Small Reckonings , livre ebook

Shadowpaw Press - Karin Melberg Schwier

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205 pages

English

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Description

John V. Hicks Long Manuscript Award, 2019

Saskatoon Award, 2021 Saskatchewan Book Awards

Glengarry Book Award Jury Short List, Recognition of Literary Excellence, 2021

In the early 20th century, as homesteaders in Saskatchewan are scratching out hard new lives on the Canadian prairie, William, an adventurer from New Zealand, brings his new bride, Louise, to the freshly broken earth of his farm near Watrous.

Physical and emotional isolation take their toll on everyone struggling to survive in the harsh landscape, and when William and Louise's second child, Violet, is born "feebleminded," it plunges Louise-a woman burdened with a dark secret-back into a time of shame and regret, even as the child draws out goodness and loyalty from her neighbours, Hank and Emily.

Then tragedy upends the family, and William, while struggling to raise and protect his daughter and find his way to forgiveness, must come to terms with the fact that no one is infallible.

Sujets

20th Century

Historical

Neurodiversity

General officer

Historical fiction

Down syndrome

General

Saskatchewan

Informations

Publié par	Shadowpaw Press
Date de parution	11 avril 2023
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781989398753
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0400€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Praise for Small Reckonings

2021 National Jury Shortlist Recognition of
Literary Excellence, Glengarry Book Award

2021 Winner, Saskatchewan Book Awards

2019 Winner, John V. Hicks
Long Manuscript Award for Fiction

“Characters in this Watrous, SK-based historical novel—set between 1914 and 1936—are exquisitely and sympathetically drawn, the plot moves, and the portrait of this small town and its multi-ethnic pioneers rings true and clears as wind chimes in a prairie breeze . . . This story succeeds so well because the writer’s learned the tricky art of literary balance. As skilled as she is at penning descriptive scenes, they never slow the pacing of this taut novel. The book’s structure is nuanced, and seemingly minor details—like a fishhook caught in an eye —have resonance. The characters are people we know . . .”
SHELLEY LEEDAHL

“ . . . intricately told historical novel (with) modern connotations broaching our current conversation around trauma, consent, and sexual assault . . . Scenes linger, resonate in the mind.”
HICKS JUDGES ELISABETH DE MARIAFFI AND RABINDRANATH MAHARAJ

“ . . . an excellently-rendered story to be treasured for its intense understanding of human plight and pluck, tenderness and trauma.”
SASKATCHEWAN BOOK AWARDS

“With beautiful writing that will resonate with readers who know these prairie skies, but also with readers who long to explore this country of ours, this nuanced and powerful book is a stunning exploration of love, disability, family, and loss.”
ALICE KUIPERS

“Small Reckonings is a graceful, poignant debut novel, with the strong character of Violet at its heart. Considered vulnerable by her community, she turns out to be feisty and courageous. Her story, and that of her family, unfolds against the sweep of prairie with compelling power. Karin Melberg Schwier has given us a novel to treasure.”
ANNE SIMPSON

SMALL RECKONINGS
By Karin Melberg Schwier

Third edition
Published 2023 by Shadowpaw Press Reprise
Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada
www.shadowpawpress.com

First published 2020 by Burton House Books
Revised edition published 2021 by Copestone

This edition
Copyright © 2023 by Karin Melberg Schwier
All rights reserved

All characters and events in this book are ﬁctitious.
Any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions of this book, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted material.

Trade Paperback ISBN: 978-1-989398-74-6
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-989398-75-3

Cover and interior design by Edward Willett
Contents

RCMP CONSTABLE ALBERT DICKENSON
The Yuzik farm, near Watrous, Saskatchewan, 1935

WILLIAM
Toronto, March 1915

LOUISE
Toronto, Spring 1915

HANK
The Eckart farm, Saskatchewan, May 1915

LOUISE
The Burke farm, August 1915

WILLIAM
The Burke farm, September 1919

LOUISE
The Burke farm, February 1920

WILLIAM
The Burke farm, February 1920

LOUISE
The Burke farm, February 1920

WILLIAM
The Burke farm, February 1920

LOUISE
The Burke farm, 1920

LOUISE
The Burke farm, 19

LOUISE
The Burke farm, August 1927

VIOLET
The Burke farm, 1927

LOUISE
The schoolhouse, September 1927

WILLIAM
The Burke farm, 1927

JOHN
The Burke farm, October 1927

JOHN
The Burke farm, May 1929

VIOLET
The Burke farm, May 1929

VIOLET
Waterhole Cemetery near Watrous, May 1929

VIOLET
The Burke farm, October 1929

LOUISE
The Burke farm, November 1929

VIOLET
The Burke farm, November 1929

VIOLET
The Burke farm, August 1932

WILLIAM
The Burke farm, May 1935

VIOLET
The Burke farm, June 1935

HANK
Watrous Union Hospital, September 1935

RCMP CONSTABLE ALBERT DICKENSON
The Yuzik farm, September 1935

WILLIAM
The Burke farm, September 1935

VIOLET
The Burke farm, September 1935

HANUSIA
The Yuzik farm, September 1935

NIK
The Yuzik farm, late September 1935

HANUSIA
The Yuzik farm, late September 1935

VIOLET
The Burke farm, October 1, 1935

WILLIAM
Near Holy Trinity Ukrainian Orthodox Church, October 1935

HANK

VIOLET
On the road to town, October 1935

WILLIAM
On the road to town, October 1935

VIOLET
Watrous Union Hospital, February 1936

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Available or Coming Soon From
For Jim, Erin, Michael, Alexander,
Ben, Julia, Pearl and Dahlia.

