:: Crow weather

In which E. B. White and I share an April morning.

:: The t&p editorial collective offers seven feeble excuses for the extended break between our previous two entries

In which we try to explain our silence for lo, these many months.

:: Of shortlists and self-indulgence

In which we celebrate the resolution of the writers’ strike, which has paralyzed the t&p production line for too many months.

:: Of Eiffel Towers

In which time passes, and things that were once considered anathema are found to have a previously unnoticed charm.

:: In review: Walk The Blue Fields

In which we praise the writing skills of Irish author Claire Keegan.

:: Lest we forget

In which we anticipate the launch of the Vancouver Memory Festival on November 11th.

:: The imaginary book club

In which your correspondent observes an imaginary book club in process, an experience which later reflection convinces him must have been a dream.

:: Browse 'em or lose 'em

In which we try to imagine a future devoid of used bookstores; even Cormac McCarthy’s ‘The Road’ was not so bleak…

:: Winterizing your punctuation

In which the t&p editorial collective joins Michael Winter’s global crusade against the apostrophe.

:: Word on the Street

In which your correspondent does his ‘hunter-gatherer’ thing, venturing out on a very rainy Sunday to bring back something to fresh read with a hot mug of tea beside a crackling fire.

:: Here we go again

In which we provide our faithful readers with a vivid report from the frontlines, as the battle wages between Mother Nature and a plucky pair of optimists. The future of the entire cosmos hangs in the balance.

:: On friendship

In which your correspondent investigates the limits of friendship.

:: Plain-looking people, badly dressed

In which we speculate on the future of writing and publishing: in an apocalyptic, post-multimedia-conglomerate future…

:: la Sentinelle

In which the editorial collective interrupts its vacation to bring you an exclusive report, brought to you direct from the balcony of le Grand Hotel in Barcelonette, a small town tucked away in the valley of the Ubaye in the French Alps, just 37 km by road from the Italian border (courtesy of an wireless network left unsecured by some unknown benefactor…)

:: Night moves

In which we speculate on the role of the observor in maintaining order in the universe.

:: Vacation: a definition

In which an unaccustomed idleness is experienced, and found to be quite pleasant.

:: Books to avoid

In which we point readers towards some useful Internet resources that will help them select reading material.

:: Of guilt, books, and breakfast

In which your corrspondent wrestles with feelings of guilt before breakfast…

:: The physics of literature

In which your correspondent strays into dangerous territory by offering advice of a literary nature to one who has no need of such.

:: T. S. Eliot and I

In which we document a fateful encounter between two of this century’s foremost modernists.

:: New! Improved! But still with that famous Geist flavour...

In which we do something which seems counter to the editorial collective’s goal of ruling the blog universe: we direct our loyal readers to another site. Noble of us, don’t you think?

:: American parcels

In which your correspondent enters the lists with Evelyn Waugh.

:: Living in the shadows

In which your correspondent takes a dim view of things…

:: Walrus droppings

In which the t&p editorial collective presents a selection of tantalizing extracts from the current issue of The Walrus.

:: The grind heard around the world

In which your correspondent describes a street performance piece - a spectacle! - which interrupted his normally staid afternoon routine.

:: It's that time of year again...

In which we recall that strawberries (and good literature) are all it takes to make a summer. The sun goes without saying, of course, as does the Chateau Peyraguey…

:: Across (8.3% of) Canada by bicycle

In which your correspondent considers the possibility of travelling across Canada by bicycle. A journey in stages. Many stages. Spread out over (many) years…

:: In review: Divisadero

In which we offer an extended (re)consideration of Michael Ondaatje’s first novel in seven years, in the process evolving a theory explaining the relationship between a reader and those authors he considers to be “particular favorites.”

:: Canned Utopia

In which we trip down an alternate timeline in an attempt to divert Sir Thomas More from his historic fate…

:: Toute la mémoire du monde

In which we investigate a future from the past, a future in which all mysteries are resolved.

:: Keepeth thee on Truckin'

In which we speculate on what might have happened had the Bard of Avon favored a crescent wrench rather than a quill.

:: The famous poet

In which we meet a grown man who not only admits to writing poetry, but is willing to read it aloud.

:: May flowers

In which we apologize — in a roundabout, finger-pointing way — for our lethargy of late, and promise to do better…

:: Census of the senses from a Saturday crosstown bike ride

In which a sunny Saturday is spent in the best possible manner: testing our senses in the fresh air and sunshine; March going out like an obstreperous lamb.

:: Findings from a Friday off

In which a selection of things picked up during a morning spent wandering at leisure, while most of the world worked…

:: Places I'd rather be: la France d'antan

In which the editorial collective attempts to escape from the rainy weather with the assistance of four literary time-travel machines.

