Toronto Journal

INTERVIEW. In this interview we talk about Canadian movies (and more) with Canada’s foremost expert – The Globe and Mail’ s Chief Film Critic, Barry Hertz. The chat is broken down into three chapters: 00:45 – Chapter 1: Does Canada have “classic movies”? 15:57 – Chapter 2:  Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie  (2025) 31:48 – Chapter 3:  Welcome to the Family  – Barry’s new book about the  Fast an...

Welcome to the eighth issue of Toronto Journal, and … we’re gonna be doing a bit more globe-trotting than usual this time around. Narrated by Anthony Salvalaggio.

HISTORY FEATURE. I grew up in the 1990s, in a small country on the Adriatic coast. Narrated by the author.

STORIES FROM THE CITY. It's May in Toronto and I’ve signed up to attend Swift Night Out without realizing that it’s half-day Friday at work. Narrated by the author.

FICTION. My husband was sick with Covid again, his third bout. He said the symptoms felt like a memory reawakening inside him, an echo that rolled through his body: the fever, the breathlessness. Narrated by the author.

FICTION. To the editors of Maclean's, I’m writing because my attempts to contact the senior editor and assistant editor directly have failed. Narrated by the author.

FICTION. At 6 am, Samantha parked her car in the children’s hospital lot and climbed the stairs to the inpatient wing. Narrated by the author.

FICTION. In 50 words or less, describe what you feel to be the biggest obstacle in your relationship. Narrated by the author.

FICTION. Of course she was going to die; she was counting on it. Narrated by Anthony Salvalaggio.

FICTION. “When I was seventeen,” he said, “I skipped school on rainy mornings.” Narrated by Anthony Salvalaggio.

FICTION. He stands in front of the hall mirror, making a few final adjustments to his uniform and kit – a flattening of his collar, a hitch of his duty belt to settle the handgun into position on his right hip, a tug at the neck-hole of his ballistic vest to ease the pinch of kevlar against his collarbone. Narrated by Erica Salvalaggio.

FICTION. The ceiling fan in Ward Office C dragged through the thick, static air of the afternoon, clicking rhythmically with every third rotation. Narrated by Drini Cami.

FICTION. “… Yeah yeah yeah they did this like, super scientific study that shows that period pain is actually like not that bad. Like, it’s like a quarter of what a man feels if he gets … y’know.” Narrated by the author.

TIME CAPSULE. The National Film Board, in Canada, arouses our curiosity. What is this organization? What are its goals, its spirit, its work? Narrated by Brigid Cami.

Welcome to the seventh issue of Toronto Journal, and . . . we all know what it’s like to leave things to the last minute. Narrated by Brigid Cami.

HISTORY FEATURE. I’m not entirely certain if Charles Dickens ever rode the London Underground . . . but, in theory, he could have – and that’s good enough for me. Narrated by the author.

STORIES FROM THE CITY. In the fall of 1942, with the Second World War raging, my father wanted to join the fight. But Doug Clark was six months shy of his eighteenth birthday and required parental permission to enlist in the Canadian military. Narrated by the author.

FICTION. All those motorists sitting at traffic lights cursing, should realize that it is not HydroQuebec’s fault. – Hydro-Quebec, 1989. Narrated by Anthony Salvalaggio.

FICTION. On Friday evenings, Tara treated herself to a medium oxtail with rice and peas. ‘I work hard and I deserve it,’ she convinced herself, knowing the twenty-dollar meal was pricey on her monthly budget. Narrated by the author.

FICTION. Marlborough Street was a dream. Sylvia met me in front of Women's College Hospital after her shift, and then we took the bus up to her house in Rosedale. Narrated by Brigid Cami.

FICTION. When I finally went to therapy, we ended up talking a lot about my third year of college. It’s one of those things that you wouldn’t anticipate at first, but it ends up making so much sense you can’t believe you didn’t see it coming. Narrated by the author.

FICTION. The brilliant morning light slicing through the east-facing window leaves Annika feeling exposed. Christopher will continue to lie there on their king-sized bed in all his sweaty, naked glory, but Annika cannot. Narrated by the author.

FICTION. Rebecca was leaving him with the baby. After five months, it was surely time that she went out for an evening with friends, yet despite reassurances that he’d be fine – “The main thing is to put her down by eight, and maybe give her a bath” – Ethan was still nervous. Narrated by the author.

FICTION. "Make sure you cut off all the green stuff,” I say to my little sister. Eva’s black pigtails are a mess. Loose strands fall to the side as she tilts her head. Narrated by Brigid Cami.

FICTION. I look at the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office and see nothing but my own reflection in the glass. It is already dark outside when I leave my job on Paulista, an avenue lined with financial institutions and the offices of foreign companies. Narrated by Elizabeth Howton.