by Grace O'Connell
After twenty years of running, Betty quietly returns to her hometown of Arbford, thinking it a solid place to finally put down some roots. But the adage 'you can't go home again' proves true, as Betty finds that her mere presence is more than enough to disrupt the stagnant lives of everyone around her.
“In this cautionary suburban fairy tale, a big-city refugee searching for home finds herself in a nest of multiple Mikes and Pyrex-wielding vipers. With enchanting style and snort-causing wit, Grace O’Connell does casserole-studded claustrophobia like nobody’s business.”
— Jessica Westhead, author of And Also Sharks and Pulpy & Midge
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BETTY HAD NOT BEEN the right type of name in the city, but when she arrived in Arbford, Betty found it was just right. There were several other Bettys in town; this was seen as a good thing. Arbford was not a town of Madisons and Mackenzies; in fact, Arbford was not a town at all, but a village, and barely that. But no one said village. Everyone said “You make the best borscht in town,” or “No one in this town’s pitched like that since Jeremy Frankel.” Betty was careful to pick up on these things, these local customs. She could remember some things, vaguely, for she herself had grown up in Arbford. But that had been more than twenty years ago, before she had packed a suitcase and run away to the city before the junior prom. She wanted to be an actress and a dancer and get away from her father, whom Betty had sensibly confirmed was dead in a pauper’s grave before she ever thought of going back. When she arrived on the bus with blond hair and a different last name, she didn’t mention that she was that Betty and let herself get shown around town as if she’d never been there, sweating in the heavy heat of early fall. No one recognized her; a disappointment and a relief.
IN THE CITY, ON her mirror at the theatre, one of the other girls had taped a sign: YOU CAN’T GO HOME AGAIN.
“Keeps me from running back with my tail between my legs,” the girl had said. She was pretty, with hound-dog eyes and pale nipples she coloured with lipstick to make them stand out.
“But why can’t you,” said Betty, “if you want to.”
The other girl laughed. “If wanting made things real, I’d be living in a posh hotel and eating steak every day. I’d have a nice husband with good hands and a big thing. I’d have a white horse with blue eyes and I would be able to ride him wherever I wanted, right down the middle of the goddamn street if I wanted. Wanting isn’t enough.”
And Betty had nodded, but later, she thought that she didn’t really believe that girl was right.
WHEN BETTY GOT TO Arbford, she needed a job. She had some money left over, but not much. With the money she had, she rented a little flat above a store that sold hot tubs and saunas and above-ground pools and accessories to go with it all. The store was in a plaza with three other stores and a wide, cracked parking lot. When Betty needed a job, she went downstairs to the hot tub store and said, “I need a job.”
The man who owned the store was there. He had on a short-sleeved collared shirt and a name tag that said Mike.
“I don’t really need anybody right now. Maybe one day a week. Would that work?”
“Not really. I need something full time. I live upstairs. In the apartment upstairs.”
Mike nodded. “Yeah, I recognize you. You’re Betty.” He took a pen out of his pocket and chewed thoughtfully on the end. He wasn’t an elderly man; he looked about the same age as Betty. On his temples there were handsome fans of white hair, but his moustache was brown throughout.
“Let me go see about something, Betty. You wait here.”
Putting his pen down on the counter, Mike went out the door and turned left, toward the candy store. A few minutes later Betty saw him go by in the opposite direction, toward the pet store and the little twelve-seat diner. Betty thought about picking up the pen and putting it into her own mouth.
When Mike came back he said, “Okay, here’s the deal. We’ll hire you. You can work Monday for me, Tuesday for Mike, Wednesday for Mike, Thursday for Mike, and then on Fridays, we’ll see who needs your help the most. How does that sound?”
Betty said it sounded just fine to her and thank you very much. She stood for a moment longer and then asked, “On Monday I work for you, and on Tuesday I work for Mike?”
Mike let out a big belly laugh, like a skinny Santa Claus. It made Betty wonder what he would be like when drunk.
“Guess you haven’t met too many people yet,” he said. “We’re all named Mike, all four of us in the plaza. Mike owns the candy store, Mike owns the diner, and Mike owns the pet shop. Understand?”
“Can you start tomorrow at the candy store? Mike said he could use a hand sorting through some comics and whatnot.”
That is how Betty came to work for the plaza. The stores were lined up in a row facing Main Street. Behind them was the river. Above them was Betty, walking barefoot at night, too hot to sleep.
about the author
GRACE O'CONNELL lives in Toronto. Her work has appeared in various publications including The Walrus, Taddle Creek, Quill and Quire, and EYE Weekly, and she holds an MFA in creative writing. She has taught creative writing at George Brown College and now works as a freelance writer and editor. Her first novel, Magnified World, was published in 2012 by Random House Canada.
from the library
by Pauline Holdstock
Inspired by true events, this story by Scotiabank Giller Prize-nominated author Pauline Holdstock tells of the incredible bond between a mother and daughter, and with gut-wrenching poignancy reminds us of the little things that make life worth living.
