Showing posts with label Leesa Dean. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Leesa Dean. Show all posts

Thursday, May 14, 2026

Leesa Dean, Interstitial


The latest by Krestova, British Columbia writer, educator and mentor Leesa Dean, following the short story collection Waiting for the Cyclone (Brindle & Glass, 2016) and a novella in verse, The Filling Station (Kentville NS: Gaspereau Press, 2022), as well as a couple of chapbooks, is the poetry collection Interstitial (Sackville NB: Gaspereau Press, 2026), one of a trio of recently-released collections by this new iteration of the legendary Canadian small press. Composed as a lyric of detail, both meticulous and sketched, and incorporating visual elements, Dean quilts her Interstitial with incredible precision across five numbered sections—“I. APOGEE,” “II. TRAPPINGS,” “III. THE DEEPEST KIND OF LISTENING,” “IV. INTERSTITIAL” and “V. PERIGREE”—all wrapped around the illness, loss and aftermath of her late mother. “She’s not your mother anymore,” she writes, to open the short sequence “Brace Yourself,” “my father warned as the hospital doors / flung open to reveal her final ecosystem [.]” At times, she writes her descriptions slant, confronting directly when required and skimming across an interiority, an abstract of lyric, as counterpoint, holding a fine balance between what needs to be said and what can’t be easily held. “I inherited my wildness / from the midnight sun / long,” begins the poem “L’appel du vide,” to open the second section, “lean days in a resource town / where greasy oolichan flashed / beneath the wide-toothed Skeena [.]”

I’m curious as to how a number of her poems throughout sit as block text, as though utilizing a physical constraint on her lines, almost as a kind of containment to push against that very sense of wild, or even to keep certain poems, through the rawness of her subject matter, from falling apart entirely. “She cried the first three months. latched / while sobbing.” begins the short lyric “Firecracker,” “mouth as big as her soul. / woke every hour. didn’t want to miss a / thing. I watched her every move. don’t / fuck up—not sure who I meant. two / years sober then. Still white-knuckling, / saying you saved me baby girl. how do we / quantify our saviors.” The poems of Interstitial directly confront the loss and the aftermath of her mother, the grief of a family, and family secrets that always have a way of making themselves known. It is a book of and around loss, but one of connections made, seeking to unpack and articulate details of her mother’s experience; working to solidify through writing what otherwise might have slipped entirely away. To make solid, and therefore more present, that loss, perhaps, working to unpack threads and speculations around her mother’s direct experience, as the poem “Learning to Walk,” for example, offers: “My mother is released at eighteen / months. She has lived most of her life / in hospital.” It is through Intertidal that Dean allows her mother her own agency, one that wasn’t always present, possible or even acknowledged by those around her, such as she writes as part of the extended sequence “Cripple,” that includes:

What nagymama didn’t say when she betrayed your secrets
is that you survived. You grew and thrived, became a nurse
for sick children and then had two children. The doctors
labelled your body an unfit vessel for childbearing—there
was nothing you enjoyed more than proving people
wrong. This is a trait I have inherited.

 

Monday, January 06, 2025

Touch the Donkey : new interviews with Gould, Dean, Jenks, Doller + Inniss,

Anticipating the release next week of the forty-fourth issue of Touch the Donkey [a small poetry journal], why not check out the interviews that have appeared over the past few weeks with contributors to the forty-third issue: Henry Gould, Leesa Dean, Tom Jenks, Sandra Doller and Scott Inniss.

