Christina Wong is a playwright, prose writer, and an interdisciplinary artist. Her plays have been performed at Factory Studio and Theatre Passe Muraille Backspace and her work has been featured in Spacing and TOK Magazine. She holds a PhD in Music from the University of Leeds.

Daniel Innes’s extensive portfolio includes painting, installation, graphic and textile design, illustration, sign painting, and tattooing. He uses traditional commercial art techniques, with a focus on the process. He has a special interest in creating works that have the possibility of an immersive physical experience.

Daniel and Christina’s debut book, Denison Avenue (ECW Press, May 2023), was shortlisted for the 2024 Rakuten Kobo Emerging Writer Prize, the 2024 Foreword INDIES Book Award, the 2024 CBC Canada Reads, and the 2024 Andrew Carnegie Medal for Excellence in Fiction, and longlisted for the 2023 Toronto Book Awards. Christina is also the narrator of the accessible audiobook of Denison Avenue.

***

On our evening walks home from Chaan Lau, the lights from the Kromer Radio sign used to illuminate the street, the sidewalks, the window panes across the street, and our faces with a deep violet hue. Under the sign was another sign that wrapped around the building, now covered with bright blue paint. Though you can still make out the words “Home Theatre,” “Audio,” and “Security.”

Most of the windows have been boarded up and painted over in broad black brushstrokes. A development proposal sign was now affixed to the wall, with details of an upcoming meeting, partially scribbled over with black spray paint spelling an unrecognizable word and squiggly shapes resembling happy faces.

When I arrived at the crosswalk at Bathurst and Nassau, I could hear the sound of bottles and cans hitting against one another not too far away.

Just past the parking lot, by the church, was a shopping cart full of them, with two bulging clear bags, also filled with cans, stacked on top of the cart, coming towards me at a steady pace. And peeking above the bags, I could see a pink toque’s pompom swaying along.

“Ai ya!” a voice cried out.

It wasn’t until one of the bags fell that I saw it was Li Seem behind the cart! I hadn’t seen her since November when the qi gong classes in Alexandra Park ended for the season. I hurried over to help with the bag and retrieve a few of the cans rolling away.

“Ahhh, oow de nay ah,” she said without looking up. (Thank you so much.)

“Ah Li Seem! May geen lay gee noy ah!” (I haven’t seen you in so long.)

She looked up. “Aiii, ah Wong Seem! Geem haak gnoi da mm jee high lay! Lay heck jor fahn may ah?” (It’s so dark I didn’t even realize it was you! Have you eaten yet?)

“Gnoi heck jor! Lay ne?” (I have eaten! Have you?)

“Gnoi heck jor.” (Yes, I’ve eaten.)

“Lay hwuy nigh? Lay yew koh oah gwoon hoong muy jun geh?” (Where are you going? How come you’ve got so many cans and bottles with you?)

“Gnoi hwuy be jow por. Lay wan dee gwoon, dee jun, geem lor dee ngan ah mah.” (I’m going to the Beer Store. You find cans, bottles, then you can get money in return.)

“High meh?” (Really?)

“Lay deem yeng ah? Lay gor seen sang deem yeng ah?” (How are you doing? How is your husband doing?)

I fiddled with the plastic bag I was holding before I finally said, “Oh. Kwuy… Kwuy gwor jor.” (He… he passed away.)

Li Seem nodded. “Oh. Gee see ah?” (When?)

“Thlam ngit.” (In March.)

“Ngeem ngeem wor. High, yew hang knee geen low.” (That was pretty recent. We all will walk this road.) As she tightened the top of the bag, she asked, “Lay fahn gwuy mo?” (Are you going home?)

“High ah. Gnoi ngeem ngeem hang ha Chaan Lau.” (Yes. I just came from Honest Ed’s.)

“Yew mo yeh migh peng ah?” (Was there anything on sale?) I opened the plastic bag and showed the contents to her. “Wah, Wonder Bread.”

“Yeet moon ah!” I exclaimed. (It was one dollar!) “Thlin kay thlam gor dee mean bao seen my peng wor.” (The bread is only on sale on Wednesdays.)

“High meh? May hang Chaan Lau gee noy ah. Jip knee doh, jip gor doh.” (Really? I haven’t been to Honest Ed’s in so long. I’ve been working here and working there.)

“High ha hor sin foo!” (It looks back-breaking!)

“Jup gwaan jor. Gor see yee sang gong gnoi gek mm hor. You hang ah mah. Geem gnoi high gor dee ngin jip jun, geem gnoi hwuy jip jun lor. Koi see, hor see ng gor, luk gor nen wor.” (I’ve gotten used to it. But the doctor said my leg isn’t good. That I need to walk around. Then I saw some people collecting cans and bottles, so I started to do the same. Now it’s been maybe five or six years.)

“Geem noy?” (That long?)

“High ah, hor noy lor. Yew dee ngin da giew gnoi ‘bot-tle lady.’ Ah, lay loi la?! Mo pah chew. Mo nam kwuy yook sheen. Har go thlin kay thlam lor? Ho ma? High luk ehm? High go gor park gnoi day do qi gong, gor doh ang gnoi lor.” (Yes, it’s been a long time. Some people even call me the ‘bottle lady.’ How about you come along?! Don’t be shy. Don’t think of this as embarrassing! How about next Wednesday? Sound good? Six o’clock? Let’s meet at that park where we do qi gong.)

“Oh, gnoi mm jee.” (I don’t know.)

“Loi la.” (C’mon.)

I shifted the bag from one hand to the other. “Aiiiiii, okay, okay-la.”

“Migh ho la. Lay uk kay jor meh? Yew yook ah mah. Geem jaan cheen. Mm ho meh? Mm wuy moon uk kay.” (It’ll be good. What else would you do at home? It’s better to move around. Earn some money. Isn’t that better? It’s good to not be restless at home.)

“Okay. Gnoi mm jor lay lor.” (I won’t keep you then.)

“Har go thlin kay geen.” (See you next week.)

“Ng. Bye-bye.”

“Bye-bye.”

Li Seem added over her shoulder as she continued up Bathurst, “Aiii, mo pah chew. Mm yook sheen. Gnoi da jor. Jor gee noy.” (Don’t be shy. It’s not embarrassing. I do it. And for so long.)

I stared after Li Seem as she carefully manoeuvred the cart so as to not drop the bags again.

The light changed and I crossed the street.

I looked back, but I could no longer see Li Seem or her pink toque. It was as though she blended into the buildings, gone unnoticed by passersby, until she emerged from the shadows as she passed under a streetlamp.

Excerpted in part from DENISON AVENUE by Daniel Innes and Christina Wong. Copyright © by Daniel Innes and Christina Wong, 2023. Published by ECW Press Ltd. www.ecwpress.com.

Book trailer for the CBC Canada Reads 2024: https://www.cbc.ca/books/canadareads/watch-the-canada-reads-2024-book-trailers-1.7123532

Creator: Daniel Innes
Narrator: Christina Wong
Sound Design: Alex Redekop


Script: Charlene Chow