The Last Stoic
- Publisher
- Hidden Brook Press
- Initial publish date
- Jun 2011
- Category
- Historical
-
Paperback / softback
- ISBN
- 9781897475881
- Publish Date
- Jun 2011
- List Price
- $22.50
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Where to buy it
Recommended Age, Grade, and Reading Levels
- Age: 15 to 18
- Grade: 10 to 12
Description
Blurbs:
76 Words:
The Last Stoic is a story about appetite and fear, both modern and ancient. Half of the story’s narrative occurs in the time and place of the ancient Roman Empire; the other half occurs in the present-day United States, alternating from chapter to chapter. Marcus, a young man from a northern provincial border town, journeys deep into the heart of the empire and witnesses first-hand the excesses that can lead to ruin, both personal and political.”
305 Words:
The Last Stoic is a story about appetite and fear, both modern and ancient. Half of the story’s narrative occurs in the time and place of the ancient Roman Empire; the other half occurs in the present-day United States. A central conceit of the novel is that the parallels between the two eras are so strong that the narrative can continue uninterrupted as the setting shifts from historic Rome to modern America, alternating from chapter to chapter. Marcus, a young man from a northern provincial border town, journeys deep into the heart of the empire and witnesses first-hand the excesses that can lead to ruin, both personal and political. His story offers an ancient commentary on the preoccupations of our own turbulent times. Shortly after his arrival, the empire is thrown into a panic by an unprecedented barbarian attack on the capital. Suspicion and paranoia abound. A young Roman/American runaway named Patrick, disillusioned with his own life and the state of his country, becomes convinced that Marcus is a dangerous traitor. Culminating in a public accusation made by Patrick, Marcus is wrongfully imprisoned, exiled and tortured as an enemy of the state. In prison, he confronts the many contradictions he has found in his adopted home, and in himself. Throughout the story, in both eras, the writings of the philosopher-emperor Marcus Aurelius (The Meditations) insinuate themselves unexpectedly into Marcus’ life. In prison, he is saved by a chance meeting with Sextus Condianus, the “last Stoic” of the title, a cell-mate who is able to fully recite Aurelius’ words and impart their wisdom. Ultimately, it is this unanticipated and unbidden instruction that gives the young man the strength he requires to survive. It becomes evident that the words of the venerable Stoic emperor have as much relevance to our own era as they did to his.
About the author
Contributor Notes
Author Bio Note:
Morgan Wade’s first novel, The Last Stoic, made the 2012 ReLit Awards long list. His short stories and poems have been published in Canadian literary journals and anthologies, including, The New Quarterly and The Nashwaak Review. He attended the Humber School of Writing and worked with novelist Michael Helm. He lives and writes in Kingston, Ontario. For more information about Morgan Wade and Bottle and Glass please visit: http://www.morganwade.ca
Excerpt: The Last Stoic (by (author) Morgan Wade)
P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US style="FONT-SIZE: 18pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt">FONT face=Calibri>Prologue?xml:namespace prefix = "o" ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>Commodus did not notice the dusky figure lingering at the foot of the vast, marble bath, just beyond the candle glow. He was preoccupied with the parchment that Galen had presented to him earlier that evening; he spooled and unspooled it, glancing idly at the mass of script. Actually reading his late father’s journal, at this hour and in his condition, would take an effort he had no intention of summoning. He’d read as far as the second line… P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>Existimatione et recordatione genitoris mei ad verecundiam et animum viro dignum P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>excitari debeo. P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>From the reputation and remembrance of my father, modesty and a manly character. P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>…and then was content to toy with it between his meaty fingers. P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>A scuffing of sandal leather against stone echoed through the caldarium. Commodus hoisted his body from one side of the pool to the other, scanning the shadows, choking back the familiar reflux. The cylinder of goatskin buckled under his tightened grip. Tepid water, viscous with a dozen oils and perfumes, slopped unctuously between his thighs and under his buttocks as he rolled over, exacerbating the churn of his stomach. He propped himself up on the side of the bath and squinted through the wine-coloured mist filming his eyes. P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>“Who’s that? Identify yourself!” P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>The man padded forward. Candle-light flickered across his features, accentuating the lines of sinew and ridges of muscle. He gazed toward the emperor, handsome and