November 5, 2018 § Leave a comment
October 11, 2018 Comments Off on The Excavation of Memory (Book*hug Blog, 10 October 2018)
An interview by Mary Ann Matias on the Book*hug blog this week: The Excavation of Memory: In Conversation with Kim Trainor
October 9, 2018 § 6 Comments
Book*hug Press invites you to celebrate the launch of our Fall 2018 Season! We can’t wait to introduce you to our latest releases.
Please join us!
When: Thursday, November 1, 2018
Where: The Garrison (1197 Dundas Street West, Toronto).
Time: Doors open at 7pm, readings get underway around 7:50
All are welcome. Free!
Books will be for sale.
Featuring readings by:
Alex Leslie, author of We All Need to Eat
Hana Shafi, autor of It Begins with the Body
Gwen Benaway, author of Holy Wild
Mark Truscott, author of Branches
Kim Trainor, author of Ledi
Ken Hunt, author of The Lost Cosmonauts
Oana Avasilichioaei, translator of Catherine Lalonde’s novel, The Faerie Devouring
The front door entrance of The Garrison has a wheelchair-accessible ramp. Gender-neutral washrooms are located on the main floor.
October 9, 2018 § Leave a comment
Ghazal wants loss. Ghazal loves a wasteland where the sun has, not quite, set. Ghazal resists adjectives, similes. Ghazal is this, is that. Ghazal demands allusions because ghazal is history, lineage, the remembered face. Ghazal craves the Anglo-Saxon. Ghazal says — repeat after me: love, dark, light, shadows, hands, mouth, lips, seed, tears, scars, flower, seasons, words. Ghazal withholds. Ghazal, a — rebel, an iconoclast, clings with all its might to the Newtonian universe. Ghazal talks to itself. Ghazal has faith in the simple. Ghazal speaks or doesn’t. Ghazal adores a trinity. Ghazal is obsessive (did I say that yet?). Ghazal is obsessive.
–Catherine Owen, from Shall: ghazals, p.18*
*lucky find during one of my trips to Edmonton this summer in The Edmonton Bookstore (one of the best used poetry selections, with a particular focus on Canadian poetry, that I’ve ever seen; one of my favourite poets).
- “Two crows on a globe of light / If I could dip my pen in their wings.”
- Decayed plant matter to peat to lignite to sub-bitumous coal to bitumous coal to anthracite, condensed over millions of years.
- Liquorice, licorice, sweet root.
- Snowfall on Desolation. Night sky over Lightning Creek.
October 9, 2018 § Leave a comment
Notes on an accounting of light*
Billy composed a soft inventory,
a calculation of abundance: the way
it appears somehow on every page
yet is still not exhausted. Morning
in my 400 square feet it races
your pulse, raises your property taxes,
balances between cloud and rock, bright
ephemera of winter’s incremental shock.
South and west are skyline, water, Lions
Gate revealed by deciduous sleeping–
birch skeletons illuminated in daytime.
Another factor in this collection’s
assessment, this Library overflow, unending
bibliography–just keep counting.
*from Jennifer Zilm’s The Missing Field (Guernica Editions, 2018)
May 24, 2018 § Leave a comment
“The principal defect of the industrial way of life with its ethos of expansion is that it is not sustainable. Its termination within the lifetime of someone born today is inevitable—unless it continues to be sustained for a while longer by an entrenched minority at the cost of imposing great suffering on the rest of mankind. We can be certain, however, that sooner or later it will end (only the precise time and circumstances are in doubt), and that it will do so in one of two ways; either against our will, in a succession of famines, epidemics, social crises and wars; or because we want it to—because we wish to create a society which will not impose hardship and cruelty upon our children—in a succession of thoughtful, humane and measured changes.” A Blueprint for Survival, 1972