:: Go boating

In which we recommend a favorite film.

:: BC Book Prize finalists announced

In which we celebrate BC authors, books, and magazines…

:: Vancouver's new Poet Laureate

In which we offer our congratulations to George McWhirter, appointed today as Vancouver’s inaugural Poet Laureate.

:: The most written novel in history

In which we gingerly step through puddles of penguin blood to take another look at the ‘A Million Penguins’ wikinovel experiment.

:: Typographic tenements

In which Robert Bringhurst take on the book-design establishment.

:: A million savage penguins

In which the editorial collective embarks upon a collaborative novel-writing project. Starting small, but planning to build upon a solid foundation.

:: Men writing about food

In which we consider the proposition that “Food is a great literary theme.”

:: Unimaginable wealth undoubtedly awaits!

In which we embellish a recurring fantasy; we find it helps to pass the (winter) time…

:: Pay the piper

In which we celebrate Robbie Burns, the national poet of Scotland, called by some ‘The Bard.’

:: Book sale alert!

In which we promote our favorite pastime: buying books.

:: Blue Monday

In which we retrospectively consider the most depressing day of the year.

:: What? This isn't normal work?

In which Orhan Pamuk answers ‘the question we writers are asked most often, the favorite question: Why do you write?’

:: In review: Writing Life

In which we beat the drum for an excellent collection of essays, put together and published to raise funds for PEN Canada.

:: Some mild nervous disorder, probably

In which we point you towards a wonderful new daily source of belles lettres: literary vitamins for writers and readers both.

:: The Maytrees

In which we whet your appetite for Annie Dillard’s forthcoming novel (Summer 2007).

:: Divisadero

In which we do our level best to control the flow of saliva, and fight valiantly (and unsuccessfully) to stave of waves of envy.

:: You can almost see Spring from here

In which your correspondent tries to walk his way out of Winter.

:: Two weeks later in Peking

In which the modest semicolon continues to change lives for the better. Next step: beatification! “Saint Semicolon” here we come…

:: A Rome of one's own

In which we sniff at the paltry dreams of today’s literary novelists…

:: The Clemenceau Diet

In which our staff dieticians make a few respectful suggests to Monsieur Georges Clemenceau as he prepares for the Versailles Conference

:: The swan in waiting

In which we take an overdue look at E. B. White’s children’s book, The Trumpet of the Swan.

:: Alexandria

in which we revisit the first of Durrell’s Alexandria Quartet.

:: The Odyffey

In which we learn that concrete poetry, and the ‘Ouvroir de littérature potentielle’, can both trace their origins to the Ptolemies.

:: Self-ish

In which we step inside Will Self’s writing room.

:: The Best Sandwich in New York

In which we savor a sandwich fresh from Manhattan of the 1920s…

:: closebrackets

in which we note the passing of another favorite blog.

:: Ennui // On you

In which the editorial collective is contrite, and begs forgiveness for their wrongdoings.

:: Applied hydrology

In which we witness an incident of time travel on the rainy streets and sidewalks of Vancouver’s downtown.

:: The charm was constant

In which we offer one final excerpt from Waugh’s ‘Put Out More Flags’ before turning to the ‘To Be Read’ shelf for our next selection.

:: Plath's boredom

In which fourteen more lines are added to Sylvia Plath’s body of work.

:: Men and gods

In witch we mingle with the gods for single day.

:: Here he intended to write a book

In which Evelyn Waugh describes the life of an expatriate writer

:: Avaricious, egotistical, jealous and ungrateful

In which Evelyn Waugh gives brief profiles of the principles in a British publishing firm, circa 1942.

:: Artists, Writers and Seekers of Refuge

In which readers are offered an insider’s view of “Canada’s Leading not for profit Educational Retreat Centre, […] the start of a journey, often a journey of a lifetime.”

:: Eat well. Live well. Keep it simple.

In which we suggest several food items to help you save the planet while snacking.

:: Those stories have gone away

In which Roger Angell describes the way in which writing purges memory.

:: Book scouting: the golden days

In which we offer you a tale from the glory days of used book stores, when treasures were to be had for the taking…

:: Laureate too

In which we consider the possibilities of Vancouver soon having its very own pet poet.

:: Chrysalis

In which we eat the last of summer.

:: Classics: Illustrated

In which we take a look at some graphic updates to a few modern classics.

:: A weekend at Dal Lake

In which books are read, food is prepared and consumed, and a local lake serves as a stand-in for Kashmir.

:: Living off the land

In which your correspondent pedals through Vancouver’s East side neighborhoods, finding reasons to feel positive about the fall.

:: In review: Berger on Drawing

In which we continue to bang the drum for John Berger’s writing. Sooner or later (we hope) this will result in an offer for him to appear at the Vancouver International Writers Festival…

:: Being a Man (in the Lousy Modern World)

In which we reach out to our fellow literary lads.

