A Temporary Grace

by Maggie Burton

220 pages, Paperback

Published May 5, 2026

Reviews

[Susan White]

Maggie Burton, in her first collection of fiction, has plucked her characters from the streets of St. John's and given readers a glimpse into their secret, turbulent, desperate and lonely lives. From "the horrible intersection ... where crosswalks are like planks offered off the sides of ships, so long and dangerous that it seems like you'll never get to the other side" (16) to Katie ("Hell Together"), who "learned about lust from a child's illustrated guide to the seven deadly sins," (54) the locations and characters in A Temporary Grace are both familiar and strange, the stories simultaneously lived-in and disconnected. Each feels like an interlude, like the sense you get of a person from overhearing their conversation in a coffee shop.

Burton's characters are largely unlikeable and morally ambiguous, from the neurotic and controlling Sheryl of the opening story, "Location Sharing," to the obtuse and detestable Steve ("A Dog for Jennifer," "Lucille Goes to Paris" and "On Moss Heather"), a self-styled coach of some sort whose girlfriends accept his violent sexual preferences as the price of his financial security, to Rhonda ("Flood"), who attempts to use a politically advantageous affair to get ahead at work. Running throughout the text is Burton's nuanced exploration of relationships, self and control - whether it's sought, exerted or reclaimed - and the resulting stories are as surprising as they are riveting.

With her starkly observational prose ("Geraldine looks dehydrated. Her face is hard around the top, like a stale muffin." (63)), Burton invites readers in to sit at the kitchen table and listen as she shares these characters' darkest secrets and greatest delusions.

Disclaimer: I received an advanced PDF copy of this book from the author. This has not influenced my review.

[Sophie Whitehead]

short stories pack a punch! Loved the setting

[Gill]

4.5/5 - Short stories are perhaps one of the most challenging literary forms. Unlike their longer and shorter counterparts (the novel and the poem) there is far less time available for character and plot development, and far more space than a few well-constructed metaphors can comfortably carry. The author must satisfy the reader not with a traditional beginning, middle, and end, but by starting somewhere smack in the middle and trusting us to find our footing.

Burton’s first collection of short stories is set in and around the Avalon Peninsula of Newfoundland and Labrador (although familiarity with the setting is by no means required to enjoy what the backdrop offers). As a resident of the area, it’s a welcome bonus that cultural and historical landmarks add another layer of familiarity to people and themes that are, at times, painfully recognizable.

The characters are introduced beautifully “in the middle” of what seem to be ordinary - and sometimes less-than-ordinary - passages of life: first dates, breakups, affairs, friendships, and that first trip with a new partner. Through these moments, Burton finds ways to examine big themes like sexuality, power, loneliness, consent, obligation, and resentment in both subtle and profound ways. The reader is given a voyeuristic seat to the inner workings of her characters as they navigate their relationships with themselves and others, constrained by the realities of their own circumstances.

Burton’s collection has something for anyone who is, or has ever been, a breathing human in their twenties or thirties. Settling. Suffocation. Complicated family relationships. Unexpected attraction. Heartbreak. And, perhaps most devastatingly, violations of trust.

While the stories lean heavily into examining the ways women are vulnerable in society, Burton is careful to weave in perspectives that complicate any simplistic reading. Not a performative “not all men,” but some painful reminders that, yes, sometimes women, too. It serves as a useful distinction between the systemic and the personal. At a structural level, women often find themselves in more difficult and imbalanced situations, whether those battles are playing out internally or externally. At a personal level, however, women can also be deeply flawed. The difference, perhaps, is that those flaws tend to be easier to escape than the systems that shape them.

Burton’s use of recurring characters, viewed from differing vantage points, adds another layer of depth. These connections are not strung neatly throughout the collection, but appear just often enough to tie together loose threads. The obvious effect is a familiar literary lesson: there are always multiple sides to a story. The less obvious effect is that Burton softens one of the inherent constraints of the short story form itself. By allowing us to revisit certain people and situations, she creates opportunities for context, complexity, and closure that might otherwise be impossible within the confines of a single story.

At times uncomfortable and confronting, the stories, while each unique in their own right, share a common pulse: we often sit either far too long or not nearly long enough with the painful realities of seeking love, being loved, or having love taken away. And all of those experiences are more difficult for some than for others.

