It happens that we forget the reasons for which we know him, so much he is in all the fights. Social worker by training, David Goudreault writes, performs, sings and slams, determined to promote emancipatory words. The duty met the author, luminous in the shadow of the imposing BAnQ, on the occasion of the publication of his most recent collection of poetry, Vivid oblivion.
Above all: otherness
Close by, Dany Laferrière holds the pose of his monument, also listening to the generous words of the poet who, once again, takes advantage of the platform to invite us to voices other than his own. Before talking about his project, David Goudreault wants to let us know about these projects in which he certainly played the role of instigator, but where he was above all a “smuggler”.
He evokes Michaël, 12 years old and dyslexic, whom he met during one of his many tours in schools in Quebec. “He was so off-putting to poetry. When we took out the sheet to write the poem, he tore it up in front of me. “But the speaker managed to get the worms out of his nose, to the point where the youngster, “who hated French, now asks his teacher to go write poetry during recess”. Michaël’s poetry has even made its way into the pages of Vivid oblivion.
It also tells the story of this prisoner, met during the filming Of the world, of words. “He got back to me when he got out of prison, telling me he really liked the writing experience. I invited him to Montreal-North, to a drop-in centre. He was acclaimed, young people identified with his journey. Citing these examples, the author insists on the transformative power of words. “These are people used to being devalued, through their crimes and their abuses, but there, to speak with a thoughtful text and to be recognized for their effort and their experience, that opens another door. »
Finally, he comes back – he will come back to it often, certainly overwhelmed by this experience – on his accompaniment of Geneviève Rioux, who has just published the percussive Survivals, also at Mémoire d’encrier. “Working with Geneviève, who was looking for alternative justice, made me want to dive into it, to confront myself, the violence I suffered, the violence I committed too, and that gave this very intimate collection, guided by the rudder of Hemingway: “What is needed is a true sentence”. I wanted to tackle head-on my relationship to violence and what prevents me from sinking. »
Oblivion, but above all, peace
The collection addresses “timeless and fundamental themes: violence, loss, mourning, love, what condemns and what saves”. From then on, from sharing the brilliant strokes of others, the writer goes into confidence. “In the collection, I name all kinds of violence: the volleys that I ate, those that I gave, sexual abuse of which I was the victim as a child, words that destroyed me. »
Contemplating the path traveled during the writing of the collection, he draws a certain deliverance from it. “This collection, in a way, has become a protective factor against a relapse. I reflected on drinking, remembered where I came from, and it allowed me to take a greater distance with my next drink. » Pausing, as if contemplating the dizziness of this glimpsed fall, he added, relieved: « Before writing that, I would say that I was perhaps closer to a relapse than I thought. »
Sharing his experience is complemented by a few tales of tragic existences, since “no one remains undefeated / even the sun goes down”. But, he writes again, “the poem is a relentless gaze, ready to find beauty everywhere, even in violence and mourning”. And so he walks, inviting us to consider this life where anger, violence and mourning coexist: “Being angry is not violence. The nuance is important. Even if I speak of violence and name a present anger, I am not acting violence. »
This reflection comes at the right time. In the wake of the #MeToo movement, these rising voices, these denounced attacks and the frustration of a system that fails to do justice, the collection takes note of this violence and proposes to participate in a world called to change.
David Goudreault, who had taken a first step towards this necessary transformation with his Letter to the little guys, reiterates here an important invitation. “We have to talk about violence and recognize it. We cannot go from point A to point Z without respecting the process and without acknowledging the violence. I wanted to reflect aloud on my own relationship to violence, in the desire not only to manage my own desire for violence and justice, but also, in a broader way, to start this dialogue. »
In the meantime, David Goudreault is also impatient with a justice system that seems to carry its name badly: “Justice looks elsewhere / You can walk through a museum with your eyes closed / Life too. “Again, he cites Geneviève Rioux as an example:” It is exceptional that she has the talent to make herself heard, to take care of herself, to be resilient, despite such violent aggression. You can’t expect all victims to find their way as effectively as she does. Right now, there are plenty of victims who have been waiting for years to plead their case because there are no judges or lawyers available. »
Fortunately, the poet seems determined to take the happy exit from each situation: “By dint of losing everything / I will travel / Léger. Without denial, with the power of words, he faces life, what it has in its stomach and in its fist. “As long as there is life, there will be suffering. There will be violence. Life is a balance of power. But we can learn to favor beauty, to choose happiness. And if we can do that on a large scale, we’ll have something called humanity. Humanism. »