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I Remember Lights
The first novel from award-winning poet Ben Ladouceur, I Remember Lights depicts a time when the world promised everything to everyone, however irresponsibly.
In summer 1967, love is all you need…but some forms of love are criminal. As the spectacular Expo 67 celebrations take shape, a young man new to Montreal learns about gay life from cruising partners, one-night stands, live-in lovers, and friends. Once Expo begins, he finds romance with a charismatic visitor, but their time is limited. When the fireworks wither into smoke, so do their options.
A decade later, during the notorious 1977 police raid on a gay bar called Truxx, he comes to understand even more about the bitter choice, so often made by men like him, between happiness and safety.
I Remember Lights is a vital reminder of forgotten history and a visceral exploration of the details of queer tribulation and joy, exile and solidarity, cruelty and fortitude.
In summer 1967, love is all you need…but some forms of love are criminal. As the spectacular Expo 67 celebrations take shape, a young man new to Montreal learns about gay life from cruising partners, one-night stands, live-in lovers, and friends. Once Expo begins, he finds romance with a charismatic visitor, but their time is limited. When the fireworks wither into smoke, so do their options.
A decade later, during the notorious 1977 police raid on a gay bar called Truxx, he comes to understand even more about the bitter choice, so often made by men like him, between happiness and safety.
I Remember Lights is a vital reminder of forgotten history and a visceral exploration of the details of queer tribulation and joy, exile and solidarity, cruelty and fortitude.
268 pages, Kindle Edition
Published April 24, 2025
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405 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 20 of 20 reviews
May 29, 2025
✰ 3 stars ✰
It's a short read, well, it felt short, considering how one night I was just lying in bed and two hours flew by without me realizing except for the slight tear that escaped me as the story wrapped. It is told as a nonlinear narrative by an unnamed protagonist, which at first I was annoyed by.
But then I started to kinda sense the reasoning behind it; how the events could be attributed to any one person who has experienced the trials and tribulations of what it means to be gay during a time where it's not so widely accepted in a place where it can be perceived dangerous even to express yourself openly. 😢
And in 1977, at a gay bar in Montreal, the patrons of Truxx witnessed firsthand the cruel judgment of those who looked down on them and wished to make an example to those who they find unworthy or dirty? But who gives them the right to take away their freedom to be themselves? it wasn't heartbreaking, it was just ... sad. Sad that why can't they express their love the same way. Who are they to judge what is acceptable or not? 😞
“I want men and I want love. I want both.”
It is that pain and hurt that swept through me as the author relayed not in vivid detail, but in a painstakingly heartbreaking depiction of what the narrator endured - what was meant to be a gay (both ways intended) night out with a young man who reminded of who he was a decade ago at the tender, beautiful, innocent age of nineteen, when he first arrived in the city, brimming with youthful confidence and optimism for a fresh shot at finding love and himself.
For it to be torn down the way it did was the moment he could reflect on his past of when I Remember Lights is the memory of those significant others who were a part of his self-awakening journey. ❤️🩹❤️🩹 The loneliness that creeps through - the seeking out a touch from a kindred soul and sharing the hardships and the happiness of what it means to be the truest form of oneself, to find the quiet joy in sharing it with someone, even at the risk of losing everything that matters. 🫂
“If only you were a girl, or if I was — then you could simply put a ring on my finger and we could wed, and I would be able to stay forever.”
As the protagonist experienced the joys of first love, the exchange of discussions with a kindred spirit, the quick hook-ups that can be both liberating and exhausting, the bittersweet and painful recognition of his impression 'that life be as easy as that for men like us' may be at fault, especially for those too fearful or hesitant to openly honest about their desires, I felt a swell of emotions. 🥺 It was nothing I had not read before - really; which is why I rated it the way I did. And I know I'll never be able to truly understand or relate to how impossible it felt to simply - be.
Yet, I just felt this easiness to the story. this gentleness, not that there was a certain frankness to the writing, but --- maybe it was the way the narrator shifted between the past and present and the author's way of capturing the fear and shock of those caught at the bar, amidst that of the narrator reliving those significant moments in his life that shaped him to be the one present at this crucial moment. not eerily calm, not deceptively patient. 💔💔 And for that my heart ached. my heart tore at the unfairness of it all.
“We will not hide our love away.”
It's a quietly expressive story of a collective voice; not powerfully evocative, but simply candid, that touches you - the strength and resilience of unwavering survivors - free of guilt, devoid of shame. The hopeful note it ends on is that defiant rallying cry that may come off as too on the nose, but it was a hopeful reassurance, reminding us that everything will be okay, for they may break our hearts, but we'll never lose our pride or our spirits. 🌈
“We were unassailable, everything was ours.”
It's a short read, well, it felt short, considering how one night I was just lying in bed and two hours flew by without me realizing except for the slight tear that escaped me as the story wrapped. It is told as a nonlinear narrative by an unnamed protagonist, which at first I was annoyed by.
