Small Game Hunting at the Local Coward Gun Club

by Megan Gail Coles

February in Newfoundland is the longest month of the year.

Another blizzard is threatening to tear a strip off downtown St. John’s, while inside The Hazel restaurant a storm system of sex, betrayal, addiction, and hurt is breaking overhead. Iris, a young hostess from around the bay, is forced to pull a double despite resolving to avoid the charming chef and his wealthy restaurateur wife. Just tables over, Damian, a hungover and self-loathing server, is trying to navigate a potential punch-up with a pair of lit customers who remain oblivious to the rising temperature in the dining room. Meanwhile Olive, a young woman far from her northern home, watches it all unfurl from the fast and frozen street. Through rolling blackouts, we glimpse the truth behind the shroud of scathing lies and unrelenting abuse, and discover that resilience proves most enduring in the dead of this winter’s tale.

By turns biting, funny, poetic, and heartbreaking, Megan Gail Coles’ debut novel rips into the inner lives of a wicked cast of characters, building towards a climax that will shred perceptions and force a reckoning. This is blistering Newfoundland Gothic for the twenty-first century, a wholly original, bracing, and timely portrait of a place in the throes of enormous change, where two women confront the traumas of their past in an attempt to overcome the present and to pick up a future.

Genres: Fiction, Canada, Contemporary, Book Club, Literary Fiction, Canadian Literature, Feminism

425 pages, Kindle Edition

First published February 12, 2019

About the author

Megan Coles is a graduate of Memorial University of Newfoundland and the National Theatre School of Canada. She is co-founder and co-artistic director of Poverty Cove Theatre Company. Megan is currently working on a trilogy of plays examining resource exploitation in Newfoundland and Labrador titled Falling Trees, Building Houses and Wasting Paper. She is a member of the Writers' Alliance of Newfoundland and Labrador, Playwrights' Guild of Canada, Playwrights' Atlantic Resource Centre and Playwrights' Workshop Montreal. Her completed plays include Our Eliza, The Battery and Bound. Megan, originally from Savage Cove on the Great Northern Peninsula, currently resides in St. John's where she works at Breakwater Books. Eating Habits of the Chronically Lonesome is Megan's first fiction.

Reviews

[David · Rating 4 out of 5]

The epigraph reads "This might hurt a little - be brave."
Lord thunderin' Jesus there is dark stuff ahead rendered in some of the most compelling prose I've read from this year's Giller shortlist. Jaw-dropping at times. It's Valentines Day at the Hazel in downtown St. John's Newfoundland and no one is getting out unscathed. It's a bleak #MeToo novel, examining toxic masculinity, an enabling culture, and little in the way of a clear or even hopeful path through.

Megan Gail Coles is unflinching, completely merciless, and sentiment free in her writing. I found the start disjointed and unfamiliar but it came sharply into focus like a roadside accident you can't look away from. You're compelled yet can't help but feel horrifyingly voyeuristic and implicated by your gaze. I can't wait to see what she's got in store next.

[Enid Wray · Rating 2 out of 5]

The publisher blurb refers to this, among other things, as biting, and funny. Biting, yes. Funny, no, not in the least. There is terrible trauma - brutality - here, and my heart bleeds for the lives of Olive and Iris… Olive in particular.

But the narration keeps the reader at such a distance that I am never drawn into the story. Indeed it is only after an horrific event - nearing page 300 - that I really connect with any of the characters and begin to really connect with the story... and the novel, finally, finds itself.

Until this point, as much as I empathise with the characters and feel for their pain, I never really feel or care about them as individuals. There are far too many characters to ever get invested in… and far too much detail to wade through. While the issues with the narration would have remained the same, this book would have done better with at least 100 pages edited out of it.

The subject matter Coles mines here is important, so critically important, and I laud her for turning her pen to it. But I don’t see a wide range of readers sticking with this. It was a chore to read this... and it shouldn’t have been.

[Darryl Suite · Rating 5 out of 5]

FINAL REVIEW: The epigraph said "This might hurt a little. Be brave." No, this hurt A LOT. If you’re looking for the most “Me Too” book you’ll ever come across; that dissects toxic masculinity in true takedown type fashion, HERE YOU GO:

How does one categorize Small Game Hunting? Is it a tragedy? A cautionary tale? Who cares? It’s cutthroat. Most of these characters would be content with just an ounce of natural human connection, instead they have to settle with a heavy dose of self-destruction and self-medicating. This is a dark character study on the impact toxic masculinity has on all of their lives. Several of the characters have ugly hearts, but Coles manages to make them all incredibly human (and it’s an uncomfortable accomplishment). Coles gets you to gain perspective, make you understand just how someone could manifest into the horrifying person they’ve become. This is not just a victim vs. predator type novel. It shows us that witnesses to bad behavior are also part of the problem, those of us who remain silent and do nothing to help, are perhaps even worse than the guilty parties.

I wish I could’ve seen my own facial expression while reading this unnerving piece of fiction. There are two scenes that truly messed me up. One made my skin crawl; I wanted to speed through it, but it was impossible to do so because Coles won’t let you. It was stomach-churning and I was left feeling helpless. The other involves a character using the word “mine” several times. I won't tell you the context of the scene, but it is disturbing and anger-inducing. It's the most psychologically haunting scene / image I've read in any book this year. *shudder* ------ With this book, expect themes on toxic masculinity, infidelity, substance abuse, neglect, sexual assault, sexual harrassment, rape culture, obsession, dependency, posessiveness, homophobia, and identity. VICIOUS. ANGRY. INTENSE. RELENTLESS. BRUTAL. AND VERY, VERY, VERY DARK. Oof.

https://www.instagram.com/p/B_ktL_qA-...

