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Reverberations: A Daughter’s Meditations on Alzheimer’s By Marion Agnew Signature Editions (Oct 1, 2019) ISBN: 9781773240589 (softcover) ISBN: 9781773240602 (Kindle ebook)  My mother recently passed away after a battle with Parkinson’s-related dementia, so I wasn’t sure what effect Marion Agnew’s book, Reverberations A Daughter’s Meditations on Alzheimer’s, would have on me. As I read, it soon becomes clear that the author had a difficult relationship with her mother, Jeanne LeCaine Agnew. Why wouldn’t she? The woman was an Ivy League mathematician, a neutron transport equations researcher during WWII, a university professor, and a demanding mother of five known by friends as “the meanest mom ever.” It’s also apparent, however, that when her mother began to slip away due to the ravages of a terrible, insidious disease, Agnew longed for much more. And as she shares her story of love and loss, I begin to recall the changes in my own incredibly strong mother. The diseases aren’t the same, but the longing for more time and the sadness experienced from helplessly watching the slow erasure of abilities and personality are. I’m also drawn in by what Agnew chooses to share with us. Her meditations, often unflattering, are so very human and underline something she states in the mathematical language preferred by her mother: “Let d be the distance between us.” Reverberations is a mémoire—a collection of essays that reflects the writer’s own experiences and memories. It covers various chapters of her life but always seems to come back to times she spent on the western shores of Lake Superior. As she recalls the summer weeks she stayed at the family’s Northwestern Ontario cottages each year, Agnew ponders how her life and relationships change within the framework of her mother’s descent into Alzheimer’s. There’s much sadness here, yet we also see humour (the many conflicting ways to make perfect devilled eggs), the defining and deepening of the author’s love for her parents, the realization of her dream to live full-time on the big lake, the kindling of an autumn romance, and the arrival of a certain understanding … “Summer or winter or somewhere in between, when I’m outdoors I can hear sounds of our human life as if they’re present. Voices of the lake, and rowboats. Letters rustling, beach rocks plunking, music, leaking roofs. The voices of people, children and adults, related to me and not, who mow and rake and prune and dig and cut, who nail and paint and scrape, who sweep and bake and roast and polish the stove, who connect water lines and empty the outhouse pails, who row and paddle and pole and swim and splash. Who dream, and plan, and pay. And love. Perhaps somewhere, somewhen, my mother walks the beach and picks up a bit of granite or jasper, an agate, a piece of pink driftglass. Perhaps she thinks of me. We, and our echoes and reverberations, for better and worse, are part of the undersong.” Marion Agnew has given us an honest and touching look at the human condition, and I recommend taking the time to read it. Marion Agnew’s essays and short fiction have appeared in numerous magazines and literary journals, including The Malahat Review, The New Quarterly, Atticus Review, The Walleye, The Grief Diaries, Full Grown People, and the anthologies Best Canadian Essays 2012 and 2014. She has been shortlisted for the Prairie Fire contest as well as a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. Originally from Oklahoma, she realized her dream of becoming a Canadian citizen and moving to her family’s summer property in the Canadian Shield, where she had spent the most magical summers of her childhood. Clayton Bye NOWW President  Silences by Roy Blomstrom Publisher: Shuniah House Books (Nov. 23, 2017) Language: English Paperback: 269 pages ISBN-10: 1775052621, ISBN-13: 978-1775052623 A Reflection
Silences begins with the discovery of a man’s body dangling from a hanging tree on the outskirts of Port Arthur in 1955. One shoe on. One off. The story shifts back to northwest Finland in the early 1900s. We meet two rural families, one Finnish speaking and the other Swedish speaking Finns. Things get complicated when a small shop owner is killed in what at first glance seems like a senseless attack. One marauder loses a boot in the process. The violence turns out to be a precursor to a civil war between the reds and whites, imported in part from Russia. War envelopes both families in conflict, leaving some dead and others damaged irreparably by what they’ve lived through. It’s particularly cruel to a 15-year-old boy who volunteers for the white army as a cook. His older brother is killed in a brutal battle for Tampere. When his body is found, he’s missing one boot. The trauma follows the survivors across the sea when they migrate to Canada. During the hot summer of ’55, two mismatched boots appear in the window of a local shoe repair shop. Appears the killer is in Port