Nice morning,
light blue,
first time,
this season,
that,
walking to work,
involved a little bit,
of frost on the ground,
not snow,
frost,
makes things a little,
greasy,
every year,
your feet,
your muscles,
need to delve into,
their memories,
to walk on the frost,
in the snow,
and so it begins…
🙂
I’ve had a busy weekend,
nice dinner on Saturday,
and,
Sunday,
I went to the Montreal Book Fair,
it was fun,
too many people,
for my taste,
but,
fun.
Nice to see,
so many people,
who care about books,
especially,
home grown French books.
The vitality of Quebecois books,
is essential,
to our continued presence,
in Canada,
and,
indeed,
North America,
this continent,
which was ‘settled’,
and,
‘explored’,
by our French ancestors,
has seen the French population,
shrink,
all but,
wipped out of the U.S,
and,
hanging on,
in Canada,
through,
Quebec and New Brunswick.
Populations change,
so do birth rates,
assimilation,
is common,
and,
let’s face it,
easier.
Still,
were the French speaking populations,
of Canada to dissapear,
we would be poorer,
collectively,
for it.
We aren’t there yet,
still it’s nice to see,
the vibrancy of the culture.
Last year,
I promised myself,
I would read more books,
in French,
haven’t really acheived that,
must keep trying:-)
Some of you,
might not know this about me,
but,
I come from both sides,
of the two solitudes,
An expression that comes from Hugh MacLellan`s 1945Â novel set in Montreal. It describes the lack of communication from both sides of the English-French divide.
my mother,
is 100 per cent French-Canadian,
my father was,
half Scottish and half Hungarian,
both were born and raised,
in Montreal.
My mother spoke French,
and learned English later,
my father spoke English,
and,
learned French.
They both spoke both,
well,
with accents, but,
well.
I learned both,
pretty much,
at the same time,
and,
I go from one to the other,
without realising it.
I live in Quebec,
so mostly,
I’ve worked in French,
but,
I’ve always needed to speak English.
I belong to both cultures.
All my roots are important to me,
and,
I still need to work,
on keeping the,
French reading muscles,
strong.
I bought a book at the book fair,
a detective novel,
set in Montreal in 1947,
I like the detective genre.
The author’s name is Maxime Houde,
I don’t believe he’s been translated.
But,
I would highly recommend,
some of our Quebecois authors,
who have been translated,
Michel Tremblay,
probably our greatest living writer,
Gabrielle Roy,
a national treasure,
and,
some less obvious choices,
Jacques Poulin,
a subtle writer,
very much both,
Quebecois and North American,
’cause wether we speak,
only French or both,
French and English,
or Mandarin, Hindi,
Vietnamese, Creole,
Russian, Arabic….
that’s what we are,
Quebecois and North American.
Later girls,
BB
