In this much anticipated follow-up to The Sojourn, Alan Cumyn continues the story of Ramsay Crome, an artist who never quite came home from the First World War. The horrors of his years in a German prisoner of war camp continue to haunt him, as does the idealized memory of his long-lost sweethear...
Three brothers find fun - and puppy love -in this wise, witty novel for young readers. Owen Skye lives in a small village with his brothers Andy and Leonard, their parents, and their weird Uncle Lorne. The Skye boys have a knack for turning innocent events into full-blown escapades. An argument a...
After surviving a terrifying ordeal at the hands of terrorists in the South Pacific island of Santa Irene, Bill Burridge returns home to Ottawa and casts himself single-mindedly into building a human-rights organization to stand watch over the world’s most troubled areas. Yet, plagued by memories...
Sometimes those who have the most seem bent on throwing it away. Meet Bob Sterling, a comfortable middle-aged professor, a specialist in the life of Edgar Allan Poe, married to a former student with whom he has a young son. In the space of a week his family, marriage, home, career, sanity, and li...
The second book in the Owen Skye trilogy follows Owen through a series of unfortunate events, which he attributes to the departure of his beloved classmate, Sylvia Tull. Among other things, Owen must endure failing a multiplication test due to his father’s teasing remark that “every year the teac...
I hadn’t told the landlord a crazy story: we really are fighting arctic storms. “Shut the door!” Jess wraps herself in blankets. “Come to bed!” I jam a National Geographic magazine under the door to keep it closed. Then I return to my laptop. “I hope there are no elephants in that magazine,” Jess...
“What are you doing?” Stan asked. His father was on his knees surrounded by greasy tools, and the toilet lay on its side like an upended ship. A dark hole ringed by yellowy black wax stared up from the bathroom floor. The sewer reek was far worse than the leftover Chanel d...
Lillian said. For a moment I looked out the train window at the old blue hills rounded like shoulders hunching to the south, at the quiet little station with its fading paint the colour of rotting leaves, and at the dirt road leading up the rise away from the lot where no one waited but a thick m...
She imagined him reaching across the little table in the airless room she now shared with him, those hands around her neck, how small her own hands would feel, gripping his meaty wrists while the life drained out of her. She imagined Pyke bursting through the shut door, freeing her with one swipe...
We publish in Canada, the United States and Latin America. Our books aim to be of the highest possible quality in both language and illustration. Our primary focus has been on works by Canadians, though we sometimes also buy outstanding books from other countries. Many of ...
His mother’s voice came down the stairs weak and tremulous, and yet thorny as a scrabby old bush growing out of garbage and gravel. Donny immediately lost his sung state of peaceful awareness, though his shoulders remained soft for now, his breathing deep and full, his arms rounded protectively i...