Outbreak: a short story

This is a work of historical fiction. The main character, Dr. John Slayter, was Health Officer for the Port of Halifax in 1866 when called upon to treat cholera-infected patients on a ship in the Halifax Harbour. The details concerning dates, his family life, interactions (with Charles Tupper, among others), treatment protocols, etc. are drawn from historical records. The characters of George, and Maggie and Seamus Murphy are imagined.

*            *            *

Dip, splash. Dip, splash.

Waves gently lapped against the boat.  The motion made me sleepy. Sitting in the bow, I followed the oars’ creaking trail through the water and up into the brisk morning air. Water droplets hopped over the black harbour and spread circular ripples in their wake. Pulling my focus closer I gazed up one oar over the shackle to George's bulging bicep and across his broad back.

I nodded off for a split second. When I snapped my head back up and opened my eyes, George turned toward me.

"This seems about as good a spot as any. What do you think, Doc Slayter?"

George had rowed far past Thrum Cap, the southernmost tip of McNab's Island, but I could still make out the distant speck of a girl watching us from the rocky shore.

"Little further George, please."

I sat opposite the crude pine coffin roped across the stern, protruding over the water. I wished it were a hallucination but I knew otherwise.

Click to read more ...

Like a moth to light, The Virgin Cure drew me in

Like the large bar of dark chocolate I intended to mete out a piece at a time but instead polished off in two days, I planned to read Ami McKay's new book, The Virgin Cure, slowly. Despite my best efforts, I finished it within a week and am left awed and yet still hungry. I hope blogging and talking about it with fellow readers bring me the satiety I seek.

The Virgin Cure is the Dickensian-style story of Moth, a 12-year old girl living on Manhattan's rat-ridden Chrystie Street in 1874. To say Moth's is a hard scrabble life is an understatement. Abandoned by Moth's father, Moth's mother supports the family as a psychic, but she shows a shocking lack of foresight for one who purports to see the future. Deciding Moth is old enough to start supporting her, she kicks Moth out of their home, into a situation even more rife with abuse than the one Moth is leaving.

Moth is merchandise, bought and sold several times in the story.

Click to read more ...

Who are you?

I am a runner. I am a writer.

I make these claims cautiously. I say them out loud and write them down to take ownership of them.

I crossed the finish line at the Halifax Bluenose half-marathon last weekend feeling terrific. I beat my time from the year before by four minutes. I trained hard and on race day felt healthy, strong and happy. Then I looked to my right. The winner of the men's full marathon was also crossing the finish line. It took him just 24 minutes longer to run another 21.1 km. Hmmm. You mean all that loud cheering wasn't for me? It's okay, I though. I'm not a real runner. It's just a hobby, something I do to stay in shape. Those full marathoners are the real runners.

Click to read more ...

For the love of writing

"I hate writing. I love having written." Dorothy Parker

Were two more perfect sentences ever strung together? This quote captures how I often feel, particularly on days when I'm writing fiction. Creative writing has to be one of the most frustrating and tortuous processes. But when you've met your writing goal—whether it be 1,500 words, a chapter, a short story—and you find yourself actually pleased with what you've written, it's also one of the most satisfying. I suppose it's that which keeps me going when logic otherwise tells me to stop.

Click to read more ...