Arthur. The hanging is the culmination of the journey for one combatant. Silences uncovers a devastating period in Finnish history. The magnitude of the tragedy is staggering. People who had lived in peace for years suddenly commit terrible atrocities in the name of ideology. The impact of external powers like Russia and Germany shows how smaller nations can be treated as pawns in greater geopolitical conflicts to terrible effect. The story also gives a clear depiction of posttraumatic stress disorder. Long before such a diagnosis existed, the characters have to learn not to judge others or their behaviour. It’s a lesson that’s as true now as in 1955. Silences kept me intrigued. I love a good mystery. It also appealed to my historical curiosity. But more so, it made me think of the human condition, the terrible consequences of war, and the incredible ability of people to cope with the unimaginable. The story made me think and feel. What more can you ask of a novel? Patrick Peotto  Can you pack a whole story into just a few paragraphs? Of course you can! The NOWW Flash Fiction Contest is now accepting short-short story entries of 500 words max. Quick and to the point. The top three stories will earn cash prizes ($75/$50/$25) and publication in our blog this fall. Contest Rules
Two members of the NOWW board will judge the contest. WHAT IS FLASH FICTION? Flash fiction stories are, well, short. Sometimes called “micro-stories”, “postcard stories” (if a postcard is part of the contest) or “short-short stories”, flash fiction challenges the writer to fit a complete story into very few words. While there isn’t a paint-by-numbers formula for flash fiction, there is a certain art to it. It’s not about trying to squeeze a 3,000-word story into 500 words.
Here are a few links to help you get a better idea of the craft—and to get the creative juices flowing: How To: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2012/may/14/how-to-write-flash-fiction (Another how-to written by David Gaffney) More Tips: https://www.masterclass.com/articles/writing-101-what-is-flash-fiction-learn-how-to-write-flash-fiction-in-7-steps (This article actually lists only six steps – perhaps to prove the point?) Some Examples: http://flashfictiononline.com/main/ (Example pieces) Still I Rise: Book Review by Sue Blott Can a whole book consist of one forty-three line poem and still be strong and bold enough to hold one’s interest? If the poet is Maya Angelou, undoubtedly. Can the art of one man successfully echo the sentiments of this strong poet? If the artist is Diego Rivera, certainly. Even the cover stirs the soul. Diego’s painting is of a seated woman, hands fisted on her crossed knees, her gaze unflinching and upward, flanked by two workers, also gazing upward. Diego chose to draw the woman and the two people from a low angle, looking up at them looking up. Then the book’s title, Still I Rise, sits below the painting in yellow contrasted on a green background. Holding the book, I feel a holy Hell! Yes! Immediately I know the book will pull no punches but that it will ultimately uplift the soul. This small solid square book is all about rising up. Most pages consist of a segment of the poem on one side of the page and a vertical or horizontal painting on the opposite page. Earthy colours such as brick red, clayish yellow and sap green plus a clear deep blue highlight each two page spread. So it comes down to the selection of the painting versus the words. How in sync is the selection? And how can such strength be equally portrayed as a marriage instead of as two powerful pieces of work each vying for attention or overshadowing each other? The poem’s segment length varies so the poem is anything but static. Sometimes a whole stanza is illustrated ie Out of the huts of history’s shame/ I rise/ Up from a past that’s rooted in pain/ I rise/ I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,/ Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.Other times, a mere two lines: Did you want to see me broken?/ Bowed head and lowered eyes? So does the selected painting accurately reflect the chosen words? The temptation is to find a coupling that is weak or a little off. A crack in the marriage. But it’s impossible. A couple spring to mind, but mine them deeper, both the words and the painting, and their juxtaposition beautifully compliments each other. Take the lines: You may kill me with your hatefulness,/ But still, like air, I’ll rise. Appropriately written on a sky-blue page with a full-page sized portrait on the opposite page of Portrait of Dolores Olmeda, 1955, at first the portrait seems distanced from the words, especially the images of hate and death. But the woman looks fresh and hopeful. Clad in a bright flowered dress with a headband of flowers and ribbons woven in her hair, she carries a cloth-bottomed basket filled with mangoes. Her gaze is unyielding, forward-facing, steady and confident. She holds the abundant future, ie the ripe