Dirty Bird & Upstreet Rhuby Social
I borrowed this novella from one-third of my currently defunct writing group, and it sat next to my bed for far too long. Now, after reading it, I think Dirty Bird might be responsible for any bad dream, bad luck, or bad feeling I had these past few months. It’s like a little talisman of darkness.
So many terrible things happen in just the span of the first few pages. A fire kills a neighbour as we watch, helpless, a cousin comes back from the dead, and a little boy who giggles at all the wrong moments, whose hands go where they shouldn’t, and who believes crows can see into his brain, is our narrator.
The book’s disturbing subject matter is heightened by its delivery, through the eyes of young Travis. He appears both highly capable and deeply disturbed, both intuitive and distant. He is always lurking, observing, but his action is sporadic and unpredictable: he stomps on the head of a bird; he masturbates; he leaves the scene of your death; he is both aloof and acutely aware. He overhears but doesn’t always understand, creating a visceral tension for the reader.
The varied narrative style is well chosen, because we aren’t forced to remain inside Travis’s brain the entire time. I’m not sure I could’ve handled that—though he is one of the most interesting characters I’ve ever met. Through third-person omniscient narration, we’re also intimately connected to Travis’s mother, Trina, her boyfriend, Jody, and even Travis’s cousin Miles, who appears as a ghost with dirty boots on the first page. They are all transparent (not just the ghost--actually he least of all) in that they wear their flaws on their sleeves, but they do not covet them; these characters appear so reluctantly condemned to be themselves. Knowing all of their intimate thoughts and feelings also brings a central question to light, namely: who is the real villain here? I was both afraid of and afraid for Travis, and that’s a conundrum I’m not sure I’ve encountered much in fiction before.
With a blurb on the front from Liz Worth that reads, “A neo-Canadian Gothic tale of dysfunction, hallucination, and denial,” I didn’t step into this book lightly. It also is weighed down by a shiny silver 2013 Margaret and John Savage First Book Award which, to those of us who care about such things (i.e. those who aim to publish the books that win these awards), is a big deal. I can’t explain how important it is that we recognize those writers in our midst who are telling Atlantic Canadian stories that aren’t expected; the stories that haunt you with their stark realism and dirty secrets; who keep you up at night wondering why their characters do what they do. We need more writers like Keir Lowther; someone needs to tell this region’s dark stories to the world.
Full disclosure: the first time I tried this beer was on the Island and I may have had several. And I may have enjoyed it enough to purchase a T-shirt. For this Libeery pairing I drank from a bottle and didn’t enjoy it quite as much, but after letting it warm the flavours really started to come out.
Aroma is sour-earthy, herbally, and takes me right back to the patch of rhubarb that used to grow in my back yard that I would snack on. I was the kid who nibbled on wild rhubarb, so excuse me if I’m a little underwhelmed by the sourness quotient here.
In typical witbier fashion, it has a hazy straw colour--it’s made a bit darker by the rhubarb and strawberry but not much. It has a bit of an unflattering swampy colour. With a name like Ruby Social, I expected a more vibrant red; and with rhubarb I expected a bit more tartness—a lip-puckering, canker sore–inspiring sourness—but what I got instead was a subtle, lightly fruity, berry aftertaste and a bit of a biscuit-y flavour, typical of the style.
To me, it’s sweeter than sour. I’d like to see the rhubarb sourness punched up a notch. Right now, it’s a hint in the aftertaste. I’d also like to see higher carbonation to really help pack a punch. It’s lacking that telltale crispness or citric acidity, coriander and orange peel flavour, and high carbonation that you come to expect of witbier.
This is definitely quaffable, and I enjoy witbier but maybe this one is a bit too subtle for me. I’d like to see a better balance here between sweet, summery, and sessionable, and crisp, tart, and refreshing. Still one I’d enjoy having again, and one that I think will get better over time, and as it warms up.
Pretty impressed with the Island right now. While Rhuby Social is a bit of a lightweight beer-wise, in hindsight I think it’s a good idea to balance out the darkness that is Dirty Bird with something fun and slightly fruity. I’d definitely steer clear of IPAs and Barley Wines and any beer that gives you that real warming, foggy glow -- you’re going to require full mental powers to really experience this novella.
kaledo-art
jacobvanloon
baratheonpilled
turnnoffyourmind
ellievsbear
stormborns
pixelskylines
romaincrisis