In which there is talk of the slim stories which have travelled with me within the city, while bulkier volumes stayed home. Amitav Ghosh's Flood of Fire and Paul Auster's 4 3 2 1are awkward travelling companions. As are some of the skinnies in my current stack, like Iris Murdoch's
Sometimes the body count in my reading is high. Of late, the un-body count has been rising. I noticed the presence in W. G. Sebald, when I began reading Austerlitz (2001; Translated from the German, 2011) earlier this year. In the photographs which accompany his narrative, there are no
Do you ever feel the weight of your stack? Many of the books I've been reading have been rigorous and demanding. Commodore Ajith Boyagoda's story of imprisonment in Sri Lanka, Marcelino Truong's memories of coming-of-age in Vietnam between 1961 and 1963, Shirin Ebadi's work for human rights in Iran, Solmaz
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
