There are days when it’s hard to find the wonder in this life–even when we remember to try and look for it.
Stress is everywhere. From unrelenting internal battles to worries about work, family, COVID, wildfires, floods, the rising price of food, the economy, politics, the climate emergency, the horrors of war, the fear of nuclear disaster…
So we doom-scroll through our social media feeds, waiting for the next adrenaline-cranking alert in an endless series of impending apocalypses.
This week on #TheBookshelf, I’d like to introduce you to a small-but-mighty book that packs a great deal of wonder–and calm–between its covers. It is a balm for the frazzled soul, like dipping your feet in a quiet stream on a warm summer’s afternoon.
Peace Is Every Step by Thich Nhat Hanh is remarkable for its simplicity and its power. It has been described by the Dalai Lama as a book that can “…change individual lives and the life of our society.” That is not an understatement.
This collection of stories, thoughts, and meditations, each only about 1-2 pages in length, is set out in three sections. The first addresses issues of the self, the second looks at external challenges, and the third explores the impact that one person’s peace can have on the world.
Thich Nhat Hanh was born on October 11, 1926, in the ancient imperial capital of Huế in central Vietnam. From early childhood, he knew that he wanted to be a Zen Buddhist monk. When he was sixteen, he set off on this path in earnest. He would go on to become a monk, a poet, an artist, a Nobel Peace Prize nominee (nominated by his friend Martin Luther King Jr., who called him “An Apostle of peace and nonviolence”), and a global spiritual leader.
From the first steps along his journey, Thich Nhat Hanh knew that he wanted to change Zen Buddhism–to pioneer a new, more mindful practice, rooted in the idea that we can practice mindfulness at any point in our everyday lives, even in the smallest, simple actions, like washing the dishes or observing a flower. He coined the term engaged Buddhism, to represent this more practical form of Buddhism. He would go on to become known as the Father of Mindfulness.
Thich Nhat Hanh was a noted calligrapher.
In the 1960s, as conflict rumbled through his homeland, he travelled to the US and Europe to call for an end to the hostilities in Vietnam. His actions resulted in both North and South Vietnam exiling from his home. He would go on to say that being unable to go home left him “like a bee without a beehive.”
He would remain in exile for 39 years.
Thich Nhat Hanh had created many monastic retreats in Vietnam. Shortly after his exile, he created the Plum Village spiritual centre in the south of France. Today, Plum Village is the largest Buddhist monastery in Europe and a place where people can go to learn to live in harmony with each other and with the earth.
Our own life has to be our message
Thich Nhat Hanh
For an enlightening peek into life at Plum Village, I highly recommend the 2017 documentary Walk with Me, written and directed by Marc J. Francis and Max Pugh, and narrated by Benedict Cumberbatch.
In 2005, the Vietnamese government invited Thich Nhat Hanh to return home, finally ending his decades-long exile.
Thich Nhat Hanh passed away in January 2022, at the age of 95. He died peacefully at his “root temple,” Từ Hiếu Temple in Huế, Vietnam, where he had been ordained as a young man.
“Stressed” image credit: mohamed_Hassan on Pixabay.
T. L. Huchu’s The Library of the Dead is a clever contemporary fantasy that has all of these things–and much more.
In a post-catastrophic Edinburgh, we meet fourteen-year-old Ropa Moya. Ropa is a ghost talker. For a fee, she uses Zimbabwean magic and a traditional musical instrument called a mbira (pronounced m-BEE-ra), to relay messages between the living and the dead–messages that usually run the mundane gamut between unrequited love, squabbles over wills, and family hauntings…Usually.
Until the ghost of a recently dead mother appears, pleading with Ropa to save her young son, Oliver.
Ropa, brimming with sharp intelligence and street smart attitude, would love to help, but the ghost can’t pay. And Ropa really needs paying gigs so that she can take care of her ailing grandmother and provide her little sister with the kinds of opportunities that she never had.
But she soon discovers that Ollie is not the only child who has gone missing. Others have disappeared, only to mysteriously return as zombie-like hollowed-out husks of their former selves (and let me tell you, the imagery of these children is chilling).
