Jacques Godbout: Salut Galarneau ! | Hail Galarneau! (1967)

Québécois writer Jacques Godbout's third novel is Salut Galarneau ! (1967), which anchors the writing more firmly to Québec province than his two previous ones: L'Acquarium (1962) is set in a nameless country and Le Couteau sur la table (1965) in both French- and English-speaking Canada. Salut Galarneau ! is all the more closer to home and largely set in the Montreal area. Here, the narrator François Galarneau has a mobile stall (called Au roi du hot dog) from which he sells hot dogs and chips, although much of the time he spends contemplating, in particular contemplating the book he's writing, which is really the book we're reading here, and which his brother Jacques and his girlfriend Marise have urged him to write.

The chapters are not given titles in numbers or words but capital letters, which added together slightly cryptically spell out (twice) the name of François's 'restaurant': 'AUROIDUHOTDOGAUROIDUHOTDOGAU'. Just to give an idea of the content of the novel, the second R chapter begins, and I translate:

'There's an accident near the bridge.'

'That's three hot dogs?' [Last two words in English.]

'Yes, all dressed.' [Last two words in English.]

'There are often minor collisions on Friday evenings.'

'Do you know where I can buy a cat?'

'The island's full of them, you've just got to ask around.'

'I'd like a really nice one, a Siamese.'

'Sorry, I don't know.'

'OK, bye then.'

'Good evening.'

One obvious point to make here is that weirdness is as common in François Galarneau's world as cats are on the island, but also of course the bastard nature of the language in Québécois life. It's French language (and by extension the life of Francophone people) on an American continent, in a country which is largely English-speaking, which is under examination here. François and his fellow people from Québec are bombarded, largely from TV advertising, by products of American society: Americans have colonised the consciousness of the French speakers (pace Wim Wenders). And for people such as François, this is an existential problem.

It's not just because his wife (and to a certain extent her family) married him under false pretenses, not just that Marise is now transferring her favors to Jacques, that he decides to have a wall built around his home from which he doesn't want to escape: he wants to escape from physical and existential hegemony by another people.

But he's not really going mad, and there's a positive way out of this. Writing, of course, is an extremely powerful weapon, and you can dictate your own terms.

Anne Hébert in the 5th arrondissement, Paris

'ICI VÉCUT

DE 1980 À 1997

ANNE HÉBERT

POÉTESSE ET ROMANCIÈRE

NÉE AU QUÉBEC'

Anne Hébert (1916–2000) also died in the Canadian province in which she was born. She moved to Paris after the death of her mother in 1965. Hébert lived at 24 rue Pontoise, close to the Seine and close to the eastern end of boulevard Saint-Germain, from 1980. In 1998 she moved back to Québec after thirty-two years in France.

 

Link to my other Anne Hébert posts:

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
Anne Hébert in Québec city
Anne Hébert: Les Fous de Bassan

Alice Parizeau: Côte-des-Neiges (1983)

Alice Parizeau (1930–90) was a novelist, journalist and criminologist. The title of this book – Côte-des-Neiges – refers to an area in Montréal, the town in which much of the action in this book takes place. Parizeau's husband was the economist and politician Dr Jacques Parizeau, who died on 1 June this year.

 

Côte-des-Neiges begins with one of the two central characters – Madeleine, who is called Mado by almost everyone – as a twelve-year-old at the cinema with her friend Catherine, one of the sourdes-muettes (the deaf and dumb girls) Mado assists in a nearby convent. Coincidentally, I visited Notre-Dame-des-Neiges cemetery in Côte-des-Neiges last year, and took the photos below of a plot of deaf and dumb girls' graves. The expression 'SOURDES-MUETTES' is at the base of the cross in the centre, and I include an example of one of the gravestones, of Anna Sauvageau. Each stone bears the letters 'S.M.' for sourde-muette. Anna died in 1939, which is also coincidentally one of the years in which this novel is set. Alice Parizeau – who was buried in the adjacent cemetery of Mont-Royal – must have been aware of the existence of the plot.

