I discovered May Sarton (1912-1995) on the shelves of the local women’s bookstore. You know I covet “sets” and, even though her books were not properly so, there was consistency in their Norton editions: the tidy little pocketbook novels with a splash of colour in a design at the
Today, talk of six books by Indigenous writers, including a novel, an illustrated children’s book, two books of poetry, and two books of non-fiction. These are works by Binnizá & Maya Ch'orti', Cree-Métis, Kanien’kehá:ka Ahkwesáhsne /Mohawk St. Regis, Kanien’kehá:ka, Wakeniáhton (Turtle Clan), and Mandan, Hidatsa & Arikara/Tsimshian writers.
Earlier this month—with Indigenous History Month in mind—I wrote about Thomas King’s latest Thumps Dreadfulwater mysteries, and my theme of Indigenous reading for this year’s Toronto Public Library Reading Challenge, including seven books by Indigenous writers that align with challenge themes. Now, on the other side of Indigenous Peoples’
“Like any self-respecting Russian artisan, Ivan Yakovlevich was a terrible drunkard,” Gogol tells us. But he waits to share this—until after we have seen the nose that Ivan discovers inside a freshly baked loaf of bread—so that we don’t mistake the nose for a drunken hallunication. Whenever Ivan barbers
Over the weekend, I started to pull Summer Reading options from various bookcases. I’d been wondering aloud, last week, about how to mark the distinction between spring and summer. The fledgling stack is an excellent reminder that I should write about my spring reading now, while the scent of