Especially for my husband, Richard,
my most gentle, constant, and honest reader,
who said, “You can tell this story.”
I believed I could; it just took a while. I owe you one.
RCMP CONSTABLE ALBERT DICKENSON
THE YUZIK FARM, NEAR WATROUS, SASKATCHEWAN, 1935

C onstable Dickenson took off his Stetson in the doorway, slapped it against the sleeve of his brown serge, and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior of the barn. The cows looked like they’d been bunched up out at the gate for a good while, bellering, their bony spines arched and white, hoar frost on their haunches. He breathed in as much air as the dust and stench of scours would allow and took a few steps inside.
He looked up first and saw the body, then broke his gaze when a calf bleated, a pitiful thin noise off to the left. Sick and skinny, the calf stood trembling in the pen, gaping at him with sunken grey eyes. Albert took a few more steps. With the toe of his boot, he nudged the mound of bedding bunched up on a straw pile. It looked like Nik had been bunking in the barn for a time, all his meagre provisions laid out. A milk bottle, half empty. Bucket. Tin cup, plate, knife and fork, unwashed. Remnants of beans and bread crust. A mason jar that Albert bet would smell of potato wine if he were to unscrew the lid. Long johns, undershirt, wool socks hung over the stanchion. A yellow spray of scours across the end of the old quilt was dry.
The dog’s growls pulled Albert from his inventory. He moved slowly toward the dog on guard near the milk stool, lips grinned back and a low rumble in its chest. It took Albert a moment to realize the form behind the dog was Nik’s wife. Crumpled in the dirt on her knees, Hanusia had one hand clamped firmly over her mouth, the other on Nik’s boot. Her grasp made the body rotate slightly, turning Nik away from Albert and toward the back of the barn. Albert reached down and lifted the woman, stood her on her feet, and told her to take the dog and go back to the house. She looked up at him with the same sick calf stare. He pressed her shoulder gently. “Go on, now,” Albert coaxed. “I’ll take care of him. I’ll be up to the house shortly. Go on.”
Her face twisted, and a moan began deep in her throat. With a trembling hand, she clawed at the dog, grabbed it by the scruff of the neck, and pulled it toward the open barn door. Albert put a hand on the woman’s elbow, steadying her, and walked with her that far.
“No good. No. He is no good. Didko ,” Hanusia stammered. She pulled at the dog again and turned to look at the constable, her thin face now a storm of fury and confusion. Her free hand clenched into a fist, and she shook it at him. “No good! Didko ! No good!”
Albert watched her stumble across the yard with the animal. By the time she was halfway, she had begun to wail and cry out, in Ukrainian, Albert supposed. No doubt she’d be on the telephone to her sister, and the neighbour women would be rubbering on the party line. Soon, every farmer for miles would be talking about it. After what had happened to the Burke girl, Albert wondered how that child’s father would take this news. He turned and walked back into the barn. He moved aside the leg irons hanging from his duty belt. They were irrelevant now. He pulled the knife from the pocket of his trousers and opened the blade.
Nik didn’t have the look people tend to get when they hang themselves. He didn’t look scared. Not even desperate. Just ordinary, maybe a little tired, as if he was just standing there, waiting. Albert guessed there was a good two feet between Nik’s boots and the barn floor. Nik’s eyes were open. Staring. All shot through with blood, of course. That’s what happens. Not wild-eyed, though; more as if he’d given it some consideration and just preferred to get it over and done with.
WILLIAM
TORONTO, MARCH 1915

T he Toronto of 1915 seemed so much noisier, so much more congested, than William Burke remembered it being just the year before. He found his way out of the train station and gazed away from the lake toward the city. Modern buildings with tall spires had sprung up, rows of windows and columns of bricks marching upward in towers he didn’t remember being there before. It was all so tall . He felt he could do nothing but look up, pulled to a sky crisscrossed with a black tangle of power lines, streetcar cables, and plumes of factory smoke. It had been a year since he’d gone west to homestead, and he’d grown accustomed to the vast, empty prairie skies.
He pushed through the crowds coming in and leaving the train station and retreated to the base of one of the big pillars to set down his case. The commotion seemed to be caused by so many people rushing everywhere. Automobiles honked, wagons rolled by, there was the shrill tweet of a policeman’s whistle, dust rose from the earth where machinery dug and scraped the site for the new train station. This cacophony was disconcerting. He had a pulsing headache and remembered the first few nights in Saskatchewan when he couldn’t sleep for the yipping, yowling racket the coyotes made in the coulee. By the time he walked a few blocks up Yonge Street, William longed for a few minutes of prairie stillness and coyote serenade.
He felt turned around, unsure of his directions. He tipped his b