When I was a girl, I walked the streets of New York City with Harriet the Spy. And I revisited it regularly via Betty Smith’s A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. From a young age, this was a city I recognized on the page, a place that felt real, a
Even though I did have to plan ahead when it came to books that I didn’t own, I’m enjoying a more whimsical approach to the online interviews and what content’s available in podcast or streamed. No updates to the first line (still reading Cat’s Eye) and on the next
A few summers ago, I got hooked on playing dominoes. I’d had a set since I was a girl but I’d never learned how to play. Back then, I thought dominoes were things you lined up in a pattern on the floor, flicking the first one so that each one
Annie Proulx’s Bird Cloud (2011) immediately invites readers into Wyoming: “The blue-white road twists like an overturned snake showing its belly.” She describes the dust and the sage-brush and how it’s impossible not to think of “old ash-spewing volcanoes” as you move through Wyoming with its powdery soil. “The
Gallant, Gould, Jolley, Kenan, Proulx, and Walker Short Stories in July, August, and September Whether in a dedicated collection or a magazine, these stories capture a variety of reading moods. This quarter, I returned to four favourite writers and also explored two new-to-me story writers.
