Book Review: Nina’s “Favourite 3 Reads Of 2023– Feminist Eco-Fiction

January 14, 2024February 2, 2024 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

In late 2023, I was invited by Shepherd to post an article of my favourite three reads of 2023. I had earlier that year posted on Shepherd an article describing what I considered to be the best eco-fiction books that make you care and give you hope.

I started out by reviewing what I had read in 2023. It looked like I’d read about thirty odd books, almost half and half non-fiction to fiction. That’s not many, but I’m a slow reader. I pore through each book at a snail’s pace, spending time making notes with some, particularly the non-fiction books, which I use to research my writing. With fiction, I dive in deep and thoroughly savor each word and sentence like a mouthful of an excellent meal made with loving hands. Books varied from non-fiction scholarly works on forest ecosystems (The Treeline by Ben Rawlence) and post-capitalism (Four Futures by Peter Frase) to literary fiction, political thrillers, speculative fiction, clifi, and eco-fiction.

It was a tough choice, but I came up with three choices and a thematic rationale that resonated with me and made a deep kind of sense for that year: all three books were eco-fiction of sorts and featured hopeful stories of strong women, acting out of compassion and in solidarity with intelligence, kindness and courage. For me, 2023 was a year of strong feminine energy for the planet and my favourite books reflect that. Here they are (read the original article on Shepherd here):

The first of my favourite three books of 2023 is Michelle Min Sterling’s Camp Zero.

Set in the remote Canadian north—a place I love for its harsh beauty—this feminist climate fiction explores a warming climate through the perilous journeys of several female characters, each relating to her environment in different ways. Each woman exerts agency in surprising ways that include love, bravery and shared community. The strength of female power carried me through the pages like a braided river heading to a singular ocean. These very different women journey through the dark ruins of violent capitalism, colonialism and patriarchy—flowing past and through hubristic men pushing north with agendas and jingoistic visions—to triumph in an ocean of solidarity. I empathized with each woman as she found her strength and learned to wield true heroism—one based on collaboration and humble honesty.

My second favourite book of 2023 is Yevgeni Zamyatin’s We.

I enjoyed this 1920 hopeful dystopia for its courageous and unprecedented feminism. While the story centres on logical D-503, a man vacuously content as a number in the One State, it is I-330—Zamyatin’s unruly heroine—who stole my attention. Confident, powerful and heroic, the liberated I-330 embraces the Green Wind of change to influence D-503. A force of hope and resilience, she braves torture to successfully orchestrate a revolution that breaches the Green Wall—feats typically relegated to a male protagonist in novels of that era. When pregnant O-90 refuses to surrender her child to the State, I-330 helps her escape to the outside, where the Green Wind of freedom blows. I resonated with Zamyatin’s cautionary tale on the folly of logic without love and Nature.

My third favourite book of 2023 is Hugh Howie’s Wool (first of the SILO series).

Juliette—humble and gutsy, kind and relentlessly motivated in her journey for the truth—kept the pages turning for me. Juliette is a mechanic from the Down-Deep of the underground Silo, humanity’s last refuge to a toxic world. When Juliette inexplicably lands the job of sheriff, she treats her new position as a tool to seek the truth about her lover’s mysterious recent death. At her own peril, she pulls on threads that ultimately reveal a great conspiracy.

Juliette’s literal and metaphoric rise from the Down-Deep to the Up-Top is a feminist’s journey that transcends intersectional barriers as she battles small-minded men of power and maintains her integrity by refusing to abide by the inhumane Up-Top rules of order. By the end, I sensed a victory for humankind through womankind.

Also check out Shepherd’s 100 best books of 2023.

You might be interested in two of my own eco-fiction novels that feature several strong female protagonists:

Darwin’s Paradox follows the complex dynamic of a brave mother and her willful teenage daughter, both ‘gifted’ by a virus living inside them. Accused of murder and deliberately spreading the virus that killed many, Julie fled the enclosed city and settled in the climate wastelands with her husband and their child. Years later, when their harsh refuge is threatened by city forces seeking mother and daughter for experimentation, Julie leaves her family and gives herself up to the city, hoping they will abandon pursuing her daughter. Still psychically connected to the city’s AI community (now evolving into an autonomous entity with the intelligent virus), Julie entangles with political intrigue while her daughter, who followed her to the city, stumbles into her mother’s violent past.

A Diary in the Age of Water follows the climate-induced journey of Earth and humanity through four generations of women, each with a unique relationship to water. Centuries from now, in a dying boreal forest in what used to be northern Canada, Kyo, a young acolyte called to service in the Exodus, yearns for Earth’s past—the Age of Water—before the “Water Twins” destroyed humanity. Looking for answers and plagued by vivid dreams of this holocaust, Kyo discovers the diary of Lynna, a limnologist from that time of severe water scarcity just prior to the destruction. In her work for a global giant that controls Earth’s water, Lynna witnesses and records in her diary the disturbing events that will soon lead to humanity’s demise.

*Path through a mixed forest in early winter, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

Nina Munteanu is a Canadian ecologist / limnologist and novelist. She is co-editor of Europa SF and currently teaches writing courses at George Brown College and the University of Toronto. Visit www.ninamunteanu.ca for the latest on her books. Nina’s bilingual “La natura dell’acqua / The Way of Water” was published by Mincione Edizioni in Rome. Her non-fiction book “Water Is…” by Pixl Press (Vancouver) was selected by Margaret Atwood in the New York Times ‘Year in Reading’ and was chosen as the 2017 Summer Read by Water Canada. Her novel “A Diary in the Age of Water” was released by Inanna Publications (Toronto) in June 2020.

Getting Lost in Paris

January 7, 2024February 20, 2024 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

*Montage of Paris (photos by Nina Munteanu)*

On my third day in Paris, I got lost. I didn’t mean to; it just happened.

I’d started early and joined the morning crowd at the Musée d’Orsay. After a breathtaking journey through the visions of French Impressionists, I ventured by bus to the Champ du Mars and climbed the Eiffel Tower to see Paris from the perspective of the Gods: a wheeled mosaic of art, magic and scene. Then I decided to walk home from there. I thought my adventure was over; in truth, it had just begun…

*One of my many stops for delightful sustenance in Paris (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

As I wound my way down a tree-lined street, the flower blossoms rained down with the fragrant breeze, painting the cobblestones in pale shades of diaphanous pink. A young couple sat wrapped around each other on a bench, kissing.
It suddenly struck me that I was in Paris in the springtime; and I was alone. It was just an observation. It didn’t make me sad or uncomfortable; I’ve traveled a great deal on my own and have enjoyed the edgy play on my mind and soul that solitude in a strange place brings.

