Showing posts with label Hebert (Anne). Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hebert (Anne). Show all posts

20 March 2026

Tales of Terror, Torment, and... Charm?

The Torrent [Le torrent]
Anne Hébert [trans Gwendolyn Moore]
Montreal: Harvest House, 1973
141 pages

Anne Hébert completed Le torrent in 1945, but it didn't reach bookstores until five years later. No Quebec publisher would touch the work, which explains how it is that the first edition was printed privately. A slim collection of five short stories, it was considered too dark, too disturbing and, according to the author, too violent. That's the story anyway. The truth is much more complicated, as detailed in Marie-Andrée Lamontagne's brilliant, exhaustive biography Anne Hébert, vivre pour écrire. (Montreal: Boréal, 2019).

When Le torrent was reissued in 1963, the Quiet Revolution was well underway, which may explain why Éditions Hurtubise took it on, adding two stories. The Torrent was released ten years after that as the fifth title in the all-too-brief Harvest House French Writers of Canada series.

 
Remarkably, Le torrent, was the first Anne Hébert title to be translated. By the time The Torrent was published, she her bibliography consisted of Les songes en equilibre (1942), Le torrent (1950), Le tombeau des rois (1953), Poèmes (1960), and Kamouraska (1970), her masterpiece.

Growing up in Montreal, the 1973 film adaptation of Kamouraska was everywhere.


As a result, I knew Anne Hébert's name at age ten, though another eight years passed before I read anything she'd written. My introduction was 'The House on the Esplanade' ('La maison de l'Esplanade'), the fifth of the seven stories in The Torrent.

The titular house belongs to elderly spinster Stéphanie de Bichette, "a curious little creature [...] with limbs that were poorly formed, and too thin." It dates from the time of New France: "You  know them, those narrow houses with their steep roofs and their rows of gabled windows, the upper ones about as large as a swallows nest." Stéphanie de Bichette lives there with her chambermaid Géraldine, occupying no more than one or two rooms on each floor. The other rooms – there are many – have been gradually been closed off. The two belonging to her younger brothers, who'd both died of scarlet fever when Mlle de Bichette was ten, were the first. Her mother died shortly thereafter. Irénée, the older brother was killed in a hunting accident, and so his room was shut off. Once sister Desneiges entered the Ursuline convent, her room was also sealed. And then there's Charles... Charles was disowned for marrying a girl from the Lower Town. His former room is treated like all the others. When Géraldine enters to clean, she makes certain to place each item in the very same place as when the room was vacated. The chambermaid looks to the day she will be able to do the same with her mistress's room.

I've reviewed two other French Writers of Canada books over the years: The Temple on the River (Les Écœurants) by Jacques Hébert and Bitter-Bread (La Scouine) by Albert Laberge. Both were dark, but not nearly so dark as The Torrent, which has me wondering about its peculiar back cover copy: 


The titular story does indeed "strike with devastating impact." François, the narrator, grows up on a small remote farm, cut off from the rest of the world. It begins:  
As a child, I was dispossessed of the world. By decree of a will higher than my own, I had to renounce all passion in this life. I related to the world by fragments, only at those points which were immediately and strictly necessary , and which were removed from me as soon as their usefulness had ended.
François knows only his mother, a threatening figure. He dares not look at her face; it is unlikely that he would recognize her on the street.

But there is no street. The boy's early years are spent on the farm, and the farm alone. There is such a sense of foreboding in the early pages that nothing is spoiled in revealing that the story features child abuse, animal abuse,  nd almost certainly murder.

Returning to the cover copy, this sentence stands out: "The background of course [emphasis mine], is a small Quebec community with its morally repressive environment."

In fact, The story features no Quebec community of any size. The morally repressive environment is the sole creation of the boy's mother, who keeps a ledger detailing "the wages of sin."

What strikes even more is this: "Included under the title The Torrent, are a group of stories that are charming, except for 'The Torrent' itself..."

There is not one charming story in The Torrent.

'Springtime for Catherine' is set in wartime. A population is forced to flee, discarding the elderly, infirm, and pregnant to fend for themselves in the face of the approaching enemy. Catherine, a servant girl, is awkward and unattractive, but is able to keep up. Endless years of toil with little sleep have prepared her for such a challenge. She is a "foundling," a "dirty little beast," a "Child of Sin;" Catherine is her name, but she's referred to as "The Flea." 

