Skin House is a story about two guys who end up in the same bar they started out in. Maybe they’re slightly better off than they were at the start. Or maybe not. One has a girlfriend though. They both have a little extra cash, enough to order nachos whenever they want to without going through their pockets first. They’re not dead, and that’s something right there. And they’re not arrested, which is the quite surprising part.

In this debut collection, Caroline Szpak is the grand ventriloquist, manipulating words and voices in strange and fantastical ways.

So We Blush Less When The Phone Rings presents a world where differences hinge on whether we’re organic or customised, whether we’re physical creatures or a controlled visualisation. This is a world where power dynamics are hazy and the old uncertainties of romance mean nothing in the face of reliable engineering.

This detective novel — presented in three distinct novellas — traces the ever-deepening involvement of the protagonist Anthony de Stasio in a series of political nightmares …

Domestic satire meets gripping suspense in Straight Circles, the final, explosive chapter of Jackie Bateman’s Lizzy Trilogy. The original and eccentric cast of characters return in this genre-bending thriller, but not everyone’s getting out alive.

In the city of Vancouver, even dirt costs. In The Tenants three of its residents are struggling with their homes — whether that’s grappling with real estate prices, simmering resentments, or an uneasy co-living arrangement with the local wildlife.

This is the story of a song. Yet, it is a song that binds nearly every strand of 20th-century American popular music.

For more than two decades, Hilary Peach worked as a transient welder – and one of the only women — in the Boilermakers Union. This is her story.

In 2012, poet Elee Kraljii Gardiner precipitously lost feeling in, and use of, her left side. The mini-stroke passed quickly but was symptomatic of something larger: a tear in the lining of an artery that opened an examination of mortality and crisis. This long-poem memoir tracks the author’s experiences with un/wellness and un/re-familiarity with herself.

Jason Heroux’s Unfinished Wilderness continues his ever-morphing journey into the far reaches of a gentle surrealism and the deeply human. At times melancholy and darkly slapstick, these poems explore the growing struggle to feel at home in a world where global concepts of shelter and belonging remain scarce.