Philosopher Mark Kingwell wrote, “travel is a drug, and not just because it can be addictive. More because it alters consciousness, dilates the mind and maybe even rewires the cerebral cortex…going somewhere different from home [is] the best way to challenge your habitual ways of thinking.”

I’d come to Paris to research the book I was writing—about a young girl (a medieval time-traveller) who can alter history (The Last Summoner). Paris, with its Neo-Classical architecture, quaint cobble streets, and stylish Parisians, lends itself to a wandering eye and finally to introspection. For Kingwell, “somewhere beyond the contrived, comfortable cityscapes, we’ll encounter a potentially more profound version of ourselves.”

Paris, like the Parisians, is a seductive dance. It is so attractive to view. But ultimately one must participate in it to fully experience it.

I don’t know when I finally noticed that I had no idea where I was. It just happened. Along one of Paris’s charming narrow cobble streets as the Hausmann-style buildings blushed in the sunset, I found myself utterly lost.

The sky’s light shades of peach gave way to a deeper shade of ochre as I walked on, feeling more and more a stranger and more and more self-conscious that I was. I wasn’t dressed fashionably. Oh, I had the obligatory scarf and stylish leather jacket; but I lacked the finesse of these Parisians who glided confidently along the darkening streets that were familiar to them. The sounds, sights and smells of this foreign city heightened in a frisson of increasing tension. But I refused to let the darkness take me and let my feet lead me on, confident that I would find something. This was Paris, after all…

*Display of one of the many patisseries in Paris (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

“Not to find one’s way in a city may well be uninteresting and banal,” wrote Walter Benjamin. “It requires ignorance—nothing more. But to lose oneself in a city—as one loses oneself in a forest—that calls for quite a different schooling.” A school for questions, not answers, says Kingwell.

I’d come to Paris with questions, many questions; some of which I would not answer. Perhaps the most important ones. I’d come with the hubristic ambition of defining Paris. But I discovered that to define Paris is to define life…and oneself.

Paris unfolds like an impressionist canvas, to be interpreted through experience. It is an aria, both exquisite and haunting. Like the lingering aftertaste in the back of my throat of a complex bitter-sweet Bordeaux. I lost myself willingly to its mystery. “Real travel,” says Kingwell, “means we must surrender expectations and submit to chance, to challenge our desires, not merely satisfy existing ones…Leaving home ought to be, above all…that plunge into otherness. Becoming strange to ourselves is the gateway to seeing how dependent on strangers we are for our identities…Getting lost to yourself might be the best way to find out who you are.”

*Author sits with her novel manuscript for “The Last Summoner”, a cafe creme and Pastis in Place Saint-Michel, Latin Quarter of Paris*

Losing Myself in the Forest Helps Me Find Myself

December 17, 2023April 27, 2024 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

*Rocky trail through ancient eastern hemlock forest, Catchacoma Park, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

I look forward to my daily walks. I find that walking helps me centre myself. Depending on the time I have, some walks last half an hour to an hour. Others walks will stretch from three hours to a day long. These aren’t city-walks.

*Stream swells in a spring rain in Trent Nature Sanctuary, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

My favourite place to walk is in the forest, by a river.

Perhaps it is the solitude… or the negative ions, the fresh pungent scents of damp loam, moss and trees. The humbling magnificence of these stately trees. The fishy bog smell of algae. Or the unknown treasures hiding in plain sight for me to discover… Whatever the combination, I find it most pleasing. And freeing.

It is also here, wandering in the forest, that my creativity flourishes as I find expression through the joy of discovery.

*Old-growth forest surrounding Pierce Lake, BC (photo by Kevin Klassen)*

The first step is to lose myself…

That’s the fun part: not knowing what’s beyond that hillside or down that ravine on the shores of the creek I barely see or around that bend in the root-gnarled trail among the swamp cedars. Like a moth to light, I’m drawn to the unknown. Ever the explorer.

*Old-growth cedar forest in Jackson Creek forest, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

*Gnarly cedar roots cross a path through morning fog in a swamp cedar forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

It is often here, as I walk along uneven trails or maneuver through undergrowth, up hills or down stream banks to explore and record with my camera, that I do my best thinking… Well, best in that it does not feel like thinking; more like simply ‘being.’ As my body responds to Nature’s sensual treasures, my ingenuous mind ‘walks away’ from restrictions of consciousness and roams in a kind of euphoric state of simple joy. Freed from thinking to feel and sense.

No need for a destination. The journey is my destination…

*Gnarly roots of an old yellow birch snake across the old-growth cedar forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

*Moss-covered boulder erratic (Nina’s Boulder) in old-growth cedar forest of Jackson Creek park, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

Walking in a forest unclutters my mind. The forest is simple in its natural complexity. Its beauty combs out the tangles of human encumbrance and grounds me in the simplicity of natural life.

*Cookout in old-growth rainforest at Mamquam River near Squamish, BC (photo by Kevin Klassen)*

I go prepared. Depending on the kind of walk, I’ll bring my clementine to snack on or a hearty lunch and fruit snacks that I carry in my backpack, along with a notebook and first aid kit. And, of course, I bring my camera. When I stop for lunch or snack, I choose my location thoughtfully, sometimes a place to sit, but mostly with a view of something worth studying. Lunch or snack stops are particularly alluring with unexpected experience.

*Moss-covered rocks scatter along the banks of Jackson Creek, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

It is then, when I’ve stopped walking and have become quiet, when nature closes around me like a soft blanket and often gifts me with a precious sight or sound. A nearby red squirrel eating a nut. A bird flitting from berry to berry in a viburnum shrub. Oft times, I will be rewarded with the sight of a mushroom right at my feet or next to where I sit. That is often followed by the sight of many more.

As though the one had to be first seen to reveal the many.

*Various mushrooms in Ontario forests (photos by Nina Munteanu)*

Now lost, I open myself to possibility…

Like the propagules of Virginia creeper, my senses reach out to find the unexpected. I’m looking to be surprised. To discover something new that will draw me outside myself.

