Each of these books is penned by an indigenous writer, each considers a great loss, each is powerful on its own terms. Together their stories resonate and amplify readers' understanding of a vitally important issue. Virginia Pésémapéo Bordeleau's novel Winter Child appears to be the simpler tale. One woman's
A Chevy truck, a Thermos of coffee, date squares and bologna sandwiches: I Am a Truck begins with the basics. A fishing trip which, both Agathe and Réjean know, is not a fishing trip. Both are aware that he is lying, but it's a charade which Agathe is content
In which I discuss the skinny volumes which accompany me on my travels, while the heavier volumes (like Stephen King's It and an omnibus of Shirley Jackson's short works) remain at home. On a late August afternoon, I'm taking the Queen Street streetcar, in the stretch between Beach and Parliament,
Shirin Ebadi's Until We Are Free: My Fight for Human Rights in Iran landed on my stack thanks to Ali's description of hearing her speak and reading the book. Ebadi's tone is resolved and declarative. This, her third book, chronicles her experiences in the years surrounding Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's leadership
It is a privilege to confine one's experience of war to a particular season, to the printed page. That must be said. That is certainly a privilege in this world. Even if it should be a right. This summer I have plucked some of these nelgected stories from the
