The cold weather of yesterday there is room for a little snow. The St. Francis River becomes an abstraction, geometric black line and the middle of the white matrix of both banks. I smiled a lot yesterday to the media panic. Yes, it was less than thirty-two in the morning. So what? They call it winter in Quebec and I think we always have two or three cold spells similar between December and March. And sometimes it lasts longer than a week. Just annoying to ventilate the apartment now that I have rearrested smoking. Take the opportunity to cure the exercise: write a text without smudge. A single sheet today, perhaps serviceberry.
Dr. Ferron Ah! Curiously, the first book I read it does not impress me more than necessary. I read in a novel course in college, around 1978 and it was mandatory. The wild rose is a sad book in the vein where Ferron watching people get little slow in the world. I did not know at the same time the author was doing the same chose. Pourtant Ferron était une célébrité à Longueuil. Le fondateur du parti Rhinocéros habitait à deux pas de mon gros cégep et j’avais même eu la curiosité d’aller voir son bureau de médecin, sur le chemin Chambly.
C’est peut-être vingt ans plus tard que j’ai redécouvert son œuvre. D’abord les Escarmouches, recueil des ces historiettes et autres articles qu’il a multiplié dans les journaux. J’y ai savouré son ironie parfois féroce qui savait mordre les élites là où ça fait mal. Mais j’ai surtout lu un des plus grands connaisseurs de l’âme québécoise. He knew his stuff out of the folk-Catholic French to show diverse, multicultural key Irish or Native American, britannisée also by Scottish and English, always frankly amériquaine. He has also managed to go behind the scenery of the large villages of Quebec to find the gaps, that free men who can see the vanity of political and religious elites is nothing but the mask that is comfortable gives a people deeply uneasy, sometimes rebellious and who is silent to survive in a country uncertain. Sometimes we feel sorry to see what people s'anesthésier in the comfort of the suburbs universal. I think it is not wrong.
I have spoken often in this blog Ferron, his greatest book is probably The sky of Quebec, recently republished in his pocket at the library in Quebec. The annotated edition is fortunately, which lets you enjoy all keys, all the winks which abound in the story. This was not the least talent of this writer know that his books distill into his encyclopedic knowledge and practice in Quebec. Studies ferronniennes sont encore très vivantes, on en a l’écho dans ce très vaste site qui lui est consacré. On y trouve quelques historiettes, ce qui ne gâche rien.
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