Having taken refuge in a barn, one night the girl is discovered by a drunken soldier. His clumsy hands undress her and for "one spark of time" she is a princess, she feels loved. In the light of the early dawn, she considers the youth and beauty of the sleeping soldier. How much ridicule might he receive for having slept with her? He would soon awaken and discover his mistake: "He must never know that he had made love to the Flea, the servant girl death's head, the joke and scorn of everyone."

And so, Catherine plunges a knife into his throat.

Have I spoiled 'Springtime for Catherine?' Trust me, there's so much more to the story. My intention was to show the absurdity of the cover copy. Were it not for the fact that the same text continues to be used to sell copies today, I wouldn't have bothered.

Besides, I haven't even touched upon 'A Grand Marriage' ('Un grand mariage') which is Anne Hébert's very best short story.

Wish I'd found it at eighteen.

Object: A mass market paperback printed on paper that is far superior to that typically used in that format, fifty-three years later there's not a hint of yellowing. The cover design is by Robert Reid. The cover illustration is by Gilberte Christin de Cardaillac. I purchased my copy this past autumn at the Merrickville Book Emporium. Price: $2.00.

Access: Though Harvest House is long out-of-business, copies are available through the University of Ottawa Press at $14.95 (plus shipping).


Le torrent is currently available from Bibliothèque Québécoise. Two editions are available. I recommend the most recent, published just last year, for its inclusion of an introduction by Natalie Watteyne. Priced at $10.95, you can purchase it by way of Jeff Bezos, but wouldn't you rather going directly to the publisher? Here's the link.

Related post:

25 June 2025

On Abebooks' '20 must-read Canadian authors'

My first Abebooks transaction took place in 1997, roughly two years after the site launched. I purchased a copy of Mordecai Richler's Stick Your Neck Out, Simon & Schuster's first American edition of the novel we Canadians know as The Incomparable Atuk.

Whatever you think of the two titles, there's no denying that the Canadian cover, credited to Len Deighton – yes, Len Deighton – is superior.

My second find was a very nice first edition of George Gissing's Eve's Ransom. If memory serves, it set me back all of eight quid.

There were very real bargains to be had in Abebooks' early days, and it pleased me to think that the company was Canadian.

Abebooks is no longer Canadian. In 2008, it was sold to Amazon. I still use it, though less with each passing year. Bargains are now few and far between. The company does its best to encourage, emailing daily lists like '30 essential mystery authors,' 50 essential non-fiction books,' and 'World's most valuable children's books,' which presents '10 books that commend high prices.'

Last week, I received this:

The graphic caught my eye because all of the authors are still very much with us. The titles featured were published within the last thirty years.

The text struck the usual notes: "range of voices," "unique history," "multicultural identity," "indigenous storytelling," and "narratives of everyday life," reaching a crescendo with: "Canadian literature is as diverse as the people who call it home."

"From the North to the lively cities" was something original, and the reference to "bilingual works" was intriguing. The handful of bilingual works in my collection are results of academic collaborations between French and English-language scholars. 

Abebooks' list is presented in four rows, each consisting of five books.

cliquez pour agrandir

We begin with Margaret Atwood's big book. And why not? Forty years after initial publication, The Handmaid's Tale is more timely than ever. The first season of the Hulu adaptation is recommended.

The late Alice Munro stands with Mavis Gallant as the younger of Canada's two greatest short story writers. Both deserved the Nobel Prize. It's odd that her final book, Dear Life, is shown – and with its American paperback cover – when it is her weakest collection. It's odder still that the author is written about in the present tense.

"Joseph Boyden is known for his novels that explore Indigenous identity in Canada," begins the short entry.
 
I sense no irony.

Next comes Robert Munch, the only children's author on the list. To date, I've read only three books by the man: The Paperbag Princess, which I liked;  Jonathan Cleaned Up – Then He Heard a Sound, which I really liked; and Love You Forever, which is one of the worst books I've ever read.

