As usual, Kaggsy and Simon have chosen a year rich with reading possibilities. As not-exactly-unusual, I have done better at gathering possibilities than of reading them. Initially I planned to expand my reading of James Baldwin, but the interlibrary-loan copy wasn’t speedy (sometimes it’s a week, sometimes weeks—depending how
Abdullah, Hage, Friedman, Ha, Orner and Atwood Short Stories in October, November, and December Whether in a dedicated collection or a magazine, these stories capture a variety of reading moods. This quarter, I returned to three favourite writers and also explored three new-to-me story writers.
This is the fifth year that I’ve been reading Margaret Atwood in November, in the month of her birthday (November 18) and in every other one of those years I’ve borrowed books from the library that I did not manage to read. This year, I selected only two books
The house across the street has a single row of clear white lights along the eaves and it’s built close to the ground, cabin-style, with trees on all sides. Behind it, the trees erupt out of Shield rock that is nearly as tall as the apartment building in the
Now there is snow covering everything, and the cold is bitter even when the sun is shining, so I read this week’s story and lecture inside, under an afghan, tucked into the corner of one of the warmer rooms (saving the warmest for later winter months—like being in training,
