exotiques, is still in print.  Published by Le Dilettante (Paris).