The Story Behind the Story with Author Diana Stevan of West Vancouver, BC, Canada.

 

One of our most popular guests is back. Say hello to Diana.

 

It’s always a treat to have her join us. She launched her newest book yesterday, March 15^th and everyone is talking about it. 

I look forward to reading it. 

Diana has been here before and if you missed her last visit, please go HERE. 

 

Diana Stevan jokes she’s a Jill of all trades. She’s worked as a family therapist, teacher, librarian, model, actor, and CBC television sports reporter. She’s published poetry, a short story, newspaper articles, a novelette, and five novels: A Cry from The Deep, The Rubber Fence, Sunflowers Under Fire (a finalist for the 2019 Whistler Independent Book Award), and the sequels, Lilacs in the Dust Bowl, and Paper Roses on Stony Mountain (on Miramichi Readers’ List of Best Fiction for 2022). Her latest book Along Came A Gardener (non-fiction) is an inspirational book weaving her experiences working in mental health with her love of gardening. It launched March 15, 2025. She lives on Vancouver Island with her husband, Robert.

 

Title:  ALONG CAME A GARDENER

Synopsis:
From the author of the award-winning Sunflowers Under Fire, comes an inspirational book with personal memories and stories from the world of mental health. Along Came A Gardener is based on the thoughts and ideas the author Diana Stevan gleaned from her 25 years as a family therapist combined with those she found working in her garden. Stevan shows us that even when life looks grim, there are tools we can use to meet its challenges and move toward a better future. This book explores the nature of loving relationships and the lessons Nature provides in our backyards and beyond.

The Story Behind the Story:  

Along Came A Gardener covers my 25 years of working as a family therapist and more. The people I saw in counselling or therapy were varied, from all walks of life and backgrounds. I counselled individuals, couples, and families, and even did some trauma work with bank employees after a robbery. It was rewarding work and surprisingly, mutually beneficial.  The people who came for counselling taught me a lot as well. And over the years, I discovered that Nature also has much to contribute. Nature shows us daily how to live in harmony and how well its vegetation thrives when it’s cared for.

Because I’ve worked in so many different mental health settings, I share stories about those who’ve dealt with addiction, depression, guilt, grief, marital and family conflict, and other emotional pain. Woven in are thoughts on anger management, stress reduction, and other ways to calm our minds and lift our spirits.

I’m hoping readers will find inspiration within its pages, and if they’ve ever had questions about the value of psychotherapy, I hope they find the answers there as well.

WHAT INSPIRED ME:

I had thought about writing this book back in the late 1970s, but I’m glad I didn’t. I wasn’t ready. I had been inspired to write it after a high school student, who I’d seen for counselling wrote me a beautiful poem, called The Seed of Hope. Though a bright student, she was failing and had attempted suicide. More of how I helped her and how she inspired me is included in the excerpt below.

Diana's Website - please go HERE.

A question before you go, Diana:

Scribbler: What is the ideal spot for you when you write your stories? Music in the background or quiet. Coffee or tequila? Messy or neat?

Diana: I’m thankful I have a room in the house that serves as my office. Because of back issues, I have a sit-stand desk, which has been a godsend. And though I love music (who doesn’t?), I like quiet when I’m writing. Coffee is my drink of choice in the morning and lemon ginger tea after that. Though I like a neat desk, it invariably gets messy and I have to take time every so often to get it back under control.

An Excerpt from Along Came A Gardener

THE SEED OF HOPE

It's important to note that our capacity for growth is greater than we think. Neuroscientists have discovered that our brains keep growing and stabilize in early adulthood. Our brains continue to develop new neurons even in our eighties as long as we keep challenging ourselves intellectually and socially. Just as we learned in school that we can succeed if we apply ourselves, it is also true we can better our lives through self-examination, therapy, and other forms of knowledge. We all experience bumps in the road. Some seem insurmountable, but it’s not always the case. That’s when hope has a role to play.

