In Translation: The Gabrielle Roy-Joyce Marshall Correspondence 9781442627437

Table of contents :
Contents
Acknowledgments
Introduction
The Letters
Dear Joyce Marshall
Dear Gabrielle,
Appendices
Appendix A: ‘Grandmother and the Doll’
Appendix B: La rivière sans repos
Appendix C: Windflower
Appendix D: The Hidden Mountain
Appendix E: Enchanted Summer
Bibliography
Index

Citation preview

IN TRAN SLAT IO N: T H E G A B R I E L L E R O Y – J O YC E M A R S H A L L C O R R E S P O ND E N C E

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In Translation  The Gabrielle Roy – Joyce Marshall Correspondence

Edited by Jane Everett

U N I V E R S I T Y O F TO R ON TO P RE S S Toronto Buffalo London

The letters are published with permission of the copyright owners. Letters by Gabrielle Roy © Fonds Gabrielle Roy 2005 Letters by Joyce Marshall © Joyce Marshall 2005 Introduction and editor’s annotations © Jane Everett 2005 Toronto Buffalo London Printed in Canada ISBN 0-8020-3908-1

Printed on acid-free paper

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication Roy, Gabrielle, 1909–1983. In translation : the Gabrielle Roy–Joyce Marshall correspondence / edited by Jane Everett. Includes index. ISBN 0-8020-3908-1 1. Roy, Gabrielle, 1909–1983 – Correspondence. 2. Marshall, Joyce, 1913– – Correspondence. 3. Novelists, Canadian (French) – 20th century – Correspondence. 4. Authors, Canadian (English) – 20th century – Correspondence. I. Marshall, Joyce, 1913– II. Everett, Jane, 1954– III. Title. PS8535.O95Z49 2005

C843’.54

C2004-905041-9

University of Toronto Press acknowledges the financial assistance to its publishing program of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council. This book has been published with the help of a grant from the Canadian Federation for the Humanities and Social Sciences, through the Aid to Scholarly Publications Programme, using funds provided by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada. University of Toronto Press acknowledges the financial support for its publishing activities of the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program (BPIDP).

To my family

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Contents



Acknowledgments

ix

Introduction

xi

The Letters

1

Appendices

235

Appendix A: ‘Grandmother and the Doll’ Appendix B: La rivière sans repos

239

Appendix C: Windflower 242 Appendix D: The Hidden Mountain 247 Appendix E: Enchanted Summer Bibliography Index

263

253

249

237

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Acknowledgments



I would like to thank Joyce Marshall for her unflagging commitment to this project, for her invaluable editing advice, and for the many pages of notes and answers to questions that she provided. I thank her, as well as the Fonds Gabrielle Roy, for permission to reproduce this correspondence. I cannot adequately express my gratitude to my colleague François Ricard, whose friendship, support, and good counsel have sustained me through the years. The members of the Groupe de recherche sur Gabrielle Roy have also made my task easier; my thanks in particular to Sophie Marcotte for much footnote-related research, to Dominique Fortier for her work on the index, and to Nathalie Cooke for her thoughtful comments. I owe a debt of gratitude as well to the personnel of Library and Archives Canada and of the Eastern Townships Research Centre at Bishop’s University, who greatly facilitated my consultation of the Roy and Marshall collections, respectively. I am also indebted to Siobhan McMenemy, Barbara Tessman, and Andy Carroll, at the University of Toronto Press, who patiently answered my questions and proposed elegant solutions to knotty formatting problems. Finally, I wish to acknowledge the financial support of the Faculty of Arts of McGill University, the Fonds québécois de la recherche sur la société et la culture, and the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada.

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Introduction



I just thought: almost any of your letters to me would be as good an introduction as one can imagine. You just have to let yourself go and it pours out beautifully, truthfully and with a singular grace. Oh my, why should you be afraid! But then, this fear goes with real talent, always, I think. Gabrielle Roy to Joyce Marshall, 30 April 1975

In early 1959, Joyce Marshall wrote to Gabrielle Roy,1 asking her if she would agree to be interviewed for the Tamarack Review, a literary quarterly to which Marshall occasionally contributed. Marshall was planning to visit Quebec City, where Roy resided, later in the year; a meeting could be arranged. Roy, who rarely granted interviews, declined (see the first letter in this volume). The two writers already knew each other by reputation: Marshall had read Roy’s first novel, Bonheur d’occasion,2 shortly after it was published in 1945, and Roy, as she mentions in the first letter of this collection, had read Marshall’s first novel, Presently Tomorrow, published in 1946. When Marshall eventually visited Quebec City (in the late spring of 1959), a mutual friend, Madeleine Chassé, arranged for the three women to have lunch in a little restaurant on the ground floor of the Château Saint-Louis, the apartment building where Roy and her husband, Dr Marcel Carbotte, lived. ‘I’ve never forgotten G’s beautiful welcoming face as she crossed

1 This letter has not been found. 2 For complete bibliographic information, see the ‘Works by Joyce Marshall’ and ‘Works by Gabrielle Roy’ sections in the bibliography.

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the room towards us,’ recalls Joyce Marshall. ‘I knew in that instant that we were friends.’3 Gabrielle Roy’s second letter (dated 15 June 1959), written after that first meeting, suggests that the feeling was mutual. The personal relationship was shortly to become a professional one as well, when Robert ‘Bob’ Weaver, a prominent figure in the EnglishCanadian literary scene, asked Roy to submit a story to be read as part of a series for CBC Radio’s Wednesday Night literary program and then arranged for Joyce Marshall to translate it. The story, ‘Grandmother and the Doll,’ was read on Wednesday Night in 1960, then published in the October 1960 issue of Chatelaine. The French original, ‘Grand-mère et la poupée,’ appeared the same month in the inaugural Frenchlanguage issue of the magazine.4 This story was later expanded to become ‘Ma grand-mère toute-puissante,’ the first of the narratives that make up La route d’Altamont (1966). When Roy’s Canadian publisher, Jack McClelland, was looking for someone to translate the book, Roy suggested Marshall’s name. That translation, The Road Past Altamont, appeared the same year as the original. Marshall went on to translate two other books by Roy, La rivière sans repos (1970) and Cet été qui chantait (1972).5 In 1975, Marshall decided to stop being Roy’s ‘official’ translator, ‘having grown weary,’ as she notes in an essay written in 1988, ‘of scraping my mind raw over thoughts that weren’t mine.’6 While regretting the end of the partnership, Roy supported her in this decision;7 it had no effect on their relationship, which continued warm and caring to the end. Though only four years separated them – Gabrielle Roy was born in early 1909, Joyce Marshall in late 1913 – the two women were not quite of the same generation, Roy having reached the age of reason during

3 Joyce Marshall, letter to Jane Everett, 14 September 2001. 4 Gabrielle Roy’s ‘Grandmother and the Doll’ was also published in the collection Ten for Wednesday Night: A Collection of Short Stories Presented for Broadcast by CBC Wednesday Night, ed. Robert Weaver (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1961), 142–55. 5 Roy’s La rivière sans repos, a volume comprising a novel – La rivière sans repos – preceded by three short stories known as the ‘Nouvelles esquimaudes’ (‘Eskimo Tales’), was published in 1970; Windflower, Marshall’s translation of the novel, was published in the same year. Roy’s Cet été qui chantait was translated by Marshall as Enchanted Summer; it was published in 1976. 6 Joyce Marshall, ‘The Writer as Translator: A Personal View,’ Canadian Literature 117 (Summer 1988): 26. 7 See letter from Gabrielle Roy to Joyce Marshall, 26 March 1976.

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the Great War, and Marshall being very much a child of the post-war era.8 They also came from very different backgrounds. A native of Montreal, Marshall was the eldest of five children. She received her primary and secondary education at Roslyn School and Westmount High School in that city and at St Helen’s, a private girls’ boarding school in Quebec’s Eastern Townships. She completed her formal education with an Honours BA in English from Montreal’s McGill University in 1935. Like all children educated in the Protestant school system at the time, she studied French from Grade 3 onwards. Though she did not have occasion to use it on a day-to-day basis, she had a natural ability for the language and chose to study it for two years at McGill. She also read a great deal in French, and as a senior editor – the first woman to hold such a post – for the McGill Daily, she reviewed French films from time to time. Gabrielle Roy, on the other hand, was a native of St Boniface, Manitoba, and the youngest of eight children. Like most French-speaking Manitobans of her generation, she had been educated in Catholic schools at a time when English was the required language of instruction for most subjects. Her subsequent teacher training at the Provincial Normal School in Winnipeg was in English, and she taught for the most part in that language. She studied English literature in high school and came to know it very well. Their writing careers also followed different paths. Joyce Marshall decided to be a writer at a very early age9 and was winning literary prizes while still in school. At McGill, she contributed to all the campus literary magazines; her poetry was so well known, in fact, that it was occasionally the subject of parodies.10 She left Montreal for 8 Marshall was very aware of this and notes that, in her relationship with Roy, she always had a sense of dealing with a woman much older than she (Joyce Marshall, telephone conversation with Jane Everett, 11 September 2002). For more information on Joyce Marshall’s life and career, see Ken McLean, ‘Joyce Marshall,’ in Profiles in Canadian Literature 7, ed. J.M. Heath (Toronto: Dundurn Press, 1991), 87–94; W.H. New, ‘Joyce Marshall,’ in Dictionary of Literary Biography, ed. W.H. New, vol. 88, Canadian Writers, 1920–1959, Second Series (Detroit, MI: Gale Research, 1989), 197–205; and Jane Everett, ‘Joyce Marshall, the Accidental Translator,’ in Writing Between the Lines: Portraits of Anglophone Canadian Literary Translators, ed. A. Whitfield (Waterloo, ON: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, forthcoming). For more information on Gabrielle Roy’s life and career, see François Ricard, Gabrielle Roy: A Life, trans. Patricia Claxton (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1996). 9 ‘I was inspired to become a writer by Peter Rabbit which my grandfather read to me when I was about 3.’ (Joyce Marshall, letter to Jane Everett, 14 September 2001.) 10 Joyce Marshall, telephone conversation with Jane Everett, 6 January 2004.

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Toronto in 1937, because she did not find the political and social atmosphere of Quebec congenial, and because she felt that it was important for writers to experience other places; Toronto was as far away as she could afford. Coincidentally, Roy also left home in 1937, for similar reasons: the need to distance herself from a milieu in which she felt culturally and socially marginalized and where it would have been difficult to realize her aesthetic ambitions. Unlike Marshall, Roy had not yet decided on a writing career when she left St Boniface. She had had childhood yearnings in that direction and had published a handful of short stories in French and in English during the 1930s, but she was also very much attracted by the theatre. Her first career was as a teacher, however, because she was obliged to help support her family financially. She started teaching in 1929 and by 1937 had set aside sufficient money to be able to quit her job and fulfil a long-held dream of travelling to Europe. She lived first in France, then in England, studying drama in both Paris and London. It was during a stay in Upshire, England, that she realized that she wished above all things to be a writer. She left Europe in April 1939 and settled in Montreal, where she began her professional writing career – initially as a journalist. The success of Bonheur d’occasion, published in 1945 in French, and shortly thereafter in English,11 allowed her to devote herself completely to her writing. By 1960 she had written several other novels (La Petite Poule d’Eau, 1950; Alexandre Chenevert, 1954; Rue Deschambault, 1955), all of which were translated by Harry Binsse,12 and all of which met with a more mixed critical reception than her first novel. Thanks to the translations of her books, Roy was almost as well known to English Canadians as to the French-speaking public. In 1959, when she and Joyce Marshall met, Roy was finishing La montagne secrète, which was published in 1961 (Harry Binsse’s translation, The Hidden Mountain, came out the following year). Marshall, by that time, was earning her living entirely through writing and freelance editing (though she rarely enjoyed financial security, then or later). She had published a second novel, Lovers and Strangers, which 11 Roy’s Bonheur d’occasion was translated by Hannah Josephson as The Tin Flute, published in 1947. A retranslation, by Alan Brown, was published in 1980. 12 Roy’s La Petite Poule d’Eau, Alexandre Chenevert, and Rue Deschambault were translated by Harry Binsse as Where Nests the Water Hen, The Cashier, and Street of Riches respectively.

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like the first had attracted critical notice in both Canada and the United States, and a number of poems and short stories, some of which had been read on CBC Radio or published in literary magazines. As first reader for CBC Radio’s Anthology program from 1954 to 1980, working with Bob Weaver, she came into contact with the texts of many new and established writers. She was active in the Toronto literary milieu and was interested in the development and promotion of Canadian literature in French and in English. At the time, her work was known primarily in English-speaking Canada. Unlike Marshall, Gabrielle Roy did not participate actively in the literary life of Quebec or of English Canada, although she cultivated close relationships with those who did. In fact, Joyce Marshall was to become a privileged intermediary between Roy and various people – publishers, producers for television and radio programs, academics, and journalists, for the most part – working within the EnglishCanadian cultural establishment. As the letters indicate, Marshall also introduced Roy to the works of a number of Canadian writers, such as Alice Munro, Margaret Atwood, Margaret Laurence, and Ethel Wilson, and was the means by which Roy entered into a correspondence with both Laurence and Wilson. In the course of the two decades covered by the correspondence – the 1960s and the 1970s – Canadian literature (in English and in French) came into its own. Valued as an expression of national identity, it also began to acquire increased critical legitimacy, not only in the eyes of the academic community, but also in those of the publishing world. The same can be said of writing by women and other hitherto marginalized groups, and of certain genres, such as the short story, which had been long undervalued. These changes, along with many others, resulted in the further development and professionalization of the various sectors associated with the production, distribution, promotion, and recognition of Canadian literature. Both Joyce Marshall and Gabrielle Roy would benefit from this evolution, especially during the 1970s. In the 1960s, Joyce Marshall was doing a great deal of freelance editing and had begun her career as a translator, not only of Roy’s books, but of other writers’ work as well.13 Most important among the latter, 13 For example, Eugène Cloutier, No Passport: A Discovery of Canada (1968), Marshall’s translation of Le Canada sans passeport: Regard libre sur un pays en quête de sa réalité (1967).

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perhaps, is her editing and translation of the selected letters of Mère Marie de l’Incarnation, which are recognized as a valuable contribution to the social history of New France.14 As Marshall herself has noted, her own writing was going through a fallow period at the time; translating provided her with a unique opportunity to explore the English language thoroughly.15 For Gabrielle Roy, the 1960s were a decade of ‘reduced’ productivity and relative critical oblivion; her writing and her themes were judged old-fashioned and out of touch with certain aspects of contemporary Quebec society – its nationalist aspirations, for example, and the formal experimentation being carried out by a number of influential writers – a view echoed to some extent by English-Canadian critics. The 1970s were a decade of extraordinary activity and greater official and critical recognition for both Marshall and Roy. During this period, Marshall assembled a collection of her short stories, published in 1975 under the title A Private Place; a number of stories were published in various literary magazines or broadcast on CBC Radio. More and more anthologies destined for the general public or for the academic market included stories by Joyce Marshall.16 She was much in demand for readings in schools and universities, contributed articles to dictionaries of literary biography, edited and reviewed books, evaluated manuscripts, and sat on juries for literary prizes. By the middle of the decade, she had acquired an excellent reputation as a translator, a reputation that was consolidated when Enchanted Summer, her translation of Roy’s Cet été qui chantait, won the 1976 Canada Council Translation Prize17 for French to English translation. She also wrote reviews of

14 Marie de l’Incarnation, Word from New France: The Selected Letters of Marie de l’Incarnation (1967). In his Literary History of Canada: Canadian Literature in English, Carl F. Klinck notes: ‘On the social history of New France, striking new evidence was offered in Word from New France: The Selected Letters of Marie de l’Incarnation (1967), translated and introduced by Joyce Marshall. As well as presenting a varied picture of life in the colony between 1639 and 1672, it gave a powerful sense of the religious impulses of the time’ (2d ed., vol. 3 [Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1976], 75). 15 Joyce Marshall, ‘Gabrielle Roy, 1909–1983: Some Reminiscences,’ Canadian Literature 101 (Summer 1984): 184. 16 For details, see Ken McLean, ‘Joyce Marshall,’ 87–94. 17 Now the Governor General’s Award for Translation. Marshall also translated two other books in that decade: Gérard Pelletier’s The October Crisis (1976), originally La crise d’Octobre (1971), and Thérèse Casgrain’s A Woman in a Man’s World (1972), originally Une femme chez les hommes (1971).

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translations and evaluated translated manuscripts. She continued to be an active and committed member of the literary community (within the Writers’ Union of Canada in particular) and was one of the founding members of the Literary Translators’ Association of Canada (1975). Her appointment, at the end of the decade, to the post of writer-inresidence (1980–1) at Trent University in Peterborough, Ontario, can be seen as confirmation of the increased recognition she enjoyed as a writer, activist, teacher, and translator. The same period saw a renewal of interest in Gabrielle Roy’s work, due in part to a long-overdue critical re-evaluation that focused as much on her use of language and the prose form as on her themes. Her published works were by that time being widely anthologized and studied. In 1970 she published La rivière sans repos, and, two years later, the elegiac Cet été qui chantait. These were followed in 1975 by Un jardin au bout du monde, a collection of four short stories, and in 1977 by Ces enfants de ma vie, which won the 1977 Governor General’s Award for French-language fiction. Two children’s books, Ma vache Bossie and Courte-Queue, appeared in 1976 and 1979 respectively. Finally, a collection of essays and non-fiction prose, Fragiles lumières de la terre, was published in 1978.18 By late 1980, Gabrielle Roy had finished her revisions to the manuscript of what was to become her posthumous autobiography, La détresse et l’enchantement.19 The last letters she exchanged with Marshall date from the autumn of that year; during the three remaining years of her life – marked by increasingly bad health and a resulting loss of energy and the ability to concentrate20 – the two women kept in touch by telephone. Only one more work by Roy, the novella De quoi t’ennuiestu, Éveline? (1982), would appear before her death. Since then, a number of posthumous books have been published, notably her autobiographical writings and her letters to her sister, Bernadette, and

18 Roy’s Un jardin au bout du monde, Ma vache Bossie, Ces enfants de ma vie, Fragiles lumières de la terre: Écrits divers 1942–1970, and Courte-Queue were translated by Alan Brown as Garden in the Wind, My Cow Bossie, Children of My Heart, The Fragile Lights of Earth: Articles and Memories, 1942–1970, and Cliptail respectively. 19 Roy’s La détresse et l’enchantement was translated by Patricia Claxton as Enchantment and Sorrow. 20 See François Ricard, Gabrielle Roy: A Life, 486–9.

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to her husband.21 Her work continues to engage and fascinate scholars and the general reading public alike. Since 1980, Joyce Marshall has continued to do freelance work and to write and publish stories in magazines. She was writer-in-library at Vaughan (just north of Toronto) in 1991, and she published a volume of short stories, Any Time At All and Other Stories, in 1993. Blood and Bone / En chair et en os, a collection of her stories translated into French by colleagues wishing to express their respect and admiration for her work both as a writer and translator, appeared in 1995. The same year, Bishop’s University, where her manuscripts and correspondence are kept, conferred on her the honorary degree of Doctor of Civil Law. Joyce Marshall has been the subject of articles and entries in many journals and literary histories; any discussion of Canadian writing, and of the Canadian short story in particular, is incomplete without reference to her work. The correspondence between Gabrielle Roy and Joyce Marshall covers a range of topics, from the personal to the universal. Although discreet on the subject of their most intimate relationships,22 Marshall and Roy keep each other informed of their general health and well-being and freely exchange news about their families and mutual friends. These accounts involve the usual human events: visits received and made; fallings-out and reconciliations; marriages and divorces; accidents, illnesses, and deaths. The two speak about the weather, their surroundings, and their travels, they describe comical incidents in their lives and strange encounters, and they comment on interesting books read or television programs viewed. An anecdote or a piece of news can serve as a springboard to more general observations or questions about human experience – the nature of depression, for example, or the importance of having a purpose in life, the social habits of English-

21 Roy’s autobiographical writings include Le temps qui m’a manqué, suite de La détresse et l’enchantement, edited by François Ricard, Dominique Fortier, and Jane Everett; and ‘Le pays de Bonheur d’occasion’ et autres récits autobiographiques épars et inédits, edited by François Ricard, Sophie Marcotte, and Jane Everett. Roy’s correspondence includes Ma chère petite soeur: Lettres à Bernadette, 1943–1970, edited by François Ricard and translated by Patricia Claxton as Letters to Bernadette; and Mon cher grand fou ... Lettres à Marcel Carbotte 1947–1979, edited by Sophie Marcotte, in collaboration with François Ricard and Jane Everett. Roy’s posthumous Contes pour enfants is a book for children. 22 This was not the case when they saw each other in person (Joyce Marshall, telephone conversation with Jane Everett, 29 September 2001).

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Canadian tourists in Florida or the effect of the influx of hippies on small Provençal towns in the late 1960s. Many of the letters recall key moments of the social and political history of Quebec and Canada in the 1960s and 1970s: Expo 67; the October Crisis; changes to health insurance policy, affecting doctors such as Marcel Carbotte, Roy’s husband; postal strikes; the rise to power of the Parti Québécois; language legislation; the 1980 referendum on Quebec sovereignty. Roy and Marshall also talk about personal professional concerns, both individual and shared. Though they mention from time to time the satisfactions, joys, and anguish that accompany their métier, they do not say much about their writing itself.23 On the other hand, the state of literary criticism and publishing in Canada and Quebec, and the caprices, vagaries, and unreasonableness of editors, publishers, and literary critics form the subject of many passages dealing either with their own work, or with the translations Marshall was doing for Roy. On the subject of their dealings with editors, publishers, and critics and their opinions of fellow writers, the letters reveal that while Marshall and Roy considered some individuals to be incompetent or unworthy, they also felt great affection, respect, and concern for others – such as publisher Jack McClelland and writers Ethel Wilson and Margaret Laurence. One of the unusual aspects of this correspondence is the periodic discussion of lexical, stylistic, and editorial problems encountered during the translation process, which Roy followed closely.24 After having read and reread the French original, Marshall would produce several drafts of the translation, occasionally writing or telephoning Roy to

23 ‘G. never wrote about her writing though I wrote about mine (very unusual for me),’ notes Marshall, adding however that ‘G. talked about hers in person. She told me the story of Christine [“Le vieillard et l’enfant,” in La route d’Altamont] going to the lake with the old man (which was more melancholy in her 1st version), the Garden story [“Un jardin au bout du monde” in the collection of the same title] and several of the episodes from Ces enfants [de ma vie]’ (Joyce Marshall, letter to Jane Everett, 26 September 2001). 24 Marshall has described this process and the way the two women worked together in several articles. See Joyce Marshall, ‘Gabrielle Roy 1909–1983,’ Antigonish Review 55 (Autumn 1983): 35–46; ‘Gabrielle Roy, 1909–1983: Some Reminiscences,’ 183–4; ‘The Writer as Translator: A Personal View,’ 25–9; ‘Remembering Gabrielle Roy,’ Brick 39 (Summer 1990): 58–62; and her introduction to ‘Between Writers: From a Correspondence,’ by Joyce Marshall and Gabrielle Roy, Brick 73 (Summer 2004): 81–2.

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inquire about the meaning of certain words or passages or to point out inconsistencies in the French original; Roy would respond with clarifications and/or corrections. When a reasonably finished draft of the translation was ready, the two women would meet for several days of intensive study and revision of the text, after which there would be further correspondence (and telephone calls) regarding last-minute changes to the original or to the translation, choice of titles, correction of proofs, and finally, the book’s reception by critics and readers. It is clear from the correspondence that Gabrielle Roy thought very highly of Joyce Marshall’s rendering of her prose. She speaks of its clarity, its smoothness, and says it is superb; however, she never explicitly defines these terms – at any rate, not in the correspondence. Scattered remarks, however, suggest that for her, a successful translation was (at least in part) a stylistic reconstitution of the original, and a good translator was one who paid particular attention to sentence rhythm and to the expressive values of the words Roy considered most important in a sentence. Marshall notes that she found the bouts of intensive discussion in person ‘a stimulating but exhausting business. I was made to turn the meaning and connotation of words (not to say my own head) up and down and sideways as I’d never had to do before. Some rare old rows took place. Gabrielle’s knowledge of English grammar was no longer as complete as she believed it was and she sometimes considered me exigeante (fussy) in my insistence on strict English word-order and usage.’25 Although the correspondence carries few, if any, explicit traces of the ‘rows’ Marshall refers to, Roy’s letters do bear out Marshall’s comment regarding her relative mastery of English grammar, syntax, and idiom. Roy writes easily, and with apparent confidence (for the most part), but she does make errors, and even when her English is technically correct, it is not always idiomatic. Some errors are clearly due to the influence of French spelling – such as ‘mentionned,’ ‘dictionnary,’ ‘personnally,’ ‘effet’ (for ‘effect’) – and French usage – she sometimes uses adjectives as nouns (‘my sick’ or ‘the mediocres,’ modelled on the French ‘mes malades,’ ‘les médiocres’) and she often forgets to capitalize the names of months and the days of the week, adjectives derived from the names of 25 Joyce Marshall, ‘Gabrielle Roy, 1909–1983,’ 44. She continues: ‘I, on the other hand, benefited by her excellent ear, her sense of the nuances and subtleties as well as the sound and rhythm of language. I owe her a great deal as a writer and translator.’

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nationalities, and words such as Street, River, or City used in addresses or place names. She always spells ‘worthwhile’ and ‘humdrum’ as two words, and almost always uses the old-fashioned hyphenated forms of ‘tomorrow,’ ‘today,’ and ‘together.’ With respect to grammar and syntax, she sometimes makes mistakes in the use of tense (‘shall’ instead of ‘should,’ ‘send’ instead of ‘sent’), or the use of the possessive (‘the Wilson’s books’ instead of ‘Wilson’s books’ or ‘the Wilson books’). Occasionally, she will make an error in verb agreement (‘give’ instead of ‘gives,’ for example) and she sometimes has trouble with the prepositions of English phrasal verbs (e.g., ‘let in’ instead of ‘let on,’ to take something ‘at heart’ instead of ‘to heart’). She consistently writes ‘at lost’ in the place of ‘at a loss’ and ‘meantime’ in the place of ‘meanwhile’ or ‘in the meantime.’ These are examples of some of the more frequent lapses; there are others, which it would be both tedious and redundant to enumerate here. In any event, none of these errors or slips interferes with our understanding of the text. In papers presented at conferences, I have made some attempts at analysing this correspondence; I have not done so here, partly because I am reluctant to suggest ways of reading the text when my own interpretation of the letters is still evolving, but also because any conclusions arrived at would risk being partial and subject to revision. ‘We talked about very different things,’ says Marshall, ‘so that the letters give a false impression of our friendship – wildflowers, birds, the history of the English language, language in general and of course trivialities, personalities, etc.’26 Letters are singular, although they do often form part of an ongoing exchange. When they are collected and published, they become a ‘correspondence’ and acquire a stability and a type of unity that were not present before. Moreover, the unity and coherence that were originally a product of the interplay between the letters and the writers’ shared experiences are necessarily missing, a loss that can never be completely compensated for by introductory and explanatory material. However, although this correspondence cannot provide a complete portrait of Joyce Marshall’s and Gabrielle Roy’s personal and professional relationship, the letters do offer thought-provoking glimpses of this partnership, as well as of the creative process and of

26 Joyce Marshall, letter to Jane Everett, 26 September 2001.

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the writerly life more generally, with its mix of day-to-day concerns and aesthetic preoccupations, all of which invite reflection, if not, for the moment, interpretation. A Note on the Letters and on Editorial Choices The Gabrielle Roy – Joyce Marshall correspondence consists of 208 letters, 99 written by Joyce Marshall and the remaining 109 by Gabrielle Roy. All but two of Marshall’s letters to Roy are contained in the Gabrielle Roy fonds, Library and Archives Canada (Ottawa);27 carbon copies of the remaining two as well as the letters Gabrielle wrote to Joyce are included in the Joyce Marshall Papers, which are kept at the Eastern Townships Research Centre at Bishop’s University in Lennoxville, Quebec.28 The correspondence covers a period of twenty-one years, from 1959 to 1980, with a gap of about six years, from 1961 to 1967. From 1961 to 1963, Joyce Marshall was in Europe, and while there, she destroyed all the correspondence she received, a practice she continued for several years after her return. (The gap coincides with the period when she was translating La route d’Altamont. There are no letters tracking this process, not because Marshall discarded them but because none were written, the two writers meeting to discuss the translation as soon as Marshall had finished it.) The correspondence is written entirely in English, except for a few sentences in one of Roy’s notes and the odd salutation. All but three or four of Marshall’s letters are typed; there are occasional handwritten corrections and comments in the margins or between the lines. Roy wrote all of her letters to Marshall by hand; her clear schoolteacher’s script becomes somewhat less legible with the passage of time. Her letters, like Marshall’s, contain few erasures or crossingsout. Marshall wrote from Toronto (except for one or two notes scribbled on trains, and her last two letters, written when she was writerin-residence at Trent University). Most of Roy’s letters are addressed either from her summer home in Petite-Rivière-Saint-François or from her permanent home in Quebec City. A few were written from places she had sought refuge in winter (New Smyrna and Hollywood,

27 Library and Archives Canada, Gabrielle Roy fonds LMS-0082, 1982-11/1986-11: 17 (9–12). 28 Eastern Townships Research Centre, Joyce Marshall fonds, PO47.