But then I started to kinda sense the reasoning behind it; how the events could be attributed to any one person who has experienced the trials and tribulations of what it means to be gay during a time where it's not so widely accepted in a place where it can be perceived dangerous even to express yourself openly. 😢
And in 1977, at a gay bar in Montreal, the patrons of Truxx witnessed firsthand the cruel judgment of those who looked down on them and wished to make an example to those who they find unworthy or dirty? But who gives them the right to take away their freedom to be themselves? it wasn't heartbreaking, it was just ... sad. Sad that why can't they express their love the same way. Who are they to judge what is acceptable or not? 😞
“I want men and I want love. I want both.”
It is that pain and hurt that swept through me as the author relayed not in vivid detail, but in a painstakingly heartbreaking depiction of what the narrator endured - what was meant to be a gay (both ways intended) night out with a young man who reminded of who he was a decade ago at the tender, beautiful, innocent age of nineteen, when he first arrived in the city, brimming with youthful confidence and optimism for a fresh shot at finding love and himself.
For it to be torn down the way it did was the moment he could reflect on his past of when I Remember Lights is the memory of those significant others who were a part of his self-awakening journey. ❤️🩹❤️🩹 The loneliness that creeps through - the seeking out a touch from a kindred soul and sharing the hardships and the happiness of what it means to be the truest form of oneself, to find the quiet joy in sharing it with someone, even at the risk of losing everything that matters. 🫂
“If only you were a girl, or if I was — then you could simply put a ring on my finger and we could wed, and I would be able to stay forever.”
As the protagonist experienced the joys of first love, the exchange of discussions with a kindred spirit, the quick hook-ups that can be both liberating and exhausting, the bittersweet and painful recognition of his impression 'that life be as easy as that for men like us' may be at fault, especially for those too fearful or hesitant to openly honest about their desires, I felt a swell of emotions. 🥺 It was nothing I had not read before - really; which is why I rated it the way I did. And I know I'll never be able to truly understand or relate to how impossible it felt to simply - be.
Yet, I just felt this easiness to the story. this gentleness, not that there was a certain frankness to the writing, but --- maybe it was the way the narrator shifted between the past and present and the author's way of capturing the fear and shock of those caught at the bar, amidst that of the narrator reliving those significant moments in his life that shaped him to be the one present at this crucial moment. not eerily calm, not deceptively patient. 💔💔 And for that my heart ached. my heart tore at the unfairness of it all.
“We will not hide our love away.”
It's a quietly expressive story of a collective voice; not powerfully evocative, but simply candid, that touches you - the strength and resilience of unwavering survivors - free of guilt, devoid of shame. The hopeful note it ends on is that defiant rallying cry that may come off as too on the nose, but it was a hopeful reassurance, reminding us that everything will be okay, for they may break our hearts, but we'll never lose our pride or our spirits. 🌈
May 27, 2025
I read I Remember Lights a week ago so it’s been a minute as the kids say, but the book has stayed with me indelibly, and for good reason. It’s a wonderful achievement, a simple but potent novel, and I loved it.
I was beguiled by the narrator’s journey, a seemingly random assortment of relationships that coalesce into various beautiful and heart-wrenching moments. The (unnamed) narrator hails from a simple background and comes to the Big City. Sure, we’ve all seen that before, but I appreciated how the author doesn’t romanticize the narrator's unvarnished ways, and how Ladouceur lets him make regrettable, even ruinous mistakes.
In charting a half year of one young man's life, the book serves as a portrait of male intimacies, done so in a way that is somehow both small-scale/humble while also feeling wildly audacious. I think of Hollinghurst’s latest, Our Evenings, which similarly charts one man’s life largely through his eros-driven connections (not always consummated) with other men. Like OE, IRL is less a love story, and more a loveS story. In a uniquely queer way, the novel reminds us how any singular love relationship arrives in the context of other emotional/sexual (mis)adventures: some brief, some abiding. This context can perfectly tee up a new romance for success, or it can spell disaster. The honesty of this promiscuous scope is to me one of the book’s quietly radical achievements.
Structurally, the way the novel feathers in a secondary time-frame story (its plot sharing elements with Edward Cahill’s Disorderly Men) as a kind of "woven bookend" is something I’ve never seen before. It serves to add narrative drive while also setting the table for a satisfying ending.
Add to this all, the book vividly transports us to some wonderful worlds, chief among them being, of course, Montreal in ’67. The author evokes the past with a light touch, and impeccable choices of detail. Given that Expo ’67 is often cited as the time when Canada truly understood itself as a country on the world stage, it’s sadly ironic that Ladouceur’s novel achieves a timely recovery of Canadian history and identity that we’ve perhaps never needed more — to say nothing of the value of portraying the lives of a generation of young gay men nearly 60 years ago, a world that fine writing like this helps us to remember.
I was beguiled by the narrator’s journey, a seemingly random assortment of relationships that coalesce into various beautiful and heart-wrenching moments. The (unnamed) narrator hails from a simple background and comes to the Big City. Sure, we’ve all seen that before, but I appreciated how the author doesn’t romanticize the narrator's unvarnished ways, and how Ladouceur lets him make regrettable, even ruinous mistakes.