Early in my counselling career, I worked for the Child Guidance Clinic in Winnipeg. As a clinical social worker (and later school psychologist), I visited schools and talked to classroom teachers, guidance counsellors, and special education instructors. School personnel referred children who were showing signs that all was not well in their lives. These were students who displayed aggressive tendencies or showed an inability to engage with others, which was especially worrisome if they were teens who could be at risk for suicide. Sometimes, that meant I would see the student alone in the guidance counsellor’s office; other times, I’d arrange to meet with the student and their parents at their home or the clinic.

On one occasion, a high school guidance counsellor referred two sisters, who were gifted academically and artistically but failing miserably. One was an exceptional violinist; the other a talented poet who had attempted suicide. Their mother had been diagnosed with schizophrenia. Following the referral, I made a home visit to assess the family dynamics.

After meeting with the family, I had a better understanding of what the two sisters faced daily. Their father had a responsible executive position that took him away from home for long periods, leaving the three females of the household to work things out on their own. When the sisters came home from school, they never knew what mood they’d find their mother in. One minute, she was loving, and the next, she lashed out for little or no reason. Meanwhile, their father was of little help when he was home; he was a passive man, trying to hold on to his sanity. Given the mother’s mental illness, family therapy was not practical.

Instead, I met with both sisters and listened while they poured out their problems. They complained about feeling rejected by their mother. They could do no right.

As we know, adolescence is a time for developing a sense of self and gaining more independence. However, adolescents still need their parents’ support while they find their way.

The older sister kept expecting her mother to behave as she thought a mother should by showing love, warmth, and understanding. Given her mother’s mental illness, her expectations were unrealistic. But who could blame her for wanting her mother’s love? We all want our mother’s love; we all need it.

It’s not clear how much their mother loved them. She may have loved them dearly but was unable to show it. She appeared stiff and remote, unable to engage. She could’ve been so preoccupied with her own existence that nothing else registered. Either way, the girls couldn’t get the love they wanted. They kept trying to no avail. All they got for their efforts was an erosion of self, which added to their depression.

I empathized and reassured them that, given their mother’s emotional challenges and erratic behaviour, it wasn’t surprising they were having a hard time at school. In crisis, they couldn’t see the personal resources they could draw on. We discussed strategies for dealing with someone unpredictable. Lowering expectations of their mother helped them step back and see how they could diffuse potentially volatile moments.

Rather than trying to change the people who are important to us, we need to look at what we can do differently about our situation. This way, we take responsibility for our own lives. We find the power within ourselves. The eldest sister did just that, and months later, wrote me the following poem. She gave me permission to share it with you.

The Seed of Hope

They had left me behind
but I did not mind,
for I was content
to live in darkness
and solitude.
No one there to hurt,
no one to start a feud,
no one there to rule me,
somewhere I could be free
I had all the comforts and food to survive;
yet I began to question why I was alive?
I began to shrivel up within and die,
when the gardener happened by.
Most would have thrown me to the wind, as he;
the prey of a ravenous chickadee.
But it was his wife, who reasoned
that it was just patience in need,
for the revival of life,
the emergence of seed.
No matter which direction
I tried to move
the walls of earth kept crumbling in;
it seemed impossible to win.
My world had become corrupt.
My only escape was up.
I hesitated below the surface,
fearing what lay ahead,
afraid I would not find a plow;
abandoned instead.
My determination was stronger than my fear
So I continued more excited
as I grew near.
As I broke through the earth
and met the sunlight,
my heart took to flight
for I’d found rebirth.
Though the tears of heaven
may splash against my face,
weeds try to win my place,
the wind whip and lash me
to the ground,
the sun wither my every leaf
I have faith, it is my belief.
That I can grow,
I have the resources to cope.
for I began below
from a simple seed of Hope.

There are many gardeners out there who are willing and able to plant these seeds of hope. From family members, friends, doctors, priests, ministers, rabbis, imams, counsellors, and psychiatrists to the neighbour next door.

But the seeds we plant in our garden can’t do the work on their own. They need our help; they need nutrients, sun, water, and a decent environment. They need us to nurture the planted seed.

