Autumn marks the beginning of get-cozy-with-a-good-book month. It also marks the return of Noir at the Bar, an evening of debaucherous readings and stiff drinks at The Irish Heather.

This month Granville Island will be packed with ticketed events for the Vancouver Writers Festival (October 20–26) and buzzing with book lovers. But if you’re after something more casual, Noir at the Bar is hosting a one-night-only gathering in Chinatown on October 23rd — free to attend, no RSVP needed.

There’s something especially cozy and atmospheric (perhaps even illicit) and innately literary about posting up in a dark pub while listening to authors reading from their best works of crime and mystery. The fact that you can do so while nursing a pint of beer, glass of whisk(e)y, or a nice, stiff cocktail – and even while tucking into some delicious proper pub grub, if you so choose! – is also extra enticing. Speaking of the drinks: just for the occasion, The Irish Heather’s owner, Seán Heather, will be collaborating with Noir at the Bar on two themed concoctions, including the ‘Arbheg Old Fashioned’, as well as a TBD gin-based drink. (To get a better idea of what that could be, past iterations have included last year’s ‘Dublin Streetcar’, and at the Victoria 2023 event it was an Old Fashioned using Central City whisky alongside a ‘Noir-groni’ featuring black gin made with mushrooms.)

So far, there are nine confirmed authors who will be participating in this month’s Noir at the Bar event: Dietrich Kalteis (Dirty Little War), Charlie Demers (The Eh Team), Shane Joaquin Jimenez (Bondage), Sarah M. Stephen (Bodies in the Boundary), Sean Cranbury (Books on the Radio podcast), J.G. Chayko (The Old Lady in My Bones blog), Emmet Matheson, John Farrow aka Trevor Ferguson (Bright Shining As the Sun), and Craig H. Bowlsby (Requiem for a Lotus).

Although October 23rd may seem distant, if you measure the time between now and then in reading hours, it really isn’t so far away. We do, which is why we’re giving you the courtesy of letting you know about this event well in advance, and including a handful of noir-and-drink pairing suggestions from some of the participating authors, so that you can hit the books and get in the mood ASAP! (Not that there’s any required reading list; but the added context of being familiar with at least some of the aforementioned authors’ ouevres is a nice touch.) Also of note, for those looking to add to their personal libraries ahead of the winter, the good folks from Pulp Fiction will have a set up with a selection of the authors’ books available to purchase the night-of. Doors at 7pm. See you there!

From Magnus Skallagrimsson, Noir at the Bar event organizer, Vancouver and Victoria, BC Chapters: “For my own opinions on Noir and imbibing, I think whisky (or whiskey) is the essential spirit for the genre. The earthiness, malt, possibly the smokines all speak to the dirty nature of the genre. That said, with the book I am writing the character is mostly a non-drinker. But when he does imbibe it reflects the Italian-Dutch parts of his heritage. He picked up a taste for oude jenever and korenwijn visiting extended family in Zeeland. But his main standby amari and vermouth, something his nonno imparted to him.”

From Sarah M. Stephen: “This is such a good question. I have two main characters, one in present day and one in the late 19th century… This first drink, for my modern-day sleuth Riley Finch, is a sbagliato using Empress gin. Riley is not a big drinker, but as an archivist, she appreciates that Empress gin is inspired by the hotel in Victoria. There is a recipe here. My other sleuth, Detective Jack Winston, consumes the occasional beer, but at social occasions has consumed and enjoyed a whisky sour, as they were popular during the late 19th century.

“I like a dark beer, especially in the autumn, and since we will be at the Irish Heather, I will probably enjoy a Guinness (but maybe not until after I finish my reading).”

From Craig H. Bowlsby: “When Fall rolls around I look for Granville Island Lions Winter Ale. I think they only make it in the Fall, and it’s automatically a treat. For me it tastes like something you’d mull, except you’d mull it with chocolate and it’s ale. It’s also local so I feel more at home wherever I have it. As for pairing it with Noir, you might say you’re getting a combined taste of an unusual story and a favourite experience, like a Humphrey Bogart movie.”