The National Monument, Edinburgh. Photo credit: shilmar on Pixabay
Determined to save Ollie before he meets the same fate as the returned children–or worse–Ropa enlists the help of her childhood friend Jomo, who just happens to have access to a mysterious library of magic located under Calton Hill between the tomb of David Hume in the Old Calton Burial Ground and the National Monument.
The world-building in The Library of the Dead is a terrific blend of Scottish and Zimbabwean culture and magic, and a setting that manages to combine past, present, and post-catastrophic future Edinburgh.
If you’ve ever been to Edinburgh, then you’ll know what I mean when I tell you that the image of Waverley Station, almost completely submerged by the “New Loch,” will stay with you long after you reach the last page.
All of the characters are interesting and well-developed, from Ropa’s wise and loving grandmother, to her wheelchair daredevil friend, Priya. But at the centre is Ropa–with her green dreadlocks and black lipstick–a survivor, facing desperate living conditions and a horrific enemy, with courage, grit, compassion, and grace.
In places, this book is atmospheric and intense in a way that felt rather reminscent of Clive Barker’s The Thief of Always.
The Library of the Dead is the first book in T. L. Huchu’s Edinburgh Nights series. It was published by Tor Books in 2021. If anyone can tell me who created the amazing cover art, please drop it in the comments!
The Mbira is one of a family of musical instruments traditional to the Shona people of Zimbabwe.
I spend a lot of time sitting at a desk. And I’m not alone.
According to recent numbers from Statistics Canada, 81.6 % of Canadians over the age of 15 who are employed in full-time work are sedentary for 68.9% of their day1.
In other words, we sit. A lot.
A daily walking habit is one of the easiest ways to enjoy the mental and physical health benefits of exercise and fresh air, but it can be hard to find the time–and the motivation–to get outside. Especially living in Toronto…in winter.
Find Tanya on Twitter @editortanya Photo credit: Twitter
In 2019, Massachusetts-based editor and translator Tanya Gold (@editortanya on Instagram and Twitter) took to social media to say that she had fallen out of her habit of taking a daily walk and to ask if anyone else was also struggling. She put out a call asking for ways that we could motivate each other to get outside for a walk–and hold each other accountable.
The answer? #StetWalk! The writing and editing community soon lit up with photos and hashtags, and it became very clear that Tanya was not the only one who wanted to get outside more!
Before long, the hashtag was popping up on social media feeds across North America–and around the world!
Fast forward to today and the #StetWalk hashtag has been used on Instagram more than 5,000 times!
But wait. Why #StetWalk? How did the #StetWalk hashtag come about?
In an interview with Grammar Girl Mignon Fogarty, Tanya’s friend and fellow editor Heather Saunders (@H_E_Saunders on Twitter) explains, “I brainstormed a tag with the goal that it’d be fun, memorable, and related to editing. But most of all, I wanted it to be cheerful so it would be fun to post. I liked the playfulness of #StetWalk because it combines a term that means ‘let it stand’ with doing anything but standing still—walking, running, even simply getting outside for a minute.”
So how do you go for a #StetWalk?
First, check out the #StetWalk hashtag on Instagram and Twitter and feel the inspiration take hold! Then, put on a pair of comfy shoes (or boots if you live in Toronto and it’s February) and get outside! On your walk, take a photo of something–anything–and post your photo to Instagram and/or Twitter with the hashtag #StetWalk.
Welcome to the #StetWalk community!
And here’s a hot tip for all you creatives out there. Stuck in a plothole? Struggling with a theme or looking for ideas? I have figured my way out of more creative problems while out on my daily #StetWalk than I ever have while sitting at my desk! (The notes app on my phone is proof!)
You can go on all kinds of #StetWalks!
Spring #StetWalks…
Summer #StetWalks:
Fall #StetWalks:
Winter #StetWalks:
City #StetWalks:
Summer night #StetWalks:
Or how about a mossy #StetWalk?!
So get outside and enjoy a #StetWalk today–and every day! Take a friend or enjoy some alone time. Bring along a device and enjoy music, or perhaps a podcast, an audiobook, or maybe even some walking meditation. Or, simply enjoy the sounds of the world around you.
Most of all, have fun with it! Go for a #StetRun, #StetHike, #StetSwim, take along a #StetPet…well, you get the idea!
