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It’s about ten steps, two metres, and one lifetime to the front of the room. “Hello,” I repeat. “My name is Annahid — pronounced Ah-nah-heed — and shit’s about to get real!”. In a series of deft interlocking stories, Annahid Dashtgard shares her experiences searching for, and teaching about, belonging in our deeply divided world.
What begins as research, by the daughter he would never see, into the life of a Boer War veteran who died in World War I expands to touch on many significant personalities and events in our nation’s history. Though this is Charles McKenzie Marten’s story, he doesn’t make an appearance until three-quarters of the way through the book.
Restaurateur Teo Wolf’s culinary fame is peaking just as a series of scandals and reckless decisions threaten to destroy everything. Teo’s life as a Paris brasserie apprentice is filled with challenges and triumphs, as well as all the regular abuses of slammed commercial kitchens. Still, he rises through the ranks, eventually returning to ...
It follows that there's no standard way of being Canadian, beyond obeying the law. In My Name is Not Harrry, Haroon Siddiqui shows how Canada let him succeed on his own terms. Coming from India in 1967, he refused to forget his past. He didn't change his name, didn't dilute his dignity, didn't compromise his conscience or his dissident views.
With satellite phones down, Laura and her team are stuck on the island with a murderer — and no chance of help. Dupuis’s entertaining third Creature X mystery (after 2021’s Lake Crescent) smoothly combines scientific mystery and action. Fans of Lincoln Child’s Jeremy Logan books will hope this series has a long run.
Elegant and moving, The Stone Thrower is not simply a book about football, or race, or fathers and daughters, although it is indeed all of those things. Richardson’s memoir is cinematic and triumphant, a book for anyone who has ever felt on the outside looking in
2024年4月16日 · Where the Buck Stopped: The Governor of the Don Jail. Copy Link. When the spanking new Toronto Jail, that grand “palace for prisoners,” opened its doors on the east side of the Don River in 1864, George Littleton Allen, the man who had governed its bleak predecessor, moved into a suite of apartments in the jail’s central administrative block.