haughty. P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>“Oh! It’s you,” sighed Commodus. Narcissus, the Nubian slave who called himself Khaleme, the emperor’s wrestling partner. He also provided massages, strigilings, spongings, and other bathing services. Marcia, his concubine, sent him up as yet another exotic dish, a dessert. He imagined how he would punish her for such presumptuousness and it caused a stir in his groin that was both faint and fleeting. P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>Commodus was in no mood for extras on this night. Earlier, he had forced down more bloody portions of that very rare roast beef than he was otherwise inclined, prodded by Marcia’s urging. It increases a man’s sexual vigour, she had effused. And then there was the array of smelly cheeses from Belgica, olives from Apulia, the hen, quail, pigeon, peacock, and ostrich eggs, sea urchins from Misenum, mussels and clams from Ostia, potted hare and venison from the forests of Germania, pickled tuna and grilled mullet from the Hispanic coast, trout and pheasant from Britannia, broiled Egyptian flamingo stuffed with figs, roast side of Umbrian boar, sow’s udder, antelope tongue, sheep stomach, calf brains. The five cups of undiluted Falernian wine that sluiced down dinner were just enough to numb his gouty toes, but they constituted no more than an average evening’s drinking. Although he had vomited twice since dinner, once more than was typical, there was none of the customary reinvigoration. At his age, stomach ache so regularly accompanied suppertime it hardly merited a mention. But this indigestion brought with it an uncommon sharpness. P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>The emperor made a sound like air escaping slowly from a bladder. P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>“Not tonight Narcissus.” P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>The slave did not withdraw. P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>“Not tonight! I’m not well!” P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>Narcissus moved forward noiselessly and with purpose, like a leopard. Commodus watched, his burly jaw-hinge slackened, muted by the unprecedented insubordination. Narcissus moved behind the emperor and he began to massage his thickly knotted shoulders. The emperor’s shock waned as waves of pleasure rolled up his neck and down his back, tension melting under the forceful manipulations. For a moment, the warm sensation spreading out from the kneading fingers held at bay the discomfort threatening from his abdomen. But within minutes the nausea swelled again and Commodus was reminded of his slave’s appalling disobedience. P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>“Narcissus!” P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>Quick fingers clenched around the emperor’s windpipe, treating him to the second great shock of the evening. P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>Commodus dropped the roll of parchment to the edge of the bath and clutched at the black, straining fingers pressing into his neck. He was larger and heavier than his assailant, but in his weakened state he was unable to resist. This was one wrestling match that the Nubian would not artfully lose. P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> The smile on the emperor’s face looked more like a grimace. He knew now why Marcia had been shoveling plate after heaping plate at him. At the time, it had seemed peculiar how no-one else had partaken of the roast beef. Now it was obvious. Poison. The extra regurgitation earlier had saved his life, temporarily. Frustrated, Marcia had sent Narcissus to finish the job. Commodus ground his teeth imagining her clandestine collaborations with the magnificent athlete, rutting with him like a bitch, by way of concluding the deal. Again, most inappropriately, he was aroused. P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>Narcissus, disgusted, poured every ounce of reserved strength into his constricting fingers. There was a loud pop of cracking vertebrae and tearing ligaments. As the oxygen dissipated from the emperor’s body, his resistance abated and he began to revert to a foetal position, crunching himself into a ball. From the emperor’s core a final chasm of fear yawned and caused an utter evacuation of his bowels. The cooling water of the bath, originally sweet with aromatics, now darkened and muddied into a foul broth. Through his diminishing consciousness, Commodus could see his father, standing on a distant hill, clad in gold armour, bathed in the warmth of a Mediterranean sun reflected and redoubled in its brilliance. The emperor began to cry the pure, unrestrained tears of a baby. In his fading reverie he called out to his father, but the distance was too great, and his words were carried away by the wind. P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>“Father,” Commodus mouthed, “forgive me.” P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>The emperor’s eyes closed and he was limp. Narcissus, having completed his task, relaxed his grip, his fingers aching with the strain of their work. He stood, bent to retrieve the crumpled parchment from the stone floor, and turned to rejoin the