“I’m afraid I don’t have magic.” “You do, Mr. Baker. Arthur told me that there can be magic in the ordinary.”
TJ Klune, The House in the Cerulean Sea
Buy your copy of The House in the Cerulean Sea from Indiebound
Ordinary magic is everywhere.
And nowhere more so than in TJ Klune’s heart-squeezing novel, The House in the Cerulean Sea.
This book is about many things. It’s about the persecution of those who are deemed “different”; it’s about finding your line in the sand and having the courage to not cross it. It’s about righting wrongs, fighting for love, and choosing your family.
Most of all, it is about kindness.
But let’s back up for a second and get a few story details from the publisher’s blurb.
A magical island. A dangerous task. A burning secret.
Linus Baker leads a quiet, solitary life. At forty, he lives in a tiny house with a devious cat and his old records. As a Case Worker at the Department in Charge Of Magical Youth, he spends his days overseeing the well-being of children in government-sanctioned orphanages.
When Linus is unexpectedly summoned by Extremely Upper Management he’s given a curious and highly classified assignment: travel to Marsyas Island Orphanage, where six dangerous children reside: a gnome, a sprite, a wyvern, an unidentifiable green blob, a were-Pomeranian, and the Antichrist. Linus must set aside his fears and determine whether or not they’re likely to bring about the end of days.
But the children aren’t the only secret the island keeps. Their caretaker is the charming and enigmatic Arthur Parnassus, who will do anything to keep his wards safe. As Arthur and Linus grow closer, long-held secrets are exposed, and Linus must make a choice: destroy a home or watch the world burn.
An enchanting story, masterfully told, The House in the Cerulean Sea is about the profound experience of discovering an unlikely family in an unexpected place—and realizing that family is yours.
Klune captures the indifferent horror of an Orwellian society with a weight that is as gloomy as the city’s perpetual rain–drops that you can almost feel, sliding down Linus’ collar. He shows us the grim impact of cruelty visited on children and families simply because they are different.
Remove the supernatural abilities and you have a world not that much different from our own, one where where families, societies, and entire cultures have been–and still are being–decimated by the fearful and ignorant.
But in The House in the Cerulean Sea, Klune also reminds us that there is a mighty hope in even the smallest acts of kindness–and that learning about each other and accepting each other for who we are is perhaps the greatest work we can do.
“We are better than what we currently seem to be. I know we are. And I don’t believe it’s too late for us to course correct. It’s going to take time, and a hell of a lot of hard work, but we’re capable of it. The House in the Cerulean Sea is my great wish into the universe, a fable about the goodness in us all, if only we can believe in it. Hope is a weapon, kindness our battle cry. As long as we stand together, I know we’ll shape this place we call home into something we can all be proud of.“*
Kindness. Hope. Love. These can free us all.
These are the gifts of The House in the Cerulean Sea.
For more by TJ Klune, visit your local library or bookstore and check out his full catalogue, including his latest, Under the Whispering Door. (Find it at Indiebound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781250217349)
Photo credits: Book and models, Chris Sickels-Red Nose Studio (https://www.rednosestudio.com/). Ocean stock image, Canva.
I think it’s probably fair to say that Mark Critch is a bit of a Canadian institution.
And, as Canadian institutions go, that means either socialized medicine or comedy. In this case, it’s the latter.
For 18 years, Mark’s hilariously irreverent turns as anchor and roving reporter for CBC’s satirical news send-up This Hour Has 22 Minutes have brought laughter to livingrooms all over the world. He’s been a part of Canada’s Just for Laughs comedy series and the host of Ha!ifax ComedyFest.
And if you’ve watched him in action, you’ll know it’s probably fair to assume that he likely had an interesting childhood.
Title:Son of a Critch: A Childish Newfoundland Memoir.
Author: Mark Critch
Published: 2018
Cover Designer: Leah Springate
Who is it for? Fans of Canadian comedy; anyone interested in a peek into a life spent growing up in 1980’s Newfoundland
And you’d be right.
Luckily for us, Mark decided to share his childhood stories in his 2018 memoir Son of a Critch: A Childish Newfoundland Memoir.