:: The rebellious roar of the raging nothing

In which we celebrate the life and work of a writer described by some as ‘The World’s Worst Novelist’: Ireland’s own Amanda McKittrick Ross.

:: Judging a book

In which it is suggested that, whether they should or not, readers often do…

:: In review: Three early books by Giono

In which three of Giono’s early books are reviewed: To the Slaughterhouse (1931), The Solitude of Compassion (1932), and The Serpent of Stars (1933)

:: Squeezing summer

In which we resist the passage of time. Hopeless, but fervent to the last.

:: The powerful poetry of school

In which we consider the books of summer and their counterparts: the often dreary books of school.

:: Read it... Pick it up again. Gaze into it. Be startled.

In which we get a glimpse into the future of book marketing.

:: Collective praise

In which we sing the praises of the VIWF’s BNC.

:: One of the most useful devices

In which we extoll the virtues of the modest semicolon.

:: Grammy

In which we mourn the passing — and celebrate the life — of my much-loved grandmother Eleanor Timberlake, both Eleanor Ruth Norton in Leete’s Island, Connecticut more than a century ago.

:: Wordy Harry

In which we find dramatic, startling, stirring, iron-clad, and persuasive evidence that second best is somtimes the best.

:: Better the delivery boy than a book

In which we note with approval the selective diet of a dog we never met.

:: The quilt theory of literature

In which we are swayed by a new theory of literature, one which sends us rummaging through our scrap-heap.

:: Places I'd rather be: On a journey through Italy

In which we wander through the pages of four different travel books which will have to serve - for now - as a temporary substitute for the real thing.

:: Lord Byron for Jenny Craig

In which we share the secrets of a stunning new diet for the Romantic in you. Warning: it may effect your gait.

:: Deep Cove Solstice

In which we make reference to another solstice ritual involving a circle of rock (in this case there is a deep cove at the circle’s centre…)

:: Groucho and Tom

In which two old men talk “of weather, and cats, and good cigars” over a vintage port…

:: The ideal writer

In which we learn that all it takes is two clear-cut characters and a single sentence. Oh: and five pads of writing paper…

:: Resurrection

In which we command The Dead to rise (in an affordable region 1 version please)

:: The male reader

In which we consider the innate differences between male and female readers, the results of scientific study and therefor irrefutable.

:: Tyee Books

In which the editorial collective applauds the launch of a new forum for “sophisticated discourse about books” which promises (cross its heart) to be “strongly anchored by British Columbian writers telling and discussing our stories.”

:: That's just great

In which we refrain from commenting on how greatly greatness has diminished since the great old days…

:: Beach blanket browsing

In which we note that the advancing seasons are presaged, not by subtle shifts in foliage colour, but by the changing selection of magazines on offer at our local news agent.

:: Litter-ature

In which we discover that Jane Austen’s work is still Persuasive, 188 years after publication.

:: Solvitur ambulando

In which we sift through a pair of recent interviews with Patrick Leigh Fermor in search of clues, and hope.

:: Hot off the podium

In which we gain a renewed appreciation for real journalists, as we try to be the first to bring breaking news to our eager readers.

:: Skimming Sam

In which the editorial collective experiences an epiphany: why read when you can skim? Evidently it’s the latest rage…

:: Safe in Heaven, dead

In which the latest batch of Beat books is reviewed.

:: Lessons in Italianism

In which a minor character steals a scene without uttering a single word of dialogue.

:: Tools of a writer: the gel of chosenness

In which the author entertains high hopes for a miracle substance which seems to have helped Flaubert.

:: The evolution of a writer: Part 2

In which the author admits to some trepidation as he prepares for his first instruction in the writerly arts.

:: The evolution of a writer: Part 1

In which the author takes a ‘tough love’ position with his writing: no longer will it be allowed to grow fat and lazy on the author’s dime.

:: The breaking point

In which a selection of recently acquired books are described

:: Empire of the senses

In which a brief holiday begins…

:: Even Furthur

In which a rusty bus gets hauled out of an Oregon swamp and rejuvenated, in an attempt to create a psychedelic time machine. “All aboard…”

:: The Compleat Collector

In which we consider the metaphysics of collecting, asking such key questions as “Can one apply the concept of NP-completeness to a collection of Hardy Boys books?”

:: A culinary tour of the big box retailers of north Richmond

In which our two protagonists discover that there are many different kinds of consumption.

