‘A good read indeed!’

Devil by the Tail 
by Caroline Lavoie

Winnipeg: Deep Hearts YA, 2024
$21.99 / 9781998055616

Reviewed by Alison Acheson

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“When the French settlers came across the ocean, they brought… the chat-cornu, a shapeshifting deceiver… Those who see the beast are cursed, for it will steal from them someone dearest to their heart.” —The Legend of Fort Castor.

Devil by the Trail opens in the midst of the Lumber Games competition, and Alexis—Alex—is competing, ably swinging an axe. In her pocket are words from her estranged mother, a letter she stumbled over earlier in the day, in which her mother speaks of the French-Canadian creature of lore, the chat-cornu, and its threat to “someone dearest.” The words echo through Alex’s mind, even though in the opening paragraphs we see that the creature has been reduced to a school mascot, nicknamed “Chatty.” 

This fantastic element of the story hovers throughout and comes to fruition in the closing pages in a most satisfying way. It elevates debut novelist Caroline Lavoie‘s tale from teen romance to coming-of-age, even bildungsroman, with the awareness that should come as one enters the adult world. 

“I hope you can forgive me someday,” is written in that back-pocket letter.

“Hell, no. I’m not forgiving anyone…” is Alex’s response. At the outset, she has an edge, an edge that was no doubt left behind by her mother. Alex isn’t going to let anyone off-hook easily.

But before the story can stretch to any forgiveness and sacrifice and choice, there are some wonderful pieces that stand out. For one, there is genuine inclusiveness within these words and pages. Notably, the story is unusual it its portrayal of familial closeness between daughter and father. He’s a young father, only nineteen years older, and often mistaken for a big brother. The warmth of the connection between the two is not sentimental, and resonates as emotionally true. I can imagine some readers in not so close a family feeling envious for the ease between the two, the camaraderie. 

We don’t see this often in stories for young people. It is, after all, a natural state that teens are breaking free from parents. The separation between mother and daughter, as we see in the beginning of the story, is bitter and sad. But the stuff between father and daughter almost makes up for that loss, and sets up the everyday stuff of love and being human, which in turn sets a certain tone for other possibilities.

Another piece of wonder in this story is the non-issue of a young person’s sexuality. Alex is attracted to both Amka, a young woman new to the high school, and to her friend of some time, Caden. If the choice in being attracted to these two people at once is complicated, it’s not made so by hormones or over-examination; it’s a tough choice because Alex is learning about the nature of love itself, and learning to discern—note the word—to truly make sense of who-is-right-for-me, and me-for-them. 

It’s human stuff, and love stuff, and the story is not a simple read in this sense; this story is about maturing and evolving humans, and life itself requires patience and might mean pain, yes. 

There are worthwhile questions here, about interpreting our feelings, acting on them, and how do we see the outer and inner beauty—realness—of someone, and even “can those who are attracted to each other be friends?” And more. It’s interesting to see that another reviewer mentions the word “mean” when describing Alex, which is surprising; I see her as navigating her emotions, and struggling with being loyal, and a friend, even as she finds herself falling in love. 

It’s real. When we give our hearts to another, when we try to step back and see and yet step in, and allow ourselves to be vulnerable, too, it’s just tough stuff. I’m not going to tell you who Alex “chooses” in the end, but the choice has nothing to do with the “what” of a loved one, nothing to do with the labels. It’s the deep realization of love, of friendship, of her needs and others’ needs. It’s all the stuff of growing into being a healthy adult. In this story, there aren’t the usual labels. It’s about not taking anyone for granted, about commitment to others, and about being human. That’s it. And that’s more than enough. It’s refreshing stuff.

Yet another piece of wonder: the setting of a very small town, population under a thousand. In other stories, we’d see the character trying to escape such a place; we’d see it as suffocating. But in Devil by the Trail, being close to others, knowing others, is a positive. Again, Alex’s words have a sharpness: “I’ve got nothing against city people, but there’s more to life than hanging out at the mall!” But under those words lies her values; she has a way of pushing through to accepting, in spite of her own initial thoughts.

There’s a realness to Alex as she grapples with being a good friend in her small town. She’s quick to admit to being a “sore loser”—she says she famous for it—and at one point this characteristic takes on significance. 

A northern British Columbia writer on the land of the Lheidli T’enneh First Nation, Lavoie handles the humanity of her characters with a sense of honour; they feel to be so fully-developed that they’re letting her know where they should be on the page. This is their story. There’s no manipulating for author-convenience here.

Instead, there’s a sense of turning all gently on its head, seeing anew, discerning without judgement, and sounding in the depths of one’s guts for what is real and meaningful. All the while, writing evocatively with gutsy language and pacing that moves along. A good read indeed!

In the end, there’s the realization of a central theme of acceptance and forgiveness; it’s a quiet theme, and I appreciated that about the whole. The fantastical element worked to this end, and resonated for days afterward. Sometimes it really does take the supernatural to bring about the seemingly impossible, even the healing.

Alison Acheson is the author of almost a dozen books for all ages, with the most recent being a memoir of caregiving: Dance Me to the End: Ten Months and Ten Days with ALS (TouchWood, 2019). She writes a newsletter on Substack, The Unschool for Writers, and lives on the East Side of Vancouver. [Editor’s note: Alison Acheson has also reviewed books by Janice Lynn Mather, Li Charmaine Anne, Linda Demeulemeester, Hanako Masutani, Julie Lawson, George M. Johnson, Janice Lynn Mather, Jacqueline Firkins, Barbara Nickel, and Caroline Adderson for BCR; and Dance Me to the End: Ten Months and Ten Days with ALS was reviewed by Lee Reid.]

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The British Columbia Review

Interim Editors, 2023-25: Trevor Marc Hughes (non-fiction), Brett Josef Grubisic (fiction and poetry)
Publisher: Richard Mackie

Formerly The Ormsby Review, The British Columbia Review is an online book review and journal service for BC writers and readers. The Advisory Board now consists of Jean Barman, Wade Davis, Robin Fisher, Barry Gough, Hugh Johnston, Kathy Mezei, Patricia Roy, Maria Tippett, and Graeme Wynn. Provincial Government Patron (since September 2018): Creative BC. Honorary Patron: Yosef Wosk. Scholarly Patron: SFU Graduate Liberal Studies. The British Columbia Review was founded in 2016 by Richard Mackie and Alan Twigg.

“Only connect.” – E.M. Forster