In charting a half year of one young man's life, the book serves as a portrait of male intimacies, done so in a way that is somehow both small-scale/humble while also feeling wildly audacious. I think of Hollinghurst’s latest, Our Evenings, which similarly charts one man’s life largely through his eros-driven connections (not always consummated) with other men. Like OE, IRL is less a love story, and more a loveS story. In a uniquely queer way, the novel reminds us how any singular love relationship arrives in the context of other emotional/sexual (mis)adventures: some brief, some abiding. This context can perfectly tee up a new romance for success, or it can spell disaster. The honesty of this promiscuous scope is to me one of the book’s quietly radical achievements.
Structurally, the way the novel feathers in a secondary time-frame story (its plot sharing elements with Edward Cahill’s Disorderly Men) as a kind of "woven bookend" is something I’ve never seen before. It serves to add narrative drive while also setting the table for a satisfying ending.
Add to this all, the book vividly transports us to some wonderful worlds, chief among them being, of course, Montreal in ’67. The author evokes the past with a light touch, and impeccable choices of detail. Given that Expo ’67 is often cited as the time when Canada truly understood itself as a country on the world stage, it’s sadly ironic that Ladouceur’s novel achieves a timely recovery of Canadian history and identity that we’ve perhaps never needed more — to say nothing of the value of portraying the lives of a generation of young gay men nearly 60 years ago, a world that fine writing like this helps us to remember.
April 14, 2025
Reading about how things were back in the day is a sobering experience. It’s disheartening to see how fear and intolerance once made loving someone of the same gender a crime. And yet, despite how slowly progress has moved, there’s something hopeful and beautiful in knowing that change is possible. It's not everywhere, and it’s certainly still a fight—but even a small ripple has created enough momentum to bring more visibility, opportunity, and growth to the LGBTQ+ community. The movement continues to evolve into what we see today.
I Remember Lights by Ben Ladouceur is set in 1967 during Montreal’s Expo 67, following a young protagonist as he begins to discover himself and his sexuality. At that stage of life, he carries a kind of “innocence” that gradually transforms as the story unfolds.
What stood out to me was the pace of his self-discovery and his relationships. It didn’t feel rushed or dramatized—instead, it felt natural and realistic. He had a quiet certainty about who he wanted to be and who he wanted to love, and that clarity became a strong foundation as we followed him through the emotional highs and lows of his journey.
Later, the story jumps to 1977, when police raid a gay bar. Here, we meet the same character, now older, more experienced, and emotionally weathered. He’s loved, lost, and endured anger and rejection simply for loving who he loves. There’s a deeper awareness in him—a clearer understanding of himself and the world around him.
This story truly pulled me in and left me with a bittersweet feeling when I turned the final page. It felt like we were given a brief but meaningful glimpse into someone’s life—one that continues beyond the book. The setting was atmospheric, the side characters distinct and memorable, and the emotional realism of the main character brought everything together in a powerful way.
Overall, a moving and well-crafted read.
I Remember Lights by Ben Ladouceur is set in 1967 during Montreal’s Expo 67, following a young protagonist as he begins to discover himself and his sexuality. At that stage of life, he carries a kind of “innocence” that gradually transforms as the story unfolds.
What stood out to me was the pace of his self-discovery and his relationships. It didn’t feel rushed or dramatized—instead, it felt natural and realistic. He had a quiet certainty about who he wanted to be and who he wanted to love, and that clarity became a strong foundation as we followed him through the emotional highs and lows of his journey.
Later, the story jumps to 1977, when police raid a gay bar. Here, we meet the same character, now older, more experienced, and emotionally weathered. He’s loved, lost, and endured anger and rejection simply for loving who he loves. There’s a deeper awareness in him—a clearer understanding of himself and the world around him.
This story truly pulled me in and left me with a bittersweet feeling when I turned the final page. It felt like we were given a brief but meaningful glimpse into someone’s life—one that continues beyond the book. The setting was atmospheric, the side characters distinct and memorable, and the emotional realism of the main character brought everything together in a powerful way.
Overall, a moving and well-crafted read.
May 8, 2025
“I wondered if they [a nightjar bird] knew that she looked just like the tree, or if she only knew that holding still somehow resulted in fewer predators, fewer brushes with harm. Maybe she had no idea about what happened to the birds that moved in the daylight, the ones that failed to blend in with their surroundings, and she only knew the importance of stillness.”
I Remember Lights takes place during two time periods. One in the lead up and through Expo 67’in Montreal, Canada and ten years later during a police raid of the Truxx nightclub. Our narrator is a young man who takes a trip to Montreal from New Brunswick with his girlfriend. He plans to ask her to marry him and has his deceased mother’s ring in his pocket. On a night out they see a younger man and an older man leaving a club together and this is the fulcrum that will change the unnamed narrator’s life. Ten years later, the narrator is caught up in the police raid and is able to reflect on his own life as a young gay man, the liberation movement, and the choice, or lack thereof, of gay men to be out during this time.
This book was excellent on so many levels, most particularly in the development of our main character. Beginning as a rather naive young man, opening himself to experiences, and eventually becoming the type of person he wants others to be in expressing themselves, our narrator shows the reader these stages through his encounters with other men.
It was a difficult time to be gay in Canada. It was a time of free love, but only if you were with the opposite sex. I would like to think we have finally become a society that is accepting of peoples’ choices in who they love or how they express themselves but we still have a ways to go. In giving the reader both a tender, queer love story, and a glimpse into the time period, I hope this book will make it in to the hands of many.