“Hers is the kind of prose you get lost in.”
— National Post on The Hunter and the Wild Girl
“Holdstock’s writing manages to be both heartbreakingly poetic and densely detailed ... sad passages, ghostlike recollections, written almost from the vantage point of the present, establish the book as a great work of fiction.”
— The Globe and Mail on Into the Heart of the Country, longlisted for the 2011 Scotiabank Giller Prize
“Holdstock, with a few deft strokes, pulls the reader into the tumultuous life of an alluring rabble of characters: painters, sculptors, patrons, fools, and slaves ... In Beyond Measure, she proves herself a master of pacing. Her lively, macabre plot trips lightly along in spite of its dark elements.”
— The Globe and Mail on Beyond Measure, finalist for the 2004 Giller Prize and the 2004 Commonwealth Writers' Prize
by Kirsty Logan
Steve has his own comic book store, a limitless supply of comic books, and all the time in the world to collect them. That should be enough. But eventually, everyone - even Steve - gets lonely. And when his time comes, he too has to learn that (eternal) life isn’t about what you spend it on - it’s about who you spend it with.
“Every time I read something by Kirsty, I think, ‘Damn her, I wish I’d written that.’ She is the kind of writer that you can’t help but read with teeth-crunching envy, broken-hearted admiration, and a realization that your own work is not half as good as you’d hoped it might be. Be forewarned writers and readers: you will never be the same.”
— Shanna Germain, finalist for the 2010 John Preston Short Fiction Award and nominee for the 2008 Pushcart Prize
In Our House
by the Sea
by Kirsty Logan
Romance is candlelight on cheekbones, blurring gazes and the press of heels on strange sheets. But what happens a year later? You’re sharing bath towels and bickering over who forgot to buy a light bulb. There is beauty in a familiar hand on the nape of your neck. There is love in waking up under a shared blanket. This story is about the romance of domesticity.
“Kirsty is one of the best and brightest . . . when I read her stuff I feel like I could taste it, chew it, roll it around on my tongue, the language is so delicious and sturdy and musical. She also has a knack for getting relationships exactly right in her writing, whether between parent and child or lovers or friends.”
— Amber Sparks, Fiction Editor at Emprise Review
by Kirsty Logan
The anarchic relationships holding together a group of teen girls - whose lines between love and hate, jealousy and loyalty, are not so much drawn as they are furiously scribbled - are put to the test at an unforgettable birthday party. This story captures all the angst and uncertainty of adolescence, with prose as sharp and jarring as a smashed kaleidoscope.
“Rarely an author comes along whose work hits you with the impact of a slap. I have had this experience with the work of Jayne Anne Phillips, with Lorrie Moore and Mary Gaitskill; most recently I have felt this on discovering the writing of Kirsty Logan. Her work is elegant, minimal, and innovative, but underlying it all is a great passion. If the world is a place where talent is recognised—in time, I believe, we may come to say her name alongside the aforementioned.”
— Ewan Morrison, author of Swung
by Star Spider
In the late 60s, the newest member of a group of all-female pearl divers — the ama — sees her life, and the lives of those dear to her, disrupted by an unlikely force: a James Bond film that sends American men to Japan in search of their own personal 'mermaids'.
Off the Main Highway
by Courtney McDermott
At the Chickasaw Motel, three generations of the McGuinness clan are led by their elderly and overbearing patriarch. Only little Riley, “the smartest f-ing kid”, is spared the brunt of Grandpa McGuinness’s cruelty; ironically, it is his encouragement that provides her with a way out.
by Dave Margoshes
Decades ago, when bands like the Everly Brothers rode the airwaves and vacancy signs shone like beacons in the night, a young man gets his first taste of love, loss, and the ethereal satisfaction that comes with knowing that the world is turning and life is being lived.
In the Afternoon
by Laure Baudot
Catherine wants what Richard has: a richly decorated house, and a perfect, lavished-upon baby. Catherine also wants Richard: a disaffected diplomat whose true passion is for cinema. But Catherine is only the babysitter, and her envy—and its fallout—come to the fore when Richard is accused of a crime, and she must decide whether to help exonerate him.
“Laure Baudot’s prose is exquisite, patient, and sophisticated. In the Afternoon immerses you in the fascinating and complicated mind of a babysitter who is wise beyond her years, yet dangerously impulsive at the same time. This story is irresistible and heartbreaking.”
— Sarah Selecky, author of the 2010 Giller Prize–shortlisted collection This Cake Is for the Party