 

 

 

Côte-des-Neiges is something of a sprawling epic covering about twenty years in the lives of two people: Mado and Thomas. Mado is a foundling whose unknown mother left her with one of the sisters. She was breaking rules by taking Catherine to the cinema, but the girls' actions are particularly visible because the place has to be evacuated due to a fire, and Mado is expelled from the convent and has to work for a pittance as a maid to the Pouliot family, in which the husband is a financially very careful (OK, mean) banker.

Thomas is the young boy who shepherds Mado and Catherine out of the cinema to safety, falling for her charms immediately and planning to make her his girl. But this will take some time, and Thomas's job as a telegram delivery boy obviously doesn't have great prospects. And then the Depression comes and his father Adam, a baker, is running into money problems because his customers are asking for credit all the time and he's a soft touch. Thomas travels across Canada, first working as a wood cutter and then making real money by selling bootleg hootch in the USA, then returns home to Montréal with enough money to keep his father's business afloat.

Thomas goes on to run a successful biscuit factory, but Côte-des-Neiges details much more: it is a study of jealousy and independence set against not only the Depression but the Spanish Civil War and the Second World War. The jealousy largely comes from Thomas's brother Joseph, who has been in love with Mado for years but who comes back from the Spanish Civil War with one arm less and a feeling of defeat.

Independence is written throughout the novel, although it's Mado's independence that is most noticeable, and in some respects Côte-des-Neiges is a strong feminist tale with Mado taking over the running of the factory during Thomas's unforeseen detention in Europe, which ruffles a few feathers and angers the frustrated Joseph, who sees her as turning into a man.

This is in many ways a riveting novel although a little old-fashioned in its ambitions, which tend to lean back to the realism of the nineteenth century novel. But that's not the main criticism I have of it: throughout, Mado and Thomas show a lack of interest in 'politics', viewing any ideology as harmful: they just want to make money and get rich, as if capitalism weren't a political ideology! The narrator seems to confuse Stalinism with communism, and the final chapter seems to me to lack any semblance of credibility: Thomas can clearly see that Canada – laughably, as he sees it – is now embracing a kind of McCarthy witch hunt mentality, although he has denied that he's a capitalist, and has plans to give his workers more money, provide them with decent and cheap housing, etc. I wasn't convinced: what would Mado say?

François Gravel: Benito (1987)

I was finding this book particularly interesting, especially up to the first half. Benito Brouillard (the thirteenth – or fourteenth if you include a miscarriage – child of the family), as his surname name suggests, is something of a foggy character. As a child of such a large family even his parents don't recognise him, although he does his best to hide himself away in any case.

Benito has something of the Forrest Gump in him, an innocent in a world he doesn't understand, or maybe understands too well. He decides to skip school as it's of no help or interest to him, and it's particularly maths that he's bad at: he has an almost total block on numbers. In his truant wanderings he's welcomed by the kindly Adrienne, the local brothel keeper who sees his very young eyes are aimed at her prostitute Nancy, and imagines him as a future customer.

This is not to be, though, as Benito has no interest in sex. He sees his future as designing plaques for trophies, walking in his father's shoes, although his father takes to the bottle big time and dies, leaving Benito with debts that his brothers and his mother are only too willing to have the clueless young man sign as his own. So they leave as soon as the deed is done, with Benito rattling around a huge house, with many demanding letters that he can't understand so ignores.

But Benito has a gift: he can listen. And many people come to tell him their problems. He listens, but doesn't advise, although he's seen by many people as being extremely wise. (There's an obvious criticism of psychiatrists being paid for nothing here.) And his clients pay him with a great deal of food and alcohol (although he doesn't drink), and even pay him money (which he doesn't understand the meaning of). He gives much of the food and alcohol away.

And then Nancy needs somewhere to live and she moves into the Brouillard home on a strictly platonic basis with her daughter Éléonore, whom she's protecting from the life that Nancy's had as a prostitute, and even tells her daughter that all men are out for only one thing and must be avoided, with the single exception of course of the sexless Benito. And Nancy doesn't take financial advantage of this (somewhat autistic) kindly man, becomes his unpaid secretary, regulates his appointments now that he's a kind of professional advisor, and looks after the money for him that he can't look after himself.