[Krista · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is not infatuation.
This is small game hunting at the local coward gun club. And what is worse, as every stroke of recognition is finally delivered hard against Iris's hurt timepiece, is that all was lost the moment she opened the door and let him step across the threshold. He wanted her less from there.

As a sort of trigger warning, author Megan Gail Coles prefaces Small Game Hunting at the Local Coward Gun Club with a page stating in full: This might hurt a little. Be brave. (And this after a dedication page which says, “I wrote this for myself. And the beautiful vicious island that makes and unmakes us.”) At the Giller Prize ceremony (for which this title had been shortlisted), Coles called this book “an act of resistance”, and taken all together, it's fair warning that Coles has a lot of opinions to share and she doesn't care who she offends with them. The story itself paints a bleak picture of life in modern day Newfoundland – not only the weather on a blustery, sleety Valentine's Day, but the current social conditions in this have-again/have-not-again province – and with off-putting details (so much vomit, phlegm, and semen) and persistent power struggles (sexism, classism, racism), there is, indeed, something challenging on nearly every page. People are poor and struggling, fragile hearts are broken, the undeserving (read: men; read: white men) get away with their wickedness. Add to this the literary devices used – omniscient narration jumping from character to character without warning or context, no quotation marks for dialogue, confusing chunks that require a reread for understanding – and Coles is demanding a lot from her audience. Despite experiencing as more dense than truly necessary, I did find this read to be ultimately rewarding; Coles can definitely write and the world she reveals here is one that those from away ought to see.

Despite its large cast of characters, this is essentially the story of two young women from a rural outpost in Newfoundland's Great Northern Peninsula, now trying to survive in St. John's. Olive – half-Native and raised mostly in bad foster care situations – is spending the snowy day away from her apartment in order to avoid her landlord and his demands for overdue rent:

Olive: whose gentlemen callers are never gentle or men but dregs of former humans driving red pickups full of smoke. Their pumping cherries recalling every murder program ever aired to warn, no, educate, no, remind, no, inform single women of the danger lurking just outside their double-locked doors, checked and rechecked and checked again for certainty.

And Iris: a painter who went to art school in Toronto but who now hostesses at the chic restaurant “The Hazel” in St. John's, and who is sleeping with its handsome, but married, chef:

Iris was meant to want nothing, demand less, not more. Her father's absence laying well the groundwork for the first one and then the next one and then John. He had told her in an honest afterglow that they were not even half a thing. Not even half a thing, ringing on repeat in her head. One foot in front of the other through the slush on the downgrade toward The Hazel. Not even half of something. She has learned to abuse herself in a misguided attempt to thwart expectation. You don't deserve any better. But very deep inside her body a tiny voice whispers into soft cupped hands...
...but you do.

Olive is hanging around The Hazel to keep warm out of the weather, and although Iris only showed up to pick up her paycheque, she is convinced to work a double shift in the dining room as a storm threatens outside and staff call in to say they can't get through the snow. Her fragile heart well and truly broken by John the chef, Iris is finally willing to consider her best friend Jo's estimate of him:

Jo would say he is a predator. The worst kind of man. A faux-minist. A liar. He made Iris believe in a falsehood. Fooled her. Groomed her. Identified the want in her and pretend-extended this back, though slightly out of reach of Iris's grasping hands. He kept her reaching and now she has been stretched beyond herself. No longer knowing her own mind.

To add to Iris's near-resolve to finally end this “not even half a thing” with John, his wife, George – the money behind the restaurant and the wallet John refuses to leave – decides to help out in the dining room, and as the storm builds outside and a variety of customers make their way through the restaurant, it becomes clear that the plot is working towards an explosive climax.

Most every character gets a complex backstory, and while this makes for some nice moments and proves that Coles really knows these people she has created, it also made the book feel longer than necessary. (I loved the vignette with little Iris in a sled with her cousins and her Nan – her Pop pulling the sled through the snow with a Skidoo while their ersatz sled-dogs run joyfully alongside – and I was glad it was in here, but did it really belong in here?) I see that Cole's last release was a book of short stories and that makes so much sense: these short but complex backstories seem more suited to the short story form, and maybe that's why this novel has the feel of a nonlinear mashup. These meanderings into non-main characters' histories also allow Coles to get more broadly political. The mayor of St. John's (snarkily referred to as “Major” David) has lunch in The Hazel, and not only does he overtly present as the worst example of privileged, old white male (gets away with abusing the wait staff, mentally explains why he refuses to tip), but cut jumps to other scenes with him justify our dislike of him:

You know, Joanna, that I did not invent the Keurig, right? Though I wish I had. And off she went pontificating about the coffin-maker not committing the crime. Major David chewed down slowly while peering over her shoulder for an exit. Had there not been a number of junior staffers in the kitchenette that day, he would have just walked away from her. Just stop listening was a tactic he regularly employed. He left conversations with his wife and daughters all the time. It was a vagina-proof strategy.

There's a waiter, Damian, whose extraneous scenes do shine a light on an important through story, but the narrative of how he ruined his relationship with his partner was less integral, and the story of how Damien's mother became involved in gambling and embezzlement from work was even less related to the main story – but it did allow Coles to make this strange commentary on newspaper paywalls:

The people in charge, having allowed most, many, okay, more than before, the privilege of literacy, had now deemed having an educated citizenship a right hassle so were marking it up in a hurry, man. If motivation could overcome the hesitation and apathy long enough to scale that wall, people still would know that Dot was scared and full of remorse.