The book traces Mark’s childhood, from his pre-kindergarten years through to grade 9, and–with a skill that seems to define good comedians–finds the humour even in the most heartbreaking situations. If we humans are the sum of our stories, then it’s not hard to see how Mark became the comedian we know today.
And while some of these stories are funny–really funny–others include bullying, loss and grief, humiliation and trauma. It takes a certain sense of humour to be able to go on this journey with the young Critch and truly appreciate the wackiness of it all.
From a technical standpoint, there a few spots where he wanders off on a bit of a tangent and it takes you out of the story for a moment and occasionally, a funny riff goes just that little bit long and the humour in it fades a little. But neither of these things take away from a delightfully funny book.
My reader brain struggled with the voice–especially in the early parts of Mark’s childhood. When we look back on our childhoods, we tend to do so from an adult perspective, and that perspective is altered by a life’s worth of experiences. So maybe it’s impossible to reflect on the thoughts and feelings you had when you were four or five years old from the same viewpoint of that four- or five-year-old. As I was reading, there were a few places where young Mark’s thoughts and experiences were being filtered and embellished so much by adult Mark that it felt oddly out of sync. But that being said, maybe that’s what makes the comedy work.
And it does work.
This is a good read. It’s funny and tremendously heartfelt. I laughed out loud in places, and was teary in others.
If you’re keen to experience an ’80s Newfoundland childhood through the eyes (and heart) of one of Canada’s great comedians, give this memoir a go.
For more, check out the TV adaptation of Son of a Critch, created by Mark Critch and Tim McAuliffe. Season one landed on January 4, 2022, and new episodes air on Tuesday nights on CBC. Check it out here!)
Mystery novel writers have always struck me as being rather like sleight-of-hand magicians. They keep your attention, with atmospheric settings and not-what-they-seem characters in one hand, while pulling off the magic trick–a twist you never saw coming–with the other.
This is particularly true of Stuart Turton’s debut novel, The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle, except–taking the analogy a little further–when this particular magician puts his top hat on the table, it’s not a rabbit that emerges, but a llama.
Photo credit: Pixabay
The Set-Up:
With a shout, a man finds himself standing in a forest, rain dripping down his face. He has no memory of who he is or how he got there. In fact, the only thing he remembers is the name still on his lips: Anna.
But who is Anna? And more to the point, who is he?
So begins our protagonist’s odyssey through Stuart Turton’s The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle.
It soon becomes clear that the man is one of several guests at a weekend gathering hosted by the Hardcastle family at their isolated, and somewhat faded, country estate.
That night, Miss Evelyn Hardcastle is murdered.
What feels like an Agatha Christie-esque locked-room whodunnit, soon reveals itself to be something far more elaborate as readers are treated to a magic show of a mystery.
You see, the man is not actually a guest. His name is Aiden Bishop, and he is trapped in a Groundhog Day-esque loop, each new dawn bringing him back to relive the same day–in a different guest’s body.
To escape, he must solve Evelyn’s murder.
But the more he uncovers about his fellow guests and the murder itself, the more questions Bishop has. Who is Anna? Who is the mysterious figure lurking around the edges of the story? And ultimately, who is Aiden Bishop?
Who is it for? Described as Agatha Christie meets Groundhog Day, this book and it’s brilliant twists and turns is for locked-room mystery lovers who enjoy genre-defying subplots.
As the reader becomes increasingly drawn into the mystery of who killed Evelyn Hardcastle, and why, it’s easy to lose sight of the bigger picture: what is our protagonist’s connection to the events unfolding at the manor?
Herein lies the magic of Turton’s storytelling. You’re so busy looking at the mystery itself, that you don’t give much thought to the question that’s been niggling at the back of your mind as you’ve watched the story unfold.
Then, you reach the end, and–with a final flourish–all is revealed. The magician pulls the llama from the hat and you’re left marvelling at the trick.
Atmospheric, original, and masterfully plotted with a brilliant twisty ending, The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle is a magician’s slight-of-hand dream of a book.
Final thoughts.
It’s not often that a plotline surprises me as much as this one did. The story moves fast but the details never feel rushed. There are clever reveals scattered throughout the main story and a gloriously sinister subplot.