Besides finding empathic gardeners, we can also find the gardeners within when we work to improve our lives. Faith—in others, ourselves, and/or a higher power—can lead us on the path to recovery from the hurts we’ve experienced.

Thank you, Allan, for the opportunity to discuss my upcoming book, Along Came A Gardener. I've been looking forward to the launch on March 15th. It’ll be available for sale on all the bookseller sites.

You are most welcome, Diana. And I thank you for being our guest this week. We wish you continued success with your writing.

A SPECIAL THANK YOU to all out visitors and readers.

Please tell us what's on your mind in the comment section below. Thank you.

The Story Behind the Story with Author Luke Beirne of Saint John, NB, Canada.

 Let’s welcome Luke to the Scribbler.

 

Luke is another newcomer to our blog and he is most welcome.

He is just coming from a successful book launch at 

The Write Cup in Saint John, NB.

He is also a participating author at the GMRD Book Fair in April.

We are most fortunate to have him as a guest to tell us about his novel.

Plus an Excerpt.

Read on my friends.

 

 

 

 

Luke Francis Beirne was born in Ireland in 1995 and now lives on the Wolastoqey land of Saint John, New Brunswick. His first two novels, Foxhunt and Blacklion, were published by Baraka Books in 2022 and 2023 respectively. Saints Rest will be published by Baraka in March 2025. Beirne’s writing has been stylistically compared to Graham Greene, Frederick Forsyth, Ernest Hemingway and John le Carre.

 

 

Title: Saints Rest

 

Synopsis:

Malory Fleet’s son was killed by bikers and now she’s worried about his missing girlfriend, Amanda. But that case was closed shut by the police a year ago and Frank Cain, the private investigator she’s hired, is reluctant to take it on. On the sometimes seedy streets of uptown Saint John, no one wants to talk, even fewer have anything to say, and the police have cast a blanket of fog over everything. As Frank searches fruitlessly for clues, he learns more about Malory than about Amanda, and begins to grow wary. Throughout, Detective Stuart Boucher is following Frank and making little effort to hide it, leading Cain to conclude that the officer may have more to do with the case than he’s letting on. For Frank Cain, as unmoored as a lost ship in the harbour, in unravelling this case he risks unravelling himself.

 

Saints Rest is a neo-noir novel set in a gritty and unforgiving Saint John, a town where few people are prepared for its secrets, least of all Frank Cain.

 

 

The Story Behind the Story:

In September 2022, I suffered a life-threatening brain injury while boxing and spent five weeks in a coma. I had to retrain my body to do everything, from moving my fingers to walking. While I was in a coma, my second novel, Blacklion, was accepted for publication by Baraka Books. With incredible difficulty and determination, I trained myself to write again. Before I was able to structure my own days, my partner would hand me a pen and notebook and ask me to write. My father, who is also a writer, was amazed to see how well my writing had stayed intact, despite the severity of my injury. I worked with a great Speech Language Pathologist, at the Stan Cassidy Centre in Fredericton, who helped me with this. After my release, I structured my days, setting aside specific times to sit down and write. I also followed online writing courses diligently. Before my injury, I had a rough draft of this book, which gave me something to focus on as I relearned how to write. As a result, this is the book I am most proud of so far.

 

Website: Please go HERE.

A question before you go, Luke:

Scribbler: Where is your favourite spot to write? Are you messy or neat? Your beverage of choice?

Luke: At home or the Saint John Free Public Library.
I am neat.
A deep, dark roast coffee, black.

An article in yesterday's (March 8) newspaper in Saint John.

An Excerpt from Saints Rest. 

In Saint John, sunshine was rare. When day broke, the sky turned grey and shards of light glared through to front steps where people huddled and smoked, to dockyards where people worked, to park benches where people slept. In the city’s peripheries––the east and west––people sat in breakfast nooks and morning rooms, and maybe the sun shone there, rising over pine-crested cliffs and frozen bays as bacon sizzled in the pan and accounts were discussed, as affairs ended in lawsuits and bitter resentment rather than fistfights and broken windows; but, in the heart, Saint John woke when the light shifted and darkness retreated behind the clouds, distant but ever-present, looming over the uneven rise of flat-top roofs.