For the most part, the men in this story are pretty awful (except for Damien [probably because he's gay] and Omi [probably because he's an immigrant]), and while there is some understanding shown towards men who are under the constant pressure of having their livelihoods taken away as industry after industry collapses in Newfoundland, there's plenty of blame apportioned to the women who love to make excuses for their men; women who are quick to besmirch the reputation of any woman who cries rape (“Is it possible to rape a slut? Is it possible to rape a whore? Do you remember what little Jimmy looked like in his First Communion photo?”) and women who are quick to socially freeze out any abandoned mother who would dare to demand child support from their cash-strapped son or brother; on the rock, blood ties run much deeper than any notion of universal sisterhood. To comment on the political, sometimes Coles gets snarky (but does the tone serve the message?):

Rape is a powerful word well-despised by rapists the world over, because they rightfully don't like being called out for what they are or what they do as it will for sure impact their ability to continue doing so. Not full on prevent them from continuing to rape, but it is a kind of inconvenience in life moving forward.

At the Gillers, Coles pointed to Olive and Iris as the heart of her book, and I'd agree that it is their challenging stories that give this narrative poignancy. I see other reviewers commenting on this book's cover (it really is gorgeous) and wanted to end on the quote that inspired it:

Olive offers, I saw a pink caribou once.
And Iris nods and says, I want to be like that. After. I want to be a whole new animal.

Maybe not perfectly assembled, but there is much to love in the parts of this book

[Orla Hegarty · Rating 1 out of 5]

I am tossing this at 100 pages. Lots of shallowly developed characters. Alienating (all over the place?) writing style. Not my cup of tea.

[Debbie Bateman · Rating 5 out of 5]

I enjoy many books, but only a few register at a deep enough level to change me as a human. This is one of those. It is a wonder of a book, full of magic. I adore the fluidity of Megan Gail Coles' style, how she moves from external to internal, personal to collective, dialogue to action with no need for signposts. All that nonsense about show don't tell and other rules writers tell themselves... is all of it a mistake? I wonder. This book feels like life itself feels and she had me from the first page. Megan Gail Coles has assembled a host of voices and given each the fullness of story, all the while taking us through a larger arc that speaks to a cultural truth we must all acknowledge in one way or another. Such bravery and truth. My heart well and truly broke… but then found resilience enough to keep beating. If you read nothing else this year, read this.

[Allison · Rating 4 out of 5]

Well this was a ride.

Coles is INTENSE and intelligent and pointed. She's angry at times, and you can taste it in her writing. The first 150 pages were tough-going. If it weren't for making the Canada Reads 2020 shortlist, I definitely would have given up on this book.

But there's this scene mid-way that no one I know can look away from. A horrific scene but described so astutely, so intelligently, that I kept on reading just to eat up the words. At that point in the book I was convinced that the writing was worth it, and I was rewarded by the end.

If you're thinking of giving up on this book, I cast a strong vote for persevering. Just continue on. It's not easy, no. But do keep going. I'll read Coles' next book for sure, and I wouldn't have said that in the first half of the book.

[Jill · Rating 5 out of 5]

This dark and propulsive book is prefaced with these portentous words: "This may hurt a little. Be brave."

So forewarned, I dove in. And yes, this debut novel requires bravery. It is, after all, about damaged characters (and aren't we all a little damaged?) who hide their hurt or in some cases, wear it on their sleeve. It is about women who allow the men in their lives to fill them with emotional toxins until they figuratively writhe on the floor as collateral damage. It is about bad people who prey on these women and good people who turn the other way or rationalize what they know deep down and won't admit.

In short, it's about the challenging world we live in-a world of possibilities that is also laced with misogyny and racism and unfaithfulness and class distinctions and addiction and grotesque rape and what it feels like to finally break through the so-called moral silence.

The book takes place in a restaurant called The Hazel in Newfoundland during a Valentine's Day snowstorm. We meet Olive first, who is a quixotic spectator-of-sorts who loiters outside the dining area. Her role is not fleshed out and it will be a while to truly meet her again, but she is the moral compass of the story.

There is John, the celebrated and good-looking chef who is bankrolled by his wife Georgia. Iris, the mixed race hostess who has had the misfortune to fall in love with him. Damien, a gay man who is self-destructive and morally challenged. And Calv, who is an enabler for his friend Roger, who is just a bad guy. These characters overlap as the storm swirls outside-and inside, in their own lives.

Certainly this is not a book for those who love Pollyanna characters and linear plots. Megan Gail Coles is a playwright and it shows - in the dialogue, in the sui generis voice, and in her careful use of settings and ambiance. There is gloriously-crafted language here, punctuated by deep insights into the human psyche. For those of us who don't want to be spoon-fed our plots or characters-and I am one of them-take a deep breath and dive in. And, if you need one more reason, consider that the book is a Scotiabank Giller Prize Finalist. My big thanks to House of Anansi, who accepted my request to be an advance reader in exchange for an honest review.

[AMANDA · Rating 5 out of 5]

If you know me on Goodreads at all, I've kept it no secret how much I absolutely hate when authors don't use quotation marks in their dialogue. It can throw off the entire flow of a book for me, I don't understand what the appeal is (for a writer or a reader), and I am just not a fan. So, when I say now that Small Game Hunting, it turns out, is the only book wherein the author chose not use quotations and I didn't even mind it all... that should be a pretty good indicator of how much I adored this book.

It is a demanding book in some ways. You cannot go into it with the intention of only just breezing or skimming through a few pages without any real commitment. You have to allow it your full attention. Once you're in, you can't look away. For me, it was an experience - which can be a pretty cliche thing to say, but I know for me, I don't say it often when it comes to books. There was something different about it, and yes, it's a little rocky at first, but after about 25 pages or so, I was fully caught up to its beat and I was all in.

This book hurt me. It even says it might at the beginning - "This might hurt a little - be brave". It is a close-knit slice of life that is incredibly character-driven. Just kind of skimming over some of the reviews and seeing some other readers of the book assess it as being shallow in the character department really shocks me, because I didn't read it like that at all. In fact, I'd say that the characters within Small Game Hunting are some of the most fully realized characters I've ever read. I recognized traits in them, I genuinely hated others (it's hard to hate someone, even a character, if they're too flat to really know), and I had so much compassion for others.

