National Network for Equitable Library Service

Nicole Brossard's lucid, subversive and innovative work on language has influenced an entire generation of readers and writers.

First published in 1985, when Daniel Jones was just 26, The Brave Never Write Poetry, the poet/critic/novelist's lone collection of poems, was a cult hit, turning 'poetry' on its head before its au

A body is found on the side of a highway. Naked, throat slashed, no identification.

Nominated for a Commonwealth Writers Prize (Canada and Caribbean region), a Toronto Book Award and a Books in Canada/Amazon.ca First Novel Award. March 6, 1934.

Winner of the 2010 A. M. Klein Poetry Prize Shortlisted for the 2010 Griffin Poetry Prize Descartes asked, How can I know that I am not now dreaming?

Night is falling, and so is the snow.

Robert James, a private detective more interested in chronicling his cases than solving them, gets a midnight call from a young woman whose older husband has been found with a knife in his chest.

On the afternoon that two tonnes of explosives are set to dismember Toronto's Metropolitan Library, poet Henry Black hides himself away in his favourite wing; when his mangled body is uncovered, th

Shortlisted for the 2010 Trillium Book Award for Poetry To be human is to cope with knowing.

The Lacuna Cabal Montreal Young Women’s Book Club is not content simply to read and discuss books. Their process is a little more involved.

Jay used to have an ego, but had it surgically removed. Get bur'd by Alex Cayce; Perfectly Ordinary Dreams by James Llar; Short Ghosts by John Elliott; heartrants by H.

Winner of the Audre Lorde Award for Lesbian Poetry A finalist for the Dorothy Livesay Prize and the Lambda Literary Award In her ambitious follow-up to Hagiography, acclaimed poet Jen Currin contin

It all started with a black rose and a rich young man. And a house with a creek running through it.

Longlisted for the IMPAC Dublin Literary Award Shortlisted for the Amazon.ca/Books in Canada First Novel Award The kid sells lemonade.

The lease is meaningless: a square paced first by seismic workers, and then your father, and then by every other man you know.