I've not read anything by Suzette Mayr. This has more to say about me than her. Published two years ago, The Sleeping Car Porter is the most recent book of the five.

cliquez pour agrandir

Because this is the year I stopped paying attention to Canada Reads, I was unaware of Mai Nguyen's Sunshine Nails. Women Talking, on the other hand, is a novel I know well, as are Heather O'Neill's Lullabies for Little Criminals, L.M. Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables and Yann Martel's Life of Pi.

Montgomery has not been posthumously recognized by the Canadian Literary Walk of Fame, as is claimed, for the simple reason that there is no Canadian Literary Walk of Fame.

cliquez pour agrandir

Rohinton Mistry's 1991 novel Such a Long Journey was not awarded the Giller Prize. The Giller was established in 1995.

The Inconvenient Indian by Thomas King is a work of non-fiction, not a novel.  

Is that cover of Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town not strange? Turns out it's a print on demand edition that comes courtesy of Britons dedicated to furthering "The Hippy Dream." The image used is a portion of a digitally produced work of a city hellscape that is in the public domain.

That ain't Mariposa. That ain't no little town.

Eden Robinson's novel Son of a Trickster has indeed received critical acclaim, however it did not win the Giller, (though it was a finalist). Given that Robinson is a BC writer, it will come as no surprise that Son of a Trickster did not receive the Writers Guild of Alberta's Howard O'Hagan Award (which, I note, is given for "outstanding single short story").

As a great admirer, I was pleased to see Anne Hébert recognized, but at the same time wondered why the paperback cover of The Silent Rooms, the 1974 Kathy Mezei translation of Les chambres du bois (1958), was chosen as the image. Sadly, the text provides no clue. While it is true that Hébert was awarded France's Prix de librairies and Prix Femina, it is also true that she received Canada's Governor General's Award no less that three times. One would think those accomplishments would deserve mention.

Carolyn Arnold was not known to me, which could be explained by my focus on the past. According to her website she has self-published forty-six novels in the past fourteen years.

I do know the work of Susan Joly, and not because Alice, I Think has been adapted by the Comedy Network.

One can't avoid Malcolm Gladwell in this country. These days, I encounter him most often in his role as co-founder of Pushkin Industries and through his podcast Revisionist History. If you aren't aware of the latter, do check out the the the episode on Randy Newman's Good Old Boys.

As with Alice Munro, the Marie-Claire Blais entry is written as though the writer is still with us. Sadly, she died in 2021. In the years that followed the death of Brian Moore, she was my favourite living Canadian author. Not only did she win the Governor General's Award, she did so four times, which is more than any other author. The bland grey, red, and black print on demand edition shown is an insult.

Roch Carrier is another favourite. Montcalm and Wolfe, a work of non-fiction written by a novelist, is an odd choice. Not to suggest that the book doesn't deserve attention, but I would've chosen to highlight La Guerre, yes sir! or De l'amour dans la ferraille. It's amusing to see the Governor General's Award for the first and only time referred to as the Prix du Gouverneur général. Roch Carrier has never once received the Prix du Gouverneur général... or Governor General's Award, if you prefer. 

Abebooks' Amazon's list reminded me of nothing so much as CBC Books' ridiculous '100 Novels That Make You Proud to Be Canadian,' though there are significant differences. For one, there seems to have been no attempt at gender parity; where the CBC Books list was an even 50/50, the Abebooks list is 12/8 favouring female authors. If anything, this imbalance is more reflective of reality. 

What brought the CBC Books list to mind was the stark contrast between past and present. Sixteen of the twenty must-read Canadian authors are still with us. Our literary history stretches back to the eighteenth century, yet the earliest titles presented date from the twentieth century. The vast majority  thirteen of twenty  were published in the last twenty-five years.   

The selection of the 20 must-reads is presented as the result of a team effort. How big was the team? Who were its members?

My queries to Abebooks have gone unanswered. 

20 March 2025

Dusty CanLit Winter Reviews


Blogs. 

They were done in by social media, right?

In my own small way I helped hasten the decline. Back in 2011, after years of reluctance, I was encouraged to set up a Facebook account so as to promote A Gentleman of Pleasure, my biography of John Glassco. Did the effort sell a copy or two? Perhaps, though I very much doubt it sold three.

I quit Facebook in January after watching Mark Zuckerberg at Trump's second inauguration. If interested, you can now find me here on Bluesky.

