Bruce Toews

And some Canadian authors, too. But have you ever noticed, you can recognize a Canadian book by its plot? Old guy thinks back on life, regrets some kind of mistakes; novel flashes back to when old guy was less old, when the mistake was made; novel flashes back to old guy again, who is getting progressively drunk, but before he passes out he realizes that (a) he wasn't to blame in the first place, (b) he was to blame, but someone else as well, (c) there's nothing he can do about it, or (d) life really is as miserable as he thought it was in the beginning of the book and he might as well drink his brains out. Either that or old woman is sitting alone with her collection of paintings; flash back to when old woman was young beautiful girl who got raped and mistreated by every male in the book except the gay guy; flash forward to old woman, getting progressively drunk, defacing her paintings, but realizing that she is woman, hear her roar, and that not even the inherent evil of all things male can take that away from her.