Tim Hortons References in Literature - 2025 edition

One of my ongoing reading projects is to take note every time I come across a reference to Canada's iconic coffee shop, even though I don't drink coffee and I don't even like doughnuts all that much. (I have a hard time saying no to cake, however.) Here's a link to collections from previous years. 

Tim Hortons retains the name of the Canadian National Hockey League player who opened his first doughnut shop  in Hamilton Ontario in 1964. As far as I can tell, the Tim Hortons franchise is currently owned by Restaurant Brands International (RBI), which is a multinational fast food holding company based in Canada. 

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     Data management is pocked with pitfalls. In Arizona, a computational error once changed hundreds of deer, elk and pronghorn to beavers, ruining two years of records. One highway contractor in British Columbia, tasked with submitting carcass locations to the province's roadkill app, got in the habit of uploading his reports over coffee, rather than from the field. Biologists figured that out when the app showed a roadkill hotspot: a Tim Hortons.

Crossings: How Road Ecology Is Shaping the Future of Our Planet by Ben Goldfarb

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     If you know what to look for you can make it through the douchebag wasteland of ghosting guys blowing up the dating sites for their skin. Iris hopes it won't matter that she got no game later because actual nice guys got no game either. They are a gameless lot and therefore her very best bet. Iris is going to get herself a genuine nice guy if she gets through this day alive, promise, promise. Iris and Jo strongly concur on this last point. Iris and Jo mostly agree. So much so that Iris becomes disappointed when they don't. She is forlorn when they don't laugh at the same jokes. Other things they don't agree on include pop music, timbits and technology. 

Small Game Hunting at the Local Coward Gun Club by Megan Gail Coles

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      But part of my disbelief in chance is tied to my sense that my fate is, in some way, guided. As a result I am, at times, susceptible to those who seem to know -- or, even, pretend to know -- things about me that I don't. This has led to some complications in my life.
      It is, for instance, what had led me to the Tim's at King and Bathurst where I agreed to have coffee with Furaha.
[...]
      She spoke these words in the most reasonable tone imaginable, daintily sipping on her double-double and hiding her mouth each time she bit her plain old-fashioned. I remember there was a moment when I was struck by the thought that she was making sense. But, of course, the situation was absurd.

Winter, or a Town Near Palgrave by Andre Alexis; published by Coach House

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     The strip malls and motels of Edmonton went by in a blur. My heart was galloping with the chaos of it all. The early morning light blaring, the vehicles packed on all sides, from compacts to semi trucks, construction workers directing traffic out of lanes where the smells of fresh tar mingled with clouds of exhaust. 

     It seemed that driving the speed limit was some kind of unforgivable offence in the city. I kept my hands gripped tightly on the wheel, face forward, each time a monstrous truck veered around us, the driver's steely eyes trying to bore a hole through my window as he passed.

     So that I would not lose focus, I set Jez to counting all the red and white signs of the Tim Hortonses along the highway. Six.

Bad Land by Corinna Chong; published by Arsenal Pulp

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     The 1971-72 season draws to a close and the team fails to reach the playoffs again. To raise spirits, Punch wants to land the veteran Tim Horton, who at 43, is nearly twice as old as anyone on the French Connection. A former star from Imlach's Toronto days, Horton has been playing here and there, periodically retiring and then driving up his price. In truth, the towering defenceman doesn't need hockey. He's got a head for business. "Tim est proprietaire de plusieurs magazins de beignets," according to the back of his bubblegum card. Tim owns a chain of donut shops bearing his name. 

     Punch meets Tim Horton at a Tim Hortons over the border. People will see them there. People will talk. The papers love both of them. The articles practically write themselves.

Same Bed, Different Dreams by Ed Park: published by Random House

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   Khaleh Sima was waiting inside a nearby Tim Hortons, halfway between her house and ours. Where we'd once gathered in homes and parks or around a sofreh, now we hung around a table at a chain coffee shop. In the past, I thought it was sad to hang around coffee shops at night, where it was mostly seniors and solo middle-aged people. That teenaged judgement dissipated when it became our weekly refuge too.

     At 7 o'clock in the evening, we drove over to the parking lot with Persian music blaring in the car. Both of us immediately felt more life in our bodies, excited to see Khaleh Sima, who would inevitably make us laugh amidst our despair. 

     Khaleh Sima was the only friend my mother still held onto and the only one she could be her full, unfiltered self with. She was what Persians would call ham-dard, meaning 'one's companion in pain.' Mom's other friends had slowly disappeared. At first, there was empathy. A couple even shared that they knew of my father's infidelities, spotting him with other women, or thinking they had, or they had heard he had been calling other women in our circle. But the phone calls from these friends stopped and I wasn't sure if it was her distancing or theirs. 

     Outside the Tim Hortons, teenaged lovers leaned against car doors, canoodling, and I just hoped no one from my school would spot me. Though no one would have said much about it anyway, given that I was rarely, if ever, invited to parties.

     By the cash register, Mom and Khaleh Sima argued over who would pay this time. Each of them pulling out their debit cards like swords and jousting with their hands. The two went back and forth, swearing they wouldn't let the other person pay or promising that they'd never go out with them again, until one of them eventually gave up and let the other pay.

All the Parts We Exile by Roza Nozari, published by Penguin Random House Canada

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