Book Review: The Stone Angel by Margaret Laurence

By Sara Hailstone

Written over 60 years ago, Margaret Laurence brought to life the iconic character of Hagar Currie Shipley in The Stone Angel. The novel spans decades of Hagar’s life and brings the reader into the mind of an elderly woman facing the final throes of an emotionally isolated life. This old woman is suspicious of those around her, what they plan of her final days and pushes us head-on into the narrative of a past life ridden with turmoil and hardship. What cumulates is the old woman’s resistance to being placed in a nursing home. The Stone Angel is a novel in which the reader cannot take sides, or the reader will risk leaving the story not liking the main character — or they will love her very much.

Laurence has carved out a pedestal for Hagar with The Stone Angel as a memorable figure of modern literature. A difficult woman yet, a narrative that follows the hardship that she faced, especially around her final years. Society was not used to a story told from this point-of-view, and I think we needed it.

Hagar was the daughter of an ambitious and disciplined Scottish merchant, and it is evident from her childhood memories that she sought her father’s approval. Yet she married Bram Shipley whom her father disproved. She is disowned and her father dies without seeing her, saying goodbye, or even meeting his grandsons. Laurence authentically shows that we usually resemble those who raised us, hurt us, and despite our individual borders, we mirror them. Hagar lives like her father, without joy, strung between life events in a grueling cloud of grit and domestic perseverance. She does not share her inner self with her husband and sons, they do not receive maternal gentleness, and neither does her sister-in-law in later years. Her husband, an inconsistent and rough man with a brash temperament, mortifies Hagar and is resentful of her and her sons. Laurence displays a detailed narrative of intrafamilial dysfunction.

Late in life, Hagar is a fiery woman severely skeptical of the true intentions of care from her son Marvin and his wife Doris. In her mind, they are out to get her, and with a raging willpower, she’s determined they will not capture her. She possesses a critical tongue and unrelenting wit that leaves a memorable echo of this literary character. We see the consequences of a life without love.

The plot jerks around Hagar’s eventual temporary escape from Marvin and Doris. She takes a bus to a summer place she assumes will be habitable and a refuge from the fate of a nursing home. Facing the crux of her physical deterioration and surviving for some days in an abandoned mouldy space, exposed to the elements, a male neighbour finds her isolated and on the brink of social composure.

“He stares at me, and then I’m aware of myself, crouching among thee empty boxes, my cotton housedress bedraggled, my face dirt-streaked, my hair slipped out of its neat bun and hanging down like strands of gray mending wool.” She is covered in dead June bugs that she’s adorned herself with earlier in almost play, a theatrical crown, she could “die with mortification.”

They share a jug of red wine and Hagar relays her life story to this stranger. A final testament, perhaps an opportunity with the reader for redemption. The situation is unsettling and compelling. Laurence’s prose can point us in these damning final moments to introspection, witnessing what a hard life for women and the aging process does to our relatives.

Laurence composed The Stone Angel as one of five books set in the fictional town of Manawaka. After writing about Africa, Laurence felt a need to come home to her writing and depict what she knew. The other novels, A Jest of God, The Fire-Dwellers, A Bird in the House, and The Diviners. Born in Neepawa, Manitoba in 1926, Laurence became a household name with her novels mirroring and embellishing rural Manitoba society. She did spend some time in Africa and England but finally settled in Lakefield, Ontario, in 1974 where she died in 1987. She has won two Governor General’s Awards for fiction. She crafted unforgettable and legendary characters who have rightfully taken their place in the fabric of a Canadian literary canon.

The meaning of Hagar’s name is “flight” and “forsaken.” She is a “stranger and one who fears.” Hagar was also a biblical figure in the Old Testament, a handmaid to Abraham’s wife Sarah and in other understandings, a concubine driven into the desert with her son Ishmael. I wonder if the name of the character ever came up with Laurence in conversations on banned books and plot development. In her later years, Laurence broke silences surrounding the banning of The Stone Angel from schools. Due to perceived ‘blasphemous’ and “obscene” language by fundamentalist Christians, Laurence stood by her work as a cautionary tale, also one reflective of a culture she herself grew up in. Laurence was put to the test, she remained as committed to her writing as she did to the character development of Hagar. Another layer is laid in appreciating the tenacity of this Canadian classic.

As Canada’s population ages, The Stone Angel can hold its place of relevancy for Canadian readers. Mayhap Hagar will stand firm giving us a point of reference for those around us who have faced years of isolation and are enduring the final days of health crisis. For women, a stubborn and introspective voice is maybe exactly who readers will need to turn to in facing their own domestic snow globes of living. The Stone Angel allows us to see exactly through Hagar’s eyes to witness a life from the telling of an unreliable narrator. We are even revealed details that Hagar herself does not want us to know. We do not have to root for her, we merely have to watch, she herself will challenge our thinking. She, herself, will challenge our reading.

Book Review: The Whirlpool by Jane Urquhart

By Sara Hailstone

Respected Canadian author, Jane Urquhart wrote her debut novel titled, The Whirlpool, which was published by McClelland and Stewart in 1986. It was the first Canadian novel to be awarded France’s Prix du Meilleur Livre Étranger (Best Foreign Book Award), following publications of the novel in various languages and across European countries.  

Urquhart established a successful literary career following her debut novel. Her later novel,The Underpainter won the Governor General’s Award for English-language fiction and The Stone Carvers was a finalist for the Giller Prize and the Governor General’s Award, and was longlisted for the Booker Prize. A Map of Glass was a finalist for a regional Commonwealth Writers’ Prize for Best Book. She has a collection of short stories titled, Storm Glass and four books of poetry. Urquhart lives in Northumberland County, Ontario, and sometimes resides in Ireland.

The Whirlpool has been reviewed with a lens of motif, plot structure, and characterization. Some have found the poetic language of the text to be inaccessible and that the plot whips around, spiraling like a whirlpool in and of itself. Characters have been noted for their eccentricities and layers of varying obsessions that either consume or isolate them. However, I found this novel finds reprieve in the poetic connections of nature that extends the Canadian landscape into a literary consciousness and further the wondering that is centered around the language development of a character referred to as “the child” who has been deemed to portray qualities of Autism.

Fixed on the churning whirlpool two kilometers downstream of Niagara Falls in the summer of 1889, the reader is pulled into the entangled lives of several enigmatic characters and their individual obsessions.

Maud Grady is an undertaker’s widow. The man had been fixated on spiders and their webs, setting a tone for the structure and plot line that the very characters will become caught up in. Maud meticulously catalogues the belongings of those taken by the falls and the river while continuing to run her former husband’s business. She has a mute son who develops language throughout the story. The progress of his language development loosely mirrors B.F. Skinner’s hierarchy of verbal behaviour that constructed the pillars for behavioural science and understanding of autism.

