LEAVING LISA

The lives of four Canadians intersect at a late-night diner in McMullen’s novel.

Like any good diner, GoHo’s is a gathering place for a certain type of lost soul, the kind of joint where a divorced middle-aged man like Guy can mull over just where his life went wrong over a plate of meatloaf and french fries. “I wasn’t sure if I was melancholy, self-absorbed, dazed, or just generally messed up,” narrates Guy (whose real name is Sean; Guy is his GoHo-specific pseudonym). “I was trying to walk in a straight line toward a new normal, but I couldn’t shake the love I had for my old normal.” Ruling over GoHo’s is the impatient, sarcastic head waitress, Mo, a single mother who resents the rough hand life has dealt her and could do with some male companionship. She competes for attention with local celebrity (and diner regular) Lisa, a musician and the host of a Fashion Channel show, and her boyfriend, former Canadian Football League all-star Al “Smackin” Mackin. (Mackin “resembled Thor,” quips Guy, “and was a god on the field who brought the thunder.”) It appears Lisa and Mackin may be on the outs, and Guy keeps hanging out at GoHo’s in part to see if he can swoop in and steal the affections of the magnetic former beauty queen. As each of the four gets their chance to tell their story—and as those stories begin to intersect—GoHo’s evolves from a spot for meatloaf and people-watching to a crucible of second chances and reinventions. McMullen has fun with his alternating narrators, each of whom has a distinctive cant, especially the jocular Mo, who describes herself as “a certain lovely, loquacious, laugh-inducing waitress—me, your scintillating, wise-cracking servant goddess, the one and only, her Mo-Ness!” The voices take precedence over the plot, which unfolds at a leisurely pace; as in many a genuine diner, the experience is mostly about the hang.

A funny, life-affirming novel about taking back control of one’s life.