I've been reading blogs for thirty years now. Most of my favourites are no longer, but not necessarily for want of effort. The blog I miss the most is Ron Scheer's Buddies in the Saddle, devoted to the "frontier West in history, myth, film, and popular fiction." Next month marks the tenth anniversary of Ron's death. We never met, but he taught me a great deal through his posts and in the comments he left to my own. Though an American, he wrote a lot about the history, myth, film, and popular fiction of Western Canada.

This is all to say that I've found blogs richer and more fulfilling than any found on a social media platform. So, this year, in appreciation of other bloggers I'll be sharing seasonal roundups of links to reviews of old Canadian books from favourite blogs.

Now in its eighteenth year, Jean-Louis Lessard's Laurentiana, is the very best online source for information on French-language Canadian literature. This winter saw ten titles added to the nine hundred reviewed thus far:

Leaves & Pages has long been a favourite, and not only because of a shared interest in the works of William C. Heine, author of The Last Canadian and The Swordsman [aka The Sea Lord]. The Leaves & Pages review of Anne Cameron's South of an Unnamed Creek always raises a smile. 



Back in 2005, Olman Feelyus set himself the goal of of reading at least fifty books per annum. Some years he succeeds, some he does not, but lately he's been on a real tear... which means more reviews! He's up to fourteen already, three of which are Canadian. His review of the old NCL edition of Roughing It in the Bush ranks amongst my faves. Happy twentieth anniversary to Olman's Fifty!
The Narratives of Fugitive Slaves in Canada - Benjamin Drew
The Luck of Ginger Coffey - Brian Moore 

The Pulp and Paperback Fiction Reader has a real talent for finding CanLit obscurities. Consider its most recent post, which looks at the 25 April 1933 edition of Short Stories. The issue features an H. Bedford-Jones short story and a novella, 'The Trained Cow Kills,' by Saskatchewan newspaperman Geoffrey Hewelcke (aka "Hugh Jeffries"). As far as actual books go, we have a review this uncommon title:
Riders of the Badlands - Thomas P. Kelley 

Moving south of the border, The Invisible Event shared a recent discovery of the Screech Owls series. Given the review, I'm feeling confident that there will be more Screech Owls reviews to come.

Murder at Hockey Camp - Roy MacGregor 

Mystery*File echoed Leaves & Pages' appreciation of Ross Macdonald:


Paperback Warrior was so brave as to take on the third of New Brunswick boy W.E.D. Ross's thirty-eight Dark Shadows novels. Last autumn, I tackled number nineteen. 


In January, J F Norris of Pretty Sinister returned after a year's hiatus with a 2024 recap of his reading. It includes a positive review of Ontario boy Hopkins Moorhouse's second novel The Gauntlet of Alceste, a 1921 mystery set in New York.


Vintage Pop Fictions reviewed Buccaneer Blood, the twelfth title in the sixteen-volume H. Bedford-Jones Library from American publisher Altus Press:

Returning home, I would be remiss in not recognizing Fly-By-Night. No reviews, but the research it has shared on Canadian paperbacks of the 'forties and 'fifties these past sixteen years has proven invaluable:

For the record, I wrote only five reviews of old Canadian books this past season, all of which were posted on this blog:
More this spring!

Keep 'em coming!

Herbert Joseph Moorhouse
24 April 1882, Kincardine Township, Ontario
9 January 1960, Vancouver, BC

RIP

Related posts:

29 October 2021

The Scotts of Quebec City


Having praised Quebec City and its plaques bleu on Wednesday, I now condemn.

And with good reason. 

As one may divine, the above – 755, rue Saint-Jean – was built as a church. Dedicated to St Matthew, patron saint of tax collectors and accountants, its history dates to 1772. The grounds surrounding hold centuries-old bones of the Anglican faithful.

St Matthew's most notable rector was Frederick George Scott (1861-1944). A charismatic Anglo-Catholic, his views on religion fit well – as well as might be hoped – in a predominantly Catholic city. Outside the Church, Scott is best known as the Poet of the Laurentians. He produced thirteen volumes of verse in his 82 years. The favourite in my collection is a signed copy of Selected Poems, which was published in 1933 by Emile Robitaille, 30 Garneau Street, Quebec City.

