It was a rainy Sunday afternoon during the 2023 Toronto International Festival of Authors when I first met David A. Robertson. I was hosting a panel featuring the Governor General’s Literary Award–winning author, and we both arrived drenched from a torrential downpour. Having been caught without umbrellas, we were too soaked to sit down, and by the end of a lively chat, we chuckled about the puddle that our dripping clothes had made on the green room floor. Damp and cold but smiling, we headed to the venue. On stage, Robertson—calm, genial, and generous—captivated the audience, especially the many young fans of The Misewa Saga (Tundra Books), his bestselling fantasy series for middle-grade readers.
As I recall his ease and poise with me, with the audience, and with his fans at the book signing that followed, I doubt any one of us could have guessed that Robertson has long been haunted by health anxiety and depression. With no trace of affection, he calls them his “little monsters” – and with aching honesty, he shares the detail of his persistent struggles with them in All the Little Monsters (HarperCollins Canada, 2025). This deeply personal and powerfully resonant memoir speaks directly to his mental health journey. With candour, humour and compassion, Robertson reframes the experience of mental illness—not as a weakness, but as something we can name, seek treatment for, and begin to heal. All the Little Monsters is both an engrossing read and a source of empowerment, solidarity and possibility.
In her foreword, journalist Shelagh Rogers describes the book as “a treasure,” praising Robertson for being “wide open, unflinchingly honest, and brave.” It’s an accurate assessment, and his courage is matched by care: he writes not just to share his story, but to build community and support for others. Through reflections and strategies drawn directly from his own journey, he encourages readers to speak louder than their anxiety: to reject self-judgment, and to embrace kindness, understanding, and empathy as essential tools for healing.
Vulnerability 101
“Writing from a place of vulnerability isn’t new to me; it’s one of the main reasons why I’ve been able to build a community of readers,” Robertson notes. “I try to be as open and honest as I can be with the public, both in my presentations and my books. I’ve been sharing my mental health journey for a while now, starting in the late 2010s, and it felt as if it was the right time to share my journey with mental health with a broader audience.”
A two-time winner of the Governor General’s Literary Award, Robertson is a member of Norway House Cree Nation and one of today’s most prolific and widely respected authors. He writes across genres and reading ages – for instance, fiction, graphic novels, books for children and teens—and he also serves as the editorial director of Swift Water Books, the Indigenous imprint of Tundra Books, which is the children’s division of Penguin Random House Canada. Pursuing autobiographical nonfiction in this way may have been a surprise . . . but it was not a stretch: “I’d written Black Water, a memoir about my father and me already, and while I didn’t expect to write another memoir, it was something I needed to do. So, I wrote another memoir.” More than that, he turned his lens inward at maximum magnification: “Writing Monsters was cathartic for me. It allowed me to look at my own journey with objectivity, so that I understood my challenges better, but it also let me recontextualize my life by looking back on it with experienced eyes. So I could recount everything I’d been through.” And in the end, “this different lens helped me to come to terms with what I’d lived through, and also empowered me. I felt more resilient.”
As befits such a prolific author, Robertson’s schedule is packed: in addition to writing, editing, and publishing, he is a much sought-after public speaker. For example, at the “Great Readception at the recent Festival of Literary Diversity (FOLD), his name had barely been announced when a roar of welcome met him – before he even stepped onstage to read from All the Little Monsters. But even in so personal and revealing a memoir, he draws a firm line between his public self and his most private relationships. He writes with great care about the people in his life, especially his wife Jill – noticeably refraining from describing how his anxiety and bouts of depression have affected her and them. This elision is deliberate, “I think, simply, because it’s my story, not their story. They are a part of my story, of course. But it’s not up to me to share what they went through in being with me through my journey.” Instead, he notes, “All I could do was share what their support meant to me, and yes, protect their privacy the best I could.”
Reconciliation 101
That sense of compassion and community also grounds Robertson’s second major release of 2025: 52 Ways to Reconcile (Penguin Random House Canada). The book is a year-long guide to active reconciliation, filled with practical weekly steps. Part invitation, part challenge, part exercise in change-seeking, it is informed by his years of public engagement, advocacy and education.
Its genesis was organic “I could have written 104 Ways to Reconcile,” he explains. “I really just sat down with a piece of paper, and wrote out a whole bunch of ideas. Small actions and bigger actions that anybody could take to play a part, because I truly believe that everybody has a part to play.” Then once the list was on paper, “I tried to pull out the ones that made most sense, and organize them in a way that spread things out in the most logical way, never asking too much for weeks in a row, and to make this as inviting and non-threatening as possible.” Ultimately, his aim was simple and practical: “I wanted this book to be welcoming for anybody, and I think it accomplishes this.”
When it comes to reconciliation, Robertson has been outspoken about his admiration for teachers and librarians. The best action they can take is not a photo op or a tokenistic public display: it’s something that “looks like change. That’s what we need to do. That’s how we achieve lasting change.” His call for authenticity in reconciliation—especially in schools—is pointed, but hopeful. “Authentic reconciliation is people—teachers, librarians, kids, parents, everybody—knowing they have a role, embracing that truth, and doing the work to build a community that has a foundation of understanding, respect, and equity.”
Although 52 Ways only recently hit shelves, its early impact has already moved him. “It’s so early to know what it’s meant to me, but witnessing the early reaction to the book has been rewarding. And hopeful. It’s always about hope.” And hope, he notes, is a deliberate act of courage: “You have to choose hope. What’s the alternative?” One of the best ways to do this, which is also “probably the most significant action in this book is sharing the book. Stories are gifts and they are meant to be shared, to be told and retold. That’s how one story can make a huge difference.”
Growth 101
When asked whether these two deeply personal books stretched or surprised him creatively, Robertson grows reflective: “I don’t know if either book surprised me. I’ve written in so many different forms and genres now, that I feel prepared to take on any task. I like to challenge myself. But in challenging myself, I suppose there is an element of growth, and it always surprises me when one of my books does well.”
“I never expect a book of mine to take off, I just hope for that,” he continues. “But while I don’t ever think that much of myself, I do take pride in the fact that my books have done well across genres. I work hard, and I think that hard work has paid off.” And he’s far from done: ”I’m only going to work harder, for as long as I can!”
To me, the final chapter of All the Little Monsters makes Robertson’s intention clear. In it, he explains, “I want you to feel as if we’ve sat together and I’ve told you a story in person, sitting across from one another, face to face.” And that’s exactly what his work – whether memoir, practical guidebook, or work of fiction – consistently achieves. His writing feels like a conversation with a trusted friend: one who has been where you are, and is gently lighting the way forward.
Robertson will appear at North York Central Library on May 13, 2025 for a real-life conversation focused on 52 Ways to Reconcile, as part of the Toronto Public Library’s Salon Series. The event is free and open to the public. For details and tickets, visit torontopubliclibrary.ca.
© Arpita Ghosal, Sesaya Arts Magazine, 2025