*Various flowers and trees in southern Ontario (photos by Nina Munteanu)*

The river trickles in the background as I step through dappled light and inhale the organic scents of the forest. The forest and the river help me re-align and focus—without trying. That’s the magic of it. It’s in the not trying.

*Marcescent beech leaves drape over old road through swamp forest, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

I take my camera (and tripod) with me on most walks for those moments that I can never anticipate: like the time a deer stepped gracefully out from behind a tree not three metres from me in a moss-covered red pine forest. I was in the process of setting up my camera on its tripod to capture the trail through the pines when the deer moved gracefully into my sight. Startled, we both froze and stared at one another for a moment made eternity. The deer then sprang away and loped through the trees, disappearing within seconds. I stood, hands fixed on my camera shutter button, and smiled. I had not taken a picture. But I now basked in that frozen moment of fascination between two curious animals, a deer and a human.

I didn’t need a picture; I already had my prize, the enduring memory of that moment.

*Pine trees loom tall at the location where I met the deer in Petroglyph National Park, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

In the April 2014 issue of the Journal of Experimental Pshychology: Learning, Memory and Cognition, Stanford researchers Marily Oppezzo and Daniel L. Schwartz demonstrated that walking boosts creative inspiration. Using the Guildford’s Alternative Uses Test they showed that the act of walking significantly increased creativity for 81% of the participants. Oppezzo and Schwartz were able to demonstrate that the creative ideas generated while walking were not irrelevant or far-fetched, but innovative and practical.

*Moss-covered ancient hemlock in the Catchacoma old-growth forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

It begins with changes to our chemistry. In the September 3 2014 issue of The New Yorker, journalist Ferris Jabr describes why walking opens the mind to creativity:

“When we go for a walk, the heart pumps faster, circulating more blood and oxygen not just to the muscles but to all the organs—including the brain. Many experiments have shown that after or during exercise, even very mild exertion, people perform better on tests of memory and attention. Walking on a regular basis also promotes new connections between brain cells, staves off the usual withering of brain tissue that comes with age, increases the volume of the hippocampus [a brain region crucial to relational memory and contextual learning], and elevates levels of molecules that both stimulate the growth of new neurons and transmit messages between them.”

*Beech tree with marcescent leaves in a mixed forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

So, I walk and I create in my mind and my heart as I prepare to write my next novel…

*Payne Line road in the mists of an early morning rain, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

When a Walk in the Forest Makes My Heart Sing…

December 3, 2023December 2, 2023 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

*Beech trees stand with bronzed leaves as the snow falls in the mixed forest of South Drumlin park, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

Yesterday, it started snowing near the end of my work shift, and I kept glancing out the window as it turned into a heavy thick snow, the kind I just adore. Whenever this happens, I long for werifesteria…

*A pair of beech trees stand pale among hemlocks and poplar trees, South Drumlin park, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

*Beech-hemlock forest after a light snow in South Drumlin park, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

As soon as the shift was over, I snatched my gear and rushed off with my camera and tripod and a pack of blueberries to the beech-maple-hemlock forest nearby. The place is called South Drumlin Park, because the forest runs up and down a hogsback with wonderful trails throughout.

*Marcescent beech trees greet me along a trail in South Drumlin park, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

I was the only person there. I walked and crunched through snow and frost-hardened leaf litter and I let myself get lost in the labyrinth of trails through the open winter forest. The pale beech trees, because they keep their now copper-coloured marcescent leaves, stood out amid the bare maples, oaks, poplars and birch trees.

*Pale bronze beech leaves light up the dark hemlock forest, South Drumlin park (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

I wandered there for hours, inhaling the peaceful freshness and the quiet hush of gentle snowing in the forest.

There were just a few rowdy red squirrels and one persistent bluejay, but all else lay quiet in the deep of the forest. I had found my magic and mystery … It felt sublime and my heart sang…

*Trail through poplars, cedars and hemlocks toward the river, South Drumlin park, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

When The Last Summoner Meets Nikola Tesla

November 5, 2023February 5, 2024 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

*The knight in Vivianne’s dream (illustration by Tomislav Tikulin)*

If you want to find the secrets of the universe, think in terms of energy, frequency and vibration
Nikola Tesla

In my historical fantasy The Last Summoner, Vivianne Schön, the Baroness Von Grunwald, travels through time from the 1400s to 1905 to meet Nikola Tesla and make a deal with the eccentric scientist in a bid to make the world a better place:

The Story (excerpt of The Last Summoner)

New York, 1905

VIVIANNE straightened when she glimpsed the elegantly dressed Serbian as he entered Bryant Park. From her bench in the shade of a sycamore tree, she watched him saunter to his favourite bench then sit down and cross his legs. He emitted a somber sigh, pulled out a small notebook from his jacket pocket and began to write. Vivianne studied his long face, straight nose and well groomed mustache. It was an intense face, though worn with reserve. He quelled the fire that burned inside him beneath a shell of enigmatic reflection. He brushed a hand over his thick hair, then set his mouth in a thin line of determined concentration as he hastily sketched something inside the notebook. He didn’t look terribly heartbroken for a man who had just lost his dream, she reflected. But she did recognize disappointment on his furrowed brow. He was used to that, she decided, reviewing his personal history, which had been plagued by rivalry and betrayal for nearly all his life. A visionary of his genius quality was easy fodder for bullying, whether it was schoolmates or the scientific community.

After adjusting her brimmed hat and flowing blue lace gown, Vivianne rose and approached the forty-eight year old Serbian visionary, musing how he would later be called the “Father of the 20^th Century”.

She was barely a metre away from him before he looked up, ready to express annoyance at being interrupted. She took pleasure in seeing his expression change from a glower to a startled look of curiosity. She knew she was beautiful, but it was rather delightful to see that she could divert this intense scientist.

“Hello, Mister Tesla,” Vivianne greeted him with a curtsy. “I am the Comptesse d’Anjou at your service. May I join you and sit down?”

He frowned at first then nodded politely with not quite a smile. He was not known for his smiles, she recalled. Tesla rose to his feet and bowed to her but did not offer his hand. She did not press him, knowing of his particular compulsion for avoiding human contact. “Of course you may,” he said with a mild accent and nodded to her in invitation. They both sat down in unison and he added, “To what do I owe this pleasure, Comptesse? Do I know you?”