For even more magic, try the audiobook–read with just the perfect amount of gravitas–by James Cameron Stewart.
To learn more about the cover design, click here to read an interview with Bloomsbury Publishing Art Director, David Mann.
Featured image photo credit: Charl Durand from Pexels
It’s a new year. Maybe you’ve set up a new planner. Maybe you’ve been thinking about goals for your business. Maybe you’d like this to be the year that you finally finish that novel, find the time to go for more walks, meditate, read more books, or learn a new skill.
Or maybe you’re thinking that making plans is daft, because you struggle to stick to schedules and never met a goal you couldn’t miss, and—hey, doom scrolling much? Sure, why not. I mean, it’s been a year (or ten…).
3 ideas to start your year:
1) You don't rise to the level of your goals. You fall to the level of your systems.
2) Every action you take is a vote for the type of person you wish to become.
3) Decide the type of person you want to be. Prove it to yourself with small wins.
Go follow James Clear…go on…I’ll wait here for you.
Listen, I hear you. I know only too well about best-laid plans…you read the latest productivity hack, download a snappy new habit tracker, set up schedules, make lists of your goals…
But then nothing goes according to plan and you’re left feeling like a failure.
So, what to do?
After years of setting and failing to follow through on countless writing schedules, creating fancy new exercise plans, and generally setting unrealistic/unattainable goals, I realised that I was trying to fit my life into the plan when what I needed to do was fit the plan into my life.
So how do you turn things around? How do you make plans that you can stick to?
Before you try a new habit, take some time to get to know yourself. Are you more likely to exercise if you put your workout clothes out the night before?
Are you more likely to finish a project if you work on it first thing in the morning? In the afternoon? What about if you tied it to another activity that you like to do? Don’t be above bribing yourself! Nothing beats a little *reasonable* incentive to help get things done (but maybe don’t do the the one chocolate chip per math problem thing with your kids unless you want them pinging about like t-i-double-guh-urrs).
The Pinkcast is one of my favourite new things so far this year!
Ahem…where was I?…
Ah, yes…
Finally, if you’re setting goals or trying to build new habits, keep it simple! Take that first step and then decide what comes next. You don’t have to have all the answers now. Just have an idea of where you want to go and take a step that will point you in that direction.
Does it take effort, setting goals and building habits? Absolutely. Will things work the way you want them to every day? Not a chance. But life is not about perfection, it’s about being flexible, being kind to yourself, and ultimately, showing up for yourself every day.
Start with baby steps. One thing at a time. And don’t be afraid to abandon a plan that isn’t working. Think of it more like a dance than a march.
Case in point? This very blog. In 2021, I planned to blog every week. I had a beautiful schedule–colour-coded and everything. But the blogs I wrote were rambling and took far too long to write (not to mention the time to source photos, create hyperlinks, set up social media sharing).
So I sat down with a notepad and thought about what I wanted the blog to be. Which was more important: long posts or regular posts? The answer was regular posts. So I created a new format for my book reviews, which will hopefully keep them consistent and more straightforward, and set myself a shorter word-count. My goal for #TheBookshelf in 2022 is to share weekly snapshots of what I’ve been reading, tips for writers and editors, or new things I’ve learned.
So, here’s to 2022. It’s been a brutal two years, but we got this. In this new year, be kind to yourself and others, learn something new, and above all, never lose your wonder!
Say hi in the comments or visit me on Instagram @woodvinewritesewrites
This week on #TheBookshelf, I *had* planned to share my review of Stuart Turton’s The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle.
This is not that review.
(Next week, I promise. In the meantime, maybe pick up a copy of the book–or the most excellent audiobook. They’re both awesome, you won’t regret it.)
Instead, I wanted to share something else with you.
It’s been a week, hasn’t it? [Said everyone, every week, since March, 2020–or possibly before.] There’s a lot of hardship out there in the world. From the climate emergency to social injustice to the struggle to make ends meet, it’s a lot.
A LOT lot.
And I’ve got to say, humans, I’ve seen some not-so-nice behaviour from some of you.
There is a quote, often attributed to Robin Williams, that goes something like this: “Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be kind. Always.”
