As a sharp observer and as a chronicler of wartime and revolutionary foment, there are a lot of good and serious reasons to read Mavis Gallant: she is also wickedly funny. The humour in this story’s title is only accessible to readers after we have finished reading. But nevermind,
As this collection nears its end (the next story is its last), I find myself thinking more about the concept of being “in transit”. About how we often meet the characters in this story when they are at their most rooted. But how the title of the collection allows
Every morning for more than a week, I had breakfast with Anishinaabe-Métis poet, David Groulx; with cups of cinnamon tea and fruitbread, I read his poems to begin my days. I read his Under God’s Pale Bones in 2012, after having seen him read at an International Festival
In the previous story, we have Harold’s mother reminiscing about her earlier trips to the mountains, when it was just her and her husband, Harold’s father. She observes that it was one thing to think of skiing down the slopes into town when she was a young woman; now
It seems to me that Mavis Gallant must have spent an inordinate amount of time on terraces. As places that seem associated with a view, this seems appropriate for a writer with a penchant for observation and acuity. But even while terraces seem related to looking outward – especially
