Prairie West School Division: A Rural Legacy
Your Nickel's Worth Publishing / 29 October 2008

In spite of no technology or teaching aids other than a blackboard (chalk allotment was one piece per day), students and staff have fond recollections. The school became the hub of the farming community. Dances, church services, recruiting meetings during World War 1, fowl suppers, Christmas concerts, and summer picnics took place at the school. Many teachers were young women teaching on permit. Some left after a short time, being unable to manage the responsibility and isolation of their teaching positions. Neighbourhood bachelors, eager to change their marital status, anticipated the arrival of the new teacher. Blumenhof School #4089 added a second classroom in the 1940’s. As the new foundation was being poured, the students threw the school strap into the cement. At King’s County School #4428, students used thistles to build forts. Part of the entertainment was setting fire to your rivals’ fort!

Journey Without a Map
Thistledown Press / 22 October 2008

Opening Caruso’s book is like opening your family photo albums. You’ll delight in remembering special events like graduations, reunions, and weddings. Equally special are the every day but never mundane events like children running through the sprinkler in the backyard or standing on a stool stirring cookie batter. Cooking is an important part of Italian culture. Caruso walks us through the art of salad making, cooking perfect pasta, and making miraculously healing chicken soup. This book is a legacy to her family with her pride shining through in every page. Caruso poignantly shares details of her life. Her book is sometimes humourous like Uncle Nick dancing at a wedding, sometimes sad like when grandma died when Caruso was thirteen years old, but always entertaining.

Mongrel Love
Hagios Press / 1 October 2008

Krause experiments with poetic forms, line endings, and imagery. The words and images in Mongrel Love are chosen to take the reader along on the journey. “We are all wounded/& beautiful” says the title poem, as we travel “the fruitless/ quest for the familiar.”

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