The Butcher Shop Girl immediately grabs your attention, opening in Santa Cruz, Bolivia, a setting that hints at escape and transformation. While the initial scene might suggest a tale solely focused on international intrigue or the Exotic Dancer Shop scene, author Carmen Kissel-Verrier delivers a much richer narrative. This memoir dives into the life of a small-town Canadian woman charting her own course, defying expectations at every turn.
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](The Butcher Shop Girl book cover featuring Carmen Kissel-Verrier, showcasing themes of memoir, resilience, and exotic dancer shop experiences.)
My interest in The Butcher Shop Girl was initially sparked by its title, reminiscent of Julie Powell’s Julie & Julia and her lesser-known memoir Cleaving: A Story of Marriage, Meat and Obsession, which explores the author’s time working in a butcher shop. However, Kissel-Verrier’s story of a woman navigating the world of meat and, unexpectedly, the exotic dancer shop, proves to be even more compelling and uniquely told. The subtitle, “A Memoir for Misfits & Mavericks,” perfectly encapsulates the spirit of this book.
Thanks to an Advanced Review Copy from Reedsy Discovery, I had the opportunity to delve into Kissel-Verrier’s world. Her journey begins on a farm, where she follows her mother into the demanding environment of a slaughterhouse. Initially, she finds pride in this work, a connection to her family and her rural upbringing. This pride, however, is challenged when a school field trip exposes her to the starkly different perceptions of her peers:
“The meat cutters, who had become like family to me by that time, were working that day, slicing a side of beef. All the kids winced at the high-pitched sound of the saw cutting through bone and turned away from the sight of something that had become such a huge part of who I was. Their abhorrence to see animal flesh crushed me. I showed them what I did after school, and what was a big part of my life, only to be met with jeers and sneers. And once I showed them, they never let it go. I was known from then on as the dirty butcher shop girl.”
This pivotal moment, recounted with raw honesty, gives the memoir its title and sets the stage for a story about overcoming judgment and societal expectations. The Butcher Shop Girl is aptly described as “a compelling memoir of resilience and persistence that captures the vivacious spirit of a small-town girl determined to succeed by any means necessary.” While “any means necessary” might be a slight exaggeration, the memoir certainly charts Kissel-Verrier’s fascinating and unconventional path from farm life to the demanding oil fields of Canada, and ultimately, into the dazzling and complex world of exotic dance.
Her self-description as possessing “ballsiness, my kind of tomboyish-ness in a really pretty package. … I was unexpected” resonates throughout the narrative. The memoir itself mirrors this unexpectedness, blending rural Canadian life with the grit of the oil industry and the allure of the exotic dancer shop. As someone with Minnesotan roots, I particularly connected with her vivid portrayals of remote Canada. She paints a picture of “bush parties,” the bone-chilling cold of -30 to -40 degrees Celsius winters, the practicality of Wrangler jeans, and the true meaning behind “making hay while the sun shines.” Details like a biker bar named “Northpole” ground the narrative in a tangible sense of place, making the environment as much a character as Kissel-Verrier herself.
The narrative takes a turn as Kissel-Verrier identifies the oil industry as a path to greater financial independence. She expertly guides the reader through the intricacies of SAGD thermal oil harvest operations and cold flow oil, making these potentially obscure professions accessible and engaging. Then, in another surprising shift, she pivots towards the exotic dancer shop industry, recognizing its potential for even greater financial reward, just as the industry itself faces disruption from online pornography. Her concise history of this entertainment form is both insightful and poignant: “It started out by showing a tiny bit of ankle in the mid 1880s and was collapsing in a cesspool of dissolved fantasy by the year 2000.”
The seemingly disparate worlds of meat cutting and exotic dancing converge in Kissel-Verrier’s reflections on the absence of modesty in both environments: “At the farm or when I was slicing meat in the butcher shop, there was no modesty. It was just biology. It was just physiology… So taking my clothes off and getting the money felt oddly similar.” Far from portraying herself as a victim, she astutely observes the agency and power dynamics within the exotic dancer shop setting, particularly for dancers who understand the industry and their clientele. Her upbeat description of a strip club dressing room, comparing it to “backstage at a theater. It may have been a little sleazier and a little sketchier, but it felt the same and featured rum!” captures her resilient and pragmatic spirit.
Kissel-Verrier’s writing is laced with vivid imagery, such as describing hair as “so bleached it looked crispy enough to crumble in a strong breeze,” making her a truly compelling storyteller. Beyond the engaging prose, the physical book itself is well-crafted, with tight editing and each chapter thoughtfully prefaced by relevant quotes from sources ranging from Jane Austen to George Washington.
The Butcher Shop Girl is a prime example of why memoir holds such appeal. It offers readers a unique lens through which to view the world, guided by Kissel-Verrier’s extraordinary experiences and insightful perspective. This book is a journey through unexpected landscapes, both literal and figurative, making it a highly recommended read for those seeking a memoir that defies convention and celebrates the resilience of the human spirit, even in the most unconventional of “shops.”
