A Glacier’s Guide to Dying is a powerful, strange, funny, and deeply moving novel that blends family drama, environmental crisis, Indigenous storytelling, and magical realism into something wholly unique.

What impressed me most was Michelle Porter’s ability to balance respect for Métis stories and ways of knowing with a compelling contemporary narrative. Readers are given glimpses of Giants, Buffalo, and the living presence of the land without having every detail explained, creating a story that feels richly layered and rewarding. It is accessible to all readers while also clearly offering deeper resonance for those who share connections to the cultures and knowledges represented.

The novel’s humour was one of its greatest strengths. Even while exploring difficult subjects such as intergenerational trauma, mental illness, abuse, climate disaster, and loss, the story remains vibrant and full of life. Robbie’s text exchanges with his siblings were particularly effective, establishing family dynamics with warmth, authenticity, and wit.

I also appreciated the novel’s structure. The shifting timelines and fragmented narrative mirror Robbie’s emotional reality, creating a sense of uncertainty that feels purposeful rather than confusing. The pacing is carefully controlled, with revelations arriving at just the right moments.

My only criticism is that the manuscript could benefit from additional copyediting. I noticed several typos and a few sentences that felt awkward or unclear. However, these issues were relatively minor and did not significantly impact my reading experience.

Overall, this is an ambitious and memorable novel about inheritance, identity, family, grief, healing, and our relationships with the land. Readers who enjoy literary fiction with strong Indigenous perspectives, unconventional storytelling, and moments of both heartbreak and humour will find much to appreciate here.

There was something so memorable about this stunning novel by Michelle Porter that’s somehow impossible to pinpoint. It’s strange and darkly funny, but beneath all of that is a deeply thoughtful exploration of grief, family, culture, spirituality, and the ways we carry loss with us. I loved how effortlessly it moves between humor and heartbreak, sometimes finding a way to be deeply sad and genuinely funny within the very same moment. It’s unusual without feeling inaccessible, and refreshingly different from the literary fiction I typically reach for. An easy 5-star read perfect for fans of unconventional literary fiction.
Thanks to NetGalley and Algonquin Books for the ARC edition of this book.