You’ve Got Another Drink Coming

Fringe ArtsLizy Mostowski — Published January 25, 2011

Montreal has a reputation for being the home of drunken writers, and a place where literary events seem to perpetually cohabitate with the local bars. The portrait of the author as an alcoholic is a cliché that some writers seem to relish upholding, but is there any validity to it?

Lizy Mostowski talked to poet, editor, sportswriter and Concordia creative writing professor David McGimpsey about the Montreal literary bar scene and its myths.

LM: What is the significance of the bar scene in your writing life? Do you feel it is important to be a part of the writer’s bar scene as a Montreal poet?

DG: If it weren’t for bars, where would writers go to complain so much you’d think they worked in an onion-slicing factory? I don’t know if there is a literary bar “scene” (“literary bar” certainly sounds less tempting as a bar come-on than, say “25 cent chicken wings during the game”) but there are bars where some writers hang out.

The actual life of a writer is away from the bar and that life is largely solitary and boring (tapping away, reading) so, for a writer, a bar can be a great place of release from that routine.

It is probably the same in most professions, and I’m sure the bar scene among card sharks or off-duty strippers is far more exciting. But, there is an implied romance between writing and drinking and this romance is even more compelling if you can call yourself a sportswriter.

Do you think that literary figures like Richler and Cohen glamourize the idea of the writer’s bar scene? Where did they like to drink—and have those places gained a reputation as a result?

I don’t think Leonard Cohen ever hung out in bars and Mordecai Richler’s stand at downtown Montreal bars (Woody’s, Winnie’s, Ziggy’s, Grumpy’s, etc.) definitely stood against cutting a literary “scene.”

Richler, from what I understand, generally hung out with politicians and journalists and generally eschewed the company of other novelists. Creative writing students did not generally stalk Richler either as they had largely set up their bars away from the downtown core’s older, less-Weezer-loving core.

I think, in some way, the literary bar scene of downtown Montreal simply means “Mordecai Richler once drank here.”
As a poet who was born and raised in Montreal, where have you personally noticed the scene drifting around the city? Have you noticed a trend in places writers like to drink? What sort of venue attracts the writer crowd?

I tend to think a literary “scene” is fairly mythic anyway and what you actually have are a bunch of floating klatches which are put together in the normal way all clubhouses are built. I prefer classic American bars (cold bottled beer, ballgame on TV with the sound on) but such bars are rare in Montreal so, here, I actually find the bars less conducive to writerly pursuits.

Lots of things have changed in Montreal since St. Laurent was rezoned and the classic “old man taverns” of Quebec were replaced with dance clubs and brew pubs. They’re great places, for sure, but not really the places where I would go to talk shop.

“There is something innately hilarious and humanizing when people who are known for their intelligence are suddenly all hopped up on bad-decision-juice”

-David McGimpsey

I think I’ve had those conversations while some tune is blasting out and you’re screaming, “Are you in your second draft!?” “Yes, I would like a draft!”

Do you think that being a part of the scene can be beneficial to a writer’s career?

Being part of a scene can be beneficial to one’s normal aspirations to fit into an elite gathering. It has absolutely no bearing on a writer’s success. Just remember, a lot of great writers wouldn’t be caught dead drinking in the hole you waste your money and time at.

This article originally appeared in Volume 31, Issue 20, published January 25, 2011.