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Grace River is a smelter town in the interior of B.C. where most people who live there are born and bred, and everyone is either employed by AXIS or knows someone who is. Not much ever changes in Grace River. The days begin at Nick’s Diner and end at the Steelworkers bar. When a young environmentalist arrives in town to investigate toxin levels in the river, the locals are forced to start looking honestly at their lives, their pasts and their uncertain futures.
A powerful and courageous story told from the perspective of four friends, Grace River explores the reasons why people continue to stay in harmful situations and asks us to think about the damage we all do, not only to the environment, but also to the ones we love the most.
Grace Shiver is a multivocal meditation on violence, trauma, loss and renewal which wrestles with the seeming incommunicability of extreme experiences and the possibility that, as Heidegger suggests, What is spoken is never, and in no language, what is said. The manuscript is divided into six sections, each of which employs different poetic strategies to engage with a wide range of personal and historical issues and the silences that surround them. Grace Shiver explores, through many stances, the place of the mother. This can be in terms of many elements: absence, inadequacy, frustration and a sense of being overwhelmed–as well as in terms of what Stonehouse calls “mother-like capacity” and “milk work”–in other words, as a compassionate witness. She uses the vantage point of motherhood in a variety of forms to examine a series of themes: loss, violence and renewal.
In metaphor there is an implicit comparison, a higher form by which presence in this world is made manifest through language. Pierre DesRuisseaux . practises that ellipse of metaphor in which I like to see the primal symbol, polished by the poet to a glittering point of excellence…. Pierre DesRuisseaux’s work abounds in such triumphs. No one now dares to talk seriously of the universe…. It is by trusting to language – not childish language, but the language of childhood – and to the original state of the word that the poet intends to lay the foundation of his peaceable kingdom and restore the universe, giving it the appropriate form and rhythm for the truths he has to say, and, with convincing discipline, first capturing the reader’s attention, then inspiring fervour.
Bryan Sentes writes with a rare breadth of sensibility and style: bardic declamation and intimate lyric, ironic oracle and tart satire, incantatory deconstructions and romantic nature hymns. In this, his first full-length collection of poetry, subjects ranging from the chopping block of History to childhood memories, from Meister Eckhart to flying saucers, are rendered in a manner no less unsettling and exhilarating than the world around us. Grand Gnostic Central is a poetic and philosophical work resolutely bent on wringing a delirious lucidity from the white noise at Millennium’s end… “where/The stars are all arranged in such a way/As to suggest an endless emptiness/Or heavens full of foreign deities…”
Globe and Mail Best 100 Book of 2015
The secret world of Mauritian street-gangs is not for the faint of heart. Fraught with peril and mischief, its inner workings are a mystery to the daughter of one of its most valued members: Serge, the Grand Menteur. A liar of exceptional caliber whose sole responsibility is to purposefully confuse police with alibis, the Menteur fears for the criminal future he has unwittingly introduced into his daughter’s life, when her clear knack for violence attracts the notice of senior gang members.
Mauritian Kreol, English, and French blend together into a heady brew of language in Grand Menteur. Written in a nuanced style reflecting the island-nation’s convoluted history of colonialism, this debut novel by Jean Marc Ah-Sen sheds an unflinching light on the poverty and down-and-out hardship of a shadow class of immigrants from the 1940s to the ’80s.
Their story, with elements of child/parent relations and the tumultuous emotions tied to leaving home for greener pastures, will resonate with readers familiar with diasporic fiction, adventure and travelogue writing, and ‘lock, stock and barrel’ British crime fiction.
Following the success of Straight Outta Busan, Stefano returns with more cartoons from his hit web comic series Modern Asian Family. This second collection of short cartoons from Stefano Jun chronicles his experiences as a Korean immigrant in Western Canada. Having moved to Canada as an 8 year old with no knowledge of English, Stefano encounters culture shock, family love, friendship, and ultimately finding a place for himself in the vast country he has called home for 20 years now.
These slice of life stories are a keenly observed insight into the experience of growing up in an unfamiliar place. Full of emotion, humour and surprise, Modern Asian Family: Grande Prairie with an E is a delight to read.