From Shane Joaquin Jimenez: “For drink recommendations to pair with my recent book, my debut novel Bondage came out last year. For the book’s heroine Che, who escapes from prison and is on the run trying to find her long lost sister in Las Vegas, I recommend a plastic jug of contraband prison hooch, hidden behind the cell toilet and fermented with your fruit of choice stolen from the mess hall.

If you want something more serious, a lot of my writing is about my hometown of Las Vegas, which is a very gritty noir city, so I’d go with a classic Atomic cocktail (vodka, brandy or Cognac, sherry, Brut champagne, orange wedge garnish).”

From Trevor Ferguson: “I just returned from Montreal, and not coincidentally spent several nights in the bar where my musician friends play — Hurley’s Irish Pub on Crescent Street — where my next novel (written under my pen name, John Farrow) concludes its final scene. The drink of choice? Guinness.”

From Sean Cranbury: “My book selection is William Gibson’s Pattern Recognition and the cocktail is the Boulevardier.

“Not everyone’s into globalized semiotic noir, but I am — and that’s why I recommend William Gibson’s Pattern Recognition. Gibson lives in Vancouver, and while the novel never names the city, its DNA shimmers across every page. If there’s a character whose presence still haunts the groggy, aspirational minds of Mount Pleasant’s itinerant baristas, vibe-coding dilettantes, and recreational skateboarders, it’s Cayce Pollard — the original coolhunter. She’s allergic to your bad taste, paid to insult your sigils, and her aesthetic is pure precision. Gibson’s prose is slick and rain-soaked, the light always refracted, the mood just a few shades darker than caffeine.

“The Boulevardier is a Negroni that’s gone bad in every good way — swapping gin’s clean chill for bourbon’s nasty warmth, that lingering caramel note that sticks to the tongue like cigarettes and regret. The bourbon leans nostalgic, but only for a moment. It’s a quiet indulgence that doesn’t hurt anybody — richer, heavier, and sharp at the elbow. It’s the perfect mirror for Gibson’s world of jet-lagged style and emotional static.

The name means “man about town,” but Cayce’s not here for small talk. Where bourbon leans sentimental, she’s the opposite — distilled, alert, refracted. Sip it slow and feel the burn.”

From Emmet Matheson: “Aesop Mosley scanned the booths and the bar, no one met his gaze. Whoever had dropped him that anonymous message to meet here, a couple blocks over from what was left of the Chinatown office he shared with his talent agent sister and housing officer brother, either wasn’t here yet or wasn’t ready to reveal themselves. The nice thing about killing time in a bar: booze.

Aesop looked at the bottles behind the bar and considered his options.

Aesop Mosley was a non-profit detective because he was a literary failure. His first collection of poetry: The Autobiography of Boris Karloff; an embellished tale told in verse of the actor’s involvement in the 1912 cyclone that ripped apart Regina, Saskatchewan was largely ignored. What few critics took notice, dismissed it as derivative of Ondaatje’s The Collected Works of Billy the Kid. He had cashed in all his chips on that book and in the weeks that followed its negligible release he lost his dayjob as an outreach worker, his wife left him for a realtor, he hit the kind of rock bottom where taking a job that has no business existing seemed like a smart move. So he passed on the row of Writer’s Tears.

Instead, overthinking as usual, he picked something from the Isle of Skye, which his ancestors had fled, something fancier than Jameson but still basic enough that he could leave a tip and not have his card declined. Something that wouldn’t attract attention either way. Most of all, it had to be something he could pronounce after two or three.

He caught the bartender’s attention with a raised finger, “Talisker, please.””

Irish Heather Shebeen

Neighbourhood: Chinatown

248 East Georgia St.

604-688-9779

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