100 books like As We Have Always Done

Life Beside Itself is a startling book not only because of what it reveals about the history of settler-colonial government care imposed upon Arctic communities during the tuberculosis crisis (1940-60s) and the suicide crisis (1980s onwards) but for the raw emotional proximity that it provides to the individuals whose lives were changed by policies that, ironically, were derived from care itself.

It is a well-researched book that unnerved me with the haunting emotional intimacies its ethnographic and imagistic approach brought through the pages. The intractable longing of a young man waiting each year at the harbour for the ship, the C.D. Howe, that took his grandmother away to a southern hospital is just one of the things in this book that wounds its readers by recounting different forms of care.

I loved that Hamilton’s unpacking of the etymology of security led right to the notion of care.

This book had a shaping impact on how I think about care and its ties to security – a relation that continues to animate my interests. I learned that my cares (affections, attachments, worries) may mobilize me to enhance my security, which also may be done inadvertently at the expense of someone else’s. To put it another way, when we seek security, we are seeking to let go of our cares or to care less.

Security attends to the “inflated focus” on security as an instrument of control in contemporary cultural life and does so richly, drawing upon cultural forms such as fables, literature, and art in a beautiful and provocative text.

This book challenged my thinking about the implications of compassion taking a decisive role in policy.

Not undermining the import of compassion or empathy, it reveals how these moral sentiments are taking precedence over formal rights in decisions about asylum for refugees, aid, access to health or mental health care, and even justifying a military action.

Under the emergent logic of humanitarian reason, structural inequities and violence are easily rendered invisible as the most poignantly shaped public narratives of suffering gain sway over historical conditions of structural injustice and dominance. Fassin draws upon fieldwork in South Africa, Venezuela, Palestine, and Iraq, as well as policy in France, showing how the logic of humanitarian reason can abandon those who are positioned in the most precarious conditions.

Starting with the public claim that Canadian society exhibits social indifference to the racialized and gendered violence connected to murdered and missing Indigenous women and girls, Granzow interrogates the presumed absence suggested the word indifference, showing that it hides something present and active: a social investment and authorization of this violence as part of the maintenance of the settler-colonial state.

Looking at the city of Edmonton historically, ways that this investment – or commitment – has materialized are elaborated, including a policing initiative (Project Kare) that collects demographic information on individuals expected to be subject to (colonial) violence and the former Charles Camsell Hospital that incarcerated Indigenous peoples from where many disappeared. This impacted my thinking on the contradictions inherent to the notion of care and the place I call home.

I loved this book because it grapples with some of the really tough topics that our people have to face.

The characters were relatable and dynamic. I think America and Canada need a wake-up call and an effort to reconcile with their historical treatment of Native people, especially with regard to residential boarding schools. People can only handle calls to justice when they relate to those who were treated unjustly.

In spite of the heavy topics, this book does that really well.

An amazing play about an amazing man, artist Norval Morrisseau. Surreal and yet very real, the play deals with three very important periods in this groundbreaking artist's life as he created a whole genre of Canadian art. The audience is given a window into the man's highs and lows, and how in the end, he became rose above it all and became a legend.

Few Americans–or Canadians, for that matter–realize how significant it is that the year Canada was born as a country, 1867, came just two years after the American Civil War ended. And in many ways, the war south of the border played a huge role in the creation of Canada.

Looking back at my school years, I was appalled at how little we were taught of the truth of Canada’s connections to slavery and the slave South. Many members of Canada’s elites–bankers, politicians, newspaper publishers, Church leaders–opposed Lincoln for various reasons.

Boyko does an excellent job of explaining how fears about the turmoil in the Civil War, American annexation ambitions and distrust of popular democracy forged a new nation north of the 49th parallel.

Terry Fallis makes politics fun. No really. Okay, this isn’t a whodunit as in murder. But the ending is very surprising. Angus McLintock is a crusty old engineering professor who will do anything to avoid teaching English to engineers. The university will give him leave to let his name stand in the election. So, he does; no need to campaign; he is certain to lose. He wants to lose. This campaign had me in stitches. Sometimes you have to branch out from your chosen genre. I did, and I not only learnt a lot, I laughed a lot.

Although it was Mercer's Talking to Americans that had me rolling on the floor, I list Streeters only because Talking to Americans isn't available in book format. That said, I do feel an affinity with Streeters for its rantiness (indeed, the subtitle is Rants and Raves from This Hour has 22 Minutes). Sometimes his stuff is too Political-capital-P for me (I don't follow the news anymore), but often it's just political-small-p—which is just right.

The Norse site at L’Anse aux Meadows was discovered by the Norwegian explorer Helge Ingstad in 1960. The following year he returned to the site with his wife Anne Stina, a trained archaeologist who led the annual summer excavations until 1968. This book is her memoir of the digs, which was published in Norwegian in 1975 and translated for the predecessor to this edition in 2006. The book ranges beyond the archaeology to encompass an evocative and sometimes lyrical account of the Ingstads’ spartan life on the site, its moments of great excitement when Norse artefacts were found, and their experience of the local community.