Thank you to @bookhugpress and @river_street_writes for sending me I Remember Lights by Ben Ladouceur. Available now!
I Remember Lights takes place during two time periods. One in the lead up and through Expo 67’in Montreal, Canada and ten years later during a police raid of the Truxx nightclub. Our narrator is a young man who takes a trip to Montreal from New Brunswick with his girlfriend. He plans to ask her to marry him and has his deceased mother’s ring in his pocket. On a night out they see a younger man and an older man leaving a club together and this is the fulcrum that will change the unnamed narrator’s life. Ten years later, the narrator is caught up in the police raid and is able to reflect on his own life as a young gay man, the liberation movement, and the choice, or lack thereof, of gay men to be out during this time.
This book was excellent on so many levels, most particularly in the development of our main character. Beginning as a rather naive young man, opening himself to experiences, and eventually becoming the type of person he wants others to be in expressing themselves, our narrator shows the reader these stages through his encounters with other men.
It was a difficult time to be gay in Canada. It was a time of free love, but only if you were with the opposite sex. I would like to think we have finally become a society that is accepting of peoples’ choices in who they love or how they express themselves but we still have a ways to go. In giving the reader both a tender, queer love story, and a glimpse into the time period, I hope this book will make it in to the hands of many.
Thank you to @bookhugpress and @river_street_writes for sending me I Remember Lights by Ben Ladouceur. Available now!
December 30, 2025
Ben Ladouceur’s I Remember Lights transports readers to Montreal in the summer of 1967, where a young man from New Brunswick begins a journey of self-discovery amidst the bright, bustling energy of Expo ’67. As he navigates fleeting encounters, friendships, and first love, the narrative captures both the excitement and uncertainty of exploring queer identity in a world that demands secrecy. Ladouceur’s prose is tender, observant, and rich with detail, allowing readers to feel the vibrancy of the city while inhabiting the intimate spaces of the narrator’s life.
The story alternates between the narrator’s youthful summer and a later period in 1977, when a police raid on Montreal’s Truxx nightclub forces reflection on how societal pressures shape personal choices. These shifts provide perspective on both personal growth and broader historical context, highlighting the tension between public celebration and private survival. Ladouceur balances historical immersion with emotional depth, creating a narrative that feels both specific to its time and universal in its exploration of identity, love, and resilience.
At its core, I Remember Lights is a story about self-discovery, courage, and the quest for connection. The protagonist’s experiences, which are joyful, bittersweet, and sometimes painful, illuminate the complexities of queer life in 1960s and 1970s Canada. Readers will find a narrative that is both reflective and immersive, offering a moving portrayal of a young man learning to navigate desire, freedom, and belonging in a world that does not always welcome him. Ladouceur’s debut is both historically resonant and emotionally powerful, leaving a lasting impression long after the final page.
Stunning. Beautiful. A must read.
Five out of five stars.
I received this book for free in exchange for an honest review.
The story alternates between the narrator’s youthful summer and a later period in 1977, when a police raid on Montreal’s Truxx nightclub forces reflection on how societal pressures shape personal choices. These shifts provide perspective on both personal growth and broader historical context, highlighting the tension between public celebration and private survival. Ladouceur balances historical immersion with emotional depth, creating a narrative that feels both specific to its time and universal in its exploration of identity, love, and resilience.
At its core, I Remember Lights is a story about self-discovery, courage, and the quest for connection. The protagonist’s experiences, which are joyful, bittersweet, and sometimes painful, illuminate the complexities of queer life in 1960s and 1970s Canada. Readers will find a narrative that is both reflective and immersive, offering a moving portrayal of a young man learning to navigate desire, freedom, and belonging in a world that does not always welcome him. Ladouceur’s debut is both historically resonant and emotionally powerful, leaving a lasting impression long after the final page.
Stunning. Beautiful. A must read.
Five out of five stars.
I received this book for free in exchange for an honest review.
August 15, 2025
There were the lights of Montreal Expo ’67 beaming from the artificial archipelago on the St. Lawrence River. They shone into the woods on the Montreal island where gay men cruised for pleasures. Then there were the lights of the police raid of gay nightlife in 1977. Caught in all those lights was Ben Ladoucer’s unnamed narrator. The innocent 19-year-old from New Brunswick, fresh from failing the expectation of marrying his childhood girlfriend, lit his universe of queer love with equal earnestness, naïveté, and beautiful mistakes. Shelter, job and romance were all part-time. Yet he didn’t shun away from claiming the humble center of his wobbly universe from Mile End to downtown to Westmount. The formation of his queer universe clashed with, and was also conditioned by, Montreal’s eager endeavor to build its reputation as a rising global center of the future achieved by pushing Black, immigrant and queer communities into the poverty, invisibility, and perils of urban margins.
Ben Ladouceur accurately weaves Montreal’s gay scenes and subculture of the Expo-era into the contentious gap between the city’s much praised daytime governance of business, exhibitions, games, and transportation and the much complained nighttime governance over fraudulent commerce, sex work, and promiscuity at large. Swimming in the flood of city lights, the protagonist raises the question: Whose universe is “Montreal after dark”? Historian Matthieu Caron offers rich accounts of Montreal’s road to “nighttime regulation and the pursuit of a global city” in his eponymous book (McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2025). Ladouceur gives a warm literary tone to this historical window where the Drapeau administration struck social unrest and “incorporated the night into the expansionary tendencies of consumer capitalism” that would dictate “who had the right to public space at night” (Caron).
