by Caroline Adderson
Coming out of an unhappy relationship and a stint at an artist colony, Charlotte, a writer, takes a job teaching at a private ESL college. There she befriends Renata—audacious, sexy, and as changeable as Proteus. “I have a story for you,” Renata says to her one day over lunch. She doesn’t elaborate further, but Charlotte soon discovers that she has found in Renata an unexpectedly passionate and compelling subject.
“Caroline Adderson is such a graceful and intelligent writer that the work that must surely go into creating her hilarious, prismatic stories is never betrayed in the language. There is no strain on the page, not a bead of sweat. I think of her as a writer’s writer. I envy her talent and learn from her sentences. The short story, Obscure Objects, is, I’m happy to report, Adderson at her glorious best.”
— Barbara Gowdy, author of Helpless and The White Bone
“Obscure Objects, Caroline Adderson’s fierce and affecting workplace comedy, is a deadpan gem: droll, moving, snapping-smart.”
— Meg Wolitzer, author of The Uncoupling, The Ten-Year Nap, and The Position
HOT IN SUMMER, COLD in winter—as though weather reached us in the staff room. Not so: the room was unfenestrated. What actually blew over us were the perversely inverted whims of the A/C system. Here each teacher was assigned a carrel. It felt so much like a stall that after I finally left for good I blamed it, the carrel, for the near-bovine sense of complacency that kept me working there an entire year. In the facing carrel, tête-à-tête to me, though I couldn’t see her when we were both seated, was a woman I’d known slightly in university, Janine. Janine with the memorable hair. Even her eyebrows and lashes and the fuzz on her arms were a deep bronze. Yet it was she who recognized me first. She stood up in her carrel and, from her higher vantage, looked down into mine where I was arranging my things the day I was hired. “So, Charlotte,” she said. “Is this it? The inexorable end to a degree in creative writing?”
A honey-haired head popped up over the partition to my left. This was Renata, who gave me this story. She looked at me with curiosity. Later I met Sterling, who was serving time behind the right partition, ball-and-chained there by Practical English Usage. He was the one who first described the room as unfenestrated. A half-dozen or so other colleagues also toiled there, thanklessly.
In the same small room was a metal supply cupboard with a lock, the combination a countdown: ten-nine-eight. Every time we took a pencil or a stick of chalk we had to update the inventory posted inside the door and initial it so management could keep track of who was using what. The photocopy machine churned away in the corner, a beige satanic mill. There were no class texts. We photocopied chapters, which made competition for the machine especially cutthroat the fifteen minutes before class. In fact, we might have developed some rapport as a staff despite the isolating carrels if not for the way the machine pitted us one against the other, and the continuous noise of it, its insatiable demand for toner that no one wanted the grubby job of adding, its serial jams, the blinking green light on the map on the inside panel that supposedly indicated the precise location of the jam, which was usually so deep within the hot gears and plates that no fingers dared go there, if not for the obvious disgust of the briefcased repairman who appeared every few days to minister to the overworked machine. We could tell he thought it was a shitty place to work. All this divided us, just as management wanted it. They were terrified we would unionize.
about the author
CAROLINE ADDERSON is the author of four novels (A History of Forgetting, Sitting Practice, The Sky is Falling, Ellen in Pieces), two collections of short stories (Bad Imaginings, Pleased to Meet You), and three books for young readers (Very Serious Children,I, Bruno, Bruno For Real). Her work has received numerous prize nominations including the Scotiabank Giller Prize longlist, the Governor General's Literary Award, the Rogers Writer's Trust Fiction Prize, and the Commonwealth Writers' Prize. A two-time Ethel Wilson Fiction Prize and three-time CBC Literary Award winner, Caroline was also the recipient of the 2006 Marian Engel Award for mid-career achievement.
from the library
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
Polly knows what she wants: to be in the greatest band in the world. Oliver knows what he wants: Polly. Together they are The Oughts, a duo trying to attain the unattainable, one basic chord at a time.
“Richard Rosenbaum’s The Oughts jabs its sticky little fingers right into your heart and swirls them around in there for a long, long time. Its characters unfold in pitch-perfect awkwardness and tender apathy, and readers will be struck by the surreal hinges and twitching imagery that Rosenbaum flawlessly weaves in. Writers in the audience should take note: Rosenbaum has created a writhing work of fiction that any scribe would aspire to be capable of pulling off.”
— Liz Worth, author of Treat Me Like Dirt: An Oral History of Punk in Toronto and Beyond and Eleven: Eleven
A woman wakes up in bed beside her ex-boyfriend and is at loss to explain how she got there. Inexplicably drawn to stay, she scours every square inch of the apartment they used to share, noting the traces of her presence that linger on, as well as the empty spots that conspicuously mark her absence. The deeper she digs, the more she understands how imperfect her relationship was – and the less willing she is to come up for air.
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'.
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.
Having lived a long, eventful life, Charlie Weinheimer’s only regret is that he has no one to carry on after him. After a near-death experience, he resolves to find out whether a secret buried in his past is proof he has a legacy after all.
“Margoshes gives us the life of Charlie Weinheimer: quadruple bypass patient, widower whose children all die tragically young, but not a whiner. In his hospital bed at age seventy-seven, he’s seen it all, right? Well, maybe not. Watch as Margoshes calls upon his raconteur skills to thicken the plot.”
— David Carpenter, winner of the 2010 Saskatchewan Book Award for A Hunter’s Confession
A small-time internet scammer is shaken from her somewhat safe new life when an investigator arrives with questions to do with her erstwhile "period of moral decline" — specifically, the whereabouts of a young woman whose brief, bright friendship nearly steered her from the stability she now craves.
As a boy, Timmy (Sir Timothy Brian F. the Fantabulous) tells tall, tragic tales to get attention from the adults in his life - particular his busy mother and Dr. Bass, his nerdy-cool neighbour. As a young man, his escalating lies destroy his relationships, alienate his loved ones, and land him in hot water with police; but that doesn’t stop him from crying wolf again and again.