The boy requests, labels, and carries out reciprocal exchanges, labelling actions and objects within his environment. When he begins to categorize, he seizes objects within the house, arranging them in piles and associations. In a deeper sense, he turns his mother’s carefully compartmentalized world upside down by opening the belongings of the fall’s victims and combines the items by similarities. An awakening for his mother, she sees the bigger picture of the world differing from the way of being she had traditionally tried to honour and pay homage to. I think the behaviour of the boy, alone, is integral in revisiting this classic text in relation to representations of neurodivergence in literature.

The novel’s wrapped in a prologue and epilogue that feature the life of poet Robert Browning and his death in Venice, which has stumped some reviewers. A line of continuity is threaded through the width of the plot trajectory through the character of Fleda, who loves Browning, and nooks her life experiences throughout the novel to lines of his poetry. Fleda is the wife of David McDougal, a military historian infatuated with Laura Secord and the war of 1812. The couple have just sold their large manor house to relocate and build a new home by the whirlpool, and have camped out in a tent by the pool for the summer. They encounter a man named Patrick, a poet suffering from writer’s block who works for the government in Ottawa. He’s come to live with his aunt and uncle in Niagara Falls and discovers Fleda in the woods by the whirlpool when he is out in nature seeking reprieve and inspiration in nature. He finds passion and an awakening of the writing process in Fleda, and so begins his narrative obsession with the lady of the woods. In turn, all characters are entangled in obsession like a web, one that chokes them out or opens them up painfully.

This novel is complex and simple simultaneously. As readers, we can observe with distance how the human responds to others, how they contemplate being viewed, and how they wish to be responded to and viewed in turn, especially when this wanting is not achieved or met.

Thank you to Jane Urquhart and Cloud Lake Literary for the opportunity to write an honest review. I highly recommend The Whirlpool as a must-read and study in pursuing the canon of Canadian Literature and Canadian storytelling. 

Book Review: Our Lady of the Lost and Found by Diane Schoemperlen

By Sara Hailstone

“For reasons which will become clear soon enough, I cannot tell you my name. Nor can I tell you the name of the city in which I live.”

Thus is the reader ushered into the perimeters of a novel that will attempt to package an unbelievable story into something palpable, a story made believable through the craft of storytelling amongst the domestic. Our Lady of the Lost and Found, written by Diane Schoemperlen in 2001, is narrated by an unnamed successful writer who finds solace in the comfort of her home and single life.

“People often ask me how much of my fiction is autobiographical, how much of what I am writing is actually the real story of my own life. I freely admit that some parts of each book are true but I am not about to say which parts or how true.” The reader is enticed to learn if threads of this novel are true; yet, we cannot know the writer. And the writer carefully places the reader within the firm grip of a reliable narrator. “I cannot tell you the titles of my books because then you would be able to figure out who I am.” Strung through carefully laid facts, we are to believe the narrator: “I am telling you all this now because I want you to know from the outset that I am a normal, rational, well-educated, well-adjusted woman not given to delusions, hallucinations, or hysterical flights of fancy. I do not drink or do drugs. The only voice I hear in my head is my own. I want you to know from the outset that I am not a psychotic, an eccentric, a fanatic, or a mystic. I want you to know that I am not a lunatic.”

It is on an ordinary Monday morning in April that the writer enters her living room to water plants and finds a woman standing by her fig tree. Dressed in white Nikes and a blue trench coat and holding a suitcase, she quietly introduces herself as the Virgin Mary. The visitor is tired and explains that she needs a place to stay for a week to rest. Mary wants to rest in ordinary solace and the writer has established the perfect domestic oasis for this need. The encounter is mundane and human; Mary is not an apparition or a figment of imagination. She will stay under one condition: the writer must not reveal that Mary was there. “If people find out that I have been here, that I have talked to you, eaten with you, and slept in your house, they will descend upon you in droves.” Mary outlines the chaos that would rain down if the masses found out about this visit. “If you break this promise to keep my visit a secret, your life will never be the same. Do I make myself clear?” And so, under these conditions, Mary stays.

         The two women find gentle reprieve in each other’s company without crossing boundaries. The writer navigates her understanding of one of our society’s most iconic cultural and religious figures. Chronicling Mary’s presence in civilization for the last two thousand years, Schoemperlen folds the narrative together with fact and fiction, propelling the reader to wonder at the extraordinary within the ordinary of daily life.

         Diane Schoemperlen has established an impressive and solid portfolio of work of Canadian literature, having published three novels and seven collections of short stories. She began submitting poetry and prose to Canadian publications in the seventies, and completed a degree in English at Lakehead University in Thunder Bay. Her first novel, In the Language of Love, published in 1994, was composed of one hundred chapters, each one based on one of the one hundred words in the Standard Word Association Test, which was used to measure sanity. Schoemperlen’s 1998 book of short stories, Forms of Devotion, won the Governor General’s Award. Her second novel, Our Lady of the Lost and Found was published in 2001. Schoemperlen’s 2017 book, This is Not My Life, tells of her love for a prison inmate. The archives at Queen’s University house more than 150 short stories, essays, plays and manuscript drafts of novels. Diane Schoemperlen was born and raised in Thunder Bay, Ontario, Ontario and now resides in Kingston, Ontario.

         Schoemperlen has been weighed heavily for the shifting of this novel between accounts of a monotonous life, and the lack of trauma of the middle-aged author; dialogue between two women—one human, another supernatural in essence—that shifts into confessional narration while encoding segments of Mary’s life with meditations; historical accounts; discussions of the Pythagorean theory; and the nature of truth and Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle. Past reviewers have noted that Mary is not allowed to speak among three hundred pages of narrative shifts and authorial balancing. Reviewers have also argued that the sublunary backstory of the narrator’s personal essence disrupts achievement attempted by weaving in historical and theoretical discussions that strive to contextualize the believability of Mary staying with a writer for a week. One reviewer noted that, “the supposed core of the story, meeting the mother of God, isn’t strong enough to balance the tangents.” These tangents, in my opinion, were intentional and serve a greater purpose in giving depth to the structure of the plot and narrative voice. The reader is intended to navigate the ledges of fact and fiction. The tangents are based on “actual documented accounts,” as stated by the author in the book’s acknowledgements. The writer-narrator contemplates that the opposite of fact might not be fiction, the opposite space is a place “where literature comes from.” She articulates that this place, a “threshold bridge at the border between the real world and the other world, still points where the barrier between the human and the divine is stretched thin as a membrane that may finally be permeated and transcended.” We are to wonder of these spaces between Schoemperlen’s tangents and the narration. That is the beauty of the text.

         Perhaps the author wanted readers to locate Mary in either space. The miraculous accounts, relayed with a basis of documentation and a baseline of the writer-hostess, represent Mary as both passion and reason. I found, as a female reader, the life of the writer-hostess peaceful and her state of independence refreshing. She single-handedly created a space that Mary would want to take shelter in. Not bound by trauma or trigger, the writer created a home that could birth this story, that could house both the divine and the ordinary. I needed this story. I needed those tangents and those “mundane” bits. I recommend others to find peace there in their reading too.