When Daniel Coleman went into his office in McMaster University on a beautiful April morning in 2006 he was startled to see over thirty police vehicles parked on campus, and soon discovered that the campus was providing lodging for the officers who had raided the site of an Indigenous land dispute near the town of Caledonia. This discovery changed how Coleman thought about Indigenous issues, which he’d long supported, bringing home that there is no part of life in Canada where you are outside of the broken relationship between the nation of Canada and the Indigenous nations who have lived here since time immemorial. This began Coleman’s journey, working closely with Indigenous scholars, to understand more fully that relationship and to find a way to repair not only it, but our relationship with the land we call home. In Grandfather of the Treaties Coleman introduces the founding wampum covenants that the earliest European settlers made with the Haudenosaunee nation and shows how returning to these covenants, and the ways they were made, could heal our society.
Until she met Obrum Kehler, serious Sarah Sudermann had never laughed. Her mother said she always reached for the black things first. As a young girl, she was haunted by a vision of her grandmother bolt upright in her black trough coffin, laughing so hard her bonnet slipped off to the side and hung from one ear. But then Obrum looked at her with his Robin’s egg eyes and red paint on his nose.
And then there was the lawnswing . . . and the piano. Not practical. Not necessary. Especially for a young couple struggling through the Great Depression. When Beethoven Blatz enters to tune their piano everything is in place for the Kehler family to make great music together.
Full of love, longing, and tenderness, Grandmother Laughing is a story about unconventional families and the lengths we will go to find fulfillment for ourselves and the ones we cherish.
Granma Nineteen and the Soviet’s Secret
Metaphor is the substance of things hoped for and the proof of things not seen. It is a building block, not a tower or its view. It is a gift impossible to guess, and not to be opened until you do. Metaphor is coinage dropped so that others might decipher us.
The poems in Jeffery Donaldson’s Granted serve as a sort of Metaphor 101, an education in the making of metaphor, its motives and its meaning. But more than that, these poems represent a study of beingâand of becoming. They make relations, correspondences, attachments, and in so doing, they investigate the gaps between identity and imagination, truth and perception, love and faith. As Donaldson reminds us, when it comes to metaphor, distance makes no difference: it `breathes / in impossible spots, pairs that can’t be, / and finds in them untold possibilities.’
Grasshopper is a haunting reflection of the distance we have travelled from our initial visions of connection and unity in the West. Woven with lyrical images of the prairie landscape this long poem laments a dislocated and alienated society.
One of hockey’s most colourful characters, from hockey’s most colourful era, tells all
Gilles Gratton was not a typical pro hockey player. He refused to don his equipment and man his net if the planets were not properly aligned. He skated naked at practice. He created one of hockey’s most famous goalie masks based on his astrological sign. He fought with coaches and management, speaking his mind to his detriment. Sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll ruled his life, not stopping pucks. Truthfully? He never really wanted to be an NHL goaltender; he wanted to be Tibetan monk. And so, he quit hockey to seek enlightenment.
Now, in his autobiography, Gratton teams up with author Greg Oliver to tell his wild and at times, yes, loony story: from his early days in Montreal, where his brother Norm Gratton became an NHL player, too; through his stints with the OHA’s Oshawa Generals, the Ottawa Nationals and Toronto Toros of the rogue WHA, and the St. Louis Blues and New York Rangers in the NHL.
At times a comedy of terrors, pitting the severe pogrom pain of one side of our narrator’s family against the other’s imagined holocaust horrors in a contest of who suffered more, the consequences are deadly serious: when long-ago traumas trigger ones even more devastating for our protagonist, his fantastic schemes of vengeance and gallows humor can barely conceal his mad despair. Weaving tales of comic misfortune and heartbreaking tragedy, this is part detective story, part probe into one family’s edifice of unhappiness. From past to present, Odessa to Sarajevo to Montreal, New York, Hollywood and Gaza, our storyteller straddles the tightrope between laughter and tears, between succumbing to tragedy and finding ways to transcend it.