And that includes being kinder to yourself, my friend.
Sometimes, when you’re struggling–with your job, your spouse, your kids, your dreams, your life…even your own reflection–the tiniest scrap of light can make a huge difference. Sometimes that beam of light turns out to be the lighthouse that keeps you off the rocks. And sometimes, it takes someone who can say “I’ve been there, I am there, I see you,” to be that light.
This week, I’ve got two books to share with you whose authors know what it’s like to be on those reefs, and in these two small-but-mighty-volumes they share their thoughts on hope, life, and holding on to grace, even when you don’t feel like you can.
The back cover blurb for Matt Haig’s The Comfort Book
First up is Matt Haig’s brand new release, The Comfort Book.
This book lives up to its name. It is written as a brilliant collection of thoughts, quotes, and lists. Rather like a scrapbook of hope.
Matt Haig is the author of numerous books for adults and children including his memoir, Reasons to Stay Alive; A Boy Called Christmas, which is about to be made into a movie; and his recent bestseller, The Midnight Library.
The Comfort Book is a bit different. It’s like a commonplace book–bursting with little bits of all sorts of marvelous things. You could read it from cover to cover or pick an entry at random and go from there.
No matter how you decide to go about reading this delightfully bright, tidy little book, the light pouring out of it is still just as brilliant. Basically, it’s a book full of hugs…book-shaped hugs!
Nothing is stronger than a small hope that doesn’t give up.
Matt Haig, The Comfort Book.
“For You” The dedication page from Keep Moving by Maggie Smith.
The second of our two books this week, is Keep Moving, Notes on Loss, Creativity, and Change by the poet Maggie Smith.
What began on social media as a collection of daily affirmations, encouragements, and self-directives–each one ending with the two words Keep moving–became this powerful story of overcoming struggle. Combining those social media posts with short segments of memoir, Maggie Smith has created a book that feels a bit like sitting down with a friend who has seriously seen some s&*t and having them say to you, “Look, whatever you’re dealing with, you can get through it and I’m going to be there to help you get through it.” And then they put the kettle on.
(Because isn’t that what we Brits do when s&*t gets real.)
Keep Moving is structured into three sections: “Revision”, “Resilience,” and “Transformation” and while you could dive in anywhere, it is a journey and best read from beginning to end. And it is a journey well worth taking.
Thank you for joining me on #TheBookshelf this week. Until next time, when I promise we’ll explore the deliciously written, mind-bending mysteries of Stuart Turton, I wish you book-shaped hugs and light when you need it most. Be kind.
This week on #TheBookshelf, I’ve got some great reads for you by Indigenous poets and authors from all over Turtle Island.
There’s a lot I could say about the responsibilities of being part of a settler society, but if you’re here and reading this, then I’m guessing you already know much of what I might say, and you’ve already embarked on a learning journey of your own.
And if you haven’t, then maybe you can start your journey here.
We are never closer as people than when we walk a mile in another’s shoes. Reading fiction and non-fiction from cultures and experiences that are not our own allows us to do just that.
Stories have infinite power to connect us as human beings. Amplifying Indigenous voices–and promoting diversity in the arts as a whole–is important and necessary to us all.
Here are a few of the writers whose work–whose heart-breaking, heart-healing, exciting, hilarious, suspenseful poems and stories–I’ve either already read (and loved) or look forward to reading this summer!
Marilyn Dumont is an award winning poet and educator of Cree/Métis descent. One of my all-time favourite poems is her piece, “The Dimness of Mothers and Daughters” from her collection, Green Girl Dreams Mountains.
Excerpt from Marilyn Dumont’s “The Dimness of Mothers and Daughters” displayed at the Thunder Bay Marina. Photo credit: Michelle Woodvine
There is powerful magic in poetry and it always seems to find me just when I need it the most. I came across this piece shortly after my mother died, when her story–and mine–were all I could think about. These words wrote themselves into my bones. Here’s an excerpt of the poem, displayed at the revitalized Marina complex in Thunder Bay, Ontario.
You can read more about Ms. Dumont and her poetry collections here.