Book Review: Dark Water Daughter by H.M. Long

By Meghan Mazzaferro

Content warnings: gore, death, sexual assault, gun violence, slavery, kidnapping  

As a Stormsinger, a woman whose voice can control the weather, Mary Firth has a limited number of options: be forced into service with the military, or servitude on a pirate ship. When a notorious pirate seeks out Mary, she must side with his nemesis to protect herself and hopefully find the mother she lost years ago. Following Mary is Samuel Rosser, a broken Sooth with a connection to the Dark Water,  the magical world beneath theirs, desperate to regain his honour along with a talisman Mary stole from him. Their paths will take them across the Winter Sea and force them to confront forces more powerful than the mortals who seek to enslave them: Samuel wrestles with his growing powers, and Mary struggles to understand her connection to ghistings which are spectral creatures connected to the Dark Water and who protect the ships that sail the Winter Sea.

Why is it always so much harder to review a book that you love than one that you hate? I think it’s because it’s very hard to put inhuman screeches of love into words, but I will do my best. I’ve been a fan of H.M. Long since her debut novel, but I think this is my favourite of her books so far. Dark Water Daughter is rich, cold, fast paced, and incredibly immersive. Mary and Samuel jump off the page, the world feels real and gritty, and the magic system is one of the most unique and interesting that I’ve ever seen.

Trying to summarize this book was incredibly challenging because , even though bound copies look nice and tiny, so much happens in this story. There are feuds, warring pirates, hidden treasure, a host of magical creatures, dark magical forces, an old mystery, and more. I won’t go into too much detail because I want to avoid spoiling anything, but I will say that all these pieces come together in a way that is incredibly satisfying and gripping to read. Long’s writing is cinematic and fast-paced, she crafts flawed and realistic characters, is able to explore a multitude of dynamics and relationships in a fairly short page count, and is able to write both gripping and visceral fight scenes as well as slower character moments effortlessly.

Both Mary and Samuel are well-crafted, distinct characters who leap off the page and feel real enough to touch. They each have their own journeys and character growth throughout this book, and the connection and pull they feel towards each other had me kicking my feet with anticipation, but Long doesn’t sacrifice other character relationships in support of Mary and Samuel’s connections. The large cast of side characters all feel fleshed out and compelling, and both Mary and Samuel have a variety of interactions and relationships throughout this book that all feel equally real and authentic. Even the story’s villain, with a relatively low page count, is distinct and his goals are explained and explored, though never justified.

This story’s plot wraps up in a satisfying way while still having enough seeds hidden throughout that it’s clear there is so much more to come. This is a unique magic that I feel each of H.M. Long’s books possess, and which makes her one of my favourite fantasy writers. The fact that she can craft such immersive worlds that even without a cliffhanger you know that you have to go back, is such a testament to her skill at both character work and worldbuilding.

Okay, enough trying to be eloquent. The book is amazing, and I can’t think of a single criticism I have for it. It’s pirates in a northern setting with spirit magic, and singing to control storms,  and an old mystery, and so much more. I highly recommend it. Go read it. Right now.

Book Review: Kamila Knows Best by Farah Heron

By Sara Hailstone

Farah Heron presents her rendition of Jane Austen’s Emma with her book Kamila Knows Best. Kamila Hussain is just like Emma Woodhouse in that she plays matchmaker with members of her social circle and is connected to a wealthy clique in Toronto’s modern boroughs. As an accountant with her father’s firm, she also cares for her ailing father and is known within her society for throwing elaborate and detailed theme parties. She is the total package: with good looks and an impeccable wardrobe, she is admired and perseveres through the stereotypes of her career, offering cutting-edge and fresh takes on getting a feminine foothold against the current of an overwhelmingly masculine industry. She is whole in person and is not looking for marriage.

Heron slowly teases out a romantic arc for Kamila, but her character strives for more in a world that, despite its contemporary setting, still limits expectations of women. Kamila asserts her desire to take over her father’s company upon his retirement. In a narrative flushing out childhood issues, Kamila Knows Best is a vibrant coming-of-age story of a woman from a South Asian Toronto community.

Inspired by Jane Austen, Farah Heron has carved out her own style of romantic comedies depicting families from South Asian communities. Her debut novel, The Chai Factor, was widely praised, as was its follow up, Accidentally Engaged. Her debut young adult novel, Tahira in Bloom, was deemed the best rom-com of the year by USA Today. Heron’s narrative style stands out as an entry for readers into lives of art, food, family, and love.

In painting the world of a charismatic woman enmeshed in vibrant settings, with Kamila’s lush Bollywood-themed parties and exquisite interior design, Heron offers us entry into this world through food. During the pre-planning of her Bollywood movie night, the reader follows Kamila into a train-of-thought of menu decisions and witnesses the handmade preparations of appetizers. (She has chosen chili-paneer kebobs and vegetable momo dumplings with chili-ginger chutney.) When Kamila struggles with making cooking mishaps, Rohan, her endearing family friend, steps in and saves the day. Their teamwork results in a scrumptious party and a growing romance between the pair. At the end of the novel, Heron lists the full recipes of the dishes presented in the text. Readers can try out the food in the book, a unique inclusion that further allows intimacy.

Overall, the parallel that Heron draws between Emma Woodhouse and Kamila Hussain transforms this first impression rom-com into a text of necessity within a Canadian canon in giving voice and representation to South Asian communities. Firstly, Kamila thrives within a family dynamic of being taken care of while caregiving for her father. But, if autonomous, Kamila would flourish on her own. Her personality is not confined to construct. Kamila is independent in social orientations and career. She also does not exhibit fluency within the feminine domestic domain only but transgresses gender expectations by being a successful accountant. She is not looking for marriage and love to fulfill her being, but it comes to her nonetheless.

Thank you to Farah Heron and Hachette Book Group for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review!

Book Review: My Face in the Light by Martha Schabas

By Carmen Lebar

Content warning: cancer, physical abuse, suicide attempt

My Face in the Light by Martha Schabas is a literary fiction novel that tells the story of Justine, an actor struggling in her late 20s. Justine is fed up with living in Toronto, unsure about her marriage, and estranged from her famous artist mother. Fortunately for her, she books an audition for an apprenticeship in London, England. However, her audition fails and Justine is on her train back to the airport when she meets an older man. He gives her an odd proposition: she can live in his apartment building and work for him. Fast forward a few weeks, and Justine is leaving for London without her husband, citing her need for time apart. Justine’s story is a downward spiral of her trying to navigate her life at this moment, as well as how she sees herself. Her sense of self is highly connected to her mother and husband, and it’s this juxtaposition to others that makes Justine’s story so captivating.

Justine met her husband, Elias, after high school, and during a time when there was a lot of tension and uncertainty with her mother. While the beginning of their marriage was great, Justine can’t help but feel inferior to her husband. She constantly compares herself to him and focuses on what she lacks. In London, as Justine tries to better understand her feelings toward their relationship and her husband, she also starts to look within herself. I enjoyed reading Schabas’s ability to write a complicated love story that didn’t focus on fading love or infidelity. The focus on Justine’s insecurity and uncertainty was in depth, written in an almost stream-of-consciousness prose. Schabas writes Justine’s marriage with a lot of nuance and care, leaving a very believable and touching story. Schabas utilizes the same care when writing about Justine’s relationship with her mother.