​In our office, Randy and I were wide awake. I hunched over a space heater beside the corner window with a double double and a folder of surveillance photos suggesting that Dustin Colter could walk on his left foot and was, therefore, ineligible for worker’s comp. Randy sat at his desk writing up the delicate details of an infidelity case.

​Our office was on the third floor of a townhouse on Princess Street. The ceilings were tall and the windows narrow. From the corner, you could see over the curve of the road to the plateau of the harbour, where the fog gathered and rolled. 

​Below was the South End. Cannery Row, by another name. In the South End, people were real; ghostly demarcations kept apparitions at bay. I sipped the coffee and looked out. It wasn’t good but it was familiar. 

​Footsteps in the hallway stopped in front of the door, drawing a slouching silhouette behind the glass. When the door opened, a woman stood in front of us. Looking forty or way past it, she had distinct smile lines at the upper edge of her mouth, though it didn’t appear that they’d had much exercise lately. 

​The woman was worn, beaten. She wore an old, fur lined puffer coat: once expensive, now stained and torn. 

​“Can I help you, ma’am?” Randy asked. He set down his pen, looking her up and down as he did.

​The woman glanced at me, then back to Randy. “Is this the Cormier Agency?” She spoke with the rasp of a lifelong smoker.

​Randy couldn’t help but smile. “It is,” he said. He closed the file on his desk. “I’m Randy Cormier. Come on in.”

​Randy was a good guy. I felt a kind of obligation to him because I was his first employee and he hired me before we even met. The woman looked at me again and closed the door. She was nervous.

​Randy gestured to the chair in front of his desk. “Take a seat.” She began to unzip her jacket but he lifted his hand. “You might want to leave your coat on,” he said. “Landlord controls the heat.”

​She sat down and folded her arms in her lap, pulling the palms of her hands into her sleeves. Yellow fingertips protruded from the ends.

​“What can we do for you?” Randy asked.

​I set my coffee on the spare desk in the corner and sat behind it. I opened the folder and began to sort through the photos inside. When Randy’s at work, I like to fade into the background. That’s where I feel most comfortable, the background. 

​“My daughter in law is missing,” the woman said. 

​“Ok. When was she last seen?” Randy asked. 

​“Over a year ago.”

​Randy nodded. He opened the top drawer of his desk and took out a thin black binder. He flipped to an empty sheet. “I’m going to start taking some notes,” he said, “in case we open a file. I won’t charge you unless we take you on.”

​She nodded.

​“What’s your name?” Randy began, filling in the blanks at the top of the sheet. 

​“Malory Fleet.”

​I looked up. I did not know Malory but I knew her name. More importantly, I knew the case she was bringing us.

​In 2015, on the night of Halloween, her son Jason Fleet was shot to death outside his apartment. No charges were ever laid. Jason was not much missed by the Saint John Police Department. One year to the day, his girlfriend, Amanda Foster, was reported missing.

​For a while, the coincidence brought attention to the case. Then it faded into obscurity, relegated to unsolved mystery forums and half-hearted Facebook posts appealing for information.

​Randy glanced over at me and then returned his gaze to the woman. “And your daughter in law is?”

​“Amanda Foster.”

​Randy set down his pen. “So, they’ve had no luck then?”

​“The police don’t give a shit. They’re crooked,” Malory said. “That’s why I’m here.” 

​“Are you in contact with her family?”

​“You’re looking at her family.”

​Randy nodded. “Ok,” he said. “Malory, listen. A missing family member is usually an easy enough case, a simple matter of asking around. An investigation like this though, with the complicating factors––your son, the ongoing investigation, the police––it could get complicated. It might take a lot of time.” He paused. “It might be expensive.”

​“You don’t think I can afford it.”

​“That’s no reflection of yourself,” Randy said, exhaling loudly. “I don’t think I could afford it.” 

​Malory shrugged. “Cut me loose when my cheques bounce.”