Then along comes the sexually innocent middle-class Raphaël who's fallen in love with the lovely innocent Éléonore who now works in a chocolate factory, and initially there's embarrassment all round, but the story still seems to work fine, although... Although the centre of gravity has shifted, the fascinating Benito now takes a back seat in the novel, in fact it's no longer his novel, and the impression I'm left with is just disappointment: what started out as a really promising book just drifts into, er, fog, just implodes. Which is a great shame considering that it started out so promisingly.

Jacques Poulin: La Tournée d'automne | Autumn Rounds (1993)

In Tiphaine Samoyault's article 'Référence et post-modernité : Jacques Poulin' (Littérature 113 (March 1999), pp. 15–23), she draws attention to an interesting idea that la Grande Sauterelle has in Volkswagen Blues: that a book is never complete in itself, that it has to be seen in relation to other books, and not only those by the same author. What is generally believed to be a book is frequently in reality merely part of a vast picture that others have worked on without knowing.

And not only books may be involved in the bigger picture. Samoyault is interested in intertextuality, and in Volkswagen Blues finds references to forty-four books, two films, three maps, three paintings, nine songs and six newspapers. And the references continue in Poulin's La Tournée d'automne: forty books, fourteen songs, one film, one newspaper and a radio programme.

Culture is very important in La Tournée d'automne, as it provides the glue that brings together the Québécois mobile library employee le Chauffeur (who is never named) and Marie, who has come to Québec city on a temporary basis with a group of travelling entertainers. Le Chauffeur and Marie are both (to take the cue from the book title) in the autumn of their life, both unattached, in need of a soulmate and – probably most important of all – both are in love with books, for which they share much the same tastes.

Le Chauffeur lives in Vieux-Québec near Château Frontenac, and in fact meets Marie as she stands one evening by a railing near the castle by the funicular entrance. He returns to see her with the troupe and talks and walks with her, becoming quietly obsessed with her, as she is with him. One night when they can't sleep he takes her for a ride in his bibliobus over the bridge to and around l'Île d'Orléans, where, as Marie remarks, Félix Leclerc used to live.

And later, when le Chauffeur has to do his summer round of the Côte-Nord, the entertainers decide to follow his route in an old school bus, stopping off at various points to entertain the inhabitants of villages and small towns, making good takings. It's an opportunity for two (very subtly) budding lovers to meet and talk and discover how very similar they are in cultural tastes, even how they use the same words and expressions. (Although, right up to the end, they continue – like Jack and la Grande Sauterelle – to address each other by the polite, rather distancing form of 'vous'.)

And as with Volkswagen Blues, this is very much a road novel: detailed observations are made about the itinerary, the various stops made along the Côte-Nord, and then – when Marie leaves the entertainers to fly back to France, le Chauffeur taking her to the airport, the novel details the continued journey and considerable detour le Chauffeur takes (during which the relationship is finally consummated) as they drive to Godbout, take the ferry to Matane, and go around the head of the Gaspésie peninsula. For a person unfamiliar with the route taken, I'd advise that this delightful book be read with a map to trace it.

But rather than Montréal airport it's just back to Québec, as that's where the journey and the book end. And not – as some readers might have thought – with le Chauffeur killing himself by using the pipe he carries in his glove compartment to attach to the exhaust pipe – but by him asking Marie if she'll join him on the autumn round. And she asks 'Pour le meilleur et pour le pire?' ('For better and for worse?), which veers a little too close to the sentimental for comfort, but the reader is at least happy that le Chauffeur has re-discovered a reason to live, that he'll be doing his autumn round after all, and that he'll have a companion to help feed all the cats they meet on the way.

I just can't understand why for the English translation the decision was made to pluralise the title, as so much hinges on the existence of the one coming autumn round – there's even a prominent allusion to it on the back cover of the above edition.

Alphonse Desjardins in Lévis, Québec

Alphonse Desjardins (1854–1920) was born in Lévis, Québec. He began a career in journalism, working for L'Écho de Lévis from 1872 to 1876, then spent three years with Le Canadien before eleven years editing discussions for the Legislative Assembly (now the National Assembly) of Québec. Then at thirty-five he founded the daily newspaper L'Union Canadienne, which only lasted three months.