After her mother gained popularity in the art world, Justine had to adapt to her mother’s changing lifestyle — including traveling, moving, and sexual exploits. The closest she felt to her mother was when she was dating a man named Aaron in London, someone Justine tries to find later in life. It was intriguing to read Justine’s thoughts about her mother, and herself, in different parts of her life and how her opinions changed with time. Schabas intricately writes about how people’s identities and peace of mind must be protected. Near the end of the novel, her mother is dealing with a life changing situation that she struggles to cope with. This causes Justine to either be there for her mother, or distance herself. Schabas demonstrates how Justine’s proximity to her mother is greatly connected to how people, and herself, perceive her.

My Face in the Light is a story of getting lost in life, but not necessarily finding one’s self. It offers another solution: the importance of removing oneself from a situation. Removing herself from Toronto, Justine can see things more clearly and assess what she should do. This novel doesn’t try to solve all of Justine’s problems, but it shows the process in which she makes decisions in her life. The only part of the novel I wish there was more clarity on is its present time period. Justine’s present story seems to take place in the early 2010s, but it’s never explicitly said in the novel. However, I think the story meanders from past to present seamlessly, as if the reader is reading Justine’s current thoughts. I would recommend My Face in the Light to literary fiction readers and those who enjoy stories about complex mother-daughter relationships. It’s full of beautiful prose and is a great story to get lost in.

Thank you, Penguin Random House Canada, for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: tend by Kate Hargreaves

By Caprice Hogg

This small book of poems is thought provoking, with little moments of time captured in words. The poems were visceral. They evoked all the senses. The reader cannot help but to be transported when they read lines like this: “The shower coaxes the woodsmoke from your hair, macerates all that’s between your toes, softens callouses that forgot the feel of floors”.

I enjoyed sitting down to read this book from cover to cover but also found pleasure in picking it up at odd moments and opening to a random page to just read a poem or two. I have read the poems over and over. Each time my thoughts would skip a beat with a line in a poem that was completely unexpected. A poem about a pumpkin plant growing throughout the summer would end describing the cat’s new litter box. The poems made the synapses in my brain jump. The poet takes us to a different world—she takes us west. She shows examples of seeing life in a different way, a different lifestyle. Here is one of my favorite excerpts from her poem “Plans”:

I’m leaving town to felt shirts out of belly button lint

got big plans for the coast

where snow doesn’t harden

and you can leave keys in your door

making proposals to salt water

I’ll learn to weave long underwear

out of barbershop trimmings

melt acrylic nails down for windowpanes

and pulp utility bills into letter stock

Perhaps the reason these words resonate with me is because I too have moved west. In just a few words, Hargreaves has transported the reader to a wholly fresh life. I like to imagine that life even if I choose not to live it fully. And maybe as I read these poems more, I will be able to create more of that sweet life in my daily life? Isn’t that what poetry and art is all about? This book only has 84 pages and some pages contain only a few words, but they leave the reader wanting more. It felt like taking a trip and it is one I would highly recommend.

Thank you to Book*hug Press for the complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: Goddess by Deborah Hemming

By Robyn Rossit

Deborah Hemming is an author who I’ve never read before, but when I read the description for her latest novel Goddess, I was definitely intrigued.

Agnes Oliver is a rising author finishing up her first book tour. On her flight to New York City, she meets Jack Verity, film-maker and ex-husband of actress turned wellness guru, Geia Stone. Intrigued by Agnes, Jack invites her to a party at his house in the Hamptons hosted by Geia. Agnes finds herself not only welcomed into Geia’s inner circle but also invited to Geia’s inaugural Goddess Summit on a remote island in Greece. At the exclusive wellness retreat, she starts to observe some odd and unexplainable occurrences. Determined to find out Geia’s secret, Agnes feels a need to protect her fellow women at the summit.

Goddess was certainly a fast-paced read, perfect for a weekend binge. I found myself drawn into the various settings of the story,  whether it was on the plane at the beginning, at the house in the Hamptons or later on in Greece. Hemming knows how to paint a clear image in her reader’s mind. I think this story would be an interesting adaptation and would translate so well to the screen.

Agnes was an interesting main character. She’s focused on her writing career but sort of ends up thrown into this bizarre wellness retreat by chance and is swept away into Geia’s world. I enjoyed Agnes’ growth throughout the story. Of course, Geia herself was also interesting. She certainly reminded me a lot of Gwyneth Paltrow and her wellness company, Goop. It was an interesting, fictional parallel with its own unique twists and turns.

My one critique of Goddess was that the ending felt a bit rushed and there is a lot that happens in the last quarter of the book. The premise was interesting enough that I would have enjoyed a bit more time unpacking the climax of the story. The ending was satisfactory but left me wanting more.

If you’re looking for a quick read to binge over the weekend or perhaps to the beach this summer, Goddess would certainly be a great choice!

Thank you, House of Anansi, for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: Utopia by Heidi Sopinka

By Carmen Lebar

Content warning: death, self-harm, suicidal ideation

Utopia by Heidi Sopinka is a novel that centres around the art scene in the 1970s. It mainly focuses on Paz, the new wife of well-known artist Billy. Months earlier, his wife Romy died suspiciously during a late-night party. Throughout the novel, Paz is constantly compared to Romy and is often questioned for marrying Billy so soon after Romy’s passing. Grappling with the burden of being a second wife and becoming a mother to Romy’s infant child Flea, Paz starts to spiral with her mental health and her ability to create art. The novel was a success for me, especially in the way Sopinka writes Romy and Paz’s intertwined story. Its focus on identity, especially how identity is connected to creation and gender, is what makes Utopia such a standout novel.

Romy and Paz were both artists in college, and were navigating the art world at the same time. Romy’s art was praised throughout her time in college and was heavily admired by Paz as a student, and afterwards. Romy is an enigma to Paz as an artist. Her talent and creativity are things Paz wishes she could harness herself.

After Romy’s death, Paz becomes Flea’s adoptive mother. She finds that she no longer has the time or the creative inspiration to make art. She’s going through a form of creator’s block that only gets worse when she feels Romy’s presence throughout the house—items move on their own, and noises appear out of nowhere. Paz continues to compare herself to Romy, seeing her as a real professional, and seeing herself as having nothing to offer. Sopinka beautifully writes Paz’s struggle with her new identity as a mother, and also her struggle in trying to find her identity as an artist—both in the shadow of Romy’s passing. I enjoyed seeing Paz’s lack of motivation be replaced by a determination to create as the novel came to an amazing crescendo. The climax of the novel really demonstrates how impactful Romy’s existence was to Paz’s own view of herself as an artist and a person.

