#edmunston

THE BOOK

Kris Bertin is a bartender at a local bar I quite enjoy. I can’t imagine how many other twisted stories he has in his back pocket. It’s genius. Some people may wonder why his Author Bio says nothing more than “tends bar” but I say, why give up the goldmine? He’s got nothing to prove, anyway. These stories are not precious, they are dank, they are grotesque, they are gorgeously obscene, and at the same time darkly realistic. The title story isn’t even the strongest, in my opinion, but it opens the collection affectively by showing us we probably won’t like any of its characters, won’t approve of their lives, will both feel sad for and be disgusted by them, but we’ll keep reading anyway, because we can’t look away. Between these pages are schemers, lowlifes, unfortunates, and they’re realer than you and I ever will be. Bertin’s language is poignant without being dramatic, and he has an eye for detail I’d kill for; this is the kind of writing that comes across as effortless but which you know has been polished like a newly washed beer stein with a bar rag. With opening sentences like, “There are two kinds of emptiness. The one I had and the one I needed,” how dare you not read on? Though each of these ten stories is prime re-reading material, my favourite, by far, is “The Narrow Passage”: what I’d call Atlantic Canadian domestic horror; noir of the mundane. I can’t prepare you, but I ask that you read it.

THE BEER

I’m a sucker for a stubbie bottle, and for mythical creatures, so you can probably guess that I enjoyed this one. Superficial reasons aside, this is a pretty tasty “festive ale” from Edmunston’s Belgian-style craft brewery, Les Brasseurs du Petit-Sault. It’s distinctly spicy cinnamon and candied ginger on the nose—to be nostalgically specific, this beer smells exactly like the candy store I used to frequent as a child: aged licorice and grimy penny candy (in the best possible way). While the head is pretty light and disappears quickly for a strong ale, carbonation is high up front. But it’s a tease—just as quickly as the prickle of carbonation and the malt and spices hit your tongue, they’re gone. Much like the fabled Buckdjeuve, the flavours of this ale play play hide and seek. Those “mythic spices” referred to on the label are likely traditional holiday spices—cinnamon, clove, ginger. I could’ve used more. This ale is on the brink of something I’d love, but where it’s smooth, I wish it were creamier, and where it’s carbonated, I wish it were even more so. But overall an enjoyable, tasty, sneak-up-on-you 7% ale.

PAIRED