In a country whose name keeps changing, a woman longs to return to an imaginary past. Part fiction, part biography, part fairy-tale, Weave is a photograph that fell onto the rails when the story-teller changed trains. Or perhaps it slipped into the waves of the lake when her two-seater plane took off. Or she tore it into pieces and buried it in the woods, to keep it safe. Now she’s searching for her lost identity, from the banks of the Danube, to the port of Istanbul, to the frozen edge of Lake Ontario. She’s looking for some fragment of home to give meaning to her pile of passports, left like ghosts in the bottom of a drawer.

Lisa Pasold's profile page

Lisa Pasold has been thrown off a train in Belarus, been fed the world’s best pigeon pie in Marrakech, and been cheated in the Venetian gambling halls of Ca’ Vendramin Calergi. She grew up in Montreal, which gave her the necessary jaywalking skills to survive as a journalist. Her two books of poetry, Weave and A Bad Year for Journalists, were both nominated for Alberta Book Awards; her debut novel, Rats of Las Vegas, was described as “enticing as the lit-up Las Vegas strip and as satisfying as a winning hand at poker” by The Winnipeg Free Press. Lisa has taught creative writing at the American University in Paris and now divides her time between France and Toronto. Her latest book of poetry, any bright horse, came out with Frontenac House in April 2012.