Partly because the humidity makes it hard to inhabit my own skin, this summer was a tough one for me. It felt like I started to read a dozen different collections of short stories—but never finished one. I’ve written about Carleigh Baker’s Last Woman (2024) and the Russian stories
Douglas Bruton’s Blue Postcards (2021) came to me via ILL (thanks to the Forest Hill branch of the Toronto Public Library) because Susan, Mme Bibi, Kaggsy and Simon all loved it; so I was expecting to enjoy it, but I was not expecting to find summer in it.
On the evening I read this short story, I was also reading May Sarton’s 1938 novel Single Hound (more about that tomorrow), in which one character affectionately calls another a “gooseberry”. Even though there’s no such moment in Chekov’s short story and, indeed, the gooseberries themselves are a disappointment—I
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’
Kincaid, Edwards, and Bazterrica --In which I return to two previously enjoyed writers' works, and "discover" one new-to-me writer. Although... since the Winter Quarterly, my short story reading has been all over the place. Usually I have a collection or two in my stacks, and I read