Introduction xxiii

Florida; Tourrettes-sur-Loup, Provence; Phoenix, Arizona) and from Manitoba, where family business took her on several occasions. This edition contains all the letters exchanged by Roy and Marshall, save for those that have been lost or discarded. A few sentences or parts of sentences have been omitted29 at the request of Joyce Marshall or the Fonds Gabrielle Roy, and two persons are identified by fictitious initials; I have also replaced with asterisks all telephone exchanges and, in one case, a street number; otherwise, the letters have been reproduced with minimal editorial intervention (to be explained shortly). Additions made by Roy or Marshall in the margins – parenthetical remarks, explanations, afterthoughts – whether in the form of sentences or sentence fragments, have been integrated without comment into the text where syntax, sentence flow, and meaning permit; otherwise, they follow the letter with an indication in italics and square brackets as to their original placement. The letters have been arranged in chronological order, according to the date on which they were written; this was not a difficult task given that Marshall and Roy almost always dated their letters and almost never wrote to each other on the same day. They did not always indicate the place they were writing from; when necessary, therefore, I have added this information in square brackets in the upper right-hand corner of the letters; I have also standardized the placement and spacing of the conventional elements of a letter – date, internal addresses (if any), salutation, body, complimentary close, and signature. For ease of reference, I have corrected without comment occasional misspellings of proper names, and I have standardized the presentation of French- and English-language titles (of stories, magazines, books, television programs, and so forth) with respect to the use of italics, quotation marks, and capital letters. All French words, apart from place names, proper names, and those used in titles, have been italicized. Words underlined for emphasis in the original have also been italicized; when an entire word was capitalized, I have left it as is. Except in the case of internal quotations, where double quotes are used, I have used single quotes throughout. I have not hesitated to insert, without comment, closing quotation marks or parentheses in the few places that these were overlooked. On four occasions, for the sake of clarity, I have added commas or a period, enclosed in square

29 These have been identified by suspension points enclosed in square brackets.

xxiv Introduction

brackets. Otherwise, I have not modified the original punctuation. I have refrained, for example, from adding question marks to interrogative sentences in Roy’s letters, as she used these very sparingly, both in French and in English. Early in the process of preparing this edition, I decided I could not ‘edit’ Marshall’s and Roy’s letters in quite the same way. Marshall makes no grammatical or spelling errors, and only the occasional typographical one. It seemed clear to me that these few slips, which were of no consequence, could be corrected without comment – and that is what I did. On the other hand, as noted earlier, Roy did make mistakes. I rejected outright the option of correcting without comment because I felt that in the case of this particular correspondence, to do so would be to misrepresent Roy’s idiosyncratic relationship to the English language and suppress a part of the implicit context of her discussions of translation problems in the letters. Any corrections I have made are therefore identified as such. In the case of mistakes obviously due to fatigue or illness or distraction, I have corrected the error either by inserting a missing letter or word in square brackets where this could be done, or by using the proper form in the text and giving the original in a footnote. Where absolutely necessary for comprehension, I have inserted missing elements (usually pronouns) in square brackets or proposed a rephrasing in a footnote. Four or five words were difficult to decipher; I have given a tentative reading for each and identified it as such in a footnote. I have otherwise chosen to ‘correct and comment’ as little as possible, grammatical lapses and non-idiomatic usage being difficult to treat in a consistent fashion (where does one draw the line?). In addition to critical footnotes dealing with errors and similar problems, I have provided explanatory notes. These identify persons, institutions, organizations, publications, and sources of quotations, and they explain allusions to current events or give the English translation of certain expressions or passages originally written in French. I have tried to keep them as succinct as possible. The appendices contain excerpts from the originals and the translations discussed in the letters. These fragments provide the context necessary for understanding the exchanges in question; the accompanying references will allow interested readers to locate the relevant passages in the works under discussion.

The Letters



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12 May 1959

3

[Quebec,] May 12, 1959 Dear Joyce Marshall,1 Of course I know your name and at least one of your novels – the second one2 somehow escaped my attention – Presently Tomorrow3 must have created quite an impression, for I remember it well, although I’ve read [it] quite a good time back.4 Some scenes are rendered with real craftsmanship. In this book you have dealt understandingly with one of the most difficult subjects, at least to me, the torments and bewilderment of youth. So I’m happy to congratulate you to day. But I’m not so happy about the idea of an interview5 even with such a person as you surely neither frightening nor casual. It’s just that interviews really disturb my mind and put me off. And now specially, and for quite some time to come,6 I need to keep my mind focussed on one point only. Can you understand? I’m sure you will and also feel that I should like, if at all possible, to cooperate with you and the Tamarack Review which is a fine review indeed. By the way, I do not live permanently at la Petite-Rivière-St-François. We7 merely have a little summer house there. It is on a road all right, although just gravel and fairly hilly. It’s also on the railroad, on the line Quebec–La Malbaie. This for your own information should you care one day to see a rather enchanting village.

1 Abbreviated as JM in the notes. Similarly, Gabrielle Roy is abbreviated as GR. References in the notes to letters from Marshall to Roy are given as JM–GR, followed by the date of the letter; references to letters from Roy to Marshall are given as GR–JM, followed by the date of the letter. 2 A reference to JM’s second novel, Lovers and Strangers, published in 1957. 3 JM’s first novel, published in 1946. 4 As noted in the introduction, GR’s English has been transcribed, for the most part, without comment or correction. 5 JM had written to GR saying that she would be visiting Quebec City and suggesting an interview for the Tamarack Review. The literary quarterly published articles and book reviews as well as short stories, poems, and excerpts from novels by Canadian writers (French texts were translated into English) from 1956 to 1982. Robert (‘Bob’) Weaver (b. 1921), one of its founders and editors, was an early admirer of GR’s work. 6 GR was working on her novel, La montagne secrète, published in 1961. 7 GR and her husband, Doctor Marcel Carbotte (1914–89). They bought the house in Petite-Rivière-Saint-François in Charlevoix County (north of Quebec City) in 1957.

4 16 June 1959

Again, I trust, you will understand my reasons for declining interviews – at least this coming summer. Yours sincerely Gabrielle Roy Carbotte 135 Grande Allée, west, apt. 708 Québec – P.Q.

 Quebec, June 16, 1959

Dear Joyce, I am glad to read and feel that I can now count you as a friend. For this is the way I too now look upon you; a very real human being upon whom I may draw and who has on me the same right. So, it is much better indeed that we should have met as we have, at least for the first time.8 I enjoyed every minute I spent with you. I hope it was the same for you. The only feeling that gnawed and somewhat spoiled our tranquil and happy times to-gether was a sort of regret – perhaps shame – that I should have refused an interview to so utterly a good and intelligent person such as you are. Of course, if you should feel that out of our brief meeting you can write something about me – if such should be your wish – I would like you to feel entirely free to do so. I do not say so to prompt you to do it. As a matter of fact, I hesitate to even suggest such a thing, for fear that it may look very presumptuous. But, on second thought, I feel that you are much too much a good judge of character not to have already drawn your own conclusions. Perhaps you have guessed or understood that the great pain in my life is the nearly constant feeling that I do not deserve much; certainly not half of the good things that came to me. Hence, a frequent withdrawal of which I suffer most. But enough of this. I shall add Niagara-on-the-Falls9 to my list of possible havens under the heading: Ontario. When I go, if I go, I shall 8 This first meeting was arranged by Madeleine Chassé and is described in the introduction. Madeleine Chassé (1901–2001) was a civil servant (and the sister-in-law of GR’s Quebec City landlady); she met GR in 1953 through the writer Cécile Chabot (1907–90). She was GR’s secretary until the early 1960s. 9 Niagara-on-the-Lake.

17 July 1959

5

very likely write you a note, perhaps stop in Toronto to see you. Something tells me that we shall meet again, perhaps often, and in my case, at least, with pleasure. Meantime, if you could and should like to join us for a while – several days perhaps – this summer at La Petite-Rivière both my husband and myself – Madeleine10 too, I know – we would be most pleased to welcome you. Gabrielle Thank you for the book which I am looking forward to receive in the next mail I presume.



Petite-Rivière-St-François, July 17, 1959. Dear Joyce, I have just finished reading Lovers and Strangers – what an apt title! I have enjoyed reading it – no, not perhaps enjoyed – this book provokes the reader too much, it is not, I think, to be just enjoyed, but examined deeply, leading the mind to examine itself. You have a sense of the pathetic, with which I agree so utterly. Life is so pathetic and specially that phenomenon: love, which is mixed up with so much hatred, as you so rightly express. Altogether a very mature, intelligent book. Perhaps led too much, if you know what I mean. Yet so sensitive at almost every turn of the page. There is much more that I would like to say about this book. But I usually like to let my impressions of a book ripen slowly, at leisure – So many truths come to life, of their own accord, when you don’t seek deliberately for them. I was very sorry to hear of your attack of flu. You did look a little tired when in Quebec. I hope that you are now fully recovered. Yes, of course, any other summer, if you should feel free to visit us at la PetiteRivière and should we be there ourselves, we would welcome you with pleasure and pride. Do look after yourself, do not drive you too much – Both

10 Madeleine Chassé.

6 11 July 1960

Madeleines11 were here a few days ago, your name and person came up, to join us; it was pleasant and very friendly.



Mon meilleur souvenir Gabrielle

Petite-Rivière-St-François July 11, 1960 Dear Joyce, Your work is that of genius – almost. Such patience, such tender care and delicate handling of this little story.12 Later when less in a hurry to send you letter and story, I shall tell you, leisurely, I hope, how I admire your translation. As for the title, I can’t think of anything but ‘My Grandmother God’ which, I suppose, sounds rather fantastic. Would you have an idea? Let me know, if you do. I’m afraid it’s rather hard for us to communicate, while I’m here, at La Petite Rivière. 1) ‘mis du bois dans les roues,’13 is indeed to put a spoke in the wheels, but I feel now that you understand Mémère almost better than I did for I think I prefer your version of this passage. So let’s keep it like this. I’ve just finished reading the story to Marcel,14 and he has come out with perhaps a brilliant suggestion for a title: ‘Almighty Mémère’ page 8. perhaps something like this; ‘waved it with her curling-iron warmed over the lamp’ – This is the idea. You might be able to word it more deftly. 11 Madeleine Chassé and Madeleine Bergeron (1916–99), referred to collectively as ‘les Madeleine’ (‘the Madeleines’). GR met Bergeron through Cécile Chabot in 1953. 12 ‘Grandmother and the Doll,’ JM’s translation of ‘Grand-mère et la poupée’ (see the introduction for details). The characters mentioned in this letter are the narrator’s grandmother (Mémère) and grandfather (François). 13 The passages discussed in this and the following letter appear in the published French and English versions; see appendix A. 14 GR’s husband, Marcel Carbotte. References to people by their first names only will not be footnoted from this point onward, as the index lists all first names used alone and refers the reader to the appropriate full name entry. An exception will be made when the reference constitutes the first mention of a person.

12 July 1960

7

page 12. to avoid repetition of seemed – although not unpleasant – perhaps, the phrase could run like this: ... ‘happiness that was too piercing ... etc.’ page 14. It might be preferable to state here that François is dead, for that is the idea, of course. Excuse the scribbling, dear Joyce, I’m writing this in a crazy haste, so that you may get the manuscript in time. page 14. You’re right about Mémère’s idea on God – She is adding him to the list of those who have offended her, but does not mean indeed that he has deserted her. If the passage doesn’t seem clear enough to you, put in an explanation of your own – a few words – I would be afraid to spoil your wonderful rhythm. Thank you again, dear Joyce, I’m hurrying to put all this in the mail to-night. By the way, excuse me for asking, but, in such a case, what is customary, who pays you your fee. Does Chatelaine? Or C.B.C. Or do I? As I am thoroughly ignorant of usage in this matter, will you very kindly tell me. My warm wishes Gabrielle Choose whichever title you think best – ‘Almighty Mémère’ is good is it not? Or, if you have a good idea, let me know.



Petite Rivière-St-François July 12, 1960

Dear Joyce, In my hurry, last night, I didn’t notice the overleaf post-script of your letter. So please excuse my enquiries as to who should pay your fee. In any case, I feel deeply indebted to you for such miraculous work. I thought about Mémère’s scoldings – page before last – including God. Perhaps she might speak something like this – ‘And God too – for He too in many ways, has forgotten me’ – Do what you like around this.

8 19 July 1960

Could you not come to see us this month? Our flowers? Our river? If not, don’t fail to pay us your autumn visit. I’m looking forward to it. Will you kindly ring up Jack McClelland15 and tell him to ignore my last letter asking about the translation, and which I sent him first before receiving yours. Also tell him, please, that I am more than satisfied with your work, in fact, I’m enchanted.



Best wishes Gabrielle.

Petite-Rivière-St-François July 19th 1960 Dear Joyce, Come by all means; we shall be delighted to have you. I should warn you, though, I suppose, that our quarters are far from luxurious. We have long planned to build an extra room, and have not been able to get it done, for lack of men around. However, we will manage quite well, I imagine. If you would just as soon come, starting August 1st, Marcel will be leaving and you could have his room. I plan to stay here for a bit in August. True, we wouldn’t have the car, but I think we can do quite well without it. But, if you have other plans for the first week in August, and prefer to come around the 25th of this month, come anyway, we have a good couch and can be quite comfortable to-gether. If you can, drop me a line to say when you are coming, so that we may pick you up at our funny little station. In the line of clothes, the rough kind is better for these parts, good strong shoes specially.



With our affectionate feelings Gabrielle.

15 Jack McClelland (1922–2004), head of the Toronto-based publishing house McClelland and Stewart, Inc., which published GR’s English-language translations.

15 August 1960

9

Quebec, August 15, 1960 Dear Joyce, It was so nice having you.16 I wish it had been for a longer time. Your little story of the small girl, her duck, the other children and the pail of water is perfectly adorable.17 Already, I have passed it around several times and rejoiced my listeners. I’m glad you found the painting over with in your apartment. Is it as hot now in Toronto? We had a cool week, after my return from ‘Petite’18 and then to-day it seems to be getting hot and humid again. Marcel and I went back to ‘Petite’ Saturday for the week-end, that is till Sunday night. Our flowers had progressed quite a lot, specially the gladioli nearly all out, now, some of a gorgeous color, bronze, purple, and flaming red. We brought back a huge armful of them for the apartment. Wish I could let you have some. Indeed I may go to Toronto one of these days. When, I don’t know just yet, but anyhow I hope to do so. I’m so glad that you now feel that you will probably be able to soon finish your novel. Towards the end, weary of having so long lived with an idea, one does feel stale, I know I nearly always do. But that may be a good sign. I certainly wish you the joy of attaining your goal – as nearly as this is ever possible. Both Madeleine have send us postcards from Ogunquit, and both seem enchanted with their holidays. ‘Petite’ seems to remember you well and hope that you will come again. With my happy ‘souvenir’ Gabrielle.

 16 JM spent a week at GR’s summer home in Petite-Rivière-Saint-François in early August 1960; it was her first visit there. 17 ‘I was killing time between trains in the tiny park near the Château [Frontenac, in Quebec City] when I saw a girl of 10 or 11 followed by a half-grown duckling. She had just sat down on a bench and placed the duck beside her when I saw a younger girl and boy struggling through traffic with a large pail of water. This they deposited in front of the proprietor of the duck who placed her pet in it where it splashed happily.’ (JM, letter to Jane Everett, 23 October 2000.) 18 This was JM’s Toronto ticket-seller’s term for Petite-Rivière-Saint-François; it became a joke between GR and JM.

10

26 September 1960

Quebec, September 26, 1960

Dear Joyce,

I should have answered your good and useful letter a long time ago. Thank you so much for the information you have gathered for me, concerning the spelling of Sigurdsen,19 date of the reading of my short story,20 and so forth. I would indeed like to see you writing a story about or around ‘Petite’, in other words see this setting throughout your own vision. I am really happy to know that you are pursuing your next novel. All will be well, I feel. We haven’t been going much to Petite lately, just for a half day occasionally. Soon, no doubt, we will have to close the place, board up the doors and windows, a job which I always find disheartening. But the house will have pleasant memories to take with itself in her long winter sleep. It may be silly, it probably is, but I always feel that a house remembers people, some happily, as is your case.



Avec mon meilleur souvenir Gabrielle

Quebec, November 23, 1960

Dear Joyce, I wish to assure you that I wrote only what I could very truthfully write about you in my letter to the Council of Arts.21 Still, I know what you mean by that feeling: ‘Goodness, can that possibly be me?’ I have never read or heard a compliment about myself without experiencing something of a shock. I suppose that is another trait we have in common – a good one, very possibly. In any case, I now hope, as much as if it were for myself, that you will get a grant. I really don’t see how they can refuse it to you. If they do, I’ll be good and mad, to be sure. 19 The name of a character in La montagne secrète, which GR was finishing at the time. JM had read the manuscript while visiting GR at Petite-Rivière-Saint-François. 20 ‘Grandmother and the Doll’ was to be read on CBC Radio’s Wednesday Night program. 21 JM had applied for a Senior Arts Grant from the Canada Council for the Arts and had asked GR for a letter of reference. JM did get the grant and managed to make the money last two years. She flew from Canada to Copenhagen, Denmark, in July 1961, then moved to Lillehammer, Norway, in the fall of 1962. She returned to Canada by Norwegian freighter in October 1963.

23 November 1960 11

The reading of my story disappointed me some. To begin with, I would have so much preferred an English voice.22 This accent business distracts the attention, I feel, and seems to me absolutely meaningless. Still, people at large, may like it. I really don’t know. Perhaps my reaction may be one of personal dislikes. I am glad to report that The Mountain23 – and this, very simply, may be the title – as far as I’m concerned is now finished. That is – imperfect as it may be – I feel that I cannot do much more for it. Like a parent, a grown-up child, I suppose, however different it may be from the ideal child, I have to release it. By the way, I profited a great deal by your keen advice given last summer, and strengthened a weak part of the story. This being done led me of course to discover other weak spots which I likewise scaffolded. I rather like this part of the business. Now I feel somehow like a builder, reaching to this beam, giving it a prop, rushing to this corner, tightening a screw, hammering here, hammering there. At last, looking upward, downward, left and right, I feel that the place is safe. At least there are not great fissures, no bad holes. Somehow the place, the building – call it what you like – stands on its own. And the strange thing is that it does not now seem possible to tear it down, even if you should be the only one to know about this secret building – Do you understand what I mean? Still, I shall wait a bit longer to let people in. After all, it’s rather a good moment, the ‘thing’ being erected, to still feel free to alter a bit, the secret place being all yours yet. My, my, I see that I have led my comparisons through curious metamorphoses, from child to roof, from building to ‘thing’. I suppose I better leave it at that. My dear Joyce, I very sincerely wish you the best, and will be made happy by all good things coming your way



Gabrielle24

22 The person reading had a very strong French accent (JM, letter to Jane Everett, 31 August 2001). 23 GR is referring here to the French original, La montagne secrète. 24 There is a six-year gap between this letter and the next. Although GR and JM wrote to each other during this period, they did not save their letters.

12

8 February 1967

52 Rosehill Ave., Toronto 7 Feb. 8, 1967 Dear Gabrielle, Many thanks for the information about the quotations.25 I got both the English and French version of L’avenir de l’homme26 from the library! – very interesting to see how someone else translates. I shall use his version in all cases except once where he runs sentences together in a funny way – tacks on part of a sentence that you don’t quote. I think it’s a good translation and keeps the spirit very well. I have a good draft now and am working at it, marking up margins etc, preparatory to doing the second draft. I’ll be letting you know later about when I’ll be coming down. Meanwhile I have one or two other things to ask you, which will save me a little time. p.36 poem – This is marked with a star but the reference is not on the page. Is this a continuation of ’Mon Pays’?27 p.44 – quote from Shri Aurobindo28 – he may have written in English originally so I should certainly get this right. p.32, third line from the bottom, word at end of line, beginning with S – a sort of blot (perhaps result of xerox-ing) has obliterated everything but ’s......aient’. 25 JM was translating a text GR had been commissioned by Guy Robert to write for Montreal’s 1967 World Exhibition celebrating Canada’s centennial. Most of the passages discussed in this and the following letter appear in the published essay, ‘Le thème raconté par Gabrielle Roy’ / ‘The Theme Unfolded by Gabrielle Roy,’ in Guy Robert, ed., Terre des hommes / Man and His World (Ottawa: La Compagnie canadienne de l’Exposition universelle de 1967 / Canadian Corporation for the 1967 World Exhibition, 1967), 20–61, which was presented in bilingual format. 26 By the French Catholic philosopher, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin (1881–1955). Originally published in 1959, the book appeared in English translation in 1964 under the title The Future of Man (trans. Norman Denny). GR met Teilhard de Chardin in 1947 in Paris at a reception given by the Canadian ambassador, Georges Vanier, in honour of her winning a French literary prize, the Prix Femina. 27 The reference is to the celebrated song by Gilles Vigneault (b. 1928). Its often-quoted first line reads: ‘Mon pays ce n’est pas un pays, c’est l’hiver.’ 28 Sri Aurobindo (1872–1950). Of English and Indian parentage, Aurobindo Ackroyd Ghose was associated with the Indian independence movement and is known primarily for his philosophical writings and his poems.

10 April 1967

13

22 – ‘battures’ – about middle of page. My Canadian dictionary gives the ‘Canadian’ meaning as ‘strand, rocky shore, ice-foot.’ I am not quite sure how you intend it but none of those seem to me right. (I don’t even know what an ice-foot is, but it seems unlikely.) Are you referring to islands or to the actual shores? I had the things to ask you written on a bit of paper – now it has disappeared! However, I think this is the lot – if I think of others, I’ll write again.



All the best, Joyce

52 Rosehill Avenue, Toronto 7 April 10, 1967 Dear Gabrielle, Many thanks for your letters, and please forgive me for not writing sooner. I should have told you long ago how much I enjoyed the work and how much I appreciate your kind hospitality and Marcel’s.29 Perhaps next time we meet it will be just for purposes of friendship. I’ve been damn busy since I got back with the galleys of the M. de l’I. letters.30 I now have all the galleys, including the biography and the historical sections, and must somehow get through with them quite soon. The text has been badly edited. In fact, it has not been edited at all. Some minor slips of my own – for instance, I have goodwill written once as one word, once as two – were not corrected. The editor then proceeded to add a great many inconsistencies of his own – changing his mind halfway through whether certain words should be capitalized, then changing it back again a little later. So I now have the task of doing the editing, which makes me rather nervous as it is so easy not to catch everything. Some little girl at the office is also going through the proofs but I don’t feel that I can trust her. As you can imagine, all this makes me a little irritable, but it will be done some day. And then I shall have to go through them all very carefully with the editor, which will mean hours of work. 29 JM had visited GR in Quebec City in early March. 30 JM translated and edited Word from New France: The Selected Letters of Marie de l’Incarnation.

14

10 April 1967

I made a very few changes in ‘our’ text and sent the sheets in question on to Guy Robert. I asked him to return them, thinking I could then send them to you, but he has not done so. The biggest was once when I had typed in an altogether wrong word. I think it is page 24, about 8 lines from the bottom. You are talking about the strictness of modern architecture. I have ‘elegance’ where it should be something entirely different like ‘materials.’ If you can find the relevant passage in the French and the English, you will see what I mean. I also added or subtracted an occasional minor word and one or two commas. As for the ‘roses,’ – I felt that your suggestion ‘What a, or such a, marvel ... it’ was a great deal heavier, rather than lighter. So I put ‘this marvel’ – this is a lighter word than that and, of course, avoids a repetition. I changed the word staggering, which you didn’t like, to, I think, appalling. I can’t quite remember what you suggested but it may have been startling, which wouldn’t do because it means a sudden, abrupt and momentary shock. However, if you are still not pleased, we can make changes in the galleys. They ought to be along quite soon, I imagine. I got my contract finally one day last week. It was dated March 7 and was apparently the one he had in Quebec that day. However, it makes no real difference, as I am not to be paid till ‘after the work is finished.’ I will read your friend’s story31 very soon – I just haven’t had a minute free of these galleys. I did read your script (film script) right after I got home and think it is very effective. I shall ask Jack what ideas he has about approaching Crawleys32 or whether he has any ideas about how I should do so. By the way, M.Z.33 called a couple of weeks ago and I gave her your message – about your not taking any part in the quarrel and not being

31 A story by Adrienne Choquette (1915–73), a novelist and one of GR’s closest friends. The two women first met in 1961. 32 GR had written a scenario based on ‘Le vieillard et l’enfant,’ one of the chapters of La route d’Altamont. She was thinking of offering it to Crawley Films, of Ottawa. Jack McClelland and F.R. ‘Budge’ Crawley (1911–87) were both on the board of Centennial Celebration Consultants Limited, ‘whose members offered their expertise and notoriety to businesses and individuals wanting to do something for the centennial or Expo ’67’ (Barbara Wade Rose, Budge: What Happened to Canada’s King of Film [Toronto: ECW Press, 1988], 131). 33 A mutual friend who had a summer home in Les Éboulements, a small town north of Petite-Rivière-Saint-François. She had quarrelled with Madeleine Chassé (the ‘MC’ mentioned a few lines further on) and Madeleine Bergeron, who had rented her house for the summer.

18 April 1967

15

in the least changed towards her. She was quite touchingly pleased. I did not tell her we had discussed the matter. In fact, I made it rather clear we had not. There are certain things she still does not know and I don’t want to be the means of telling them to her. She is still convinced she will be able to restore the friendship with MC – maybe she will but you did not make it seem very likely. I am enclosing a scrap of poetry I think you will like. I came across it in a book I was reading and want to look up the whole poem, which I don’t think I have ever read. The author was talking about words, as you might guess. He also told a little story that reminds me of Colette and le presbytère.34 An old lady told the rector of her parish that in times of spiritual stress, she obtained great strength from repeating to herself ‘that comforting word Mesopotamia.’ Isn’t that delightful? Well, I think this is all I had to tell you and must not just go on and on. I hope you are both well and that Marcel got through (and over) his lecture successfully.



All the best, Joyce

52 Rosehill Avenue, Toronto 7 April 18, 1967 Dear Gabrielle, I was really floored by your letter – what a time for them to come up with an idea like that and how could they expect you just to calmly accept!35 I see now why Guy Robert sent just a stiff note while sending 34 French writer Sidonie Gabrielle Colette (1873–1954), known as Colette. The reference is to the short text ‘Le curé sur le mur,’ in La maison de Claudine (1922). The ‘little story’ has not been traced. 35 GR has just learned that her essay for Terre des hommes (see note 25) was going to be shortened. In addition to making cuts to GR’s original, the editors made changes to JM’s translation without consulting either woman. As GR’s biographer, François Ricard, notes, the contractor ‘took it upon himself to cut and shape the text as he pleased, despite letters and telegrams from Gabrielle’ (François Ricard, Gabrielle Roy: A Life, trans. Patricia Claxton [Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1996], 405). The complete text by GR, retitled ‘Terre des Hommes: Le thème raconté,’ was later included in her collection of prose pieces, Fragiles lumières de la terre: Écrits divers 1942–1970. It was translated by Alan Brown as ‘Man and His World: A Telling of the Theme,’ in The Fragile Lights of Earth: Articles and Memories 1942–1970.

16

24 April 1967

the contract after I had written to him in friendly fashion while mailing the changes. By then I suppose he didn’t know what I knew and at any rate didn’t want to start telling me. I feel sorry for him as he may be only the instrument or mouthpiece. I hope this will be settled soon before your voltage gets any higher. What a disappointment after all that work! And it is such a nice text. My own little private frenzy goes on and I must release the galleys some time this week. I keep finding more horrible things. I will write at more length next time but just wanted to record my solidarity and fellow-feeling for the time being. If we were together, we could perhaps soothe ourselves by repeating those comforting (and bilingual) words, ‘Je suis le presbytère of Mesopotamia.’



All the best, Joyce

52 Rosehill Avenue, Toronto 7 April 24, 1967

Dear Gabrielle, I guess you did the only thing you could do. I’m glad you put up a good fight though, but it’s too bad that you had to. But, as you say, all this will be only a memory some day – and even perhaps a funny one. I don’t imagine that there’ll be any problem about my being paid. I felt just a little nervous that I haven’t a copy of the contract. (Two weeks ago Robert sent me two copies to sign and return. They were then to send one back, signed at their end, which they still haven’t done.) However, I do have a letter from him accepting the fee and a lawyer-friend of mine, who happened to drop in this afternoon, says that is all I need if there should ever be any trouble. The letter accepting my terms amounts to an agreement. Of course, there’s no reason to suspect that they will want to pull any sort of trick. If they want me to look over the cut translation, I will do so (for my own satisfaction and out of a sense of responsibility to the script), but I will not undertake some vast amount of work. As you say: Let them sink into their own mire. And if they try any tricks, well, I know how to get legal advice very quickly. But it is very strange (let us put it down to inexperience) that I still haven’t seen the colour of their money 6 weeks or more after I made the trip. But fortunately I can afford to wait for their next move.

26 April 1967

17

So do not worry. I’m sure my side of it will be straightened out in due course of time. I wonder how many stories like this there are back of Expo, if we only know. I gave back my galleys Friday noon last and am still awaiting comments from the editor. I hope there won’t be too much fighting involved. But ... I still think it will be a rather nice book and I am anxious for you to see it. It’s supposed to be out in September and I will send you a copy. I trust that by then April will be just a memory. Like you, I long to sink quietly and peacefully into some work of my own. I haven’t forgotten the books I promised to lend you. You will have them soon. All the best, Joyce P.S. But there is Komarov,36 plunging 5 miles to find his death on this earth & the revolting mess in Greece. My young friends are all worried. Their fathers, uncles etc are farmers & if they are prevented from planting in these next weeks they will starve.37



52 Rosehill Avenue, [Toronto] April 26, 1967 Dear Gabrielle, Many thanks for your letter of the 24th. I received from Adrienne Choquette in the same mail the copy of your letter to Guy Robert along with a script of the text with list of small changes. It was good of you to tell him I should not be asked to undertake quantities of new work. I do hope this warning will not be necessary. Needless to say, I have heard nothing yet though I expect something daily. As for my having copies made of the translation, unfortunately a number of pages are missing. I sent these to R. with small changes marked, asking him to return them, which he did not do. They were pressed and I thought to save a little time (and possible confusion) 36 Vladimir Mikhaylovich Komarov (1927–67), the Soviet cosmonaut whose space capsule, Soyuz 1, crashed to earth on 24 April 1967 while attempting to land. 37 JM is referring to the 21 April 1967 coup d’état in Greece, led by a military junta. She was helping some young Greeks with their English on a volunteer basis.

18

19 July 1967

simply by sending the sheets with changes marked in red. I hope you still have your copy. The missing sheets are: 2, 7, 11, 13, 18, 20, 24, 33, 36, 37, 41 All changes are exceedingly minor. On page 2, I remember, it was simply a mis-spelling of almanac, and most were commas. So could you send me these sheets – or if you think it simpler, just mail me the whole thing. It doesn’t matter how messy the pages are. I can understand your writing and will remember most of my corrections when I see the pages – if I don’t they are of such unimportance as to be neither here nor there. How many copies would you like made? I think the best thing would be for me to get my typist to make one full clean copy and then have this photocopied. It is not possible to have more than 2 (or just possibly 3) carbons if they are to be legible. Yes, I should dearly love to have a rest at Petite Rivière.38 And for God’s sake don’t let all this take too much out of you. Adrienne Choquette says in her covering note that you are ‘à bout.’39 In other words keep the presbytère standing.



Best to you and Marcel, Joyce

52 Rosehill Avenue, Toronto 7 July 19, 1967 Dear Gabrielle, Many thanks for your nice letter. I have been meaning to write to congratulate you on your elevation to the peerage.40 The news came after I had wrapped the package, though not before I finally consigned it to the mail. How did the word reach you? Did it come on parchment with many red seals, delivered on horseback by – well, whom? I gather 38 JM spent the month of June in Petite-Rivière-Saint-François. She stayed in a little cabin owned by Abbé Victor Simard, the brother of GR’s neighbours, Berthe and Aimé Simard. As the priest, whose parish was in Roberval (Quebec), was absent at the time, GR was able to rent it for JM’s visit. GR and JM referred to the cabin as the ‘presbytère’ (presbytery). 39 That is, ‘all in.’ 40 GR had just been named a Companion of the Order of Canada.

19 July 1967

19

that the formal investiture will be in the fall. Will you be tapped on the shoulder with a sword? I suppose not. Seriously, though, I am delighted and think it is well deserved. And it is pleasant that writing and the other arts are recognized finally in this country. I’m glad the mats are a good colour. I did give some thought to getting something that would suit the surroundings. And the bird too – I had a very sweet note from Berthe.41 As I told you, I wanted to send her something that would not necessarily be useful, that she would simply like. I was examining a small selection of carvings, nothing very appealing, in a little shop. The saleswoman said, ‘I might have some nicer ones downstairs’ and then brought up several, including the one you know, which I at once fell in love with and felt Berthe would like. The one thing that saddened me (when I got it home) was that the artist – and it was an artist who made that use of that particular bit of stone – simply signs himself on the bottom and on the accompanying card as E followed by a string of figures. As if you and I went through life as C such-and-such or worse still FC and EC. I have finished my index now and have today received the pageproofs – I refused to correct them till they had done it first in the office. So I will only have to make such corrections as I myself want to make – and that should not be many. We will go to press in early August and the book will come out, probably, at the beginning of October. So I am almost through with it, impossible to believe as that seems. I am delighted that the hearth of my presbytère is so well warmed – though I gasp rather at the thought of a family of 5 being installed there. It is marvellous for Aimé and Berthe to see a small source of future income. It is such a charming spot and the house deserves to have some money spent on it. I am keeping in mind the idea of returning perhaps next year – I think I need to keep my channels with Quebec open and return from time to time to my own roots. This is my year for entertaining young nieces between trains on their way back and forth from Expo. Several have been through, several more are yet to come – and all are charmed with Montreal and in love with their country. My sister42 in Edmonton writes to me that her daughters’ young friends at last realize that there is something more to

41 Berthe Simard, GR’s neighbour in Petite-Rivière-Saint-François. She kept house for her brother Aimé, a widower. 42 Vivian Henwood, the youngest of JM’s three sisters.

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16 August 1967

Canada than The West and all are eagerly applying themselves to learning more French so that they can return as soon as possible to Montreal and this time really talk to people. I think the tide has really turned and that the young will really build this country as it ought to be built. I do not think that young English-speaking westerners would have returned home with any such intention only ten years ago. So perhaps, despite all, Terre des Hommes is fulfilling some of its purposes and at least a few of our hopes. I do wish I could see the roses – I can imagine them, at least. I understand what you mean about finding it hard to write while keeping house, but perhaps this time will not seem to be so lost later. At least you will have cleared the winter out of your head. I look forward to clearing galleys and page-proofs out of mine. And I do not feel tired and frantic, as I did before my stay in the presbytère. I must stop now and not just type (inaccurately) on and on – a temptation always when I write to you. Perhaps you will come up to Toronto some time in the fall or winter? It would be nice if you would. Please give my greetings to Marcel, also to Aimé and Berthe, also Caroline.43 And all the best to you, Joyce Is the dog still silent at night?44

 [Toronto,] August 16, 1967

Dear Gabrielle, I enclose receipts – trois exemplaires. I hope it is okay. I used a very ancient carbon for the last copy, had no idea it was so old, but I guess that copy would just be for you. I have written to M.Z. to ask her to pick up a copy of the book. I am enraged for your sake that this happened.45 For my own sake it is not so much of a shock – nothing could have surprised me after what they 43 Berthe’s budgie. As a surprise for JM, GR had taught it to say ‘Hello, Joyce’ and one or two other simple phrases. 44 Unidentified. 45 See note 35 regarding the unauthorised changes made to both GR’s essay for Terre des hommes and JM’s translation.

28 November 1967

21

had already done. But this does not eliminate the fact that they have behaved in a disgusting, insulting, and unprofessional manner. It is incredible that they would behave with such lack of simple honesty, just sneaking the whole thing through in such a way that we wouldn’t know. Well, I don’t know what to say so I won’t say anything. It is worse, of course, for you as I well appreciate. Obviously minds of the most advertising-agency sort got to work and made the changes – this shows in their changing ‘echoing’ etc. Gabrielle, I hope you will not make yourself ill over this. That is easy to say, I know. To speak of something more pleasant – you mentioned in your letter the possibility of my translating some short stories. I would be delighted to do this. I assume you would not want it done in any enormous hurry. Just whenever you feel like sending them along, do so and then I will ease into it gently. I am eager to see what you have written. I wonder if you will have any reply to your telegram. Let me know what develops and meanwhile I shall see if anything can be done from this end.



All the best, Joyce

Quebec, November 28, 1967 Dear Joyce, Directly upon receiving your handsome book I began reading the introduction which I find fascinating and which holds one, I believe, as well as a good novel.46 How, in fact, did you manage to put so much life in a subject which we usually imagine as arid and which has been treated as such for so long? Your account throbs with life right through and of course is written in a tone specially beautiful, I feel, because of its refined simplicity. To think that a Solange ChaputRolland got a grant to write her silly-nothing whilst you! ...47 Ah, 46 JM had sent GR a copy of Word from New France: The Selected Letters of Marie de l’Incarnation (see note 30). 47 Solange Chaput-Rolland (1919–2001), best known as a journalist and essayist. The ‘silly-nothing’ was probably her essay Mon pays, Québec ou le Canada? published in 1966. JM’s publisher, Oxford University Press, had tried without success to get JM a grant from a government committee providing funding for centennial projects.

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10 December 1967

well, let’s not waste our time on such stupidity. As usual you have delivered a very highly finished product bearing the mark of your fine professional standards. Thank you for such a sustained and admirable effort. I know I will enjoy the book to the last page. Everything in it brings enjoyment, the quality of the paper, the characters, the contents. It would be nice if my film script were to interest some one in the cinema world.48 By the way, through a friend who had photocopies of the script made for me, one copy went to the Walt Disney studio where this friend has acquaintances, and another copy, I believe, to someone of the National Film Board. Nothing quite probably will come out of all this, but there is no harm in trying. Will you also please note that I have changed the title. At the present, I have two suggested titles: Un phare dans la plaine ou Un jour au grand lac Winnipeg. Well, dear Joyce, let us hope for good luck for us both.



Yours Gabrielle

52 Rosehill Avenue, Toronto 7 Dec. 10, 1967 Dear Gabrielle, Many thanks for your good words about my book, which I appreciate particularly, coming from you. I did my best certainly to free the material from the odour of mortuary wax that usually surrounds it and to write the little biography of Marie de l’Incarnation as a novelist would do but without interpretation from me or, of course, any imagined incidents or facts. The Ursulines of Quebec like the book. I sent an early copy off to Mère Marie-Emmanuelle and she replied very warmly, saying they had long hoped for such a book. There have been some good reviews and at least one very bad one – in The Globe and

48 The film script based on ‘Le vieillard et l’enfant’ (see note 32).

10 December 1967

23

Mail,49 of all places. I was irritated slightly by the realization that they had farmed the book out to someone who seemingly couldn’t have cared less about the subject and seemingly just glanced here and there, then announced that it was impossible for present-day readers to understand why anyone should have wanted to ‘convert the Savages.’ I will not write at any length today because I am all wrapped up in Christmas preparations – more accurately, I’m not sufficiently wrapped up and I have a bad conscience about it. I will say, however, that I had a brief and very interesting trip to Mexico in October to meet a Norwegian friend and that I saw Popocatepetl (sp?) from the air. It is a fascinating and sad country. Let me know if anything turns up about the film script.50 I do think it ought to please somewhere. I don’t know what if anything Jack has done – I shall jog his elbow early in the week. Did you see Shaw’s Saint Joan on the television. I thought G. Bujold51 was excellent though I should have wished her face were a little less baby-cute and her makeup a little less modern.



All the best, Yours, Joyce

49 Annette Cohen, ‘Untranslated Piety in the Midst of Valor,’ Globe Magazine, 2 December 1967, 28. Cohen writes that ‘Word from New France is a selection of letters written by the Ursuline nun Marie de l’Incarnation, who came to Canada in 1639 to found a convent and to teach and convert “the savages” ... Word from New France is a historical document with first-hand accounts of the earliest settlements of Canada. But it is also a study of ecclesiastic fervor. The book is admirable as history. Miss Marshall has augmented the information in the letters with brief essays which explain the events of the time more fully than the letters alone do. There are extensive notes, a bibliography and a cross-referenced index ... The book is an entirely commendable and worthwhile addition to the existing works on Canadian history; yet it is a disappointment. When Miss Marshall has done such a careful job, when the material is so promising, why is the final effect so much less than exhilarating? Unfortunately only tentative answers are available. It is possible that, in the letters reproduced, the piety of Marie de l’Incarnation does not translate into a universal experience which can bridge the gap of three centuries. Or it is just possible that, even with the bravura of Centennial, Canadian history is a subject which is extraordinarily difficult to bring to life.’ 50 See note 32. 51 Actor Geneviève Bujold (b. 1942). She played opposite Roddy McDowell in this television production of Saint Joan, a play by George Bernard Shaw (1856–1950).

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19 February 1968

52 Rosehill Avenue [, Toronto] Feb. 19, 1968 Dear Gabrielle, It seems like a long time since I have written to you but things have been very unsettled here. Right after Christmas we learned we had to move as we are to be replaced by high-rise apartments. First my friends below tried to find a house with quarters for me but finally they were obliged to take a smaller place. I then began to search on my own, feeling at first depressed by what is offered. My living room here is particularly big and there are windows on all four sides of the flat with light pouring in. Finally, however, I turned up something that seems ideal. It is on the 3rd floor, has a balcony, is on a corner facing south and east with a pretty good outlook, and it has one more room than here. Rent is high but actually reasonable for what I’m getting, compared to what I’ve seen. So on and after March 1 my address will be: Apt 304 105 Isabella Street Toronto 5. I imagine my phone number will be the same but will let you know if it isn’t. Meanwhile, our poor nice street has become a disaster area, with houses tumbling down right and left. Hordes of jovial workmen, including several Portuguese who speak French, having worked in France before coming here, wave their wrecking hammers and doff their hard hats to us as we pass, laughing and shouting, ‘Nous travaillons très bien, n’est-ce pas?’ They cook and eat at little fires. ‘Nous mangeons agricole le mercredi,’ one said one day – apparently an ‘in’ joke, for they all laughed heartily.52 I am glad they remain so cheerful amidst this destruction but I shall be glad to move away from this condemned place. Meanwhile I am sorting and tearing, trying to discard books, wondering if I really need to carry away all this paper. I shall be mailing you in a day or so two books which I borrowed from the library at Petite last time. I shall also lend you a most delightful history of England (from prehistoric times till just before the Reformation) which I think you will enjoy reading.53 It is excellently and vividly written, I 52 ‘We eat very well, don’t we?’ The workmen’s second remark, literally ‘We eat agricultural on Wednesdays,’ could mean that they are comparing themselves to farm labourers who prepare their meals in the fields where they work. 53 The Medieval Foundation (1966) by Arthur Bryant (1899–1985).

23 June 1968

25

feel. It has also another attractive (and not too common) quality – it is written with love, a passion for England that shines through every word. We are all so ashamed nowadays to admit that we love certain sticks and stones, certain people, certain things that made us. You will find in it certain matters we have discussed, about the English language, for instance, and about the Conquest. I got the film script off to Crawley and hope something good will come of this – I think it will make a beautiful film. I happened to mention to Jack McCl54 that you thought you might come here some time. He was delighted – I hope you won’t mind (he knows you don’t like large cocktail parties) – and will write to you. I feel also that you should come, so why don’t you do so at your leisure? Come after March 1st so you can see my new place. I will even make apple crisp and – what were my other triumphs? I can’t remember at the moment. Anyway, I would love to see you and I think you could have a nice, not too strenuous, late-winter or early-spring break here. Well, here I am going on and on as I always do when I write to you and I have many notes of change of address that I must send off. I’ll look forward to hearing from you, if not at this old address, then at the new. Give Marcel my best. I hope you are both having a good winter. Affectueusement, Joyce I expect to be on a radio programme quite soon – about bilingualism, translation etc. If I have warning, I shall let you know the date.



105 Isabella, [Toronto] June 23, 1968

Dear Gabrielle, I see I absent-mindedly addressed an airmail envelope to send to you. However, I guess there is still no air service to Petite – unless raven-post perhaps? Thanks for returning the book, which I received safely. I’m glad you enjoyed it. It is indeed long since we have seen each other – very

54 Jack McClelland. See note 32.

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23 June 1968

long too since I last wrote. I got so involved in moving and then never got uninvolved. I love my new place, incidentally. It is very spacious with open outlook on two sides – and a marvellously fantastic city view: old enormous houses, modern apartment towers, surviving trees, everything. And the building itself is like a city with the people just friendly enough – they speak in the elevators. The population is diverse with a sprinkling of Negroes, Chinese, and Indians, going all the way from old old people to young students, a few small children and even several unborn. And yet the place is soundproof and surprisingly quiet. I do hope you will get to Toronto soon and can see it. I myself am still rather deficient in carpets and a few other things. I just don’t have the leisure to do necessary shopping and fussing all at once – and then I prefer to do it more gradually, buy one thing at a time and let it settle down with my other things and with me. All at once I seem to be flying to Europe next Wednesday the 26th – I say ‘seem’ because the trip came up so abruptly that I still do not believe it is taking place. I am to meet an old school friend55 in Frankfurt, where she is buying a car, and then we head south – I want to visit the little girl I am supporting in the north of Greece.56 I will be away three weeks. I think it should be an interesting trip. The one thing that worries me is that distances are so great (and mountainous) that we won’t be able to stay for very long in any one place. In future I shall probably speak of my half-hour in Beograd57 or my glimpse of Dubrovnik in the distance. I had hoped to get over to Greece on my own in September – there are a number of things about the child’s family circumstances I feel I need to know – and this makes the trip considerably cheaper (and should be pleasanter too). I wish I could have got down to Petite this summer. Perhaps next year. I have been thinking about my little presbytère a lot recently. I am so glad Berthe is improving the house and thinking of it as a future source of small income for herself. I would have liked to have a little stay down there this year but felt obliged to save money for Greece – I have felt considerable anxiety about the family there and it is so difficult to obtain information at a distance. However, with that out of the

55 Elsie McIlroy, whom JM met when they were both attending St Helen’s School in Dunham, Quebec. 56 JM was supporting a young Greek girl, Elizabeth Samou, through the Foster Parents’ Plan. 57 Belgrade.

13 October 1968

27

way, I may during the coming winter be able to make some arrangements with Berthe for part of the early summer. Do give my best greetings to her and to Aimé. And I would like to know whether the little Caroline still remembers me. Well, I must now start to look at clothes and decide what I should take with me. I hope you are well and enjoying the summer. I look forward to having your news when I get back to Toronto in mid-July. My best to Marcel,



Affectueusement, Joyce

Quebec, October 13, 1968 My dear Joyce, Thank you so much for your prompt letter and your very reliable opinion, I’m sure. I am most happy to hear that you have enjoyed reading my manuscript. By the way Fleur boréale was a transitory title. I am now inclining towards La rivière sans repos, which would become the overall title.58 How do you feel about it? Quite a few things seem to be in suspense in my own mind. Of one, I am sure, though, and that is that I want you to do the job of translating, if, of course, you are willing. However, I find it more becoming, before we come to an arrangement, to send a copy to Mr. Dan Wickenden of Harcourt, Brace & World.59 (You may be right in your estimation of his abruptness considering certain matters, although it may also be due partly to the fact that it was I who refused Mr. Binsse60 – a friend of the firm, thus causing a certain irritation at the start.) Keep your own copy. I will be left without any, after I have sent my own to New York, but I prefer this to 58 La rivière sans repos was published in 1970. The volume contains a novel with the same title, preceded by three short stories, the ‘Nouvelles esquimaudes’ (‘Les satellites,’ ‘Le téléphone,’ and ‘Le fauteuil roulant’). 59 American novelist Dan Wickenden (1913–89) was GR’s editor at the New York-based publishing house Harcourt Brace and World during the 1960s. 60 Harry Lorin Binsse (1905–71) translated four of GR’s novels: La Petite Poule d’Eau, translated as Where Nests the Water Hen; Alexandre Chenevert, translated as The Cashier; Rue Deschambault, translated as Street of Riches; and La montagne secrète, translated as The Hidden Mountain.

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13 October 1968

having yours go back and forth. Perhaps I can arrange to have a photo copy made of one or the other. Anyhow, the most pressing matter for now is to have an opinion from Harcourt, Brace. I am writing to-day and already putting your name forward, should they consider publication, and, henceforth, translation of the manuscript. No, dear Joyce, I am not vindictive to the point of turning completely against M and S61 because of last summer’s incident, although, before I renew with them, I would expect the assurance that this was a mistake and that it is not to happen again. Because, of course, if they honestly feel that my books do not sell at a sufficiently quick rate, I have no intention to press them to publish another. Perhaps you could find out for me – on the side – what exactly is the matter and then we can decide. At all events, I shall wait for an answer from New York before I take any decision. You, yourself, might be free to start on the job right now – which would be a wonderful thing – as you wrote in your previous letters, and there would be no time lost. In all fairness to you, I don’t quite know what to suggest. Good sense tells me to wait for an answer from New York which might take a month or even more. But another sort of counsel tells me that the sooner you start on this work the better. Tell me what you yourself feel. Of course the fee will have to be debated. You might perhaps tell me what is considered a reasonable fee – I have no idea myself – so that if the question comes up between Harcourt and myself, I shall be in a position to discuss the matter. From what Mr. Binsse used to tell me [...]62 they were far from generous in their fee for translation. Of course one must consider that such fees add up considerably to the expense of publishing a book, which is already very large in the case of a relatively small edition, such as La route d’Altamont. Forme[r]ly, Harcourt, Brace used to ask me to pay half of the cost of translation, but I never found out exactly to how much it amounted. All this, I realize, must be rather tedious for you, but perhaps it is best after all, for the two of us to come to a clear understanding on this matter. 61 McClelland and Stewart. Abbreviations referring to persons and publishing houses will not be footnoted from this point onward, as the index lists these forms and refers the reader to the appropriate full name entry. The reference to ‘last summer’s incident’ is unclear. 62 As noted in the introduction, a few sentences or parts of sentences have been omitted at the request of Joyce Marshall or the Fonds Gabrielle Roy.

19 November 1968

29

Here too the autumn colours have been exceedingly63 beautiful, softer, more luminous than they often are. What joy if we could walk together in the hills during these days.



Yours affectionately Gabrielle

105 Isabella St., Apt 304 [Toronto,] Nov. 19, 1968

Dear Gabrielle, I’m really horrified at how long your letter has remained unanswered – I trust you haven’t thought I’d died. I’ve been trying to gather some information – alas, without success. 1st, about M and S – I’m not too well-connected there now. I was friendly with the girl who was Jack’s assistant – she could have found out easily but is no longer there. I hoped to learn something from an editorial contact, who was away. But a little tactful edging around shows the information can’t be obtained from this source without too much fuss. Now what I wonder – how would you feel about my asking Jack? – I wouldn’t do this without your consent. I know he’d be distressed at your being distressed – and after all it is his firm. I don’t know how you’d feel about this. I wouldn’t do it in any way to embarrass you. Now about a fee – I simply don’t know what to suggest. There seems to be no norm. People get various sums for various books, and no one seems to know what would be the going rate in the U.S. I got a thousand for Altamont – that was the 1st I ever did and it was a fairly short book. I think it would be best for HB to make an offer. I thought Bob Weaver might have some useful suggestion – he’s in touch with so many people and things but when I finally tracked him down today (he was out west, then away with flu) he knows no more than anyone else. Translation’s such a new profession in Canada. I was offered a year or so ago to translate a 400-page (400 large printed pages) history for 3 thousand but, apart from my lack of interest in anything so academic, it seemed to me a lot of work for relatively little. I’m sorry to be

63 GR: exceedindly

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12 December 1968

so inconclusive – I’ve kept thinking there must be someone somewhere who knows. At any rate, I’d prefer not to be the one who names a fee, lest I underprice myself. I’ve been familiarizing myself with the text, as one must do before one starts, and can begin at any minute. In fact, just say ‘Begin’ and I will. I presume HB would offer some sort of advance. Forgive me this long delay. I really hoped I might have some information for you. all the best, Joyce M.Z. was here last week end. She seems well and very much in love with her house at Les É.64



Quebec, December 12, 1968 My dear Joyce, Just before leaving to-day for New Smyrna,65 I have bad news for you. I have just heard from Dan Wickenden of Harcourt, Brace, New York. They have given up the idea of publishing my manuscript. Costs of printing are high, costs of translation add up a lot – and The Road Past Altamont66 did not sell too well, already, only some 4000 copies in the States. This one, they fear, might do even less. For my part, I’m afraid it might do no better with McClelland and Stewart. I feel like giving up, dear. It is a heart wrench. But, I suppose, like so many of us these days, I have to face the reality that I am not a writer attuned to our time. Do not take this too much at heart. I shall try to rest and recover in Florida, already what I need is, I believe, something which would interest me completely and pull me away from my present frame of mind. But what! Where am I to find this all compelling motive? I wish I were a nurse, or a doctor, almost anything but what I am. But enough of this. I thought I owed you the truth. It will be nice to hear from you in Smyrna. Will I stay there a long time I don’t know. If I 64 Les Éboulements. 65 This was GR’s second winter in New Smyrna, Florida. 66 JM’s translation of La route d’Altamont, published by McClelland and Stewart in 1966.

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were younger, I would like to join up an organization like Suco, or Peace Corps.67 Dear, my warmest wishes. Gabrielle. c/o Miss Marie Dubuc68 1905 Hill street New Smyrna Beach Florida 32069 [Along left-hand margin, GR has written:] I will let you know later what to do with the manuscript.



New Smyrna Beach December 19th, 1968 My dear Joyce, How kind of you to write to me immediately after receiving my letter. Your sensible, friendly words have already helped considerably. I suppose I took H & B’s reaction so much at heart because until now nothing had led me to expect anything of the sort from them. Perhaps you are right all along the line. In any case, I am not yet in a mind to judge with a relative amount of objectivity, but if you feel that Jack should see the manuscript, all right, go ahead. How does he go about, by the way, in the case of a manuscript in French? Does he rely on your appraisal? Can he read enough French himself? Or has he got several other readers for the purpose? You might need an extra copy. If so, let me know and I will write H. & B. to ask them to send you their copy. Later on I may need it, for my last minute corrections and polishing if I ever find back my interest for the manuscript. Perhaps your idea to start translation on one of the short stories, say ‘Le fauteuil roulant,’ is a good one too. How about if 67 SUCO, the Service universitaire canadien outremer, is the French name for the Canadian University Service Overseas (CUSO), a non-governmental organization created in 1961 that sends volunteers abroad to work with local people on development projects. The Peace Corps, created by American President John F. Kennedy in 1960, has a similar mission. 68 Marie Dubuc, the daughter of industrialist J.-E.-A. Dubuc. GR first met her in 1953.

32

19 December 1968

you talked with Jack considering the whole thing and then decide between yourselves what is best. And then we might offer it to the CBC program Anthology. I am quite willing to leave things into your hands, concerning this manuscript, also the scenario left with the Crawley films.69 If you manage to come to an arrangement with them, or other people, would you accept a commission? After all, it’s only fair ... 10% perhaps? I am so pleased that you have started writing short stories again – although in a sense it’s agony. I am very much looking forward to reading them, as I hope you will allow me some day. Yes, it would be wonderful if you could escape some of our harsh winter and join me, I could put you up too, for, starting January 1st, I shall have a small apartment with two good beds. You might not find me good company though. Somehow I feel without bounce at all, a sort of a lifeless thing tossed about. I am trying to follow your advice and I walk and walk along the sea hours at the time, merely conscious, after a while, of the sound of the surf – and bless God for that. Your paragraph on ‘us’ writers struck me as very apt and true. I too have felt strangely hurt when considered as a person apart – of course we are apart, but not in the sense of escaping life that some people mean. On the contrary we are, I suppose, as near as possible to the continuous drama, tear and wear of life. It was very lovely of you, dear Joyce, to take the time – shortly before Christmas, when there is so much to do – to write me such a perfectly beautiful letter. I would like A Jest of God70 if you will kindly mail it to me. I do hope I will hear from you again very soon and offer you my renewed wishes, dear Joyce, for a very happy new year, above all to complete your short stories satisfactorily according to your expectations. Affectionately yours, Gabrielle I am touched to hear that Jack thinks so highly of me as a person and as a writer. Still, it goes without saying, if you are to let him see the manu-

69 A reference to the film script based on ‘Le vieillard et l’enfant’ (see note 32). 70 A novel by writer Margaret Laurence (1926–87), first published in 1966.

15 January 1969

33

script, I should want him to be free to judge without the least hint of favoritism.



New Smyrna Beach January 3, 1969

Dear Joyce, This is a short note to let you know that I am asking Harcourt, Brace & World to send you my manuscript which I would like you to keep for me, until we reach any decision on this subject. To have it sent back home when no one hardly ever answers the door when Marcel is at work is too hazardous. I am writing a note to Dan Wickenden this very day asking him to mail you the manuscript. Also, in case I forgot to do so, I’m giving you my permanent address, having just moved in my little apartment. I’m doing all I can to come out of this thick depressive feeling, but have not accomplished much yet, I fear. Yet there is great beauty all around me. How true, that it is all in the eye of the beholder. Did you have a good Christmas day and a happy New Year day? Dear, I wish you a very fine new year, to accomplish your work well and to find great joy in so doing. With affectionate regards Gabrielle 1909 Hill street New Smyrna Beach Florida 32069



New Smyrna Beach, January 15, 1969

Dear Joyce, I’m so sorry that you had to submit to an operation; no doubt you must have endured considerable pain before. I had an attack of this dreadful thing, years ago, in France and I can hardly remember a worse pain.71 I’m glad that you are rid now of this unpleasantness. I’m 71 For haemorrhoids. GR underwent a similar operation in 1955.

34

15 January 1969

so sorry though to think that I poured my lament in your ear at a moment when you had troubles of your own. Please forgive me. Naturally I do not wish to press you in the least about the manuscript and asking Jack McClelland to look at it. Perhaps I’m getting touchy. Since that letter from McClelland & Stewart last summer – of which I wrote to you72 – I have remained a little uneasy in my mind, wondering if they did not have difficulties in point of fact in selling the Road. And this makes me a little nervous now about this present manuscript. Ah well, I am full of doubts these days, some perhaps silly, others, it could be, well founded. For the time being, I shall try to follow your good advice, take the sun and walk endlessly. Such a life has cured me before of nervous fatigue. Meantime, do look after yourself properly. What a pity you cannot join me, to pursue your convalescence here by the ocean. I’m glad that you have friends to do your shopping and other errands. Wish I could help too. Perhaps later I shall at least be able to write cheerful letters. There is quite a colony of Canadians here, some from Quebec, but the greater part of them from southern Ontario. On the whole they are nice and well-mannered, a little lonely it seems, most of them, for they have no sooner arrived then they begin to band themselves in little clubs of Canadians-in-Florida and proceed to luncheons, meetings and even constitute themselves into well-knit groups with president, vicepresident and so forth ... Something touchingly provincial about all this draws me to my compatriots, in spite of a certain ridicule. You see, my attempts at humour are very feeble. Dear, do get better and take plenty of rest. I always very much like your wonderful letters. Gabrielle P.S. I woke up this morning to hear the mocking-bird for the first time this season. What a heart-warming creature, a king, in a sense, but sitting humbly on the telephone wires to send forth in every direction its magical strain of music. G.



72 Neither McClelland and Stewart’s nor GR’s letter has been found.

1 February 1969

35

New Smyrna Beach, Jan. 19, 1969 Dear Joyce, I’m sending you herewith a copy of Dan Wickenden’s last letter. Thought it might interest you to see the sort of manoeuvering.73 As a matter of fact, I more or less felt a switch in their attitude ever since I fought so hard – two or is it three years ago? – to have my own translator and a separate contract in Canada. It could be that American publishers, to a certain extent, are interested in publishing Canadian writers with an eye on Canadian markets. I know this applies to French Canadian writers in Paris, or being published in France. Well, I suppose there is nothing there to surprise me. After all, Canadian writers, as a rule, are appreciated at home in as much as they are known outside their country. So the vicious circle goes round and round for us. If you feel that it would be a good idea to show this copy to Jack, go ahead. I leave it to your good judgment. I hope that you are continuing to improve in health with every passing day.



With affectionate wishes Gabrielle

New Smyrna Beach, February 1, 1969 My dear Joyce, Yes, I promptly received your telegram74 which indeed relieved this strange pain of waiting and uncertainty – though I suppose people of our breed cannot be thoroughly relieved ever of uncertainty. And then, just now, I have received your so kind, so friendly and cheerful letter. Trust Joyce to be there where there is need. Above all, I am pleased to hear that you are getting better and better. Yes, by all means, start on 73 Dan Wickenden ‘wanted to bypass M[cClelland] and S[tewart] and have the book handled in Canada by [Harcourt Brace’s] agent. G refused.’ (JM, letter to Jane Everett, 23 October 2000.) 74 Telling GR of Jack McClelland’s eagerness to publish the English translation of La rivière sans repos.

36

1 February 1969

the translation if you feel well enough. I would have a nice, comfortable feeling if I knew you were at work on my manuscript. I shall be quite willing to let Jack handle the whole matter. Of course, I have always thought he indeed is a fine, human person. So let us hope for the best. Now that the storm is over, I am kind of glad to be out of Harcourt, Brace, although, I must say, their treatment of me, until lately, had been very elegant and considerate on the whole. I expect to stay here till the end of March, unless something out of the ordinary should happen, in the hope that by staying long enough, I shall drive Marcel to join me, for I am assured that the habit of coming south for a few weeks in the course of our harsh winter would be most beneficial to him. And he does need it, being nervous, too high strung, often despondent, all from lack of real relaxation I feel. Well, I can’t blame him too much, for I more or less have felt like that myself lately. How I hope to pull out of that feeling as completely as possible. By the way, have you received the second manuscript from Harcourt, Brace, which, they say, they have addressed to you quite some time ago. If not, it might be held at the customs. I’m glad to see that Jack relies on your judgment. You deserve it, and I feel he is doing himself credit by doing so. It could be that Harcourt, Brace rely on a poor sort of reader,75 or a very biased – one. I received A Jest of God and have already read it. It is indeed, as you wrote, a simple little story, but means more than it seems to as you read. And I mean simple, here, as a compliment, as you meant it yourself, I gather. It has a quiet matter of fact sort of pathos, hum drum pathos, which I find very characteristic of the west. I felt that the whining mother is specially well defined. Of course, there is very little new, or really original, in the handling of this material, but it is at least authentic, true, unpretentious and sort of moving, in the end. Dear Joyce, you can’t know how good it was to hear from you and specially to feel what a staunch support you are towards your own friends. Do continue to improve, in health. Many thanks again for the wire.



Affectionately Gabrielle

75 The reader to whom Harcourt Brace had referred the manuscript had apparently found many ‘errors’ in GR’s depiction of Inuit life (JM, letter to Jane Everett, 23 October 2000).

11 March 1969

37

New Smyrna Beach, March 11, 1969 My dear Joyce, Thank you so very much for your good letter.76 It’s nice to think that you are already so far advanced in the translation. I never thought you would already have covered so much. It will be fine indeed if you manage to finish the work for September, although, as you say, the main thing is to take all the time that is needed. Yes, it would be wise to look out for too many ‘petite’ ou ‘peut-être’ or, in this book it may be another word which I have used too frequently, in a sort of a ‘tic.’ Chase them out as much as possible, except, of course when they are quite useful for the sake of attenuation or balance of the phrase. I don’t know the exact equivalent of mamelon and, having no dictionnary, here, I am at lost77 to help. These elevations are quite small, you must remember. I perhaps could have used ‘tertre’ or ‘butte’ just as well, but the word mamelon conveyed the idea of the form better, I thought, than any other word I could figure. I did not hear of a special English word there, having only been five days in all at Fort-Chimo,78 but if you find out such a word so much the better. Specially if it seems to fit in well with the narrative. Let me know, in any case, when you find out. I, myself, shall be back home on March 28th, so, if you go through Quebec before or after Easter do come and see me, I shall be ever so happy. Let me know a few days ahead of time, if you can. Meantime, you might keep your mind open for an overall title other than La rivière sans repos, unless you hit on a French version of this title which would sound good. My best to M.Z. and to you my affectionate regards. Gabrielle [Along left-hand margin, GR has written:] I sometimes think that Eskimo 76 This letter has not been found. 77 That is, ‘at a loss.’ 78 Fort Chimo, now Kuujjuaq, is on the Koksoak River in Quebec’s Far North. At the invitation of a geologist friend, GR spent a week in the region in July 1961. The trip inspired the essay ‘Voyage en Ungava,’ since published in ‘Le Pays de Bonheur d’occasion’ et autres récits autobiographiques épars et inédits, ed. François Ricard, Sophie Marcotte, and Jane Everett, Cahiers Gabrielle Roy (Montreal: Boréal, 2000), 101–28.

38

21 April 1969

Tales would be as good as anything or a title in which would be used the name of the river Koksoak. So hard to pronounce though.



Quebec, April 21st, 1969

Dear Joyce, I received the manuscript this morning only. I’m sending you a small part of the corrected pages. There is quite a bit to mend in the last part, so that it may take me a few days yet. I am sorry to have send you an unfinished piece of work, to start with. For one thing, I was extremely tired and quite unable to see clearly in my work. You will notice that I have had several pages recopied, and there will be more in the last part. In this case, I will pin the new page to the old, indicating in red ink the passages that are changed. Also notice – you will in the later part – several fairly long cuts which help, I hope. I earnestly hope that these changes and corrections will not complicate your task too much. Marcel and I enjoyed ourselves tremendously with you and M.Z.79 and hope very much that we will have some more such good meetings this summer. Affectionately, Gabrielle P.S. In the process of translating, you may have already smoothed passages which I worked upon. So much the better if it is so. Naturally, I wish you to feel quite free to continue in this spirit, should you come across a few more bumpy passages.



Québec, May80 1969

My dear Joyce, I hope you have not been lacking corrected pages. I find that I have

79 JM had been visiting M.Z. at Les Éboulements. 80 There is a space here in the original, as if GR meant to check the date before inserting it, and then forgot to do so.

20 May 1969

39

to go backwards and forward through the manuscript, in making corrections, which, of course, takes time. I hope chiefly that you have got all that salt out of your body.81 What a strange case! Looking forward to see you again in the near future.



Affectionately yours Gabrielle

Québec, May 20th 1969 Dear Joyce, I hope all goes well with you and that your health has improved. Will you kindly let me know if you have received the two last packages of corrected pages, and now this one, running now to page 160. Also notice that I am sending you a few pages belonging to the first batch on which I have made a few more minor corrections. The process seems endless, and I am confused beyond words to add to your work so. Affectionate wishes Gabrielle Although I have been sending the pages by registered mail, I cannot help worrying a little, for so much mail seems to get lost these days, at least in Quebec City. And no wonder! I seem to have a new postman almost every second day. Good wishes again Gabrielle Since your good letter, I have sent you three more batches, this one included.



81 This refers to an allergy JM developed as the result of salt baths she took following her operation (see note 71).

40

2 June 1969

Quebec, June 2nd, 1969 Dear Joyce, Thank you so much for having drawn my attention to ‘la pose ... les deux mains posées ... ’82 How can any one go over and over a script without noticing such things. Of course, at a certain stage, I think we do need an objective and fresh reader. It is easy to correct, though. I suppose just this might do: ‘les deux vieilles mains sur les accoudoirs.’ Anyhow, do as you please with the translation; for the time being I’m hastening to reach the end before a final reading of the whole. Affectionately Gabrielle Very likely, I shall be at Petite-Rivière from June 15th on. Here is my private telephone number should you need to communicate with me ***-5481



Toronto, June 4, 1969

Dear Gabrielle, Many thanks for pages up to 190 received this morning. I am so much enjoying translating the long story83 – it is a magnificent piece and I think you are improving it all along the line. I made a note for you the other day – p 139 line 2 (start of section VII). Is it not a typographical error that the old ‘bord’ has become ‘nord’? I am treating it as such. The new beginning of this chapter is a particularly good change. I also think it is good to end the previous chapter earlier as you now do. The final section was nice but not really required. I guess you will be glad to get to Petite and finished with this very close attention to the manuscript!



affectionately Joyce

82 The words ‘pose’ and ‘posées’ are underlined in the original. The passage in question is among those reproduced in appendix B. 83 JM is referring to the novel La rivière sans repos.

21 August 1969

41

Quebec, June 4,84 1969 Dear Joyce, Seeing all these pages have been typed again, and correspond, in order, ‘dans la pagination’85 to the manuscript you have in hand, I suppose I can send them to you alone. For it would be quite a long job now to indicate all the corrections by hand, in red. I hope everything is clear and easy for you to understand. There seems to be no end, this time, to the correcting process. Before the absolutely final version, I may still come up with a few minor changes. My best and most affectionate regards, Gabrielle Of course, it is au bord,86 page 139. Thanks for your lovely letter of June 4th.



Petite-Rivière-St-François August 21, 1969 Dear Joyce, I received your letter to me yesterday but not yet your note87 addressed care of Berthe, which is strange, since you say that you mailed it first. Never mind, the most important is to learn that you are well. M.Z., bless her soul, telephoned two days ago to reassure me, for by this time the both of us had been upset. I am sending you whatever corrections are ready by now. I have made them here and there throughout the manuscript, ‘selon une méthode à moi, probablement folle, mais c’est ainsi.’88 I will probably return to

84 This letter, in which GR refers to JM’s letter of June 4th, could not have been written on that same day. Or if it was, it was posted some days later, after GR had received JM’s letter. 85 ‘in page numbering’ 86 ‘bord’ is underlined in the original. 87 Neither the letter nor the note has been found. 88 ‘according to a method that is peculiarly mine and undoubtedly crazy, but that’s how it is’

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30 August 1969

Quebec this coming Sunday and will make an attempt to go through the whole script – within 10 days or so – for a final revision, which may not be final yet. I keep on discovering slips of inattention, it’s most disheartening. And through all creeps the dreadful feeling, that perhaps you have known at one time or another – that the whole pursuit is not worth while. Later, but I don’t want you to feel rushed, anymore than I could stand it myself – you might give me an idea of the date when you expect to be finished, or about. Do you suppose you could then come to Quebec? I found it so profitable to work together. Or, perhaps, according to the date, I might be able to go to Toronto for a change. This, of course, is not at all sure, at the time being, but there is no harm in dreaming. In your vicinity, could I find a hotel or motel where I could have [a] room and a meal or two, and perhaps we could have the other[s] together if you happen to be able to make yourself free. I am relieved beyond words to find that you are well, as a matter of fact full, as it seems, of nice new energy. It’s a break from the sad news I have had from all around lately. Thank you for your good letter, dear et, à bientôt.



Gabrielle

[Toronto,] August 30, 1969 Dear Gabrielle, The latest corrections and pages arrived some days ago – thank you. I am going through my translation, inking up the pages, and very soon will be through, will then reread and hope to do a final polish-typing and then have material to send to you (in large batches). Oddly enough your handwritten list of small corrections seems to have vanished from the scene.89 The day it came, I immediately transferred the corrections to your manuscript up to somewhere around90 page 120 – you may 89 This is an undated letter-list of modifications made by GR to the manuscript of La rivière sans repos and the accompanying short stories as JM was translating them (see appendix B). It may have been sent along with GR’s letter of 21 August, or a few days later, though presumably no later than the 26th or the 27th. 90 In left-hand margin, JM has added: my memory may not be exact – you probably remember the gap of a fair number of pages

30 August 1969

43

remember there was a large gap during which you made no changes. As I was somewhere around that point in my own work, I put your sheet aside, thinking I’d make the changes when I came to them. And now ... well, it will probably turn up and may have got tucked in with my own work. I remembered one change – in the passage about the young seal: it no longer pokes its head through the ice. And I know also that you added a sentence on page 198 (about the decision to return to Fort Chimo) – I wish you would consider this last again. It is so excellent just as it is, so clear and so artistic – I was particularly impressed by it when I read the book first and still am impressed by it. Willa Cather (I think) wrote somewhere (I am paraphrasing): ‘Only what we do not put on the page have we truly created’.91 The whole sequence is lovely as it stands – we know the decision was made and made right then (because of the shadow). Don’t spoil it. Meanwhile, don’t send the other (later) changes to me again unless I ask – I’m pretty sure they’ll turn up. I’m delighted you think of coming here. I’d like it so much and it would be a help for our final work: all my dictionaries (too many and in some cases too big to transport) will be here and that will help. I can get you a room at the Westbury, quite a pleasant new hotel eight or ten minutes walk from here – M.Z. liked it and said she will write to you. It has restaurants and a coffee shop. I shall certainly make myself entirely free for you and, though I may not want to do much cooking (except for snacks) while we’re working, (though I love cooking) we can go out – there’s a nice French restaurant a block away (as well as other good places). Now about time ... I ought to be able to set an approximate date by next week end (Sept 6-7). Meanwhile, what would you think of the first week in October (the week starting with October 6)? I hesitate to be even that definite until I see what the translation looks like to me upon full and close rereading.

91 American writer Willa Cather (1873–1947). Her exact words were: ‘Whatever is felt upon the page without being specifically named there – that, one might say, is created. It is the inexplicable presence of the thing not named, of the overtone divined by the ear but not heard of it, the verbal mood, the emotional aura of the fact or the thing or the deed, that gives high quality to the novel or the drama, as well as to poetry itself’ (‘The Novel Démeublé’ [1922], reprinted in Willa Cather, On writing: Critical Studies on Writing and Art [New York: Knopf, 1949], 41).

44

4 September 1969

It is very hot (this is bound to improve) and, though I find I can carry on in a sort of inky sweaty stew, the mechanics of typing even this letter seems to send my temperature mounting. So if I sound a bit garbled, that is why. We are due for thunder and then the air will clear. à bientôt, affectionately, Joyce P.S. I imagine that Oct 13 is Thanksgiving – you might want that week end for P.-R.92 & prefer to come later? I am assuming that when (if) you come, it won’t just be a mad dash & that you’ll allow some days for fun & exploration. By then I’ll probably be inspired to make an apple dessert (my speciality, rhubarb, is not, alas!, in season!) & there are so many things I want to show you.



Quebec, September 4, 1969 Dear Joyce, Don’t worry too much about the mislaid corrections. You will probably find them. But if you don’t, there is no cause for worry: I have them all inscribed on my own pages. However, I could not retrace them easily for, by now, I can’t quite remember which of these corrections were made quite some time ago, and which recently. Still this doesn’t make much difference, and we can straighten that up together, as we go along, when we can check, page after page. So I better not send you any more corrections until you are finished with your final writing. You may be right about the sentence page 198 about the decision to return to Fort-Chimo.93 My first movement, as often is the case, may have been the best. And I agree freely with your citation of the admira-

92 Petite-Rivière-Saint-François. 93 GR agreed with JM in the end; neither the French nor the English published version contains the additional material. See appendix B for the complete passage and its translation.

4 September 1969

45

ble Willa Cather. I added this little sentence merely, because as I read this passage aloud to a friend who heard the story for the first time, she was so startled and exclaimed: ‘What! They now are on their way back. Isn’t [this] rather sudden!’ But she may have been all wrong. Anyhow we will consider that together, the two of us. I am more and more tempted to go visiting you in Toronto. Don’t worry about not letting me know much in advance. A week will do nicely. You can even ring me up three or four days before. The only thing that might stop me from coming, as far as I can see now, is my foot. But I am seeing my doctor to day and shall learn whether I shall have to be operated or not. Perhaps I shall go on wearing a special shoe for a while yet, and with such a shoe it really isn’t too bad at all.94 Thank you for your lovely letter, and mostly for being well and cheerful again. Seeing the weather is continuing so lovely, I think that I shall go back to Petite for another week, coming back for good to Quebec around September 13th. Don’t feel that you have to set a date now. Mid October, even late October would suit me. And if you are still not ready then we will postpone the date. Thanksgiving week-end might be good, for I do not have to go back to Petite. Marcel can go alone to tend his roses before the winter. The difficulty about this week-end is that trains will probably be packed. Above all, don’t worry about cooking. If I mentioned that I would like to keep a dinner date with you, it was only with the idea that we would consider ourselves free to eat to gether at night, here and there according to your choice. Yes, I would like to look around Toronto with you and alone. See the city. Sights more than anything else.



Affectionately yours Gabrielle

94 GR had a problem with one of her feet. She eventually had surgery on it in January 1970 (see François Ricard, Gabrielle Roy: A Life, 424, and GR–JM, 14 and 29 January 1970).

46

28 September 1969

105 Isabella St. [, Toronto] Sept. 28, 1969 Dear Gabrielle, At least I can see an end and can write to you about your coming. I hope you still think you will be able to come and haven’t had to have an operation on your foot – M.Z. wrote that you’ve been visiting her in the hospital (what an accident for her to have!) so that suggests you are on your feet at least.95 You said in your last letter that Thanksgiving week end might be a suitable time for you. The only thing against that is that I may not be able to send all the ms for you to read before you arrive. I think you might find Thursday (Oct 9) an easier day for the train than Friday. I hope to mail the 3 short stories on Wednesday of this week (which ought to get them to you on time for the week end). I will mail an additional batch on Friday (to reach you Monday) but that would be the last day I would risk mailing, under present postal conditions, if you were leaving on the Thursday. In other words, there would be an additional 30 or 40 pages to read after you got here. Perhaps you would prefer to wait and read everything before you come. In that case, I would mail off the last by Tuesday of next week, barring flood, fire, famine or any other catastrophe that might intervene. You must do what best suits you. As far as I am concerned, I shall be ready on and after Thursday of next week. Think it over and see what train reservations you can make. If you’d like to call me when you decide – I am home most of the time except for small errands – I will then make your hotel reservation for you. McClelland and Stewart would rather like to have the manuscript by the end of October. I told the managing editor when she called last week that we would do our best – and that is all we can do. I made no mention of your coming here, though Jack, of course, will want to see you. If we can go through the mss at around the time I mention, that still leaves time for the extra typing I shall have to do. They will do editing there – it will all be discussed with us – and any extra ideas from us can still be added during that time. (I am thinking of last time.) I do hope you will come. I am looking forward to it and with luck the weather will be pleasant for walks etc. By the way, you won’t need to bring any books. I have bought the 95 See previous note regarding GR’s operation. M.Z. appears to have broken her leg, as GR refers to her ‘cast’ in GR–JM, 4 December 1969.

2 October 1969

47

new edition of Roget96 – A REAL TREASURE – and still have the old one (the edition you have) so there will be one for each of us to riffle through and you can take one or the other if (or when) you want to do a little work on your own. I also have a fair supply of French-English and just plain English dictionaries. I found the sheet with your last corrections, incidentally, so am right up to date with that, I think! I shall hope to hear from you soon. And remember – if you want to travel up here in the middle of the week end (such as on the Saturday or the Sunday) that is equally all right with me. Or the Tuesday or the Wednesday etc etc etc!



all the best for now, Joyce

Quebec, October 2, 1969

Dear Joyce, My foot should be alright, I’ve just had a shot of cortisone, and the good effe[c]ts shall last about a month, or a little longer.97 So I’ll very likely go to Toronto – joyously so – not quite as soon, though, as you mention in your letter. I would prefer to be finished – or almost finished – with the first reading of the translation before leaving and besides, I don’t think I could be ready to go before the middle of the month or somewhere around there. In any case, as soon as I see my way clearly, I shall write again or, if time is short, telephone. I am very pleased to hear that you are so near the end of your work, and can hardly believe it – you have been going at an extraordinary speed. Don’t let McClelland & Stewart extract any promise of deadline from you, though, until both of us together decide that we can acquiesce. I cannot bear, either, to be rushed. Naturally, when in Toronto, I shall be most happy to see Jack as a friend, but no parties please, nothing of the sort. My time shall be full otherwise, with work, and if there is time to spare, with leisurely visits of the city in your company. I am looking forward to that part of the program very much. That will be more than sufficient with my little store of energy. Otherwise I would tire so completely that I would have no fun at all. 96 Roget’s Thesaurus of English Words and Phrases. 97 See note 94.

48

Early October 1969

Yes that accident of M.Z. was unbelievable.98 She is picking up beautifully though. I telephoned yesterday. She herself answered the phone, is in the house and not in the studio, manages the stairs with her crutches, enjoys her house, has her meals brought in, doesn’t seem despondent at all. I admire her spirit. When she was at the Quebec hospital l’Enfant-Jésus, terribly out of the way for me, I managed to visit her twice and Marcel went once. Fortunately she had Marion Wilson99 who was a wonderful help. Well, dear Joyce, I shall be looking forward to receiving the first pages of the translation. We shall have to set our minds on finding an appropriate title – in English – for La rivière ... very soon I suppose. Or have you already hit upon something. Am most eager to see you



Yours affectionately Gabrielle

[Early October 1969]100 Dear Gabrielle, I will send you a revised & retyped page 1 with the next lot. You’ll notice various marks in the margin. These mean: (1) These are passages I will continue to work on. OR

(2) These are passages I want to discuss with you. So do not fuss over these spots unless something comes straight to your mind. I will go over the whole ms closely again (several times) before we work at it.



Affectionately, Joyce

98 See note 95. 99 A close friend of M.Z.’s. 100 This is an undated, handwritten note that appears to have accompanied a first batch of translated pages. The dates of this note and the following three are not certain, but the references to Thanksgiving 1969, to JM’s letter of 28 September 1969, and to batches of pages already sent, give some indication of the order in which the notes were sent.

Early October 1969

49

[Early October 1969] Dear Gabrielle, I hope my letter reached you – also the previous lot of mss. I now see that my fantasy about next Thursday was ... rather a fantasy. But I look forward to hearing your thoughts & will call you early in the week if some word doesn’t come from you. Again I emphasize, do not struggle with the passages I’ve marked (in fact with any passages). We will discuss all this together. Just note the parts you don’t like.



affectionately (& in a rush!) Joyce

[Early October 1969] Dear Gabrielle, 2nd to last installment. I will send the last over the week end – by special delivery if post office is closed. So you should have both on Tuesday. I will then have time for a number of close re-readings before the end of the week. Professor Schack (sp?)101 phoned yesterday. He had heard you were coming (from a colleague) & is writing to you about a scheme of his. I did my best to save you (from the scheme) by words about how busy we would be, but of course could not. But he sounds very nice & sympathetic. Let me know your plans.



affectionately, Joyce

101 University of Toronto professor Ben-Zion Shek, a specialist in Québécois and French-Canadian literature.

50

Late October/Early November 1969

[Late October/ early November 1969]102 This beautiful & tragic story – here are the last few pages. It overwhelms me at every reading, even when I am looking for small mistakes. An earlier lot went off on Thursday by registered mail. Joyce [card]

[Late October/early November 1969]103 Montréal, vendredi

Chère Joyce, Je suis arrivée sans trop de fatigue chez mes bonnes cousines qui m’hébergent le plus gentiment du monde. Je vous remercie de tout coeur pour votre accueil, spécialement d’être venue à ma rencontre et de m’avoir accompagnée à la gare d’autobus. Aussi, pour le merveilleux travail accompli ensemble. J’espère que le reste ira bien et ne vous posera pas trop de problèmes.104 I have looked in a dictionnary here for an equivalent of ‘désaxé ’ and have found nothing adequate. It just gives ‘out of joint’. As for le ‘piège non éventé,’ there is nothing but ‘secret is out’ so I’m afraid we’ll just have to have it simply as the ‘trap.’ Unless you come across another of these wonderful flashes of yours. I should be home towards the middle of the week. All in all, my stay in Toronto has been most satisfying and I am sure that it will leave me strong and lovable memories. Affectionately Gabrielle 102 The first part of this note is missing. 103 This note was written after GR’s return from Toronto, where she had been working with JM on the translation referred to in the preceding letters and notes. The most likely dates are 17, 24, or 31 October or 1 November. GR used the formal ‘vous’ with all her correspondents, apart from family members. The translation problem posed by ‘désaxé’ is discussed in the list accompanying JM–GR, 17 February 1970 (see appendix C). 104 ‘Dear Joyce, I arrived after a not too wearisome journey at the home of my kind cousins, who have put me up in the nicest possible way. I thank you with all my heart for your hospitality, and especially for coming to meet me, and seeing me off at the bus station. And for the marvellous work accomplished together. I hope the rest will go well and will not cause you too many problems.’

14 January 1970

51

[Along right-hand margin, GR has written:] Re: désaxé. If you could find a word meaning that all his life and not only the war are responsible for the quirks of his mind, all would be well.



Quebec, December 4, 1969

Dear Joyce, It’s so long now since I have heard from you that I am beginning to worry. Has something gone wrong with McClelland & Stewart regarding the manuscript? Or are you just plain overtired? Did you get my letter from Montreal, en route back home? I have seen M.Z. since my return and her leg is mending beautifully. She is now [out] of her cast and ought to be perfectly well in no time. I’m so glad for her.105 As I said in my first letter since my week in Toronto I came back with the most pleasant memories. Do let me know how you are



Affectionately yours Gabrielle

Quebec, January 14, 1970 My dear Joyce, I’m so sorry to see that you have been hit badly by an attack of flu. Let us hope that you will now begin to recuperate for good. As I told you over the phone, vitamins ought to help, specially vitamin C. Perhaps you could also try the combination A.B.C.D. On the other hand capsules of halibut oil, easier on the stomach than cod liver, are cheap and very efficacious. Do not feel that you have to answer my letters until you are much better. By now I am reassured and I can wait. Going over the titles you gave me yesterday, I can’t say that I’m fond of any. River beyond Time seems heavy to me and completely out of style. I see nothing there to catch attention. Windflower is still my favorite. If Jack wants to work the word River into the title, perhaps you could try something else with 105 See note 95.

52

29 January 1970

the idea of River to ... that is towards something. I’ll be searching my mind but it would be miraculous if I should hit something real good. Do look after yourself well, dear Joyce, and make sure that you sustain yourself properly with good red meat, to pick up energy. How about a steak every day for a while! If you could stomach rare (lean) ground meat (seasoned with a little lemon and perhaps oil as well as salt & pepper (even onion) and set to chill in the ice box), there is nothing better to restore strength and appetite. Yours affectionately Gabrielle How about using the name of the river Koksoak? Is it too wild? Too hard to pronounce? I’m going to the hospital to-day for that minor operation.106



Quebec, January 29, 1970

Dear Joyce, I’m so glad to hear that the raw ground meat did you good and brought back your appetite, and so pleased, dear, that you just didn’t brush aside my advice. So many people just don’t want to give a thought to the experience of others. I’ve been back from hospital, where I stayed five days, since a little over a week and the progress is steady but very slow. I guess I expected a miracle and am a little disappointed to see that I must proceed by careful steps. Still, by now I’m able, shod in Marcel’s very large and soft slippers, to slide around from my room to the living-room and kitchen and do away with the crutches which I hated, although, to be frank, I must say that on the day they enabled me to get by myself to the bathroom I looked upon them as an instrument of liberation. Very likely I’ll be quite well in another week or so. I’m a little afraid, right now, that I may have to renew all my shoes once more. I received a nice letter from Jack who is quite sure that it is best, in the interest of La rivière sans repos, but mostly in the end, for business reasons, I guess, to publish the novel alone. I think I agree entirely,

106 On her foot (see note 94).

10 February 1970

53

although I’m a little sad about the three stories,107 how to present them, what to do with them, for, after all, they are part of the story, of the theme, of the whole adventure. Looking at the French version yesterday, I came across a few passages which I mended slightly. These small changes may or may not affect your version. In any case, I’m sending you the pages with corrections. Jack doesn’t seem to care at all about Windflower. This is rather disappointing. I kind of liked that title. I have raked my mind for other ideas but nothing comes, for I have got in a groove. Only things like River to the Source (there is a slight hint there, perhaps, of light) River to Beginning River From Time River to Sea, River to Intent ... and such bla-bla ... River to Life ... Dear, do continue to look after yourself properly and eat well.



Yours affectionately Gabrielle

Quebec, February 10, 1970 Dear Joyce, I have just received, this morning, The Edible Woman108 and your two Wilson109 books. I am very much looking forward to the story you write about so charmingly. Your letter110 is very alive, very cordial and heart-warming as your letters always are when you are picking up health and energy, so I am pleased to conclude that you must be a lot better. Myself I am slowly mending, although I cannot yet go for a walk outside, but the pain, at night at least, is much less fierce. I shall have paid very dearly the joy of my good long hikes when I shall have recovered it.111 I am sure that you will hit upon a very good title one of these days, perhaps at the moment when you least expect it. Thank you again for 107 JM’s translations of the short stories accompanying the novel (see notes 58 and 122). The novel, Windflower, was duly published on its own in 1970. 108 The first novel by Margaret Atwood (b. 1939), published to critical acclaim in 1969. 109 Vancouver writer Ethel Wilson (1888–1980). Her books include the novels Hetty Dorval (1947) and Swamp Angel (1954) and the short story collection Mrs Golightly and Other Stories (1961). 110 This letter has not been found. 111 A reference to her recent operation (see GR–JM, 14 January 1970).

54

17 February 1970

your sweet letter. I enjoyed the part about your search in London112 and how right you were to write Ethel Wilson about it. Surely she must have been made happy by it (your letter). Affectionately yours Gabrielle Rereading your letter, I see that some of the books you sent have not arrived yet. No doubt they will come to-morrow. Nothing is more capricious than our mail these days. [Along top margin, GR has written:] I have just sat down to glance at ‘“So worthy a friend”,’113 and of course could not leave it alone so read it in a hurry. It is exquisite, so touching. Thank you for having drawn my attention to it.



[Toronto,] February 17, 1970 My dear Gabrielle, Many thanks for your delightful letter. I am so glad to hear that you aren’t having so much pain and hope that you will soon be able to tramp about again. I was happy also that you liked Ethel Wilson’s little sketch. How absurd it is for people to insist that Shakespeare did not really write his plays. How could he possibly have deceived those men who were his friends and co-workers? About as easily as you could deceive me, if you were getting your books from someone else. We need not entirely rule out Windflower as a title for the book. I just called our editor, Mrs Carolyn Radcliffe, to give her a few changes I wanted made in the manuscript and she feels that Windflower is the ideal title. There is to be an editorial meeting this afternoon and she will argue for that title – after all, she has been more closely through the story than anyone else but you and me, so she may succeed. She promised to let me know. I will list all the changes I have made and enclose them with this let-

112 A reference to JM’s successful attempt to find St Mary the Virgin Aldermanbury, a church that had been bombed during the London Blitz. 113 GR is referring to Ethel Wilson’s short story, ‘“To keep the memory of so worthy a friend,”’ published in Wilson’s Mrs Golightly and Other Stories.

19 February 1970

55

ter.114 At least I think it will be all of them – I tried to remember to mark G in the margin when I was making a new change but I may have forgotten once or twice. All are minor, usually a matter of avoiding repetition or adding smoothness. Let me know if there is anything you query or don’t approve. My translations of the two new passages may still be rather rough and capable of improvement. They are about to send the manuscript to the printer so I was anxious to get something down so I’d have enough words to play around with in the galleys. Mrs Radcliffe promises to let me know when the galleys will be ready so that we will have warning. I gather it may be rather soon. Well, I’ll drop you a line again as soon as I hear something about Windflower. And meanwhile I trust you continue to recover.



affectionately Joyce

[Quebec,] February 19, 1970 Dear Joyce, I have gone through your list of small changes rapidly, and all seem very good to me.115 I approve of ‘twisted’ to describe Jimmy in the end. It’s the perfect word. I also like the description of the baby seal on the ice-floes ‘at the world around’ seems so clear and good to me. There might be a possible amelioration page 169 2nd paragraph of the sentence ‘The dogs gave tongue ...’ although I’m not at all sure. It may be very good as it is. It gave me a lot of trouble and that may be the reason I pick at it. I see you are the true artist always, giving yourself endless pain over almost every word. Thank you for such consciousness.116 I have by now received all your books and thank you cordially. Strangely enough, I don’t at all feel like reading at the moment, having become lazy, horribly lazy. I hope that it will soon wear off. Thanks again, dear Joyce, and good luck in your last minute corrections. Affectionately Gabrielle

114 See appendix C for the list in question. 115 See appendix C. 116 GR probably means ‘conscientiousness.’

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20 February 1970

P.S. About the dogs, it may be the summons from the unknown. I don’t care about, chiefly, unknown perhaps.117 If you could express it in somewhat a newer form, I should be delighted – but don’t trouble yourself if it doesn’t come to you. As I said before, it’s not at all bad as it is. [Along top of first page, between date and salutation, GR has written:] I am now able to go for little walks in front of the Château St-Louis.118



Quebec, February 20, 1970

Dear Joyce, Yesterday, in my haste to send you my letter, I forgot to discuss the title. There is no doubt, I think, that Windflower is pleasant as a title, pleasant to the eye and ear. To the imagination also, I presume, up to a point. It does not however convey the depth of meaning of sans repos which is so much closer to the main theme of the story. Still if the others agree with Windflower, I may be won over. Last night, I tried other titles. Such as Turbulent River As a long fluid voyage Voyage along the sky All silly, but they may suggest something better to you. Then one might find something analogous to Old Man River Toiling River, Straining River But I suppose that you have gone over all that. Well good luck, dear, et à bientôt Affectueusement Gabrielle Some of my friends think highly of Restless River



117 The punctuation in the original letter is unclear. Another reading would be: ‘About the dogs, it may be the summons from the unknown I don’t care about. Chiefly, unknown, perhaps.’ 118 The name of GR’s apartment building, where she and Marcel Carbotte lived from their arrival in Quebec City in 1952 until their deaths (in 1983 and 1989 respectively).

25 March 1970

57

Quebec, February 23, 1970 Dear Joyce, You must have laughed – or groaned – at my suggestions for a title. Here is another one, perhaps better. What do you think of Far River Am enjoying Ethel Wilson.



À bientôt Gabrielle

[Toronto,] March 25, 1970

Dear Gabrielle, I’m sorry to be a bit remiss again about writing. I have been trying hard to think of some title with the River concept – but without success. Restless River just isn’t suitable. I can’t quite put my finger on the reason for this. It’s a matter of tone – a sort of heavy literalness. I’ve discussed the matter, and offered various suggestions, to Carolyn Radcliffe, our editor at M & S. She is absolutely sold on Windflower as a title and, the more I think of it, the more I agree – even though it is a different concept. It expresses the meaning of the story on so many levels, especially if you think of wind and flower separately as well as together. And after all a wind is a sort of river – in some senses at least. Everyone up there now agrees and would have this for the title (unless of course you absolutely disagree). I have tried the little experiment of asking several people the simple question: ‘What do you think of Windflower as the title for a book?’ All felt that it had evocation and mystery and aroused interest and curiosity. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to do something better with river. It’s been used so much Of Time and the River119 etc. This is one of the difficulties. I gather that the first 10 galleys have come through and that sets are in the mail to us both. I understand that they will come through in

119 Of Time and the River is a novel by American writer Thomas Wolfe (1900–38); it was first published in 1935.

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10 April 1970

small lots. I know that I will be making some corrections and I suppose the best thing will be for me to send a corrected set to you. I’ll decide, when I start at them, what is best to do. If there are only a few changes I might just list them. Now that the weather is sometimes fairly springlike, I have found a number of new interesting walks in the neighbourhood – various parks, ravines etc as well as simply streets. And speaking of walks, I do hope you are now able to do more than pace up and down in front of the apartment. In haste, Joyce re title again – Why don’t you give two or three days simply to the thought of Windflower? I honestly think it suits the book beautifully. Of course, if you can’t consent, we will simply have to find something else. And to return to ‘restless’ – it’s quite all right as a word but, as part of a title, I’m afraid the two identical vowel sounds have an unfortunate effect. ‘Straining’, ‘Toiling’ etc are even heavier. I’ve run the whole gamut – unresting, unending, endless, unsleeping and so on and on to mere lunacy. I had also, before your suggestion, tried to do something about sky or rim of the sky or horizon – all hopeless. Carolyn Radcliffe thinks that all such titles are too explicit and lack the many-layered effect of Windflower.

 [4s x 6s card]

Quebec, April 10, 1970

Dear Joyce, I hope to find time to write you a note shortly. I like Windflower more and more. I feel that the book should be divided clearly in three parts unless the editor absolutely objects to it. Affectionately yours Gabrielle Joyce, dear, would you kindly send me Ethel Wilson’s address if you

28 April 1970

59

should happen to know it, for I wish to send her a note as I so enjoyed reading her two books which you lent me. G. [Along top margin, GR has written:] I feel sorry about your aunt Diddy as you are sad, I know, about my dear, wonderful ‘Dédette’.120



[Toronto,] April 28, 1970

Dear Gabrielle, Thanks for sending back the galleys and for your note. I have been wondering how things are with your sister and hope you will keep me advised when it is convenient for you to do so. Ethel Wilson’s address is: Suite 308 2890 Point Grey Road Vancouver 8 I’m sure she will be delighted to hear from you as I understand that her life is quite restricted now. I reminded them at M and S about the division of the book into 3 parts. This will be followed and I marked in the divisions on the galleys just in case. I also pointed out your comment about the spaces and marked those very carefully as well. I made a few changes here and there, for clarity, to eliminate repetitions etc. I spent some time trying to get a better equivalent for ‘criaillerie’ and finally settled on ‘commotion’ which is a somewhat more vivid word than ‘noise’.121 I just couldn’t find a word giving the sort of wrangling that you suggested.

120 JM’s maternal aunt, Mildred (Chambers) Little, known as ‘Aunt Diddy,’ had recently died. GR’s sister, Bernadette (1897–1970), was dying of cancer. ‘Dédette,’ as she was known in the family, was a member of the teaching order of the Soeurs des Saints Noms de Jésus et de Marie. She was the inspiration for the character ‘Odette,’ in ‘Un bout de ruban jaune’ (‘A Bit of Yellow Ribbon’), a chapter of GR’s novel Rue Deschambault (Street of Riches). The letters GR wrote to her have been collected in Ma chère petite soeur: Lettres à Bernadette, 1943–1970 (1999); translated by Patricia Claxton as Letters to Bernadette (1990). 121 See appendix C for the changes discussed in this letter.

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28 April 1970

All possibilities – nagging, bickering etc – are too irascible and give a more bad-tempered note than I feel you want. There are a couple of changes right at the beginning that I want to point out to you. For instance, I felt that the reference to the Wheeler Company was too blunt now that we no longer have the reference to it in the earlier story.122 So I have changed the 2nd paragraph to read: ‘... the old hangar abandoned by the air charter company, with its ...’ Also 4 paragraphs below: M and S wanted to run this onto the previous paragraph. So 5th paragraph now reads: ‘So the pure ... favourable to love. Except, in a pinch, ... ’ (I have eliminated a ‘perhaps’, which was redundant, and ‘at a pinch’ was my mistake!) I had always been troubled by the last sentence in this paragraph, which seemed to me not really clear in English, and finally had an idea how to improve it. It now reads: ‘On the other hand, they grew stiflingly close, they too driven by that inexorable law of nature: the more hostile the conditions, the fiercer the struggle to multiply.’ This was a sentence that you yourself rewrote more than once and I think I have at least in part gone back to one of your earlier versions with ‘conditions’. But the trouble with my original version was the two rather ambiguous ‘it’s, which might refer to ‘law’ as well as to ‘nature’. I gather that the pages will come through in proof before very much longer so I will be able to be absolutely sure of the spaces etc. And of course I will still be able to make any necessary changes and have a final look at the ms as a whole. I felt, by the way, that it read extremely well with a good rhythm and pace. It is lovely here now and I have had some good walks. It’s too bad you aren’t here. I am greatly worried, however, about Wednesday. Will we have any country left that is worth the name after the votes are counted?123 I got so alarmed last night in bed that I assured myself that if separation took place I would never visit Quebec again as I wouldn’t be able to bear having to show a passport in order to be admitted to my native place. And then I said: No, I will go and I will walk around flatfootedly talking English at the top of my voice – like the worst and

122 The Wheeler Company is mentioned in the short story ‘The Telephone,’ originally intended to accompany the novel (along with ‘The Satellites’ and ‘The Wheelchair’), but dropped as a result of a marketing decision (see GR–JM, 29 January 1970). 123 A reference to the upcoming Quebec election; see note 124.

1 May 1970

61

crassest sort of tourist there is! Ah well, it’s not funny. But I’ll be glad when Wednesday is over. affectionately Joyce If you have any comments on my changes above, let me know so that they can be fixed on the pages. Did you hear the good news that M.Z. has made up with M. Chassé?



Quebec, May 1st 1970

Dear Joyce, My lovely Dédette, once so alive, still hangs on ... most piteously and in great pain. I am imploring Heaven to release her. Thanks for the corrections. They all seem extremely good. I think ‘commotion’ is perfect. I’m also glad about the ‘air charter company’ and the other change. Thanks, dear, for taking this work so much at heart. I had heard about M.Z. making up with the Madeleines and am pleased. We can little afford to lose old friends as we advance in years. I too, before Wednesday night,124 lived all tied up in a dreadful knot. Now it seems that we can breathe in peace for a while, which is not saying that we are through with the ills and dangers of fanaticism. Still there is hope now for Canadians of good will. Dear Joyce, always, I hope, you will feel that you can tread in freedom and joy the soil of your native province. Most affectionate regards Gabrielle Thanks for Ethel Wilson’s address and for having introduced me to so delightful a writer.



124 GR is referring to the 29 April 1970 Quebec elections, the first since the founding of the Parti Québécois. The Parti Québécois, led by René Lévesque (1922–87), garnered 23.1 per cent of the popular vote, taking second place to the Liberal Party, led by Robert Bourassa (1933–96), with 45.4 per cent of the popular vote.

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10 May 1970

Quebec, May 10, 1970 Dear Joyce, I’m sending you to day the two Ethel Wilson’s as well as Black Lamb and Grey Falcon.125 I have enjoyed the lot, mostly some of Wilson’s stories which I find pure delight. I have just received an answer from her to my letter. Poor soul, she does seem very ill, forlorn and diminished. Apparently my letter was an event in a life of sickness and loneliness. Sometimes we are truly inspired to send a letter at just the right moment, one might say. Perhaps I did just that, although I was merely acquitting myself of a debt of gratitude for so much pleasure given by her writing – at her best of a haunting quality. My Dédette still hangs on. It is almost unbelievable. For the last three weeks I have expected to receive the news of her death at any moment. Under the effect of so much drugs she even at times believes that she is picking up, that she may recover temporarily. Her thin, wasted little face haunts me night and day. I know that I shall be relieved when she departs from this world. She is the most religious of us all in our family and she is the one to cling most passionately to this world. But perhaps there is no contradiction here, after all.



Affectionately yours Gabrielle

Quebec, May 22, 1970 Dear Joyce, I received your very sweet letter and am hastening to reply, should the strike occur. Threats of postal strikes, I have noticed, have a good effe[c]t: they induce people to write and write like mad. Just as under threats of strikes in the food business, they stock up canned goods. Poor we!

125 Black Lamb and Grey Falcon: A Journey through Yugoslavia, by the English writer Rebecca West (1892–1983), was first published in 1941.

26 May 1970

63

Yes, my Dédette still lingers on, as you put it, and the word is perfect. I telephoned yesterday and was told that my letters were read to her, bit by bit, and that she was not in great pain. Perhaps this is true, perhaps not. These nuns, although they fight pain, do not look upon it as you and I, not quite at least, since they believe that it can be applied to the needs of others and changed, on their behalf, into blessings. Hence pain is not thoroughly an enemy in their mind. And perhaps it isn’t for all we know! Yes, later on, when the mail is safer, I would like to receive the other Wilson’s books. Her writing has a rare charm which stays in one’s memory, at least it does with me. Joyce, I think I forgot to tell you that I would like a short paragraph at the outset of the book as a warning that the characters and situations are fictitious. I cannot lay my hands on a copy of the French version – at the printer’s just now – but it goes to say that although much of the materials of the book, gathered during a trip to Ungava, are true, they nonetheless have been treated to form a web of fiction. There is no need at all to go into details. But I believe that such a mise au point is necessary when the action of a book, such as in Windflower, is set in a given place under its proper name, and that people living there may put it into their heads that they are being alluded to – all silly, but it does happen occasionally. So, will you see to it that a few lines take care of that matter. By the way I like the title more and more. Yours affectionately Gabrielle If anything is to be done with the three short stories, later on, we will go over them once more, shall we, as we did with the novel?



Quebec, May 26 1970

Dear Joyce, My Dédette died yesterday morning accompanied to the last moment by the chant of her loving sisters gathered in her tiny cubicle and overflowing in the long, narrow corridors. She is to be buried tomorrow night at seven. She is gone, as we say, and yet present as she has never been all over the sky and the world, for me and perhaps for

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13 June 1970

quite a few others. That is all I can write now. I thought you would like to hear of her passing away. I feel forlorn and yet relieved that she has left her racked body. Do not feel that you have to answer this letter. A thought for her, for me ... that is all I need.



Affectionately Gabrielle

[Toronto,] June 13, 1970

Dear Gabrielle, Can you believe your last letter took so long to arrive. It must have got stranded in one of those box-cars one reads of piling up as there are strikes here and there. Otherwise I would certainly have written before now about your sister. Not that there is anything to say, except that I think I do understand. This world always seems to be colder after our own particular people have left it though one does get more used eventually to being accompanied by just our sense and recollection of the person. I have our pages now and I guess you have too. At least they seem to have mailed you a set. I am making just a few very very tiny textual changes – and then of course there are errors the printer has made while correcting earlier errors. I hope you are well and that you will understand why I did not write sooner. My thoughts are with you and indeed were so even before I heard the final news. You will forgive me, I know, for not writing a ‘letter of sympathy’ by hand on good stationery as we were all brought up to do.



Affectionately yours, Joyce

[Toronto,] June 18, 1970

Dear Gabrielle, It was so nice to talk to you. I called M and S first thing this morning and so Windflower will now go straight away into print. They seem very pleased about it and also about the chances of US publication.

23 June 1970

65

(Publication date here, by the way, in case you haven’t heard, is September 19. That is nice and early to give chance of plenty of reviews in good time for Christmas shopping.) By the way, as I passed a bookshop yesterday, I saw a paperback of Ethel Wilson’s first book Hetty Dorval. It seemed to be the only copy they had and is a bit shabby-looking (which was why it was in a great mess of ‘book bargains’) but I thought you might like to have it. I’ll send it along today. Some of the individual scenes are slightly less subtle than she might have made them later but it is charmingly written with that special quality of hers. A little later I will send you a couple more of my own on loan as I promised. After we see if this one gets through! I hope by now you have received my earlier letter, which was addressed to Quebec. And that you are not feeling too lonely. Although, of course, one simply has to go through these things. There are no shortcuts. Drop me a line when you get a chance. And take good care of yourself. affectionately, Joyce The only address I have for you is care of Berthe. (Please remember me to her, by the way.) I know there is something more formal but I don’t seem to have it.



Petite-Rivière[-St-François], June 23, 1970

Dear Joyce, I received your two lovely letters also the book. Thank you so much. Both letters were a great comfort, far more than I could have had from a formal note of sympathy. I liked the expression ‘our own particular people’. It is so true of Dédette. The pain of having lost her eases a little at times. Perhaps I even forget it for brief moments and then come back to it with a feeling of shame. That we can go on living, even enjoying life, after having lost one so dear is unbelievable, a mystery in fact.

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15 July 1970

I telephoned M.Z. day before yesterday. She said she is fine now. I wonder. There seemed to me that there was a sort of bravado in her voice. I have heard that she drinks quite a lot ... don’t know at all for sure if this is true. I hope not, for with her disease if she does she is heading for serious trouble. As you quoted once: ‘Life is a difficult country ...’126 Berthe is well. She and I often talk about you. We remember with pleasure the ‘summer Joyce came to live in the presbytère.’ I very much hope to see you this summer and wish you a happy season



Affectionately Gabrielle

[Toronto,] July 15, 1970 Dear Gabrielle, I was glad to hear from you and to know my letters and the book arrived safely. I hope you are feeling better. It is true that we betray the dead by every day we go on living. But isn’t that also what they would want? I think it is what I’d want. I had been troubled by not hearing anything from M.Z. but a letter came yesterday. She sounded happy and excited by her role as cattlebreeder. However, one comment worried me: that she had ‘given up her low-fat non-alcoholic diet and felt fine.’ One cannot say anything, I suppose, but I hope she is not making a serious mistake. I was wakened this morning by a thunderstorm out of a tangled dream involving you, me, Marcel and a small but very obstreperous black cat. I can’t remember much of it except that we were staying in a large house with very many rooms and beds. But the cat kept going from room to room, occupying the centre of the bed and forcing the occupant out. What such a thing could mean I cannot imagine.

126 ‘Life “... is a difficult country, and our home”’ is the epigraph to Ethel Wilson’s collection of short stories, Mrs Golightly and Other Stories. The fragment quoted by Wilson is taken from ‘The Difficult Land’ (One Foot in Eden, 1956), a poem by Scottish writer Edwin Muir (1887–1959).

6 October 1970

67

As you see, I really do not have anything much to say today but thought I would write to make sure you have not been molested by small black animals of any sort.



Affectionately, Joyce

Petite-Rivière[-St-François] July 19th 1970 Dear Joyce, I’m hastening to reassure you. I don’t think there is anything premonitory about your dream of a black cat. At least so far. But it does apply strangely to a charming reality. We have acquired – from Berthe – a sweet kitten, black and white, and it has already taken possession calmly of the best cushion, the best chair, and, when possible, of my bed. Let us hope that your dream means nothing worse. About M.Z., I hear contradictory rumors; that she drinks too much ... that she doesn’t all that much. I am a little worried. Affectionately Gabrielle Marcel sends his warm wishes. He’s quite well this summer.

[on motel letterhead]



Winnipeg, October 6, 1970

Dear Joyce, It seems that there is no end to illness in my family this year. I am back to Manitoba to visit my sister-in-law127 who had a very serious operation. She is now improving and I am relieved. Marcel doesn’t fare much better. He has left Quebec – more or less in exile – along with 40 or 50% of the Quebec medical specialists in a movement of protest against the stand of the government on Medi-

127 Antonia Roy (née Houde), the wife of GR’s brother Germain.

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care.128 I think he is still in Ottawa and may go to Toronto, in which case I asked him to give you a ring. On the phone, last week, he told me there was a letter from you, and a newspaper clipping enclosed. He said he was forwarding it to me, but I haven’t received a thing. Either he forgot or it was lost on the way. Too bad, I would have enjoyed both, specially your letter. If you have time to write, please address care of my sister-in-law. Should I move away from this hotel, she can forward my mail. Yes, I thought the jacket of Windflower very attractive indeed – this in answer to your letter of seven or eight weeks ago. Affectionately yours Gabrielle c/o Mrs. Antonia Roy 25 Langside street, apt 6 Winnipeg, Man.

[on motel letterhead]



Winnipeg, October 21st 1970

Dear Joyce, I received your dear letter yesterday. I also have had your card from Switzerland.129 Also the first letter sent to Montreal along with the clipping. My sick relatives are mending. Slowly I’m emerging from a pit of trouble – personal trouble to find myself, like you, caught in that whirlwind of emotion which the kidnappings, and the murder of Pierre

128 In 1970, Quebec’s National Assembly passed a series of laws creating free medical insurance for all Quebeckers (free hospital care had been available since 1961). Quebec’s medical specialists – Marcel Carbotte was a gynaecologist – went on strike in the autumn of that year to protest against the plan, seen as threatening physicians’ autonomy. 129 JM had been to Berne, en route to Oslo. On her way there, she ‘was detained for hours in Zurich as all flights in Europe were cancelled while Arab terrorists were being gathered from here and there to be exchanged for passengers of a plane that had been downed somewhere in the desert.’ (JM, letter to Jane Everett, 31 August 2001.) This is a reference to the diversion of five commercial airliners to Jordan by hijackers; the 400 passengers were exchanged for suspected terrorists being held prisoner.

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Laporte have unleashed.130 Still, I’m wondering if this is not the bursting of the abscess and if we shall not now see a cleaning up of the wound. But the healing, I suppose, is not for tomorrow. Dear, I have seen this coming for so long, unable to share my fears with anyone around me, who kept saying: ‘oh, you dramatize too much, oh surely things are not that bad ...’ that, in a sense, these terrible happenings have not surprised me greatly. I shall write later when I have more news. Right now, I have kept busy looking after my sick.131 Occasionally I have caught moments of happiness, here, as happy memories of my childhood drifted to my mind. But most of the time I feel a stranger here now. I may go South later on for a spell. You can always reach me through the address I gave you, of my sister-in-law. Thanks for writing so promptly, dear. It looks as if Windflower will be either this or that according to the mind of the readers. Well, you and I have done our best. What else can one do.



Affectionately yours Gabrielle

130 GR is referring to the October Crisis, which Linteau, Durocher, Robert, and Ricard describe in the following terms: ‘An FLQ [Front de libération du Québec] cell abducted a British diplomat posted to Montreal, James Richard Cross. Its demands included the freeing of political prisoners and the dissemination of a manifesto outlining the FLQ’s position. The authorities refused to negotiate, and another cell kidnapped Quebec Labour Minister Pierre Laporte, who was found dead a few days later. Quebec was plunged into a crisis of unprecedented seriousness. The Quebec and Canadian governments decided to stand firm against the FLQ. Troop reinforcements were called into Quebec, and then Ottawa proclaimed the War Measures Act [16 October 1970], substantially restricting democratic rights. Thousands of searches were undertaken and hundreds of people were arrested. Two months after Cross was abducted, his kidnappers were located by the police and obtained safe conduct to Cuba in exchange for freeing the diplomat’ (Paul-André Linteau, René Durocher, Jean-Claude Robert, and François Ricard, Quebec since 1930, trans. Robert Chodos and Ellen Garmaise [Toronto: James Lorimer and Company, Publishers, 1991], 527). JM notes: ‘I read of Cross’s kidnapping in a paper I found on a table in Berne and heard about Laporte over the radio in Oslo. When I’d changed planes in Montreal on my way home, my seat-companion told me there were soldiers in the streets of Mtl.’ (JM, letter to Jane Everett, 31 August 2001.) 131 A literal translation of ‘mes malades,’ meaning here ‘my sick relatives.’

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Quebec, December 4, 1970 Dear Joyce, Jean Remple in her review on Windflower in The Montreal Star of nov. 28th concludes a rather good piece with the following: ‘Translations of La Guerre, Yes Sir, by Sheila Fischman132 and Windflower by Joyce Marshall are excellent. The latter’s perceptive rendering of Gabrielle Roy’s simple but vivid language is little short of superb.’133 The reviews on the whole continue to be very baffling, some praising it extensively, for instance the write-up of the rather exacting Jean Éthier-Blais134 of Le Devoir, others almost hating it. (The French version, that is.) I seem to do nothing but travel this year and travel of a rather wearying kind. This time, however, I’m leaving for a month or so to Phoenix, Arizona where a sweet niece of mine135 has found me a small apartment near hers where I may be able to have a real rest at last. The other trips were just killing. It’s ages since I have heard from you. You did not even have a chance to tell me about your trip to Europe, because immediately following your return we were steeped in the affair Cross-Laporte. Fortunately Mr. Cross has been rescued. I hope your health and spirit are good. If you write after the 15th of this month, I wish you would address your letter to Phoenix. Marcel is slowly mending from the fatigue, shock and pain of the strike and general atmosphere of hatred to which the specialists were submitted. I do not wish to take their side completely, but I can see that a lot of harm was done to the best among them. Our times are slipping more and more in the ties and tyranny of bureaucracy and Quebec more so, I feel, than any other country. Sometimes I have the feeling of being ‘dans une maison de fous.’136

132 Literary translator and critic Sheila Fischman. La Guerre, Yes Sir! is by Roch Carrier (b. 1937). 133 Jean Remple, ‘In Translation, Nothing Is Lost,’ Montreal Star, 28 November 1970, 63. 134 Jean Éthier-Blais (1925–95), a writer of novels, short stories, and essays, and a professor of French and Quebec literature. His literary column appeared regularly in Le Devoir (Montreal) from 1961 to 1983. The review in question was entitled ‘Gabrielle Roy: une lecture émouvante et mélancolique,’ Le Devoir, 28 November 1970, 12. 135 Léontine Painchaud. She was married to Fernand Painchaud, the son of GR’s sister Anna and her husband, Albert Painchaud. The couple and their two sons lived in Phoenix, Arizona.

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When last I heard from M.Z., she seemed sobered up for good – I hope – and fairly well. Will we meet before another year slips by? I would very much like to. Meantime Marcel and I both wish you a very good Christmas, dear Joyce, and a happy new year. Gabrielle c/o Mrs. Fernand Painchaud 1310 N. 48th Place Apt 3 Phoenix 85008 Arizona

 Phoenix, January 13th 1971

Dear Joyce, Just received your ‘bumpy’ letter which is not at all bumpy. You couldn’t write an uninteresting letter if you tried from morn to night. I agree with you: there is an authoritarianism in Quebec society at the time being. It is almost more now than latent.137 I have seen it gather strength lately. All sorts of nasty little signs tell. The doctors’ strike showed it up, I mean the repression on the part of the government ... other meaningful bits of repression here and there. I am quite afraid at times that our people may be caught between hot radicals on one side and harsh repressors on the other. Thanks for the good news about ‘persons’ who showed fondness for ‘our’ novel. It is strange: all reviews in the west, starting from Winnipeg, have been warm-hearted – some in the east too, but all in the west. Is that a sign of something? Quite a good number from Ontario which McClelland and Stewart have forwarded to me, along with others, are also interesting and to the point. The Globe and Mail’s review

137 This sentence is somewhat unclear. The ‘bumpy’ letter from JM to which GR refers has not been found. Presumably JM spoke of a ‘latent authoritarianism’ present in Quebec society. GR appears to be saying that this authoritarianism is not so much latent as real, manifest.

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signed Phyllis Grosskurth is vindictive.138 It was hard luck to be reviewed by that woman. She has been going at me with an axe since a year or so. Some professors co-professors of Grosskurth at Toronto University, have told me they don’t understand her intense dislike of poor me – it came all of a sudden after the publication of her little book on me. By all means burn the pile of revised, re-revised pages of the French manuscript. I have a copy of that pile myself. Sometimes the mere physical proof of our work does look ludicrous, doesn’t it? Hope you will settle nicely in your work. It must be difficult to do so with another person in the apartment however nice she may be.139 Good luck! My stay here is doing me a lot of good, specially improving my sinuses. I’ll try to stick it a few weeks longer. The air is really remarkably good, but I miss the ocean. All in all, Florida has more charm for me. Affectionately Gabrielle The great attraction here for me is my relatives who are really wonderful. [In top left-hand corner, GR has added:] Thanks also for the Christmas card.



138 Phyllis Grosskurth (b. 1924) was at the time a professor in the Department of English at the University of Toronto. Her monograph Gabrielle Roy (Toronto: Forum House, 1969) was the first book devoted entirely to Roy’s life and works. The review in question, entitled ‘Maternity’s Fond but Tedious Tune,’ was published in Globe Magazine, 19 September 1970, 20. ‘Gabrielle Roy,’ Grosskurth states towards the beginning, ‘has never really fulfilled the expectations aroused by that first novel [Bonheur d’occasion].’ The final paragraph reads: ‘Gabrielle Roy should be cherished for her refusal to be distracted by unnecessary complications from what she considers the basic essentials of human life. However, Windflower adds nothing new or significant to what she has written in the past. Even a well-loved tune can become tedious if played too often.’ 139 A friend of JM’s had been staying with her.

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[Toronto,] March 26, 1972 Dear Gabrielle, I should have written to you long ago. I kept meaning to but have not. There have been two slips of paper on my desk for a long time containing possibly interesting though not very valuable facts I wanted to tell you. One is simply a name – I no longer remember where I saw it but definitely he is a real person somewhere in P.Q. – Monsieur Apollinaire McLaglen. (Isn’t that charming?) The other refers to a plant we saw when I was in Petite – a great bunch of pleated-looking leaves coming from a single spot. I now think it may be hellébore (known also as tabac du diable). If so, it is poison. I met a woman at a party some time during the winter who spoke so well and understandingly of WINDFLOWER. It was really pleasant to hear someone who liked the book for what is its true essence – it is always pleasant to hear anyone speak so of any book, not just in blind or vague liking but really touching and knowing what the author intended. I wish you could have heard her. Such things come rarely. I hope you have had a good winter. I have been fine till an attack of flu two weeks ago; this is the first day, in fact, when I have felt like myself again and not some interloper. However, I remembered your advice last time about eating raw beef etc and it really helps. Please do not laugh at the enclosed140 – I could not resist it! Well, this is just a note to tell you I am still alive and always think about you, even when I do nothing about those thoughts.



All best wishes, Joyce

Quebec, April 4, 1972 Dear Joyce, Thank you heartily for the scented herbs which I will sew into a cloth bag and use in my bath, for once or perhaps twice as you cautiously mention. Thank you above all for your most delightful letter. I

140 ‘I’d sent her an envelope of dried basil, rosemary, thyme etc.’ (JM, letter to Jane Everett, 23 October 2000.)

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know no other writer whose letter-writing is so generous, sparing nothing as it were for a book or some more worth while purpose but giving her best and the pain of the complete effort – although of course the result seems effortless – to this lonely page destined to one person. So that this person, this friend is given a great sense of importance. Thank you for la trouvaille of Apollinaire McLaglen. It ends well our list: Malcolm Vachon, Warwick Laliberté, Ivanhoe Beaulieu. Perhaps if we all had such names we would be better Canadians or better neighbors. Let’s say your name would be Églantine Marshall or Joyce Chicoine, and I might be Gabrielle Mcpherson or Étiennette Roy. No, rather Shirley Roy. Some weeks back, perhaps a month or so ago, Jack McClelland came to see me in Québec accompanied by Laurier LaPierre,141 who is amusing, très drôle, though, I imagine devoid of sound judgment it may be. Anyhow we had a good time to-gether over an atrocious dinner at the Château Frontenac. I wondered if Jack had given news upon his return of me and of our conversation. He was in excellent mood, charming and it was lovely to be with him. He had been off drinks as he said for a month and something of the dear Jack of old was coming back to life. I’m afraid that he may not have had the will to persevere. Anyhow he mentionned that he was considering either a revised edition of The Tin Flute with corrections by you, or a completely new translation. He asked my advice. I said you might be the better judge of what should be done. In any case, something should be done, at least about such things as ‘poudrerie’ our lovely canadianism for blizzard which has become in The Tin Flute the powder works exploded.142 I am to blame up to a point, but I was given twelve hours to read and correct the manuscript and it was my first attempt at a job that you and I have learned to look upon as one of the most difficult. I was wondering if Jack had spoken to you of this project, or if it is just a thought that came to him then. As The Tin Flute is having another sort of boom and is studied in high school all

141 Journalist and media personality Laurier LaPierre (b. 1929). 142 The original sentence reads ‘Vers huit heures du soir, la poudrerie se déchaîna.’ In the first English translation, by Hannah Josephson (The Tin Flute [New York: Reynal and Hitchcock, 1947]), this sentence was translated as ‘Towards eight o’clock in the evening the powderworks exploded’ (117). The novel was eventually retranslated by Alan Brown (The Tin Flute [Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1980]), whose version of the sentence reads ‘Around eight that night the powdery snow was loosed on the city’ (144).

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over the country, it should, I feel, be purified of at least the worst errors and inadvertences. Perhaps a face-lifting should be attempted and it might be sufficient for the time being, but what an ungrateful143 job. If Jack ever speaks to you about it do let me know. I’m sorry about your attack of flu but glad to hear that you are obedient and have remembered the diet144 of raw beef which worked wonders for you. Marcel sends his best. I long to see you again.



With affectionate wishes Gabrielle

[Toronto,] May 21, 1972 Dear Gabrielle, (or should I say Shirley?)145 Chose étrange, I was about to write and say I’d heard nothing from Jack about a re-translation of BH,146 when a note came sounding me out about the project which I gather is still tentative. He offers to get me a copy of the new (French) edition and I shall tell him to. Volume 2 of my own original copy was lost by a friend of mine to whom I lent it and who returned only volume 1, remarking in airy fashion that he ‘seemed to have lost’ volume 2. As it happens, I never read the English. I have vague recollections of holding it in my hand and comparing the 1st paragraph with the original; I think it surprised me for some reason that is no longer clear. I don’t think I should read it at this stage; I have a very good memory and a few things would stick so firmly in my mind that I could never get them out. Print can look like the rock of ages. I wanted to ask what you yourself think of that particular translation – apart from obvious boners like ‘poudrerie’, do you feel it needs a fresh go? I’m inclined to think it probably does. ‘Fixing’ can be a very tricky business. At any rate, I wanted to have your opinion before I engage in any dealings

143 144 145 146

That is, ‘thankless.’ The French equivalent is ingrat. GR: died See GR–JM, 4 April 1972. The reference is to Bonheur d’occasion. In left-hand margin, JM has added: ‘Isn’t that odd? I should have written BO – but BH does look better!’

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with Jack. I’ll read the French, of course. I’d like to read it again after these years. It would be a tough job and a fairly long one. If it goes ahead, I won’t let Jack entertain any fantasies about having it done in a rush. We’ll see, anyway. I had a call from M.Z. one afternoon about 10 days ago and, entre nous, it worried me. She was incoherent, became more so – and finally belligerent. I had believed that she was taking better care of herself; I do feel that this sort of thing is most unwise. She has been urging me to go to Les É147 and I may do so later when I am able to. But if she is drinking heavily again, I am rather uneasy about going there; she does tend to lash out at whoever is nearest. I don’t know why she was so incensed with me the other day; she simply was. I do not take that sort of thing personally, of course, but it is not the sort of thing one walks into from choice. Perhaps that afternoon was just a slip. Gabrielle, it is terrible to have no work – no sense of use or purpose. We are among the lucky ones. So is the man who repairs shoes in a little room that smells of leather. It is pitiable to be as she is. Well, this is all for today. I hope you are at Petite and that the frogs are loud in the pond beside the presbytère. All the best to Marcel and you,



Affectueusement, Joyce

Petite Rivière St-François May 27th 1972 Dear Joyce, Thanks for your sweet letter. Indeed the pond is loud with frogs and the presbytère is as trim as an english cottage, awaiting the uncle curé who is coming to-day to marry one of Berthe’s dear little nieces, a daughter of Lucienne, one maid called Marthe, I wonder if you remember her.148 She must have been only a wisp of a girl when you

147 Les Éboulements. 148 Lucienne Simard-Lavoie was the younger sister of Berthe and Aimé Simard, GR’s neighbours in Petite-Rivière-Saint-François; she occasionally did sewing for GR. Her daughter, Marthe, was GR’s ‘bonne’ for several years.

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were here. The people and country, I would say even the birds and the frogs, remember you though. Only the other day, they were asking about the strange woman, likeable in a sense, who spoke greek to them. For that was your summer of the study of Greek wasn’t [it]? That is the birds’ and frogs’ question. People didn’t dare speak so openly. About Bonheur d’occasion, you must make sure that you have to work with the last edition from Beauchemin 1970 in which I made a few cuts and minor corrections. It is always published now in one volume. I don’t know what to suggest. Jack, as I remember, seem to feel that fixing might do, but let in149 that it was a most ungrateful job. On the other hand, rewriting is a large enterprise. I, myself, have never had the courage to read the whole thing all over again, even in French, except some brief passages that jumped in my face when I happen to open the book in search of some sentence or other. So, it seems to me you would be the better judge of what to decide, after having read both the French and English, if you have the courage. Jack of course will have his say, but I had the feeling that he was quite ready to rely on your judgment, and I certainly would. So take your time. By now the bad translation has so long been in print that a year or two of it won’t make a mountain of difference. On the other hand, if it is to be done, the sooner the better. I’m glad that you are willing to tackle the job, whatever is decided. Yes, I’m afraid poor M.Z. goes overboard frequently, and, from what I hear, drinks excessively, specially when in the company of Marion Wilson, one of her few friends left. She has lost money, I hear, through too much drink and the temper you speak about. What a pity. She is a nice person when she stays sober for a while. And it would be lovely if you could come to Les Éboulements in the course of the summer and I could visit you and you Petite. Let’s hope that some arrangement can be made. (I’m afraid her belligerent attitude over the phone was not just a slip, or if it is, it reccurs pretty frequently.) So says Jori Palardy,150 but she never liked M.Z.

149 That is, ‘let on.’ 150 The Montreal artist Marjorie (‘Jori’) Thurston Smith (b. 1907). GR met her and her then husband, ethnologist and museologist Jean Palardy, in Montreal, sometime during the Second World War.

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I’m giving you my private phone number here should you need to call me. Affectueusement Gabrielle [In top left-hand corner, GR has added:] Telephone 1+418 ***+5481



[Toronto,] Oct. 30, 1972

Dear Gabrielle, I have had it much on my mind that I owe you a letter – more so since I heard an interview with you on the CBC program Anthology a couple of weeks ago. I know you do not like interviews but I thought you came over marvellously, exactly yourself. Did you hear the program? Yours was the second little interview on the show; I stopped listening after that because I thought the man who was introducing the little dialogues and bridging between was too pompous. Do you know I have heard nothing from Jack since I wrote to tell him that I’d be glad to reread B d’O151 with a view to a possible retranslation. His mind has been busy with other things, I suppose, and he will no doubt get in touch with me again if he plans to pursue the project. I did not get down to Les Éboulements for reasons I expressed in an earlier letter. Also, it turned out to be a very busy summer. M.Z. has had a bad time with her health of late as you probably know. An odd thing is that I have sent her a couple of notes of recent weeks but when she writes, as she does quite often, she never mentions getting them. Perhaps she doesn’t; I may write to the address where she is not and the p.o. then messes up the forwarding. I often wish you could come up this way some time. I think of it especially when I roast a chicken in my clay pot, remembering the rather dry bird I produced at Petite and that you like the light meat whereas I prefer the dark. I thought of writing during the summer and asking whether you’d like to come in September. Just as well I didn’t as it was a very poor month. October has been no better. I thought we

151 Bonheur d’occasion.

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could explore the streets, go to the island, take a bus to Niagara-on-theLake etc. Now if it’s weather we want, it might be better to wait till spring; our winters can be very dirty, mean and sloppy. However, if you wanted to come at any time, I’d be happy to see you. I’d be delighted to put you up except for one thing; the place, as you know, is noisy though it does quiet after midnight; however, I’m afraid it would be trying for you as a poor sleeper. I am used to it. Anyway, I think I could find you a hotel room just a block away which would be closer than last time and you would have all meals here – even breakfast if you liked. I’d have your kind of margarine and other goodies and cook the sort of things you eat. Think it over and do plan to come some time. We can arrange it so that I am free of urgent work, which will enable us to have a little holiday together. I do hope you are well and had a good summer.



All my best wishes, Joyce

Quebec, November 3, 1972 Dear Joyce, It was lovely hearing from you again ... although I may have been the one who owed you a letter ... The bit of interview you heard must have come out from a tape recording I gave, or did, rather, with Don Cameron, last year, for a book to appear at Macmillan,152 I believe, made up of twenty such interviews, with authors across the country. I remember now that Donald Cameron asked me if I would allow him to use bits here and there. The whole written interview, boiled down to 16 or 17 pages seemed fairly good. At least, it didn’t seem to contain too much blablabla. But credit for this is due, to a great extent, to the talent for interviewing and listening that I found in this very sympathetic young professor. Anyhow, thanks to him I have received your lovely letter of October 30th. I just had heard a day or so before from Jack McClelland who also invites me to Toronto. I answered him as I do you

152 Conversations with Canadian Novelists, a collection of interviews by writer and broadcaster Silver Donald Cameron (b. 1937), was published in 1973.

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that at present I am much too tired to even think about it. I have only lately returned from visiting my ailing sister153 in Manitoba – she suffers mostly from deep melancholia – and also terrible loneliness – and I’m all in pieces. I did promise him – as I also [do] you – that I will send him my new book which came out in French a few weeks ago Cet été qui chantait ... what a job to translate that, n’est-ce pas? I’m in no hurry. I wish to see how it will do here, first. But it won’t be too long – I hope – before you’ll hear from me again. Your invitation sounds so good, so warm, what with margarine and goodies awaiting me, that I find it hard to resist. Another time perhaps.

[postcard]



Affectionately yours Gabrielle [Tourrettes-sur-Loup,]154 December 14, 1972

Dear Joyce, This card may bring back to your mind pleasant remembrances of your last trip to France. I have found a rather sweet apartment but comfort is somewhat rudimentary, the home by the way of an English lady painter. I have asked Les Éditions françaises to send you a copy of my latest book. Not for translation. Just as a gift with my wishes for a Happy New Year. I have not made up my mind yet what to do with it. I mean with regard to other publications. Of course I should prize your commentary.



With love Gabrielle

153 Clémence Roy (1895–1993), who had suffered from a form of mental illness since early adolescence. She is the inspiration for the chapter ‘Alicia’ in Rue Deschambault (Street of Riches). 154 GR stayed in this small town in Provence from early December 1972 to the end of January 1973.

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Tour[r]ettes-sur-Loup, January 3, 1973155 Dear Joyce, Just received your card and good wishes. There is nothing I would like more than to prompt you: Come over right away, join me in Tour[r]ettes ... if only life were as it was not so long ago. But everything went wrong from the beginning with this trip. First of all the apartment I rented through a friend156 (by correspondence) is charming but impossible to heat properly; I’m spending no end of money and time trying with electricity and gas and oil, nothing doing; it stays cool. The weather is bad. A few sunny days when I arrived and since Christmas rain, clouds, mists. I had never seen the Provence under these heavy skies and with so much wet weather. Of course when the sun really shines most of the troubles I encounter are forgotten, but it is only for an hour or so. This person here through whom I rented, a Belgian painter, quite gifted, wrote the most marvelous letters, and in person she is interesting, but so taken up by family duties: an aged father, a mentally ill sister, etc, of which I suspected nothing, that she has practically no time left for anything else. So that I am left very much to myself. Which I wouldn’t mind too much if I did not run all the time into endless difficulties with the heating, with the laundry, with transportation. Then the atmosphere of this medieval village most beautifully restored is one of silly bohème, running over with hippies, derelicts from every country, artists of a kind (even our Roussil157 is living here fatly on a grant of the Canada Council of the Arts), chatty old English women, packs of Belgians. As for the natives they are surprisingly surly, nervous, abrupt. I can’t understand what has happened to my dear Provence. The same as to our country, I suppose, but at home, day by day, we may not notice it as much. In any case, I’m almost sure that you wouldn’t enjoy it here, unless the weather at least turned beautiful. Of course being together to face what comes would make it much easier to bear, even funny perhaps. But you would have to come immediately, for I cannot bear this kind of life much longer and am thinking of returning home by the end of January. I thought of leaving here and joining a friend in Menton but all rooms are taken up there, it 155 GR: 1972 156 Suzanne Boland, a Belgian painter who was spending the winter in the area. 157 Sculptor Robert Roussil (b. 1925).

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being quite a bit warmer. In Nice one might find something I suppose, except, quite likely, in carnaval time. I’m already dreaming of my haven of Petite Rivière. It is almost the only sure one I still have. If only our winters were not so long! Then to make things worse, postal strikes occur almost every second day and I receive very little mail. Hoping that this at least will reach you rapidly and that a letter from you will come as quickly.



With fond regards Gabriel

Tour[r]ettes sur Loup, January 15, [19]73. Dear Joyce, Pondering over your last letter, I feel more and more sorry that we didn’t get together to plan our trip to Europe. Had I had the idea that you were contemplating a visit to Europe, I certainly would have enjoyed you as a companion, at least part of the way. Now it is late, alas, for I plan to leave this rented apartment by the end of this month or very early in February to return home. I know that it will be very cold yet, but two months in this out of the way village and the weather being only partly good, I feel that I have had enough. If you go to Greece in April158 – and I think you are wise to put it off till Spring, although it is warmer in Greece than it is here right now – would you buy me a peasant lamb cap such as you had for yourself and which I envied you immensely, if you can still purchase one of course, they may have gone out of style. I would prefer a white one if they do come out in white, otherwise black. That is if you do come across them. I wouldn’t want you to start running all over the place to find one. Rain to-day! I don’t remember the Provence so wet. Of course, we had seven or eight successive days of sunny weather, and I made the most of it, staying out in the sun nearly all day, to seek warmth as well as the sun, for it was warmer outside than inside. Next time, if there is a next time, we go to Europe, we must consult one another. Let me

158 JM did not go to Greece in the end.

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know what are your plans. My stay here, as I hinted in my previous letter, was only partly successfull, but, in time, I suppose, I will mostly remember the pleasant aspect, blessed be our memory.



Affectionately Gabrielle

Tour[r]ettes sur Loup, January 19, 1973 Dear Joyce, Thank you so much for your ‘fellow-feeling’ letter. It arrived fairly quickly, according to the standard of to-day’s mail and of Tour[r]ettes’. Difficulties are easing up a bit. Or maybe I am becoming brighter and falling in with that French way of life where a challenge has to be surmounted, as it seems, every second minute, and over the smallest details. Take a long distance phone call! From here it’s a feat, one might say a Herculean feat. Then the weather is only partly good. Still, when it is good, one forgets almost everything else. I’m worried that you have not received a copy of Cet été qui chantait for I wrote a good month ago to my publisher in Québec (this time it’s Les Éditions françaises) asking them to send you one. I can’t understand what happened. I also learned that Jack had asked Les Éditions francaises on his own, for a copy and was told that it had been sent to him. I have a feeling that Jack is now far more interested in his television work than in his publishing. The same thing happened to the literary editor at Beauchemin. Once they tackled two or three things, they seem to lose efficiency in any. At all events, if you have still not received a copy, would you enquire at Les Éditions françaises 192 Dorchester, Québec, Qué., writing to M. Fernand Bérubé and telling him that or reminding him that your name was on the list of friends to whom I had asked a copy to be sent to. This so it may come to you more quickly. Or, if you prefer, I shall write to him again. Do you know that some days I felt befuddled to the point of ‘The room of which I had just contributed my presence to was replete with sinister atmosphere.’159 Trust Joyce for getting a laugh out of me when I less feel like it. Our book reviews in French in 159 ‘This was a sentence from an essay by a high-school student. I’d acted as 1st reader for a contest of such things.’ (JM, letter to Jane Everett, 23 October 2000.)

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Quebec are getting poorer, madder, sillier every day, and so full of hatred and racism that’s it’s unbelievable.160 Pretty soon, we will look upon the reviews given in English of French publications to know what they are about. Goodbye, dear. How nice if you came.



Gabrielle

[Quebec,] February 3, 1973 Dear Joyce, This is just a few words to let you know that I am back since last night, about middle of the night – at the end of the most tiring, rough, horrid, air trip I have ever gone through. Will write again soon. In the end, I had good weather in Tourrettes and it is hard to find myself back in a world of snow, ice, or, even worse, as yesterday drizzling rain. Hope to hear from you soon



Affectionate wishes Gabrielle

[Toronto,] Feb. 5, 1973 Dear Gabrielle, I’m glad to hear you’ve arrived home safe and well. I hope you’re now rested from the trip. Your two letters from France came last week but I did not reply as I sensed it would be too late. I haven’t yet got around to dropping a line to Monsieur Chose161 about L’Eté .... . Perhaps you could spare me this by giving him a call. I need it badly. I was asked by Oxford Press to bring up to date, and in some cases write, a few articles for a Supplement to the Oxford Companion to Canadian Literature and I must include a sentence about your new

160 Possibly a reference to some of the more hostile criticism received by Cet été qui chantait, published in 1972 (see François Ricard, Gabrielle Roy: A Life, 433–4). 161 Fernand Bérubé of Les Éditions françaises.

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book. Do you know the Companion? A sort of reference book – not very ‘penetrating’ criticism but quite nice. I was offered my choice of French-Canadian writers and chose those I knew most about already (not all of whom I’m all that fond of). My work on some of the writers has involved reading ‘review articles’ in various publications – when a poet has published 10 or 12 volumes. I can’t read (or even get hold of) each and every one of them. Strange that in one of your recent letters you mentioned the quality of French-Canadian reviewing.162 I have encountered some masterpieces of verbiage without meaning. Incidentally, who or what is Épinal? In recent days I encountered a reference to him; the first time I saw the name I tried very hard to find out who he was but without success. I assume he is a fictional character.163 I’ve had a little success with short stories recently – today a rather nice cheque for an old one, called ‘The Old Woman’ and already in several anthologies, including one that I believe I took to you at Petite years ago. It will be in a school text published in Chicago and called of all things British Motifs.164 Then a new one, which will be read later over CBC, has been accepted for a little anthology that will appear in September.165 And last week the editor of Oberon Press in Ottawa, the small house that will publish the anthology, wrote to say he liked my story and to suggest I send him a collection of stories. My impulse is to wait till I have more new stories as I think I’m writing better now. Anyway, I wrote to tell him the small number I’d consent to have see the light of day again. I even read through some old things. What a curious experience – many so detached from me and any thought I could imagine having now. I even came across an astonishing relic of my teens –

162 See GR–JM, 19 January 1973. 163 The reference is to the French expression ‘image(s) d’Épinal.’ Épinal is a French town renowned for the production of popular art with traditional themes. The expression is used figuratively, according to the Nouveau Petit Robert, to suggest that a text, or an image, represents reality in a clichéd, overly-simplified and unduly optimistic fashion (Nouveau Petit Robert [Paris: Dictionnaires Le Robert, 2003], 1309). 164 ‘The Old Woman’ was published in British Motifs: A Collection of Modern Stories, ed. James E. Miller, Robert Hayden, and Robert O’Neal (Glenview, IL: Scott, Foresman, 1973), 185–98. 165 ‘A Private Place’ was read on CBC Radio’s Anthology program on 15 July 1973 and published in 73: New Canadian Stories, ed. David Helwig and Joan Harcourt (Ottawa: Oberon, 1973), 45–59.

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juvenile and slight but with one surprisingly well-observed character. No, not well-observed because I don’t think I ever knew a woman like that. I seem to be going on and on. I went to an eye specialist Friday and will have new glasses on Wednesday. I’ve been feeling strain of late and am rather loafing now, dusting and sorting books, writing letters, since there seems no point in developing headaches at this date. I’ll be delighted, by the way, to get you a fur hat when I go to Greece if they’re still available. I’d like another myself though I still wear the old one. You can send me the measurement of your head – but not yet as I’ll only lose it. Why don’t you plan to come up this way a little later. but not yet as the weather is quite capable of being excruciating and then it would be unpleasant getting around. Write soon and tell me how you like our land of ice and snow. My best to Marcel, affectionately, Joyce [Along right-hand margin, JM has written:] I noticed while sorting today that I have some new-ish Canadian novels you might like to borrow – Alice Munro’s Lives of Girls and Women,166 for instance. If you are interested and in the mood for reading, I could ship along a few.



Quebec, February 9, 1973

Dear Joyce, Well, perhaps Cet été ... and your letter to me crossed, for I’ve asked Les Éditions Françaises to send it to you, several days ago. As a matter of fact I had left them your name and address and the instruction to send you a copy, before leaving for Tourrettes, but apparently my instructions were not all carried out. Excuse me if there is no special word for you. I thought it would go faster to have it sent directly from the publishers. If it doesn’t arrive shortly, let me know and I shall ‘faire une colère’.167 Perhaps they were waiting for the next edition, probably 166 Published in 1971, this was the second book by Alice Munro (b. 1931). 167 ‘throw a tantrum’

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at the end of this month, in which will be corrected several small mistakes we did not track in time for the first printing. But they are not very important and will not matter to you, I know, for you are not the sort to pounce on ‘la petite bête noire’.168 I have a friend who does, and it’s always a little disconcerting to me to see the pleasure she seems to experience as she discovers the smallest flaws. In a sense, she is precious to have, for she alone detects those minor lapses. But the joy on her face and in her eyes even, is a deep mystery to me. Could it be that some people find real delight in this kind of reading. Woe to them! I’m extraordinarily happy to hear about the short stories. I think that it would indeed be a fine idea for you to set out writing a book of short stories. You have the knack of telling a story quickly, efficiently, and then the precise, very wonderful style which I feel is even more necessary in short story writing than in the novel. I would very much like to visit with you but after my return from Tourrettes I wish to stay home for quite some time. Perhaps this summer, though, we might manage to meet and it might be a good idea if you came to Petite or les Éboulements for a spell. How long do you intend staying in Greece. I still deplore that we did not get together in time to plan a trip ‘ensemble’ to Europe. Next time, if there is a next time, we should try to put our heads together. Talking of heads, my size is roughly 22 inches, but I don’t suppose those rustic peasant bonnets carry many sizes. Something that would fit you, or perhaps a little smaller would do, I think. And thanks for bothering to find me one if it is possible. If they are rather cheap, you might buy me one black and one white. My head size, I guess, is somewhat smaller than yours, all said. I hope your eyes will be improved with the new glasses. Yes, I would appreciate some canadian books, for I am in a reading mood and feel that I do not know enough about the works of my English-speaking compatriots. So you might send me a few. It’s not every day, though, that one discovers an Ethel Wilson. We must be great boors to have made so little in a sense of a writer as fine as Ethel Wilson. And to think that Pierre Berton and Farley Mowat169 are reaping glory left and right. It’s the same in Que-

168 In this context, ‘an insignificant error.’ GR appears to have combined two French expressions here: ‘chercher la petite bête’ (‘to split hairs’) and ‘être la bête noire de quelqu’un’ (‘to be someone’s pet dislike’). 169 The journalist and historian Pierre Berton (1920–2004), best known perhaps for his books popularizing Canadian history. Farley Mowat (b. 1921) is the author of more than thirty essays and novels, many of them dealing with Canada’s Far North.

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bec. The mediocres prevail and reign. It is almost a compliment these days to be ignored by the so-called book reviewers. Well, let me know about Cet été ... if you have received it at last and forgive me for the long delay, which is not exactly my fault. Then, I heard from Les Éditions françaises that McClelland had ordered one or two copies – but is it true? – and I thought naturally that it would have been for you. I’ll be eager to hear again from you. Meantime my affectionate regards



Gabrielle

[Toronto,] Feb. 20, 1973

Dear Gabrielle, Summer170 arrived yesterday at one o’clock on a grey day. I intended just to glance through it, was caught by the beautiful illustrations, then started reading and went right through it by dinner-time. What a lovely and delicate book and it is wonderful how you have given it a sort of shape, going gradually deeper until all your themes come in. And what a marvellous stroke the single note from outside of the dead girl.171 So lovely and so true and, as only some of us will know, such artistry and skill. Only sometimes as I read do I feel that longing to – what, cry? laugh? both together? Do you understand what I’m trying to say? My impressions are still too hot for me to do it properly. On the personal level I felt such homesickness for the path down to the river, the railway walk, the cows, the little church. An actual pain like a cramp. Homesick is such a marvellous word. I’ll write about other things another time. This letter is only for the book. I thank you for it.



Affectueusement, Joyce

170 GR had sent JM a copy of Cet été qui chantait. 171 A reference to the story entitled ‘L’enfant morte.’

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[Toronto,] March 31, 1973 Dear Gabrielle, I have not heard from you for quite some time. I do hope you are not ill. Your very beautiful piece about the dead girl in Cet été ... has encouraged me to try to make a story about a dead girl from my own life – an incident that took place when I was eight and that I’ve wanted to use in writing for countless years but for some reason was always afraid of. I finished the draft yesterday and feel that, as my drafts go, it’s quite a good one.172 At least I think the shape and tone are right. I tend to write rather loosely and thinly at first, then as I revise I tighten and add more detail, adjust the pace and so on. If it succeeds, I’ll send you a copy, because I believe you might find it interesting. It ought to speak on a number of levels. If 173 I can get it right – and Oh how wide the gap always is! I heard last week about what Jack is up to (re Bonheur d’occasion). The news came by what I think is a reliable grapevine. I’ve wondered whether you knew about his approaching another translator and were feeling awkward about it. Well, don’t. Of course, from one point of view, I feel that his behaviour is rather disgraceful. I know he’s been annoyed with me about another matter. (Too long a story to tell here; I’ll leave it till we meet.) At least his editor-in-chief was annoyed and I fancy has said all sorts of things to Jack. But even so ... From my personal point of view, I have been haunted by the sense that I’d made a more or less firm commitment and might be called upon at any moment to do such a long demanding job, fussed with about deadlines, the thing must be finished by exactly the middle of the third week of November (or whatever), the way they always do up there. My own writing has suddenly become so much more urgent and freer that it would kill me to have to leave it. I’m incapable of doing halfway or skimpy work. After all, ‘the gods see everywhere.’ (Do you know that little verse? If not, I’ll write it out for you; it’s comforting in an austere way.) At any rate, if Jack can find another translator (who satisfies you, of course), I will not be hurt or offended. Though, as I said above,

172 ‘The Little White Girl,’ which has since become one of JM’s best-known short stories. 173 Underlined twice in the original.

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I don’t think much of J’s methods. Perhaps I’m spilling his pot of beans and you haven’t been told of this, but you’d have to know eventually. I’m not saying I won’t ever want to do a translation again. But I couldn’t undertake such a lengthy one now. Needless to say, I’m not going to Greece for Easter. Just possibly at the end of the summer though I’m not even thinking of that just now. You are right, though. Next time we go to Europe, we must consult with one another and might be able to arrange some (at least partial) combination. All best wishes to you and Marcel, Joyce On second thoughts here is the little poem:174 In the elder days of art Builders wrought with greatest care Each minute and unseen part, For the gods see everywhere.



Quebec, April 10, 1973

Dear Joyce, Thank you so much for your telephone call yesterday. It has relieved me to some extent, not entirely by far. I am still very much annoyed that Jack has gone over my head and against my wish that you should translate, anew, Bonheur d’occasion. If he had given you the job right away, almost a year ago, as was understood between us, there would not have risen later that need to press you which is so unpleasant. I don’t know quite what to do just now. I would so much prefer for Jack to come out at last and tell me what he is up to. As you suggest, I will wait a little longer, not months and months though. I so dislike the thought of working with some one else than you, specially now that we had acquired a sort of ease and harmony which only come from the experience of working together. I agree with you though that it must be far more rewarding to translate a new piece of work than to tackle 174 The verse is taken from the poem ‘The Builders,’ by American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–82).

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an old one. However, I am disappointed and I have some misgivings. If we had not been entirely trustful in one another, what might have been the outcome of these dealings in the dark as far as our friendship was concerned. Do look after yourself and attend to your eyes without delay. It may be nothing serious, I hope so very much. Still, it is wise, under the circumstances, not to commit yourself for a long job. Let me know as soon as you have heard again from your doctor. What a pity indeed that you were not free to join me at Tour[r]ettes. I have a feeling that together we would have enjoyed the country and the people. I cannot undertake a trip, now, with a companion who has a lot more energy than I have. With Marcel, for instance, who rushes everywhere, I am worn out in no time. I have a feeling that we two175 might function at about the same pace. If you hear something new about this sad affair of the translation of B. d’O. let me know. Meantime, let us hold on to our peace which is far more important than all else. At this precise moment, a snow storm is rising and chasing snow past my windows. Even though it is much too late in the season for this sort of thing, I cannot help but feel the beauty, as I always do, of the elements in the process, as it were, of their own mysterious revolt. It is as if they were wishing and trying to overthrow us, which, in a sense, human stupidity deserves.



With affectionate thoughts Gabrielle

[Toronto,] April 22, 1973 Dear Gabrielle, Many thanks for your letter. I’ve heard nothing more about l’affaire B.d’o., but if I do I’ll certainly let you know. I agree that we would probably not exhaust one another if we spent some time together in Europe. I long ago learned just what I am: that for me it is better to see five things (with the possibility of some emotional ash remaining) than to drag myself like a zombie to the sixth and the seventh, so tired I will see and probably remember nothing. Also, 175 GR: too

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we would not require constant entertainment from one another. I have been remembering France or rather Provence so vividly since a t.v. program ten days or so ago about Van Gogh. Did you by any chance see it on the CBC English network? It was made by the BBC. I doubt that our eager beavers on this side of the ocean are yet capable of such maturity. I found it an almost unbearable emotional experience – this in addition to my delight in seeing scenes of Arles, even without colour. The ending gave me the same shiver of ‘rightness’ as did your inclusion of the episode of the dead girl in Cet été .... (Forgive my describing it if you saw it.) The last scene showed his doctor’s son and another boy shooting holes in some canvasses Van Gogh had left at the hospital. Then came the narrator’s voice: ‘That is why, whenever we get the chance, we celebrate.’ (I may not have quoted him right.) If only Van Gogh could know how deeply in his debt we are – not know it now, but know it then. I so often have the feeling, when something makes the past speak to me as that program did, that I ought also to be able to speak to the past – could if I tried hard enough. Life is pitiful – but full of wonder, too. And so often those who suffer most (from us, their fellow human-beings) are the best givers. Do you ever see M.Z.? She is settled finally at Les É.176 I hope she will be happy there.



Affectionately, Joyce

Quebec, April 25th, 1973 Dear Joyce, I must write a few words, at least, to let you know how I enjoyed your last letter received yesterday. I enjoy all your letters. I always feel enriched as I read them, and important, tremendously important; you are one of those generous writers – I don’t know if I told you already – who do not hold in reserve their most worthwhile thoughts for their own work. You give all, each precious nuance, each rare impression, you give all in letters meant for one person – at least for me, and that’s why, I suppose, I feel important, deserving so much. I have not seen 176 Les Éboulements.

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that wonderful B.B.C. program on Van Gogh, but you made me feel the emotional impact of it and wonder. About this getting from the past, and also giving back to the past from the present, I have had, quite often, the same feeling you describe. Sometime I feel that our letters (I have kept all of yours) would make a book, if only mine were worth, partly worth yours. Perhaps, if I had written in French from the beginning, we would now have an exchange of some value to others. But I so needed the exercise in English, that I plunged, no matter the consequences. I shall soon be at Petite for several months I hope. I didn’t know that M.Z. was at les Éboulements for good. Later in the summer, during Marcel’s holidays, we shall certainly call on her. But, do you know, we hardly stir from our own grounds, so beautiful have they become and so endearing. I’m giving you below my private phone number there, should you come to M.Z.’s and have time to see us. Or should you just want to phone. I so enjoyed speaking to you – or rather hearing your voice on the phone the other week, I wonder why I don’t call you oftener. Affectionately yours Gabrielle [In top left-hand corner, GR has added:] Phone no. at Petite 418 *** 5781



[Toronto,] June 3, 1973

Dear Gabrielle, I think I may safely assume that you are now installed at Petite (though your address there is mislaid). I have been wondering how things are down that way. I had a call from M.Z. several weeks ago in which she spoke of torrential floods, the river overflowing, people being evacuated in the middle of the night. I know you are high enough to have been secure but I wondered about such things as Aimé’s lower pasture – and the village itself is in a sort of hollow. We have had tremendous loss of property in the neighbouring towns and villages because of the high lake level. I’ve been working again at the little story I spoke of – in the intervals between work at several others. It is now about ready to be set aside for another couple of weeks; this particular story needs a very sure

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hand and I have to keep my mind from thrashing about like a whip. It is to be very simple, written in a style as plain and hard as steel. At least I hope it will be. After my next spell at it, I may be able to send it for you to read as, in a sense, I feel it also belongs to you. When I send it, I’ll tell you for your interest how much is real, how much put there by me, how much exaggerated etc. I was pleased by what you said about my letters. Of course I do not write in any very open way to very many people but when there is a line of understanding I like to keep it open. And when I can write with some freedom, I find it good practice to put certain ideas down fluidly and just as they come, without particular attention to form, balancing of phrases, weight of words and all those other things. I don’t mean that while I do it, I’m busily thinking, ‘Oh what a good exercise this is!’ But I believe it eases the writing muscles. It is also true, of course, that if I had written to you about the little girl in my story – written about her at length or even told you about her (as it happens, I’ve never mentioned her to anyone) – then the story might not have needed to be written. I have heard that some writers test their story-ideas on their friends, even write them out orally in various forms; I cannot. I have kept most – though unfortunately not all – of your letters. There’s a gap in the middle. I tore up everything while I was in Europe and continued to do this for a while after I returned but decided suddenly one day to start putting yours away again. So I have quite a good number. I think the way you express yourself in English has a very particular charm, very often poetic and with just the occasional oddity (not quite a mistake) that adds something quite delightful. I’m sure others would also find them interesting. Incidentally, there is a great interest in manuscript material these days; the younger writers are hoarding every scrap of paper and in some cases selling them all to universities. I am told by a young man177 who has opened a very good second-hand bookshop near here that you and I might have got ourselves a little money by preserving (and selling) the manuscripts of our translations as annotated by you, the corrected galleys etc etc. Perhaps we should keep this in mind another time and provide future delight to scholars! I promised to send you some books and will do this soon. My delay has been chiefly because there is no real trouvaille like Ethel Wilson though some are mildly interesting.

177 David Mason.

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Meanwhile I hope all is well and that you will have a wonderfully refreshing summer. My best to Marcel. Affectionate greetings as ever, Joyce No word from Jack of any sort!



Petite Rivière St-François June 11, 1973

Dear Joyce, Thank you for another lovely letter. The landslides are not so terrible. Of course they are not to be ignored on a coast where erosion has been going on for years, the low pastures being eaten up by the river, at a rate of a few feet every year, I imagine. When one thinks of the silly jobs men out of work are assigned to, one wonders why in the name of heaven, thousands and thousands have not been applied to the wonderful task of setting up embankments or some sort of protection along this coast against the high waters – as any civilized country would do. Or set to clean up our beaches just covered with old sawdust which the tides have carried back and forth from the north coast and south side for years and never dissolved. But, alas! Those would be the tasks of intelligent people who really care for the land! The great malady of our times is perhaps after all that nobody gives a damn. Coming back to Les Éboulements, it is true that several deep gullies have opened, some above the road and some hitting the track with rocks and upturned trees. The worst hit is Adèle Thorgssen (I don’t know if I spell her name right) a friend of M.Z. She has to make a long round about trip in the mountain to get to her home, the bridge spanning the little river nearby having been carried away. You see, for lack of real misfortune, our people are given to dramatize their troubles immensely. [...] So far I have not settle down to real work, just sort of playing at it. Anyhow it almost always takes me three or four weeks to straighten up the house and even help Marcel with tidying up the grounds, although each year I swear it is the last, for this kind of work just about kills me. One must never start, for if you do but stoop to pick up a weed, you’re done for, you cannot leave things alone. So all sorts of undertakings, as it would seem, stem from the same source: one begins ... and then there is no foreseeing where it will lead.

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I have not mustered the courage to write to Jack McClelland yet, always hoping he would first. Of course, he very seldom writes to me, and less and less as years go by. A young woman from Willowdale[,] a Mrs. Joan Hind-Smith, is commissioned by Clarke, Irwin, to write a book on me, Margaret Laurence and Philip Grove for school students.178 She is coming to see me about photographs and a little data, next week. I am being written about these days from almost every corner of the land. Have you ever realized that you are probably the person who knows most about me and could best write such a book.179 Or any sort of book on me. Not that it would be a joyful prospect unless of course, it were done with all kinds of time and in ease, so that it might become a piece of creative art. As in weeding, I should never have begun opening my door to writers of my work.180 How foolish! One writes seven, eight books and some short stories, and then there are maybe a hundred persons around to dissect and comment and tear apart and put together if they can the seven or eight books. Of course, this is better than the total indifference of several years back. Anyhow, there again I should not have started being cooperative, nice and so forth. It all started more or less, I guess, with my interview with Donald Cameron. Strangely enough, I rather enjoyed it. There must be a queer charm in that young man, or perhaps he’s very shrewd, for people do seem to open up to him. On the other hand, it’s also true that most writers are very naive persons who quite easily are led to believe that they are being listened to with great attention and respect. Fools that we are! When we know very well that our only friends in the end are those who read our books.



Well, best and affectionate regards, Gabrielle

178 Writer Frederick Philip Grove (1879–1948). Joan Hind-Smith’s monograph, Three Voices: The Lives of Margaret Laurence, Gabrielle Roy, Frederick Philip Grove, was published in 1975. 179 GR expresses similar sentiments in GR–JM, 26 March 1976. 180 That is, ‘people who write about my work.’

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Petite-Rivière-St-François August 7, 1973 Dear Joyce, I am in the midst of fog. Yesterday I met M.Z. at Jori’s place and found her healthy looking and her old self at her best. I thought you would be pleased with such news. Now for The Hidden Mountain181 – I find it unnecessary, after all, to send you the book in the French, for the translation has already taken care of quite a lot of these182 little mistakes of punctuation, and so forth. What is left to mend, I have transcribed in a copy of The Mountain which I am sending you along with a list of corrections to study, on separate sheets of paper.183 By the way you might do something similar on your copy: just briefly, with a light pencil stroke, indicate a passage to mend and then write the correction proper on a slip of paper attached to the said page. For unfortunately, I will not be able to replace your copy, having only one now left to myself and I’m afraid, the book, hard-bound, is now out of print. With the corrections I have outlined I wish you first to study them all carefully, leave them as they are if you agree, mend them if you see fit, improve sometime as you will probably be led to do so, correct my English by all means when it is needed. Then, if no serious difficulties crop up, you can send this copy of The Mountain with all corrections properly inscribed to Mr. L.X., Senior Editor at McClelland and Stewart. (Keep track of all corrections on a list for yourself.) Or else if you prefer bring him the corrected copy yourself. If you send the book to him, you might enclose a letter stating that I have asked you to look over my corrections – also ask him perhaps if he may have corrections of his own to add – if they were important I would naturally like to see them, though. Ask him to send you the proofs after they have already been carefully looked over. And if you could do a last reading of them, I would much appreciate this.

181 JM was working on modifications to The Hidden Mountain, Harry Binsse’s 1962 translation of La montagne secrète, which McClelland and Stewart was preparing to reissue in its New Canadian Library series. 182 Possibly ‘those.’ 183 The list of corrections to which GR refers is among the documents collected in the Joyce Marshall fonds [PO47/013/001]; it has not been reproduced in this volume.

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I, myself, of course, will tell Mr. L.X. in a letter that I wish you to do this for me. As you are all in Toronto, the whole business can move so much faster than if sets of proofs should be sent to me, specially if I should be in Manitoba or elsewhere by the time they are ready, in any case, on the move. In the eventuality of great differences between my and your corrections, then you could write to me, so that we could settle the matter between ourselves. Or in a very minor case, even phone. I plan to be here till about the 24th or so of August, perhaps a little later. Afterward I shall be for some time near my sister and you could write c/o Mlle Clémence Roy Résidence Ste Thérèse Otterburne184 Manitoba After you have gone over all corrections you might wish to read the whole book and you might detect some few more little mistakes or awkward passages which I have not detected. Then would you point them out to me. Or if the correction goes without saying, just go ahead and do it. Of course, I don’t advise big changes, your style and Mr. Binsse’s being quite different, each with its particular quality. After a second thought I have decided to send you a virgin copy in the French, should you care to refer to some passages. I hope this will not be unpleasant work for you. I would be most grateful if you could have it done fairly soon, publication date being in early January. For your fee, I will ask Mr. L.X. what is to be done in such a particular case. All to the better if he agrees to settle with you. If not I will do so myself. The work cannot take weeks and weeks. So we could easily make an arrangement between ourselves. I repeat my telephone number should you have mislaid185 it. If I’m not at home, there being no one to answer, you do not lose your call money. So you can try and try without worry, except for the loss of your time. Yours affectionately Gabrielle

184 A small town located fifty kilometres south of Winnipeg. 185 GR: misled

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1+418+***+5781 Petite Rivière 418 ***+8457 Quebec P.S. I’m nearly always at home, in Petite, at nine oclock at night.



Petite Rivière St-François August 8, 1973

Dear Joyce, I forgot in my long letter to mention that Joan Hind-Smith who is writing part of a book on me for Clarke, Irwin may seek your help for the translation of brief quotes from Cet été qui chantait which she intends to include in the book. Her work, in general, is of very good quality, written for students I believe, but apparently her knowledge of French is lacking. Anyhow she had made all sorts of mistakes in the quotes in the draft she sent me. So I said: The best thing for you is to186 seek help from Joyce Marshall. It cannot entail much work. Perhaps she quotes 8 or 12 lines in all. Would you help her? I would naturally like these passages rendered as beautifully as possible, seeing the book is for high school or just secondary, I’m not sure. You could state your conditions either to her or Clarke, Irwin and make the arrangements you wish. Or again with me if you prefer. Affectionately Gabrielle [Along right-hand margin, GR has written:] Had a phone call last night from M.Z. Had a feeling she had had a drink. Not too much. But she was a little gushing.



[Toronto,] August 10, 1973

Dear Gabrielle, Your letters and the books arrived within the hour and I’ve been very swiftly through your notes.187 All cuts seem excellent (I’ll have to

186 GR: too 187 See appendix D for the changes discussed in this letter.

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read, of course, to be 100% sure nothing is lost). A few other passages will be tougher and require going back to the French. In one of your marked passages, for instance, I’m a shade troubled by the assonance of ‘eager to jeer’, though the individual words are good – I’ll only change if I can get words that are equally good. Small thought: my dictionary translates ‘boueux’ as ‘scavenger.’ It has the connotation of scouring the streets for rubbish, dirt, trash etc (either as a paid street-cleaner or on one’s own). Do you like that? Now – as for L.X. I hesitated to tell you when we talked that I had most horrible experiences with him – my stomach curdles with rage at the very recollection – about my translation of the Casgrain book.188 He made deplorable changes in my script, ignored a great many of my galley-corrections and I finally had to go over his head to get a few essential changes made in pages. (He no doubt dislikes me for this but he deserved it.) I would not deal with him again except out of friendship for you and esteem for your work. So I propose to deal with him as much as possible by mail in a businesslike way and – count on this – I shall defend your interests. I only mention this because you suggested that I ask him for changes. I will not do this and you must not either – he seems to have a poor sense of words and a tin ear (plus a great deal of self-assurance). I’ve since heard that others have also had trouble with him. There is no reason whatever why we should have problems on this occasion. You and I will make the changes and I will see that they go through. I hope you haven’t already hinted to him that he might do anything – it might be unwise to get him in on this. I’ll go entirely through the English and see if anything occurs to me. I remember thinking when I read it before that this wasn’t Binsse’s absolutely best work for you and that there were some little stiffnesses, even French rather than English word-order. (Perhaps I will not notice any this time but if I do I’ll catch them.) As you say, no big changes, of course. I hope I haven’t made you nervous about L.X. – but in my case, once bitten, twice shy. As for payment, I’ll keep track of hours I spend. Then they and I (or you and I) can calculate something appropriate.

188 Thérèse Casgrain (1896–1981) published her autobiography, Une femme chez les hommes, in 1971. JM’s translation, A Woman in a Man’s World, was published by McClelland and Stewart in 1972.

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Sickening humidity here which is supposed to break over the weekend. In addition I’ve been temporarily (and curiously) crippled. A few nights ago at the island189 a young girl (accidentally) jumped on my big toe, wearing one of those thick clogs the young folks wear! Result a first black, now purple, stiff and swollen toe! Today I can at least bend it by hand so will put on sandals and shuffle across the street to the letter-box. It seems one is not safe anywhere. (The poor girl was terribly upset, of course.) À bientôt, Joyce Except when I agree completely with you, I will send you a list of changes I propose. With any luck, next week.



Petite[-Rivière-St-François] August 12, 1973 My dear Joyce, I dashed my letter to you yesterday,190 in the hope of catching our mail, so slow from here it’s unbelievable. I’m wondering if you’ve been able to make some sense out of it. Then, after some hours of thought, I’ve begun to see the problem as you see it. If indeed this Mr. L.X. is as you say, it might be better for our work that I deal alone with him. If you could send me the book – only The Hidden Mountain, the French copy, you can keep – here next week, or in Quebec city the following week, that is between the 26th to the 31st, with a list on paper of all your ‘finds’, then I can inscribe them in the book myself and send it to Mr. L.X. There remains how to deal with him in the proofs business. Either I have them sent to me and then send them to you who could then mail them to Mr. L.X., without comment, or with a letter. Anyhow we have time to decide about that and you can advise me on the best course to follow. Certainly I won’t ask Mr. L.X. to pay your fee. We will fix that up

189 Centre Island, a popular summer destination and one of several small islands in Toronto’s Inner Harbour (known collectively as the Toronto Islands). 190 No letter from GR to JM dated 11 August 1973 has been found.