“No, Mister Tesla.” She smiled with irony. “We have never met—not in person, anyway. But I believe you may be interested in what I have to say.” She paused to take in his curiosity and continued, “Pardon me for what I am about to reveal of your affairs, but I represent the interests of La Banque Internationale du Monde in Geneva, Switzerland—perhaps you know of us—and the law offices of Frankl & Frankl. We are one of the five largest investment banks in the world, dating back to the late 1400s with offices in Amsterdam and Hamburg. We are a private bank who screen for altruistic and environmentally conscious investors. In short, we help finance only those projects that will help make the world a better world.” She paused.

Tesla studied her inquisitively but said nothing.

She smiled internally at his puzzled expression then continued, “We are very interested in your Wardenclyffe Tower in Shoreham, Long Island, and associated global wireless power transmission.”

Tesla slid his notebook back into his jacket pocket and now gave her his full attention. She knew that he’d been trying for years to gain backing for his enigmatic projects with little to no success.

She continued, “You theorized that electrical energy can be transmitted through the earth and the atmosphere…without power lines.”

“Yes, I can light lamps at moderate distances and can detect the transmitted energy at much greater distances. The Wardenclyffe Tower uses a rapidly alternating electrostatic field and was a proof-of-concept for global wireless power trans-mission.”

“Yes, I know.”

He frowned. “But my funding—“

“Yes, I know. Your backers don’t like the idea of unmetered power consumption.”

His face hardened with dark thoughts. “Free electricity isn’t profitable.”

“Least of all to greedy bankers with no vision or faith like J.P. Morgan or John Jacob Astor,” she added. “I know you’ve been in financial trouble with high construction costs since Morgan pulled out last year and encouraged other investors to do the same.”

Her last remark made him stiffen. She was hitting a painful nerve.

“I know about your expired patents and the resulting lack of royalty payments,” she continued. “Within another five to ten years your projects will all be defunk and you will be totally broke. And no one will listen to the ideas that come to you fully formed through visions and dreams.”

He straightened and looked her directly in the eyes. “What do you want of me, Comptesse? Who are you?”

“An ally,” she answered. “I am well aware of your humanitarian pursuits and altruistic nature. I know that you wish simply to make the world a better world. That is my wish also. Energy is and will continue to be one of the most important forces on this earth. Like water, it should be free and available to each and everyone of us. I think you can provide us with that gift and would be happy to as well. Mister Tesla, I want to offer you financial backing at zero percent interest.”

He let loose a humourless laugh. He had finally learned to be cynical about bankers, she thought.

“Make no mistake, Mister Tesla; I expect to become one of the wealthiest people on this planet because of you. But I will gain that wealth only as you gain yours, through a partnership, and not at the expense of others; rather, for the benefit of others. Your wireless technology will help in areas you have yet to imagine: instant global communications and the personal computer; clean energy for homes and industry; laser medicine; robotics; interstellar travel; instant matter transference; even time travel and so much more.”

He was staring at her now. “Who are you, really?”

An angel, she thought to herself. “I’m part of the future, Mister Tesla. A future of your making.” Then without thinking, she held out her hand. “You can call me Vivianne.”

To her delighted surprise, he smiled for the first time. He took her hand then lightly kissed it, as was the custom of most eastern Europeans. “And you can call me Nikola.”

The Man

*Nikola Tesla and his experiments with electricity*

Nikola Tesla intuited that energy waves in the earth and the atmosphere could be used to transmit power to any point on the globe. He understood that the surface of the Earth, the ionosphere and the atmosphere together form one gigantic electrical circuit—an electrified Gaia, so to speak—and this formed the basis for his work on wireless energy transmission. Tesla was able to transmit power and energy wirelessly over long distances (via transverse waves and longitudinal waves). He transmitted extremely low frequencies (ELF) through the ground and between the Earth’s surface and the Kennelly-Heaviside layer of the ionosphere. Tesla patented wireless transceivers that developed standing waves and it was he who discovered that the resonant frequency of the Earth was about 8 Hz and in the range of the Schumann Resonance or Cavity.

Modern technology appears to be threatening humanity’s connection with earth’s fundamental frequency and the natural vibrations of Schumann Resonance. Threats include artificial man-made EMF radiation, wireless technology, and high frequency heating microwaves pulsed at 2.45 GHz. Whether we co-evolved with Earth’s natural electromagnetic environment or were created with Divine Intelligence to live in harmony with it, many experts believe that artificial man-made EMF radiation masks the natural beneficial frequency of the Earth and may create an environment that is literally `out of tune’ with Nature itself.

The Book

The Last Summoner by Nina Munteanu is a fresh twist on chaos theory and observer-induced collapse of quantum entanglement. It’s June 14^th, 1410, on the eve of the Battle of Grunwald when history records that a ragtag peasant army will slaughter the arrogant monk knights of the imperialistic Teutonic Order … or will they? Because of an impetuous choice, 14-year old Vivianne Schoen, Baroness von Grunwald, makes the startling discovery that she can alter history—but not before she’s branded a witch and must flee through a time-space tear. Now in an alternate present-day France ruled by fascist Black Knights of the ancient Teutonic Order, she must decide how to remake history.

*Detail of ‘The Battle of Grunwald’ (painting by Jan Matejko)*

“For those in love with science fiction at its best, The Last Summoner is a complex story of ignored responsibilities and their dire consequences, of love and betrayal that span centuries and multiple worlds. Time travel, multiverse travel, immortality, alternate history in which the Nazis have won, not in the twentieth century but way earlier, in the Teutonic age. Angels and mutants, utopias and dystopias, even a Tesla occurrence— everything a science fiction reader could ever desire in a book. A masterfully told story with great characters. Nina Munteanu moves flawlessly from a medieval story to a modern one and everything in between.”
Costi Gurgu, author of RecipeArium

Find other articles on The Last Summoner here:

Defining Moments and The Last Summoner

The Witch’s Hat and Other Fungi Tales

Delos Ditigal Publishes Nina Munteanu’s “l’Ultima Evocatrice”

The Battle of Grunwald and the Fate of the Teutonic Knights

Summoning the Slow Train to Find the Last Summoner

The Art and Magic of Storytelling: Part 1, Sparking the Premise

*Depiction of fierce Teutonic Knights crusading in the Baltic north during the 13th Century (illustration by Mariusz Kozik)*

