The Walrus Magazine

Sorry, I just subscribed for a second year to The Walrus*. *The Walrus is the only magazine I subscribe to. I suppose that says something about how high my regard for them is. I kind of see it as my salute to Canadiana. Some people watch Hockey Night in Canada like a fierce religion, others drink double doubles. I read essays about The Edmonton Fringe Festival, follow the subculture of Newfie Mummers, catch up on my NWT politics and follow a multi-​decade tale of a woman’s many coast to coast road trips.
It takes me an entire month to read it cover to cover, not because I don’t want to devour it, I’m just forcing myself to savoUr it. See how I did that? A subtle nod to Canadian spelling. If you’re keeping score, there’s a few subtle Canadian nuances sprinkled throughout this short review. Bet you’ll find them all, eh?

Like a lot of Canadian media The Walrus is like the cuter, almost-​there, shucks-if-he-isn’t-trying version of something found in the states. It’s like Diet Harper’s or The Atlantic Lite. Drinkable to be sure, but there is something noticeably different about the taste.
I’m being a jerk though. It’s truly a well-​written, informative and interesting magazine. The Walrus features essays, short fiction, poetry and traditional journalism by Canadian writers. I really enjoy The Walrus and was a subscriber until I couldn’t keep up with the paper copies, so now I purchase individual issues. A subscription is very affordable (like $ 20 – 30 a year), which might explain why the mag is always under suspicion of going under.
OK, let me temper that backhanded jibe with another compliment: The Walrus is Canada’s magazine and a thorough contemporary document. Read it with pride.
Obligatory Title Pun: Goo Goo Ga Joob.
Menu Readability: Oh, so, readable.
Need to mention: Gift subscriptions are often cheaper. WINK, WINK.
What this place teaches me about myself: Kind of a passive-​aggressive review. How Canadian.