But getting back to the book hurting. It might hurt a little, as Megan Gail Coles cautions. For me, it hurt a lot. Not in a way that it made me want to resist reading further, but in the way that through Megan's writing I came to feel very, very deeply about everything within the story she had written. Especially for her two main characters of Iris and Olive. The book deals with themes of power imbalances, race, sex, poverty, and rape culture. When people talk about books being 'hard-hitting', this is the type of book they mean.

If you pick up this book, you'll notice it comes with another warning - that it contains scenes of physical, psychological and sexual abuse. And I'd definitely encourage you to earnestly consider that before getting into this book. If those things can be triggering to you, please be kind to yourself and make sure that you are in the right headspace to take the book on. I'd also highly encourage others not to recommend the book without giving mention of that warning. For me personally, I definitely felt that when certain scenes (one in particular, actually) took place, it provoked some upsetting memories, and the absolutely incredible examination of rape culture that Megan Gail Coles gives directly afterward, while courageous and bold, was also something that caused me some upset (just because of how true it is and how spot-on her commentary is). But what I love about Megan so much, and what really secured my admiration for her as a person, was hearing her speak about the book on CBC's Next Chapter. She speaks so eloquently about her characters and her book, but what she had to say about putting the content warning I speak of at the beginning of the book really stood out to me and I want to share it here. In the podcast she says: "I have no intention to do any further harm. My intention as a writer, as an artist, as a member of my community, as an activist, is to help us face something that we need to face in order to improve the quality of all of our lives. So I would never intentionally trick people into engaging with material that I knew would potentially be damaging for them. I want them to know what they're getting into before they get into the book, because I would not want to in any way inflict further pain on them. The people that are going to find the book the most painful are likely the people who have encountered some of the most damaging behaviours that are explored in the novel. And that's mostly who I'm writing for, not against".

I love Megan Gail Coles and this most powerful, brilliant, heartbreaking and captivating novel of hers.

[Penny (Literary Hoarders)]

I'm shelving into my DNF folder. I don't have the time or patience to continue. The list of books to read is far and wide and long. I strongly feel the Giller will/should go to Crummey.

[Stitching Ghost · Rating 3 out of 5]

The prose wasn't beautiful enough for me to overlook the fact that there is no plot here, just a lot of trauma in a stylistically frustrating format.

Neutral 2.5 rounded up.

[Rosemary · Rating 5 out of 5]

An absolutely brilliant and powerful read. I often had to stop mid-page so I could fully appreciate the depth of the author's understanding, compassion and empathy for her characters. A distinct writing style that takes some time to get used to but is so distinct and authentic, funny at times and turns the world around on its head. I can't wait to read it again. It is so satisfying to discover a new and talented Canadian writer with a unique voice.

[Wendy · Rating 3 out of 5]

Small Game Hunting at the Local Coward Gun Club, by Megan Gail Coles, is a finalist in Canada Reads 2020.
The warning at the beginning of the book holds true 'This might hurt a little. Be Brave'.
This novel takes place over one day, Valentines Day, in urban Newfoundland during a brutal blizzard.
It tells the story of numerous characters at a local restaurant - The Hazel. Daunting at the beginning trying to follow along, but once I got them straight the story started to flow, darkly very darkly.
Sex, betrayal, addiction and hurt surround this tale until the end.
Hard to get through, for a number of reasons, but worth it in the end.

[Brandon · Rating 2 out of 5]

In Small Game Hunting at the Local Coward Gun Club, it’s February and it's snowing heavily. You’re trapped inside The Hazel - a small restaurant in St. John’s, Newfoundland.  Everyone from the owner to the serving staff are keeping secrets from one another and over time, have become tangled up in each other’s lives.  As the day progresses, the temperature will rise and tensions will boil over.

I’m sorry, but this book was way too long.

The length is my biggest complaint and the main reason I had the most trouble with it.  There are a lot of characters here, or at least it felt like a lot.  Megan Gail Coles dug deep into each character and offered up tremendous depth and backstory, but I had a hard time connecting with any of them after a while.  The only two characters that struck a chord with me were Olive and Iris and even then, their lives were so desperately bleak and painful that after spending so much time with them, I became numb to their respective situations.

There were also two extremely difficult scenes in this book (and this is coming from someone who had read a book about 9/11 in the past month) that I struggled with.  It’s hard to talk about one specifically without giving away a rather big moment in the story, but I could have done without it.  As far as the other one goes, people sensitive to animal death should be forewarned.

The book isn’t terrible by any means, so I don’t want to give that impression.  In fact, Coles’ raw, unflinching writing style is one of the best I’ve read in quite some time.  For one character in particular, she alters her narration to fit the voice of a heavily accented Newfoundlander and being from the east coast myself, I could hear the voice so clearly in my head.  One thing I will say - and I’ve said it before in the past - I hate it when authors decide to go without quotation marks.  I don’t understand why you would do it and I have no idea stylistically what you’re trying to achieve.  There is a dialogue-heavy scene near the book’s conclusion where three people are arguing and I got so lost.  Very frustrating.

By the time I reached the three hundred page mark, I was completely worn out.  However, when I got to the ending, Coles knocked my socks off.  Despite that gut punch of a finale, I don’t believe the journey was worth the destination.  There is a great book in here though, just maybe if it was 100 pages shorter.

For those interested in the two moments I was eluding to above:

There is a scene where a cat is killed by a group of teens via torture
There is a graphic gang rape scene involving one of the central characters

[Kyra Leseberg (Roots & Reads)]

Ouch, this DNF was a quick decision.

While the writing knocked me out in some instances, I could not settle into the story or get comfortable with any of the characters we were jumping between.

