Number 22, travelling North on Burrard St. — Vancouver, BC

20-something skater girl with orange hair, wearing purple zebra-striped hoodie, unintentionally colour-coordinated with her copy of Michele Bardsley’s Book 5 in the Broken Heart, Oklahoma series about vampire mechanic and single mom, Simone Sweet.

Over My Dead Body, Michele Bardsley (Signet)

Chapter 1:

Brady was dead. And with Gran and Glory . . . I shook off the heinous thoughts. I’d already lost everything important to me. I was hollow inside, but at the same time, the power within was an uncurling viper, readying to strike. Brady’s blood throbbed inside me, giving me more strength than I’d ever had before.

“Damian, return to the festival and guard the Queen,” said Ruadan. “Take her to the hospital, Patrick. Dr. Merrick wants to see her.”

“I’m standing here,” I pointed out. “You don’t have to talk about me in third person.”

Ruadan and Patrick ignored me.

My gaze fell on the body of Brady. Ruadan magicked up a sheet to cover Brady. I was grateful for that kindness.

Vampires, humour, and sex. Better than Twilight? I’m no judge on that.

Monique Trottier

Heaven is Small launch, Supermarket — Toronto, ON

Caucasian woman, 30s, with short, curly dark hair, wearing black dress with satin sash, tight soccer calves encased in black nylons. She steps away from the microphone to sit with fellow author, Brian Francis.

Heaven is Small, Emily Schultz (House of Anansi Press)

Page 34:

She was one of the youngest, her cheeks still puffed with dorm-room cider. There was a blemish along her jaw that had not vanished in the week Gordon had been at Heaven, but her eyes were absolute amber and her collarbone was incomparable. Blink.

Both authors are from the Chatham-Windsor corridor, a stretch you never leave, or never return to.

September 3, 1999. A reason to leave, if any. Driver after driver sailed blindly into the back of one another, a ten, now 87, car pile up, until the fog cleared, or someone knew better, or maybe anyone who needed to get to work had hit the road, their coffee in the cup holder, the cassette playing subliminal diet tapes, R&B, or the radio tuned into WRIFF, Detroit’s heavy rock. The on ramps would have crawled to a halt, the bare arm of someone who’d never made a difference angled out the window, circling backwards, Hold, while children still slept at home, or maybe only just woke to cartoons, and a bowl of dry Rice Krispies counted down to milk.

Julie Wilson

80 Avenue du Parc bus, Southbound

Caucasian female, late 20S, with wavy brown hair, wearing fishnets, rust-coloured corduroy miniskirt, tall purple boots with pink buttons, red jacket with furred hood, and long, patterned, grey scarf.

Tender is the Night, F. Scott Fitzgerald (Scribner)

Page 10:

It was almost two when they went into the dining-room. Back and forth over the deserted tables a heavy pattern of beams and shadows swayed with the motion of the pines outside. Two waiters, piling plates and talking loud Italian fell silent when they came in and brought them a tired version of the table d’hôte luncheon.

Very dark. Bluish glow from electric lantern.
Romana: Do you remember when we went to Florence?
Noveline: I think that passage is actually set in the French Riviera.
Romana: (dreamily) The beautiful women, the gorgeous men. We drank gallons of peach iced tea and blood orange juice.
Noveline: I remember, darling. You got heat stroke trotting about during siesta hour, then spent two days lying around in the hotel room reading Agatha Christie paperbacks and eating up almost all of that enormous Dairy Milk we picked up on the ferry from Dover.
Romana: I miss Italy.

Saleema Nawaz

Empire Theatres parking lot — New Minas, Nova Scotia

Caucasian male, early 40s, with shaggy brown hair, slouching in driver’s seat of car parked under a light.

Soon I Will Be Invincible, Austin Grossman (Vintage)

Page 7:

This is so you know, I haven’t lost any of what I am, my intrinsic menace, just because they took away my devices, my tricks, and my utility belt. I’m still brilliant, the apalling, the diabolical Doctor Impossible, damn it. And yes, I am invincible.

His son is fifteen-years-old and out with a girl. Old enough to date but not to drive. That’s fine, he thinks. Somehow he knows more than I did at that age. “Let me know if you have any questions.” “OK, Dad. I will.” “Good.” (Three seconds of awkward silence.) “Any question, anytime, OK?” “OK.”

Ami McKay

Kits Beach Starbucks, outside table — Vancouver, B.C.

Caucasian male, hipster, with shaggy blond curls poking out from under fedora, wearing jeans, plaid shirt (urban plaid), and drinking a vente triple-shot espresso.