But Desjardins is most known as the founder, with his wife Dorimène, of the first credit union (caisse populaire) in North America, which began in 1900 at his home in Lévis. In the years before this, Desjardins had been concerned with small borrowers' lack of access to banks and their vulnerability to usurers. He discovered Henry William Wolff's book People's Banks (1893), got in contact with him, and through Wolff established contact with European directors of credit cooperatives.

The Maison Alphonse-Desjardins (the one on the left here) is now a museum dedicated to Desjardin's life and work. Entrance is via the house on the right, which is full of information about the man.

'Sculpture d'Alphonse Desjardins en noyer cendré, realisée en 1990 

par Benoi Deschênes.

Don de Richard Fortin et de Lucie Bégin-Fortin, de Noble-Art, à la Société historique Alphonse-Desjardins.

Sculpture of Alphonse Desjardins, in butternut, created by Benoi Deschênes in 1990.

Donated to Société historique Alphonse-Desjardins by Richard Fortin and Lucie Bégin-Fortin of Noble-Art.'

The Maison Alphonse-Desjardins as represented in La Fresque Desjardins de Lévis.

The Mouvement des caisses Desjardins is the biggest group of credit unions in North America.

Samuel de Champlain on the Québec-Lévis ferry

The ferry from Québec to Lévis provides a good view of the city, Château Frontenac obviously taking pride of place. Of equal interest to me, though, were the backs of the benches that had several quotations from a French of some centuries ago, of which this is just one taken at random:

'& deſſus laditte montaigne eſt terre vunie & plaiſante à veoir'

These quotations are by Samuel de Champlain (1574–1635) from his Les Voyages de Samuel de Champlain au Canada de 1603 à 1618: Champlain was the founder of the then 'New France'.

Confucius in Québec city

'CONFUCIUS

555 av. J.-C. – 479 av.J.-C.

Philosophe et grand éducateur de la Chine, Confucius est né

dans l'État de Lu, aujourd'hui la ville de Qufu, au Shandong,

lors de la période de Printemps et de l'Automne.

Son enseignement a marqué la civilisation chinoise

et donné naissance au Confucionisme.

Cette statue constitue un témoignage d'amitié, de fraternité

et de compréhension du peuple du Shandong à l'égard

du peuple du Québec.

Don du gouvernement de la province du Shandong, Chine.

Printemps 2009'

Gandhi in Québec city

'MOHANDAS KARAMCHAND

GANDHI

1869–1948

APÔTRE DE LA NON-VIOLENCE

ET PÈRE DE LA NATION INDIENNE,

IL DEMEURE UN MODÈLE

DE LIBERTÉ ET DE DÉMOCRATIE

"LA DÉMOCRATIE DEVRAIT

ASSURER AU PLUS FAIBLE

LES MÊMES OPPORTUNITÉS

QU'AU PLUS FORTS"

UN TÉMOIGNAGE D'AMITIÉ, DE FRATERNITÉ ET

DE COMPRÉHENSION DU PEUPLE DE L'INDE

À L'ÉGARD DU PEUPLE DU QUÉBEC

LE 2 NOVEMBRE 2006'

'Democracy should ensure that the weakest have the same opportunities as the strongest'. Ah, yes, if only.

This is a link to Fredda Brilliant's Gandhi.

Octave Crémazie in Québec city

'LA SOCIÉTÉ DES POÈTES A FAIT

POSER CETTE PLAQUETTE EN 1932

SUR LA MAISON JADIS OCCUPÉE

PAR LA LIBRAIRIE CRÉMAZIE'

A likeness of the head, along with dates of the poet Octave Cremazie (1827–79), are on this plaque erected in 1932 to indicate that Crémazie's bookshop was here on rue de la Fabrique.

And on La Fresque des Québécois, a huge mural in Vieux-Québec, is a representation of Crémazie's bookshop, which among other things, is selling François Ricard's biography Gabrielle Roy: une vie (1972):

François-Xavier Garneau in Québec city

A major figure in the history of the literature of Québec, François-Xavier Garneau (1809–66) is most noted for his colossal three-volume Histoire du Canada depuis sa découverte jusqu'à nos jours (1845–48). He was also a poet and a journalist.