In 1980, the Anglican Church of Canada gave St Matthew's to the Ville du Quebec. It was remade and remodelled as a library. In 2017, it was named after novelist and memoirist Claire Martin (1914-2014).

I'm a great admirer of Martin, and have sung her praises here and here.  She deserves greater recognition in English-speaking Canada. I wonder how she's remembered in French-speaking Canada? In the very same hour I took these photos, I purchased three signed Martin first editions at between six and eight dollars apiece.

I digress.

La bibliothèque Claire-Martin features a very attractive entrance detailing the author's life and work.

This is supplemented with a half-dozen displays lining the library's centre aisle.

Much as I was happy to see them, I was bothered that there was no recognition whatsoever of F.G. Scott. Not only that, there was no recognition of the reverend's third son, Francis Reginald Scott (1899-1985), who was born in the manse overlooking the aforementioned cemetery.

F.G. Scott was one of the most celebrated Canadian poets of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Son F.R. Scott was a founder of both the CCF and the NDP, was Dean of the McGill Law Faculty, fought dictatorial Quebec premier Maurice Duplessis, and defeated the censors in Canada's own Lady Chatterley's Lover trial. F.R. Scott's bibliography consists of over a dozen books, including the Governors General's Award-winning Essays on the Constitution: Aspects of Canadian Law and Politics (Toronto: University of Toronto, 1977) and The Collected Poems of F. R. Scott (Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 1981). He is recognized as a pioneer in the translation and promotion of Québecois literature.

La bibliotheque Claire-Martin has no books by either man. In fact, there are no books by F.G. Scott in the entire Quebec City public library system. La bibliothèque de Québec has one – one – volume by F.R. Scott, Dialogue sur la traduction, (Montreal: Éditions HMH, 1970). I can't help but think this has everything to do with it having been co-written by Anne Hébert.

My copy, inscribed by Scott to Hugo McPherson, purchased thirty years ago at the Montreal Antiquarian Book Fair.
This is not to suggest that the Scott family is unrecognized. Sharp-eyed visitors will spot this century-old plaque dedicated to members of the St Matthew's Anglican Church congregation who fell during the Great War.


The second column bears the name of Henry Hutton Scott, F.G. Scott's son, F.R. Scott's brother, who was killed during the capture of Regina Trench. A chaplain in the First Canadian Division, Reverend Scott shares a moving account of the search for son's body in The Great War as I Saw It (Toronto: Goodchild, 1922). For those who haven't read it, this short piece from the 1 December 1916 edition of the Toronto Daily Star gives some idea of what to expect.


All this is to recognize the absence of recognition. La bibliotheque Claire-Martin has no plaques bleu dedicated to F.G. Scott and F.R. Scott. La bibliotheque Claire-Martin has no books by F.G. Scott and F.R. Scott.  

To borrow a phrase used by Jacques Parizeau, it's a bloody disgrace.

21 June 2020

A Father's Love on Father's Day



A favourite purchase of last year, and a cherished volume for all time, my copy of Anne Hebert's 1942 debut, Les songes en équilibre, bears this inscription from her father:


Mine is anything but unique. That Maurice Hébert presented other copies with similar sentiments makes me love it all the more.

A Happy Father's Day!

This one marks my twenty-third.

I am blessed.

Related post:

26 December 2019

The Very Best Reads of a Very Strange Year



It's been a disorienting and disruptive year. The home we'd expected to build on the banks of the Rideau became entangled in red tape, an inept survey, and a tardy Official Plan. In our impatience, we left our rental and bought an existing house a ten-minute drive south. We may just stay. If we do, an extension is in order. I'm writing this on a desk at the dead end of a cramped second storey hallway.

All this is shared by way of explanation. I reviewed only twenty books here and in my Canadian Notes & Queries 'Dusty Bookcase' column. Should that number be boosted to twenty-three? Three of the books were reread and reviewed in translated, abridged, and dumbed down editions.