Montreal 2140: Hopeful Futures in Science and Storytelling Conference

October 29, 2023October 22, 2023 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

*McGill University, view from main gate on Rue Sherbrooke (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

I’ve just returned from Montreal, where I was invited to participate in a two-day conference hosted by McGill University’s Bieler School of Environment at Esplanade Tranquil. Named after Kim Stanley Robinson’s eco-fiction novel New York 2140, the conference brought together a diverse assemblage of scientists, academic researchers, urban planners, speculative fiction writers, artists, and students in a small setting dedicated to encourage cross-pollination of ideas and visions through panels and workshops. I sat on a panel and a roundtable with other writers, urban planners, engineers, scientists and activists to discuss futures through science and story. Much of the event focused on the literary genre called Hopepunk—a sub-genre of Speculative Fiction devoted to optimistic themes of scientific transformation, discovery and empathy. Resulting dialogue explored forms of communication, expression, and ways not just to deal with growing solastalgia, eco-grief, and environmental anxiety but to move forward through action and hope.

*Breakout groups in Seeds of Good Anthropocenes Workshop (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

*McGill faculty in Panel on ‘Turning Research into Hopeful Stories’ (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

In the Thursday morning writer’s panel, in which we explored the role of science knowledge and hope in story, I shared the writing process I underwent with my latest published novel A Diary in the Age of Water, which I categorize as a hopeful dystopia (‘Hopeful dystopias’ are much more than an apparent oxymoron; they are in some fundamental way, the spearhead of the future—and ironically often a celebration of human spirit by shining a light through the darkness of disaster):

The main character in A Diary in the Age of Water was a limnologist like me who kept a journal (the diary referenced in the title of the book). This part of the story took place in the near-future when the water crisis and associated climate change phenomena had become calamitous. Being a scientist with so much intimate knowledge of the crisis, the diarist became cynical and lost her faith in humanity. I recall my own journey into despair as I did the research needed to convey the character’s knowledge and situation. I found myself creating a new character (the diarist’s daughter) much in the way a drowning swimmer takes hold of a life-saver, to pull me out of the darkness I’d tumbled into. The daughter’s hopeful nature and faith in humanity pulled both me and the reader out of the darkness. The cynical nature of the diarist came from a sense of being overwhelmed by the largeness of the crisis and froze her with feelings of powerlessness. The diarist’s daughter rose like an underground spring from the darkness by focusing on a single light: her friend and lover who pointed to a way forward. As Greta so aptly said once, “action leads to hope” and hope leads to action. Despite the dire circumstances in the novel, I think of A Diary in the Age of Water as a story of resilience. And ultimately of hope.

I came to the conference as a writer, scientist, mother, and environmental activist. What I discovered was an incredible solidarity with a group so diverse in culture, disciplines, expression and language—and yet so singularly united. It was heartwarming. Hopeful. And necessary. This conference ultimately felt like a lifeline to a world of possibilities.

Organizers brought in a wide variety of talent, skill, and interest and challenged everyone through well-run workshops to think, feel, discover, discuss, collaborate and express. Workshops, panels, and multimedia art incited co-participation with all attendees in imaginative and fun ways. On-site lunches and drinks helped keep everyone together and provided further space for interaction and discussion.

*Student-led break out group discussing ways to transform eco-emotions into hope (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

At every turn, I made contacts across disciplines and interests and had stimulating and meaningful conversations. I discovered many hopeful ‘stories’ of Montreal and elsewhere on hopeful visions and endeavors. These included “Seeds of good Anthropocenes” (small ground-rooted projects and initiatives aimed at shaping a future that is just, prosperous, and sustainable); turning scientific research into hopeful stories; and world building as resistance. I talked with artistic creators, students doing masters in Hopepunk literature and co-panelists on all manner of subjects from urban encampments, greening and rewilding Montreal, to how Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring informed a main character in Liu Cixin’s novel The Three Body Problem.

*Creating visual art via MAPP (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

*Marc-Olivier Lamothe stands next to a MAPP projection (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

Conversations often led to an acknowledgement of art as an effective means of expression and creative therapy in the context of the climate crisis. I met creatives such as Marc-Olivier Lamothe and his colleagues at MAPP and had the chance to experiment first hand with his creative tools. I had wonderful discussions with storytelling visual artist Alina Gutierrez Mejia of Visual Versa, whose evolving mural of each day’s events was truly mesmerizing to watch—and rather revealing.

*Alina Gutierrez Mejia creates a visual representation of the day’s conference (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

In future, I’ll post more on these and other creatives I encountered at the conference.

Program for Montreal 2140

THURSDAY morning began with an introduction by BDE Director Frédéric Fabry.

This was followed by a panel entitled Hopeful Stories Across Science and Fiction, in which I participated, along with fellow writers Su J. Sokol (author of Zee), Alyx Dellamonica (author of Gamechanger), Rich Larson (author of Annex and Ymir), Genevieve Blouin (author of Le mouroir des anges) and Andrea Renaud Simard (author of Les Tisseurs). The panel was moderated by McGill geographer Renee Sieber and McGill urban planner Lisa Bornstein.

After lunch, a panel entitled Faculty Workshop: Turning Research into Hopeful Stories was moderated by McGill researcher Kevin Manaugh and Annalee Newitz (journalist and author of Four Lost Cities). McGill researchers included: Caroline Wagner (bioengineering), Hillary Kaell (anthropology and religious studies); Jim Nicell (civil engineering); Sébastien Jodoin (law); and Michael Hendricks (biology).

*McGill students who lead the workshop on Hope and the Future stand with one of the conference organizers Daniel Lukes (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

The faculty panel was followed by the Student Workshop, Hope and the Future, led by McGill students Tom Nakasako, Rachel Barker, Tatum Hillier, and Lydia Lepki.

*Annalee Newitz gives her keynote (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

Annalee Newitz closed the day with their keynote presentation Worldbuilding Is Resistance that explored the dystopia binary of environmental science fiction. A theme to which the next keynote by Kim Stanley Robinson would touch on as well.

