If you think it’s all been done before, Emily Austin has news for you. Her innovative approach to storytelling and her unique perspective shines through in the title and rings out from every page of her fourth book, We Could Be Rats. The epistolary novel is framed as a series of suicide note attempts, but as we read each new draft, it becomes evident that everything is not as it seems. It’s perhaps the most perfect example of an unreliable narrator I’ve ever seen.
Austin also deserves recognition for the Author’s Note that prefaces the book. I would love to see more authors and publishers take her compassionate and thoughtful lead: This book deals with suicide, and it does so through the perspective of a person who treats their death, at first, as trivial. Suicide is never trivial. If you or someone you know is struggling, help is available.
This may not be the book for you if you are struggling with mental health or suicidal ideation, or have trauma related to this subject. But it might be. You may find it to be a healing read, like I did. If you are up to such a challenging topic, Austin manages to walk the tightrope of darkness and light with grace and seeming ease.
[Austin] tackles heavy-hitting topics in an approachable, engaging, thought-provoking way.
We Could Be Rats also tackles so much else that is relevant to this moment. The struggles of existing on the margins of society, the economy, and your family, the ripple effects of childhood trauma, the importance of chosen family, the impact of conservative politics on the 2SLGBTQI+ community, and the ravages of the opioid epidemic—especially in rural regions. But she somehow does all of this without leaving the reader feeling preached at or hit over the head. She tackles heavy-hitting topics in an approachable, engaging, and thought-provoking way.
This is not my first time being bowled over by a book by Austin. Her fiction debut, Everyone In This Room Will Someday Be Dead, a book about Gilda, a twenty-something, atheist, animal-loving lesbian, who can’t stop ruminating about death, was my favorite read of the year a few years back. The parallels between these books are clear. Both have quirky attention-grabbing titles. Both feature lesbian protagonists in their twenties who have trouble adulting and fitting into mainstream society. Both are focused on death. There is another strong similarity that I won’t highlight because it will give away a key plot point in We Could Be Rats.
But despite the overlap, these books are not carbon copies, and this book isn’t some attempt to recapture lightning in a bottle. Each book explores unique fully formed characters in singular situations. One of these books is about a fear of death, while the other is about yearning for it. One has bunnies and the other has rats. While some similar themes and characterizations have captured Austin’s imagination, she is in full command of her cast of oddballs and their journeys, and I will follow where-ever she leads.
Not to fangirl too hard, but Austin should be the most famous and successful contemporary writer in Canada—nay, the world. In this reviewer’s humble opinion, she has written a near-perfect book for all of us odd ducks, black sheep, and carnival rats. If that’s you; waddle, flock, or scurry to your closest local bookstore to buy this literary gem immediately.
Emily Austin is the author of We Could Be Rats, Everyone in This Room Will Someday Be Dead, Interesting Facts About Space, and the poetry collection Gay Girl Prayers. She was born in Ontario, Canada, and received two writing grants from the Canadian Council for the Arts. She studied English literature and library science at Western University. She currently lives in Ottawa, in the territory of the Anishinaabe Algonquin Nation.
Publisher: Simon & Schuster (January 28, 2025)
Paperback: 8″ H x 6″ W x 1″ L | 256 pp
ISBN: 9781668085516
Lindsey Harrington is a Nova Scotian writer with Newfoundland roots and a passion for exploring societal issues through a personal lens. Last year, she longlisted for the CBC Nonfiction Award and shortlisted for the Fiddlehead Creative Nonfiction Award. She has an editorial column on her childfree experience forthcoming in the Toronto Star and is currently querying her unmotherhood memoir, Free or Less. Learn more at lindseyharrington.com.
