Modelled after the American folk music revival songbooks of the 1950s and 60s, Playlist fiddles with a two-part writing system that begins with the songbooks’ contextual introductions and ends with the songs — or in this instance, poems — to which they refer.

“Anyone who wanted to be anybody in Vancouver had a pool by the summer of ’83.” Thus sets the scene for Pools, a novel that delves into themes of excess through the lens of the 1980s party culture.

Highly personalized and idiosyncratic, yet public places of mourning and memory, roadside shrines invite us to ask questions about their meaning and provenance. Sometimes referred to as Roadside Death Memorials, or RDMs, structures or installations of this kind have become commonplace in many parts of North America and elsewhere. The media plays significant attention to the RDM phenomenon and there are scholarly studies which focus on the social, legal, cultural, and psychological interpretations of their meaning. Folklorists, in particular, have struggled to understand RDMs in the context of widespread secularism. Unlike cemeteries, roadside shrines elude the religious ceremonial practices with which mourning was formerly imbued.

The poems in this collection reach for something other than truth, the marvelous. Leaves fall out of coat sleeves, Gandhi swims in Burrard Inlet. The poems are like empty coats from which the inhabitants have recently escaped, leaving behind images as clues to their identity.

The award-winning author of Afflictions & Departures turns her kaleidoscopic lens on England in the 1970s in Queasy, a series of linked memoirs. While still grieving her father’s death and the end of her first romantic relationship, Madeline Sonik moved with her mother from Windsor, Ontario to the seaside village of Ilfracombe in North Devon, England.

Anna van Valkenburg’s debut poetry collection, Queen and Carcass, is a rich, unpredictable, and deeply surreal exploration of identity and the contradictions we embody. These poems, set in locations real and imaginary, magical and banal, inhabited by figures out of Slavic folklore and a Boschian landscape, strive to unearth truths—especially those that are difficult or uncomfortable. At once ecstatic, meditative, and grotesque, these poems confront some of the most fundamental existential questions.

Part memoir, part polemic, Rain City, is his version of a fat old Sixties rock band’s Greatest Hits album.

Whether considering the simplicity of a butterfly in flight or the terror of a cancer diagnosis, Heidi Greco confronts the world head-on, yet always with the fresh eyes of the stranger in our midst. The issues she addresses belong to the world; the settings she employs are international.

News coverage of the fall of Baghdad and its aftermath were the inspiration for Ravenna Gets, especially the smaller stories of people being killed suddenly in their homes in the middle of otherwise normal days. Each story in Ravenna begins as any novel might, but abruptly loses the luxury of becoming a novel through a seemingly random and violent intrusion from beyond the world established by the story. The effect is intended to be that of the experience of war as the sudden end of stories, rather than being a war story itself. This destabilizing ‘pinch’ seeps into the consciousness of some of the stories, but not as a consciousness of events, but rather as nightmarish bends in experience and perception.
Ravenna Gets could probably be classified as speculative fiction, influenced by J.G. Ballard, and, though experimental in spirit, it employs strong conventional storytelling techniques.

Reading the Riot Act is a popular history that rereads and rewrites the legacy of riots in Vancouver. The project was conceived following the city’s Stanley Cup riots in 1994, when official reports and media coverage differed significantly from eyewitness accounts. Later, media reports on the APEC riots downplayed and obscured certain facets of the conflict.