Powell St. trolley — San Francisco.

Pixie girl, blonde pigtails, maybe 10, and small for her age. Halfway through, likely approaching the scene where Violet has to marry Count Olaf. Yuck.

The Bad Beginning, Lemony Snicket (HarperCollins)

Page 99:

“I stayed up all night reading,” Klaus said breathlessly, as his sister opened her eyes, and I discovered what Count Olaf is up to. He plans to marry you for real, when you and Justice Strauss and everyone all think it’s just a play, and once he’s your husband he’ll have control of our parents’ money and he can dispose of us.”

Oh no, indeed! I wonder if she’ll make it all the way through the series or close the book before the end of Book One when Snicket offers a final warning, “if you like, you may shut the book this instant and not read the unhappy ending that is to follow.” I did just that.

Monique Trottier

July 29

Westbound, Bloor and Broadview — Toronto, ON

Caucasian woman, late 20s, with long brown hair in hair-band, wearing tan skirt, white tank top, and pistaschio-green sweater.

Mistress of the Sun , Sandra Gulland (HarperCollins)

Page 217:

In the weeks that followed, Petite rode with the King and his men almost every afternoon. She astonished them, riding in close behind the hounds and proving to be steady, fearless and strong, as good with a spear as any man. In a race, it was sometimes Petite who pulled into the lead, and sometimes the King. The couriers could not keep up.

She can’t recall how they became best friends, but remembers the end. Just as school let out for summer, he moved to town, but not to her neighbourhood. They were in the same grade, but that’s not how you make best friends. Your best friend lives next door, across the street, or, occasionally, two yards behind you. Your best friend can be in your class, but it’s not mandatory. Street rules: a nine-year-old and a seven-year-old have more than enough in common if all they do is toss a ball in the street until dinner’s called. And if the parents are willing to check your mail while you’re out of town, both households are on good terms.

He lived a bike ride away — twenty-three minutes, to be exact — on the other side of a bridge. They strolled ravines, straddled fallen trees, and the only time she met his father was the day he hoisted her bike into the wide trunk of his Cadillac and drove her back over the tracks as her mother was about to lock the screen door. The mother pinched her night robe closed at the neck, face-to-face with the father, his suit jacket sitting in the back seat of the car, his tie’s knot wrestled loose to sit on his left collarbone, his hand ushering her over the threshold with a gentle, and final, pat.

Scots Bay, NS

Freckle-faced Boy. Eight-years-old. Sitting in pile of pillows. Blue T-shirt with Totoro’s smiling face.

Firewing, Kenneth Oppel (HarperCollins)

Page: 7

They just didn’t see the point of him.

Boring, Griffin thought. That’s what he was to them. And they were right. There was nothing special about him. He wasn’t a particularly good flyer or hunter. He hardly ever joined in their games. And why should he? They only ever seemed to want to do ridiculously dangerous things.

The wagon has no rails around the edge, no rim, just a flat wooden bed on four ready wheels, led by a bent metal handle. His friends, twin boys, two years older, push and pull him up to break-neck speed for the “Big Curve.” Bike helmet strapped on his head, knuckles white over the sides, he flies along, grinning. His mother is on the porch, hands on her hips, thrilled and frightened all at once. He shouts out to her as he speeds by, her face a blur, “Danger is just another word for excitement!”

Ami McKay

Richmond, BC

Caucasian hipster grannie on orange scooter. Likely doesn’t realize how cool she is.

Water for Elephants, Sara Gruen (HarperCollins)

Page 316:

I stare forlornly at the windows of car 48, wondering how to break the news to Marlena that we now own an elephant, when she suddenly comes flying out the door, leaping from the platform like a gazelle. She hits the ground running, her arms and legs pumping.

I turn to follow her trajectory and immediately see why. The sheriff and the general manage of the Nesci Brothers are standing beside the menagerie tent, shaking hands and smiling. Her horses are lined up behind them, held by Nesci Brothers men.

Sara Gruen is one of those magical authors who let’s you taste the dirt in their words. Have you joined the circus?

Monique Trottier

80 Avenue du Parc Bus, Northbound — Montreal, QC

Caucasian female, 20s, with long black hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing a bright green down vest, and carrying a pink LL Bean knapsack embroidered with the initials “KW.”

The Mysteries of Pittsburgh, Michael Chabon (HarperCollins)

Page 177:

I looked at the black windowless flank of the Carnegie Institute, watched people slip down the back stairs to the rear door of the museum cafeteria; they had nice old Slovak ladies in there who wore clear plastic gloves and served spaetzle and ham and other heavy things. I thought about how I used to prefer that cafeteria to the dinosaurs, the diamonds, and even the mummies.

Sunset. Two lawn chairs. The sound of crickets.
Romana: I haven’t had spaetzle in a dog’s age.
Noveline: A dog’s age . . . In dog years? That’s a very long time, indeed.
Romana: You’re so literal; I don’t know how you can stand it.
Noveline: (stiffly) It was a joke.
Romana: Oh, darling. I’m sorry. I’m in a trance of spaetzle of days gone by. The taste of heaven, surely.
Noveline: And do you suppose the Rapture will come with gravy?
Romana: (A pause, considering) Yes.

