Bookworm, no. 146
Amanda Perry reviews Karen Dubinsky’s “Strangely, Friends.” Macenzie Rebelo on Natalie Southworth’s “There’s Always More to Say.” And the nominees are... A cover artist Q&A. Inside the May issue.
Strangely, Friends: A History of Cuban-Canadian Encounters
Karen Dubinsky
Between the Lines
292 pages, softcover and ebook
Karen Dubinsky’s Strangely, Friends charts the surprising affinities that have emerged between Canadians and Cubans, especially since the 1959 revolution. The title may feel ironic amid the American oil blockade of the island, as Mark Carney appears willing to abandon Cubans to placate Donald Trump. Such diplomatic manoeuvres are not, however, Dubinsky’s main focus. Instead, she considers the bonds fostered by individuals and organizations.
A professor at Queen’s University, Dubinsky begins with portraits of Canadian visitors to Cuba. Her survey ranges from Leonard Cohen’s vacation in 1961 to the Skup family’s decades-long tenure, during which they worked as left-wing researchers and tourism entrepreneurs. Her most bizarre example is Frère Marie-Victorin, known for founding the botanical garden in Montreal. During sojourns in the 1930s, meant to improve his fragile health, he collected plant specimens and frequented Havana’s brothels. Later chapters show the enduring connections that can emerge from mass tourism. As a hobby, the retired car salesman Bill Ryan began making Cuban-themed baseball bats for friends in Cayo Largo del Sur, then later helped reopen a bat factory on the island. Dubinsky also interviews dozens of musicians who migrated to Canada and contributed to local scenes.
During exchange programs designed by Canadian University Service Overseas in the ’70s, Cubans insisted that their needs be taken seriously. In contrast to our current era—“when even high-school students from the First World are encouraged to participate in development activities overseas”—CUSO brought Canadian engineering faculty to Cuba to teach intensive courses based on local priorities. Dubinsky remains aware of power disparities, detailing how economic divides often impede equality. Such nuance allows her to explore relationships that spread in defiance of U.S. directives without romanticizing Canadian altruism or, for that matter, the Cuban state.
—Amanda Perry
There’s Always More to Say
Natalie Southworth
Linda Leith Publishing
170 pages, softcover and ebook
Natalie Southworth’s unflinching debut collection, There’s Always More to Say, explores the lives of young women navigating fractured families. Each of the nine short stories revolves around themes of codependency, disconnection, and mental illness.
In “The Realtor,” Frank, a puppeteer turned failed salesman, struggles to let go of his passion despite his family’s financial problems. “Who is this man, this shrinking man?” his teenage daughter thinks. Years later, she realizes that by “giving inanimate objects life,” her father “transcended the limits of being himself.” In “The Pocket Book,” Bryce obsesses so much over “reaching a higher plane” that he neglects his family. For the rest of her life, his daughter contends with the harm caused by his indifference toward her. Doreen and Ivette, the boy-crazy friends in “Going Places,” are impressed with how their fathers “seemed free, unlike their bitter, paralyzed, powerless mothers.” The girls party and date without supervision, then are forced to confront the dark realities of adulthood far too soon. In “Spectacular,” a twelve-year-old develops anorexia in an effort to meet her mom’s beauty standards.
Even with its grit, the book highlights small acts of love, typically a moment of introspection at the end of each entry. The sisters in “Inheritance” try to cope after their abusive mother dies. Rachel, whose mental health suffered after her son’s birth, better understands their mother’s actions. Cora learns that growing up with an emotionally unavailable parent made her avoidant. By the end, she reconnects with her sister, breaking the cycle. Southworth is sure to underscore the importance of such relationships, how a quiet yet remarkable bond can influence women and girls.
—Macenzie Rebelo
Look, Mom!
Naturally, we don’t do this work to win prizes, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t proud of the plaudits when they come. Last week, the Literary Review of Canada received six National Magazine Award nominations, for Stephen Marche’s The Grey Plateau (Essay), George Elliott Clarke’s “Trancelating” the Verses of Agnes Fong (Lucero): (XXXII) (Poetry), Raymond Biesinger’s June 2025 cover (Illustration), and David Parkins’s April 2025 cover (Illustration and Best Cover). And the magazine itself was nominated for Best Magazine: Art, Literary, and Culture for the second year in a row.
Winners will be announced at a gala in Toronto on June 5.
Cover Artist Q&A: Yiren Tang
How did you come up with the concept?
When I brainstormed the Artemis II launch, I thought of the game Outer Wilds, in which the protagonist explores the solar system and investigates alien ruins. It inspired my approach. I wanted to create a profound, clean image that feels both intimate and distant.
Who are some contemporary designers you admire?
There are so many. A few that come to mind are Shaun Tan of Australia, Taku Bannai of Japan, and Yun Ling of Canada. I’m also a big fan of the visual storytelling in Puss in Boots: The Last Wish and Studio Ghibli movies.
How has your style evolved?
I started with traditional media, such as pencil, charcoal, watercolour, and oil paint. Later, I learned how to use different software to illustrate. In 2021, I took a 3-D course and really enjoyed it. I still explore new ways of creating, and the process is always surprising and exciting—and sometimes frustrating.
You split your time between Seattle and Toronto. Did you cheer for the Mariners or the Blue Jays during the playoffs?
I rooted for the Mariners in the semifinals and the Blue Jays in the final. I lost twice. This year, I’ll choose more wisely.
Inside the May Issue
“A friend once told me that when you’re old enough to appreciate your mother, she’s too old to feel appreciated. That was especially true for me, since mine disappeared into an Alzheimer’s void when I was in my forties. In the years following her death in 2014, I would sometimes imagine conversations: both of us the same middle age, drinking coffee, playing cards, me asking about her early life, gathering recipes. Wouldn’t that be something, I thought. And then it kind of happened.” Lisa Gregoire steps into her mother’s shoes.
Graham Fraser on Lisette Lapointe’s De combats et d’amour: Mémoires (Of battles and love).
“Performative complicity with ecocide has never sounded so smart, looked so pretty, or struck so many favourable poses.” Todd Dufresne reviews Robert Moor’s In Trees: An Exploration.
And much more!