Book review: Precious Cargo (memoir) by Craig Davidson

Abled -- Disabled
I'm interested in the weight these words carry. And so is author Craig Davidson.
Early in his career Davidson accomplish the kind of success we authors dream of (with a short story collection) but then his next book (a novel) bombed. Unable to write, he searched for a means to feed himself. He was so desperate that he took a job as a school bus driver. But not just any school bus--the short bus. Davidson explains that in school bus driver circles driving that bus made him the poor cousin. He took the job and drove his special needs passengers to and from school five days a week, four hours a day. Driver, passengers:  they became more than simply friends. In Precious Cargo, Davidson recounts his year as a driver. He shares the laughter; he shares the tears. He explores what it means to be disabled in Canada. Driving a bus was just a job but it changed Davidson's life forever. 

Publisher:  Alfred A Knopf Canada

Published in 2016

Will this be the book all Canadians should read? Only time will tell. 
Click this link to learn more about Canada Reads 2018.

calendar from my grandfather's store

(accompanying smaller photo:  my grandfather in front of his store with a friend)

Next post:  Other People's Memories--a short story based on my days as a tour guide in rural Manitoba.

Sharing my author journey...

Last week, an earworm (The Monks' I've Got Drugs In My Pocket)

A Star (short story) by Leanne Dyck

What was it like for me to be a dyslexic student in an elementary classroom? Well, kind of like this...

A Star

 I slip the yellow pencil between my thumb and index finger and coil my hand into a tight fist.

“Print your name in the right-hand corner,” the teacher says.

My right hand is…? No, this one.

I push the tip of the pencil into the paper, carve an ‘L’, then an ‘E’, then an ‘A’, then an ‘N’, and then I run out of room. ‘E A’ is wrong. 'A' comes first. Doesn't it?

I flip the paper over. This time I make the letters smaller, but my name still doesn’t fit. I set the pencil on the desk and pick up the eraser. I press down hard and swing my arm back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. The marks are still there. The eraser bites a hole in the paper.

“Now draw a line connecting the dots,” the teacher says.

What dots?

My best friend—Little Miss Pretty Face—connects dot after dot after dot and draws a star. I look down at my paper—the gray smudges, the hole.

I’m STU-PID!

“Please bring your work to my desk,” the teacher says.

I swallow, and a sharp rock scrapes the sensitive lining of my stomach.

 My friend looks up from her paper over to mine. “I’ll take it to the teacher.” She covers my mistake with her star.  

Through this story, I hope to promote awareness and understanding of dyslexia.

More...

Recommended books that promote awareness and understanding of dyslexia.