fiction

We're excited to announce that Luanne Gauvreau is the winner of our 2024 Fiction Contest and $2000 prize! Her story "Roses for Bodies" will be featured in the upcoming Winter issue of The Fiddlehead (FH 302).

Luanne Gauvreau lives in Ottawa where she is a writer and editor, in body and spirit. “Roses for Bodies” is drawn from a novel in progress exploring the nature of work and art in a world so in need of real action. 

The Fiddlehead is excited to announce the finalists of our 2024 Fiction Contest, judged by Zilla Jones! The winner of the $2000 contest prize will be announced in January and the winning essay will appear in the Winter 2025 issue (302). Thank you to all who entered and congratulations to the following fifteen finalists!

I realize that, if the purpose of this column is to surface works its readers haven’t immediately heard of, picking the most recent Booker Prize winner misses the mark. That said, Paul Lynch’s Prophet Song is just that good. More critically, it’s an important artifact pointing up the exhaustion of the threadbare neoliberal consensus that dominates much of “developed” democracy. 

As a writer, I’ve always held a particular fascination for children’s books. In my opinion, there’s much to be admired in their simplicity. I feel that anyone can fit meaning into hundreds of thousands of words, but when you’re limited to 30-60k, the lines written must be shaved down to their bitterest and most potent form. 

A Coffin full of Books 

Bohumil Hrabal’s ninety-eight page novel Too Loud a Solitude opens with the following two sentences: “For thirty-five years now I’ve been in wastepaper, and it’s my love story. For thirty-five years I’ve been compacting wastepaper and books…” 

Content note: brief mention of past domestic violence.

"Fun fact. Ready?” Pauline leans forward and the elbows in her worn Carhartt jacket stretch tight.

My leg’s bouncing. We’ve been getting on, me and Pauline, so I say of course I’m ready. Shoot. 

“More bees than men have gone to outer space.” She watches my face.

Content note: mild violence, strong undercurrent of violence

They agreed that birthdays were ridiculous once you got past thirteen. Ditto Christmas. Instead, they developed a system of generalized reciprocity — a two-person Kula Ring, Amelia called it — swapping gifts only on holidays like Shrove Tuesday or St. Patrick’s Day.

"Water" by Noah Sparrow

You and your boyfriend Ethan are having dinner tonight at your place and tonight you’ve got a serious talk planned. It’s your first real relationship, so you’re a little nervous — but everything will be fine! Probably, at least.