The World Expo brought to downtown Montreal a constant flow of global dignitaries, revenue, and expensive dreams of globalism. With it also came a closeted international labor force, from the UK, France, Israel, and many other countries, seeking temporary adventure and pleasure. The two disparate imaginations of “Montreal cosmopolitanism” intertwined and relied on each other. They mingled with the local lifestyle, transformed its diurnal rhythm, and redefined the meaning of “Montrealer” in blurry economic, political, cultural, and romantic terms.
Ladouceur’s juxtaposition of Expo ’67 and the gay lives rhetorically places the monumental and the minor cosmopolitanisms on the same future playground. One was not less than the other. On the one hand was the promise of an eternal carnival of global capitalist victory celebrated by the fantastical architectures on the Expo site that shone under the bright sun and were lit by blinding lights that would never dim. On the other, “men like us” were always subjected to the hostile gaze of heteronormativity and had to lead a life forbidden from light and flashing with ephemerality and uncertainty. Companionship was exciting but not going to last in Peel Pub, in Truxx, in the bathhouses, in Habitat 67, and in rented apartments.
Despite the temporariness of people, things and relationships, a queer solidarity arose from the messy non-alignment of individual destinies at a time when gay was life before it was identity. Lovers came and went. “The Earth had already moved too much for it to still exist.” The cheap and hurried construction of the Expo buildings didn’t escape the gay men’s scrutiny from near and from afar, perhaps because of their sensitivity to life’s precarity beneath flashy facade. The building material was not meant for eternity as the municipal and federal government would like it to. Their monumental spirit crumbled before their physical bodies succumbed to decay or demolition. The minor and ephemeral had their way to tell of the irony of global neoliberalism. In no time, the lavishly celebrated and the barely documented would both become specters in the glaring city lights. But only the quieter, the more invisible, would write of the specters.
Ben Ladouceur accurately weaves Montreal’s gay scenes and subculture of the Expo-era into the contentious gap between the city’s much praised daytime governance of business, exhibitions, games, and transportation and the much complained nighttime governance over fraudulent commerce, sex work, and promiscuity at large. Swimming in the flood of city lights, the protagonist raises the question: Whose universe is “Montreal after dark”? Historian Matthieu Caron offers rich accounts of Montreal’s road to “nighttime regulation and the pursuit of a global city” in his eponymous book (McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2025). Ladouceur gives a warm literary tone to this historical window where the Drapeau administration struck social unrest and “incorporated the night into the expansionary tendencies of consumer capitalism” that would dictate “who had the right to public space at night” (Caron).
The World Expo brought to downtown Montreal a constant flow of global dignitaries, revenue, and expensive dreams of globalism. With it also came a closeted international labor force, from the UK, France, Israel, and many other countries, seeking temporary adventure and pleasure. The two disparate imaginations of “Montreal cosmopolitanism” intertwined and relied on each other. They mingled with the local lifestyle, transformed its diurnal rhythm, and redefined the meaning of “Montrealer” in blurry economic, political, cultural, and romantic terms.
Ladouceur’s juxtaposition of Expo ’67 and the gay lives rhetorically places the monumental and the minor cosmopolitanisms on the same future playground. One was not less than the other. On the one hand was the promise of an eternal carnival of global capitalist victory celebrated by the fantastical architectures on the Expo site that shone under the bright sun and were lit by blinding lights that would never dim. On the other, “men like us” were always subjected to the hostile gaze of heteronormativity and had to lead a life forbidden from light and flashing with ephemerality and uncertainty. Companionship was exciting but not going to last in Peel Pub, in Truxx, in the bathhouses, in Habitat 67, and in rented apartments.
Despite the temporariness of people, things and relationships, a queer solidarity arose from the messy non-alignment of individual destinies at a time when gay was life before it was identity. Lovers came and went. “The Earth had already moved too much for it to still exist.” The cheap and hurried construction of the Expo buildings didn’t escape the gay men’s scrutiny from near and from afar, perhaps because of their sensitivity to life’s precarity beneath flashy facade. The building material was not meant for eternity as the municipal and federal government would like it to. Their monumental spirit crumbled before their physical bodies succumbed to decay or demolition. The minor and ephemeral had their way to tell of the irony of global neoliberalism. In no time, the lavishly celebrated and the barely documented would both become specters in the glaring city lights. But only the quieter, the more invisible, would write of the specters.
April 14, 2025
Book Review I Remember Lights by Ben Ladouceur
Publication Date: April 24/25
This is a beautiful and captivating debut novel that captures the exuberant innocence of a young man’s first exposure to gay life. Set against the backdrop of Montreal’s Expo67, this coming of age story twines the excitement and wonder of the Expo with a poignant exploration of identity, desire and belonging.
The unnamed narrator arrives from rural New Brunswick for what is meant to be a short holiday. When he experiences, for the first time, a man looking at him with desire, it feels like coming home. Impulsively choosing to stay in Montreal, he begins to explore the possibilities of life as a gay man - tentatively, passionately and with growing self awareness.
