Twenty-two years ago, I clipped an article from a Toronto newspaper about the restoration of Sainte-Marie among the Hurons near Midland, Ontario. I had studied the history of the mission and the slaughter of the Jesuit priests when I was in elementary school, culminating in a vague understanding of it
In bookish synchronicity, when a friend and I met one summer morning to go book-shopping, each of us had begun reading A Beautiful Truth the previous evening. We had both read only about 50 pages, so were hesitant to commit to loving it too soon, but we shared that excitement
Some readers will be unsettled by the title alone. (I had early exposure as a young reader to Don Marquis' archy and mehitabel, so it didn't work that way for me.) Most readers will be unsettled by the story. (As activist and artist Banksy has said: “Art should comfort
"If we’re lucky, art can help us through our wolfishness."* And it does, indeed, help Virginia get through her wolfishness. As does her sister, Vanessa. And the painting of Bloomsberry. What's this? A children's book about Virginia Woolf? But we all know how THAT story ends. And, yet,
It's a busy reading season, and being smitten with prizelists adds to its intensity. As does the amazing schedule of events at the International Festival of Authors. Which included a reading, on Monday night, of the Governor General's English Fiction shortlist, which includes Tamas Dobozy's Siege 13, Robert Hough's Dr Brinkley's Tower, Vincent