Romy and Paz’s connection goes beyond just creative pursuits. Both of them struggle in the art world because of their gender; it is a world where artistic professionalism is reserved for the male artists. Women aren’t seen as real artists or as having any longevity to their careers. Billy is recognized as an impeccable artist because of his cool male demeanor. Romy’s art is undervalued compared to Billy to the point where one of Romy’s works is credited to Billy. Interestingly, Romy’s self-image is also constrained by the gender binary. She doesn’t wish to be perceived as either male or female, and she wants her art to speak for itself. How she dresses and speaks about gender suggests that living within the gender binary isn’t for her. Sopinka did a fantastic job of demonstrating the limitation that gender has on people’s public image and self-identity. It was fascinating to see how gender constrained Romy in a multitude of ways, and the various ways she tried to overcome it.

Utopia is an inventive and mysterious novel, in which Sopinka creates an introspective view of Romy and Paz. How the women were connected, and in ways they didn’t even realize, shows just how difficult it was to be a female artist at this time. The struggle to create an identity is relatable, and those who don’t know a lot about the art world can still relate to the struggles of Romy and Paz. I would recommend Utopia to all aspiring artists, and to those who are fascinated by the art world. Fans of Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier will also enjoy this reimagining of the novel. Although not a point-for-point retelling of Rebecca, Sopinka’s own take on the tale is ultimately refreshing with its focus on art and creation.

Thank you to Penguin Random House Canada for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: Healing Through Words by Rupi Kaur

By Kaylie Seed

Rupi Kaur is an extremely well-known poet. She has written a number of poetry collections and continues to be a favourite among poetry lovers around the world. In September 2022 Kaur published Healing Through Words, a collection of guided writing exercises meant to get you writing while also diving deep into your personal thoughts, feelings, and experiences. This guided tour is meant to be a journey back to oneself and a mindful exploration through writing. Part self-help experience, part writing exercise collection, Healing Through Words is meant to evoke creativity and a genuine sense of healing.

There are a number of themes that are explored throughout the book and a lot of them push writers to really dig deep and come face-to-face with topics that can be uncomfortable. Kaur notes that if any topic feels like too much or if the writer is not ready to address certain aspects of their life, experiences, or self, they can skip portions of the exercises. While writers are encouraged to explore trauma, loss, heartache, love, family, healing, and celebration of the self, Kaur also reminds writers to first take care of themselves and take breaks as needed or omit sections altogether and return to them if and when the writer feels comfortable to do so.

I personally love to both read and write poetry, so having the opportunity to work through these exercises was cathartic and helped to reignite my love of writing in general. Kaur put a lot of thought and care into the exercises that she created for Healing Through Words and what is so lovely is that you can continue to go back to these exercises whenever you are in need of some inspiration or really feel like digging into the uncomfortable parts of yourself. I recommend Healing Through Words not only to writers, but to those who are looking to know themselves better or address things in their life through writing.

Thank you to Simon and Schuster Canada for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: The Wild Ones by Nafiza Azad

By Meghan Mazzaferro

Content warnings: sexual violence, misogyny, rape, sexual assault, suicide, child abuse, child trafficking, toxic relationships, death of a parent

The Wild Ones is a lyrical story following a group of girls who call themselves the Wild Ones. Many years ago, Paheli, the first Wild One, was betrayed by her mother.  After escaping the man she was sold to, she met a boy with stars in his eyes who tossed her a box of stars and disappeared. The stars give Paheli access to the Between and unlock a hidden world of magic layered over her own. Paheli uses the stars to help other girls like her, and together they use the Between to travel the world and work through their traumas. When the boy with stars in his eyes reappears, the Wild Ones will need to fight to protect his freedom and their own.

This book is beautifully written, with a lyrical voice and several different points of view. The majority of the chapters are told from the collective perspective of the Wild Ones. By using we instead of I or they, this book invites the reader to become one of the Wild Ones and speaks directly to the reader about the universal dangers girls and women face. There are also chapters from Paheli’s point of view that give us insight into the mind of the first Wild One, a girl who has tasked herself with protecting as many people as she can while struggling to let any of them close, as well as pages with poetry that capture the experiences of each of the Wild Ones.

The book deals with heavy subject matter and has a plot steeped with overcoming abuse and reclaiming your body and sense of self, as well as exploring class differences and the pressures from different cultures on girls.

It is also full of magic, beautiful descriptions of different cities around the world, and a sisterhood of girls who protect and provide for each other. The story moves slowly, but the lyrical and unique writing style is really beautiful and helped keep me engaged. I did find the magic system a bit confusing, and this was not a book I could read super quickly, but every time I picked it up, I connected with the story again and was very emotionally invested in the characters and their journey.

The relationship between Paheli and Taraana, the boy with stars in his eyes, is particularly compelling and complex. I also loved the relationships between the Wild Ones,  the ways they support each other, and the ways they connect with Taraana. The book doesn’t shy away from the traumas each of these girls has experienced, but it also puts power back in their hands and shows them embracing safety, comfort, and community as they walk together through cities they know and love, eat and laugh together, and keep each other safe when threats emerge.

The plot of the book is interesting but definitely takes a backseat to the atmosphere and character work that happens in this story. I did enjoy the plot, but the main reason I picked the book up every day was because of the characters and the writing style, which I found to be impactful.

If you’re a fan of lyrical and uniquely written, character-driven, feminist stories that examine trauma and are full of girls who embrace their wildness and are willing to fight for their freedom, I would suggest checking this one out. It’s slow, but very impactful and vastly different from anything else I’ve ever read.

Thank you, Simon and Schuster Canada, for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: VenCo by Cherie Dimaline

By Larissa Page

Cherie Dimaline has made a name for herself writing gritty, genre-bending stories, from the dystopian world in The Marrow Thieves and Hunting by Stars to the modern retelling of traditional Métis story in Empire of Wild. With VenCo, Dimaline tries her hand at something a little different than before: witches.

A coven must be formed, using enchanted spoons found by women who become members. Time is not on their side and an ancient enemy is at their door. When Lucky St. James finds a spoon in a very odd place, she gets pulled into a different world, and has days to complete an important task. She, with the support of the rest of the coven, must find the final witch to complete the circle.

There is no doubt that Cherie Dimaline is a skilled storyteller. Her writing is engaging and accessible, and her characters are both damaged and loveable. The relationships she writes are what kept me going through this book. Lucky and Stella are stars, Meena and Wendy are heart, and the rest of the coven is so important, too. I do wish I had gotten more from the rest of the coven. While we are given peeks into the lives of Freya, Morticia, and Lettie from before they found their spoons, I wanted more. I wanted more of their histories, but I wanted more of them from their place within the coven as well. I felt particularly drawn into the story of Lettie, only to be left wanting to know her better.

I did feel the world of magic in this story was underexplored. I found it so interesting that I wanted more details. I will be happy to have those details in another book (like a sequel, or even more stories on each of the characters), but I felt left wanting to know what each character’s magic did and how it worked. What is this coven, once formed, meant to accomplish in more concrete terms? I also wanted to have a better understanding of VenCo or perhaps other covens from around the world. The world of magic Dimaline has created is potentially very interesting and intricate and I want to know more about it, especially with the secondary levels of magic that support witches.

