A priori, as this funny protagonist “neo-Darwinian atheist Jew” points out, there is something formal, even pompous, in declaring that one is writing one’s memoirs. But Mayron Schwartz took part in the exercise with charming naivety. And if he does not appear as a great historical figure who left his mark on his era, it is not so much that he lacks greatness; especially if we talk about greatness of soul. Collecting and reviving, over the course of a wild score, memories sometimes tinged with details, sometimes anecdotes from everyday life, systematically involving those close to him, he innocently delivers a vision of the world combining simplicity and humanity.
“Basically, this character is involved in the great existential questions, in philosophy, but almost in spite of himself, because he is not a philosopher in himself. He observes the world, people, a lot, and notices a certain number of little things there, including quite banal ones, especially those of the nature that surrounds him: the song of a bird, a landscape…” comments Jean-François Beauchemin, from its haven of peace nestled in the Laurentians.
Lulled by nature, Mayron Schwartz also draws on human nature, appearing as a philanthropist, very curious about those around him. But don’t think that he is being angelic, because no one escapes the tragedies of life; the shadow of suicide or that of the Nazi extermination camps, from which his family members were rescued, never looms far.
The others are us
By browsing the pages of Memoirs of Mayron Schwartzthe almost ironic flavor of the title emerges little by little, until we realize that the spotlight is not so much on the main person concerned as on his loved ones, in particular this picturesque family and these no less surprising friends, all portrayed with bright colors. Moreover, Mayron confesses: “I’m worthless without others, not even the price of a squash at the village market garden fair. »
A snub from Jean-François Beauchemin to our contemporary era oozing egocentrism? Quite. “This book is a bit of an act of resistance. I am becoming allergic to everything that has to do with vanity, inflated egos, this self-promotion, exacerbated by social networks,” explains the author, who hopes to counter this trend, and also concedes never having put up with the media excitement around him.
PHOTO HUGO-SÉBASTIEN AUBERT, THE PRESS
Jean-François Beauchemin, in his haven of peace nestled in the Laurentians
Yes, the main character observes himself living and thinking. But we see throughout that it is others who form it. I wanted to show that deep down, no matter how much we put ourselves in the spotlight, we are never alone, and others ensure that we become secondary.
Jean-François Beauchemin
The reader should not expect to follow a linear and relentless chronology. Mayron Schwartz invokes his memories pell-mell, as they come to his mind, moving from cock to donkey or the events of the day before to those of the distant past. “We can clearly see that it is a teeming spirit, which wanders from one object to another, from one flower to another, like a bee, and which marvels at everything. Hence this somewhat disheveled thought and book,” says the writer. However, the latter invites us to consider the text as a whole so that everyone can appreciate, implicitly, a certain structure in the exposition of this meditative story.
No one is a prophet in his country
The character of Mayron Schwartz is not the only one to arouse astonishment. Its author can also deliver some eyebrow-raising facts. Particularly regarding its reputation beyond the borders of Quebec, which has never wavered for more than 25 years. This is evidenced by his numerous selections or awards collected, notably in France, from 1999 to today, the France-Québec prize (in 2005 for The day of the crows) at the Folio Télérama booksellers’ prize in 2024 won by The Wren. Even more surprising: in recent years, he has had more literary success with the European French-speaking world than in La Belle Province!
Jean-François Beauchemin readily admits: this breakthrough remains a mystery to be solved. “It’s hard for me to explain. This surprises me and leads me to ask myself questions. I have the impression of having a more European sensibility than a Quebecois one. The French, the Belgians, the Swiss react much more strongly to my little books. For what ? I don’t know. But I note that in all my books, or almost, there is the evocation of wide open spaces. Europeans seem fascinated by this geography of territories in immensity. “That’s perhaps part of the explanation,” he supposes, without ignoring the good reception of his works in Quebec.
Let us point out that it is served by a classic style of writing, which does not prevent it from slipping in a few national references on occasion. An artistic choice justified by the subtle, refined and poetic genre that he wishes to transmit to his readership. “I have always been a little reluctant to use the Quebec language in writing. It lends itself better, I find, to conversations. Be careful, I’m not saying that we can’t do very beautiful things with it; Michel Tremblay is a wonderful example. But I think it lends itself less to my literary purpose, I prefer a slightly more classic language, which allows for more nuances and depth. »
Memoirs of Mayron Schwartz
Quebec America
528 pages