The first to speak was Liliana Heker, author of the novel The End of the Story (“El fin de la historia”), which is part of the Biblioasis International Translation Series. She Skyped in from Angentina, where she originally published this controversial story in 1996.  While many non-fiction accounts of the Dirty War have been published since the 1970s, Heker explained that her fictional account allows readers to surpass the black-and-white, idealized impressions of the characters involved, giving new layers and complexities to the story. Read the first chapter of the new translation here.

Alex Boyd was up next with his second poetry collection, The Least Important Man. “I chose the title because the book has themes about the different roles we take on and the idea of importance,” Boyd said. “I think my mom would have said, ‘There’s no such thing as a least important person.’”

“There’s a handful of weirdly biographical poems in the book about people who I think are really interesting,” Boyd explained. “There’s one about George Orwell, one about Captain Kirk, because I grew up watching him dodge Styrofoam rocks, and one about Rod Serling [who wrote the Twilight Zone].”

Mike Barnes [TNQ #107] presented his book of ‘Tales for the Sick and Well’, The Reasonable Ogre, which features illustrations by Segbingway.  Her illustrations throughout Barnes’s work serve to “humanize the magic and ‘magicalize’ the mundane,” Sebingway explained. Barnes read the story “Jailed Wizards,” an imaginative, dark fairy tale. Event host Dan Evans praised the collection as one that “doesn’t wag fingers or try to teach you a lesson, but just expands your imagination.”

Next, TNQ Consulting Editor and Occasional Verse Contest judge Amanda Jernigan read from her poetry collection, Groundwork. The book is divided into three poetic sequences: a “quasi-fantastical/archeological section, an unorthodox Garden of Eden section,” and a Homer’s Odyssey-inspired section. “I’ve always been fascinated by archeology and what we dig up from the ground, and the extent to which excavations do or do not give us access to the past,” Jernigan said.

Finally, the charming Irish-accented author Anakana Schofield read from Malarky, a quirky novel about a woman in rural Ireland dealing with many forms of grief. “It’s an episodic novel. It is a little risqué in parts,” Schofield said.

I’ve decided that any book that makes me laugh out loud is worth buying, so I picked up a copy of Malarky. Stay tuned for a review in Who’s Reading What later this month!

If this multi-book launch sounds like your type of event, be sure to check out Indie Lit Night at the Starlight tonight at 7 PM!

The shortlist:

• Copernicus Avenue, by Andrew J. Borkowski. You’ll find “Babayaga” (Issue #117) and “An Offering” (# 101) in our pages. Andrew’s currently working on a second book.

• Stopping for Strangers, by Daniel Griffin. Check out “Martin & Lisa” in issue #105 of TNQ.

• And Also Sharks, by Jessica Westhead. We first published “Ear, Nose, and Throat” from this collection in issue #116. Jessica is also working on a second collection.

• Not Anyone’s Anything, by Ian Williams.

• This Will Be Difficult To Explain, by Johanna Skibsrud.

The winner will be announced June 7. Two runners-up will receive $500.

Not long ago, I took myself off to a local retreat centre and spent three days alone, with nothing to do but write, think, and go for walks in the forest. On the first few days, the walks along the well-marked trails that took me even farther away from civilization left me a bit edgy.  I kept glancing over my shoulder, peering into the shadows (and yes there are malevolent shadows even at 11:00 am on a sunny day), and jumping at every flapping bird that happened by. The writing was fairly intense. In fact, by the end of the second day I felt as though I’d been in a wrestling match (not that I actually have any experience with this). My shoulders ached, my neck was stiff, and I took to my bed.

But I carried on. I roamed the silent rooms and continued my regimen of writing and walking. By the end of day two I could hear the silence, the crackle of my steps on pine needles, the hum of the refrigerator, the furious tapping of my fingers on the keyboard. I was making progress.

It happened that I’d taken Sara Maitland’s A Book of Silence along with me, in an effort to intensify an already strange experience, or perhaps I should say experiment. Maitland, who spent six weeks alone on the Isle of Skye, talks about the heightened consciousness that comes from solitude, how her senses, her awareness of everything around her were enhanced dramatically. Even porridge became a gastronomic wonder. She described this experience as turning up the sensory dial.

Turning up the dial in order to sharpen your writing is difficult if you have constant interruptions (oh, you wanted dinner, my child) or if the dial is already turned up with the ever-present emails, tweets, texts or just life in general that hums along in the background. We don’t often recognize these distractions as such because we’ve gotten used to excusing them as work (like checking email while doing online research, the bane of writers). That’s why we need to retreat.

There are different ways to do this. Some retreats are guided by a writer or editor who lead workshops and allow writing time in between, some are places offering complete solitude with the writer having no other option than to get on with it, and one writer I know takes a retreat at home handing all household duties over to her husband for a specific period so she can work.

The ache in my shoulders probably had more to do with the stress I felt at taking a retreat in the first place. Was it worth it? Would I get anything done, and if so, anything worthwhile? The answer of course is yes. The key to retreats is to let go of expectations. More importantly we must surrender our impulses to stay the course. We must get off the track, go away, if only for a few days. And so I urge you, writers: retreat, retreat.