While much of the novel surrounds this exploration, it is interspersed with scenes from his older self, set over the course of one long night and morning; from a bathhouse warned of raids occurring, to a bar where an actual raid occurs, to a jail cell where he spends the night. This framing offers a haunting contrast between youthful idealism and the hard realities of a society that still criminalizes his existence.
Ladouceur portrays first love with accuracy, sensitivity and lyricism - the longing, the intensity, the uncertainty and the pain. The headiness of discovering one’s true self in an environment that embraces and welcomes him. The story elegantly captures the many ways gay men sought connection in a time when their lives were either ignored or despised. The result is a story that is both heart warming and deeply moving, infused with the exhilaration of first love, the freedom of youth and the heady openness of hope.
Set during a unique period in Montreal’s history; with Expo drawing in tourists and young people to work from all over the world; the narrator naively believes that living opening and honestly as a gay man is a choice. Freely available to him. He wants to live an unashamedly honest life. His innocence and strength of character are compelling, and make you long for the world he believes is possible.
The relationships in the novel are rendered with tenderness and authenticity. Friendship, love and connection pulse through every page, even when they are shadowed by fear or shame.
The narrator’s innocence is contrasted with his older self’s caution and hesitation, shaped by the weight of societal expectations and derision. However, his arrest provides him with one more opportunity to chose between remaining hidden or living with openness, optimism and hope. To chose between fear or freedom.
I fell in love with this book page by page. It’s compelling, heartfelt and superbly written creating an atmosphere of joy, hope and love. Ladouceur’s poetic background shines through in the lyrical quality of his prose, making this an extraordinary debut. I can’t wait to see what he writes in the future.
Publication Date: April 24/25
This is a beautiful and captivating debut novel that captures the exuberant innocence of a young man’s first exposure to gay life. Set against the backdrop of Montreal’s Expo67, this coming of age story twines the excitement and wonder of the Expo with a poignant exploration of identity, desire and belonging.
The unnamed narrator arrives from rural New Brunswick for what is meant to be a short holiday. When he experiences, for the first time, a man looking at him with desire, it feels like coming home. Impulsively choosing to stay in Montreal, he begins to explore the possibilities of life as a gay man - tentatively, passionately and with growing self awareness.
While much of the novel surrounds this exploration, it is interspersed with scenes from his older self, set over the course of one long night and morning; from a bathhouse warned of raids occurring, to a bar where an actual raid occurs, to a jail cell where he spends the night. This framing offers a haunting contrast between youthful idealism and the hard realities of a society that still criminalizes his existence.
Ladouceur portrays first love with accuracy, sensitivity and lyricism - the longing, the intensity, the uncertainty and the pain. The headiness of discovering one’s true self in an environment that embraces and welcomes him. The story elegantly captures the many ways gay men sought connection in a time when their lives were either ignored or despised. The result is a story that is both heart warming and deeply moving, infused with the exhilaration of first love, the freedom of youth and the heady openness of hope.
Set during a unique period in Montreal’s history; with Expo drawing in tourists and young people to work from all over the world; the narrator naively believes that living opening and honestly as a gay man is a choice. Freely available to him. He wants to live an unashamedly honest life. His innocence and strength of character are compelling, and make you long for the world he believes is possible.
The relationships in the novel are rendered with tenderness and authenticity. Friendship, love and connection pulse through every page, even when they are shadowed by fear or shame.
The narrator’s innocence is contrasted with his older self’s caution and hesitation, shaped by the weight of societal expectations and derision. However, his arrest provides him with one more opportunity to chose between remaining hidden or living with openness, optimism and hope. To chose between fear or freedom.
I fell in love with this book page by page. It’s compelling, heartfelt and superbly written creating an atmosphere of joy, hope and love. Ladouceur’s poetic background shines through in the lyrical quality of his prose, making this an extraordinary debut. I can’t wait to see what he writes in the future.
September 20, 2025
3.75
I remember lights is very introspective. Every visual observation is loaded with reflection and insight.
The side characters often felt like they were picked up and dropped off so suddenly, which I felt frustrated by, but also understood that it was intentional.
"You never know who it is you'll end up thinking about, deep in the future...And who won't turn out to matter a single bit"
I have no memory of learning about Expo in school. Strange to think something that sounds so fantastical and futuristic happened so many years ago, though I'm sure the magic of it was exaggerated somewhat by the narrator's bias - associating the fair with youth, curiosity, and discovery.
Something I didn't expect was that the story got smaller and sadder as it progressed, though I think this realistically shows how we lose our sense of imagination and possibility over time.
The ending scene was very sweet.
I remember lights is very introspective. Every visual observation is loaded with reflection and insight.
The side characters often felt like they were picked up and dropped off so suddenly, which I felt frustrated by, but also understood that it was intentional.
"You never know who it is you'll end up thinking about, deep in the future...And who won't turn out to matter a single bit"
I have no memory of learning about Expo in school. Strange to think something that sounds so fantastical and futuristic happened so many years ago, though I'm sure the magic of it was exaggerated somewhat by the narrator's bias - associating the fair with youth, curiosity, and discovery.
