I am not certain that this wasn't a good book, but at the very least, I, personally, was not in the right state of mind to read it. I felt like it had so much potential: an original story, an exciting setting, some very clever and poignant symbolism and resounding themes.Sadly, I was just never r...
In the years after WWII, Jock moves his family to the banks of the Ottawa River, where he complains about the government, and tries to teach his children about life and poetry. But beneath the unrippled domestic surface bubble the anxieties and hopes of the women in the family.
Best-selling author Frances Itani's second novel is a beautifully written, moving tale of the staying power of family through time and memory, and the extent to which individual lives can influence and resonate in the world around them. Born on the exact same day as Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth I...
Representing over 20 years of Frances Itani’s remarkablewriting, Poached Egg On Toast gathers her best work, plus sevennew stories, instantly revealing why she is among the top ranks of contemporaryfiction writers. Combining precise, subtle observation with a clear andunflinching eye for the huma...
Chapter Five The Thimble Man Liz met Roma at the station when the train pulled in. The two sisters spent the afternoon catching up and preparing food. Liz’s husband and children went out for the evening, and now the women had the place to themselves. When Liz’s friends arrived, she introduced the...
From the heart! May it go to the heart. Beethoven’s message, written in his own hand above the Kyrie. As I do every time I listen, I wait for the burst of passion that marks its beginnings. In the camp, Okuma-san said, “When we are out of this place”—he had been trying to tell me about the Mass—”...
He had never seen anything like this before, and he didn’t stop to think. He ran as fast as he could towards the place he thought the object would land. This was a time of war, a terrible war that people would later call World War I. Already, it had lasted almost three years. More than one year a...
ALL night. Part, all, she didn’t know how long she’d been awake and how long she’d slept. Do you remember how we used to have hope? she wanted to say to Am. He had returned to the apartment late, long after she had gone to bed, and had lain motionless beside her. She did not speak when he came to...