Books like Nights Below Station Street

I rooted for nearly every character in the book, despite their being ornery survivors who might be a little too fractious and independent-minded to enjoy as neighbors. The one exception was a devious and self-serving guy, proving that good stories need contrasts.

The book reads more like a set of linked stories than a straight novel. St. Pierre spins engaging tales that deliver a unique combination of earthy humor and a fine portrayal of the ranch country of the central interior of British Columbia.

I was very much taken with this novel’s blend of romance, mystery, and exploration of whether you can ever go home again. Raddall doesn’t get much mention and is largely remembered for his other novels when he does. That’s a shame.

This 1956 work stands up very well against more recent works. It features unadorned yet persuasive prose that many modern writers can only wish for. Raddall quite evidently intended it as a loving, almost lyrical, description of rural Nova Scotia. He succeeded.

A rich mix here: humor, mild suspense, serious themes encompassing Jewishness and the fallout of the Nazis’ mass murder of European Jews, and cautionary themes about obsessions and the dangers of hero worship. The background setting is a Montreal neighborhood Richler grew up in, knew well, and happily depicted.

Some of Richler’s other novels also describe Montreal and some of its people. You could argue that Barney’s Version and Solomon Gursky Was Here are better books overall. I particularly liked this one because it has a youthful verve and adventurous feel.

The descriptions of interpreting aerial reconnaissance photos during the Second World War were interesting. But the real hook for me was the compelling portrayal of small-town Saskatchewan life in the 1940s. The heroine—and the book does have a streak of chick lit about it—sounded like the real people I met while working as a reporter in Saskatchewan during the mid-1970s. Her hometown was recognizable, too. I keep hoping some of the spirit of these places and their people will survive well into the 2000s.

In both my novels I explore the cultural, almost exclusively oral history of Maine woodsmen and -women. An old man now, I knew people who worked as loggers, river drivers, and so on before the advent of power tools, electricity, or motorized hauling.

A non-writer friend told me about this book, which is concerned with the same culture across the New Brunswick border, mere miles from where my novels are set. His evocation of that arduous, raconteur-populated, dangerous world bolstered my own seat-of-the-pants knowledge and offered a wealth of specific physical detail and a sense of storytelling’s central importance in the old logging communities.

The book, then, served as a model for my own explorations of a culture whose likes we will never see again and whose preservation in words is among my own most passionate aims. 

The last book in Lucy Maud Montgomery’s beloved Anne of Green Gables series, this volume focuses on Anne’s children as they grow into adulthood during the tumultuous years of World War I.

With Anne’s youngest daughter Rilla as the central protagonist, Rilla of Ingleside is the poignant story of a young woman coming of age at a time when people thought the world might be coming to an end.

Rilla grows from a spoiled and flighty young teen to a capable and level-headed young woman as she watches the young men in her community – her brothers included – march off to war.

While it’s not central to the story, a highlight of this book is Dog Monday, the little yellow dog belonging to Rilla’s eldest brother, whose loyalty as he patiently waits at the train station for his master’s return knows no bounds.

Although it’s the final book in… show more.

Pastoral is one of my favorite recent discoveries. It’s one of a quincunx of novels linked by exploration of five classic literary genres—in this case the currently unfashionable pastoral. Newly ordained priest Christopher Pennant isn’t greatly pleased that his first parish assignment is to a rural town where sheep are numerous. He assumes he’ll be a suitable shepherd to the humans, people he expects to be simple and straightforward. Of course, they aren’t. They’re not only as complex as people anywhere else, but very unexpected. Father Pennant not only finds he has a self-appointed cello-playing chef as rectory caretaker, but he witnesses three possible miracles. Or are they trickery? I love the depth and gentle humor in the priest’s attempts to understand his parishioners and himself. And nature, too.

George Manuel was once asked by a white coworker, “Does Indians have feelings?” Refusing dehumanization, Manuel reveals the ongoing colonial relations between First Nations and the Canadian settler state. He charts his political journey from Secwepemcúl̓ecw to the National Indian Brotherhood to the World Council of Indigenous Peoples.

Manuel argues that the victories of the anti-colonial independence movements of the twentieth century did not end colonial domination of Indigenous Peoples—what he calls the Fourth World. The Fourth World is not a destination but the right to travel on your own road in your own way.

With a new insightful introduction, foreword, and afterword, the book's latest edition shows how Manuel’s analysis of colonialism and vision for solidarity continue to be relevant to contemporary struggles for decolonization. 

From the very first page, Someone Like You had me hooked.

This is one of those books you pick up “just to start” and before you know it, hours have disappeared because you simply can’t put it down. It’s full of interesting characters and plot twists and left me feeling on edge, with my heart racing as I turned those pages faster and faster. 

I loved the setting with its super creepy vibes, which only increased exponentially when more and more scary things started happening. I really warmed to Carey and her son and was rooting for them throughout. The explanations at the end made complete sense and tied things up perfectly.

I thought this was an excellent debut novel and I look forward to reading more by Elena Frost. 

My son works with the unhoused in our city.

This is a book about extreme compassion, and the long and torturous work of it in the face of neighbourhood fear and municipal hostility towards those who live without fixed addresses and all that that entails. 

Further, I see in Encampment the hope that on a personal and social level, we all have it within us to understand people we didn't think we could and keep alive the capacity we're born with to love those whom so many tell us we should not.