Avenue Duluth, in Montreal, in a bar named after a woman and a song by Leonard Cohen. Claudia Larochelle and I wait before the arrival of representatives of the Paris Book Festival and French journalists who have just landed in Montreal. Québec édition invited us to have an aperitif in their company, an introduction intended to be “relaxed and warm”. Forty-two Quebec authors will go to Paris in the coming weeks for an edition of the festival which puts Quebec in the spotlight. The press trip aims to allow journalists to get to know our little literary planet now, and to better know those who make it. Alain Farah, Claudia and I form a sort of welcoming committee. We are the cheerleaders of Quebec literature.
— Farah is late.
— It’s better not to “choke” ourselves!
— What are we going to tell them, the French journalists?
When they arrive, we are a little intimidated and stiff in our chairs, but with the help of the wine, tongues loosen and the conversation becomes lively. The journalists come from varied backgrounds: Liberation, Le Figaro littéraire, France Culture, France InterL’Express, etc. It’s special to have to give an overview of our literature – a vast subject – the possible avenues are multiple. We branch off quite quickly towards questions of inclusive writing, epicene writing, and I feel that we are a little ahead of them in this issue, I perhaps even hear a few teeth grinding.
Journalists are victims of jet lag; there is one who sleeps almost standing up, but not Pauline Gabinari (Books Hebdo, Harper’s Bazaar France, L’claireur Fnac). Young freelancer, nice little bette, bob cut, a sparkle in her eye. She takes notes in a notebook, already seems to be planning her next paper.
Two days later, Pauline and I met again for an aperitif, but as a couple this time, and in a bistro in the Rosemont district. I wanted to take her out of the center, to take her to the outskirts in a neighborhood where many writers live. If we have time, I’ll take him for a walk in the alleys.
— Today, we met the people from La Pastèque, Mémoire d’encrier and Le Quartanier. There was the author who looks like a musician and who wrote a novel set in a restaurant.
— Stéphane Larue? The plunger.
– That’s it ! Tomorrow, we leave by bus at six in the morning to go to Quebec. We are going to visit the House of Literature.
—Did you even have time to bite into a bagel?
— No, it’s settled quickly. No downtime!
– I see it ! You wanted to talk about Quebec literature. A particular angle?
— I am preparing a text entitled “Why is it cool to read Quebec literature in five points.
If there is something that I find beautiful in recent years, it is the welcome given to emerging writers. When my first novel was published in 2002, the openness to first-time novelists and the interest in the stories they have to tell were not those found today. It was tough to break into the fray and catch an editor’s attention when you were a small newbie. I see that the voices that have emerged in recent years are not only being heard, but are establishing themselves and arousing extraordinary enthusiasm — it seems to me that this is a sign of health. I think of the trajectories of Éric Chacour, Emmanuelle Pierrot, Kevin Lambert, who have enjoyed critical and commercial success.
I find the openness shown by readers towards her and them generous and caring. It must also be said that a new generation of editors has taken its place, founded new houses or taken over from the editorial teams who passed the torch.
— I also notice, observes Pauline, the openness of Quebec readers towards First Nations writers.
— Yes, absolutely note that for your article. Michel Jean enjoys resounding success with Kukum, a novel that has been on the bookstore sales charts for several years now and which teachers have been making secondary school students read. Inkwell Memory does considerable work in this area. Thanks to the antennas of Rodney Saint-Éloi, we read the poetry of Joséphine Bacon, her crafted words which elevate us collectively and have allowed us to develop a more embodied contact with the territory. Without forgetting her heirs, Natasha Kanapé Fontaine, Naomi Fontaine, and I could name many others. The reconciliation with the first peoples which is discussed in the political sphere, often clumsily, is in literature that it takes place.
In recent years, some very beautiful stories of immigration and its after-effects have dazzled us and allowed us to move forward: Where I hideby Caroline Dawson, major and striking novel, Hotline, by Dimitri Nasrallah, and more recently A convergence of solitudes, by Anita Anand.
Quebec literature is cool because it allows readers to open up to others, to listen to their voice and to understand them. It plugs the gaps, repairs the injuries. It allows us to know ourselves better and, in doing so, brings us together, because we are human.
I feel it, Pauline will also become a cheerleader of Quebec literature.