In the Ottawa Valley

If you want to understand the real Canada, observes a character in Jim McEwen’s invigorating debut novel, a good place to start is Wing-nite Wednesday in any small town, including the eponymous Fearnoch, a once thriving, now collapsing farming community in the Ottawa Valley. There — at the local pub, some dank hotel bar, the smelly arena locker room, or the convenience store where you can still rent DVDs — you’ll encounter this real Canada, where everyone says “G’day” and you never have to look for a parking spot. A Canada of Labatt 50, of beer league hockey and gas station subs, of boot-cut jeans and hunting gear, of rusting hay rakes and decaying barns. A Canada gradually sinking under the weight of its own progress.

This Canada, the one of Jim McEwen’s Fearnoch, is both encompassing and particular. It is a place but also a state of mind — one that the author portrays with astonishing vividness and with an affection for his characters, warts and all...