Atlantic Books Today AFTERWORD
Teasers O
ne thing is certain: at night, by the campfire under the stars, our families would tell each other stories. Stories about who we were, where we came from, and all the lessons we needed to learn about life. Those stories passed on our traditions, songs, language, and the culture of our people. Here we present to you just a couple of those stories that were passed down from generation to generation. Storytelling is how we pass down our traditional knowledge, our history, our language, our customs, and who we are as a people. The only written part of our culture would be the pictographs left many years ago in Kejimkujik National Park. Those are pictures on rock that represent a whole story, and many of those picture stories have been lost over time. What we do have, and what we share with pride, is our stories. Each story is based on a teaching: believe in yourself, be good to others, look after the world and nature, and so many more. There are a lot of reasons we share our stories. One reason would be if we need to teach a child a lesson, and as a culture that believes in non-interference, we would not tell a child what they can or cannot do— instead we tell them a story to explain to them why they should do what we suggest. Hear our stories, learn from them, and experience them, but most of all we hope you enjoy them! Wela’lioq—Thank you —Excerpted from Mi’kmaq Campfire Stories of Prince Edward Island by Julie Pellissier-Lush. © by Julie Pellissier-Lush. Published by Acorn Press. acornpresscanada.com
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t was in 2013 that Phillip Boudreau was dropped—allegedly—to the bottom of the sea, but his neighbours would not be entirely surprised if he walked out of the ocean tomorrow, coated in seaweed and dripping with brine, smiling. After all, Phillip had often vanished for long periods during his forty-three years, and he always came back to where he’d grown up—Alderney Point, at the edge of the Acadian village of Petit de Grat on Isle Madame, Nova Scotia. Afterwards it would turn out that he had been in prison, or out West, or hiding in the woods. Perhaps the police had been looking for him and he’d have tucked himself away in other people’s boats or trailers, or curled up and gone to sleep in the bushes of the moorland near his family’s home, his face coated with droplets of fog. He and his dog often slept in a rickety shed outside his parents’ home, where the narrow dirt road ends at the rocky shore of Chedabucto Bay. He’d even been known to hollow out a snowbank and shelter himself from the bitter night in the cold white cavern he’d created. … Some people loved Phillip. He could be funny, helpful, kind. He was generous to old people, good with animals, gentle with children. Other people hated and feared him, though they tended to conceal their feelings. If you crossed him he might threaten to sink your boat, shoot you, burn down your house. He could make you fearful for the safety of your daughter. Would he actually do anything violent? Hard to say. —Excerpted from Blood in the Water by Silver Donald Cameron. © by Paper Tiger Enterprises Ltd. Published by Penguin Random House Canada. penguinrandomhouse.ca
Pro: Allan is stealthy like a le Carré character. That’s hot. Mom affects him too though. He’s quieter about it, sure, but he grinds his teeth and shortens his syllables, blunting the consonants for maximum impact. But for her presence he wouldn’t be shushing Kenny, who wants to listen to the baseball broadcast. Allan barks at our seven-year-old boy and Kenny barks back, and Muffler actually barks and the three of them glare at one another like drunks in a bar while Mom looks on approvingly because Allan is being strict and she thinks that is good parenting. Whatever they’re barking it’s monosyllabic and of the three, Muffler’s voice is the clearest, least slurred. 38