[Alex · Rating 4 out of 5]

It took me a while to finish this and to be frank there are moments the plotting lagged. But in the end I did find the writing and story quite riveting. Coles has a long career ahead of her and looking forward to more great books from her in the future.

[K.R. Wilson · Rating 5 out of 5]

Megan Gail Coles’s Small Game Hunting at the Local Coward Gun Club is literally stunning: at one point I just sat there stunned for a bit, letting what I’d read settle. Its one-day main narrative is far from the whole story, as Coles takes us deeply into the lives and minds of her characters, exposing the wrenching traumas, pointless regrets, self-serving rationalizations and inextinguishable flickers of hope that have brought them all together. It’s a novel of place, of perceptions, of insightful observation, and of brilliantly crafted phrases.

[❀ Susan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Wow! What a book! I am glad that I persevered and will be pondering this story and the eclectic group of characters for a while. I had to read the first 35 pages 3 times and did struggle through the dense prose but it was worth the challenging read.

After hearing Megan Gail Coles speak at the Canada Reads kick off, I could hear her voice as I read the story. Her writing is amazing, readers can picture the characters who are all connected in unfortunate ways.

After reading a number of books with a Newfoundland setting, I am in dire need of a happier book set in this province!

[Anne Logan · Rating 3 out of 5]

Long title, long book. Small Game Hunting at the Local Coward Gun Club by Megan Gail Coles may scare off people for a few different reasons, one of them being the warning issued at the beginning:

“This might hurt a little. Be brave.

But those who are brave will be rewarded. I won’t say I was one of the brave ones, I HAD to read this book because I’m defending it for the Giller Light Party next Monday, but I’m glad I did anyway because it was a worthwhile read. Not an altogether pleasant read, but a memorable one. It’s a book I’d recommend to others, just so they can see how other Canadians live. For someone who lives in Calgary, this book introduced me to a whole other side of Canada I’ve never experienced, but of course, I’m now dying to visit myself (in summer).

The story takes place on Valentine’s Day in St. John’s Newfoundland. (Note for my non-Canadian readers: I’m a Canadian born and raised, but I’ve never been to Newfoundland, many Canadians haven’t. It’s a large island on our east coast and can be quite expensive to get to, although boasts some of our most beautiful landscapes. It’s also considered one of Canada’s more ‘rugged’ urban areas.) Coles is aware that her book may be an introduction for many to this area, yet doesn’t sugarcoat how brutal it can be in the winter. Biting cold and unceasing winds along the coastline is just the beginning as to why this area may seem uninhabitable in the winter months.

We’re introduced to quite a few characters who we jump back and forth between. One man is cheating on his wife with an employee, another man is trying desperately to be the good person his mother raised him to be, and one woman is struggling with the painful imprint of a childhood in foster care, steering her into the arms of all the wrong people. Drugs and alcoholism rear their ugly heads throughout most of this narrative, making already intolerable situations even worse. Like the title suggests, the weak are preyed upon by those who should know better, empathy an emotion that is pushed out of the way by more pressing matters. Women suffer the most in this book, but machismo rather than men are the target of Coles’s scorn. And most bad deeds germinate out of earlier abusive treatment or resentments; many seem to be struggling with significant burdens: emotional or otherwise.

But it’s too easy to draw character lines as us vs. them. One of the ‘villains’ of the book, George, is actually the woman being cheated on, and she seems to lack almost any empathy at all. But instead of pointing out the differences between her and Iris (the mistress) we realize both women (and to some extent the men) are being shaped by outside forces; some have a safety net while others don’t. George is incredibly rich, so she has a safety net, although she’s prey to society’s expectations all the same:

“Her father remarked that she was much too stern. Be like that if you want, my girl, but you will be alone. So she softened. Made herself sweet. Wore pastels and said please (p. 121)”

Bloody good that did her! But again, I think that’s Coles’s point, these are expectations that are placed upon us for no good reason, with no guarantee of happiness at the end.

The only problem I had with this book is the number of characters; as I started reading there were far too many for me to keep track of and their stories started to blend together. Once I settled in, I was able to follow the perspective changes clearly, but I find this initial confusion frustrating and avoidable as a reader. That’s a small quibble for an otherwise thought-provoking read, and for those who worry it may be TOO dark for them, there are moments of humour to lighten up most scenes. I recommend listening to interviews with Coles so her voice is well-imprinted in your mind before you begin. I held her voice (with its Newfoundland accent) in my head as I read, and it added a colour to the writing that made the words even more vivid and provocative. I

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[switterbug (Betsey) · Rating 5 out of 5]

It was a stark and stormy day. The story takes place in St John’s, the capital of Newfoundland and Labrador, over the course of a day, during a cold February blizzard. Much of the central action takes place in a trendy bar and restaurant, The Hazel. A diverse staff of bay residents reside there, some from the impoverished classes, and the owner a wealthy woman, George, married to the serial womanizing chef, John (a former financially struggling cook). A few inhabitants that aren’t employed there visit or spend time on the periphery. Coles is also a playwright, and her theater background is evident in her use of dialogue—lots of it, and the manner in which the cast seems to sharply emerge from the shadows or disappear into the dark. There’s a linear plot nestled inside the characters’ non-linear background stories. The suspense builds steadily through the snow squall, enclosing us fully till the show-stopping end. It’s a character-driven tale of icy adventure in a turbulent and emotional landscape.

Iris, a young woman of mixed racial heritage, and eternally insecure about her value, is in the crisis throes of her two-year affair with John. He dithers between his selfish needs: die to have her or kill her to get away. The push-pull on Iris’s heart is reaching a climax, and the reader is pulled taut in latent and active events. “This is small game hunting at the local coward gun club...And what is worse, as every stroke of recognition is finally fully delivered hard against Iris’s hurt timepiece, is that all was lost the moment she opened the door and let him step across the threshold. He wanted her less from there.” It’s a lust and obsession story with teeth, not a trivial love triangle. Moreover, there are various other characters grappling with profound personal issues: addiction, loneliness, violence, homophobia, depression. It’s droll, intense, and ripe with inevitable confrontations.