This story features road trip-style adventure, a really solid grandmother-granddaughter relationship, solid smash-the-patriarchy themes, and a new world of magic to be introduced to. For lovers of witchy reads, this one does provide, with room to speculate. You’ll love it in particular if you love feisty, unconventional, no-nonsense grandmothers.

Thank you to Penguin Random House Canada for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: God Isn't Here Today by Francine Cunningham

By Shantell Powell

Content warning: suicide, substance abuse, self-harm, sexual harassment

Francine Cunningham is an award-winning poet and author. She is the winner of the 2019 Indigenous Voices Award and Grain Magazine’s 2018 Short Forms Fiction contest. God Isn’t Here Today is her debut collection of short fiction, and it delves into the speculative realms, frequently dipping into horror with a dark literary touch. It has been longlisted for the 2023 Carol Shields Prize.

Each of the stories is quite different from the other, but many are connected by themes of death and transformation and a fragrant throughline of lemon and lavender. The death of a barman brings life to others. A hunting expedition becomes a death sentence. A dead artist becomes an artistic medium full of love. A meet-cute in a porn shop turns ugly. A pleasure ghost gets a new assignment. The stories contain a distinct viscerality: hemoglobin and skin grafts, fantasies of rough sex and bondage, ice cream melting down forearms, and a DIY trepanation.

The stand-out stories for me include the eponymous story, a surreal tale of a young man seeking audience with God in an unoccupied office. Instead of finding God, he finds other people seeking God. It reminds me a bit of Waiting for Godot by way of Kafka’s The Metamorphosis.

I also enjoyed “Spectre Sex,” which imagines ghosts as working stiffs. The protagonist of this story is a sex worker who enjoys his job about as much as someone working in a dead-end cubicle farm enjoys theirs.

“Glitter Like Herpes” gives me a John Waters vibe. Michelle is an aging stripper who makes ends meet by stealing used panties from the other workers and selling them on the dark web. The seedy setting, the betrayal, and the climactic cat fight make me imagine this story acted out by Mink Stole and Divine.

“Mickey’s Bar” follows a deceased barman’s body parts as they bring parts of his personality into their organ recipients, and in return, their memories join with his.

Cunningham experiments with form in this collection. Some pieces are classic short stories, some are free verse, and some are hybrid works, such as “Thirteen Steps” which marches across the pages in paired columns of thirteen paragraphs. Cunningham has provided a musical playlist to accompany the stories in this collection, and the songs sing out the themes of each tale. https://www.francinecunningham.ca/post/god-isn-t-here-today-the-playlist

God Isn’t Here Today may appeal to fans of Joshua Whitehead, Chuck Palahniuk, and the trash cinema of John Waters.

Thank you, Invisible Publishing, for a complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: Cooking Tips for Desperate Fishwives by Margot Fedoruk

By Christa Sampson

I love a good memoir, and I was intrigued by this one from the beginning because of the title. In this book, author Margot Fedoruk weaves the tale of her difficult upbringing with her life spent dedicated to a man whose heart is forever indebted to the sea—something that she initially loved about him, but also something that became the bane of her existence as she navigated motherhood.

Although she has lived on the west coast of Canada for most of her adult life, Margot was born and raised in Winnipeg, MB. Her parents divorced when she was very young, which led to a turbulent childhood trying to avoid her mother’s subsequent and equally deplorable partners. There was one stepfather figure that treated Margot and her sister well, but unfortunately that wasn’t the one that lasted the longest. She did, however, find solace in the homes of her grandparents, especially her grandmothers, both of whom she affectionately called “Baba,” per Ukrainian custom.  

As life at home became more toxic and heartbreaking, Fedoruk decided to remove herself from everything she’d ever known and move a considerable distance away. In one sense she reinvented herself, but on the other, her new experiences kept building on the strong character she always seems to have had. The relationship with her biological father was sporadic and strained at best, but she reconnected with him later in adulthood and was able to reconcile what happened in the past. Margot also maintained a very close and strong relationship with her younger sister to whom she was a surrogate mother basically from the time she was born.

While working as a tree planter in British Columbia, Fedoruk met Rick, who would eventually become her life partner. While there weren’t immediate romantic sparks, she describes being drawn to him in the same way he’s drawn to the sea. Although this is an extreme story of how to navigate a long-term, long distance relationship, this memoir really highlights the fact that every couple faces struggles. Some struggles may be difficult and some not so much, but at the end of the day, making it work one way or another is about making choices and acceptance.

I do like Fedoruk’s writing style. She has a unique way of bringing a topic into the narrative and weaving it back to something in her past. However, at the end of the book, I was a little disappointed. It left me feeling a bit wanting, and I felt like the story wrapped up too quickly. The ending didn’t reconcile the main points of the book for me, which is something I need as a reader to feel “complete” when finishing a book. Overall, I would still recommend this book, especially for the unique recipes at the end of every chapter. The recipes sound delicious, although I haven’t tried any yet, and for those who are into making things, Fedoruk even includes a recipe for natural soap, the product of her main entrepreneurial venture.

Thank you to Heritage House for the complimentary copy of Cooking Tips for Desperate Fishwives in exchange for an honest review!

Book Review: Delicious Monsters by Liselle Sambury

By Meghan Mazzaferro

Content warning: body horror, death, child death, sexual assault (off page), childhood sexual assault (off page), child abuse, emotional abuse, animal death, torture

Delicious Monsters by Liselle Sambury follows two Black girls separated by ten years as they try to discover the secrets of a dark house in Northern Canada. Daisy has always felt trapped by her mother and her life, so when they finally get the chance for stability in the form of a house given to them by a mysterious relative, Daisy hopes this can mean a fresh start for her mother and a chance at freedom for herself. But there is something wrong with the house, something connected to the ghosts Daisy has seen her whole life, and to the past her mother has kept secret from her.

Ten years later, Brittney is desperate to bring justice to forgotten Black girls, starting with the girl who died in the house. She will stop at nothing to unravel Daisy’s story, even as the things she uncovers connect painfully to her own past and relationship with her own mother.

While I like a good paranormal story as much as the next person, I am an absolute coward and not great at horror or psychological thrillers. When I read the concept of this book I was intrigued but scared to read something outside of my comfort zone, but I am so glad I pushed myself because once I started this book it was impossible to put down. This book has so many secrets, so many twists and turns and people hiding things, and I absolutely had to get to the bottom of it.

The writing style is tense and eerie, and the plot unfolds slowly while revealing just enough in each chapter to make the reader uneasy and desperate for more crumbs of information. The balance of paranormal happenings with psychological and real-world threats was really well done, and the way the story explored the dangers of both supernatural and human evil was riveting.

Both Daisy and Brittney are wonderful characters, flawed and complex and scarred from their respective pasts and traumas, and they both feel so real and grounded. Daisy makes a lot of mistakes, but you never question why. Her actions all make sense, and as the story begins to escalate it becomes clear that she has no good options, which is so frustrating to read in the very best way. Brittney is sometimes abrasive, harsh, or untrusting, and she feels so deeply for the story she is trying to uncover. Both these girls were absolutely fantastic to follow, and I loved the way the story wove their two narratives together.

