The baby had come from a place none of us could remember. Our grandmother was headed there.
The author of Mother of God discusses the limitations of realism, Frank Bidart, and the anguished duality of shame.
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The baby had come from a place none of us could remember. Our grandmother was headed there.
The author of Mother of God discusses the limitations of realism, Frank Bidart, and the anguished duality of shame.
Standing in the wreckage of these spaces unlocks a sensation people often crave, but can’t name.
It’s an imagined past, a pastoral imaginary, an alternate timeline in the multiverse.
“Bird,” he cried, “I come on behalf of the emperor. Your voice is all anyone speaks of.”
Reading The Favourite Game made him into my first sex symbol.
He laid out every root cause and exposed every broke-ass dream that might spirit us away. There was no continuum, no sliding scale of happiness, just confusions that needed untangling.
If there's stuff in there you want, grab it. I'm gonna literally burn everything.
The General and author on living with PTSD, normalizing mental illness and the Don Quixote bent to his life.
Friends I trust, who have their lives more figured out than I do, swear by camping. It nagged at me like all unattempted things in adult life: can I actually do this?
The author of The Candidate on pissing off the CBC, the future of the NDP and whether he'd run for election again.