Guernica Editions

An experiment: Fiorito sits himself down for three days at Toronto’s Queen and Victoria, “island in a stream of people.” Fiorito has an interest in, and an eye for, the held moment that most of us are indifferent to or scarcely notice. He is master of this terrain and Rust Is a Form of Fire pulses with second-by-second discovery: “(I have) thirteen kids and none in jail for which I kiss Jesus’ ass.” He has (few, I think) doubts as to the book’s artistry but casts a shadow over the related question: “Is it art?” Shadow be gone! The People, Yes.

Who would have imagined that such a large, complex city could be so neatly contained – and so eloquently celebrated -- in so few words? Joe Fiorito’s marvellous Rust Is a Form of Fire does just that for Toronto -- and for cities everywhere.

Warning to the reader: Don’t waste your time trying to define the form Joe Fiorito uses to drag you into his world. Prose and poetry have existed as neighbours for centuries. Don’t be certain you know Toronto just because you’re Torontonian by birth or by address. Not until you read Rust Is a Form of Fire, a book from the man known as the mayor of the unknown Toronto, the man who goes into corners of the city that we never acknowledge and pretend not to see. And don’t read this book if you aren’t ready to meet people next door you’ve never noticed before. Joe Fiorito, columnist of the city’s daily life spanning two centuries, is looking to capture your heart and mind. But, if your aim is to know Toronto the way it truly is, then don’t miss this book. Its poetry speaks more eloquently than any document. Final warning: Don’t forget to pass this book to your neighbour.

Here is the city, writ small, looming big, in the amber of acute observation.