Guernica Editions

An artist engagé, Émond’s indignation is felt on every page.

I will be amazed if it takes you more than two sittings to get through Bernard Émond’s 8:17 pm, rue Darling in John Gilmore’s masterful translation. There’s something so assured and natural about the voice (which has more than a touch of the Raymond Chandlers about it) that you’ll be hooked from the first sentence (“My name is Gérard and I’m an alcoholic.”) As so often with Chandler, it’s difficult to watch events unfold without adding our own soundtrack of beating rain and atmospheric jazz. The characters have runny noses. They’re a little worn out, a little rough around the edges. None more so than our narrator. There are alcoholics, dirty dishes to be done, three ex-wives, and gallons of maudite booze … It doesn’t take much of a leap to picture Gérard narrating events off screen with a rasp to his voice and a smoker’s cough. It’s droll. It’s French-infused Montréal noir. Do yourself a favour: save it for a rainy day and savour every word.