Interviews with contributors to the first forty-two issues (more than two hundred and seventy interviews to date) remain online, including: John Levy, Taylor Brown, Grant Wilkins, Lori Anderson Moseman, russell carisse, Ariana Nadia Nash, Wanda Praamsma, Michael Harman, Terri Witek, Laynie Browne, Noah Berlatsky, Robyn Schelenz, Andy Weaver, Dessa Bayrock, Anselm Berrigan, Alana Solin, Michael Betancourt, Monty Reid, Heather Cadsby, R Kolewe, Samuel Amadon, Meghan Kemp-Gee, Miranda Mellis, kevin mcpherson eckhoff and Kimberley Dyck, Junie Désil, Micah Ballard, Devon Rae, Barbara Tomash, Ben Meyerson, Pam Brown, Shane Kowalski, Kathy Lou Schultz, Hilary Clark, Ted Byrne, Garrett Caples, Brenda Coultas, Sheila Murphy, Chris Turnbull and Elee Kraljii Gardiner, Stuart Ross, Leah Sandals, Tamara Best, Nathan Austin, Jade Wallace, Monica Mody, Barry McKinnon, Katie Naughton, Cecilia Stuart, Benjamin Niespodziany, Jérôme Melançon, Margo LaPierre, Sarah Pinder, Genevieve Kaplan, Maw Shein Win, Carrie Hunter, Lillian Nećakov, Nate Logan, Hugh Thomas, Emily Brandt, David Buuck, Jessi MacEachern, Sue Bracken, Melissa Eleftherion, Valerie Witte, Brandon Brown, Yoyo Comay, Stephen Brockwell, Jack Jung, Amanda Auerbach, IAN MARTIN, Paige Carabello, Emma Tilley, Dana Teen Lomax, Cat Tyc, Michael Turner, Sarah Alcaide-Escue, Colby Clair Stolson, Tom Prime, Bill Carty, Christina Vega-Westhoff, Robert Hogg, Simina Banu, MLA Chernoff, Geoffrey Olsen, Douglas Barbour, Hamish Ballantyne, JoAnna Novak, Allyson Paty, Lisa Fishman, Kate Feld, Isabel Sobral Campos, Jay MillAr, Lisa Samuels, Prathna Lor, George Bowering, natalie hanna, Jill Magi, Amelia Does, Orchid Tierney, katie o’brien, Lily Brown, Tessa Bolsover, émilie kneifel, Hasan Namir, Khashayar Mohammadi, Naomi Cohn, Tom Snarsky, Guy Birchard, Mark Cunningham, Lydia Unsworth, Zane Koss, Nicole Raziya Fong, Ben Robinson, Asher Ghaffar, Clara Daneri, Ava Hofmann, Robert R. Thurman, Alyse Knorr, Denise Newman, Shelly Harder, Franco Cortese, Dale Tracy, Biswamit Dwibedy, Emily Izsak, Aja Couchois Duncan, José Felipe Alvergue, Conyer Clayton, Roxanna Bennett, Julia Drescher, Michael Cavuto, Michael Sikkema, Bronwen Tate, Emilia Nielsen, Hailey Higdon, Trish Salah, Adam Strauss, Katy Lederer, Taryn Hubbard, Michael Boughn, David Dowker, Marie Larson, Lauren Haldeman, Kate Siklosi, robert majzels, Michael Robins, Rae Armantrout, Stephanie Strickland, Ken Hunt, Rob Manery, Ryan Eckes, Stephen Cain, Dani Spinosa, Samuel Ace, Howie Good, Rusty Morrison, Allison Cardon, Jon Boisvert, Laura Theobald, Suzanne Wise, Sean Braune, Dale Smith, Valerie Coulton, Phil Hall, Sarah MacDonell, Janet Kaplan, Kyle Flemmer, Julia Polyck-O’Neill, A.M. O’Malley, Catriona Strang, Anthony Etherin, Claire Lacey, Sacha Archer, Michael e. Casteels, Harold Abramowitz, Cindy Savett, Tessy Ward, Christine Stewart, David James Miller, Jonathan Ball, Cody-Rose Clevidence, mwpm, Andrew McEwan, Brynne Rebele-Henry, Joseph Mosconi, Douglas Barbour and Sheila Murphy, Oliver Cusimano, Sue Landers, Marthe Reed, Colin Smith, Nathaniel G. Moore, David Buuck, Kate Greenstreet, Kate Hargreaves, Shazia Hafiz Ramji, Erín Moure, Sarah Swan, Buck Downs, Kemeny Babineau, Ryan Murphy, Norma Cole, Lea Graham, kevin mcpherson eckhoff, Oana Avasilichioaei, Meredith Quartermain, Amanda Earl, Luke Kennard, Shane Rhodes, Renée Sarojini Saklikar, Sarah Cook, François Turcot, Gregory Betts, Eric Schmaltz, Paul Zits, Laura Sims, Stephen Collis, Mary Kasimor, Billy Mavreas, damian lopes, Pete Smith, Sonnet L’Abbé, Katie L. Price, a rawlings, Suzanne Zelazo, Helen Hajnoczky, Kathryn MacLeod, Shannon Maguire, Sarah Mangold, Amish Trivedi, Lola Lemire Tostevin, Aaron Tucker, Kayla Czaga, Jason Christie, Jennifer Kronovet, Jordan Abel, Deborah Poe, Edward Smallfield, ryan fitzpatrick, Elizabeth Robinson, nathan dueck, Paige Taggart, Christine McNair, Stan Rogal, Jessica Smith, Nikki Sheppy, Kirsten Kaschock, Lise Downe, Lisa Jarnot, Chris Turnbull, Gary Barwin, Susan Briante, derek beaulieu, Megan Kaminski, Roland Prevost, Emily Ursuliak, j/j hastain, Catherine Wagner, Susanne Dyckman, Susan Holbrook, Julie Carr, David Peter Clark, Pearl Pirie, Eric Baus, Pattie McCarthy, Camille Martin and Gil McElroy.