Just off the Grande Allée is an impressive statue of him, quill pen in hand, and in the heart of Vieux Québec:

'MAISON

FRANÇOIS-XAVIER GARNEAU

1862

MONUMENT HISTORIQUE'

'EN CETTE MAISON

RÉSIDA PLUSIEURS

ANNÉES, ET MOURUT, LE

3 FÉVRIER 1866,

FRANÇOIS-XAVIER

GARNEAU, L'HISTORIEN

DU CANADA.'

–––––––––––––

IN THIS HOUSE,

FRANÇOIS-XAVIER

GARNEAU, THE HISTORIAN

OF CANADA, LIVED FOR

SEVERAL YEARS AND HERE

HE DIED ON THE 3rd. OF

FEBRUARY, 1866.'

The town of Québec granted Garneau a pension in 1863, and he died overwhelmed by epilepsy three years later.

ADDENDUM: A representation of Garneau on La Fresque des Québécois:

The Busts of writers on rue d'Auteuil, Québec city

On the rue d'Auteuil in Québec city are a series of monuments to writers, installed there at different periods of the present century. The busts of Pushkin and Nelligan testify to the friendship between Saint Petersburg and Québec city.

Émile Nelligan (1879–1941), about whom I made a post here.

The bust contains a sonnet in which it is (quite possibly incorrectly) dated as 1899, the same year of Nelligan's entry into a mental hospital. The poem tells of a golden ship being wrecked, although of course it is really Nelligan himself who is mentally wrecked.

'Le Vaisseau d'or

C'était un grand Vaisseau taillé dans l'or massif.
Ses mâts touchaient l'azur sur des mers inconnues;
La Cyprine d'amour, cheveux épars, chairs nues,
S'étalait à sa proue, au soleil excessif.

Mais il vint une nuit frapper le grand écueil
Dans l'Océan trompeur où chantait la Sirène,
Et le naufrage horrible inclina sa carène
Aux profondeurs du Gouffre, immuable cercueil.

Ce fut un Vaisseau d'Or, dont les flancs diaphanes
Révélaient des trésors que les marins profanes,
Dégoùt, Haine et Névrose, entre eux ont disputés.

Que reste-t-il de lui dans la tempête brève ?
Qu'est devenu mon coeur, navire déserté ?
Hélas ! Il a sombré dans l'abîme du Rêve !'

Alexandre Pouchkine (Eng: Pushkin) (1799-1837).

'Mon nom ? Mais qu’est-il donc pour toi ?
Il mourra, comme sur la grève
Meurt l’écho que le flot soulève;
Comme un bruit, la nuit, dans un bois.

C’est un signe incompréhensible
Que ton carnet aura gardé,
Tel, sur une tombe, gravé,
Un grimoire en langue illisible.

Mon nom ? Tu l’auras oublié
Dans les remous, les aventures.
Sur ton âme il n’aura laissé
Aucune trace tendre ou pure.

Mais un jour triste, dis-le bien
À voix haute, avec nostalgie;
Tu diras : quelqu’un se souvient,
Un coœur où vit encore ma vie…'

Dante Alighieri (1265–1321)

'O lumière qui tant t'élève
au-dessus des pensées mortelles, reprête un peu
à mon esprit de ce que tu semblais
et rends ma langue si puisssante
qu'une étincelle de ta gloire
puisse arriver aux génerations futures'

Translation on the plinth of the bust from The Divine Comedy.

The poet and musical composer Komitas (1869–1935) is described here as the 'father and mother' of Armenian music, and notes that he scoured his country in order to save songs, dances and melodies from oblivion. The words below, an extact from Chant de l'émigré, are addressed to the crane bird, asking if it has news of their mutual country.

'Grue, d'où viens-tu ? Je suis l'esclave de ta voix !
Grue, n'as-tu pas une petite nouvelle de notre pays ?
Ne te presse pas, tu rejoindras bientôt ton essaim ;
grue, n'as-tu pas une petite nouvelle de notre pays ?'

The Confucian scholar and poet Nguyễn Trãi (1380–1442) was recognised by UNESCO as the person most representative of Vietnamese culture.