Something I didn't expect was that the story got smaller and sadder as it progressed, though I think this realistically shows how we lose our sense of imagination and possibility over time.
The ending scene was very sweet.
August 14, 2025
I wasn't sure what to expect when I started to read "I Remember Lights" written by Ben Ladouceur. I am happy to say that this was a very well written, endearing, and heartfelt story that captured my attention from the start and I couldn't put it down. It felt like I was reading about a dear childhood friend that I grew up with and that now, I was finally able to hear and understand his story, and what his life was probably like as a 19 year old young gay man in the 70's. I appreciated the historical presence of Expo, and the many references to the music I still love. I really liked reading a beautiful, descriptive, and emotional real and raw story that gave me a better understanding of how difficult life was, and often still is, to be gay. I didn't want the book to end. I still feel like I want to know more, I feel like I want to say thank you and I feel like this story doesn't end here. Congratulation's Ben on this exceptional book. I look forward to recommending it to my book club. This beautifully written story helped me learn more, and it helped me deepen my compassion for those who struggle. I loved it.
May 28, 2025
I loved this book. I'd describe it as a vibey LGBTQ coming-of-age novel, set in Montreal against the backdrop of Expo 67 and a 1977 police raid on a gay nightclub.
The author really captured the feeling of being new to a big city and experiencing a once-in-a-lifetime event, and trying to find your place within both that setting and as a gay man at a time when it wasn't always safe to be one. If you like Evenings and Weekends or Happy Hour, but want an LGBTQ angle, you'll love this one!
Thanks to the publisher Bookhug Press and River Street Writing for the ARC to review.
The author really captured the feeling of being new to a big city and experiencing a once-in-a-lifetime event, and trying to find your place within both that setting and as a gay man at a time when it wasn't always safe to be one. If you like Evenings and Weekends or Happy Hour, but want an LGBTQ angle, you'll love this one!
Thanks to the publisher Bookhug Press and River Street Writing for the ARC to review.
August 2, 2025
I did enjoy reading this but think there are some structural issues. The history of Expo and Truxx are the strongest parts, but the back and forth between events didn’t work for me really. I also felt the narrator was too emotionally distant. Unfortunately you can tell in some instances the author is writing about a time he didn’t experience himself, as the details he sprinkles in are inconsistently integrated into the story and feel random at times. I think this book could have been better with a proper editor working on it.
June 2, 2025
I hesitate to make rash comparisons but whatever, I Remember Lights has me feeling reckless and honest and so very in love. this is Stone Butch Blues’ queer coming-of-age landscape: discreet hookups, bathhouse raids, the people you meet along the way to the future. it’s Giovanni’s Room, a favourite motown record playing at the right kind of bar, drinking and dancing and heartbreak. there is so much history in this book (queer Montreal history!), and so much rash, reckless, repressed, real love.
November 8, 2025
It was OK - it took me a while to sort out what was in 1967 and what was in 1977. The narrator seemed to be a lost soul, trying to find himself and never quite getting there.
The final chapters, about the Truxx raid, was especially shocking in describing the police treatment of the "found-in"s. This for me is the most memorable thing about the book.
It merits almost a 3 star rating , but not quite.
The final chapters, about the Truxx raid, was especially shocking in describing the police treatment of the "found-in"s. This for me is the most memorable thing about the book.
It merits almost a 3 star rating , but not quite.
November 10, 2025
I picked this novel up because it was about the protagonist's time in Montreal during Expo 67. I had just moved there in December of 1966. I enjoyed his descriptions and experiences there. But the story of a young guy man's coming of age, when homosexuality was just beginning to be defended, was even more moving and interesting.
July 27, 2025
An important slice of Canadiana — memorializing Expo 67 — whilst also documenting a bit of pre-liberation gay life in Canada and England. Somehow, I feel both sadness for my elder brothers and also a kind of nostalgia for a gay culture that will never be again.
June 7, 2025
Just wonderful.
September 3, 2025
4.5 stars; the writing was so elegant and soothing, but the storyline could be really gritty and grim (as would be expected, but still hard to read some times).
September 7, 2025
Great insight to a period of Canadian history. My heart broke a few times when the protagonist's situation changed for the worst.
November 6, 2025
Kinda felt like a Canadian Giovanni’s room?? Loved it. Thought it was a really beautiful story of a gay man and his love. Simple as that!
April 29, 2025
I Remember Lights, poet Ben Ladouceur’s alternately poignant and blistering debut novel, is the engaging story of one young man navigating his way through a world hostile to gay culture in the 1960s and 1970s. The story is told in two threads, set ten years apart.
A major portion of the action takes place in Montreal during the summer of 1967: the summer of love, the summer of Canada’s Expo celebrations. A 19-year-old gay man has come to the city, having left his former life in the Canadian Maritimes behind. However, he has only a hazy notion what his new life is supposed to look like.
First, though, we encounter the same young man ten years later. In the first of several sections with the heading XX, it’s 1977. The narrator has returned to Montreal after time spent abroad. He has met a man, John, in a bathhouse. The two are immediately attracted to one another, and after the sauna they head out for a night of drinking and dancing at a well-known gay night spot, a bar called Truxx.
