The honourable mention entry in Room's 2014 Contest Creative Non-Fiction category. Sitting on the edge of the tub I look at the large, red sore on my stump—the edges of its oval shape roughen in the heat of the shower, small bumps push to the surface. “What do you...
I learned how to pick locks in prison. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon; the adults were drunk and some had paired off to have sex in tents pitched on the lawn. I was sitting on the scratched wooden pew of a picnic table, playing backgammon by myself. I shuffled the...
I ate my first raw peanut a few months before we left for Sudan. I was taken aback by its beany-ness. It is a bean, not a nut. I had known that, been told, “It’s a part of the legume family.” But in my mouth for that first time, it was transformed. Peanut. Pea-bean....
Fifty years married, devoted to Jesus and family, Mom and Dad had remained your protectors in spite of your adult status and incessant lying, your manic highs and pitiful lows. January, 2010 Fifty years married, devoted to Jesus and family, Mom and Dad had remained...
The honourable mention in Room's 2012 creative non-fiction contest, judged by Kathy Page. Part Five: Beginning His eyes are dark and warm, like hot chocolate, and his movements are punctuated and full of life, like a baby Charlie Chaplin. His new lips feel strangely...
The honourable mention for Room's 2011 creative non-fiction contest, judged by Susan Juby. You arrive at Bjorn's going away party dressed in a neon green sequined bustier and pleather shorts with tassels, purposely outrageous for added courage. The bass throbs through...
I never expected there would be music at this funeral. Let mortals beware Of words, for With words we lie —W. H. Auden, A Hymn to the U.N. I never expected there would be music at this funeral. Before Eric begins, he apologizes to the thirty of us gathered in the pet...
It was a day at the dead end of February that showed all variations of the colour grey: ashen branches stripped of leaves, cement-coloured clouds, steely frost, the opaque pane of ice under my feet, a window into the river translucent enough to suggest its gunmetal...
Our water flows from an unnamed, underground spring. It flows downward from a point about a kilometre north-west of our home. Our water flows from an unnamed, underground spring. It flows downward from a point about a kilometre north-west of our home. We share the...
I am standing in the middle of the ragged highway that passes my home when a wildlife officer offers me a seagull egg sandwich. The road winds its way northeast from Yellowknife for seventy-five kilometres, then just ends. If you don’t heed the giant stop sign, you’ll...
ROOM 49.3 NO CANADA
In the new era of CanCon, as feminists and writers it is our task to reject this Canadian exceptionalism, this too-comfortable back-patting. How can we begin to imagine alternative arts economies, Indigenous economies around art, that start with treaty, that align with BDS? What art, what literature, would such a system free us to create?
Seeking members who love literature, events, merchandise, and supporting marginalized creators.
No Canada | 49.3
Price range: $15.00 through $25.00
Science | 49.2
Price range: $19.00 through $29.00
No Future For Who? | 49.1
Price range: $15.00 through $25.00
REST/UNREST | 48.3
Price range: $15.00 through $25.00
Travellers | 48.2
Price range: $15.00 through $25.00
Wits End | 48.1
Price range: $15.00 through $25.00
Full Circle | 47.4
Price range: $15.00 through $25.00
Bodies | 47.3
Price range: $15.00 through $25.00
Seedpod | 47.2
Price range: $12.00 through $25.00
Utopia | 47.1
Price range: $12.00 through $25.00