The forthcoming forty-fourth issue features new writing by: Miles Austin, J-T Kelly, Naomi Cohn, Alice Burdick, Melissa Eleftherion, Jennifer Firestone + Catriona Strang.

And of course, copies of the first forty-two issues are still very much available. Why not subscribe?

Included, as well, as part of the above/ground press annual subscription! Which you should get right now for 2025! Our thirty-second year! Gadzooks!

We even have our own Facebook group. It’s remarkably easy.


Thursday, February 06, 2020

new from above/ground press: Dean, Baus, McCulloch, Tracy, Touch the Donkey #24 + G U E S T #8 (eds. Siklosi + Spinosa,

The Desert of Itabira
Leesa Dean
$5

See link here for more information

Euphorbia
Eric Baus
$5

See link here for more information

Certain Humans
Ian McCulloch
$5

See link here for more information

The Mystery of Ornament
Dale Tracy
$4

See link here for more information

Touch the Donkey [a small poetry journal] #24
featuring new poems by: Mark Cunningham, Lydia Unsworth, Zane Koss, Nicole Raziya Fong, Ben Robinson, Asher Ghaffar, Clara Daneri and Ava Hofmann.
$8

See link here for more information

G U E S T [a journal of guest editors] #8
edited by Kate Siklosi and Dani Spinosa
featuring new work by: Clara Daneri, Dessa Bayrock, Brian Dedora, Marilyn R. Rosenberg, Hart Broudy, Amanda Earl, Logan K. Young, Genevieve Kaplan, K.S. Ernst, Sacha Archer, M. NourbeSe Philip, Katherine Heigh, Catherine Bennett, psw and Angela Caporaso
$5 + postage / + $1 for Canadian orders; + $2 for US; + $6 outside of North America

See link here for more information


keep an eye on the above/ground press blog for author interviews, new writing, reviews, upcoming readings and tons of other material;

published in Ottawa by above/ground press
January 2020
a/g subscribers receive a complimentary copy of each


To order, send cheques (add $1 for postage; in US, add $2; outside North America, add $5) to: rob mclennan, 2423 Alta Vista Drive, Ottawa ON K1H 7M9. E-transfer or PayPal at at rob_mclennan (at) hotmail.com or the PayPal button (above). Scroll down here to see various backlist titles (many, many things are still in print) or click on any of the extensive list of names on the sidebar.

Review copies of any title (while supplies last) also available, upon request. AND 2020 SUBSCRIPTIONS ARE TOTALLY STILL AVAILABLE!

Forthcoming 2020 chapbooks by Franco Cortese, Andrew Cantrell, Ashley Yang-Thompson + Mikko Harvey, J.R. Carpenter, George Stanley, Anthony Etherin, Guy Birchard, Amanda Deutch, Melissa Eleftherion, Stan Rogal, Razielle Aigen, Rachel Kearney, Leesa Dean, Zane Koss and Barry McKinnon, as well as another issue of G U E S T [a journal of guest editors] edited by Jenny Penberthy (#9), further issues of Touch the Donkey [a small poetry journal] and maybe even a new issue of The Peter F. Yacht Club!

Just what other gloriousness might above/ground press' 27th year bring?

Saturday, November 12, 2016

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Leesa Dean



Leesa Dean is a graduate of the University of Guelph’s creative Writing MFA program and a full-time Creative Writing and English instructor at Selkirk College in Nelson, BC. Her short story collection, Waiting for the Cyclone, was published by Brindle and Glass this October.

How did your first book change your life? How does your most recent work compare to your previous? How does it feel different?
Waiting for the Cyclone is my first book so it’s difficult to compare with previous work unless I consider the “Allie the Alien” series I self-published at age 8. Actually, let’s compare that for fun. At age 8, I was really into drastic narrative arcs, action and fanfare. Someone needed to save the world or be a hero, otherwise there was no story. Now I’m interested in the other end of the spectrum. I don’t want to call the women in my collection anti-heroes, because they’re not, but they certainly aren’t heroes, and they’re definitely not saving the world.

This book is both a beginning and an end—it’s coming at the end of a string of important life events for me that include finishing a Master’s degree, moving across the country, starting a teaching career in Creative Writing and committing to a geographical location for the first time. But actually finishing a project, something I’ve traditionally struggled with, gives me confidence that this is the beginning of what I hope will be a long writing career.