Burton examines the ways people can be selfish and cruel, strange and exciting, suffocating and unmanageable. And that goes for all of us.

Her work demonstrates that allies can be found at unexpected tables, and enemies can be found in all the usual places. Either way, Burton’s collection functions as both critique and aspiration, exploring the ways we take one another for granted, the reasons we stay, and the reasons we leave. Often those decisions are not entirely our own, but are shaped by the simple yet complex realities of identity, circumstance, timing, and power.

Depending on where you’re reading this from, both literally and figuratively, these stories may produce discomfort, frustration, belonging, longing, surprise, or perhaps even recognition. The short story often does something the novel cannot: it refuses to provide a traditional ending. Instead, it opens a wound, a world, or a question that follows you long after the final page.

And the best endings either catch you by surprise or reveal something you already knew to be true. Burton moves between those two mechanisms with ease. By the end of the collection, her characters begin to live beyond the page. You board a flight, walk past a downtown apartment, or drive by a shopping mall and find yourself wondering what stories are unfolding around you, and what short stories live within all of us.

An insightful debut, Temporary Grace marks a successful transition from poet to short story writer. Throughout the collection, Burton demonstrates a remarkable capacity to meet people where they are, examining their flaws and circumstances with equal measures of curiosity and compassion, while never shying away from the lingering question of whether people can truly change, or whether we simply hope they can. I look forward to seeing the continued evolution of Burton’s voice and prose and hope she continues to write and explore her style in longer form.

[Christopher McGee]

Maggie Burton, best known for the poetry collection Chores, presents her first book of stories, A Temporary Grace. In direct, lucid prose, the stories focus on romance or the lack thereof among maladjusted people in contemporary Newfoundland. Burton’s characters are desperate for connection but struggle with their worst impulses, chafe against societal convention, and make expedient but dangerous compromises.

While an assortment of toxic behavior is depicted (in varieties both masculine and feminine), coming in for particularly sharp skewering is the performatively progressive, narcissistic male sexual predator. Burton’s knack for psychological specificity makes these characters not just archetypes, but real people with the very human quality of being both ridiculous and frightening.

With acute observational detail, mordant irony, and largehearted sympathy, Burton conveys the sense of a shared emotional landscape that’s generally bleak but dotted with possibilities of change and real love. Funny and deeply sad, A Temporary Grace is a major contribution to the body of modern Newfoundland fiction.

[Ethan Cross]

A Temporary Grace is a sharp, unflinching collection of interconnected stories set in modern-day Newfoundland. Maggie Burton digs into the messiness of dating in the post-#MeToo era, exposing how coercive control can hide behind a veneer of "goodness" and how power imbalances persist even in relationships that present themselves as progressive or unconventional. The writing is honest to the point of discomfort, and that's clearly the intent this isn't a book offering easy answers about intimacy or liberation, but one sitting with the contradictions. Readers drawn to character-driven fiction that interrogates power, desire, and self-actualization will find a lot to chew on here.

[Jessica Richardson]

I stopped reading only to write = six stars 🤗

Location Sharing: 4.5
The Arm: 4
A Dog for Jennifer: 5
Spiders: 4
Hell Together: 4.9
Marty and the Rat: 4
Lucille Goes to Paris: 4.5
The Flood: 4.5
Systems Thinking: 4
Outside In: 4.5
Cards: 5
On Moss Heather: 4
If We Could Save Ourselves: 5
Theatre: 4.5

[Danielle]

I absolutely loved reading this! Each story was quick and easy to read, I didn't want to put the book down! An excellent job allowing the reader to get into the characters' heads and seeing how they think and reason. It perfectly portrays a wide array of unhealthy situations and relationships while highlighting real issues with mental health and dating in today's world!

[Glenna]

I had the great pleasure of sharing a book launch with Maggie in June as we both published with Breakwater Books. I got to hear her read from one of her stories and couldn't wait to see how it ended. I love the way each other stories takes an unexpected turn in this book that revolves around relationships. I'm still left with the image of the woman sitting in her car, surrounded by water.

[Claire Donnan]

yea man