Like Michael Tregebov's debut novel The Briss, which was a finalist for the Commonwealth First Novel Award (Canada–Caribbean Region), The Shiva is a fast–paced character–driven novel.

Failures in business and marriage tip poor Mooney into a spell in a psychiatric ward. But he has the great fortune of befriending an Indian seer, one of his pals from the casino where Mooney hangs out, who promises to put Mooney's life back together.

Dennis is no ordinary Indian seer. For one thing, he's a rez Indian, from right around Winnipeg, just like Mooney. For another, he's a stock picker, and what he sees coming, in the spring of 2008, is the sub–prime mortgage meltdown. So he puts together a consortium of himself, Mooney, and a bunch of Mooney's pals from the world of North End Winnipeg, to pool their savings in a short–selling scheme to cash in on the coming crash.

But the so–called "Eisenteeth syndicate" isn't just betting against the market. Mooney and his pals are betting against Mooney's brother Dave: crude, ignorant, maddeningly successful, whose oafish touch turns every business venture into gold. Did we mention their mother has something to say about all this?

Excerpt: Chapter 1

1

– Crap.

– Eisenteeth?

– Crap.

– I told you.

– Why didn't you remind me at home?

– I did.

Who's Eisenteeth? thought Mooney, standing in a rut of slush. It was Sammy and his wife Anna. Why are they waiting for Eisenteeth?

– We're late, said Sammy.

– We can't go in without Eisenteeth, said Anna.

– I'll just cover my mouth.

– You're not going in there like that.

– Stop mintering me.

– I'm not mintering you. I'm just saying.

Mooney tried to remember if he knew an Eisenteeth. He knew an Eisenberg, and an Eisenholt, and an Eisenberg, but no Eisenteeth.

– We're late, said Sammy.

– So we'll be a bit later. We've probably missed the ceremony.

– People will see us here.

– Everyone's inside.

– Eisenteeth's coming, said Anna.

Mooney looked around but saw no one coming. But he did see this:

Anna extracted Sammy's uppers from her purse wrapped loosely in a hanky.

– Here, hold these.

Then she drew out his Xalatan eye drops and handed them to him. Sammy stood there, his uppers in his left hand and his eye drops in his right.

– How should we start?

– With the teeth, he said.

– Aw, Christ.

Sammy inserted his uppers halfway and then his wife pushed them in with her knuckles, an operation he was incapable of completing on his own. He ran his tongue over his teeth. Then Anna took the eye drops and administered one drop to each eye. Sammy blinked rapidly.

– Stand still, said Anna.

– It hurts.

– It doesn't hurt. Are you alright.

– I'm tearing, said Sammy.

– Wipe your eyes.

– I'll be okay.

– Wipe your eyes.

– Stop mintering me. It's late.

– I'm not. I've finished mintering you.

– What's this?

– This is the postmintering.

– OK. Let's just go in already. Eisenteeth made it, said Sammy.

– You'd better pray that I live one day longer than you, that's all I know.

– Oh, Mooney, I didn't notice you, said Sammy.

– Hi, Sammy.

– What's it going to be, Mooney?

– Same-old, same-old. And you?

– Ach, he said,...