What do you think?
Rate this book


194 pages, Kindle Edition
First published October 2, 2018
In Late Breaking (Littlepress, Stoney Creek), Meredith takes her first lover at the age of seventy-three. Jill originally made both characters octogenarians, but Dennis Little, who wanted them sixty-five at the oldest, compromised with seventy-three.
Joan used to bring drinks out to guests. Would she have used a tray for that? She'd never let him help, that's for sure. His job was to entertain, be all chuckly and urbane in the living room. If there was ever a crash and a whispered “Shit!” from the kitchen, he would rise and go, saying, “My lady wife hath need of me.” Then, when she hissed at him to just keep out of her way, he would re-emerge, give the company a seraphic smile, and say, “Every day a honeymoon.” – The Last Trumpet
Even her publisher had trouble getting over the idea of wrinkled bodies, greying pubic hair, two old people heaving together in mutual climax. So Jill, out of some perversity, always read the defloration scene, which she managed to make both grisly and funny. – Late Breaking
As soon as Harriet's in, the second she hears the screen door bang, she feels an arm come round her neck. – Witness
Whenever she walks past the police station on her way to the supermarket or the cleaners or the library, she slows her steps, sometimes coming to a full stop. An onlooker might think she was momentarily confused, even lost. But Miranda knows exactly what she's doing. She's weighing the pros and cons of pulling open the door, approaching the front desk and saying to whoever is behind it, I need to speak with someone. About something I believe I did. – Olly Olly Oxen Free
As he grew, he watched others for clues as to how to pass for anyone else. He cultivated a surface affability, an apparent warmth. Friendships with girls were easiest, he discovered, because girls came equipped with so many feelings. They could fill in the gaps. For a while, at least. – Octopus Heart
Not for the first time, Marion wonders what exactly it is that has gathered them around this table. Keeps Ranald and Patrick together in their condominium, and in a few hours will couple her and Steve in their bed. What name to give it. Love is too vague. Water under the bridge is only part of it. – Higgs Boson
Publishing. His students think it's the Holy Grail. Should he tell them that it's more like a drug? That the more you get, the more you need? – Lost Lake
Pastor Peter led the applause. His mother poked him till he stood up and turned around. All six feet of him. With his thinning hair and greying beard. At least they couldn't see what he was thinking. How easy it would be to kill his mother. That night. Pillow over her face. Not much pressure. Just long enough for the jerking to stop. – Crooked Little House
Remembering, Harriet has decided, is not like reading a book cover to cover or watching a film from lights down to credits. It's more like viewing a collage that keeps changing and rearranging its parts. A pale, tiny piece in the corner might suddenly shift to the centre and start to glow. A brand new colour will seep through from the back, where it always was, unseen till now. A defining shape will all at once be gone, leaving you wondering if it was ever there in the first place. – Flesh
She went straight from her girlhood bed to Ramsay's. He punctured her on their wedding night. That's how it felt – push, push, then stab. It made her think of the word compunction. Once she was home from her honeymoon, she looked the word up. To prick severely was the first definition. Remorse for wrongdoing was the second. It was her first inkling that her marriage might have been a mistake. – In the Crow's Keeping
Does every marriage reach this point, and either break in two or just carry on for the sake of carrying on?It's a bleak binary choice she contemplates, and while I think it over-dramatises - it feels to me like a question most older couples confront at some stage. Reading the story got me examining deep questions about my own life, in a good way.
For all their giving and sharing, there's something essentially secretive about women. Tucked up inside. Not like men, hanging and swinging for all the world to see. Whenever she's been in a group of women going my-my this and my-my that, the phrase sitting on our secrets has gone through her mind. She imagines being able to enter and travel her own vagina. What would she find in there? Cave paintings? Glittering cities? An entire alternate universe? Maybe that's what men are trying to do with their relentless push-push-push. Explore. Discover. Claim.As KD Miller said in a CBC interview for the publication of this collection of stories "I get the feeling I've been waiting all my life to be this age. I'm 67, by the way. It's a terrific age and certain things just don't bug you anymore. You do get a sense of perspective."