shadows. The mass of the emperor’s body began to sink into the thick water until, with a soft burble, he submerged. P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US style="FONT-SIZE: 16pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt">FONT face=Calibri>Chapter 1 P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>The antique volume waits for a reader, type set outmoded, stiff pages mottled, dust jacket rumpled. Unopened. Jettisoned. P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>One hundred and twenty miles into upstate New York, rolling south on Interstate 81, lulled by the unrelenting sameness of the forested edge of the Adirondacks blurring by the windscreen, Mark replayed his departure that morning. He recalled his mother’s rigid smile. And then the memory of the forgotten hardcover left on the night stand, the book that his grandfather had made a show of presenting. P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>Road signs rushed past. P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>Exit to Cicero. Syracuse 12 miles straight ahead. Off-ramps to Cato, Conquest, and Brutus to the east. Utica and Rome to the west. P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>Unusual names. Different from the blandly British names found north of the border, in the countryside that Mark had spent his childhood: Kingston, Brockville, Harrowsmith, Sydenham, Westbrook, Picton, Wellington. Conservative. Ordinary. Thoroughly Anglo-Saxon. P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>These names were exotic and evocative of far-off places. They promised adventure. They were freighted with an unmistakable yet indiscernible significance. Mark imagined taking one of these exits, to Rome, and arriving at a bright amusement park, centurions taking his parking money, galley slaves serving him fries and soda, pimpled and toga-clad teenagers taking his tickets for the chariot rides, and a gaudy Emperor presiding over enactments of gladiator games every hour between ten and four. Six Flags Ancient Rome. P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>FONT face=Calibri>He navigated the car, a 1979 Pontiac Phoenix that Mark’s younger brother Andy had busted out of the junkyard and had resuscitated with the help of his friend Budge, through the environs of Syracuse and wound his way out the other side to rejoin the interstate.
Editorial Reviews
P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">Reviews about this book:SPAN lang=EN-US style="COLOR: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri">?xml:namespace prefix = "o" ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /> P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">SPAN lang=EN-US style="COLOR: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri"> P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">SPAN lang=EN-US>Morgan has written a book that is highly original and beautifully executed. The balance between the Roman world and the modern world is maintained with skill and adroitness, and the narrative is deftly woven through both of these time periods, never faltering or losing momentum. P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">SPAN lang=EN-US> P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">SPAN lang=EN-US>The Last StoicSPAN lang=EN-US> is a fascinating, parallel look at two societies that are not, as it turns out, as different or distinct as one might think. P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">SPAN lang=EN-US> P class=MsoNormal style="TEXT-ALIGN: right; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal" align=right>SPAN lang=EN-US>Helen Humphreys P class=MsoNormal style="TEXT-ALIGN: right; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal" align=right>SPAN lang=EN-US>Author of four books of poetry and five novels. P class=MsoNormal style="TEXT-ALIGN: right; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal" align=right>Winner of the Rogers Writers' Trust Fiction Prize and the Lambda Prize for Fiction. P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal; mso-pagination: none">SPAN lang=EN-US style="FONT-SIZE: 9pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt"> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in"> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">"Sometimes the axiom that history repeats itself it can seem like deja vu, so startling are the similarities. That's what sent Morgan Wade on his way to creating his first novel, The Last Stoic, which shows the parallels between the ancient Roman Empire and former president George Bush's United States." P class=MsoNoSpacing style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="TEXT-ALIGN: right; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" align=right>Greg Burliuk P class=MsoNoSpacing style="TEXT-ALIGN: right; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" align=right>Kingston Whig-Standard P class=MsoNoSpacing style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">Reviews about his other novel, Bottle and Glass: P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">SPAN lang=EN-US style='FONT-SIZE: 12pt; COLOR: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA'> P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">SPAN