The European Colonial Empires: 1815-1919, H.L. Wesseling (Longman)

Page 6:

The company system was encouraged, because the administrative costs were borne not by the state but by those who made the profit, namely the traders. In England various overseas trading companies had been founded as early as the 1560s and in 1600 a British East India Company was created there as well. In 1648 it established its headquarters in East India House, not far from the harbours and docks of London. In 1657 this undertaking received a charter and became a joint stock company. Its activities focused mainly on India and China.

The pretentions and stereotypes of my neighbourhood prevail in many ways, yet I do think this fellow was thoroughly enjoying his book.

Monique Trottier

Westbound, Bloor and Pape — Toronto, ON

Caucasian male, mid 50s, with scruffy white hair and glasses, wearing tan pants, burgundy sweater, and brown leather boots.

Blood Meridian, Cormac McCarthy (Vintage)

Page 117:

It grew cold in the night and it blew stormy with wind and rain and soon all the wild menagerie of that country grew mute. A horse put its long wet face in at the door and Glanton looked up and spoke to it and it lifted its head and curled its lip and withdrew into the rain and the night.

In school he saw a film he didn’t understand. It was quiet and blue, and the girl who made it was shy and pretty. Everything was blue. From the bath water, to the kitchen kettle, to the drapes softly suckled by the slightly open mouth of a screenless window. When the horse appeared from the fog, it too was blue for a time until it lumbered closer to the camera where it was so clearly chestnut that the man began to cry.

Julie Wilson

80 Avenue du Parc Bus, Southbound

Caucasian female, 20s, shoulder-length dark brown hair, wearing blue jeans, black wool jacket, moss green scarf, and tweed tennis shoes with leather stripes.

Shampoo Planet, Douglas Coupland (Simon & Schuster)

Page 113:

From there we went window-shopping: lécher la vitrine — licking the windows — cruising for TinTin merchandise and Mylar skull stickers on the Left bank, checking out Airbus fares over crap drinks in yet another café, wishing we had Vespa scooters and the freedom Vespas bring.

A pinkish light. Two lawn chairs. Faint Strauss in the background.
Romana: You know, I like a pop culture reference. And fashionable readers. Did you see her shoes?
Noveline: (sniffing) Coupland isn’t the only author to namecheck that pointy-haired journalist. Remember The Golden Gate by Vikram Seth?
Romana: (delighted) The sonnet novel!
Noveline: Several stanzas all about Tintin.
Romana: I heard that in the original books, Tintin’s dog was named after Hergé’s first girlfriend. Milou from a nickname for Marie-Louise.
Noveline: How horrible.
Romana: I think it’s sweet.

Saleema Nawaz

Just Us Cafe — Wolfville, Nova Scotia

Caucasian female, mid 20s, with long blonde hair, blue plaid shirt, jeans, and large pink handbag.

Before and After Getting Your Puppy, Dr. Ian Dunbar (New World Library)

Page 2:

Your puppy needs to be prepared for the clamor of everyday domestic living — the noise of the vacuum cleaner, pots and pans dropping in the kitchen, football games screaming on the television, children crying, and adults arguing.

She smiles to herself, remembering it was his idea to get a dog. They have narrowed it down to a lab mix or something with border collie — energetic but not yappy. They are going to look at the shelter today. His mother is coming to visit next week. They should have the puppy by then. She will make it clear it was his idea to get the dog.

Ami McKay

Eastbound, Bloor and Castle Frank

Caucasian woman, mid 50s, with long blonde hair, wearing glasses, and white shawl over powder blue sun dress.

Broken, Daniel Clay (Emblem)

Page 77:

It was the not knowing she couldn’t cope with. She got up. She opened the curtains. She stared out on the street. Very dark and totally silent. She pulled the stool from under her vanity unit and sat with her chin in her hands. She watched the street and she waited.

It was the not knowing she couldn’t cope with. That other woman on the television, the Brit, she’d stood in line, probably for days, and she’d never been married, never been kissed. Her husband gone, her daughters off at school, what was stopping her from taking a chance?

Westbound, Bloor and St. George

Caucasian female, late 20s, with short curly brown hair, wearing red collared T-shirt, faded jeans with rolled cuffs, and black Vans.

The Raw Shark Texts, Steven Hall (Harper Perennial)

Page 237:

The old man was about to come back with an explosion of his own, a shouting stretch-faced barrage from under that mass of hair. It almost happened, the world sucking in breath like the sea pulling back before a tsunami wave, but then it didn’t, he didn’t. In the heart of the pressure cooker, something gave.

The day her divorce came through her father sent flowers. It had taken some time for him to get used to the marriage. Initially, he’d been opposed. But, as the card read, there were a lot of fish in the sea. And if he knew one thing for certain, it’s that there was another woman out there for his baby girl.