Melissa, searching frantically for something in the office, while doing a bit of a dance: “Ugh. This is a sign that I should not make important decisions while I am trying not to pee myself.” (The bathroom is a very long outdoor walk away.)

Pamela calls Humberto over to her desk for some computer help. As Humberto looks over Pamela’s shoulder at the computer screen, Pamela turns to him and yells in exasperation: “WHAT’S THE WORD?!”
(she then laughs at herself and says, “Please read my mind and give me whatever word you think is appropriate.” )

No Context Needed

Melissa: “I used to vomit whenever I got too excited.”
*Pamela looks horrified*
Melissa: “…fortunately, I’ve now channeled that energy into interpretive happy dance.”
Pamela: “Oh good, that makes the clean-up much easier.”

Pamela: “Life without chocolate is….”
Humberto: “…is not life”

Context Can’t Save You Now!

“I have to assume that there will be giant cheese trays or something if I am to feel that all is right with the world” – Melissa

Our Short Listings:

Essay: Alice Major, “The Ultraviolet Catastrophe” [TNQ # 119]
Personal Journalism: Lisa Martin-DeMoor, “A Container of Light” [120]
Poetry: Kerry-Lee Powell, “The Lifeboat” & “The Emperor” [120]
Poetry: Harry Thurston, three poems from “Ova Aves”  [119]
Poetry: Matthew Holmes, “The Failing of Purity” [119]

The winners will be announced at a gala in Toronto on June 7. The cash prize associated with a gold medal in any of these categories is $1000 for the writer (or $500 for silver). Congrats to all, and good luck!

Why not try out the quiz yourself? Let us know how you did!

I hail from Halifax, where I have just completed my third year of a Combined Honours in journalism and French at the University of King’s College, the oldest university in British North America. We are a very small liberal arts college specializing in philosophy, and are particularly well-known for the Foundation Year Programme, a great books course. Nestled in the corner of the much larger Dalhousie University, King’s students can be recognized by their inquisitive minds, their thrift-store attire and their bicycles—picture a sort of eco-friendly, folksy hipster who acts or plays an instrument. I’ll sneak in a little plug for my beloved quad-enclosed school: it’s a great place to learn.

My interests extend beyond journalism, however. I have a particularly vivid memory of when I first recognized the magic of fiction. I was 7 when our family went on vacation to a tiny island with no electricity. What was supposed to be a beautiful week on the beach turned out to be cold, wet and miserable. As we huddled under blankets in the cabin drinking weak tea, my mom began reading us J.R.R Tolkien’s The Hobbit. The week was transformed by this story; I was entranced by the new world that opened out of this book. This feeling has stayed with me since then; unlike Santa Claus and the tooth fairy and most other magical things, I have yet to be disillusioned by stories. So you can see why I’m excited to be working with people who clearly recognize the power of story-telling and understand the magic of words. I can tell that it’s going to be a great summer.

I ended up at The New Quarterly after being reunited with a childhood friend who came to the East Coast from Guelph to take the aforementioned Foundation Year Programme. He told me of his good experiences as a co-op student with a literary magazine in Waterloo, and when he found out that I was interested in a similar placement, he hooked me up with Melissa. If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you’ll remember Symon (he’s hard to forget). I came up to Ontario with him for an interview in February, and I started work here last week.

It’s been a busy first few days. Humberto was very helpful and patient in orienting me to all the programs we use to process submissions and subscriptions; I’m no computer whiz and have grown up on PCs, so there’s a bit of a learning curve to overcome. I also learned how to process contest submissions, which is great because it means that I get to browse through even more writing. I can’t wait until we’re putting issue 123 together so I can really dive in.

So that’s it for my first post. Nice to meet you! You’ll hear from me again soon.

Happy reading,

Charlotte

So tonight’s issue launch party is not only a celebration of 4 fabulous writers we’ve published, an incredibly interesting and diverse issue of the magazine (there’s a short story within about a woman who has an affair with a bear!), and the amazing, arts-loving community in which we operate—it’s also an un-official going-away party for Humberto, our co-op student who planned the event.

I hope you’ll join us in an evening of levity, literature, and live music, tonight @ 6:30 at the Silver Spoon.

Complete details about the event can be found here >

In choosing Groundwork the judges had the following to say: “This book reveals an extraordinary poet. Her vocabulary is extensive, inspiring, precise and rich in meaning. The poems bring tantalizing voices of other times, connecting intellectual traditions and places, at the same time locating herself in her own time and place.”

Two others on the shortlist, Lorna Crozier and Stephanie Bolster (issue 114), have also been published in The New Quarterly. Word has it that Amanda is thrilled to make the list alongside some of her poet heroes.

The League of Canadian Poets also announced the shortlist for the Gerald Lampert Memorial Award given to a poet for their first book and three shortlisted writers, Lisa Shatzky (issue 113), Yi-Mei Tsiang and Leslie Vryenhoek (issue 104) have also been published in The New Quarterly.

Congratulations to everyone!