The Dusty Bookcase

A JANUARY MORNING       The glittering roofs are still with frost; each worn       Black chimney builds into the quiet sky       I...

Post-war verse for a year's end by Ida Randolph Spragge, wife of Maclean's editor Thomas B. Costain, from the magazine's Ja...

Twenty-eighteen was a year of great change. In April, we sold our home of ten years and started packing up our belongings. We moved in...

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Verse for the day by Virna Sheard (née Stanton), daughter of Cobourg, Ontario, from her collection The Miracle and Other Poems (Toro...

I'm right now reading Thomas Jerome Seabrook's  Bowie in Berlin , a book that has nothing at all to do with Canadian literature....

One month after the Armistice, the post-war world is in many ways unrecognizable. Consider this from the front page of the December 7, 1...