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Ken Wilson
Goodreads Author
Born
in Brantford, Ontario, Canada
Website
Genre
Influences
Robert Macfarlane, Ariel Gordon, Iain Sinclair, Tanis MacDonald, Willi
...more
Member Since
May 2012
URL
https://www.goodreads.com/kenwilsonwriter
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Walking the Bypass
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* Note: these are all the books on Goodreads for this author. To add more, click here.
Ken’s Recent Updates
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Ken Wilson
is now friends with
John Oughton
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Ken Wilson
wants to read
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Ken Wilson
made a comment on
Cat Abenstein’s review
of
You Might Be Sorry You Read This (Robert Kroetsch Series)
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I blogged about this one—it’s so good, so necessary!
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Ken Wilson
liked
Cat Abenstein's review
of
You Might Be Sorry You Read This (Robert Kroetsch Series):
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Ken Wilson
rated a book it was amazing
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| I haven’t managed to finish a novel in months. I start one, get overwhelmed by work and put it down, then forget what was happening. It’s frustrating. But I finished Melanie Schnell’s The Chorus Beneath Our Feet. It held my attention even with the Ja ...more | |
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The mix of magic and realism, history and fantasy, trauma and sleuthing, really grabbed my attention!
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Ken Wilson
rated a book it was amazing
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| I started reading Victoria Hetherington’s The Friend Machine: On the Trail of AI Companionship, the day I heard about the chatbot Grok, installed in an Ontario woman’s Tesla, asking a child to send it nudes. Since the public debut of ChatGPT in Novem ...more | |
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Ken Wilson
rated a book it was amazing
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Ken Wilson
rated a book it was amazing
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| I haven’t managed to finish a novel in months. I start one, get overwhelmed by work and put it down, then forget what was happening. It’s frustrating. But I finished Melanie Schnell’s The Chorus Beneath Our Feet. It held my attention even with the Ja ...more | |
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Ken Wilson
has read
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“Kathleen takes my picture. She emails it to me later. I look ridiculous with the orange Buff pulled up over my head. We say goodbye and I continue walking past fields of swathed canola. Houses stand beyond them. I’m walking the interface between the country and the city: a shallow space, with fields butting up against houses, industry and agriculture commingled. The stubble is a rusty colour. Crispy blue J Cloth towels, scraps of sky, are caught in the roadside weeds.”
― Walking the Bypass: Notes on Place From the Side of the Road
― Walking the Bypass: Notes on Place From the Side of the Road
“I walk back across the overpass. A police car speeds by, lights flashing and siren wailing. A flock of red-winged blackbirds is singing in an overgrown dugout. There are so many of them; every slough and dugout has its own population. I surprise a pair of ducks, which splash into the air. I cross the Canadian Pacific Railway tracks. A Towmotor grumbles in the yard at Brandt Industries. I pick up a quartz crystal from the shoulder—discarded, perhaps, because its curative powers were exaggerated. An abandoned shoe lies next to the road. A plastic bag in a dry slough moves in the wind like a wounded bird.”
― Walking the Bypass: Notes on Place From the Side of the Road
― Walking the Bypass: Notes on Place From the Side of the Road
“Everything I can see from the shoulder of this highway—all the land, stretching far beyond the horizon in every direction—was the exclusive territory of Indigenous Peoples before settlers arrived and claimed ownership. What gives me—or any other settler—the right to be here? Is there any ethical basis for my presence here on Treaty 4 land? Or am I here only because of colonialist arguments like terra nullius, the doctrine of occupation, and the doctrine of discovery?”
― Walking the Bypass: Notes on Place From the Side of the Road
― Walking the Bypass: Notes on Place From the Side of the Road
“I walk back across the overpass. A police car speeds by, lights flashing and siren wailing. A flock of red-winged blackbirds is singing in an overgrown dugout. There are so many of them; every slough and dugout has its own population. I surprise a pair of ducks, which splash into the air. I cross the Canadian Pacific Railway tracks. A Towmotor grumbles in the yard at Brandt Industries. I pick up a quartz crystal from the shoulder—discarded, perhaps, because its curative powers were exaggerated. An abandoned shoe lies next to the road. A plastic bag in a dry slough moves in the wind like a wounded bird.”
― Walking the Bypass: Notes on Place From the Side of the Road
― Walking the Bypass: Notes on Place From the Side of the Road
“Kathleen takes my picture. She emails it to me later. I look ridiculous with the orange Buff pulled up over my head. We say goodbye and I continue walking past fields of swathed canola. Houses stand beyond them. I’m walking the interface between the country and the city: a shallow space, with fields butting up against houses, industry and agriculture commingled. The stubble is a rusty colour. Crispy blue J Cloth towels, scraps of sky, are caught in the roadside weeds.”
― Walking the Bypass: Notes on Place From the Side of the Road
― Walking the Bypass: Notes on Place From the Side of the Road
“Everything I can see from the shoulder of this highway—all the land, stretching far beyond the horizon in every direction—was the exclusive territory of Indigenous Peoples before settlers arrived and claimed ownership. What gives me—or any other settler—the right to be here? Is there any ethical basis for my presence here on Treaty 4 land? Or am I here only because of colonialist arguments like terra nullius, the doctrine of occupation, and the doctrine of discovery?”
― Walking the Bypass: Notes on Place From the Side of the Road
― Walking the Bypass: Notes on Place From the Side of the Road