:: Newfoundland calling

In which the Government of Newfoundland and Labrador experiments with subliminal means to increase tourism

:: Out of the Frey-ing pan

In which members of the texts&pretexts editorial collective, always in search of the moral high ground, consider abandoning the once-trendy world of web log publishing for an alternate career path…

:: Places I'd rather be: the south of France

In which the editorial collective passes a hat around the office, hoping to raise funds for a winter trip to France (although with what we’ve raised to date it looks like the south bank of the Fraser might be more realistic…)

:: Noah: eat your heart out

In which we come very close to being part of weather history.

:: Blossoms

In which the editorial collective attempts to distill its thoughts down to the mystic combination of five, seven, and five.

:: What the bleep!?

In which we consider altering our everyday reality, before deciding that there are still things that need tending to on this plane: books to read, blog entries to write, that kind of thing…

:: The requirements of a modern princess

In which we are witness to an object lesson in regal bearing.

:: Galiano taxi ride

In which a fog bank allows us to temporarily detach ourselves from time and space.

:: A Barbaric Christmas

In which we make your Christmas shopping easier by suggesting a couple of books from Barbarian Press. The only remaining difficulty? You’ll want to keep these for yourself…

:: In Review: Time Was Soft There

In which, thanks to a new book from Jeremy Mercer, we take a trip through time and space to Paris, and the unforgettable, irreplaceable ‘Tumbleweed Hotel.’

:: Brick 76

In which we offer a miscellany of literary temptations

:: A book is like a pot of tea

In which we pull a good book down from the shelf, put the kettle on to boil, and root about for the Darjeeling

:: Fog

In which that which was once solid remains obscured for days on end, and you begin to lose your bearings.

:: Reading for a living

In which the editorial collective gets a glimpse into a Readers’ Paradise, only to discover that all is not as imagined…

:: Two Vancouver readings

In which we help (both of) our loyal readers to fill their social calendar

:: On being William H. Gass

In which we give a brief appreciation for a writer who has the humility to recognize that he might not be a fully-realized person (although this is arguably self-evident, given his admission elsewhere that “I write because I hate. A lot. Hard.”)

:: The glitterati go Giller

In which we venture, mole-like, from the safety of the library, and step into the glare of the television lights. Why should legitimate TV critics have all the fun?

:: The tourist map of literature

In which we set out as literary tourists, map in hand: always searching for a satisfying book to read.

:: Our specialty: the sun

In which the t&p editorial collective is astonished to learn that some now deem us to be experts on the sun (and sundry other topics).

:: John Fowles

In which we pay tribute to a writer whose book The Magus was once one of our favorite texts

:: Adopt-a-Word

In which the editorial collective considers a potential texts&pretexts revenue stream…

:: A sort of ecstasy

In which E. B. White shares his thoughts on the future of reading (circa 1954). In bringing this passage to the attention of (both) our loyal readers, the editorial collective feels somewhat awkward: we’re not quite certain how an impregnator is expected to behave when found in the company of a respondent. Emily Post never addressed this particular scenario, so forgive us if we puff furiously on our opium pipe while attempting to get our social bearings.

:: Places I'd rather be: Paris

In which we launch our series of armchair travelogues, beginning with a small section of books featuring the city we consider ‘most likely to succeed.’

:: The sharing of Graeme Gibson, continued

In which we give a brief update on our campaign to liberate Graeme Gibson from Margaret Atwood’s iron grip.

:: On being Bookered

In which we discover a kinship with John Banville…

:: Not that I've anything against chimpanzees

In which we share a healthy breakfast - fresh fruit, juice - with the latest literary Nobel laureate

:: Revelation and epiphany

In which we bolster our case that Ms. Moore should the next Mrs. Graeme Gibson; once Ms. Atwood has been convinced that it’s only fair for someone else to have a turn…

:: The proper thing

In which we pose an abstract philosophical question about authors and their work, mull it over for a paragraph or twelve, and come to an inclusive conclusion. Oh: we also decide that we should be boycotting Margaret Atwood (because somebody has to do the proper thing…)

:: Something to Howl about

In which we raise a glass to a landmark poem, first performed in public fifty years ago this month.

:: Spider season

In which we blow the cobwebs from our brain long enough to consider spiders for a paragraph or twelve…

:: Portrait of a Bookstore as an Old Man

In which we are offered yet another excuse to relive an episode from our chequered (and receding) past…

:: Things of tender memory and proud possession

In which the editorial collective make a Herculean effort to resume a more frequent posting schedule, offering our eager readership this list of lists selected from one of Evelyn Waugh’s novels

:: The turning of the tide

In which we present evidence that vast changes are afoot everywhere around us, and what can we really do about it, anyway, except buckle ourselves to the planet and enjoy the ride?

:: Lightning bugs

In which the search for lightning bugs is foiled this time, but continues with undiminished hope.

