At the very top of the spiral marble staircase in the Carnegie Centre, past the century-old stained glass windows depicting Milton, Shakespeare, Spencer, Burns, Scott and Moore, there's a small, light-filled classroom. Inside, 10 people sit around a table holding pens, scraps of paper in front of them. This is the Thursdays Writing Collective, a weekly workshop run by SFU Writer's Studio alumnus Elee Kraljii Gardiner. But this isn't your typical week at Thursdays, because today Kraljii Gardiner's handing out contributor copies of V6A.

Equal parts manifesto, thesis, coming-of-age tale and love letter, Persistence: All Ways Butch and Femme, edited by Ivan E. Coyote and Zena Sharman, breaks the reductive, sanitized gender stereotypes of what it is to be a lesbian -- especially ones who don't look like Ellen DeGeneres, Rachel Maddow or a cast member of The L Word.

André Alexis's new book, he writes, is an "attempt to see over the fence of my own imagination, to look beyond the self into other worlds." Indeed, in Beauty and Sadness -- a collection of four stories, two essays and a memoir -- Alexis has written a number of pieces that explore the liminal space between worlds.

Alexis -- the author of two novels, Childhood and Asylum, and a volume of short fiction, Despair -- was born in Trinidad in 1957 and came to Canada in 1961. As such, he uses the language of immigration to articulate his engagement with literature. "I explore literary worlds and use unfamiliar literary symbols as I explored Canada...when I first came to the country."

I remember being 14 years old and watching the media circus labeled "The Oka Crisis." A fistfight in the bush between a brown man and a white man surrounded by white soldiers was played over and over for days on several different news stations. I identified with the brown guy and wanted him to win the fight.

It was primal instinct then to root for the person of colour who looked like me. As an adult who knows much more about the colonial history and practices of the stolen land called Canada that I live on, I now root for the Mohawk peoples as an informed ally.

Growing up in a decidedly conventional family, when I came across One Big Happy Family, a collection of essays on family and love, my interest was immediately peaked.

The past seven years have not been kind to the Muslim identity. Post 9/11, society's views on Muslims have changed substantially. In this new world - shaped by the horrific images of the collapsing twin towers - identifying yourself as Muslim is a hefty confession.

It's often met by a raised eyebrow and perhaps a soft exhale. Then comes the barrage of questions and observations, subtly revealing society's myths about Muslims. Why don't you wear a veil? You don't seem to be a typical Muslim woman. You were born Muslim - but you're not practicing right?

As the surprise slowly wears off, out comes the curiosity. What's it like to be Muslim in Canada?