family
Star of the Sea
Joseph always told me, you belong to Newfoundland. Don’t call yourself a Canadian. You are an islander, despite an Alberta birth certificate. Read more
The Story of Gordie and Skipsy
Jimmy McKay brought our mom seven seagull eggs. To this day I wonder how he could have known they were about to hatch. Read more
Home Front
"My father began his shopping spree in the fashion department. He ordered jackets, sweaters, shirts, trousers and shoes. In his new wardrobe he looks like a mummy that has been dressed up for a big night of trick-or-treating." Read more
My Father's Picasso
"You know what I think it's worth?" Goldie said. "Fifteen bucks for the frame." Read more
Neon Moon
my blood has blessed these sidewalks longer than the waters of Misipawistik have washed my village Read more
Granma Nineteen
Rambunctious children bother Comrade Gas Jockey, Crazy Sea Foam and a man named 3.14 in Granma Nineteen and the Soviet's Secret by Ondjaki. Read more
Peace on Earth
"My father believes the world is coming to an end, yet he commits his life to curing the sick." Dispatch by Marko Sijan. Read more
Shallow in the A Section
"My daughter has fallen in love with a professional hockey player. He refers to her as his puck bunny, which I have decided to find cute." Read more
Uncle Hiroshi
A snapshot in the life of Hiroshi Morita: nuclear bomb survivor, Canadian interment camp inhabitant and prolific photographer of Toronto. Read more
Children Not Prohibited
"She insisted that I write into your will that the funeral must not be held in the rain." "Whose funeral?" I asked. "Yours." Read more
Walking in Snow
"In this poem my father is not drunk. He does not phone me this December night and beg me to invite him for Christmas." Read more
Father Suite
A bricklayer's daughter is banished to Hungary in Patricia Young's First Prize-winning entry to the Tobacco Lit Writing Contest. Read more
My father, sucking bones
Sucking marrow from his chicken bones, spitting the splinters on the rim of a white china plate. Read more
Bosun Chair
Jennifer Delisle recounts the tale of Jean Chaulk: servant, mother, grandmother, shipwreck saviour. Read more
Signs of Life
Does a house that has been home to four generations of one family still hold their electricity? Read more
Do You Recognize Me Without My Tomahawk?
First prize winner of the 3rd Annual Geist Erasure Poetry Contest. Read more
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ADVICE FOR THE LIT-LORN
Is anyone but me sick to death of "impossibly," the
new (sort of) favourite adverb in contemporary
fiction?
—Joe Tilkallen, Honolulu HI
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