Perhaps the biggest shift, though, is having an audience. I mean, it’s still small—a handful of friends and reviewers—but on October 4th, this book becomes public domain. In certain ways, I feel like I’m waiting for the cyclone. Will people like it? Will I care if they don’t? I generally subscribe to an “I don’t give a f*#k” attitude, but for some reason, this feels different.

How long does it take to start any particular writing project? Does your writing initially come quickly, or is it a slow process? Do first drafts appear looking close to their final shape, or does your work come out of copious notes?
My writing life is an untameable beast. I have basically no control over it. Certain stories take three hours to be almost fully formed and others take seven years. I wish I could wrangle that aspect of my existence into some sort of coherent, predictable form, but I suppose the chaos balances out my more structured life as a full-time professor.

Where does a work of fiction or non-fiction usually begin for you? Are you an author of short pieces that end up combining into a larger project, or are you working on a "book" from the very beginning?
This particular book is a pastiche of well thought out plots and absolute flukes. Some of the stories come from my life—I did have an aunt, one I loved, who was stealing pharmaceuticals and shooting them at night while upholding her façade as a wonderful mother, and my own mother had a heart attack just like the woman in the story titled One Last Time. I’ve travelled to all the places I wrote about, and a lot of these stories began with the town/city as the main character. But other plot elements and characters came to me unannounced, unexpectedly. In the book’s title story, for example, there’s a deaf woman who looks like a German soldier and her deaf husband, a thin black man with brassy curls and one pierced ear. Every time I read that story, I think, where did they come from? I’ve never met anyone like them in my life.

Do you have any theoretical concerns behind your writing? What kinds of questions are you trying to answer with your work? What do you even think the current questions are?
I absolutely have theoretical concerns. As a writer and a woman, I’m very interested in how certain women are rebelling against traditional gender roles. I grew up in a nuclear family, created from two nuclear families, with the unspoken expectation that I should one day grow up and have my own nuclear family. My mother had a job for a while, but a lot of her life was spent being a housewife. She didn’t have any of her own money and spent so much of her time indoors, cooking and cleaning. She is emblematic of so many women from too many eras.

My mother was rebellious in her own way—she was mouthy and liked to yell at my father. She loved him, yes. She loved being a mother. But I’m not convinced she loved all the constrictions that came with the lifestyle. The women in my collection are engaged in similar struggles, but overall, they take more drastic actions. They lie. They cheat. They abandon their children to do yoga retreats in India or fake volunteer work to go on romantic rendez-vous behind their husband’s backs. They leave their unwanted babies on church doorsteps. Are they terrible people? Yes. A lot of them are. My characters have often been called “unlikeable.” One reviewer called them “unworthy of sympathy,” which kind of broke my heart. I have a lot of empathy for these women because so many of them are trapped in a system, a type of romance that is gender-biased and potentially damaging, and the only way they know how to rebel is to lash out.

What do you see the current role of the writer being in larger culture? Does s/he even have one? What do you think the role of the writer should be?
I think that writers individually determine what role they will play in the larger culture. I’m thinking now of George Orwell’s essay, “Why I Write,” in which he identifies four reasons why people write—sheer egoism, aesthetic enthusiasm, historical impulse and political purpose. The essay is from 1946, but these categories still make sense to me. We need aestheticians, historicists, and rabble rousers. I have so much respect for writers who make an effort to question norms and challenge antiquated systems of thought like patriarchy and racism, whether they do so through fiction or creative non-fiction or journalism, but I also appreciate lighter books that I can, say, read on a beach or before bed without crying myself to sleep because of all the hard things they unearth.

What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
A few years ago, while eating Chinese food on Christmas Day in Toronto, I received this fortune in my cookie: trust your intuition. I still carry the message in my wallet.

How easy has it been for you to move between genres (poetry to fiction to non-fiction)? What do you see as the appeal?
I love moving between genres! Seriously, it’s one of my favourite sensations, and it’s something I always try to teach my students, that form is fluid. Sometimes I’ll start writing a story and realize it’s too wordy and would be just fabulous as a narrative poem. I’ve also written poems and felt a story pushing at the boundaries, at which point I take out the line breaks and see where things go. You just have to trust your intuition and let the work be what it wants to be.