​For a while, Randy just looked at her, contemplating. Then he nodded. “Ok,” he said. “Let’s open a file. Talk to me.”

 

"Excerpt reproduced with the permission of Baraka Books"

Thank you for being our guest this week, Luke. We wish you continued success with your writing.

And a BIG thank you to all out visitors and readers.

Feel free to leave a comment below.

The Story Behind the Story with Author Bernard Bourque of New Brunswick, Canada.

 Let’s welcome another newcomer to the Scribbler.

I met Bernard at a book event. There was a crowd around his table interested in his books. Now he’s here to tell us about one in  particular.

He will also be participating in the GMRD Book Fair in April.

I know you will enjoy meeting him, so please read on my friends.

 

 

Bernard J. Bourque, PhD, was born and raised in Sackville, New Brunswick. He is an Adjunct Senior Lecturer at the University of New England (Australia) and is the author of eight scholarly books and numerous peer-reviewed journal articles in the field of seventeenth-century French literature. His fictional works include the novels in the Mr. Louis trilogy (Mr. Louis, The Shock Reader, and Upper-Case G) and the novels in the Lupine trilogy (To Pick a Lupine, A Tale of Three Lupines, and Corfu Seductions). The primary setting of the six novels is Campobello Island (New Brunswick), where Bernard lived for thirteen years. His historical play Friend of the King deals with the Acadian deportation and the story of the Loyalists. He has acted in a number of theatrical productions and appeared as a background actor in the feature film To Keep the Light (2016; filmmaker Erica Fae), in the television series Frontier (2016; Netflix and Discovery), and in the television series Mont-Rouge (2024: Ici Télé - Radio-Canada). A strong advocate of literacy, Bernard is a past chair of the New Brunswick Public Libraries Board and a past chair of the Campobello Public Library Board. He now lives in Riverview, New Brunswick, with his wife, Sandra.

 

Title: To Pick a Lupine (Book 1 in the Lupine trilogy)

Synopsis: A moving and delightfully cozy mystery about a purportedly haunted estate on picturesque Campobello Island. Romeo Peppercorn III—young, awkward, and financially independent—has purchased a long-abandoned estate on a small, picturesque Canadian island. This property, which he names The Thousand Lupines, is regarded with trepidation by the islanders. Peppercorn's persevering research takes us back to the late nineteenth century, recounting the moving and enigmatic story of the only previous inhabitants of the large estate: Bez Benjamin, his wife, Lupine, and their extraordinary ten-year-old daughter, Julia Louisa. We learn about the remarkable friendship forged between the young heroine and a mysterious nine-year-old, one-armed boy named Theophilos. Written with humour, the novel explores the themes of resilience and difference. Featuring a cast of amusing and eccentric characters, To Pick a Lupine is a poignant story about the triumph of the human spirit.

The Story Behind the Story:

I wanted to write a novel which had a similar feel to L. M. Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables but with the added elements of mystery and a unique historical perspective. As I lived on Campobello at the time, the island was the logical choice for the setting of the story. The lupine flowers are glorious on Campobello in June, and these play an important role in the novel. One of the characters is called Lupine, hence the double meaning of the title To Pick a Lupine. Although the plot takes place in present day, there is a sub-plot which takes us back to the late nineteenth century, with references to Campobello’s glory days as a summer resort for wealthy American families, including Franklin Roosevelt’s parents. There is a mystical feel to the novel, primarily due to the story of the two children, Julia Louisa and Theophilos.

Website: Please go HERE.

A question before you go, Bernard:

Scribbler: Where is your favourite spot to write? Are you messy or neat? Your beverage of choice?

Bernard: I wrote To Pick a Lupine at my home on Campobello Island in an upstairs office overlooking the glimmering waters of the harbour. While I usually like a very tidy desk, a certain amount of clutter and disarray seems to help me in the creative process. While writing, the beverage of choice is coffee. Usually, one cup in the morning and one in the afternoon will suffice. (I rarely write in the evenings.) Now that I live in Riverview, my favourite spot to write is a room which I have commandeered as my office in our third-floor apartment. The large windows overlook a peaceful landscape of trees and hills. While I do miss the water view that I had on Campobello, I have happily adapted to my new writing environment.