lang=EN-US style='COLOR: black; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA'>Bottle and GlassSPAN lang=EN-US style='COLOR: black; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA'> is a highly original adventure story, set during the war of 1812, and framed using real taverns that once existed within the city of Kingston, Ontario. A fascinating study of escape, and a powerful history of 19th century frontier life; Bottle and Glass is a stunning achievement. P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">SPAN lang=EN-US style='COLOR: black; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA'> P class=MsoNormal style="TEXT-ALIGN: right; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal" align=right>Helen Humphreys P class=MsoNormal style="TEXT-ALIGN: right; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal" align=right>– award-winning novelist and poet laureate of Kingston, Ontario, author of six novels including, ‘SPAN lang=EN-US style='COLOR: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA'>Afterimage’,’ Coventry’, and ‘The Reinvention of Love’. P class=MsoNormal style="TEXT-ALIGN: right; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal" align=right>If you want more info on Helen you can get more info here: A title=http://www.hhumphreys.com/ href="http://www.hhumphreys.com/">http://www.hhumphreys.com/ P class=MsoNoSpacing style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US style='FONT-SIZE: 12pt; COLOR: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA'> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US>From Cornwall, England to Kingston, Ontario, Bottle and Glass takes the reader on an exciting, sometimes violent, but always realistic journey. Set in the early nineteenth century, the story involves two young men, suddenly uprooted from their homes and taken thousands of miles away. Much hardship, intrigue, and miscarriage of justice ensue, leavened with courage and romance; fidelity and friendship are tested. The author does a masterful job of engaging the reader, through his wonderful descriptions and period language, reminiscent of Patrick O'Brian and Bernard Cornwell. A rollicking read!SPAN lang=EN-US style='FONT-SIZE: 12pt; COLOR: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA'> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US> P class=MsoNoSpacing style="TEXT-ALIGN: right; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" align=right>SPAN lang=EN-US>David Anderson P class=MsoNoSpacing style="TEXT-ALIGN: right; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" align=right>SPAN lang=EN-US>– author of five novels including, ‘A Cuban Death’ and ‘Whirlwind’ P class=MsoNoSpacing style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">SPAN lang=EN-US> P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">SPAN lang=EN-US style='FONT-SIZE: 12pt; COLOR: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA'> P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">SPAN lang=EN-US>If, like me, you read historical fiction because we lack time-travel machines, you will devour Morgan Wade’s Bottle and Glass. Here’s a round-trip ticket to the War of 1812 as Canadians, kidnapped—a.k.a. “impressed”—recruits, and their wives and mothers experienced it. You’ll despair with the hero as the Crown’s officers rip him and his cousin from their family, lie sleepless with them in their hammocks aboard ship, feel their desperate hunger and thirst—for this utterly realistic novel reminds us that victuals were scanty or altogether absent for earlier generations—, taste the alcohol that drowns their many miseries, pine with them for home. Disdaining to romanticize the past, Bottle and Glass instead dramatizes the fears, disasters and petty struggles for survival when an empire’s war ensnares the innocent—and the love that vanquishes such daunting hardships. P class=MsoNormal style="TEXT-ALIGN: right; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal" align=right>SPAN lang=EN-US>Becky Akers P class=MsoNormal style="TEXT-ALIGN: right; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal" align=right>SPAN lang=EN-US>– Author of ‘Halestorm’ SPAN lang=EN-US>and ‘Abducting Arnold’ P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">SPAN lang=EN-US style='FONT-SIZE: 12pt; COLOR: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA'> P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"> P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">SPAN lang=EN-US style='COLOR: black; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA'> “Bottle and Glass is a fascinating story of adventure at sea, life in early Canada and the struggle for humanity. Wade writes a story that is sympathetic, historically compelling and has both local and universal appeal. Bottle and Glass left me both satisfied and edified.” P class=MsoNormal style="TEXT-ALIGN: right; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal" align=right>Leanne Lieberman P class=MsoNormal style="TEXT-ALIGN: right; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal" align=right>– author of Gravity, The Book of Trees, and Lauren Yanofsky Hates the HolocaustSPAN lang=EN-US style='FONT-SIZE: 12pt; COLOR: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA'>
