So many of Mavis Gallant’s characters inhabit between spaces. Netta, too. Which is strange, because so many of Mavis Gallant’s other itinerant women are staying in hotels, but Netta is running one. And she is just as between as the rest of them. Once she said yes and, then,
Event hosted by Kaggsy's Ramblings Stuck in a Book #1977Club So much good women's fiction from 1977, from Margaret Atwood's Dancing Girls to Marilyn French's The Women's Room. But I reread Carol Shields' Unless last year and I wanted to reread another of hers. Enter, The
They are no longer only thieves and rascals: “All men are filth.” Bea is perhaps no more unhappy than Marian Kimber, but she is more outwardly disgruntled. And even though she says this with a laugh, there’s an undeniable edge to it. “My mother was a saint and my
In which there is talk of the slim stories which have travelled with me within the city, while bulkier volumes stayed home. Charles Dickens' Bleak House and John Ajvide Lindqvist's Harbor (Translated by Marlaine Delargy) are awkward travelling companions. As are some of the skinnies in my current stack,
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