The most enigmatic character is Olive, a rural native who now lives in St. John’s. She doesn’t work at the Hazel, but periodically visits Iris or hangs at the edges of the place. Her presence early on is the most mysterious of all, but I felt the pulse of it immediately, and knew somewhere in my heart that she would break it. Her story, I sensed, may be pivotal to the action. Then there are the diners during this blizzard, including a table of cruel, elitist prigs, and a twin brother and sister who eat here weekly. The circle widens to include friends, family, and frenemies that connect to the Hazel in close or distant ways. A crew of criminals add a stain of menace that permeates the pages; the peril is palpable but at first indefinable. Later, vivid and blistering events crushed me to my core.

Megan Gail Coles wrote in her epigraph to the novel: “This might hurt a little. Be brave.” Stoke your courage, readers. It’s thoroughly worth it!

Thank you to House of Anansi for sending me a copy for review.

[Mary Lins · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Small Game Hunting at the Local Coward Gun Club", by Megan Gail Coles, has already become a finalist for several Canadian book awards. Just a few pages in I understood why it is receiving such accolades; it’s quite unusual and it takes a bit of attention from the reader to get into the flow of the narrative, though this challenge is well worth it. With narratives that ask the reader to adjust a bit, I recommend setting aside time to read in “chunks”, which is what I did with this unique novel. It’s brilliant, dark, tense, and the omniscient narrator is quite often hilarious.

Set in St. John’s, Newfoundland, at a restaurant called The Hazel, the story takes place in one day. There are a LOT of characters and each has a unique “voice”, and we are dropped into a seemingly random Tuesday morning of each character’s life without backstory. Accept the challenge to put the pieces together; Coles knows what she’s doing here; things become clearer, relationships are revealed. Coles could have written this another way, but her narrative choices are why this novel has gotten the well-deserved critical acclaim and the award recognition that it has in Canada.
Most of the main characters work at The Hazel and the novel opens as they begin to arrive for work. The novel is partitioned into the restaurant’s day: “Prep”, “Lunch”, and “Dinner”. Let me make it a little bit easier for you, here are the main characters introduced in “Pre”:

John is the chef
George (Georgina) is John’s wife
Iris is the hostess
Ben is the bartender
Olive is a country girl, orphan, addict, that John let’s sleep in the doorway
Damian is a server
Omi is the dishwasher/janitor/heavy lifter
Calv has tried to help Olive in the past

Don’t be misled by the title; it’s a metaphor, The Hazel being compared to a gun club for hunters of small game. This is a novel about man’s inhumanity to women, and like animal hunters, some of them are predators who entice their prey before slaughtering them.

By way of both a warning and review: there is an excruciating and long scene of sexual assault where we are privy to what EVERYONE involved is thinking, and it is written so so well, that I found I had physically gripped the book so hard that my hands hurt, while nodding in recognition of the utter “truth” of the whole horrible description Coles crafted so skillfully.

“Small Game Hunting at the Local Coward Gun Club” will ask the reader to venture out of their comfort zone, in both the reading experience, and in bearing witness to the incredible amount of pain that these characters both carry and cause. It is difficult to read at times, but I found it to be profoundly moving and thought-provoking and a novel I will not soon forget. Humbly adding to Coles’ list of prizes - this novel will go on my personal 2020 Top Ten List, as well.

(A wonderful novella about a restaurant that I highly recommend is “Last Night at the Lobster” by Stewart O’Nan.)

[Caro · Rating 1 out of 5]

The cast of characters in this book fall into three camps: tragically traumatized women, self serving and cruel men, and righteous and pontificating hipsters.

Can't decide whether the characters are realistic or stereotypical, but regardless, I didn't enjoy reading 400 tedious pages of their internal dialogues as they treat one another terribly. The characters only see the worst in themselves and each other, resulting in zero moments of joy and redemption in this read.

The writing is often beautiful though sometimes the metaphors felt forced.

[Magdelanye · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is small game hunting at the local cowards club, p156
romanticism is for the emotionally crippled, sexually confused, and teenagers. p26

It's Valentines day and in Newfoundland the energy of the snowstorm is swirling around the Hazel restaurant, which is trying its best to provide service, despite the meltdown amongst the staff and management.

Bad behaviours don't just miraculously disappear. They are but rearranged. p345
On days when there is no change in illumination, people accidentally hurt themselves. p72
Life is not a fucking pop song. p336

This is not an easy book. It is difficult to enter and to figure out the many characters and then, just when the reader begins to relax and get a grip on this steamy little universe, MGC, with brutal clarity, goes for the jugular . Skilful writing and deep insight have given us a masterpiece of social critique.

Everyone knows what's wrong in their heart...it's their brains that don't know stuff anymore. p258

I did not especially want to read this and passed on it when I first saw it on the library new arrivals shelf. Something about the title offputting to my pacifist soul; something about that deer on the cover, looking as if is staring down a gun. It was a surprise to me that people were raving about it, and that by the time I succumbed to the hype and become interested (something I now capable of occasionally) I became #28 on the library wait list. For a change,when I did get to it, I discovered that it surpasses the hype. The characters are not that endearing, the secrets all things you didn't want to know. But the power of this book is shattering.

A century of impoverishment and industry collapse, pillaging and recrimination has taught them not to hope for much, but a bit of fun when the cards are down. p203

Recently I have heard MGC interviewed and in this context she reveals herself as brilliant and funny. I hope that it does not take as long for her to write her next book and that she receives the support necessary to quit her day job. I am confident that it will be as carefully written and that I will be around to properly receive it.