An Excerpt from To Pick a Lupine:

In June of 1882, a blue-eyed South Carolinian, who had made his fortune by illicit means, evaded the hot pursuit of legal authorities and fled to Campobello. At the time, the Canadian island enjoyed the reputation as a summer resort location for wealthy Americans who wished to escape the heat, the humidity, and the hubbub of city life. Benjamin R. Benjamin—yes, dear reader, that was indeed his birth name—felt very much at home among the other “fugitives” who had taken up seasonal residence that summer at Campobello’s newly built Tyn-y-Coed hotel. It was there that he fell in love at first sight with a petite twenty-three-year-old who claimed to have been the sole survivor of a recent shipwreck. No one believed her, of course, nor did she expect anyone to believe her. It was simply her way of telling people to mind their own business whenever they enquired about her reasons for staying unaccompanied at the grand hotel. The clothing she wore communicated a certain risqué character, while still identifying the wearer as a dignified lady of means. She spoke several European languages and was extremely adept at five-card stud, a type of poker game that originated during the American Civil War. Exuding confidence and ease, the young lady was popular with many of the gentlemen staying at the hotel and was generally mistrusted by all the other female guests. Her favourite colour, she claimed, was lavender and her favourite flower, the lupine. Because no one at the Tyn-y-Coed knew her name—the hotel register listing her only as Lady L—a fellow card player began to address the mysterious beauty as Miss Lupine, a sobriquet which she immediately embraced and which was soon accepted and employed by the other residents. It must be said, however, that some of the less empathetic guests at the hotel preceded the appellation with the term so-called when gossiping about the controversial visitor, while others even referred to her as the “invasive species.”

Thank you for being our guest this week, Bernard. We wish you continued success with your stories.

And a special thank you to all out visitors and readers. Please leave us a comment below. 

The Story Behind the Story with Author Casey Shelley of Saint John, NB, Canada.

 

Someone new today on the Scribbler.

Let's welcome Casey and read about her newest novel.

 We met through a mutual author friend and I’m certain you will enjoy learning more about her and her writing.

We are pleased she accepted our invitation to be with us today.

She will also be participating at the GMRD Book Fair in April.

Read on my friends.

 

 

My name is Casey Shelley. I was born and raised in Rothesay, New Brunswick, Canada and currently make Saint John my home. I’ve had a passion for writing since early childhood (to the point that my mother bought me a typewriter at the age of ten).

After high school, I earned a Bachelor of Arts in English Literature and a Bachelor of Education from the University of New Brunswick. I then went on to earn a Master of Education in Literacy from Queen’s University.

I have worked as an elementary school teacher for almost ten years now. I absolutely love the ability to support my students with their writing skills. My passion for writing has never waned, and my short fiction and poetry have been published in various collections, both online and in print. My debut novel, Rexwood Rings, is a young adult fantasy being published with CSG Publishing House in the spring of 2025. A detailed publication history can be found at my author website linked below.

When I’m not writing, I can usually be found exploring the great outdoors with my wonderful husband, son and dog.

 

Title: Rexwood Rings

Synopsis: In a volcanic world hidden beneath Earth’s surface, Landon Rexwood lives an immortal life, protected by an ancient magic. But immortality comes at a deadly price. Every generation, the eldest son of the Rexwood bloodline must journey to the Outside—the human world—and provide a sacrifice before his eighteenth birthday. Failure of this mission means destruction of the Inside world Landon has always known.

Wexton, the eldest Rexwood brother, has already failed to complete his mission, placing the responsibility on Landon’s shoulders. Landon begins his journey, and time starts to run out as he struggles to find the perfect sacrifice. Along the way, he uncovers shocking truths about the human world, his family, and himself.

In a race against time, Landon must face impossible choices. Will he fulfill his family’s dark duty and save his world, or will uncovered truths change his mind?

The Story Behind the Story: My inspiration for this story started from a writing prompt I saw in a writing group online. The prompt was to create a story based on friendship and a ring. This simple idea ultimately led me to write a much bigger story.