*Elson Galang presenting Seeds workshop (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

FRIDAY morning started with Elson Galang and Elena Bennett (McGill University), who led the Seeds of Good Anthropocenes Workshop, which introduced the concept of seeds programs then further explored through breakout discussion groups they moderated.

This was followed by faculty-led Teaching and Learning for Hopeful Futures Workshop, in which McGill instructors from varied disciplines (including education, political science, environment, urban planning and planetary sciences) discussed translating science into hopeful narratives.

*pre-meet on Zoom of participants of the Roundtable*

I then participated in a roundtable of authors, scholars, researchers and planners entitled Telling the Story of the Future, moderated by Chris Barrington-Leigh (McGill BSE/Health and Social Policy). The roundtable included fellow authors Alyx Dellamonica and Su J. Sokol. Other participants of the roundtable included Stephanie Posthumus (languages, literatures, cultures at McGill), Jayne Engle (public policy at McGill) Richard Sheamur (urban planning at McGill), and limnologist Irene Gregory-Eaves (biology at McGill).

*BDE Director Frédéric Fabry introduces the conference (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

The final keynote was given by Kim Stanley Robinson (author of New York 2140 and The Ministry of the Future).

*Storyboard of the first day of the conference by Visual Versa (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

How Maude Barlow Sparked My Novel “A Diary in the Age of Water”

October 22, 2023September 22, 2023 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

*Maude Barlow, author of Boiling Point, Chairman of the Council of Canadians*

Like a car, every novel has its point of ignition: a spark that sets it in motion. This occurs when a premise or idea comes together with an incendiary moment of clarity or a thematic question. Mine—though I didn’t know it at the time—happened in a church on the Summer of 2016.

I was in a United Church on Bloor Street, in Toronto’s Annex, watching a talk given by Maude Barlow on water justice. The radical talk was based on her recent book Boiling Point, a comprehensive exploration of Canada’s water crisis—a crisis that most Canadians weren’t—and still aren’t—aware. Canada is steward to a fifth of the world’s fresh water, after all. It is a water-rich country. Of the dozen largest inland lakes in the world, Canada holds eight of them. So, why water crisis? Barlow explains. And you should read Boiling Point, particularly if you’re Canadian. It will open your eyes to the politics of water and how multinational corporations—like Nestlé—are already grabbing and funneling water away from Canadians and into the global profit machine.

I sat close to the front of the Church sanctuary to best see her. But I soon noticed that many people had elected to sit in the gallery above. I found myself focusing on a young mother and her little girl. The girl had some paper and crayons and was busy with that as the enthusiastic mother listened to Maude deliver dire facts about corporate water high-jacking and government complicity.

I saw a story there.

What mother would take her pre-school child to a socio-political talk on water? I would later reflect that memory of the mother and her little girl through my characters Una and her little daughter Lynna, the diarist in my novel A Diary in the Age of Water (eventually published in 2020 with Inanna Publications).

Fresh water flows down the barrel of a hand-operated water pump.

My novel really began with a short story I was invited to write in 2015 by editors of Future Fiction and Mincione Edizioni about water and politics in Canada; the premise of this story would later find it’s way into the larger novel. I had long been thinking of potential ironies in Canada’s water-rich heritage. The premise I wanted to explore was the irony of people in a water-rich nation experiencing water scarcity: living under a government-imposed daily water quota of 5 litres as water bottling and utility companies took it all. I named the story “The Way of Water.” It was about a young woman (Hilda) in near-future Toronto who has run out of water credits for the public wTap; by this time houses no longer have potable water and their water taps have been cemented shut; the only way to get water is through the public wTaps—at great cost. She is in a line of people; she’s two metres from water—and dying of thirst.

“The Way of Water” captures a vision that explores the nuances of corporate and government corruption and deceit together with global resource warfare. In this near-future, Canada is mined of all its water by thirsty Chinese and US multinationals—leaving nothing for the Canadians. Rain has not fallen on Canadian soil in years due to advances in geoengineering and weather manipulation that prevent rain clouds from going anywhere north of the Canada-US border. If you’re wondering if this is possible, it’s already happening in China and surrounding countries.

The story first appeared in 2015 in Future Fiction, edited by Francesco Verso, and in 2016 as a bilingual (English and Italian) book and essay published by Mincione Edizioni in Rome. The story has so far been reprinted seven times in magazines and anthologies, including “Cli-Fi: Canadian Tales of Climate Change Anthology” (Exile Editions, Bruce Meyer, ed), in 2017, “Future Fiction: New Dimensions in International Science Fiction” (Francesco Verso & Bill Campbell, eds; Future Fiction / Rosarium Publishing, Rome and Greenbelt, MD) in 2018; and in Little Blue Marble Magazine (Katrina Archer, ed) in January, 2019 and in their ‘Best of’ anthology. It was then published in 2022 in Metastellar Magazine and later in their ‘Best of’ anthology. “The Way of Water” received generous praise from review sites and the press worldwide.

After the success of this short story, I realized that I needed to tell the larger story—how did the world—Canada—get to where Hilda was? Her mysterious mother, the limnologist Lynna who was taken away by the RCMP in 2063, clamored for more attention. I remembered that four-year old girl and her mother in the gallery at Maude Barlow’s talk on water politics. And I thought of my characters: young Lynna and her mother Una. How does a daughter of an activist mother behave and think? How best to express her voice? I had earlier written a short story that was a mix of correspondence (emails) and third person narrative (“The Arc of Time” in Natural Selection, later reprinted in Metastellar Magazine), which I felt captured the voices of the characters well. I realized that a diary by Lynna would be an ideal way for her to express her unique worldview and cynicism—yet allow her vulnerable humanity to reveal itself through this unique relationship with her diary. The remaining characters and their narratives emerged easily from there: Una, her activist mother; Daniel, her conspiracy theorist colleague (and her conscience); Orvil, the water baron (and lover she betrayed); and Hilda, her “wayward” supposedly mind-challenged daughter—who appears in the short story that takes place later.

I had a lot of material; I had already been researching water issues and climate change in my activism as a science writer and reporter. In 2016, Pixl Press had published “Water Is… The Meaning of Water”, essentially a biography of water, written from the perspective of mother, environmentalist and scientist. I had practiced as a limnologist for over twenty-five years and could mine my various personal experiences in the field, lab and office with genuine realism. I chose Wetzel’s Limnology (the classic text book I used in my introductory limnology course) for quotes to each of Lynna’s entries; this added an opportunity to provide additional metaphor and irony through Lynna’s scientific voice. I placed the child Lynna (who was born in 2012) into actual events in Toronto, where I currently live. This pushed the story further into the area of documentary and blurred the lines between fiction and non-fiction to achieve a gritty and textured reality. Lynna also taught limnology at the University of Toronto, where I currently teach.

