I think I need a cigarette.
Because I think it’s important to say true things, I’m going to take a moment at the beginning of this post to acknowledge Lynn Coady’s unbelievable talent. If you haven’t read Hellgoing or The Antogonist, well, what are you doing reading this? Go, quickly, and read those.
Victory Meat is a collection of short fiction by Atlantic Canadian writers. And, pardon my language, but: holy shit, it’s good. There are some familiar names and some unfamiliar names, but the stories in this book all have the ability to run you over like a truck. Coady wanted to create a collection that steered clear of Atlantic-Canadian tropes like families and close knit communities and a shared cultural identity, in favour of themes that were truer to her. From page one, it’s clear that she succeeded. These stories practically vibrate with the soul and cadence of a new breed of Atlantic writing, which I’ll obviously be reading more of. I think you all need to read “Identifying the Muses,” which is George Elliott Clarke’s contribution to this book, and I’ll leave you with a quote that will not stop running through my mind:
“My advice? Steer clear of writers! A bunch of alcoholic malcontents, abusers of themselves and innocence, ‘no-incomepoops,’ the most ungodly, irreligious, impious, bitter, and unpatriotic sots and dolts. Usually, they can’t even spell, and their grammar’s as bad as their odours, their intentions, and their morals. Abominable abominations, all. All.”
Books read: 6