I brought the short story to some beta readers for feedback. One suggested that the story seemed like it had the potential to be more—that the characters have a bigger story to tell. She suggested that I should try making the short piece into a novel. So, the current novel Rexwood Rings acts as a prequel to the initial short story. It features the two original characters, but many more layers have been added.

Website: Please go HERE.

A question before you go, Casey:

Scribbler: Where is your favourite spot to write? Are you messy or neat? Your beverage of choice?

Casey: My favourite spot to write is at the uptown library in Saint John. Something about being surrounded by other writers and readers, as well as so many wonderful books is inspiring. I find that I am much more motivated and productive when working outside of my home environment.

I have trouble focusing on my work if there is too much clutter around. If I have a clean desk, though, I can get the job done!

My beverage of choice is always iced coffee. I’m not picky about the brand if it contains enough caffeine to keep me writing!

Thank you for being our guest this week, Casey. We wish you continued success with your writing.

And a SPECIAL thank you to all our visitors and readers. 

We do it all for you!

Don't be shy, tell us what you think in the comment section below. 

The Story Behind the Story with Author Caroline Topperman.

 

We are most fortunate to have Caroline visit us this week.

She was introduced to the Scribbler by one of our previous guest, Hollay Ghadery , publicist for River Steet Publishing.

I know you will enjoy learning more about Caroline and her writing.

Read on my friends.  

 

Caroline Topperman is a European-Canadian writer, entrepreneur, and world traveler. Born in Sweden, raised in Canada with a recent stint of living in Poland. She is a co-founder of Mountain Ash Press and KW Writers Alliance and currently teaches at an underground school for Afghan girls. Her book, Tell Me What You See, serves as a toolkit for her writing workshops. She has written articles for Huffington Post Canada, Jane Friedman’s blog, was the Beauty Editor for British MODE Magazine, and served as managing editor for NonBinary Review. Her hybrid memoir, Your Roots Cast a Shadow: one family’s search across history for belonging with HCI Books, explores explosive intergenerational histories that link war zones and foreign shores with questions of identity and belonging.

 

 

 

Title: Your Roots Cast a Shadow: one family’s search across history for belonging

 

Synopsis:
A narrative of cultural translation, identity, and belonging.
The thrill of a new place fades quickly for Caroline Topperman when she moves from Vancouver to Poland in 2013. As she delves into her family’s history, tracing their migration through pre-WWII Poland, Afghanistan, Soviet Russia and beyond, she discovers the layers of their complex experiences mirror some of what she felt as she adapted to life in a new country. How does one balance honoring both one’s origins and new surroundings?

Your Roots Cast a Shadow explores where personal history intersects with global events to shape a family’s identity. From the bustling markets of Baghdad to the quiet streets of Stockholm, Topperman navigates the murky waters of history as she toggles between present and past, investigating the relationship between migration, politics, identity, and home. Her family stories bring history into the present as her paternal grandmother becomes the first woman allowed to buy groceries at her local Afghan market while her husband is tasked with building the road from Kabul to Jalalabad. Topperman’s Jewish grandfather, a rising star in the Communist Party, flees Poland at the start of WWII one step ahead of the Nazis, returning later only to be rejected by the Party for his Jewish faith. Topperman herself struggles with new cultural expectations and reconciling with estranged relatives.

A study in social acceptance, Topperman contends with what one can learn about an adopted culture while trying to retain the familiar, the challenges of learning new languages and traditions even as she examines the responsibilities of migrants to their new culture, as well as that society’s responsibility to them.

The Story Behind the Story:

In 2015, when I began writing my book, Poland was undergoing a concerning shift. Witnessing Pride parades flanked by police in riot gear and the disturbing rise of neo-Nazi and ultra-Nationalist was a serious reality check. The echoes of history felt chillingly close. I was seeing news headlines that were eerily similar to those my grandparents saw in the 1930s.