:: Hiatus

In which the editorial collective bids you all a temporary farewell as we head east in search of some fireflies to read by…

:: The rule of nine (or ten)

In which we make a rather vague mathematical generalization about Canada-US relationships, which leads inevitably to a completely unsupported conclusion…

:: Wisdom

In which the author gazes owlishly into the mirror, trying to cobble together a new self-image which would allow him to feel young at heart despite mounting evidence to the contrary.

:: In character

In which we offer an exciting opportunity to you, our readers: pay big bucks and we will drop casual references to you into upcoming articles. Tempting, isn’t it?

:: Spartacus redux

In which we offer a suggestion for those burdened with an excess of “anarcho books, working peoples’ books, anti-racism books, anti-cop and anti-prison books, socialisty books”…

:: Vancouver independents (spelled 'E-N-C-E')

In which we gather and annotate a selection of Vancouver’s independent booksellers.

:: There's a word for that

In which the evolution of the English language is considered, and we wonder whether we might soon run out of brand new words (another sign of the impending Apocalypse?)

:: Letter integrity issues

In which we rail against the market forces which have send teams of crazed cereal scientists in search of an improved version of Alpha-Bits, an effort which threatens the future of literature.

:: Morning swim, Deep Cove

In which a morning dip brings thoughts of birth, baptism, and even death: the raft to which you swim appearing to have Charon waiting patiently on board…

:: Book 'em

In which it is revealed that the dank and seedy underworld of book groups has more in common with organized crime than had previously been suspected.

:: On being Dean

In which we consider the inherent difficulties in making movies out of books, and decide that, on balance, we would rather read…

:: In review: Kenneth White

In which we talk a bit about one of our favorite geopoeticians…

:: The round comfort of the egg

In which we discover that we can listen to a story with more of our senses than just the sense of sound.

:: In review: here is where we meet

In which we savour a new book from John Berger, reading it slowly so that it lasts a bit longer…

:: To Grub or not to Grub?

In which we give a brief rationale for our decision to give our writing away via these postings, ignoring the countless offers for paid publication which have come our way…

:: What The Bears Will Say

In which we speculate on what will be remembered of two fine poets (and friends) when all that can be said has been said, and all that can be done is done…

:: The Deadly Sins: Gluttony

In which the editorial collective drools while contemplating a growing stack of summer reading, and decides that it might be time to put on a muscle-T and Spandex cycle shorts; and time to think in terms of ‘reps’ and ‘delts’ and ‘abs’…

:: New poem from Sappho

In which we offer our loyal readers a new poem from Sappho; as well as some advice to all those with scores of still-unpublished poems: throw nothing away! It is not impossible that, centuries from now, your literary biographers will be going through every carefully-archived scrap of paper, with publishers vying with each other for the opportunity to publish deluxe limited editions of each poem in all its variants.

:: The Deadly Sins: Sloth

In which we languidly endorse The Sloth Plan, and consider going into intensive hammock-training-mode in the hopes of making a good living on the professional sloth circuit.

:: A bit of Brick on the wall

In which we make our bid for getting our names added to Brick’s no-doubt generous payroll, offering up our second plug this month…

:: Tag

In which we embark upon a brief expedition to the farther reaches of our book shelves, with dusting cloth and notebook in hand…

:: In review: Plan B

In which we ponder some of the deeper issues as seen through the eyes of American writer Anne Lamott.

:: Oh to be in Bulgaria on Bloomsday

In which we consider the appeal of a jet-set literary life, flying from one world-class city to another in search of bookish adventures. We hesitate, however, since this is evidently a high-risk lifestyle, where one is constantly at risk of paper cuts.

:: How not to write

In which we present an example of a paragraph that got away, evidence (we hope) that we are on the verge of a long-overdue reform…

:: An Immodest Proposal

In which we decide to revisit the t&p budget, trying to squeeze an extra $195 out of it somehow. Let’s see: we could switch to pencils with harder lead; use single-ply tissues; cut down on our cappuccino intake…

:: Rewarding poetry

In which we begin to waver from our idealism as we come to the abrupt realization that we know of not one baker and no florists who will part with their products in exchange for a handmade ring…

:: In review: Campo Santo

In which we speculate on the shape of a career, and the proliferation of kinds towards unknown ends; at the same time performing the Sisyphusian task of shifting one solitary book from the ‘to read’ stack into the ‘to be reread’ pile.

:: Wuxtry! Wuxtry! Literary Award Winner Sighted On Sidewalk!

In which we do our best to keep you up to date on the latest literary gossip.

:: A footnote to Greed

In which the author reconsiders the position that he rashly took on Greed. Fundamentally a coward, it was the prospect of his bowels becoming ‘a red-hot mass of burning pulp’ which prompted this change of heart.

