In addition to the compelling storytelling, something I particularly admire about Shyam Selvadurai’s Funny Boy is the structure of how the story unfolds. It slowly unfurls, chapter by chapter, from the politics within the microcosm of a children’s world to conflicts on the national level, and...
Andy Sinclair [mks_dropcap style=”letter” size=”52″ bg_color=”#ffffff” txt_color=”#000000″]S[/mks_dropcap]orry for the impersonal nature of this message but I wanted to let you all know that I am making a clean start! Dave and I have decided to...
Plenitude magazine is currently seeking a social media and marketing coordinator. The coordinator will work with the managing editor to plan and implement all promotions. Duties include: Posting and sharing relevant content on our Facebook and Twitter accounts, and creating any additional social...
The Hard Return, a book of poems by Marcus McCann, is a lover that confesses into your mouth during sex. It creates space inside the reader; spelunkers through you, cool and disconnected, then suddenly seizes something precious. It creates a new and almost extrapolated kind of literary criticism...
Billeh Nickerson When my friend challenged me to write a poem about the Winnipeg police who accidentally turned on the speakers to their taxpayer-funded helicopter only to broadcast a lurid tale of blowjobbery and oral salaciousness to the communities below I was momentarily titillated as...
I was in a magic realist phase, reading a lot of Latin writers, mostly women, in translation. I loved the way these writers defied North American literary conventions. Anything could happen: a broken hearted lover’s tears fell into batter and made all those who ate the cake sob inconsolably;...
by Adèle Barclay In The Argonauts, Maggie Nelson crafts a new kind of text, an exploratory vessel, out of philosophy, theory, art criticism, and memoir to house discussions of motherhood, transitioning, queer family, romance. An innovative work that is exacting and enthralling, The Argonauts...
I was twenty-one in 1992, living in Toronto with my first boyfriend. We’d spent our last two years in high school dating in secret, so by early ’92, I was relieved to be out, proud, connected. The public streets were still hostile. Dangerous. Bedrooms were dangerous. Sex was dangerous. That...
Meaghan Loraas [mks_dropcap style=”square” size=”35″ bg_color=”#505556″ txt_color=”#ffffff”]B[/mks_dropcap]rian is irritated that the television isn’t working. I tell him not to do it but he’s sixteen and he does what he wants. He grabs my broom. He...