Saleema Nawaz

Eastbound, Bloor and Bay

Black woman, mid 30s, with long dark hair, wearing floral silk jacket, and grey dress pants.

Bottomfeeder, Taras Grescoe (HarperCollins)

Page 262:

The frozen pollock blocks are then sold to converters, such as Newfoundland-based Fishery Products International, or Gorton’s of Gloucester, which saw them into patty-sized portions (meaning a single patty can contain the flesh of several fish). They are then breaded and prefried. Alaskan pollock goes into 90 percent of the three hundred million Filet-O-Fishes McDonald’s sells in North America every year. It is also the main ingredient in the fish sandwiches sold by Arby’s, Dairy Queen, and Burger King.

Her first job was working the night shift in the drive-through, just her and a newer hire who was convinced on his first day to grab bags of air from storage once he was done taking pickle inventory. Years later, when she came into his computer store with a problem with her hard drive, he took his chances that she wouldn’t have access to a magnet powerful enough to do any real damage.

Enter the Revenge Lit contest, judged by Dan Wells (Biblioasis), Terry Griggs (Thought You Were Dead), and yours truly! Contest closes June 12, 2009. Crazy good prizes!

Westbound, Bloor and Castle Frank

Caucasian woman, late teens, with long black hair, wearing glasses, long black coat, black skirt, and brown Clarks Wallabee boots.

Black Juice, Margo Lanagan (HarperCollins)

Page 64:

So the day passed, and several others like it. There was night and day of terrible thirst, born of the need to walk a straight line from our starting point. Then we came to a broad, clear river, and we swam it, and stood in the shallows on the far side and the water was magnificent in our throats, a delight across our backs.

She hates to be upside down in the water. The new swimmers were each told to pike to the bottom of the lake and grab a handful of sand, proof they’d come full circle. She’d managed her heels over her head, righting herself the moment her toes slid beneath the surface. She sank through the gritty water to the bottom, kicking sand into her hand. She broke sunlight, arm extended and palm splayed, knowing that back in the city they would be asked to defend their badges. For now, she didn’t care. She was learning a bigger life lesson, the means to an end.

30 in 30: Adam Sol reading from Jeremiah, Ohio. Buy it here.

Spadina streetcar platform

Caucasian woman, mid 30s, with short blonde hair, wearing white jacket, tan pants, and black boots.

Where the Sidewalk Ends, Shel Silverstein (HarperCollins)

Page 93:

The Planet of Mars

On the planet of Mars
They have clothes just like ours,
And they have the same shoes and same laces,
And they have the same charms and same graces,
And they have the same head and same faces . . .
But not in the
Very same
Places.

She was having tea in the kitchen when her young daughter slid a page onto the table, crude crayon drawings of three heads, each with wide, thin-lipped grins, beady eyes, and stringy hair. A family portrait, she announced, bouncing against her mother’s hip, tippy-toed and jabbing at each head. At the bottom of the page she’d drawn a ball of squiggles with legs, and Xs for eyes, then again near the top of the page.

30 in 30: Kevin Connolly reading from Drift. Buy it here.

(Originally published March 10, 2008)

Bloor Line

Asian male, late 20s, with short spiky hair, wearing glasses, black jacket and scarf, pressed blue jeans, and white sneakers.

The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari, Robin Sharma (HarperCollins)

Page 9:

Perhaps he had settle down in India, a place so diverse that even a restless soul like his could have made it his home. Or maybe he was trekking through Nepal? Scuba diving off the Caymans? One thing was certain: he had not returned to the legal profession. No one had received even a postcard from him since he left for his self-imposed exile from the Law.

If he had to leave today to live on a desert island, he wouldn’t take his favourite books, or music, not even his favourite jersey or pet cat. He’d take a box of all the things he’d been holding when she took his breath away. A grapefruit spoon when she’d asked if he’d like her to buy an extra toothbrush. A safety pin when she’d leaned forward to kiss his forehead while he tried to fasten a presenter’s badge to her lapel. A tin of loose tea leaves when she’d announced she was pregnant, really pregnant. And while impractical, his father’s coffin, when he’d looked over to see her crying and realized that, one day, she would miss him this much too.

Visit Saleema at Metaphysical Conceit

***
20 poets for $8.00? It’s true!

Visit Authors at Harbourfront Centre to purchase tickets!

Open Stage Night

Wednesday, March 25, 7:30pm, Brigantine Room

Line up for this lineup!

Oana Avasilichioaei
Catherine Black
Clara Blackwood
Kyle Buckley
Dani Couture
Asher Ghaffar
Jason Guriel
Jennica Harper
Angela Hibbs
Ryan Kamstra
Jp King
Michael Knox
Jacob McArthur Mooney
Alison Pick
Alessandro Porco
Johanna Skibsrud
Meaghan Strimas
Angela Szczepaniak
Natalie Zina Walschots
Zoe Whittall