:: The Deadly Sins: Greed

In which the author boldly admits to having embraced one of the Deadly Sins, and makes a somewhat feeble attempt to justify this weakness…

:: More notes from Mr. Wm. Carlos Williams, houseguest

In which we are proud to claim a first: the world premiere of previously undiscovered work from the always-hungry bard of Rutherford, New Jersey

:: An evening in the RAW

In which the author goes in search of ‘Writers Who Delve in Both Poetry and Prose’, since delving writers are scarce nowadays, and the t&p editorial collective has always intended to take delving lessons one day…

:: A more contemporary method of wasting time

In which, in response to another wave of existential despair (‘How will we ever be able to put enough money aside to retire to the south of France?’) we hit upon a sure-fire money-maker: a Novel Farm. Franchises soon to be available…

:: In review: Breaking the Rule of Cool

In which we ask: is an enthusiastic book review not proof of an addictive personality? The reviewer hoping to drag others to his own level of neediness by stimulating a craving for yet another book…

:: I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as...

In which trees are appreciated, and a rather banal metaphor of ‘consumption’ is pursued to (and beyond) its natural limit.

:: People treasure the fluffy toys

In which the editorial collective, feeling the need to take immediate action in the increasingly competitive world of belles-lettres, considers how best to reward our faithful readers…

:: The Deadly Sins: Pride

In which, courtesy of our travel agent, we journey further from the straight and narrow path. At least he’s booked us into view rooms with a stunning prospect overlooking the Slough of Despond.

:: Unfeeling poetry

In which the author ignores yet another misguided attempt to cramp his style.

:: Professional Day: Shelley Hrdlitschka

In which we venture deep into uncharted territory on another anthropological expedition, trying to get a clearer picture of the haunts and habits of that rare creature: the professional writer.

:: Until this second

In which the author fulfills his end of a bargain that he’d made foolishly during a recent lunch…

:: The party's over

In which the editorial collective sadly begins to accept the fact that the golden years of ‘blogging’ are now over. Time to cash in those t&p stock options and retire to the south of France…

:: Glorious Apollo

In which the author’s eye is distracted by a bright, shiny object in the morning sky. As a result he is moved to reminisce (in this obscure footnote at least) of the perpetually grand Mr. Richard Swiveller, and to marvel at how much more Donne had done with a similar Sol-sighting centuries ago.

:: On encomiums

In which the editorial collective attempts to pour oil on troubled waters, prompted by an unexpected flare-up of stringer discontent.

:: On literary armaments

In which we consider new additions to the t&p line of merchandise (it’s all about branding nowadays…)

:: Collective meets Co-op

In which the editorial collective encounters a slightly different hydra-headed outfit, all of whose heads are currently employed in the reading of contemporary fiction.

:: Aphorism

In which we make our play for literary immortality. Acting on the theory that, since we can’t take them with us, we may as well leave a few bons mots behind.

:: The Deadly Sins: Envy

In which we add another sin to a growing list. We begin to fear that, if we continue with this soul-searching, we will discover that we are not as virtuous as our parents have been led to believe…

:: The Deadly Sins: Lust

In which the author learns just what he missed by not having read the works of Charlotte Brontë. A shame, since ‘the thwarted lust of a parson’s daughter’ has been a recurring theme in many of his fantasies.

:: To the writing life: a reading

In which the author describes a recent reading he attended in Vancouver, and muses (briefly) upon the brevity of life.

:: Spring revolution

In which we take up arms to take part in an annual revolution, joining forces with most of mankind in an attempt to beat the clock.

:: Lawrence of Suburbia

In which we poke our nose into the correspondence of others: a letter purportedly written by the famed Lawence (of Arabian fame) as he contemplates spending his declining years on Canada’s West Coast.

:: Thibboleth

In which thomeone finally thtandth up against the Gileadites…

:: From an early draft of “Death of a Travelling Salesman”

In which we excavate a fragment from an early draft of Eudora Welty’s first short story, and watch tensely which she struggles to maneuver her character across the page.

:: A wonderful, willful place

In which we consider the implications of the Free Will Theorem, which proposes that even elementary particles possess free will…

:: Dress rehearsal

In which we watch from the cheap seats while a seasonal drama is acted out in every neighborhood…

:: Epiphanitis

In which the author decides to take an emotional stand, speaking out polemically in favour of a contagious disease…

:: The Writer’s Chapbook

In which the editorial collective at t&p tries to throw its weight around, attempting to rouse the rabble (also known as “our loyal readers”) to rise and storm the bastions at Random House…

:: How to cheer up a tree

In which we celebrate the rich pagent that is street life in downtown Vancouver, as the author introduces us to someone from his work-week neighborhood, and notes that there is more than one way to deal with a depressive tree.

:: Time machine

In which a marvellous new invention is unveiled: a machine which will enable any of us to take a trip back in time. As an added bonus this invention is remarkably inexpensive to operate, being fueled by the most widely available and renewable of fuels: words.

