I have been in hiding....self-protective....hiding in a language that is not mine though it has become part of who I am....has the danger passed.....it feels like it might have....Have we mourned him enough?
Writing in English is a choice I make every day because it is my second language. At this time in Quebec, it is more difficult than usual to survive as a writer in either language due to the recession which is squeezing the breath out of us as we try to keep up with our bills and live our Spartan lives.
I've been writing and publishing for thirty years and, by now, I feel comfortable writing in English and in French. Though French is the language of my ancestors, of my family, of my childhood, I love both languages. I studied in French schools until university. In 1965, at the age of thirteen, my wish had been to attend English high school. Could part of the reason have been that English was the language of the Beatles who had many of us enthralled? Or was it the dances with live bands? English high school seemed to be more fun. My parents discouraged this wish and explained that I had to be well-educated in my mother tongue first.
I learned to speak English as a child when I lived in Notre Dame de Grace (NDG). This opened doors for me as I was invited into neighbours' homes. Passionate about reading, I soon learned to read English which increased my choice of books. My roots in French Quebec go deep. My paternal roots are in Quebec City where my father was born and grew up in a large manse-like house on Avenue du parc in the heart of the city. His great-grandfather, Sir Hector Langevin, was a Father of Confederation who worked closely with Sir John A. Macdonald. My father’s parents were neighbours' of Anne Hébert’s family. He remembers her as a fragile child who rested for hours in a chair in the garden. One of my favourite novels is her poetic Kamouraska, the wild love affair set in the snow and ice of our countryside.
My wish to study in English came true in 1969 when I entered Sir George Williams University, which had become a CEGEP that year. Unlike today, there were few French-speaking students enrolled. I learned to write essays in English and studied the poetry and novels of D.H. Lawrence, Thomas Hardy, and F. Scott Fitzgerald among others. I soon had an English-speaking boyfriend who had been to the Woodstock festival that summer. We shared the vision of peace and love
that the festival promoted.
The political mood in Quebec turned dark and frightening in October 1970. The history of Quebec and Canada took another violent turn. And worse, it happened in my backyard, so to speak. On October 17, Pierre Laporte, a Quebec Liberal Minister, lawyer, and former journalist for Le Devoir was murdered by the Front de Libération du Québec, (FLQ). He was 49 years old. His death was a terrible blow to the sense of security in Quebec.
I lived nearby with my parents. Upon learning of the minister's death, my mother kept repeating in shock: "But I just saw him at the pharmacy, a few days ago. He held the door open for me and said hello!" My thoughts were focused on a quiet boy, Pierre Laporte's nephew, who had sat in the front row in the classroom we had shared in elementary school.
What had endeared him to the class was how he would wiggle his ears up and down whenever the teacher was boring, and turn bright red, when he heard us giggle behind him. It made me sad to think he was marked by this tragic loss in his family.
The traumatic political turn only made me want to continue to study in English and I enrolled in creative writing courses at Concordia University. In 1979, I met another student poet who would later become my husband. Like so many Quebecers, we decided to move to Toronto but we returned to Montreal in the mid 1980’s. I missed my family and hearing and speaking the French language. As well, my husband, who was originally from Winnipeg, Manitoba, was able to get along in French.
As a writer, I was inspired by both Canadian and Québécois literature which began to blossom and nourish my imagination in the 1980s and 90s. Then another political crisis erupted that affected me deeply: the second referendum on Quebec sovereignty.
On October 30, 1995, the night of the results of the vote, we had family from England to entertain so we drove through the deserted streets to the restaurant. I'll never forget how, under a street light, two forlorn children were holding up a banner made from a sheet on which were written in big letters SAVE CANADA. It touched me that children would feel the insecurity we were feeling. Our guests couldn't understand why we were jittery in the restaurant and why we wanted to return quickly to watch the news. They couldn't empathize with the fact that our country might be divided. When, at last, the results came in, my relief was emotional. However, not everyone in the family felt the same way.
Since then, there seems to be a more relaxed exchange between the cultures. I have attended readings at the Arts Café on Esplanade Street where writers from both cultures perform. There is also the Blue Metropolis International Literary festival in Montreal which presents a multicultural feast of languages.
When I am invited at a literary event, I feel more vulnerable and exposed when I read my poems in French. My voice comes out shaky; the voice of a generation who felt overwhelmed yet continues to create the unique literature of our country.
2010 has been a year of milestones for Quebec.
It has been:
50 years since the Quiet Revolution
40 years since the October Crisis
30 years since the first referendum on Quebec sovereignty
20 years since the failed Meech Lake Accord
15 years since the second referendum on Quebec sovereignty
Poetry Quebec would like to know whether the social, political and/or cultural changes that have impacted on Quebec over the past few decades have been advantageous or detrimental to your practice as an English language poet in the province. Has it fuelled your work? Has it fuelled your ire? Have the changes created a divisive atmosphere among the English and French language poets in the province? Are you comfortable/satisfied/disappointed with the grant and festival opportunities for English language poets here? Do you believe there is equity for English and French language poets in Quebec? What are your views on the importance of developing a collaborative writing (or professional) relationship with our French language counterparts?
Poetry Quebec welcomes your personal experiences, reflections, observations, rants and/or opinions about working as a minority within the larger francophone majority.