Chapter 1 of the main story follows. We’re in 1967 and our narrator is new to Montreal, trying to figure out what it means to be gay in a cosmopolitan setting. The people he meets find his naivety and innocence endearing, and he gradually learns the intricacies of living a gay life in hazardous times from a series of sex partners, friends and lovers who have been navigating these byways for years. Because in 1967 homosexuality was widely considered a deviant criminal practice and interpretation of the law was left to a police force with a reputation for intolerance and heavy-handed methods. Over several months, the narrator’s encounters reinforce in him the notion that survival depends on keeping his sexual nature private while convincingly masquerading as heterosexual. The narrator encounters a gay culture that is vibrant, but the community keeps to the shadows. Prudence is key and people live in fear of exposure. Ladouceur’s hero is self-effacing. Streetwise and observant, he manages for the most part to fly under the radar, living an unexceptional life, working a succession of menial jobs while conducting a discrete search for love. Eventually, he finds himself drawn to Tristan, a charismatic young man from Wales, an employee at the British pavilion at Expo who is in Canada temporarily. The two connect and form a trusting and loving bond. At the end of the summer, when Tristan is forced to leave Canada and return to the UK, the narrator follows, and for a time the two live as travel companions, hiding the truth of their relationship from those around them. Gradually, though, the narrator finds the constant need for secrecy increasingly burdensome and is disillusioned by Tristan’s skittish lack of commitment to the relationship.
In the XX sections, which are interspersed throughout the book, we follow John and the narrator to Truxx, where not long after their arrival, a police raid takes place. The two are rounded up along with dozens of other gay men and incarcerated for the night in squalid, over-crowded conditions. The next day, before being bailed out, they are subjected to the degrading ordeal of being tested for venereal disease. Throughout this experience they are treated with casual contempt by the officials they encounter.
Ladouceur’s prose is elegant without being flashy, polished without seeming overwrought. The novel is coherently structured, the story easy to follow. Its crucial moments flow logically from the action. I Remember Lights is a compulsively readable and highly accomplished piece of fiction.
By declining to name his protagonist, Ladouceur bestows his narrator with the status of a queer Everyman, making his experiences all the easier to empathize with. His rite of passage is simply an education in human fallibility, which is the same for all of us, queer or straight. If I Remember Lights has a message, it is one of hope, that we will never revert to a time when people were taught to hate who they are.
A major portion of the action takes place in Montreal during the summer of 1967: the summer of love, the summer of Canada’s Expo celebrations. A 19-year-old gay man has come to the city, having left his former life in the Canadian Maritimes behind. However, he has only a hazy notion what his new life is supposed to look like.
First, though, we encounter the same young man ten years later. In the first of several sections with the heading XX, it’s 1977. The narrator has returned to Montreal after time spent abroad. He has met a man, John, in a bathhouse. The two are immediately attracted to one another, and after the sauna they head out for a night of drinking and dancing at a well-known gay night spot, a bar called Truxx.
Chapter 1 of the main story follows. We’re in 1967 and our narrator is new to Montreal, trying to figure out what it means to be gay in a cosmopolitan setting. The people he meets find his naivety and innocence endearing, and he gradually learns the intricacies of living a gay life in hazardous times from a series of sex partners, friends and lovers who have been navigating these byways for years. Because in 1967 homosexuality was widely considered a deviant criminal practice and interpretation of the law was left to a police force with a reputation for intolerance and heavy-handed methods. Over several months, the narrator’s encounters reinforce in him the notion that survival depends on keeping his sexual nature private while convincingly masquerading as heterosexual. The narrator encounters a gay culture that is vibrant, but the community keeps to the shadows. Prudence is key and people live in fear of exposure. Ladouceur’s hero is self-effacing. Streetwise and observant, he manages for the most part to fly under the radar, living an unexceptional life, working a succession of menial jobs while conducting a discrete search for love. Eventually, he finds himself drawn to Tristan, a charismatic young man from Wales, an employee at the British pavilion at Expo who is in Canada temporarily. The two connect and form a trusting and loving bond. At the end of the summer, when Tristan is forced to leave Canada and return to the UK, the narrator follows, and for a time the two live as travel companions, hiding the truth of their relationship from those around them. Gradually, though, the narrator finds the constant need for secrecy increasingly burdensome and is disillusioned by Tristan’s skittish lack of commitment to the relationship.
In the XX sections, which are interspersed throughout the book, we follow John and the narrator to Truxx, where not long after their arrival, a police raid takes place. The two are rounded up along with dozens of other gay men and incarcerated for the night in squalid, over-crowded conditions. The next day, before being bailed out, they are subjected to the degrading ordeal of being tested for venereal disease. Throughout this experience they are treated with casual contempt by the officials they encounter.
Ladouceur’s prose is elegant without being flashy, polished without seeming overwrought. The novel is coherently structured, the story easy to follow. Its crucial moments flow logically from the action. I Remember Lights is a compulsively readable and highly accomplished piece of fiction.
By declining to name his protagonist, Ladouceur bestows his narrator with the status of a queer Everyman, making his experiences all the easier to empathize with. His rite of passage is simply an education in human fallibility, which is the same for all of us, queer or straight. If I Remember Lights has a message, it is one of hope, that we will never revert to a time when people were taught to hate who they are.
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