Yes, a strange year... made doubly so by the fact that so very many of the books reviewed are currently available. Selecting the three most deserving of a return to print  an annual tradition – should've been challenging, but was in fact quite easy:

The Arch-Satirist
Frances de Wolfe
   Fenwick
Boston: Lothrop, Lee &
   Shepard, 1910

This story of a spinster and her young, beautiful, gifted, bohemian, drug-addled half-brother poet is the most intriguing novel read this year. Set in Montreal's Square Mile, is it a roman à clef? I'm of that city, but not that society, so cannot say with any certainty.
M'Lord, I Am Not Guilty
Frances Shelley Wees
New York: Doubleday,

   1954

A wealthy young widow moves to a bedroom community hoping to solve the murder of her cheating husband. This is post-war domestic suspense of the highest order. I'd long put off reading M'Lord, I Am Not Guilty because of its title, despite strong reviews from 65 years ago. My mistake.

The Ravine
Kendal Young
     [Phyllis Brett Young]
London: W.H. Allen, 1962

The lone thriller by the author of The Torontonians and PsycheThe Ravine disturbed more than any other novel. Two  girls are assaulted – one dies  in a mid-sized New England town. Their art teacher, a woman struggling with her younger sister's disappearance, sets out to entrap the monster. 


The keen-eyed will have noted that The Ravine does not feature in the stack of books at the top of this post. My copy is currently in Montreal, where it's being used to reset a new edition as the fifteenth Ricochet Book.


Amy Lavender Harris will be writing a foreword. Look for it this coming May.

Of the books reviewed, those in print are:


A succès de scandal when first published in 1895, The Woman Who Did is Grant Allen's most famous book. It doesn't rank amongst the best of the fifteen Allen novels I've read to date, but I found it quite moving. Recommended. It's currently available in a Broadview Press edition.


The Black Donnellys is pulpmaster Thomas P. Kelley's most enduring book; as such, it seems the natural place to start. Originally published in 1954 by Harlequin, this semi-fictional true crime title been in and out of print with all sorts of other publishers. The most recent edition, published by Darling Terrace, appeared last year.


Experiment in Springtime (1947) is the first Margaret Millar novel to be considered outside the mystery genre. Still, you'd almost think a body will appear. See if you don't agree. The novel can be found in Dawn of Domestic Suspense, the second volume in Syndicate Books' Collected Millar


The Listening Walls (1952) ranks amongst the weakest of the Millars I've read to date, which is not to say it isn't recommended. The 1975 bastardization by George McMillin is not. It's the last novel featured in The Master at Her Zenith, the third volume in The Collected Millar.


I read two versions of Margaret Saunders' Beautiful Joe in this year. The first, the "New and Revised Edition," was published during the author's lifetime; the second, Whitman's "Modern Abridged Edition," was not. The original 1894 edition is one of the best selling Canadian novels of all time. One hundred and fifteen year later, it's available in print from Broadview and Formac.


Jimmie Dale, Alias the Gray Seal by American Michael Howard proved a worthy prequel to Frank L. Packard's Gray Seal adventures. Published by the author, it's available through Amazon.

This year, as series editor for Ricochet Books, I was involved in reviving The Damned and the Destroyed, Kenneth Orvis's 1962 novel set in Montreal's illicit drug trade. My efforts in uncovering the author's true identity and history form the introduction.


Praise this year goes to House of Anansi's 'A List' for keeping alive important Canadian books that have escaped Bertelsmann's claws. It is the true inheritor of Malcolm Ross's vision.


And now, as tradition dictates, resolutions for the new year:
  • My 2018 resolution to read more books by women has proven a success in that exactly fifty percent of books read and reviewed here and at CNQ were penned by female authors. I resolve to stay the course.
  • My 2018 resolution to read more French-language books might seem a failure; the only one discussed here was Le dernier voyage, a translation of Eric Cecil Morris's A Voice is Calling. I don't feel at all bad because I've been reading a good number of French-language texts in researching my next book. Still, I'm hoping to read and review more here in the New Year.
  • At the end of last year's survey, I resolved to complete one of the two books I'm currently writing. I did not. For shame! How about 2020?
  • Finally, I plan on doing something different with the blog next year by focusing exclusively on authors whose books have never before featured. What? No Grant  Allen? No Margaret Millar? No Basil King? As if 2019 wasn't strange enough.
Bonne année! 

Addendum: As if the year wasn't strange enough, I've come to the conclusion that Arthur Stringer's debut novel, The Silver Poppy, should be one of the three books most deserving a return to print.


But which one should it replace?