This incredibly sad, incredibly funny debut novel by my pal Craig Francis Power won all the Newfoundland prizes this year, and is making waves across the country with its indie publishing house Pedlar Press. Craig is an insane visual artist and a curator, and a bloody masterful writer too. Blood Relatives feels dark and smoky and damp and cold and slightly drunk, just like my few days on the Battery in St. John’s. My favourite chapter so far is called “The Asshole of Death.” That is when things really get sad and drunk and smoky and dark. Buy this for your down-on-his-luck drinking buddy, but keep your eye on him while he reads. This brilliant book is not afraid to venture to a few low-down places.