These experiences sparked a deep sense of and got me thinking about my own family's history. Their journeys through pre-war Poland, Afghanistan, and beyond were filled with displacement, persecution, and a constant struggle to belong. I felt an urgent need to explore these themes and understand the roots of prejudice and the fragility of acceptance.

My family's story became a lens through which to examine the complexities of identity and the enduring impact of migration and historical trauma. My grandmother navigating the restrictions of a patriarchal society in Afghanistan, my grandfather fleeing Poland ahead of the Nazis only to face rejection from the country he loved– their struggles resonated with the challenges I saw people facing around me in Poland.

I believe stories can help us connect and build empathy. By sharing my family's experiences and my own journey of navigating a new culture, I hoped to offer a personal and relatable way to understand these complex issues. Your Roots Cast a Shadow is more than just a historical account; it's about the human need for connection and belonging. It's a reminder that we need to learn from history to create a more inclusive future for everyone.

Website: Please go HERE.

A question before you go, Caroline:

Scribbler: Where is your favourite spot to write? Are you messy or neat? Your beverage of choice?

Caroline: My favourite spot to write is wherever I can set up my laptop but often I find myself taking notes in the most unexpected places. I have been known to pull out my voice recorder in the middle of a meal, when an idea strikes.

While I would love to say that I am neat and organized, my writing desk is a huge mess with sticky notes and study materials strewn across every empty surface. Lately, my writing involves a lot translating and research. On any given day I may be working through old letters, incomplete family memoirs, maps, and history books.

My go to beverage is coffee which sounds like a cliché but a cup in the morning is how I like to start my day. I am, however, trying to drink more water. I don’t do that enough.

An Excerpt from Your Roots Cast a Shadow

CHOINKI AND MENORAHS: A CLASH OF HOLIDAYS IN WARSAW

Hanukkah comes early in 2013, starting on November 27. Most of our things are still in boxes somewhere on the ocean. It’s at this moment that it hits me. Where do I buy a menorah and candles in a Catholic country? In Toronto or Vancouver, it was easy. But in Poland? I finally realize that the only place to find a menorah and candles is in the general store next to the Nożyk synagogue on Twarda Street, in what was once the Jewish part of town. Entering the courtyard, I feel the same way I do when I first see the boundary marker embedded in the sidewalk on Swiętokrzyska depicting the wall where the Jewish Ghetto once stood. The friend I’m walking with, a longtime resident of Warsaw, admits it is the first time she has noticed the marker. I don’t say anything, but I want to yell out at everyone mindlessly stepping over the metal plaque, “Do you know what you just walked over? Do you know what happened here? How can you go about your day and ignore history? At least take a second to acknowledge it.” This isn’t about religion; it’s more 74 Your Roots Cast a Shadow about humanity. I am frustrated. I am terrified that this is ignored. Why isn’t more being done to educate the public? I know that there is a good chance that the Holocaust will be forgotten in the near future, and that will be dangerous for the entire world. I feel paralyzed with my thinking, and I’m not entirely sure what I can do to relay my fears to anyone who will listen. A uniformed soldier cradling a large gun stands guard out front. This is a very common sight around most European synagogues. The main synagogue in Berlin stands behind a ten-foot fence. The main synagogue in Florence has concrete barricades spanning a six-foot perimeter around the entrance. Paris, Prague, Venice—if the city even has a synagogue, then it’s most likely behind some sort of wall, populated with armed guards. Churches on the other hand are easily accessible, with doors that are open to the public. We approach a man sitting behind a large glass wall. “What do you want? Why are you here? Are you Jewish?” I say that I am, and my husband is not. We have to hand over our passports and with much skepticism he allows us, finally, to enter. I am more welcome in the general store, and when the man behind the counter learns I’m in the market for a menorah, he is thrilled to show me everything they have. I also buy some candles and a few other treats that will get us through the holidays. As we leave, after he tells me that I’m always welcome, he says a few words in Hebrew. I smile and mumble something. I hope he doesn’t guess that I have no idea what he said.

Thank you so much, Caroline. for being our guest this week, and for sharing an excerpt. We wish you continued success with your writing.

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