Month: November 2016

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Rambo of Green Gables: Part 4

by Cian Cruise

(Previously, Part 1: Intro, Part 2: Rambo, Part 3: Anne)

I never expected a manhunt to interrogate the fundamental assumptions of Western ontology. Nor did I expect a Victorian Bildungsroman to present a unified field theory of inchoate gender equality. But they both did,

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Nom de Plume

by Naben Ruthnum

Pseudonyms can be born not out of a desire to fictionalize the self, but to appease non-fictional market realities. Ed McBain, otherwise known as Evan Hunter, wanted to publish an early novel under his own name, S.A. or Salvatore Lombino. His agent gently told him that was his choice, but an Italian last name on the cover would hurt sales.

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Writing in the Nooks and Crannies

by Sarah Feldbloom

A few years ago, I was hired to deliver media and visual arts programming to the youth in a Cree community by James Bay. After that contract, I stayed to teach at the local high school and began dating one of the managers at the Northern store—an import too, from rural Nova Scotia.

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Rambo of Green Gables: Part 3

by Cian Cruise

(Previously, Part 1: Intro and Part 2: Rambo)

It took an awful lot longer to read Anne of Green Gables than I had originally anticipated, what with all the crying. Nobody told me Matthew died. I couldn’t take it. I tried pleading with the pages, my voice cracking,

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Beneath the Snow Piles

by Laura McPhee-Browne

for Ruth Rendell

Laura turned her key in the lock and heard the familiar click of home, to warmth, to Adnan and to rubbing moisturizer into her nose to calm the wind-chill burn. It had been particularly direful out there this evening, and her walk from Dundas Street East to King Street West had been hunched,

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by Miriam Breslow

For two weeks, I woke into panic attacks. It was the December exam period of the third year of my undergraduate degree. I was afraid of evening and afraid of morning, afraid of failing and my brain and the piles of work in front of me. I was afraid of the weeks I still had to endure before I could hand in my final paper and go home.

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by Brandon Varner

When I was in high school, my 12th grade English teacher Mrs. Guy looked at me with her massive eyes in the middle of class and said loudly, “You know, a lot of songwriters are English majors.”

“Really?” I meekly offered.

People around my high school knew that I was something of an aspiring songwriter,

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Rambo of Green Gables: Part 2

by Cian Cruise

Now that we’ve set the ground rules for this month of essays that unearth the hidden beauty of popular literature and sketched out a few of the basic premises, I want to dig deep into these frothy wonders. It’s all fine and good to claim that non-literary works are bursting with latent literary value,

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Between Middle Earths: Book Shame and The Lord of the Rings

by Kate Gies

When my boyfriend hands me his copy of The Fellowship of the Ring, his face pinches with emotion. We’re 20 and in the stage of love where we want to share everything with each other. This, he says, is the greatest thing you’ll ever read.