Joy Harjo is a poet of the Muscogee (Creek) Nation in the United States. She is currently serving her second term as the 23rd U.S. Poet Laureate. I love her collection, The Woman Who Fell From the Sky and in particular, her poem “Perhaps the World Ends Here.” For me and my family, the kitchen table has always been the most important place in our home, the place where we gather together at least once a day to share meals, to tackle homework, work on craft projects, to talk and share, to learn and celebrate and grieve. This poem captures the essence of family and of life itself–all in a single piece of furniture. Here’s an excerpt:
"The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live. The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the table. So it has been since creation, and it will go on. We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe at the corners. They scrape their knees under it. It is here that children are given instructions on what it means to be human. We make men at it, we make women." -Excerpt from "Perhaps the World Ends Here" by Joy Harjo
Visit the Poetry Foundation here for the full poem.
Pick up Strangers by David Robertson at Indiebound
David A. Robertson is a prolific writer of picture books, graphic novels, YA novels, memoir, and more. He is a member of Norway House Cree Nation and currently lives in Winnipeg.
Strangers, released in 2017, and the first book in his Reckoners YA series, is near the top of my TBR list and based on the blurbs, is packed with intrigue, humour, and magic–I can’t wait to dive in!
His latest work (released in September 2020) is the graphic novel The Barren Grounds (The Misewa Saga, Book One) and has been called “Narnia meets traditional Indigenous stories of the sky and constellations.”
Yes, that sound you hear is my TBR list growing again!
Learn more about Robertson, his writing and his other books in this excellent Quill & Quire interview–or at his website.
Drew Hayden Taylor, originally from Curve Lake First Nation, Ontario, is a jack-of-many creative trades–from playwright, to author of both fiction and non-fiction, to filmaker, and (not surprisingly) stand-up comedian. His book Motorcycles and Sweetgrass is one of my favourite reads, and is bursting with trickster magic, clever twists on Indigenous folklore, family drama, and loads of magic, charm, and love.
Come for the mystery, stay for the…raccoons. Yes, you heard me. As a Torontonian, I’ve long had my suspicions about those crafty critters…
Rebecca Roanhorse is a speculative fiction writer from the US, whose latest novel, Black Sun, has been nominated for the 2021 Hugo Award for best novel. (She has won the Hugo Award in the past, not to mention the Nebula, and the Locus, as well as the 2018 Astounding (Campbell) Award for Best New Writer.)
While Black Sun will be on my TBR list soon, it’s the author’s debut novel that I’m cueing up first.
Trail of Lightning came out in 2018. Here’s the publisher’s blurb:
“While most of the world has drowned beneath the sudden rising waters of a climate apocalypse, Dinétah (formerly the Navajo reservation) has been reborn. The gods and heroes of legend walk the land, but so do monsters—and it is up to one young woman to unravel the mysteries of the past before they destroy the future.”
I mean, really. How have I not read this book already?! Oh, right. I’ve yet to find a job that pays me to read whatever I want all day. Ahhh…someday <cough> Tor.com <cough>. #dream #IDigress
Learn more about Ms. Roanhorse (she’s also written a middle grade novel for the Rick Riordan Presents series and a StarWars novel. I mean how freaking cool is that?!) at her website.
Last, but certainly not least, if you don’t live in Canada, you might not be aware of the national “Battle of the Books”–the literary Survivor–known as Canada Reads.
The 2021 Canada Reads winner was none other than Jonny Appleseed, a novel by the poet, Joshua Whitehead, a two-Spirit, Oji-nêhiyaw member of Peguis First Nation (Treaty 1).
Jonny Appleseed has been nominated for–or won–numerous awards and is described as “A tour-de-force debut novel about a Two-Spirit Indigiqueer young man and proud NDN glitter princess who must reckon with his past when he returns home to his reserve.”
Then I read the publisher’s blurb and was immediately hooked:
“You’re gonna need a rock and a whole lotta medicine” is a mantra that Jonny Appleseed, a young Two-Spirit/Indigiqueer, repeats to himself in this vivid and utterly compelling debut novel by poet Joshua Whitehead. Off the reserve and trying to find ways to live and love in the big city, Jonny becomes a cybersex worker who fetishizes himself in order to make a living. Self-ordained as an NDN glitter princess, Jonny has one week before he must return to the “rez”–and his former life–to attend the funeral of his stepfather. The seven days that follow are like a fevered dream: stories of love, trauma, sex, kinship, ambition, and the heartbreaking recollection of his beloved kokum (grandmother). Jonny’s life is a series of breakages, appendages, and linkages–and as he goes through the motions of preparing to return home, he learns how to put together the pieces of his life.
