without cease the earth faintly trembles:
Joining the ranks of two renowned Montreal experimental writers, Nicole Brossard and Gail Scott, Amanda Marchand succeeds in creating a bizarre yet starkly beautiful cross-genre work of art with her first book. Montreal Review of Books

Purchase: Available at or email Amanda at 15$, plus shipping.

Excerpts: In the future

In the future humans will be able to arrange a beautiful sky. A beautiful sky should continue, an intense sky, a sky spun out, the slow float upwards of it, five thousand billion acres of shades of azure and aquamarine, each piece of sky a perfect bruise blue.

In addition to the constant sky, the birds tumble through, cutting rivulets of air with a slice, a slash. Suddenly, a red tailed hawk tumbles, falls. Then, the explosion of blood vessels, like marks under skin, as happens to bodies. Isn’t a bird torn sky a better sky? The blue black mark, the red mark, is there in the sky like a hard kiss. Carries the sky in again. There is no second sky. Only one constantly bruised blue.

There is therefore no reason to vote for anything else. The difference between the moon, the sun – do not vote against the sky. The beautiful sky should continue. It will not survive harsh criticism. It is equally distributed throughout the world. It either will or will not be a beautiful sky. The population might reason the sky unbeautiful. But the latitudes covering meadows for only six weeks would know their decisions about blossoms, and would vote “sky.” In Antigua, Ireland, Siberia, would vote “sky.”

It would not be surprising if the ground beneath the sky glows because the constant sky has no self interest. Because the same constant sky, like a kelp forest, has been informed of a loss.

Black, wide, pulsing winter nights, summer days. That sunrise and sunset perceived themselves as part of a life support system.

The clouds, shredded from wing, were wind pasted back together – bears, sheep, cuddly creatures. The same seems likely to occur again.

Door Number 1

that portion of the colour spectrum lying between green and violet
(when the sky turned)

any of numerous small chiefly blue butterflies (family Lycaenidae)
(when the sky turned)

low in spirits: MELANCHOLY
(when the sky turned)

without cease the earth faintly trembles
©DC Books, Montreal, 2003