First Nation Encounters
Beneath the Water Jessie Hiscox
Megan Cope’s Bated Breath made me hold my own. Not because I was struck by any deeper meaning, but because it was beautiful. Silver, sparkling, curved shadows on the wall, a school of elegant creatures caught in the air like crystallised raindrops, all reflected on the clear, delicate mirror below. The school of fish, some swaying slightly on their wire nooses, are prisoners of sorts, but I cannot feel sorry for them. Their lovely bright silver scales and smooth tails hold every eye, beautiful and lovely from all angles. The term ‘bated breath’ was first used in Shakespeare’s play The Merchant of Venice, one of the many terms he wrote into existence. To have bated breath is to hold one’s breath in anticipation, awaiting with eager expectation (Vocabulary.com, 2021). It makes me think of the makeover scenes in the movies I grew up on, a staple in every coming-ofage 2000s rom-com. When Samantha in A Cinderella Story descended the stairs in a sparkling white ballgown, my breath was hooked in my throat. The same thing happened when overall-wearing Laney Boggs stepped onto screen with a new haircut and a magenta-red dress in She’s all that. The formula to finding bated breath, it seems, is as follows: a pretty dress, a young girl, and a long set of stairs to descend. Shakespeare probably never had a makeover scene of his own, never walked down a stairwell in a long, princess ballgown. He did occasionally stand before an audience, starring in his own plays in the later years of his life, choosing a life beneath the spotlight as well as behind it (Shakespeare online, 2021). 27