Just as Water Is… served as a watershed for all my relevant experiences as mother, environmentalist and scientist, A Diary in the Age of Water would galvanize many of my personal experiences, doubts, challenges and victories into compelling story. Although parts of the story wrote themselves, the entire book was not easy to write. There were times when I had to walk away from the book to gain some perspective—and optimism—before continuing. When I found myself drowning in Lynna’s voice, I invoked Hilda to guide me to shore. I found a balance that worked and compelled. Ultimately this opened to some of the best internal conflict and tension I have experienced in my writing.

Like water itself, A Diary in the Age of Water expresses through many vessels and in many perspectives, spanning hundreds of years—and four generations of women—with a context wider than human life. Through its characters, A Diary in the Age of Water explores the big question of humanity’s deadlock with planetary wellness and whether one is worth saving at the expense of the other. One of the characters asks Lynna the hard question: “If you had the chance to save the planet [stop the mass extinctions, deforestation and pollution ravaging the planet], but it was at the expense of humanity, would you do it?”

Water is, in fact, a character in the book—sometimes subtle and revealed in subtext, other times horrific and roaring with a clamorous voice. Water plays both metaphoric and literal roles in this allegorical tale of humanity’s final journey from home. The story explores identity and our concept of what is “normal”—as a nation and an individual—in a world that is rapidly and incomprehensibly changing—and in which each of us plays a vital role simply by doing or not doing.

A Diary in the Age of Water promises to leave you adjusting your frame of reference to see the world, yourself—and water—in a different way.

*Illustration on Liisbeth article (photo collage by PK Mutch and Dreamstime*

This is what PK Mutch of Liisbeth and Ariel Kroon (PhD graduate of English Literature at the University of Alberta and co-editor at Solarpunk Magazine) say about A Diary in the Age of Water, published by Inanna Publications in 2020:

The novel has received wonderful praise and prizes, including the Literary Titan Award, the Foreword Indies Award and finalist in the International Book Awards. I wonder if Maude Barlow has read it?… Maybe I (or someone) should get her a copy, huh?…

*Maude Barlow with ‘Save our River’ sign*

Maude Barlow is a Canadian activist and author of Blue Gold, Boiling Point and several other books on water justice. She chairs the board of Washington-based Food and Water Watch and Ottawa-based Blue Planet Project. Maude co-founded the Council of Canadians and chaired its board for over three decades.

*Maude Barlow arrested in 2011 for environmental activism*

Walking the Autumn Verges

October 15, 2023February 20, 2024 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

*Fall colours of maple trees in the Mark S. Burnham Park, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

For the past few days, I’ve been wandering, entranced, in the various forests, swamps and marshes of the Kawarthas. I found myself inspired by the autumnal light and organic scent in the air.

They pulled me into the verge…

*Poplar trees in the fall, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

It’s the time of “the verge,” when the seasons collide in the wake of the equinox and anticipate the unruly winds of change. A moment of stillness before the Earth shifts, relinquishes, and embraces.

In the hush of a great threshold, Nature holds its breath and a leaf settles in the arms of a cedar root…

*Largetooth aspen sits on a cedar root in the pine forest of Warsaw Cave Park, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

*Ancient pine, cedar and hemlocks in Jackson Creek forest, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

There I was, eyes and ears–all senses–wide, taking in Nature’s gifts of the verge. The rustling leaves in a cool wind. The musky smell of swamp water and the sweet rot of vegetation. The lazy gurgle of shallow creeks around smooth rocks. The halting shrill of a Blue Jay.

*Jackson Creek in October, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

On one walk, a giant toad—the biggest I’d ever seen!—waddled across my path. I think it was an American toad, mottled and rough with warts. He looked rather grumpy and took his time, somehow confident—or not caring—that I could step on him and squish him easily. He was rather jiggly as he lumbered on. I did not take his picture; I don’t think he wanted me to, so I didn’t.

*Fallen hemlock tree in Mark S. Burnham Park, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

Soon after, a small garter snake slithered across my path, less confident of my steps. It froze once it was safely out of my way. Good snake…

The forest was alive with the domestic chaos of wildlife busy with itself. Chipmunks chugged and squirrels scolded from the tree tops. Surely not at me! I climbed out of the lowland of old-growth hemlock-beech swamp forest to the top of a drumlin of maple-hop hornbeam-ash forest and then descended again into the dark hemlocks and pines.

*Maple tree showing deep colour in the fall, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

*Red and sugar maples and aspens flame in the fall by the Otonabee River near Trent University, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

The colours of sugar and red maple blazed in the canopy above, frothy clouds of bright orange, red, yellow and everything in-between under a deep blue sky. I wandered, camera in hand, and found treasures everywhere—from blue fungi to tiny bright red maple leaves freshly fallen.

*Various mushrooms in the forests of Ontario (photos by Nina Munteanu)*

I have a silly habit of picking up leaves and pressing them when I get home; my books are repositories of colourful prizes from years past.

*Small red maple leaf sits beside a hemlock sapling amid white fungi a*nd moss *on a nurse log in Mark S. Burnham forest, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

*Marsh in Ontario in the fall (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

In the marsh, I encountered a green frog, sitting in the mud. It decided to pose for my camera. And I obligingly took its picture. My new best friend.

No, I did not take him home. I left him there, lollying in the mud, looking very content.

*Green frog poses for the author’s camera*

For all I know he’s still there, presiding over the autumn verge…

*Jackson Creek reflects the gold hue of largetooth aspen in October, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

“Water Is…” now selling at Banyen Books, Vancouver

October 1, 2023September 14, 2023 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

*Banyen Books & Sound on corner of Dunbar and W 4th Avenue, Vancouver (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

One of my favourite bookstores in Vancouver is Banyen Books & Sound on the southwest corner of W 4^th Avenue and Dunbar. So, whenever I go back to my home town to visit family and friends, I stop there to linger amid the shelves of wonder and erudite adventure. Then I usually cross Dunbar to Aphrodite’s Organic Pie Shop for a delicious fresh pie—usually peach, if it is available. So good! Two things I love: books and pie!

