Treading Lightly into 2026
Hi readers and thanks for being here.
I wish I had more to say about what I’m working on, but I’m waiting for inspiration to strike (or another arts grant, whichever comes first). I’m planning to wrap up the We Were Here project with the completion and online publication of the stories I’ve been working on about gay men who died of AIDS a generation ago. I’m also waiting, as a writer always is, for a magazine publisher to say yes to one of the stories I’ve submitted about young people who died of opioids (stories from outside Ontario that didn’t become part of the film series). Pending a bit more funding, I’d like to assemble the people I interviewed for a conversation about the highly charged grief of both health crises. And I’d like to make a video of that conversation for the historical record. And then I might finally be done writing about illness and death. But I’ve said that before…
I’m treading lightly into 2026 for a bunch of reasons. One, it feels like the world is full of landmines. Every day feels more dangerous and ominous than the one before. Two, I can’t physically tread with any energy or enthusiasm because arthritis has taken over my joints. Managing pain has become nearly a full-time preoccupation. When I’m not doing my exercises or lying on ice, distraction is more realistic than creativity right now. This is the scene much of each day:
I’ve read some really good books while on my small couch with my large dog. I wouldn’t remember any of their titles but for the magic of Toronto Public Library’s borrowing history tab. These would probably be my top 10 of 2025:
North Woods, Daniel Mason
The Riveter, Jack Wang
Pick a Colour, Souvankham ThammavoAngsa
The Trial of Katterfelto, Michael Redhill
The Adversary, Michael Crummy
Happy Land, Dolan Perkins-Valdez
A Different Hurricaine, H. Nigel Thomas
Curiosities, Anne Fleming
Our Evenings, Alan Hollinghurst
Greta and Valdin, Rebecca Reilly
And now I’m loving Alison Bechdel’s new graphic novel, Spent, if for no other reason than one of the more nefarious characters is called Cedilla Umlaut. It’s about aging and ethics, and gently mocks Alison’s younger earnestness in ways I thoroughly enjoy.
I don’t have any streaming services, but over the holidays I just about scorched my eyeballs taking advantage of my daughter’s TV to catch up on The Guilded Age, Only Murders in the Building, A Man on the Inside and of course Heated Rivalry. Despite my total lack of interest in hockey or shirtless men, it gave me all the feels. Are we saying “all the feels” anymore, or just “six-seven?” I can’t keep up.
Wishing you small pleasures,
Mary