a thin line between

by Wanda Praamsma

In what can be described as a verse-novel for its lyricism and rhythmic structure, Wanda Praamsma crafts a story that transcends geographic boundaries and time periods, by weaving together lives from her own family's past, including her poet-grandfather and sculptor-uncle. Subtle in its life lessons, a thin line between works at 'peeling away the I's' to explore concepts of self and family in flux. What emerges is a poignant, and at times humorous, portrait of a Dutch-Canadian family and a close look into a young woman's exploration of her own being and creative life.

Praamsma's writing draws comparisons to popular Canadian writers like Elizabeth Bachinsky, Phil Hall, and Daphne Marlatt, and will appeal to readers in their 20s and 30s who are coming to terms with issues of parenting and family, as they negotiate the spaces for their own individual lives and their creative selves.

Genres: Poetry

96 pages, Paperback

First published October 6, 2014

Reviews

[mwpm]

it wasn't intended for me to see but I did
(in the subject of an email)

the invisible mom

on a hill in a suburb in serbia
jon went back
julie followed
there were two weddings
one in serbia one in canada
two services two families two dresses
two kids
baby-girl baby-boy
they are already more advantaged than most serbian kids, says julie
they speak english and are half-canadian
and she is happy they are growing up here: the serbs cherish children
the school are good
so much emphasis on art and culture and languages
this is europe after all
but I don't want my kids to go to university here, says she
I want them to go in canada
where there is more

opp-or-tun-ity

(pause)
(pause)
(pause)
(pause)

the ripe red of an apple

julie wants to be here bu she also wants to be there

chilies firing green spice from piles on a market floor

but she knows that once she is there she'll miss here

saris singing in sapphire

and between all the here-ing and there-ing
you often have to ask
are you ever here-here?

- pg. 14-15

* * *

the road slows and the bends make driving 100 kilometres per hour impossible
so we gear up and we gear down and somtimes we pretend we are on a racetrack
except then you miss the views
the lakes with lilies
the evergreens ever green
the quiet quilt of a forest white

blue sky
green grass
red bird
how did we get so white?
how did the tree get black?
why leave me out here
to tumble
to whimper

let's go inside
where we can wander
together
in indoor sorrows

- pg. 24

* * *

above the noise of jet engines
below the rumble of trains
at level the rattle of fenders
the wizzing of scooters
the clatter of chatter

you sing
we listen
tire out legs
glide
one pedal
two pedals
home

- pg. 61

* * *

we arrive at a middle point
here
in between
it's not the same
and it is the same
covered structures walking by
this time
thinking in english
but only half the time

since
is there really only one language in all of us?

lost in tightly coiled organs
over time
here
not there
disappearing
disappearing

until
we relive that life we left

- pg. 75