In [non]disclosure, a young woman narrator tells the story of her sexual abuse in childhood by a Roman Catholic priest. As a young adult in the mid-1980s, the narrator finds a supportive community while working in an underground hospice for men with HIV-AIDS. It is a story about trauma and healing, about what we disclose and what we don’t, and the power of secrets to be both protective and damaging.

[non]disclosure is inspired by real-life child sexual abuse cases in the Church, including a landmark criminal case in Chatham, Ontario. During that 2006 trial, I wrote a few newspaper articles about the case, and I knew I had more I wanted to say about the way such crimes affect both individuals and communities.

Other novels have been written about child sexual abuse by clergy, but many of these feature male protagonists, as either perpetrators or victims. With [non]disclosure, I was keen to centre a female victim, and to have her relay her story in her words. This meant paying close attention to ideas about girls and girlhood in traditional Roman Catholicism, including notions of piety, passivity, and obedience. I relied on my training as a historian and my understanding of theology and hagiography when crafting the worldview of the narrator, and I was inspired by other fiction writers who use similar tools.

While researching [non]disclosure, I read a lot of fiction and nonfiction about sexual abuse cases in the Catholic church. When I wasn’t working, I stayed as far away from the subject as possible. Still, it seems I was drawn to books that, in one way or another, involve secrets and secrecy.

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The Bishop’s Man, by Linden MacIntyre

MacIntyre’s title character, a priest tasked with managing the scandalous cover-ups of a Nova Scotia diocese, struggles with his assignment as well as his own demons. This excellent novel demonstrates the ripple effects of the abuse of power in religious institutions.

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When Angels Weep, by Mary Ann Mulhern

The poems in this collection tell the stories of victims of abuse in the 2006 Canadian criminal case against serial pedophile priest Charles Sylvestre. Mulhern’s sensitivity and empathy are reflected in each phrase.

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The Wonder, by Emma Donohue

The mysterious case of a "fasting girl," deemed a "wonder" by her devout Irish family and community, helped me to think about the ways faith sometimes obscures reason.

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The Way the Crow Flies, by Ann-Marie MacDonald

Simply put, MacDonald’s novel is a masterclass on how to write about the effects of trauma on a girl. 

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Fight Night, by Miriam Toews

Nine-year-old Swiv and her grandmother navigate a world that does not always accept and accommodate them. Swiv’s voice is pitch perfect. I laughed, I cried, I read passages aloud.

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Our Lady of the Lost and Found, by Diane Schoemperlen

Our Lady of the Lost and Found is classic Schoemperlen. Her unique style of blurring the line between fiction and nonfiction makes a story about a contemporary "visit" by the Virgin Mary utterly believable. I was inspired by her use of Christian theology and Mariology in this novel.

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Dayspring, by Anthony Oliveira

Blew. My. Mind. Oliveira’s 400-page prose poem is a mash up of biblical verse, medieval theology, hagiography, modern novels, and queer love story. Each page is a revelation.

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Little Fish, by Casey Plett

Little Fish is about family bonds, religious community, and the trans skeletons in our closets. Note: Plett’s raw descriptions of Winnipeg winter make this a book to be read by a roaring fire.

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One Night in Mississippi, by Craig Shreve

I read One Night in Mississippi while taking a much-needed break from writing, and was drawn into a world where a crime has lasting effects on individuals and communities. Shreve’s deft skill in writing about a racially-motivated murder in the civil rights-era South—and a man’s quest to avenge his brother’s death—make this short first novel a must-read.

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Unless, by Carol Shields

I’m not a big rereader, but I’ve probably read Unless half a dozen times over the years. It is a writer’s novel, in every way. The heartbreaking secret at the centre of the story is what keeps me coming back, and I’m gutted by the conclusion with each reading.

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Learn more about [non]disclosure:

A young girl is abused by her Catholic priest. For years she tells no one, striving to meet her parents and teachers’ expectations that she be a Good Girl—passive, obedient, and devout.

When she learns as an adult that she was not his only victim—there were dozens more—the ensuing criminal trial threatens to overwhelm her. Disassembled by the abuse, she finds community working in an underground hospice for men dying from the still-taboo HIV-AIDS epidemic of the 1980s. In their midst, she recognizes the damage wrought by shame and silence, but she also finds incredible courage and love.

A profound story of finding your voice and healing what feels irrevocably broken.