Young Adult Stratford Writers Festival: May 6, 2017 (Stratford, ON)

On Saturday, May 6, 2017

presents

the Young Adult Stratford Writers Festival

an amazing gathering of Authors of YA and middle grade books

who will present writing workshops 

and participate in various discussion panels

Schedule

10 -11 a.m.: Young Adult Writing Workshop with author Marthe Jocelyn

11:30 a.m. -12:30 p.m.: Relationship Drama Panel Discussion with Danielle Younge-Ullman, Deb Loughead, Susan Marshall, and Marthe Jocelyn

1- 2 p.m.: Magnificent Middle Grade Panel Discussion with Sylvia McNicoll, R. J. Anderson, and Marthe Jocelyn

2:30 - 3:30 p.m.: Sword, Sorcery, and Star Wars Panel Discussion with Lesley Livingston, E. K. Johnston, and R. J. Anderson

4 - 5 p.m.: Self Publishing Workshop

5:30 - 6:30 p.m.: First Nations Panel with James Bartleman and Rick Revelle

7 - 9 p.m.: Canadian Change Conversation Showcase

Locations

Events are held at the Stratford Public Library, Knox Presbyterian Church and the Stratford Perth Museum.  

Tickets

While some events are free, others require tickets.
Full day passes (adult and students rates) are definitely the better deal but tickets can be purchased for single events as well.
Details and ticket information are available at DigiWriting at http://digiwriting.com/stratford-writers-festival-young-adult-2017/

Transferral

Written by Kate Blair

Dancing Cat Books

978-1-770864542

194 pp.

Ages 13+

October 2015

Most of us are maddened when a good person becomes ill with a life-threatening disease. It just doesn’t seem fair.  And, even though we know that illness is not a reflection of goodness or badness, it’s hard not to lament an illness with “What did I do to deserve this?”, seeing it as a possible punishment for poor life choices.  But, in Transferral, illness is a punishment, one doled out to convicted criminals, the illness reflective of the severity of the crime.

That’s how Tranferral opens, with sixteen-year-old Talia Hale, daughter of the U.K.’s prime ministerial candidate Malcolm Hale, going to St. Bart’s hospital for a Transfer i.e., to get rid of the cold she was getting, knowing that on the other side of the hospital a criminal would be going through the painful process of being infected with that same cold.  But when leaving the hospital,  Talia witnesses a large black man wielding a meat cleaver at a young girl and Talia clubs him with a chair to protect the girl.  Though Talia’s actions are hailed as heroic and her father’s campaign manager, Piers, spins it to her father’s advantage, as leader of the National Law Party whose mandate is being tough on criminals and supporting the National Transfer Service, Talia begins to realize that the girl’s fear hadn’t been for the man hurting her but for Talia hurting the man.  Recognizing that the loss of her own sister, the same age as the young girl, and their mother to a criminal who broke into their house probably affected her take on the situation, Talia goes in search of girl she rescued.

Forging her dad’s signature, Talia goes to Holloway Quarantine, essentially a prison, to speak to Jack Benson, the man with the cleaver.  His confusion leads Talia to recognize he wasn’t fully cognizant of his actions, and she promises to find a way to look after his daughter, the little girl, Tig.  With that, Talia makes her first foray into the Barbican, the criminal-rich but poverty-stricken estate, where she meets Tig and Galen, a young man who is caring for Benson's daughter.  Sure that she’s doing the right thing, Talia gets Tig taken by social services to a children’s home.  Too late, Talia realizes that she’s been making everything worse, even getting herself convicted for the forgery, though Piers thinks he can spin that too.

We’ll leak the story to the media, along with your apology, and we might be able to get you off with a stomach bug or strep throat. (pg. 105)

Slowly, Talia begins to see that wealth and privilege affect everything, and that because of her perspective, as a rich and advantaged young woman, albeit a victim of a man who murdered her mother and sister, she has not taken the time to learn Tig and Galen’s stories.  Once she does, though, she has to find the means, criminal or not, to make things right.

There’s a lot of edge-of-your-seat storytelling with Talia’s search for Tig and her ventures into the subculture of the Barbican, amidst dealing with her role in her father’s election campaign.  Kate Blair gets the right balance of trepidation and righteousness, with Talia starting to break free from what she has always known and what she is just now learning about the world.  Talia makes a lot of mistakes but her heart is in the right place and she is determined to be part of the solution.

Tranferral is a strongly plotted story that builds on the surreal premise of linking justice with illness and comes through it all with a healthy ending that is neither sappy nor all wrapped up but a convincing remedy for a disturbing basis for dealing with criminality. 

Looks Like Daylight: Voices of Indigenous Kids

by Deborah Ellis

Groundwood Books

978-1-55498-120-5

256 pp.

Ages 12+

September 2013

Looks Like Daylight would appear, on the surface, to be the stories of 45 young people who were interviewed by Deborah Ellis about their lives, their aspirations, their ancestry, their cultures. But the book is so much more than just the profiles of these kids, ages 9 to 18.  It is a history of rich cultures, often assimilated or obliterated, of neglect and abuse, of poverty and ostracism, of fortitude and determination, of work and pride.  It's a comprehensive and moving portrayal of young people whose voices many of us never hear.  This is our chance to listen.

An expressive introduction by Loriene Roy, university professor and director of a national reading club for American Indian students, is followed by the narrative profiles of the youth with whom Deborah Ellis visited, interspersed with a selection of quotes by prominent Aboriginal leaders.  The author begins each narrative with relevant background information regarding historical events, statistics, nations, distinctions, and details which may provide insight into the kids' stories. The kids belong to a wide variety of nations including Ojibwe, Nipissing, Navajo, Pueblo, Inuit, Haida Gwaii, Mi'kmaq, Mohawk, Cree, Lakota, Cherokee, Choctaw, Coast Salish, and Métis, and identify themselves according to their parents' and grandparents' heritage.  With forty-five narratives, the wealth of information provided is comprehensive.

Some of the stories in Looks Like Daylight deal with racism, foster care, art, self-esteem, traditions, pollution, alcoholism, residential schools, activism, science, language, environmentalism, leadership, gangs, armed forces, horses, suicide, sports, powwows–the list goes on and on.  But each narrative ends with the future as the young person sees it–often hopeful, always realistic, sometimes heavyhearted.  Regardless, these kids are the bright lights in that dark history of First Peoples, a history these young people inherited. "We're a very hurting people." (pg. 95) But most of them look forward to a future of making a difference and making things right.  As Jeffrey, 18, declares,

"It's a big responsibility, but it's no bigger than what our ancestors did for us.  And what we do, we do for the Native youth who will follow us, seven generations from now.  It's on us now." (pg. 144)

Looks Like Daylight should be required reading for every government agency in North America, for every teacher and administrator involved with young people, for every law enforcement and justice officer, for social workers, for historians, for urban planners, for granting agencies, for medical personnel–for anyone whose life takes them into interactions with others, Indigenous or other.  With a wealth of additional resources, Deborah Ellis ensures that readers get the big picture.

The people in the government who make decisions for us have no idea who First Nations people really are.  They have no clue.  They lump us all together.  They think we're all the same.  ~ Waasekom (pg. 243)

It provides a compendium of history and insight into the lives of First Nations, Métis, Inuit and Native American youth, as raw and hopeful and tragic and rich as they may be.  In bringing the reality of  these Aboriginal young people up close, bruises and beauty, this may be Deborah Ellis' finest work.

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All royalties from the sale of this book go to the First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada.