Читать книгу The Town Below - Roger Lemelin - Страница 6

BY SAMUEL PUTNAM

The scene of this novel is Saint-Joseph’s parish in the suburbs of Saint-Sauveur, in Quebec’s picturesque Lower Town, at the foot of the long, winding Pente Douce, or “Gentle Slope,” that connects the Lower with the Upper Town. In this parish there are two social classes: the Mullots (feminine: Mulotes) or workers, literally “lazy good-for-nothings”; and the Soyeux (feminine: Soyeuses) or middle-class residents — the literal meaning of the word is “silky” or “silken.” In addition, there are Gonzagues, or bigots, who, though belonging to the Soyeux, constitute something very like a class in themselves. (They derive their name from the Saint-Gonzaga Society.) These terms, being in reality untranslatable, have been retained in the English version.

There are also political alignments that play a prominent part in the story and that cut across class boundaries, the two chief parties being the reds and the blues, or, respectively, the Liberals and the Conservatives. The terms red and blue date from a time when the Canadian clergy took an active part in politics and would thunder from the pulpit: “Heaven is blue, hell is red, you will know for which side to vote.” The Liberals, it may be remarked, still adhere to the tradition of the early-century premier, Sir Wilfred Laurier. As for the separatists, or ardent French-Canadian nationalists, they form a movement rather than a party and will be heard talking of “the Race” (meaning the French Canadians), the necessity of a “strong nation,” of rebuilding the youth, et cetera. This nationalist spirit is reflected in such an organization as the Saint-Jean-Baptiste Society with its parochial sections or branches.

On the other hand, the “communists” that are referred to in this book are not to be taken seriously. They are the product of the overheated imagination of the bigoted and ambitious Monsieur Pritontin or afford convenient sermon material for a Father Folbèche, that is about all. There are, of course, real Communists in Canada but they do not appear in this story.

There are certain other allusions in the book that perhaps call for a word of explanation. Some of these are of a historical character. Anyone who has visited Quebec will be familiar with the name Lévis, that of the famous marshal, François Duc de Lévis, who surrendered Canada to the British in the eighteenth century. This will explain the appellation Lévis Guard, applied to the guard of honour at Saint-Joseph’s, the function of which is to usher in church and parade on state occasions. There is also Henri Bourassa, most famous of French-Canadian nationalist leaders, who is mentioned in passing, and there is the seventeenth-century Jean Talon, greatest of the French governors. If one adds the name of Father Antoine François-Xavier Labelle, late-nineteenth-century priest and statesman noted for his colonizing activities, the list of historical personages will be complete so far as the reader of the present story is concerned.

Among contemporary figures may be noted Bolduc, famous for her rendition of Canadian folk songs, and Henri Deglane, champion wrestler of the early 1930s. Pamphile Lemay, Joseph Boucher’s literary idol, was a romantic nineteenth-century French-Canadian poet who imitated Lamartine.

A word should perhaps be said regarding certain nicknames that depend wholly upon sound-connotation for their effect. “Barloute,” for example, is commonly applied to all women of Feda’s sort; little, active, boastful men are known as “Tit-Blanc” (the “Tit-” being an abbreviation for petit); while individuals who are physically strong and inclined to be braggarts are called “Pitou.” None of these names has any special origin.

In connection with the wrestling match, it may be observed that Canadian wrestling is more or less a free-for-all, marked by a use of fists and feet that is not permitted in the United States. As a result, it is rather a bloody affair.

While these preliminary explanations may be helpful, the reader will soon enough become so absorbed in the strange new world into which he is plunged from the opening pages of this fascinating tale that he will feel no need of guideposts.

Throughout this translation I have had the advantage of the author’s kind and helpful advice on all doubtful points. The task has been a difficult one, owing not alone to the peculiarities of Canadian French and the abundance of local argot but also to the frequent psychological subtleties of the narrative. At the same time it has been an experience so rewarding that I can think of only one other with which to compare it; that of translating Jean Cocteau’s Les Enfants Terribles, some eighteen years ago. Both books hold all the pathos of adolescence; both are poetic, dramatic, and alive. Each in its own way (for they are of course very different after all) is heartbreakingly beautiful, yet has about it the ineffaceable glow of mourning and of youth.