Taras Chevtchenko (1814–61), who was also named Schevchenko in English, was an important poet, a painter and a great supporter of Urkainian culture. The bust was erected in 2014 to commemorate the 200th anniversary of Chevtchenko's birth.

'Que notre esprit, que notre chant
Ne meure, ni s'éteigne.
C'est là que réside notre gloire,
La Gloire de Ukraine !'

I also have a link to another monument of him in Paris here.

The forty writers' poetical words on Michel Goulet's chairs, Québec city

At the Place de la Gare in Québec is a sculpture by Michel Goulet, consisting of a large number of chairs, forty of which contain poetical quotations from forty writers associated with Québec. It was presented by Montréal to Québec on the 400th anniversary of the capital of the province in 2008. The title is Rêver le nouveau monde: literally, Dreaming the New World. (Yes, after a number of days of glorious sunshine came more than a little rain.)

The sculpture begins with the world under one – and a house under another – chair.

'rêver le nouveau monde'

'Ce soir

Le monde est vieux

Et je m'ennuie

Ann HÉBERT

(1916–2000)'

'une acceptation de l'absence

un renoncement à l'explication

une connaissance du vertige

un bonheur de la rencontre

Madelaine GAGNON'

'j'attends de naître

pour répondre à tes lettres

j'attends tes lèvres pour parler

Kim DORÉ'

'Irving LAYTON

(1912–2006)

The hills

remind me

of you

Not because they curve soft and warm

lovely and firm

But because

a long time ago

you stared at them

as I am staring now'

'Heureux qui dans ses vers sait, d'une voix tonnante

Effrayer le méchant, le glacer d'épouvante ;

Qui, bien qu'avec gôut, se fait lire avec fruit,

Et, bien plus qu'il ne plaît, surprend, corrige, instruit.

Michel BIBAUD

(1782–1857)'

'Malgré l'effarement

Malgré la lassitude

Des voix s'arrachent

Y-a-t-il une façon simple

D'ouvrir lHistoire

D'assécher les bourbiers'

Louise COTNOIR'

'Vient le jour où la beauté

borde notre chemin.

On se penche sur la vie, et aussitôt

on se relève, le coeur tremblant,

plus fort d'une vérité ainsi effleurée.

Hélène DORION'

'Nous avons partagé nos ombres

Plus que nos lumières

Nous nous sommes montrés

Plus glorieux de nos blessures

Que des victoires éparses

Alain GRANDBOIS

(1900–1975)'

'Elle ferme les yeux et rerêve:

c'était avant l'invention de l'écriture

Yolande VILLEMAIRE '

'au bout de ce grand bout de terre

de peine et de misère

dis-moi

marie

pourquoi ce silence s'agrandit

Pierre PERRAULT

(1927–1999)'

'Mon désir parfois

ressemble aux dernières phrases

d'un livre

les livres n'ont pas de fin

les livres s'arrêtent

Normand DE BELLEFEUILLE'

'Le Cap Éternité

Témoin pétrifié des premiers jours du monde,

Il était sous le ciel avant l'humanité.

Charles GILL

(1871–1918)'

'Je dois tout dire dans une langue

qui n'est celle de ma mère.

C'est ça le voyage.

Dany LAFERRIÈRE'

'Toutes couleurs effacées.

Tous parfums supprimés,

Toutes paroles étouffées;

Muet et blanc,

Intolerable blanc,

Ce pays ne retient

Que les éclats du sang.

Gatien LAPOINTE

(1931–1984)'

'ne touchons pas au silence

il est notre réserve d'espoir

Nicole BROISSARD'

'Le monde ne vous attend plus

il a pris le large

le monde ne vous entend plus

l'avenir lui parle

Gaston MIRON

(1928–1996)'

'Sous le manteau de la prudence

qu'on prend parfois pour la sagesse,

on reconnaît souvent la peur.

Gilles VIGNEAULT'

'J'aimerais rester dans l'ombre

dans ton ombre familière

le temps d'un hiver au moins

sinon d'une vie entière.

Roland GIGUÈRE

(1929–2003)'

'Dans les yeux s'allume une ville,

qu'on n'a jamais pris la peine de visiter.