This book does deal with a lot of heavy subject matter, and I highly recommend checking content warnings before reading. My copy of the book included an author’s note from Sambury that details the subject matter, which is thorough and which I really appreciated before diving into this story. Yes, it’s heavy. It is dark and twisting and deals with layers of abuse and trauma. But it also explores hope, and coming out the other side of that trauma, which I found very powerful.

Lastly, I will say that it never fails to bring me joy to read a book set in Canada. Seeing my home town mentioned put a smile on my face, and I adored the references to Tim Hortons and all-dressed chips, and Thunder Bay gets mentioned!

This book is absolutely incredible, and while I do think it’s best to go into it informed, I highly recommend checking out this story if you’re interested in ghosts, cursed houses, generational trauma, or the complicated relationships between mothers and daughters. I could not put this book down, and I cannot wait to see what Sambury writes next.

Thank you to Simon and Schuster for providing a free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: Claimings and Other Wild Things by Noelle Schmidt

By Meredith Grace Thompson

Claimings and Other Wild Things, the debut poetry collection from queer, non-binary poet Noelle Schmidt, is filled with echoes, reverberations, becomings, and claimings. It is a gathered collection—a found collection. Schmidt is a poet on the rise, a poet in the making, crackling with self-effacement, and yet bounding with self-worth, learning and growing and finding and filling their place in the Canadian literary world.

The collection is lyrical, verging on confessional, dancing through the effervescence of thought, and landing for brief moments on memory, exploration, finding, and changing, before continuing to flow forward. Pushing against but never resting on structures of contemporary spoken-word poetry, Noelle Schmidt’s speaker loudly asks poignant questions of the world around them. In the titular poem, they exemplify the grandiosity attempted throughout the collection with the metaphoric claiming of self in a glory of the non-binary.

This collection explores the power of claiming, and subsequently the power of the label. The non-binary poet rises to meet me, the non-binary critic, and we both are seen by one another in a beautiful and encapsulating way. The strength and experimentation of the collection exists in the individual poems, rather than in the structure of the whole. What the larger collection does do is present an argumentation for the question and necessity of labels, of definition with the everyday for the non-binary speaker, and both the freedom and limit of those labels.

The authenticity of these poems, in the way that they cling together and yet stand apart, is something quite beautiful. This collection feels like a chrysalis, standing on the edge of its own becoming. The voice of these poems is in a state of agitation and of growing. The agitation comes from the need to shed the old and become what is new. There are many claimings in this collection and many wild things. I look forward to reading what Noelle Schmidt creates next.

Thank you to Latitude 46 Publishing for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: Welcome to the Jungle by Anneliese Lawton

By Christa Sampson

Welcome to the Jungle is one woman’s memoir of losing and then finding herself in motherhood, but it really speaks to many mother’s stories in these times and how modern living forces us to recalculate, recalibrate, and eventually remove ourselves from how society thinks we should mother. Described as “A frantic journey through motherhood and self-discovery,” this books takes the reader through all the life events that shaped the author into the person and mother she is today, and all the things she realized that she needed to let go of in order to be the best version of herself and the best mother for her family. That said, there is no “best” way, there are several, because each family and each child is uniquely different and the life events that shape you on your journey are not the same for everyone. That is, essentially, the premise of this book: it’s more of a “here is my story—this is what went down and what’s worked (or not) for me” than an “if you do what I did, you will be successful too” kind of narrative, and that is very refreshing.

I personally identified with a lot of what Anneliese talks about in her book. I, too, found myself lost in motherhood and I didn’t really find my way back to myself until about a year ago (my kids are 13 and 11). Yes, motherhood can really put you through the ringer because just when you think you’ve figured it out, something else will come up and it will call into question everything you thought you knew.

I’ve followed Anneliese, or Annie as she’s often known, on her social channels for a few years, so I was thrilled to hear that she was putting all of her stories into a book. Many of her blog posts on pregnancy and motherhood have been shared widely and one in particular on maternal mental health and postpartum care went viral. She is a true advocate in the mental health space and through a transparent account of her own lived experience with anxiety and postpartum depression, she aims to break down the stigma that still exists and the barriers to proper care a lot of people face.

In this real, nothing-is-off-limits memoir, Lawton calls bullshit (yes, she swears in the book, so if you’re not a fan of four-letter words like one online reviewer I came across, this book is probably not for you), on everything from society’s expectations, the stuff no one tells you about before baby arrives, and also what to expect after. There are of course those popular instructional “what to expect” books that were made into a movie, but they are not a nuanced account of the realities like this book is. If you want the real dirt on what it means to mother, this is it. No glossing over, no bullshit.

Welcome to the Jungle is organized into chapters but reads like a collection of essays. All are related in some way, but each one has its own arc and overriding lesson or anecdote. Some of the stories date back to Lawton’s formative years. One could argue that as a child you’re not even close to the person you’ll be when you start a family; however, when you start a family, you’re nowhere near the person you’ll become after going through the hard times, the highs, the lows, the OMFG can-this-day-get-any-worse type stuff. Every experience shapes us. Looking back on where you came from is a prompt for “where do I go from here.”

Lawton’s writing style is very conversational and pulls the reader in. She’s relatable. She doesn’t make excuses or try to cater to anyone specifically. It’s very “this is me, take it or leave it,” and I appreciate that. The mom space, whether it’s online, out in public, or within the comfort of your own home, is hard. Full stop. Sometimes all you need to get through the hard is knowing that there are others out there who see things for what they are—the beautiful messiness of it all—and provide support by sharing their experience rather than imposing a “fix.” Through this book and her online content, Anneliese Lawton does exactly that, and I’m here for it. 10/10 recommend.

Thank you to Pandamonium Publishing for the complimentary copy of Welcome to the Jungle in exchange for an honest review!

Book Review: The Fake by Zoe Whittall

By Kaylie Seed

Content warnings: mentions of suicide, mentions of domestic violence

The Fake is one of those stories that starts and ends in the middle of a larger story. There is no true beginning or ending but instead, the reader will be immersed in a tense tale that will leave them wanting to know what is going to happen next. A fast-paced novella, The Fake is bound to drag readers through numerous emotions before the final page. This story about a conartist (or is she?) who manipulates others for emotional gain will have readers wondering who or what to believe.

Since Shelby’s wife died she has yet to feel alive like before. She cannot seem to find the strength to be herself anymore. After finally deciding to attend a group grief counseling session, Shelby meets Cammie, a high-energy, charismatic, young woman who has had a number of things go wrong in her life. Gibson has recently divorced his wife and while trying to rediscover himself, he meets Cammie, who he thinks is the best thing to ever happened to him. Cammie seems to keep it all together which inspires Shelby to start taking her life back and has Gibson head over heels. But after Shelby and Gibson start comparing notes, they feel that Cammie may not be as forthcoming as she portrays.