Sounds amazing, right? Seriously, my TBR list rocks so hard.
Wait, what was that? You’re looking for more?
Awesomesauce! Check out this fantastic round-up from CBC Books: 35 books to read for National Indigenous History Month. Covering adult fiction, non-fiction, YA, graphic novels, and poetry, this article includes links to some great interviews and loads of resources for further reading.
Happy reading!
(And if you lovely folks at Tor.com are looking for a nerdy reader/writer/editor/gamer/knitter/plant girl…well, you know where to find me.)
Political slogan on a wall in the city of Pompeii. (Image credit: Mirko Tobias Schäfer / Flickr and this fantastic article from The Atlantic.)
Sometimes it feels like we’re drowning in information.
And that information–every text, Tweet, meme, slogan, or headline–takes the form of short writing.
It would be easy to assume that short writing is a product of the digital age, but in actual fact it has been used–often with significant impact–for far longer. From the graffiti-inscribed walls of Pompeii, to the final desperate telegrams dispatched from the Titanic, short writing has always played a vital role in human communication.
Today, in a world built on speed and information, it is more important than ever to be able to write short and do it well.
How to Write Short by Roy Peter Clark. (Published in 2013 by Little, Brown Spark.) Buy this book at Indiebound
This week on #TheBookshelf, we’re looking at How to Write Short by Roy Peter Clark.
Clark is an author and editor who has taught writing at the prestigious Poynter Institute for Media Studies for more than 30 years. He has authored or edited nineteen books about writing, including his excellent craft book, Writing Tools.
Put it this way, what Roy Peter Clark doesn’t know about journalism and writing probably isn’t worth knowing.
As a freelance writer and editor, I do a lot of short writing–social media posts, book blurbs, titles, bios, etc.–both for clients and to promote WoodvineWrites–and I love to play with short writing, especially the challenge of a haiku or a 280 character Tweet, so I was eager to dive in and see what this book has to offer!
How to Write Short is, in itself, an homage to the art of writing short. Comprised of 35 bite-sized chapters, the book is divided into two sections: how to write short, and why we write short–including the practical uses of short writing.
The chapters are well laid out–with the student in mind. Each one begins with an anecdote that puts the chapter’s topic into context. Then comes the lesson. Here, Clark expands on the themes from the chapter intro with clever and accessible examples ranging from the Bible to Buffy the Vampire Slayer. In between you’ll find well-chosen examples of short writing by Oscar Wilde, Tom Petty, Dorothy Parker, The Sopranos, Abe Lincoln…and many more. Each chapter wraps up with a section called “Grace Notes”–short exercises designed to reinforce the chapter’s lesson and ultimately build a better writer.
Clark covers a lot of ground, from the often hilarious worlds of texts and online dating apps, to tombstones, tattoos, idioms, sales pitches and just about every other kind of short writing you can think of. He gives practical guidance for trimming your writing, including the vital lesson that “brevity comes from selection and not compression.”
Brevity comes from selection and not compression.
Roy Peter Clark, How to Write Short
In much the same way that Clark encourages writers to find the rhythm–the music–in their work, many of the lessons in How to Write Short are summarized in rhythmic, easy-to-learn 3’s or 5’s, like “perfect, polish, revise”, “focus, wit, polish”, and Joseph M. Williams’ “Five Principles of Concision.”
Even the book’s typography and layout lend themselves to ease of learning through the judicious use of bullet points, bold type and/or italics for key ideas, words, or concepts.
We all write. We use words to sell, to converse, to amuse, to explain. With the lessons in How to Write Short, you can make every word count.
Join me next week on #TheBookshelf for some self care for editors, writers, and anyone else tethered to a desk!
(Featured image credit: Mirko Tobias Schäfer / Flickr and this fantastic article from The Atlantic.)
WoodvineWrites 