But now for a summer book that I actually read out-of-season: I was entranced by Mireille Gagné’s Horsefly (2024), translated by Pablo Strauss the following year. (Published by Coach House in Canada, New Cross Press in England, La livre de Poche in France). It’s turned a few heads, and
Originally I picked up a copy because of the cover, the slight embossing on that title and the antlers encircling it (not the cover pictured below). But I read it because I am curious about how the Sámi people live, in what’s called Scandinavia today. Traditionally they are reindeer
I grew up reading Enid Blyton, wondering what was ginger beer and desperately wanting some for my own “secret island” and other adventures. So it’s unsurprising that I understood the value Proust placed on the taste of a madeleine, decades before I tasted one myself, decades before I read
Seeing that some of my reading habits had shifted unexpectedly at the end of last year, I scribbled a note to peek mid-way this year, just to see how my ideas about my reading compared to my actual reading. The short version of my plans included reading from my
Well, mostly I’m not: as it is for many of you, it’s fiction that tugs hardest at my heart. But Bron’s personal reading project for 2026 is headquartered here, and I liked the idea of seeing how comfortably just two volumes of non-fiction could nestle into my stack each