fruit, in one arm and lifts the flounce of her dress with her other hand. No restrictive clothing will hold her back. Her resolve seems strong and firm. No doubt that she’ll rise clear- eyed and firm of foot. Then there are the pairings that resonate so well they seem to vibrate off the page. For instance, You may shoot me with your words,/ You may cut me with your eyes,/ is paired with the picture Mural Study of Hands, Chapingo, 1927. The picture shows a close up of a woman’s left hand clasping just under the wrist of her right hand which in turn cradles her chin. Such a unique coil of connection. The woman’s shoulder-length curly black hair and her mouth and nose are evident but the painting ends, interestingly, below her eyes. Intriguing but, as such, it emphasises the critical world’s eyes, not the woman’s eyes. Likewise the portrait, Portrait of Ruth Rivera, 1949, which accompanies the lines: Does my sexiness upset you?/ Does it come as a surprise/ . Ruth Rivera is painted in a simple white dress that suggests her hips. She glances over her shoulder while holding a beautiful round mirror filled with golden light and her profile. She looks as though she was admiring herself when someone walked in the room but she shows no surprise, more a look of indignation of being dis- turbed. The mirror glows moon-like, subtly emphasis- ing the feminine and the mysteries of femininity. To reach the height needed, the mirror’s long handle is taped to another stick, a surprising attention to detail when noticed in the gorgeous murkiness of the lower background. Ruth’s sandaled foot peeks from under her dress as though she were postulating to no-one but herself, admiring her own beauty and strength. The following page quivers with vitality. Complimenting the couplet That I dance like I’ve got diamonds/ At the meeting of my thighs?/, it is the only painting that features men. Dance in Tehuantepec, 1935 shows a man and a woman dancing barefoot while seated women watch. The man, all in yellow with a black hat, kicks and leans back while the young woman with twirling blue ribbons in her hair, has both feet solidly on the ground, her white skirts lifted and swaying about her ankles. In the distance, a second couple echoes the main dancers’ postures. The paint- ing vibrates with a passion that totally matches such brazen words and uplifts the heart, the way a good dance and hypnotic music is apt to do. This little book shows no qualms at cutting be- tween stanzas to shift the kilter, to toss us off balance. Despite this, I think Maya Angelou would approve even though it may give a slightly different interpre- tation to her work. Interestingly, the poem doesn’t ap- pear intact, on one page in the book, forcing the reader to take it however it is presented, piece by piece, page by page, digesting every word. Rivera’s paintings are listed in the back of the book and cover a range of years from 1924 to 1955. Angelou’s poem appears to have first been published in 1978. This book was first published in 2001. The difference in times forms an inspiring arc, a multilayered umbrella of creativity. The back cover of the book has no words, only a repeated painting: Nude With Calla Lillies (Desnudo con alcatraces), 1944. A naked woman kneeling on a woven mat embraces a huge basket overflowing with white calla lilies. She could be embracing the book itself! Its softness provides a refreshing contrast to the gritty industry of the front cover painting suggesting that woman still rises, on her own terms, through her own strength. She embraces the lilies as hope and assurance that yes, she will rise, whatever it takes. What a joy for anyone to experience this little gem of a book. More especially, perhaps, what a joy for a creative. At least for this writer, the joy of cre- ating is in the process but also in the unknown, the release of a piece into the world at some point, some- how. One never knows when creating something how, when or even if it will breathe on its own, who it will journey to, who it will uplift, who will cling to it like a life raft in a dark stormy sea, what it could be paired with. Perhaps it could be argued that a female artist’s paintings, maybe even different artists, should have illustrated the poem. Yet, it’s hard to fault any of the pairings—this little book simply works as a support- ive marriage. In wondering how Maya Angelou and Diego Rivera would have viewed this book, I think they would have both approved, probably as true cre- ative souls, neither of them surprised by the delightful combination of support and strength from each other’s work. Perhaps, as it is meant to do, this small book would have uplifted their souls. 
Sue Blott has been writing for as long as she can remember, in as many different genres as possible. She isdelighted to have won this prize for her review of a small book crammed with hope and power; a fitting anthem for these turbulent days.
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