What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one? How does a typical day (for you) begin?
My day definitely does not begin with writing. It never has. My imagination starts to come alive around 8 PM, and my very best writing hours are from 10 PM until 2 AM, which drives the man I live with crazy—he’s a Chinese medicine practitioner and says my organs are trying to regenerate during that time and I am doomed to forever be scatterbrained if I keep staying up so late.  Typically my day begins when I hear this same man boiling the kettle downstairs. My bedroom is a loft with no walls—I hear everything, and it’s a good thing most of the time. It gets me out of bed and reminds me that I’m part of a larger community. It helps me stay human.

When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
Whenever I’m writing, I have four or five books around me that I know I can count on for inspiration. Two of them never change. I always have Bronwen Wallace’s poetry collection Common Magic open as well as Denis Johnson’s short story collection Jesus’Son. More often than not, there will also be a Lisa Moore book. The other books vary depending on what I’m working on. What Denis Johnson and Bronwen Wallace have in common is they both write/wrote fiction as well as poetry. I don’t know how I would get anything done without those books. They sit on my desk, radiating their power.

David W. McFadden once said that books come from books, but are there any other forms that influence your work, whether nature, music, science or visual art?
Travel has been a huge influence—seeing new colours, people, problems, eating new food, standing on new mountains and shorelines. Music is a wonderful influence as well, which will become obvious when reading my book. There are lots of music references in the stories and what I like to think of as the traces of a certain musicality, living inside my words. Film is also an influence, which is why I decided to make a promotional book trailer that is more like a very short film than anything else. You can check it out here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vJlUxCrCaQs

What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
So many things! Build a cabin. Live on a sailboat. Cycle through France. Hike the Appalachian Trail. Learn to play the sitar. I could go on and on.

What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
Honestly? I’m happiest when I’m writing, so in the spirit of hedonism, I choose to pursue that which brings me the most pleasure.

What are you currently working on?
At the moment, I am working on a poetry project called Manuelzinho. I started the collection six years ago, almost seven now, while completing my undergraduate degree at Concordia University in Montreal. The first poem I ever published was from that project, and you blogged about it, rob. While in grad school I focused mostly on fiction and I forgot about the Manuelzinho poems completely until Vicki Zeigler posted a link to your blog on Twitter earlier this year as part of her “poem of the day” project.

My reunion with the manuscript has been a happy one. I’m totally in love with the character, Manuelzinho, who is a totally fucked Brazilian man who does things like set his house on fire because he thinks it’s possessed by a cucaracha with moth-like wings. His entire world is strange, and his family too—his father’s out of his mind and wears shirts with buttons made of hound teeth. They are both such train wrecks, even worse behaved than the rowdiest women in Waiting for the Cyclone.

Monday, July 25, 2011

headlight anthology 14

For this 14th edition, we wanted to join the voice of Concordia's student body to those of other schools nationwide. We sent out a call for unsettling and curious writing and were impressed by the diversity and skill with which the authors approached this theme. Thank you to all the writers who submitted, and who allowed us to explore the slightly disturbed reaches of their imagination.
I recently received a copy of headlight anthology 14, put together by an editorial group led by editors-in-chief Sabrina Lightstone and Caitlin Stall-Paquet. As much as I enjoy the occasional theme issue, I'm not sure if the Concordia University annual headlight anthology, now in its fourteenth year, was necessarily the place for such a theme of outsiders, and predominantly since the publication is only annual. Do we now have to wait another year to see what students in and around the creative writing department at Montreal's Concordia University are doing? Part of what has always attracted me to this publication (I think I'm only missing the first couple of issues) has been precisely through the opportunity to read some newer Montreal-based writers that I might not have seen (yet), otherwise. Yet, their editorial choice for a theme, on one hand, and stretching open submissions across to other universities, on the other, is an intriguing one; what might other students in other centres be writing, from their spaces including programs (whether Regina, Guelph, Victoria or Calgary) or not (Ottawa)? Unfortunately, I worry that the theme and the open call takes away exactly what makes these anthologies so great: publishing the best writing from students in and around the creative writing program at Concordia. There are some interesting pieces here (the last line of Leesa Dean's “Manuelzinho #2 (found)” is quite startling), but on the whole, the issue doesn't really sing. headlight anthology is supposed to sing. Why doesn't it sing?
Manuelzinho #2 (found)

You say they're burying him today.

Your father:
a fistful of endless superiority
a honeycombed conspirator with no friends
suddenly dead in the kitchen
beside the stove
pants down
potatoes in a triangle at his feet
dead from poisoned cabbage
and you think it's funny.

I give you money for the funeral.
You buy a pound with it
so I hand over more
but you come again,
sniffling and shivering.

You are the strangest blueprint of a father
a thread
a pump gone dry
a sodden grandfather in your thirties
the worst gardener since Cain.