*Aphrodite’s Organic Pies, next door to Banyen’s, Vancouver (photos by Nina Munteanu)*

*Pacific Spirit Regional Park, Vancouver, BC (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

During my recent visit this year to Vancouver, my friends and I had a fulfilling walk one morning through the big tree forest of Pacific Spirit Park near UBC. Margaret suggested we go to Aphrodite’s Organic Café for lunch, located across 4^th Avenue from Banyen Books (the sister restaurant to the pie shop). After a delicious lunch, we wandered into Banyen, like desert nomads looking for water, and lost ourselves in a treasure of books, magazines, crystals, cards, singing bowls and other spiritual/healing items. Like a braided river, we dispersed according to our wayward interests.

*Water Is… at Banyen Books, Vancouver (photos by Nina Munteanu)*

Then friend Anne soon found me and pulled my sleeve. “Your book is here!” She led me to where my book Water Is… stood, face out, on the top shelf marked ‘Water: Life Force & Resource.’ In truth, I already knew through Pixl Press that the book was selling there. But here it was, showcased so nicely! It sat rather stately amid Emoto’s Secret Life of Water and Ryrie’s Healing Energies of Water.

*Banyen customers find Water Is… and find a chair to take a look*

One of the perks of Banyen Books are the comfortable seats for easy browsing. When I teasingly asked one of the clerks if they noticed people lingering for the day, they said, “yeah! They might leave for lunch then come back for the afternoon!” I can see why; Banyen is an entire world to discover. It is called Canada’s most comprehensive Body-Mind-Spirit bookstore, “offering a broad spectrum of resources from humanity’s spiritual, healing, and earth wisdom traditions…Our service is to offer life-giving nourishment for the body (resilient, vital), the mind (trained, open), and the soul (resonant, connected, in-formed). Think of us as your open source bookstore for the ‘University of Life’.”

“Banyen is an oasis, a crossroads, a meeting place…for East and West, the ‘old ways’ and current discoveries and syntheses.”

This is how Banyen describes its birth in 1970:

“The Golden Lotus Restaurant and Natural Food Store on Fourth Avenue at Bayswater was a hothouse for spiritual seekers, new vegetarians and spaced-out hippies grounding through good work. Banyen was born in a tiny book corner of the Golden Lotus. That lovely place was a connection to India, meditation and spiritual growth from 1967 to 1970. As its sun set, what was to become the Naam restaurant, Lifestream, Woodlands, Nature’s Path, and Banyen Books arose.”

Along with Water Is… Banyen is also selling my latest eco-fiction novel A Diary in the Age of Water.

The Silver Bean Café: A Place to Write My Next Novel…

September 3, 2023July 1, 2023 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

*Cafe patio facing Otonabee River (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

I’m a bit of a wanderer, an itinerant. A hobo, even. I house sat and pet sat for a decade. I travel light; I carry what I own in my Jetta. One of the things I look for when I first settle somewhere is a choice café and a place where I can walk—preferably in a forest by a river. The small unpretentious town of Peterborough, north of Toronto and entry way to the Kawarthas, has both. The Otonabee River flows through Peterborough, much of it protected by riparian woodland and marsh (it is Peterborough’s source of drinking water, after all). The place where I currently live allows me to walk daily—rain or shine or snow—through riparian forest along the Otonabee River.

And then there’s the café part…

*Silver Bean Cafe and boat wharf on the Otonabee River in Millennium Park, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

*Cafe entrance to King Street and ice cream booth (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

The Silver Bean Café fills that requirement wonderfully. It’s a café situated at a dead end of King Street within a linear riparian park (Millennium Park) on the banks of the river with a large side-park patio under a canopy of willows, black locust, and Manitoba maples. They know what they are too: they call themselves “your waterfront cottage in the city.” When I sit on the patio, enjoying my lunch under the dappled shade of a flowering black locust tree with a view of the river, I hear only birds and the desultory chatter of fellow patrons. And yet, the city is right there, next to this riparian park.

*Stairs up to Silver Bean Cafe patio from boat wharf, beneath canopy of flowering black locust trees (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

*Riverside patio overlooking Otonabee River, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

*River boarder paddles by on Otonabee River, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

As I sit, eating my lunch and breathing in the ambrosia fragrance of black locust blooms, a young man paddles his canoe past the café. Soon after, a family of geese, adults flanking seven goslings, paddle leisurely by. Gulls cry out and gather on one of the small islands as a freight train lumbers over the old rail/footbridge downstream. A robin hops close to my table, looking for crumbs and I clumsily drop a seed from my multi-grain sandwich… Oops! Darn, I wanted that…

*Family of geese paddle by cafe on the Otonabee River (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

2023 is the Silver Bean’s 20^th season, their website tells me. They opened in 2003 as a community café, serving light lunches with speciality sandwiches and salads, breakfasts, freshly baked scones, desserts and, of course, locally roasted coffee and espresso drinks. Oh! And their nook by the street-side serves at least thirty different flavours of my favourite Kawartha ice cream!

*View of Silver Bean Cafe patio and boat rental wharf from park walk, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

One day, I was sitting on a stone step by the river on the park walkway, eating my peanut butter chocolate ice cream cone and watching a mother mallard and her chicks in the water. A well-dressed lady sat nearby with a take out coffee. Slipping off her shoes in the sun, she shared that she worked in the government building nearby and came here daily for her fix of sanity. I nodded sympathetically then smiled to myself. I felt the guilty pleasure of not being on ‘the clock.’ She left soon after. I stretched my legs in the sun, found my muse, and daydreamed about the next book I was going to write…

*Black locust with fragrant flowers in spring, overlooking the Otonabee River, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

Nina Munteanu is an ecologist and internationally published author of award-nominated speculative novels, short stories and non-fiction. She is co-editor of Europa SF and currently teaches writing courses at George Brown College and the University of Toronto. Visit www.ninamunteanu.ca for the latest on her books. Nina’s recent book is the bilingual “La natura dell’acqua / The Way of Water” (Mincione Edizioni, Rome). Her latest “Water Is…” is currently an Amazon Bestseller and NY Times ‘year in reading’ choice of Margaret Atwood.