The Smell of Rain
- Publisher
- Renaissance Press
- Initial publish date
- Nov 2023
- Category
- Epistolary, Literary, Disabilities & Special Needs
-
Paperback / softback
- ISBN
- 9781990086502
- Publish Date
- Nov 2023
- List Price
- $22.99
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Description
Each family has their story, and each one is different, depending on who tells it. Fighting encroaching darkness, Alice chronicles her own story, one of love, loss, and learning how to piece it all back together. These deeply personal entries weave their way through past and present, spinning a kaleidoscopic and increasingly fragmented narrative.
"No matter who we are or what kind of life we lead, we are always alone in the end," writes Alice.
Both delicate and iridescent, The Smell of Rain is bound to make you think: how will you fare when you see the gossamer thread of life begin to fray?
About the author
Alyson Hope is a writer who currently lives in Montreal, the island of Tiohtià:ke - unceded land of the Kanien'kehá:ka Nation.
In 2014, Hope received her Master's Degree in literature from the Université du Québec à Chicoutimi. Based largely on ecocritical theory, her thesis examines the multi-faceted relationship between nature and the characters in John Steinbeck's East of Eden. Hope's love and respect for the natural world is what drew her to the study of ecocriticism.
The Smell of Rain, published by the brilliant folks of Renaissance Press, is Hope's debut fictional novel.
Excerpt: The Smell of Rain (by (author) Alyson Hope)
The first time that I realised that something was off was when I lost my keys. It was a few months after Elvis's death. It is not that losing my keys was exceptional, that happened often enough. What is strange is where I found them.
My keys were in the oven. The oven was off, thank goodness. The blessing, of course, was that I had also forgotten to turn on the oven.
Then I remembered having gone outside.
I trudged to the car being sure to step in my very fresh, slipper-made footprints. It was cold, and I was wearing only a thin nightdress.
There it was, on the driver's seat. My potato casserole. I grabbed for the door handle, but it was locked.
"Where the hell are my keys?"
It struck me. They were still in the oven.
Coming back outside, I was intercepted by my neighbour, May. May is a sweet girl who has lived across the street from us for as long as I can remember. Her parents had her when they were older, so when she turned 30, they gave her their house and went off to their home in sunny Florida.
"Louise?" she came closer. "Louise, aren't you cold?" She stood there at the bottom of my driveway wearing a long t-shirt and leggings. And fluffy, pink boots.
"No more or less than you are, I suppose."
"It is October. There is snow on the ground... You should be wearing a coat."
"I don't see how wearing a coat would change the fact that there is snow on the ground." I fiddled with my keys, but had trouble finding the right one in the dark.
"Louise, do you want me to call Claire? Or is Thomas is town? Or should I call Rachel?"
"That won't be necessary! It's just that I forgot my potato casserole in the front seat. I'll be right back inside when I grab it. Don't you worry about me," I said.
She looked at me strangely, nodded, then backed away.
So the first big 'event' was this one, back in October or so.
As it turns out, May did call Thomas... and Rachel, and Claire too.
The diagnosis happened pretty quickly after that.