pickA Toronto-based story centered on four Anishnaabe characters (a professor, a grad student, a visiting hockey player, and a bush pilot), a Caribbean writer, and a white detective: all brought unexpectedly together by a series of abrupt and incredibly brutal murders. This is far more than a murder mystery, going into Indigenous culture, history and human rights; sports culture; and a bit of romance. Very well developed, but the ending is a bit neat.
pickLeanne Betasamosake Simpson is an author from Canada.In this book of prose fragments&poetry she explores decolonisation,resistance&healing.”You see, tragedy happened again. The details don‘t matter because details are hopeless, overwhelmed, shut down.”
The painting is by Clemence Wescoupe(Anishnaabe/Ojibwe),1975.I saw the exhibition on the Woodland Artists today.After two tough weeks&no end in sight this book&the paintings brought some solace.
Here I am, biding time with a cute dog and my daily short story while I wait for the snow (UGH) to stop. I keep reminding myself that next week I‘ll be in France, where it‘s supposed to be 20° and I won‘t even need my new tweed jacket.
In the meantime, I‘ll continue to be impressed with Drew Hayden Taylor‘s range. This guy excels at every genre he turns his hand to. His SF is as great as his nonfiction, his theatre, his YA, etc. etc. #MFMarch
“I was trying to suggest a reconciliation, but…”
“What was the reason for the separation?”
A third coffee. He definitely needed a third coffee. Normally Trent would be drowning his sorrows with tea, but there were some things in this world that tea could not fix. It was definitely a coffee morning.
“We were having some personal problems.”
“Who had the affair, you or her?”
The way Birch asked disturbed Trent more than the question itself.
pickWhat a beautiful and immersive follow-up this novel is. I love the portrayal of the landscape and that Rice leaves dialogue in Anishinaabemowin untranslated, with context clues to meaning. While reading this novel, I have found myself observing the world around me differently and requesting from myself more attention in the moment. I find myself contemplating what's most important and how to center those elements in my life. It's a gift of a book.
When he laced up and adjusted his gear, Paul sometimes felt like a gladiator going into battle, complete with his hockey stick of death. Other times he felt more like an overdressed clown, being paid to chase a piece of rubber across an artificial frozen surface in a bizarre outfit to amuse the masses. Still, it wasn‘t as bad as football. At least hockey had some connection to reality, evolving from the need to move on the frozen lakes of Canada.
pickSo proud of my eldest son who is working on the Little Fella Yarns project with the Western Australian State Library. A part of the Better Beginnings early literacy program, these book packs are give out to parents of Aboriginal babies in regional WA. The packs are being rejuvenated & my son is the project officer. I‘ve been asking him to bring me home a pack, and today he finally did! This is one of the awesome books in it ❤️🖤💛👶🏽📚👏.
After the 6th graders put me through my paces in class tonight, I feel like having something stronger, but I'm trying to convince myself that salad, nonalcoholic kombucha, and post-apocalyptic fiction will nourish me better in the long run---and disturb my sleep less---than a martini.