:: Walking with Gerard

In which we discover that we are all amalgams, compounded from fragments and phrases that have attached themselves to us over the years…

:: Reading the seasons

In which we contemplate Patrick Lane’s new book There Is A Season, and wistfully consider (without saying so directly) all the new books that Jack Kerouac did not live to write…

:: Writers at Work

In which the author recalls the liberating moment when he discovered that writing was something which one worked at until it worked: that there were no rules…

:: An Improbable interview

In which we depart from our usual introspection, noodling away with nouns and commas to no apparent purpose, and take a more realistic look into the business of getting published.

:: Perhaps the 'B' stood for 'Blogger'?

In which we pay homage to a writer who, when seen in a certain light, and with a strong Manhattan behind the belt, could be said to have been one of our blogging forefathers…

:: 'She put a comma there, and waited...'

In which we learn the importance of not jumping too quickly to a conclusion…

:: The great migration

In which the whole, huge enterprise that is texts & pretexts takes to the road. Mahouts goad the elephants into line; the porters sweat and struggle with the steamer trunks: all is in flux once more…

:: Glissade

In which your correspondent senses that there might still be an inner child trapped within his too-sober self…

:: Solstice

In which we decide to take matters into our own hands and see if we can get this “season” thing turned around…

:: The final voyage

In which our resident reader, with some last words in hand, procrastinates, not wanting a certain roman fleuve to end

:: Relativity

In which the author describes how he once had the secret to eternal youth within his grasp, and let it slip away…

:: Flame: a reverie

In which an old fire is rekindled, and an August night from long ago comes back to say hello.

:: In praise of panettone

In which we willingly succumb to the temptations of another baking season.

:: Time & tide

In which we find evidence of life’s cycle rolling effortlessly along…

:: Hiatus

In which the auther takes his leave for a while, accompanied by a stack of books and a bicycle…

:: 3 days = 1 novel

In which we urge all our readers to transform themselves, phoenix-like, into novelists. All it takes is a mere 3 days!

:: Unbidden Thoughts: a trilogy

In which the ether sends us messages which are, perhaps, critical clues as to the nature of the universe and the interdependence of all species.

:: In review: Akashic Books

In which we cast our eyes over the offerings of a particularly industrious small press…

:: Load your magazines

In which the author takes the first step in his 12-step program, and admits publicly to an addiction

:: In Bloom

In which the author attends a local Bloomsday reading, and spots a dapper James Joyce flogging a “Linux and Fedora” training manual

:: Parse

In which the author encounters Edith Wharton for the first time. And gets lost within one labyrinthine sentence.

:: St. Margaret's Cemetery

In which the author spends time communing with some quiet companions

:: Requiem for an apostrophe

In which the author wistfully recalls a long-lost apostrophe of which he was particularly fond

:: 15 minutes and counting

In which the author experiences a dizzying moment at the centre of a storm of media publicity, and lives to tell the tale…

:: Boffo

In which Homer doffs his Ray-Bans for a moment to offer us some pithy observations from poolside at the Chateau Marmont

:: The mortality of mothers. And others.

In which the author contemplates the swift passage of sweet life, and Mothers’ Day to come, and is prematurely mournful.

:: Laureate de-Greeced

In which the texts & pretexts editorial collective mopes and scuffs disconsolately around the office, dreaming of Attic antics that might have been

:: News flash: Poetry Awards Presented!

In which poetry is found to pay, and the author (briefly) contemplates giving up his day job to live off limericks

:: He blesses, they score!

In which we wonder if His Holiness the Dalai Lama can be persuaded to drop the puck at tonight’s game: the Canucks battling (compassionately) against the Calgary Flames…

:: Osborniana

In which we dish out some well-deserved (and somewhat delayed) congratulations.

:: Reading between the lines

In which the author reads between the lines in an attempt to reconstruct another reader’s battle with a book

:: Sapsucker

In which the author once again finds himself on the losing side in a battle with the implacable forces of nature

:: Viral style

In which the author discovers that certain elements of style can reach beyond the grave…

:: Gnocci

In which we propose a possible connection between carbs and comedy

:: Floral revolt

In which the author detects early signs of a generalized plant uprising, and considers barricading himself inside his yard in self-defence.

:: Crayola

In which we consider the many ways to add colour to a day, not worrying about staying within the lines.

:: Libraries and order

In which the author does battle with the dark forces of disorder at his public llibrary, and eventually triumphs

:: Synesthesia

In which the ear picks out one note from the rainbow

:: Forced bulbs

In which we attempt to outstrip the pace of nature, and create a kind of spring ahead of season.

:: Love apples

In which “love” and “giving” are found to be at the very heart of Valentine’s Day. And “chocolate” is discovered to be another suitable synonym.

