Daniel Goodwin

I cannot recall when I heard first about Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead — just as Ros comes up blank when Guil asks him the first thing he remembers. It must have been sometime in my teens, when I was doing a bit of Shakespearean acting in high school and writing the occasional essay on Hamlet…

You need to know that a brutal, sensational, seemingly senseless crime has just been committed. (I hope that’s not what you think about my writing.) Keep on reading to find out who did it and why. . . . This is the thrilling premise and promise behind the nearly one million mysteries Canadians buy (and love) each…

Back in July, with the publication date of my new novel on the horizon, like a tiny, fragile boat on a big sea, I was already labouring on the next one when I found myself asking the novelist’s existential question: Why am I writing these? The war in Ukraine was entering its seventeenth month. Canada’s economy and social fabric were showing signs of…

Like all of us in these disorienting days, I reach out across the distance to family and friends — mostly by email, sometimes by phone — to ask how they are doing, to let them know I am thinking of them. Those who like to read or write tend to ask me what I am reading or how my writing’s…

  Love, the love is always there, but you always wonder if the life is real as the flesh of your wife’s soft shoulder   as she sleeps, or if you have slipped on her slender hip into a dream as it rises like the dark green hill   in a scurvy-ridden sailor’s nightmare, and you wake up sweating because you know you are…

  When you come to greet me, shyly, wearing nothing but your love for me I will come to meet you halfway like a falcon returning to your wrist.   And when you raise your arm, trembling ever so slightly, I will alight and let you pull the velvet shroud over my eyes.  …