April is the cruelest month. Except for the trees. They cycle through life and death as if it were a roller coaster. Any minute now they’ll be racing past on their way to the lushest part of the year.
Can one still write without irony about Love, Faith and Destiny in an idyllic southern Ontario? Apparently so, if your name is André Alexis and you wrote a book called Pastoral.
As a Christian Arab he is caught between the Muslims “who say we are the best nation under God” and the Jews “who say we are the chosen people.”
In her politically audacious My October, Claire Holden Rothman crawls under rugs most of us in this province have left untouched, and the dust she stirs up is impressive.
Apples and pumpkins were plentiful, everything bursting ripe as Kathleen Winter read us the story of Kerry’s burgeoning sexuality.
Madeleine Thien met Elise and me in a Mile End alley. There always seemed to be barking in the distance. Fitting for the author of Dogs at the Perimeter.
Some actors carry an entire movie on their shoulders. Irrfan Khan carries The Lunchbox on his face. His beautiful, supple, gentle, forlorn, intelligent, bereft face.
The PQ, like exhausted dancers at the end of a marathon, are ramping up the music and throwing in their final moves. The latest cha cha cha is Diane de Courcy’s promise to erase any and all sense of bilingualism in the province.
It was a cold November day when Elise Moser and I met Deanna Smith in the park off St Laurent in Little Italy, around the corner from her place. But we froze our little mitts off so went to Marché Milano and pretended to buy pasta for an hour. Actually, we didn’t have to pretend.
The sun sliced low above the street, on over to the brick wall of his building. David Homel read us a passage from Midway. A dog barked and everyone else had somewhere to go.
This poem, “Pairs,” is based on the following letter-pairs: bp, dt, fv, gk, sz. Each pair is composed of consonants whose sound is produced using the same vocal mechanism.
It was a wet and soggy October day when Elise Moser and I passed through street number 13 1/2 to find P.J. Bracegirdle’s hidden apartment. We were surrounded by a constant din of construction noise – every single neighbour was digging their secret dungeon.
Mot/town is a video and literary collaboration between myself, Elise Moser, and some of Montreal’s writers, poets, and spoken word artists. We meet in their neighbourhoods, in their kitchens, on their front stoops, at their work place and bring a camera.
NEIGHBOURHOOD. For a neighbourhood that prides itself on community, an inordinate number of parents send their kids to schools outside of Mile End.