Louise DUPRÉ'

'Le plus difficile c'est le premier siècle.

Rendu à trois, la racine est profonde.

Voilà ce que chantent les enfants

l'été

Félix LECLERC

(1914–1988)'

'Tu me manque

De toujours

Tu es l'ombre de l'Absente

Tu es ce passé sans toi.

Jean ROYER'

'Il est sur le sol d'Amérique

Un doux pays aimé des cieux,

Où la nature magnifique

Prodigue ses dons merveilleux.

Octave CRÉMAZIE

(1827–1879)'

'Nous écrivons

dans la grande noirceur

d'un siècle qui siffle

en s'écroulant.

Nous écrivons

en guise d'accompagnement

de la terre.

Paul Chanel MALENFANT'

'...

veaux vaches cochons couvées

et préoccupations fi de vous et fi d'elles

à mon pays seul je suis fidèle

Gérard GODIN

(1938–1994)'

'Un enfant est en train de bâtir un village

C'est une ville, un comté

Et qui sait

Tantôt l'univers.

Il joue

Hector de Saint-Denys GARNEAU

(1912–1943)'

'La Mer navigue/

La Terre marche/

Le Ciel vole/

et moi, je rampe pour humer la vie...

Rita MESTOKOSHO'

'Je n'ai pas appris de Poucet

Le secret de marquer la route

Qui reconduise où l'on passait.

Alfred DESROCHERS

(1901–1978)'

This piece, concerning the sound of the Aurora Borealis, is written in Inuktitut by Emily Novalinga, who died the year after the artwork was created.

'Tu es la ville engloutie

sous les rumeurs pourtant je vois

il n'y a que toi parlant

et la passion que tu y mets

Hugues CORRIVEAU'

'Le travail n'est pas liberté

Le travail es dans la liberté

Claude GAUVREAU

(1925–1971)'

'L'homme...

Il se construit

Des milliers

Des millions

De milles

De câble blond

Et il leur a donné

Des millions

De milliers

De nœuds

Pour attacher la mer

Cécile CLOUTIER'

'Pleurez, oiseaux de février.

Au sinistre frisson des choses,

Pleurez, oiseaux de février,

Pleurez mes pleurs, pleurez mes roses,

Aux branches du genévrier.

Émile NELLIGAN

(1879–1941)'

'La nuit est une neige

qui tombe à l'envers.

Jean-Paul DAOUST'

'Il ne sait plus si sa propre mémoire

le garde vivant, si ses rêves

le nourisssent ou le dévastent.

Pierre NEPVEU'

'Je traversais sa nuit

et j'en rêvais le jour

je ne sais plus ce soir où va

la poésie

mais je sais qu'elle voyage

rebelle analogique

Claude BEAUSOLEIL'

'Petit jardin que j'ai planté,

Que ton enceinte sait me plaire !

Joseph QUESNEL

(1746–1806)'

'Hold me close

and tell me what the world is like

I don't want to look outside

I want to depend on your eyes

and your lips

Leonard COHEN'

'Seulement près de toy en cette saison dure.

Marc LESCARBOT

(1570–1642)'

'Chacun se débrouille seul

à rafistoler des bouts de rêves.

La table est mise.

Voyez. Venez.

Paul CHAMBERLAND'

'Là où ses petites histoires,

mine de rien, s'emboîtent

les unes dans les autres.

Denise DESAUTELS'

At the end of all this is a two-paragraph description of the work by Michel Goulet:

'Pour ce quatre centiéme,

quarante chaises domestiques

créent un parcours

dans l'espace, le temps

et les pensées furtives.

Quarante voix poétiques disent,

le temps d'une pause, ce que nous

avons été, ce que nous sommes

et le bonheur de la rencontre.

Ici pas seulement des

spectateurs sollicités mais des

personnes qui prennent part

activement à la construction

d'un rêve en y jouant un rôle

essentiel, en faisant le trajet d'un

point à un  autre, de la representation

géographique du fleuve qui

lie deux pôles du pays et l'ouvre

sur le monde et la représentation

de nos habitats fragiles, la Terre

et le domicile, ici, mis à l'abri.

M. Goulet, sculpteur'