We are in the spring of 2012. PA, a sociology student at UQAM, is still trying to define what the subject of his master’s will be. Then came a strike and an unsuspected militant movement. From then on, the theories he had been mulling over every night for months come to life in the streets. Around him, tempers flare, opinions become polarized and friendships are put to the test.
There are Sophie and Véro, who swear by anarchism and direct action. Then Marianne, a convinced pacifist, who reminds us that behind the uniforms and shields hide real human beings. And there’s Simon, her heartbroken roommate who struggles to deal with the anger in the room.
Over the course of demonstrations, blockages and drunken evenings, PA is initiated into the intoxicating and heartbreaking camaraderie of the struggle and seeks, at the heart of the action, to find its way, to define and affirm its identity and its convictions, his vision of the future and that of democracy.
After Cicadasan intelligent and introspective first novel, Antonin Marquis continues his exploration of Maple Spring to dissect the conflicts and the ethical, political and philosophical dilemmas that animate a generation disillusioned but lucid in the face of their missed appointment with history.
The writer therefore plunges back into this pivotal moment to capture its key moments; those who put an end to indifference and swayed public opinion; those who created anger, fear or unease; those who have threatened the foundations of democracy and society; those that have led to the radicalization of thoughts and gestures.
Antonin Marquis sides – ideologically and fictitiously – with the demonstrators to bring to life the fervor, the hope and the dizzying emotions that animated Quebec for the space of one spring. The pen is immersive, oral and rhythmic to stick as closely as possible to its subject: that of a group of young people whose questionings, failures and frustrations share the stage as equals with the banality of a game. video, a phrase from Bourdieu or an amorous impulse.
With it, the reader is once again in the street, hears as if there were the sound of saucepans and bottles being opened, is blinded by the crimson flashes of inventive slogans and the gleams of Bengal lights, is traversed with a shiver of fear at the sight of projectiles and truncheons, feels — like a tenacious memory — the burn of tear gas.
What we mainly remember from The variety of tactics, it is his desire to highlight the contradictions and possibilities of reasoning, points of view and beliefs that drive a social movement — and the multiplicity of individuals and strategies that make it possible, but also fragile and bumpy. Antonin Marquis analyzes the past by projecting himself entirely into it, reliving it as if it were the present, not concealing, as Milan Kundera would like, the fog that veils the path: aborted ideas, excesses, losses balance and the roots against which stumble those who seek in the misty horizon the way towards a fairer world.
A reminder that today’s struggles will not take place either without breaking eggs, without welcoming the diversity of points of view.