Born With A Tooth
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Almost a decade after its original publication, award winner and Governor General Literary Award nominee Joseph Boyden's classic book of short stories is finally being reissued. Born With A Tooth, Boyden's debut work of fiction, is a collection of thirteen beautifully written stories about aboriginal life in Ontario. They are stories of love, unexpected triumph, and a passionate belief in dreams. They are also stories of anger and longing, of struggling to adapt, of searching but remaining unfulfilled. The collection includes 'Bearwalker', a story that introduces a character who appears again in Boyden's novel Three Day Road. By taking on a new voice in each story, Joseph Boyden explores aboriginal stereotypes and traditions in a most unexpected way. Whether told by a woman trying to forget her past or by a drunken man trying to preserve his culture, each story paints an unforgettable and varied image of modern aboriginal culture in Ontario. An extraordinary first book, Born With A Tooth reveals why Joseph Boyden is a writer worth reading.
guitar on and turning up the volume knob. “Yeah!” Tina shouted. “We’ve got new stuff. We’ll play that along with our best old songs. We’ll kick ass.” Jenny hadn’t seen those two so excited since the night of the show eleven years ago where the whole club had become a giant mosh pit. Tables and chairs were smashed that night; the audience bruised and battered themselves. The police eventually arrived and shut the show down. The band had never been happier. “What do you say, Anne?” Jenny asked.
fingers and left his hands too sore at night to hold a paintbrush. Most lunch breaks he’d go to whatever tavern was closest to drink beer and talk to Painted Tongue. Painted Tongue remembered those days with good feelings. Those afternoons when he first started drinking were warmer with a belly full of beer, his eyes focused only on the nails to be pounded or joists to be cut and fit or the shingles to be pulled and replaced. He and Kyle had been thrown off many jobs for being drunk, but there
T-shirt. “Don’t use that,” Edwin says, standing behind him. “That’s my new shirt.” Crow walks to the kitchen and pulls a Northern Store plastic bag from the cupboard. He opens the gas can and pours a good amount on the shirt, Edwin whining, then places the shirt in the bag. He hyper-breathes into this new bag until he falls flat on his back, like he’s been hit in the forehead with a long board. When he is feeling able, Crow goes through Edwin’s four-room house, looking. Edwin follows, acting
present, got up as quickly as her body would allow, her eyes wide with concern, and waddled after Sister Jane, no doubt to console her. SEPTEMBER 13 I witnessed quite an extraordinary event today. As I waited with Mary Cheechoo for Linda’s body to arrive in the little charter plane, people began showing up. Some walked, some who had cars drove, others pulled up on ATVs. By the time the plane landed I would estimate that pretty much all of the reserve had gathered, waiting by the portable that
twenty-five balls and both are won. There’s so many cards out there tonight, house odds are way down. When I call intermission before the big one, a line forms at the cashier box. The jackpot is actually three games in one. The best we can hope to fork out is $7,000. A grand for the first person to get One Line Anywhere, another grand for Four Corners and, if we’re real lucky, only $5,000 for the jackpot. Most are already in their chairs when I call them to play. Every other person has a smoke