[Natasha · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book was hard to read. I had to make sure I felt mentally prepared every time I picked it up. It was a really heavy, brutal read.

The novel revolves around two seriously downtrodden women, but the story also weaves in the stories of dozens of characters (I don't actually know if it's dozens, but it feels like it), and they all get a chance to speak. I feel like Coles was aiming to show that no action exists in a vacuum, that every action is connected to something far greater than it. This has a really powerful effect for the main characters, making the tangled webs of generational trauma so apparent that it could be its own character. And a book with this subject matter, with these characters, becomes much more revealing and far-reaching when the reader can see characters through their chain of context.

But I think at some point you have to trust that the reader can fill in the blanks on their own. Having chapter after chapter from the point of view of a supporting character, and then that character's mom, and then their ex-boyfriend, is too much context. It almost cheapened the effect. It's a good literary device, one of my favourites normally, but when Coles doesn't use it to some purpose, it veers close to gimmicky. I was almost expecting a chapter from the mayor's wife's childhood pet goldfish. I feel that the novel could have been a lot stronger with a lot less wading (and waiting) around.

When there's so much unnecessary stuff, even the most central characters suffer. I felt for Olive and Iris deeply and their stories are important, but the fact that their stories are important is where they end. They lacked depth as individuals. The story became so padded that even their most powerful moments felt weakened. They feel like mere structural support for a novel that expands too fast and too wide.

[Nicole · Rating 4 out of 5]

I liked this a lot. I'll start with that. It did take me quite a while to really get into it though - about 80 or so pages. I found the rapidly changing POVs a bit disorienting in the beginning. Once I felt I knew the characters, it flowed much better and the changing POVs became very powerful. I kept thinking that this book felt very "literary" to me. (Apparently my definition of "literary" is when there's weird punctuation or "wow, I'm kinda confused right now" feelings! haha!) Anyway, I'd recommend this as a solid piece of Canadian literature.

[Natasha Penney · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is such a hard book for me to rate. I knew from the opening chapter that the author has a God-given gift with the written word. Her writing in this book is brutal, devastating, sharp, acerbic and gut-wrenchingly honest. Therein lies the problem for me with the rating. As previously mentioned I knew I was reading a superbly crafted book written my a masterful storyteller. But the story itself? It was brutal, searing and a pitch perfect deconstruction of the misogyny that runs rampant though her male characters, and attempts to shred her female characters in its wake. It made me uncomfortable. It left me breathless. It was an emotionally exhausting book. I had to put it down several times and wrestle with myself to pick it back up again. The characters are leading tragic, dysfunctional, damaging and depressing lives. That is the entirety of the cyclical nature of their existence and it wrung me out. It was not an enjoyable book for me. When I reached the last page I whispered a grateful prayer that the Newfoundland she accurately portrays in her book - because there is undeniable truth in her writing - was not and will never be a part of my Newfoundland.

[Sarah · Rating 2 out of 5]

The author writes at the beginning “This might hurt a little. Be brave.” I was, and I finished, but this book really did me in. Some good writing but not much plot. Detailed, really detailed, character examinations of sad, damaged people and one horrible man.

[Fraser Simons · Rating 5 out of 5]

https://medium.com/springboard-though...

“Her loving him and him being well don’t seem to get on at all… And now they would get nothing but ruination.”

I do not think it is an understatement that of all the books I have read pertaining to Canadian culture, Small Game Hunting at the Local Coward Gun Club is the most important. It is a slap in the face we all of us deserve.

“Smile. Smile for your money. Or starve.”

Within the general consciousness, there are certain understood exclusions for Canadians.
While all societies organized around patriarchy have a pervasive rape culture (and numerous issues around toxic masculinity), Canadians, in particular, do not admit there is anything nefarious about our country. Pick a pervasive cultural problem. We’re actually doing better than everyone else; I guarantee it. And we like to keep our dirty laundry indoors, thank you very much, as opposed to the other places that hang them out for all to see. Gross. Can’t they keep things in-house?

One of the problems with this is that our boys grow up in a world where they simultaneously know rape culture exists but are also removed from it. They’re in a protective bubble. This problem — actually all societal problems, really — are not inherently Canadian, and so we hold ourselves above them. That is mostly America, isn’t it? That doesn’t happen here. Or if it does, certainly not as much. We are well more along in dealing with it then they are, at least.

“She has learned to abuse herself in a misguided attempt at thwarting expectation.”

Small Game Hunting at the Local Coward Gun Club disabuses readers of this.

Billed as “Blistering Newfoundland Gothic for the 21st century,” the ways in which the majority of boys are enabled and educated by our culture to perpetually prioritize their needs while viewing women as creatures to be conquered and colonized take center stage.

Not boys, in general, specifically Canadian boys from Newfoundland. No looking away this time; sorry! Obfuscation is not an option. It just isn’t. There is not even cloud cover to take shelter from here, I’m afraid.

Jumping from past to present the actions of men — from microaggressions and manipulations to rape — to women, are examined and splayed out before everyone such that no reader can look away.

While the majority of the story is on Iris, a young waitress at a faux upscale restaurant, the narrative jumps around quite often to others in the community. First as an introduction. Then as a way of illustrating how everything ties together in terms of the actual events that take place, but also as a way of communicating the complicity of a community and the role each person plays in a toxic culture.

“Her body was built for fucking but her heart was not. It was built for that other thing that eludes her. This was perhaps the great tragedy of her person. Her external structure does not elicit the desired internal response in men.”

The writing is suffused with indignation that is equal parts scathing and insightful, at times very reminiscent of the prose of McCarthy, specifically those found in Blood Meridian. Clearly Megan Gail Coles writes how she wants to write. She alters the typical structure of the book, discarding quotations and typical punctuation, then buries herself in the minds of characters and wills it all out. There is nothing quite like this out there.

