Would-be critics should read better, wrote Roman Gary in Life and Death of Emile Ajar. After several passages to certain literary emissions, force me to abound in the direction of Gary: the critics should read better. I would add that they should quite simply read the texts of the authors they invite on their set, whether on television or on the radio. In October 2021, a literary program well appreciated by the public made me happy to invite me to talk about my most recent novel, made by another, which revolves around the world of false paintings in arts. The fact that Quebecer Réal Lessard was an important figure in a network of counterfeiters added spice to the reflection.
The head researcher had programmed me precisely twenty-eight minutes (on the radio, everything is organized to the minute). Given my fragile state of health — I was during this appearance on the radio under the effects of chemotherapy — I had prepared myself for the questions that had been sent to me as if I were going to take an exam. of great importance. In fact, that was the case: this program, one of the only ones in the country dealing with literature, was a good pretext to broaden my readership, to give it an interest in a possible reading of my book. When the time for the interview came, I was told that I would come a little later than expected. Result of the races, after a musical intro, I am presented: date and place of birth, author of My Kubrick red life, that the two animators had liked very much. I saw on the clock time pass without anyone coming to the primary reason for my presence. Uplifting music, thanks, “we love you very much, Simon, take care of yourself” and it was over. On to the news bulletin.
I was speechless. The program’s researcher had not only read and gone through the novel, but also prepared strong, analytical questions, leading to stimulating reflections. However, none of these questions were asked of me during the interview. It makes you wonder if the animators had read a single line from my book…
Criticism is poor in Quebec, limiting itself to clichés or banalities, I had already read about fifteen years ago in an article on cultural criticism in our province. How to go against this opinion of Stanley Péan?
Many others besides me received a welcome similar to mine. Among friends in the community, when we talk about this disrespectful way of treating the work of local authors, I think back to the exasperated eyes, the desperate messages of colleagues who have suffered the same expeditious treatment as me, while the red carpet is rolled out to European stars. Question of making the cost of the plane ticket profitable?
Where to find a book…
I remember an interview with another journalist, this one from the third class, asking me where readers could find my book – it was then My Kubrick red life. I sighed, leaned back in my chair and looked around. There was an inviting window. Where can one find a book? I acted like I hadn’t heard his question. The interview took place, it’s funny to mention, in a library…
I still laugh about it today. Out of spite. During the same intellectual torture session, the host asked me if there was any advice I would like to give to newbie writers… Always the inviting window staring at me. “Not to accept interviews led by such mediocre people? This answer didn’t come out of my mouth, but it sometimes comes to my mind like a nausea ready to vomit its disgust. Yes, sir, the criticism is very poor, it must be admitted.
In Quebec, apart from a few rare exceptions, there are very few critics worthy of the name. I’m talking here about criticisms that give into the elaborate analysis. The lack of space is not a valid excuse in my opinion, having received comments that were sometimes short but aimed directly at the target of my literary intentions. I am thinking of Gabino Iglesias, who, in less than thirty lines in the magazine Volume 1, Brooklyn in New York has produced a fine and fair analysis of my writing project on what the Americans have titled Kubrick Red. Keeping it short and strong at the same time is therefore possible… In Quebec, elaborate reviews appear almost exclusively in magazines or literary journals, but the reviews are not available until months after the release of the work we have stopped talking about. for a long time in other media.
Since my arrival in the literary world through my novel about the film The Shining and the repercussions of my mother’s suicide in my life, it was generally during my meetings with college or university students that I came across the most relevant and rich analyses. I come out of these discussions each time galvanized, while I most often wonder why I am wasting my time with professionals who basically give the impression that they are offering us their airtime to fill content, too empty be it… I lend myself to the exercise of going to play the game of the media, but I only do it basically for the rare encounters with sensitive and human critics, and of course for the gain of readers that can bring back these enhancements of my works.
This situation is perhaps not exclusive to Quebec, it is probably the same in other countries where interest in high culture is diminishing from decade to decade. Like a skin of grief, as Balzac would say.