Last year, I was inspired by a local artist’s desk calendar to explore a series of cities in my reading. This year I’ve been exploring migration and lives in motion: often involuntary, frequently devastating, sometimes inspiring. This sense of between-ness reminds me of this passage in a 2021 debut
It’s easy to allow one’s world to get smaller, when one is overwhelmed by some of the sadness and struggle in this world; the opposite is also true, that it’s easy to expand your world under the same set of circumstances. A random spark, like this desk calendar by
Though set further north of the bluffs, David Chariandy's follow-up to his debut Soucouyant is every bit as family-soaked, its losses and sorrows cast against a remarkable and enduring landscape. In Brother, Michael introduces readers to the Rouge Valley, to his mother and to the memory of his brother
How much of your reading is non-fiction? Does it fluctuate, or are you committed to reading (or not reading) it? When others were participating in non-fiction November last year, and actually reading a lot of the books that I'd been kinda-half-sorta thinking about reading, I realised that tending towards fiction
The table of contents is simple but thrilling for me, the book's five chapters all themes and topics of great interest: Books and Islands, Islands, Rock Paintings, Books, and Home. If the other titles in the series (from National Geographic) are even half of what this volume appears to be,
