When I first heard that Tegan Quin, one half of the iconic duo Tegan and Sara, had championed The Cure for Drowning by Loghan Paylor on Canada Reads 2026, I wasn’t just intrigued—I was genuinely excited. What makes this particularly fascinating is the way Quin approached the book, not just as a story but as a bridge between worlds. Personally, I think this speaks volumes about the power of literature to transcend its pages and spark real, meaningful conversations.
The theme of this year’s Canada Reads was “one book to build bridges,” and Quin’s choice couldn’t have been more fitting. The Cure for Drowning is a historical fiction novel that centers on untold queer and trans stories in Canadian history. What many people don’t realize is how rare it is for such narratives to take center stage, especially in a way that feels both deeply personal and universally relatable. Quin’s advocacy for the book wasn’t just about its literary merit—it was about its ability to challenge, educate, and connect.
One thing that immediately stands out is Quin’s passion for the book’s themes. She spoke about the rollback of trans rights and the attacks on the LGBTQ+ community, framing the novel as a timely and necessary read. From my perspective, this is where literature becomes more than just entertainment; it becomes a tool for empathy and understanding. Quin’s argument that the book “opened eyes and hearts” during the debates is a testament to its impact. If you take a step back and think about it, this is exactly what we need in a divided world—stories that remind us of our shared humanity.
What this really suggests is that The Cure for Drowning isn’t just a book about the past; it’s a mirror to the present. Loghan Paylor’s debut novel follows Kit McNair, a character grappling with identity and belonging in a society that doesn’t quite understand them. The love triangle between Kit, Rebekah, and Landon is more than just a plot device—it’s a reflection of the complexities of human connection and the ways we’re often forced to choose between who we are and who the world wants us to be.
A detail that I find especially interesting is Paylor’s own connection to Quin’s music. As a closeted queer teenager, Paylor found solace in Tegan and Sara’s songs. Now, decades later, Quin is championing Paylor’s work, creating a full-circle moment that feels almost poetic. This raises a deeper question: How often do artists influence each other across generations, and what does that say about the enduring power of creativity?
The runner-up, Searching for Terry Punchout by Tyler Hellard, was a strong contender, but it ultimately couldn’t compete with the emotional and thematic depth of The Cure for Drowning. While Hellard’s novel explores themes of family and reconciliation through the lens of hockey, it lacked the same urgency and universality that Paylor’s book brought to the table. In my opinion, this highlights the importance of timing—some stories resonate more deeply because they speak directly to the moment we’re living in.
What makes The Cure for Drowning so compelling is its ability to balance escapism with education. Quin rightly pointed out that a great book should allow readers to lose themselves in the story while also challenging them to think differently. This duality is what separates good literature from great literature. Personally, I think this is why the book won—it didn’t just tell a story; it invited readers to become part of it.
Looking at the broader implications, the success of The Cure for Drowning feels like a cultural milestone. It’s a reminder that marginalized voices, when given a platform, can reshape the narrative. Paylor’s win, especially in a year focused on building bridges, feels symbolic. As Paylor noted, we’re living in a time where division seems to be the norm, but this book proves that stories can still bring us together.
If there’s one takeaway I’d like to leave you with, it’s this: literature has the power to change lives, not just by entertaining us but by challenging us to see the world through someone else’s eyes. The Cure for Drowning isn’t just a book—it’s a call to action, a reminder that empathy starts with understanding. And in a world that often feels fragmented, that’s a message worth championing.
