Photo credit: Emily Cooper Photography Review by Victoria McIntyre Is the internet a cult? Are online communities good for us? Is misinformation harmless or dangerous? Is the future of reality virtual? How is technology changing the way we think?...
Optic NerveMatthew Hollett Brick Books, 2023 Review by Stella Cali In this collection’s final poem, writer and visual artist Matthew Hollett describes the intimate space inside a woodstove, “that blackened cave where images spark / and flicker” (“Woodstove”). This...
You Know You Want This Kristen Roupenian Simon & Schuster Review by Justina Elias Kristen Roupenian’s short story “Cat Person” went viral in December 2017, two months after #MeToo had become a global phenomenon. Following a twenty-year-old woman through...
Photo credit: Zemekiss Photograpy Review by Issie Patterson Any reader well-acquainted with author John Irving’s love for the uncanny will be delighted with Pacific Theater’s simultaneously hilarious and moving adaptation of his seventh novel, A Prayer for Owen Meany. Adapted...
No Good Asking by Fran Kimmel ECW Press Review by Colin Sterling Fran Kimmel’s latest novel No Good Asking is an unforgettable narrative that grips the reader right from its harrowing opening scene and doesn’t let go until it...
Orange Christine Herzer Ugly Duckling Presse Review by Abby Paige “Poets are containers,” Christine Herzer asserts and further, “containers deserve respect.” The image of the container is central in her new chapbook, Orange. A container may be a...
No need to worry if you haven’t read the dust jacket, because I got the unblinking one sentence pitch of Cheyenne writer Tommy Orange’s There There to hitch the most disinterested readers: twelve exhausted Native folks reeling from one cross-cultural massacre come home to powwow at the Big Oakland Powwow, inside a big metal dome. Continue reading Power of the Powwow: A Review of Tommy Orange’s There There
A rainy Sunday in Vancouver lends itself to noir. As we skulked under the steel girders of Granville Bridge, I found myself ascribing tropes to my fellow theatregoers as we walked past converted warehouses. Over there walks our hero alone, the private eye in her overcoat, lighting a covert cigarette. Here, a pair of femme fatales with their red umbrellas. Walking along by the docks, you can almost see the ghosts of longshoreman past. But what was once a foggy place of corrugated tin factories is now a cobblestoned island of upscale markets, touristy boutiques, and luckily for me, theatre venues, home this month to the Vancouver Fringe Festival, where I took in two comedic shows.