Readers will learn about Cammie through Shelby, Gibson, and Cammie herself. All three of these characters are deeply flawed, but this makes them all feel so real. Shelby and Gibson are believable narrators, but Cammie is completely unbelievable and unreliable. Readers may find themselves wanting to show Cammie empathy and understanding in the beginning, but as the story progresses, they will find themselves questioning Cammie’s intentions.

The Fake is a quick read that packs a punch even with the lower page count. Quality over quantity shines in this one and will leave the reader wanting to know more and maybe with the feeling that there are a lot of unanswered questions. Is the story predictable? Yes, but it captures the reader's attention and keeps them engaged—the sign of a well-written story. Readers who enjoy Whittall’s other works or those who enjoy contemporary fiction will likely enjoy The Fake.

Thank you, HarperCollins Canada, for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: The Berry Pickers by Amanda Peters

By Erica Wiggins

Content warnings: child labour, loss of a child, miscarriage, abuse

The Berry Pickers is a story about a Mi’kmaq family in 1962 who travels to Maine to pick blueberries with their five children, including six-year-old Joe and four-year-old Ruthie. When Ruthie disappears from her favourite rock her brother, Joe, the last one to see her, is devastated. Elsewhere in Maine, a young girl named Norma grows up as an only child with a distant father and an overprotective mother. As Norma gets older, she feels her family is holding something back and Norma is determined to find the truth. This debut novel is written by Amanda Peters, a writer of Mi’kmaq and settler ancestry. She currently lives in Nova Scotia, Canada.

Sometimes you finish a book and easily write a review about it, spilling everything you loved or didn’t and move on to the next book. Then a book comes along, and you wonder how you will ever find the right words to adequately describe your experience reading it. For me, The Berry Pickers falls into the latter category and while I don’t think I can do this book justice in describing it, I am going to try.

The Berry Pickers reads in alternating perspectives between Joe and Norma while flashing from the present day to the past. The author fully immerses you in the locations, bringing them to life and helping you connect to these families. One young family experiences so much trauma and loss but still comes together. After their youngest child goes missing, they never fail in their belief that she is out there somewhere. It is so tragic yet heartwarming to watch this family come together. In another family, fleeting glimpses of the past and a continued quest to find your own history, to find your place in the world, to find forgiveness, and to be at peace with yourself.

All of this is to say that this story is stunning, beautifully written, and heartbreaking. I experienced so many emotions and was rooting for each family to discover the truth, to find closure and peace. I learned about the challenges in life and the split-second decisions that can change your life forever. 

I loved Joe, the doting and conflicted brother. I loved Norma, the precocious and inquisitive child. I became quickly attached to these characters. It felt like I was reading a biography of two families. This will be a story that I recommend to anyone and everyone who will listen. I will tell them that they will likely see themselves in one or all of these characters in the way they make decisions to protect who they love. I will tell them they will read heartbreak, but also hope and determination.  

This is a story that will stay with me. It is a story that made me think and feel. It drew me into a world and brought it to life. What more can we ask for from a story?

Thank you, HarperCollins Canada, for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: The Theory of Crows by David A. Robertson

By Sara Hailstone

The Theory of Crows is David A. Robertson’s first adult novel, and offers a healing narrative of a father and daughter relationship that begins fraught with strain. Matthew, a middle-aged man, is presented in a state of existential crisis. He has been caught cheating on his wife with a co-worker through a series of inappropriate texts and workplace connections. Holly finds her father’s texts and observes the conflict between her parents, and she confronts her father, who was more present for her when she was younger. She spirals and becomes disconnected from her father and herself. Embedded within Matthew’s pain is a quiet spiritual detachment from reality, and yet, an ancient way of being propels him to seek connection with the microcosm of nature, the fabric of stars, the turn of leaf and wind. In recurring images like his father’s hand resting on his child’s belly, Matthew strives to find his breath again in a pit of regret, shame, and guilt.

When his father, Moshum, crosses over, Matthew and Holly set aside estrangement and seek out the family’s northern trapline to put to rest Moshum’s ashes and return him home. A gentle shifting between narrative point of view offers a steady stream of consciousness and a father’s gentle teachings.  

David A. Robertson has steadily carved out his space in literary circles within Canada and abroad as an author from the Norway House Cree Nation. With a portfolio of children’s books and texts for young readers, Robertson has made his mark as a prominent voice. His list of awards and accolades is long, among them the 2021 Writer’s Union of Canada Freedom to Read Award, The Globe and Mail Children’s Storyteller of the Year, two Governor General’s Literary Awards, the McNally Robinson Best Book for Young People Award, and the shortlist for the Ontario’s Library Association’s Silver Birch Award. Robertson is also the host of Kíwew (Key-Way-Oh), an award-winning podcast. I have encountered Robertson in humble settings, presenting his latest upcoming children’s book to the students in our school board and offering a compassionate and optimistic space for youth in conversations about residential schools while sharing his personal connections to the land.

The Theory of Crows offers knowledge that helps build allyship, telling us that the starting point is acknowledging that no matter what our background, we share something with everybody on the planet: “That you are human.” We can come together in the space of this text. As an educator, I was offered valuable insight into Holly’s experience of being Indigenous in a school setting. Learning new vocabulary like Indigeneity, a word that is used to “describe the state of being Indigenous” and which Holly uses to break down assumptions she has of what her elder’s counselling space would be like when she ventures in to sit with her.[1] This scene helped me contextualize what my students might be going through.

Next, profiling or tokenism, terms referred to when an Indigenous topic is brought up in class and the Indigenous student is called upon to validate and embody the components of the flow of that conversation. “How the fuck should I know?” Holly demands, before being sent out of class. I learned from this scene and strive to not actualize it in the setting of my own classroom. Lastly, I learned about blood memory: “It’s like your ancestors, their lives and experiences, living in you,” [Matthew] said. “Embedded into your DNA.” These teachings help inform me as an educator and better equip me if I introduce this text in a course.

Robertson’s depiction and honouring of sacred spiritual alliances further moves this text into current conversations surrounding the representation of and engagement with animals in literature. Rejecting the colonial framework that objectifies and flattens it into symbolism, Robertson sets nature free and depicts a way of walking in balance with the environment that can help shift current paradigms and society’s interaction with the world around it. Calling back to the title of the book, the theory of crows connects to land memory and crow knowing.

Your grandfather used to say that you could remember the land, even if you’d never been on the land before. Your grandfather used to say that the land could remember you. It works the same way with crows, Hallelujah. They remembered him, they would remember me, and they remember you. They pass these things down through the generations.

We are the extension of the land and exist together within reciprocal exchanges. We are the land; when we walk upon it, we become it and root down into blood memory and holistic being. With discrete layers of the ethereal and interaction with the spiritual realm, Robertson has crafted a first adult novel that will be shelved alongside canonic texts of literature. This is only the beginning.

Thank you to Harper Perennial for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review!

[1] Queen’s University Office of Indigenous Initiatives. 2023. “Decolonizing and Indigenizing,” https://www.queensu.ca/indigenous/decolonizing-and-indigenizing/defintions.