In his latest book of poetry entitled Kitotam: He Speaks to It, spoken word and multi-disciplinary artist John McDonald recounts what it was like growing up in northern Saskatchewan during the 1980s and ‘90s. It is a book steeped in memory about the alienation of adolescence and of finding one’s place.

This collection articulates the nostalgia, and the trauma, of growing up in Saskatchewan’s North. But it also captures the strength and spirit that pulled the poet through. His poems are infinitely accessible, his words heartbreakingly vivid and honest. Kitotam is a powerful read and a highly recommended one. 

The prose in A Reckoning is exceptional. Spalding captures the tone and rhythm of 19th century speech patterns in the American south with ease. But it is also dense. Spalding expects a level of attention from her readers. Without it, some may lose the narrative’s throughline. Still, the novel is all the richer for the author’s expansive writing. To quote Madeleine Thien’s book blurb as it appears on the back cover: “This is a beautiful and brilliant work of art…”

Leduc is a master storyteller, of that there can be no doubt. Her ability to build worlds is par none and her prose lifts effortlessly off the page. While I sometimes wondered where the author was leading me, I became entirely absorbed in the novel’s dual narrative and was charmed at every turn. The Centaur’s Wife is a thoroughly gripping and entirely original read. Prepare to be swept away—this novel is a delight.

We, Jane is a quiet novel. So quiet, in fact, that one might be tempted to overlook it. That would be a mistake. This debut novel from author Aimee Wall elegantly captures what it means to have purpose, what it means to belong. Well worth the read!

Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you find a book that matches your particular mood or state of being. The realization of this simpatico starts as a simmer—a reverberation in your chest signaling recognition and relief. “That’s me,” you shout (hopefully in your head.) “That’s exactly how I feel!” And a nugget of gratitude lands in your throat. This is how Kyo McLear’s Birds Art Life found me: Stranded. Aching. Adrift. Just like her.