“Just joking with ya, b’y.
He said this readily in an unmistakable smirking way. But everyone knew he was never just joking. Not even a little bit joking. The claim provided him cover to make asinine remarks at everyone. He cloaked himself in a facade sense of humour cape, draped it over his own shoulders and across his face with every barb he sent into the world. If shots were not met with uncomfortable laughter, Rog advised any human hurt to get a sense of humour. Like his. This was just another coded way of saying once again that the hurt man, any hurt man, was like a woman.
Blow that whistle he did.
Our jokester felt certain being like a woman was the worst way to be and slandered them all female.”

It is as though she can walk up to a person and see or hear their innermost thoughts and transcribe them without any thoughts of comfort. It is, at times, completely terrifying how exacting she can verbalize and see the shame and confusion and doubt and pain of a person.

While the story itself is about Iris going to pick up her paycheque on Valentine's Day from the restaurant but instead gets roped into working with her boss, who she is carrying on an affair with, and his wife. When a snowstorm hits, nature brings out uncomfortable truths; and fallout ensues, of course.

“…He continued to share his trauma around like orange slices. One for you. One for you. One for me. In this way he still retained the entire piece of fruit harboured inside bodies he inhabited.”
But more than that, privilege itself is addressed; covering white men, gay men, white women, indigenous women, and more. And poverty — a major issue in the Maritimes — cleverly ties together all of these seemingly loose threads.

By the end, you will be convinced that Megan Gail Coles has your number. Not only does she convey the cultural landscape of Newfoundland, but also realizes each of these people so completely they feel unique and vibrant, but also, somehow, they are stand-ins for people you have met before, or now know.

“Stay alive long enough to buy new jeans…
That’s what the economy wanted. Not for him to thrive. Find some kind of peace. Or gather up a fistful of happiness. It was not in the market’s interest to keep him alive for the right reasons. And his human worth was sold back to him as such.”

The style of writing is something else. It adapts to each character with alternate colloquialisms, spelling errors, and inflections. Within these unique voices she just now has humanized and made you empathize with, the author begins to unfold in excruciating detail and precision, just how sociopathic our society is. The things they do are given secret captions for the reader, telegraphing why they treat each other how they do.

Actually, you know these things she’s saying already; you just never actually say them and probably try to push them from your mind altogether when you can.

“But knowing something and facing it is altogether different.”
And that’s the point, of course!

They are people who mess up and try and fail and don’t even try to hurt people sometimes — but they are also appendages of society performing their preprogrammed function.

Pulling off the monumental, this outright condemnation of our way of life manages to be surprisingly humanizing and thoughtful and caring, even as it spares absolutely no one. It is a magnum opus on trauma and harm and love, and refuses to neither scapegoat nor give permission to any character to treat each other the way they do.

“John would cry atop her womb when she attempted autonomy of thought.”

It is a profoundly good work, the truest sense of the word.

And it is exactly what Canada needs to hear right now.

Canadians for too long have patted ourselves on the back for being better than anyone else, certainly America, citing various statistics regurgitated by ad campaigns from former elections and governmental administrations. Patently false claims we use to bolster ourselves and place us apart.
The truth is Canada participates in society. Has a lot of self-examining to do, responsibility to claim. While it takes place in Newfoundland, this could be anywhere in Canada, really.

The marginalized find no shelter here. No safety. This book rips away the illusion we’ve come to prefer. A misdirection that has lasted far too long.

You should read Small Game Hunting at the Local Coward Gun Club.
You’re in it.

“Hard to say who is most or worst hurt when you treat people like nothing.
The fallout is catastrophic.”

[CarolG · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book is a 2020 Canada Reads finalist for the one book all of Canada should read, the one book to bring focus to Canada. Although the format of this book is quite a bit different from my usual, once I got into the rhythm of it I enjoyed it quite a bit. There are no quotation marks and no discernible chapter breaks, normally two of my pet peeves. I was very confused in the beginning because there seemed to be so many characters but I soon had everybody sorted in my head. I actually had to read the first 35 or so pages twice before I could grasp who was who and what was going on. I didn't find any of the characters especially likeable, except maybe Olive, but they were certainly interesting. The book was quite intense but also very engrossing. If you let your attention wander you'll find yourself re-reading sections. There were many mentions of Mary Brown's Chicken in the book which has left me with a craving for fried chicken or a Big Mary sandwich! Although there's no actual "hunting" involved, there is an anecdotal reference to animal cruelty and lots of sex and language if those things are triggers for you. I had hoped for a different ending but it is what it is. As you can tell from the reviews this book won't be for everyone but I liked it well enough that I would recommend it to a friend. Did I mention how much I love the cover?!

[Quill · Rating 5 out of 5]

Best book I’ve read all year. An all encompassing look at what it means to live in St John’s right now, and an especially powerfully examination of the rampant toxic masculinity inherent to Newfoundland. Finally, a full examination of the misery it is to live here. I didn’t expect to like this book and instead, I love it. I’m not sure it would even be comprehensible to anyone that doesn’t live in St Johns or Newfoundland. At times, the affected dialect of the narrator is grating, and I’ll admit that there are many times where sentences are completely incomprehensible, not due to the dialect, but due to the sudden appearance of metaphors and symbolism that are not clearly signalled ahead of time. I think too that it could have been edited a little more. For example, and this is a paraphrase,: “Calv is a follower of Roger because that’s what he does. Calv follows Roger. He is a follower.” We don’t need all of that. Regardless, the book’s scope is at once vast and intimate and despite the lengthy page count, I can’t envision any segment being cut. It all contributes to MGC’s grand vision of life right now.