:: On tentativity

In which the author presents his definitive treatise on the Canadian tendency to tentativity

:: Verbify! A call to arms

In which the author quite shamelessly attempts to incite a grammatical revolution amongst the rank and file

:: A variation on whiskey

In which we offer up a few literary drams in honor of Scotland’s national poet

:: The man I might have been

In which the author wistfully looks back upon an early career option that once held great appeal

:: Uplifted

In which the author describes how he slipped the surly bonds of earth and danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings. Or something…

:: A fool for reading

In which one Brick congratulates another

:: A lost career

In which we discover that many may be called, but few can manage the “killing commitment” required of a career computer programmer

:: Defunct

In which the author’s vocabulary undergoes an emergency funky-dectomy…

:: 75 years young

In which an intrepid boy reporter celebrates a landmark birthday

:: In absentia

In which the texts & pretexts production line gets out of line…

:: The middens of Christmas

In which the annual Christmas stocking is restock(ing)ed with another dose of stuff…

:: Alicja Lesniak has regrets

In which a fictional character reflects (uncharacteristically) upon her origins, and considers the kind of personage she might have been…

:: The Vinyl Café: deconstructed

In which we pull the curtain back to reveal the Great Oz in all his mortal glory

:: Zen porridge

In which it is discovered that oatmeal enlightenment can not be sought, it must be bestowed

:: Black: Angus

In which we note a startling family resemblance

:: Shrine

In which we pay our respects at a small outpost of sorrow on the grounds of Sir Charles Tupper Secondary School

:: Old Hob Hayward

In which the author discovers that he is descended from an ancient Hobbit line

:: Sheeba who must be obeyed

In which we discreetly draw back the veil, and enter into the inner sanctum of chez Siberry

:: There would be a yellow cab

In which a vision of a final, better place is unveiled, including appropriate transportation

:: An arid life

In which the author admits (gracefully, and off the record) that there is more to life than books

:: Impulsive translation

In which the author makes yet another tentative attempt to understand the mysteries of translation

:: Such a day

In which we watch small children gather at the water’s edge, and do what children always do with stones, with water.

:: Magpie

In which (good) fortune is found to fall, not from Heaven, but from the pockets of complete strangers

:: The Overreachers

In which a passage from forty years ago proves oddly prescient.

:: Fifty x three

In which we get a lot of change for three fifties

:: Ode: To Spring

In which the seasons are accounted for, and found to number four

:: Light-hearted

In which the very north itself appears to be heading south to spend the winter

:: The dog will die

In which the day’s mail brings bills, and bank statements, and real-estate flyers… And a new story written just for me.

:: Oryx and Crack

In which we witness the appalling depths to which the creative mind can descend in the constant search for Stimulation and Experience.

:: The idea

In which a good idea goes on the lam

:: Someone To Watch Over Me

In which Ella Fitzgerald carries us off on a lyrical journey, from the G below middle C to the A an octave and one note above it…

:: Fighting with Fall

In which the author wages war against an implacable foe. A chilling account…

:: re: Birth

In which Ted Joans is spotted on the sidewalk through a window, much refreshed from his time among the shades.

:: Masonry

In which we observe how (good) writing can act as a coded call to arms.

:: A Tomato Trilogy

In which we offer a trio of tasty, bite-sized tales, to prove that your summer reading options are not limited to Tom Clancy and John Grisham

:: Love apples

In which we store up one more summer sense memory to accompany us on that long, cold journey into winter

:: Omnipresent

In which we begin to realize that by being here, we can be everywhere at once

:: Blackberries

In which we are tempted by a sweet summer fling…

:: August ambrosia

In which we extoll the many virtues of a humble cob of corn

:: Almost Corsica

In which the the heat of a Vancouver summer opens up a conduit to the past

:: Water park

In which water is reaffirmed as an essential ingredient to (a child’s) life.

:: (In)conspicuous consumption

In which the author strives - without much success - to ignite an all-consuming passion.

:: Socks change operation

In which the author is invigorated by the possibilities of change - and then decides he’d rather not

:: Widgeon II

In which the author makes a pilgrimage into the wilderness. Reveries ensue.

:: Mariner

In which a chance encounter brings the author into contact with a character from Coleridge, shipwrecked on the harsh Vancouver streets

:: Mystery Butter

In which a small jar of Mystery Butter begins its methodical march to world domination.

:: Say yes...

In which we find yet another ready-made excuse to be in Paris

:: Earwitnessed

In which words are weighed and books are imbibed

:: Wi the haill voice

In which (riding side-saddle) we ponder the impossibility of true communication

:: Ephemerae

In which several small things are noticed in passing

:: Almost Eden

In which the darling buds of May are gathered by the handful

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