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between ourselves. Unless he comes forth, as he should, to offer to pay your fee. How sordid to have to haggle over that! Of course I could go over his head directly to Jack McClelland, but that might not be wise. And less and less does Jack seem to be approachable. The greatest trouble I foresee is about the proofs. If they should be sent to me when I’m in Manitoba, that won’t be easy, for I have very little convenience there for work of that sort and then I’ll be so taken up by family problems and my poor Clémence – in real bad health – that I will be able to attend to very little else. Ah well, let us wait and see how things will shape! The whole thing might work out easier than we foresee. One thing though: I do want you to see the proofs. Keep a list for yourself of all changes. I’m pretty sure about the cuts. They won’t correspond to your copy in French which is a first print. Only to my copy of Beauchemin, a reprint of two years ago, which I didn’t send you because it was so sloppy with all sorts of signs and writing on it. When I do send the book to Mr. L.X., I will have to write him a note along with the parcel. I can just say: ‘I will tell you where to send the proofs – a little later.’ Or just tell him right [then] and there what to do. I’ll wait for your advice on this. Did you hear from Joan Hind-Smith? I don’t suppose she is in a hurry over the two or three little passages she wants to take from Cet été ... to work in her book. Anyhow, if she phones or appears, you can keep her waiting till The Mountain is finished. You might find it interesting to do these few passages for her, in case later on, that the book should come up for translation. Then, if, of course, you would like to do it, these preliminaries might give you a taste for it ... or the contrary ... who knows! Thank you for everything my dear. Am eager to hear from you again



Yours affectionately Gabrielle

Petite Rivière[-St-François] August 13th, 1973

Dear Joyce, Thanks so much for your prompt reply. Fortunately I didn’t say much to M[r]. L.X. Only that I wished to get in touch with you and consult you on the small changes that I had in mind. So we can decide

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on whatever course you prefer. Either send me back the book with the corrections you suggest – or prefer – on a bit of paper with page marked on it, and I can write them in and send him the book. Or send me a list of what you suggest, in each case indicating page & line, for I didn’t enter my corrections in my only other copy. Then I can send you my O.K. and you send the book to L.X. I’ll still be here all next week, leaving for Quebec very likely on Sunday the 25th and for Manitoba on September 1st. I did give you my address there, did I. Anyhow, here it is again: Résidence Ste Thérèse Otterburne Manitoba Yours affectionately Gabrielle I don’t think scavenger would do.191 Somehow it sounds much too strong a word for the context. Of course I mean the people who pick up the garbage for the city, just that. But the word garbage in the context sounds too common it seems. G. 2. I don’t like the assonance eager to jeer either, you will find something a lot better, I’m sure. Don’t worry. I didn’t tell L.X. that he would be consulted on changes. Only that I wished to consult you. [Along top margin, GR has written:] It may be a little stiff here and there, but except for real awkwardness, I’m afraid we can’t change too much. Thanks indeed for your wonderful cooperation and understanding.



[Toronto,] Aug. 13, 1973 Dear Gabrielle, I’ve read all the English now – thought it advisable to do so to be 191 See appendix D for the changes discussed in this letter.

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sure of capturing tone etc. It’s a good translation, in fact excellent, very rich and dense – it must have been very demanding. Every now and then, however, he192 slips into a syntax or phrasing that isn’t English. (I do not criticize, having noticed that when you work long in French, you begin to think in French.) Twice, for instance, he uses ‘rejoice’ as we don’t in English. Once, it is something like ‘the water rejoiced him’ – it has to be ‘delighted’, ‘enchanted’ or ‘gave him joy,’ or ‘charmed’ etc etc. You can even say ‘it rejoiced his heart (or mind)’ but not ‘him.’ Just usage that I can’t explain. A few other trifles like ‘bit’ appearing twice in a sentence with 2 different meanings. Such small things I’ll easily fix. Also a few rather serious examples of unEnglishness – these may involve turning a sentence round and I must make sure that a whole paragraph doesn’t in consequence fall in ruins. (I marked some passages and will see if they trouble me still when I go through again.) One I’d like to discuss with you is a rather crucial sentence on the 1st page, referring to Pierre.193 ‘One day there had even traversed this woodland a man utterly beyond his appraisal.’ (Incidentally I heard this very sentence picked up one day by a woman discussing the book over the radio. She was speaking in praise of the book and regretting that it was now unavailable.) The word-order is wrong, ‘traversed’ also not good and I personally have dubious feelings about ‘woodland’, which sounds rather civilized. Anyway, the sentence ought to go the other way. Would you settle for something very simple and strong such as ‘one day a man utterly beyond his appraisal had’ (appeared? passed this way? or something – I’ll think of something to fit the paragraph and give force). No, I don’t propose to discuss each and every thing with you individually, though I shall of course send a list when I’m through. I’m still working on some of your suggestions, a few are sticky but will come. I become more and more troubled by ‘eager to jeer’, not the assonance so much as ‘eager’ itself; I think I can finally get a better rendering for ‘appliquer’ which you use. Think for a while about summonses being eager and you’ll see what I mean – in my mind they turn into dogs with snappish little faces. But I’m just thinking aloud. I wish we could

192 Harry Binsse, the original translator of La montagne secrète. See appendix D for some of the changes discussed in this letter. 193 The novel’s main character, Pierre Cadorai, a painter.

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knock some of these things about together; we always do so well. I hope I don’t worry you too much about L.X. He did such disastrous things with Mme Casgrain’s book, charging wildly in all directions which, since the book was an autobiography, involved mutilation of facts – ‘porpoises’ for some reason became ‘seals’ and dozens of things of that sort. Also he tried to make an elderly lady read like a smarty-smarty 30-year-old journalist. Have you written to him yet? If I need to call him, I want him to have already heard the news. You mentioned in your letter194 that you would be down there till the 24th. If you leave earlier, let me know, in case I have to get in touch with you. I will try to send you a list of things (not till I have at least half done) quite soon. Or if some things seem unsolvable without discussion, I’ll call. Affectionately, Joyce [In top left-hand corner, JM has written:] You can see how hard I’ve worked today. My typing is even worse than usual!



[Toronto,] August 17, 1973

Dear Gabrielle, Two letters from you today, dated 12th and 13th. As I said in my last, I hated alarming you about L.X.; he might be quite docile this time but I dreaded his getting his hands on the book and then my being involved in a fight over the galleys that would ruin me for weeks – ruin you too because you’d probably have to be involved in it! (I loathe quarrelling and luckily very seldom have to.) I think your idea is right, that you should personally send the changes. (Though I can’t see why they shouldn’t pay me; they must make plenty from the series.) At any rate, I now have things more or less ready but want to brood on some things a little longer. On Monday I’ll mail you (registered) at least as much of the list as I have ready – two copies, one being for you, one for him, I’ll keep the third copy. I may offer some alternatives in the margin of your copy. (If I have to

194 GR–JM, 7 August 1973.

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send the list in two installments, the book will come with the 2nd one. I think your idea of marking changes on the text is good, though you can send the list too if you like.) There may be a few things at the end that you and I should discuss; you can phone me for this. As for the changes I suggest – if you don’t like them, cross them out. Or we can discuss them. As for galleys, just say in your letter that you want corrected copies sent to us both – this as a precaution. (No reason why either of us should do their work of finding typos etc.) Incidentally, about his being senior editor (a promotion, I think, since I dealt with him). At least one other man is (a) senior editor. Over them both are the managing editor and the editor-in-chief.195 M and S seems to have many chiefs but few Indians; everyone has a title. I have not yet heard from Joan? Hind-Smith but will be glad to help. I gather you found her pleasant to work with, which is good. [...] I am very sorry about your sister and hope you will be able to attend to her without any problems on this side. Affectionately, Joyce In view of postal slowness, I shall not mail anything to P.R.196 later than Monday. If there has to be a 2nd batch, I’ll send it to Quebec.



[Toronto,] August 18, 1973

Dear Gabrielle, Herewith 2 listings of changes, yours & my few together. I’m keeping a list and am marking your deletions on my copy of H.M. Only a couple of things p. 14 –

I inverted ‘sigh’ and ‘tremor’ to avoid a double assonance Other possibilities are ‘to render some pulse, at least ...’ ‘to render some undertone, at least’ or ‘to capture some breath, at least a tremor’

195 In left-hand margin, JM has added: ‘I think only one each of these!’ 196 Petite-Rivière-Saint-François.

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p. 155 – you didn’t explain your underlining of ‘unslakable’. Do you find it an ugly word? I do somewhat. Other possibilities as well as the 2 I give are ‘to quench the never-ending thirst’ or ‘persistent thirst’, though (now that I see them) they assonate a little. So I’d better stop thinking. Call about anything if you feel you need or wish to. Again my deep sympathies about Adrienne.197 I feel I know her. I had one or two charming notes from her – enclosed, I think, with typing of yours she was sending me. Affectionately, Joyce



Petite Rivière St-François August 22, 1973 Dear Joyce, I received your letter and the book with your list yesterday afternoon. It’s unbelievable how quick our mail can be at times. I’m in debts of gratitude for such precious rightening up ... yet without interfering at all, one might say, with poor dear old Binsse, only, it seems, purifying his works. Thank you, deeply, Joyce. I agree with very nearly all your suggestions. Strangely enough, I rather like: ‘In a vast and lonely expanse he alone was to be seen.’ The repetition there lonely, alone pleases me. I outlined198 unslakable only because never having seen the word, I meant to look it up. I think I’ll keep it. There are only two other points I’ll think about for an hour or so before making up [my] mind. Your contribution is invaluable, dear. I feel so happy over it all. Wish the rest of my life these days were similar. It is indeed my dearest Adrienne who is dying of cancer. We don’t know how it will go with her. Quickly or not? Our love wishes quickly, because we fear great pain, the cancer cells already being present in the bones. She

197 GR’s close friend, Adrienne Choquette, was dying of cancer. GR appears to have informed JM of this illness earlier, either in a letter which has not been traced or by telephone. 198 That is, ‘underlined.’

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was well only a few months ago, only complaining that she very easily tired. She has almost nobody in the world, except two good-fornothing brothers. One dear friend, Simone,199 a neighbor of hers, does care, though and spends most of her days at the hospital with Adrienne. I went last Sunday and was driven back Sunday night, by friends. I plan to spend next week in town and to visit her, for short visits, every day. I’m torn between staying, should the end come swiftly, and going to Clémence who is far from well, very depressed I’m told, and going on in years, 78 next october. Our duties clash cruelly sometimes. So you can see for yourself how your help at this time was important to me. [...] I’m going to send the book to Mr. L.X. to-morrow very likely, along with a letter in which I will ask him, according to your advice, to send us both a set of proofs. I will touch lightly on the question of fee and see how he reacts. I’m marking the changes on the text so that I can send you back one of your copies (list) with my okay or questions. In this case our list will be identical. For it may be difficult to consult one another if the proofs should come when I’m in Manitoba. I hope they have good proof correctors there at McClelland & Stewart. Should I ask Mr. L.X. to send you, along with the proofs, the copy of the book in which I marked the changes? I suppose that would help you. All next week then, till Saturday, september 1st, I shall be in Quebec. After that, unless I call you, I shall take the plane to Winnipeg and be near my sister at the following address c/o Sister Ross Résidence Ste-Thérèse Otterburne, Manitoba. I’ll write again as soon as I have a minute to spare. Now I have to pack, arrange things with Berthe – who by the way sends her affectionate regards – more or less close the house, Marcel may come for a day now and again, and gather my poor wits. If there should be difficulties with Mr. L.X. let me know. I doubt it,

199 Simone Bussières (b. 1918) was a novelist and radio and television host, and the founder of a publishing house, Les Presses laurentiennes. GR met her through Adrienne Choquette.

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though, for in his last letter, he seemed quite pleased that I should be consulting you, at least gave the impression that he thought it natural. Yours affectionately Gabrielle If you feel that Mr. L.X. should have a list as well as the book with corrections, send him this one that I have okayed. I am asking him in my letter to send us each a corrected copy of the galleys. He says in his letter that they should be ready by the end of September at the latest. I might be back in Quebec by then, who knows. All depends on how I will find my sister? How Adrienne will fare? I will try to write and let you know what my course will be, if you can call it a ‘course.’ G. In the end, you will see from the list I’m sending you back that I have accepted all your wonderful suggestions except 2 1. page 64 for the reason I have just explained 2. page 152, keeping ‘and’ for a question of balance I guess.



Merci, chère G.

[Toronto,] Aug. 29, 1973

Dear Gabrielle, Your letter and the list arrived yesterday. Your deletion of ‘was’ (p.165) is excellent; I should have caught that. I don’t think L.X. need have a list as long as he has the book marked. As for galleys, I do not mind giving them a final read-through for typos. The trouble is that they have a bad habit of giving everyone a separate clean set so that each person starts from scratch and work is needlessly repeated. Then someone transfers everyone’s work to something known as the ‘master’ set, with chance of error etc. Oh well, perhaps this time they will be sensible. We can but wait and see. I felt rather badly, incidentally, nitpicking through the book (with the poor man dead). But there was no

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sense of superiority in my mind. I’m very sure that when and if we do such work for Road and Windflower, things will turn up about which I will think: Good heavens, how did I ever let that by! It was lucky I did the work two weeks ago and not last week. I had begun to feel rather sick and feverish and discovered that what seemed a harmless little gum-boil was really drainage from an abscess (up behind somewhere). I was given penicillin, which reacted badly, and am now taking another drug; I hope it will be more friendly. It seems that the same tooth is also suffering from a fractured root, whatever that is, and must have treatment from a specialist – next week when he gets back. I hope all this won’t cause too much disruption when I have so much to do. But among the troubles to which we humans are subject this is certainly not the worst. I do hope Adrienne will be spared too much suffering. A good friend of mine was stricken with cancer of the bone a few years ago but, to the great relief of all his friends, died quickly. How good it was that you dedicated Eté as you did; I’m sure this has given Adrienne great joy. I am still waiting to hear from Joan Hind-Smith. Perhaps she is busy with other aspects of the book. I hope she doesn’t feel nervous about approaching me; I am more than glad to help. I shall write next to Manitoba unless I hear otherwise from you. I do not see why there should be any problems now with Mountain. If you have to change aircraft at Malton (as you did once) perhaps you’ll have time to give me a call. At any rate, I’ll be in touch as time passes. If you are told even approximately when galleys can be expected, let me know. Meanwhile all my affectionate wishes during this difficult and painful time,



As always, Joyce

Quebec, September 1, 1973

My dear Joyce, It is so much in character, so much like you to write me a note to catch me just before leaving to day for Manitoba. Thanks dear. Somehow in these very trying times for me your strong friendship – without much words but so eloquent – sustains me. Adrienne is hanging on

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from one transfusion to another and one wonders for what purpose. Ah, could we, like Deborah,200 walk to the ice floes and disappear in the tumult of night and dark waters. I’m going from one sick to another.201 Yet I may come back enriched from all that – if not broken. Strange, strange life! I doubt that there will be time to ring you up between the planes in Toronto. They are rather close. But if possible I’ll try. I’m so sorry over this wounded gum. I know the pain can be excruciating. I hope it will soon disappear. Of course, as soon as I hear from Mr. L.X. I will write. Meantime look after yourself[,] I need you tremendously. With deep affection Gabrielle [In top margin, GR has added:] am relieved of course to hear before leaving that my letter and accepted list has reached you. G.



Otterburne, September 15, 1973

Dear Joyce, I haven’t received a word yet from Mr. L.X. My sister is very poorly. I am not so comfortable here in a sort of cubbyhole. If McClelland & Stewart are in a hurry and if you get along well with Mr. L.X. over this business of galley reviewing, you might do all of the work for me, and, if he is willing, give them your O.K. In as much, of course, as they furnish a well corrected copy, for it is a job to track all typographical errors. My best to you. Here all of my attention is required to solve – to try to solve – problems, that cannot be solved in the end. Adrienne dying and refusing to die, Clémence living and refusing to live, what is the point of it all? I hope that you at least are well and that your gum infection has disappeared. Affectionately Gabrielle 200 The main character in GR’s short story ‘Les satellites’ (‘The Satellites’). 201 A literal translation of ‘d’un malade à un autre,’ meaning here ‘from one sick person to another.’

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[Along top margin and continuing overleaf, GR has written:] It might be wise to phone Mr. L.X., on my behalf, and find out just where the work on Hidden Mountain stands. Or write him a note. What do you think? If it should not be ready before the end of September, the galleys might await my return to Quebec. Unless you feel that everything is in order and that you can easily manage alone. Yours



G.

[Toronto,] Sept 19, 1973

Dear Gabrielle, Many thanks for your note – also for the earlier one that came after your call. I am sorry you are having such a sad and trying time. Death and life are so strange and so many things are insoluble by us humans. I can only offer you my presence and my fellow-feelings for how much they may be worth. I had intended to write to you today in any event as Joan H.-S. was here this morning, having called finally yesterday. I found her a most sweet and perceptive young woman and I’m sure she’ll do beautifully with the book. I was able to correct some errors in translation – the most crucial and distorting one on the last page; she made that common mistake of thinking ‘là-bas’ means ‘down there’, which affected the sense she made out of the whole passage. She thought you were saying that happiness is to be found in flight (soaring above life) rather than ‘down there’ with humdrum things. (I simplify.) At any rate, she will call me again and I urged her to do so – to call about anything at all. I saw the specialist about my tooth; he removed the nerve but I must have an operation (not till Oct. 16) to remove the detached root which is sitting up there festering. My ears must have closed off because I have only vague recollections about what he said he would do. I gather it will knock me out for a day or two. I’d just as soon at this point have the tooth out but my dentist says this must be done to save all the teeth on that side – you know the things they say. I will be glad when it is over but the thing meanwhile doesn’t trouble me very much now the nerve is out. I don’t think we need worry about not hearing from M & S as yet.

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Their predictions of dates to receive galleys always seem to be very inaccurate. I am quite willing to do the work alone but I’ll be very surprised if we hear anything before Oct. 1st. Suppose we wait another couple of weeks and then perhaps I can call. I honestly don’t think there’ll be any troubles. I can check on my own and would only need to contact you if some difficulty arose. (From your point of view, however, I imagine you might like to at least see the new passages.) The only problem would be if the galleys arrive exactly on the day when I’m feeling rather sick with (I gather) a very swollen, sore face. But then they would just have to wait a day or two. I’ve hurried too often for them and then just had to turn around and wait myself. But I’m sure they’ll be through by then. Don’t worry. They didn’t want the corrections till Sept. 15, so our wonderful promptness probably didn’t speed them up to any extent. Meanwhile, be of good heart and drop me a line if you can, though I’ll understand if that isn’t until you reach Quebec.



All my affectionate wishes, Joyce

Otterburne, September 20th, 1973.

Dear Joyce, Well, my season in purgatory, here, is coming to an end. I have not accomplished much in spite of wearing myself out. My sister will drag on ... who knows! ... months! years maybe. She is wasting slowly, weighs 77 pounds only, yet the spirit in that weak little body is astonishingly strong yet. The best we can do for her is to stuff her with innumerable pills. And I must leave her in that state, for there is nothing I can do, or anyone can do for her. Don’t ask me in what frame of mind I am returning! It’s almost despair. Yet, in some time, I will cheer up, as they say and may even become somewhat happy in this world of woes, ills and unbelievable suffering. The mystery is that we can be happy at all in such a world. Excuse me, I had not meant to write in such a grievous way. It just came out against my will. For I know that you have your own struggle to face. At least, let me hope that your health has picked up.

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Yesterday, I sent a telegram to Mr. L.X., the gist of which was: If the galleys are not on the way yet, send my copy to Quebec city, for I am flying back – via Montreal, so I shall not be able to call you from Toronto – this saturday, 22, day after to-morrow. I asked him to wire me back an answer. So far I have received nothing. But this is such an outof-the-way, both in geography and time – he may not have received my telegram phoned from a public booth, or he may not have been there, or his telegram could take days to reach me. Anyhow, as soon as you get this letter, if you have not yet received the galleys, would you be so kind as to phone him and tell him – in case he hasn’t heard – that I am back in Quebec City. I could leave the correction of galleys to you, I’m sure you would be far more efficient than I am, specially in the state I am in, almost exhausted. Still, it might be better, if I too have a look at the darn piece of work. Then again, after all this pushing and hurry, they might be late at McClelland with their galleys. At least, this is what is happening with Beauchemin who are bringing out a reedition of Alexandre Chenevert. In a way, I am pleased, for it will be easier to do this work back home, than in this sort of shack the Sisters have put at my disposition. Must not complain too much, though, for the weather, at least, has been fine, sharp cold nights and wonderfully clear, sunny days. The Manitoba climate at its best. About the only good thing I can say in favor of my native land at this moment. Although, to be honest, the vastness of land and sky, that extreme purity and vigor has again woven its queer magic around my worried self. Looking to hear from you Affectionately yours Gabrielle P.S. Dear Joyce Just received a phone call from M[r]. L.X. who sounded most amiable. They are not reprinting the whole book, only the pages containing corrected passages. So Work set to be slight. He said he would send me a copy of these remade pages and send one to you by the end of next week very likely, or perhaps beginning of week following. Thanks heaven this is going to be settled without202 too much trouble. Mr. L.X. sounded quite please with the corrections we

202 GR: with

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made, glad that they are not too numerous and friendly toward you. I said I relied greatly on your ‘sharp eye’.



Affectionately Gabrielle

[Toronto,] September 24, 1973 Dear Gabrielle, Your letter of the 20th arrived today. I wrote to you last week, on Wednesday, I think, and trust that the Sisters will forward the letter to you if it didn’t arrive by Friday. Nothing in it of importance, anyway – just that Joan H-S was here finally and something about the operation I have to have on my silly tooth on October 16th. How sad to see your sister in that state. I do not know what answer we can give to human suffering; there seems to be even more of it (in some ways, not all) in these days of medical ‘wonders.’ But the spirit will fight and that is extraordinary and wonderful despite the outcome. But I simply do not have words for such things; perhaps ultimately there are no words though we are obliged to think there are and must continue to search for them. I’m sure your sister was glad to see you, in any event. Good that the galleys will be along soon and that they haven’t reset the whole book. I was not looking forward, any more than you must have been, to searching for our (mostly rather small) emendations on a great mass of slippery sheets. As for L.X.’s feelings about me, I’m glad to see that he is not vindictive and is seemingly capable of learning; I rather think that he must have been given a great blast about what he did to and about the Casgrain manuscript and if he came out of this without ‘hurt’ feelings or personal ill will towards me, that is very good. (I hated having to go over his head, you can imagine how much.) Our correcting on this occasion shouldn’t amount to very much but I’m relieved that both of us will be able to look at it. I have reached the point of revision now with the collection of stories I hope to have ready by mid-December.203 There are thirteen though I may not finally submit them all. Some require considerable polishing, 203 For Oberon Press of Ottawa (see JM–GR, 5 February 1973).

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some (I hope) only a little. But all require the same sort of sharp cool mind, and how is that to be maintained? To see just what is needed and no more, no yielding to the inevitable temptation towards great masses of new composition (just to make things more interesting for oneself), no slackening, no mistaking one’s own tiredness for a real failure in the material itself – or the reverse! Well, we do it just as we do everything else – day by day by day. By the way, I hope to send you an anthology soon with a new story of mine. It is in the stores but I haven’t received even one author’s copy yet, though I will eventually, I imagine. I hope things are not too bad in Quebec. Do write when you can. You’re one of the very few people I can write to when I am as locked up in my own writing as I am. Affectionately, Joyce



[Toronto,] Oct. 15, 1973 Dear Gabrielle, Just a few lines to say I’ve read Joan’s manuscript and am delighted with her perception and insight – into you, I think, as well as into the books. I think it’s a beautiful piece of work and that her style is most effective, so easy and free. Pacing is first-rate too. I can find no fault with it and have noted just a few tiny slips which I’ll discuss with her when she comes down later in the week – my ‘op’ is tomorrow and I may feel poky for a day or two. I’m sending a little book with a newish story of mine204 – an odd piece as you’ll see, the only time I have ever tried to deal with another society from the inside. But please do not feel that you must read the story right away. Wait till you feel that you can deal with such trivialities as the written word. Dear Gabrielle, I know how things are for you just now and send you my love.

 204 ‘A Private Place.’ See note 165.

Joyce

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Quebec, November 23, 1973 Dear Joyce, Would you believe it? I have not heard from Mr. L.X., senior editor, and what you have,205 since that phone call to me when I was in Otterburne two months ago, and not even in reply to a letter I wrote to him two weeks ago asking what was happening to that reprint of The Hidden Mountain they had been in such a rush to bring out. Are they all mad at McClelland and Stewart? And everywhere else for that matter? Jack seems to be everywhere, doing interviews, even delivering a lecture to the members of the Pen Club in Montreal just lately; everywhere, I expect, but at his business. So is the literary editor of Beauchemin these days. Do you know that it is becoming hard to see some one applied to his own work simply and reasonably and with some love for his craft. I sometimes have a desire to fly – or flee – to the utmost end of the earth. But is there an ‘end’ anymore, anywhere? For instance traverse the whole wilds of Siberia by their endless train journey. The Trans[-S]iberian railway, I dreamt, still dream, about that as a possible source of an authentic voyage. Would you be willing to come with me. A fine traveler I would be, though, with my restrictive diet! How long would I last on the Russian fare of raw cucumber and black bread? Still ... one must dream! At least, cheer me up with one of your inimitable letters. I lost another close friend lately, one of my very few remaining friends of the old days in St. Boniface, this Paula,206 I may have told you about, whom I visited 6 years ago in Draguignan, in the south of France, and again, last year, in Nice when I was in Tour[r]ettes. For the last six years, she had gone from ‘clinique’ to ‘clinique’ with a case of everlasting anguish. The poor soul finally worked herself away from her cruel core, much perhaps as the lovely dragon fly from its harsh envelope. She suffered a sort of martyrdom, I suppose, from the mere fact of being too keenly aware of our human condition – who knows! or is the source of that illness physical after all.

205 That is, ‘what have you.’ 206 Paula Sumner Bougearel (1915[?]–73). GR first met Paula Sumner in the 1930s, when they were both members of the Cercle Molière in St Boniface, Manitoba. Paula married the diplomat Henri Bougearel in September 1943. GR was the godmother of their younger son, Claude.

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Let me know that you at least are well, rid, I hope, of that infection and pain in your gum. If you can manage to find out, indirectly, on the side what is going on – or not going – at McClelland and Stewart, I would be pleased. That Mr. L.X., for all we know, may have been switched to some other title, honor – or the contrary, for, according to what you once wrote, they gyrate rather capriciously in yonder sphere. That story of yours is good, Joyce, in its quiet, effective way. I find that it lasts in the mind, a good test. So much writing nowadays is forgotten no sooner read. I wonder that you don’t write about your traveling experiences. You may have there a deep well to draw from. The background of the story does not in the least seem to be put on. It is real, it is near, it is described as from an interior image, if I express myself with any clarity. I doubt it, I’m in a sort of a fog this morning, intellectually as well as in fact, for the mists enclose my windows, and just about swallow up the nearby trees.



With most affectionate wishes Gabrielle

[Toronto,] Dec. 2, 1973 Dear Gabrielle, It was good to hear from you. I’ve been meaning and meaning to write since we talked on the phone but hadn’t ever quite done it. I am so sorry to hear about Paula. It is very sad and hard to lose someone who’s been in one’s life for so long. I do indeed remember your speaking of her through the years. Was it not of Paula that you once told me a most affecting little story? – I think it may have been on the evening we looked at Toronto City Hall in the rain – something about the two of you taking a bus (I think) to an end of land and then she going ahead of you through reeds to the sea. You must tell me again some time as I don’t remember it clearly – though the picture I have kept is very clear. I am trying to think of some way of getting news from M and S. I used to have good relations (on the phone, we never met) with a young man who was managing editor but, alas, I now learn that he has been transported to higher things – he is managing a branch of the firm

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recently opened in Calgary! If all thoughts fail, I could call L.X. and tell him that you, or I, or both of us, are about to leave the country – or the planet. But I have faint hopes for this approach. One of my problems with him on the previous occasion was that he’d say ‘well, next week’ or something and, when I called back three weeks later, he’d say ‘Well, there was a delay but certainly next week,’ all this for months and months. You are certainly right that very few people just quietly engage in their work. One of our papers last week carried a reprint of a political speech by Jack, something about that he has now gone beyond Canadian nationalism to post-nationalism. After a sentence or two, I stopped reading. Yes, let’s head off on the trans-Siberian railway. It would be a splendid journey though I admit that the raw cucumbers present problems. We could not bring enough lunch from home and k-rations,207 as well as dull and even nasty, might be equally indigestible. Have you any plans for the winter? I am feeling again that I would like to go to Europe in the New Year but as things stand I probably couldn’t manage it before March. The big surprise for me was a call a month or so ago from M.Z. to say she’d been married the previous day. I have since had a letter from England giving more details. Have you heard of this? Or by any chance have you ever met the man? His name is T.S. (Tom) Elliott. He is English, a widower, retired (from what, I don’t know) and he will emigrate to this country and live with M.Z. in her house in Les É.208 She has known him sporadically for a few years as he has been in the habit of visiting his cousin, who has a summer place at Les É. and is named Dick (surname unknown to me). That’s all I know except that M.Z. seems to be very very happy. I do hope she will continue to be. I admit I was very worried at the idea of her spending winters out there with so very little companionship except bottles. She always insisted she’d never remarry but I myself felt it would be best if she did so. Provided it is a good marriage, of course, and as to that we can only hope. I realize that it’s not likely that you’ve ever met this man but it’s always possible that you have. Thank you for your kind words about my story. I was surprised myself at how much I seemed to know about Norway; I had never 207 K rations were packaged emergency rations used by Allied forces in the Second World War. 208 Les Éboulements.

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thought of writing about another society (from within) in that way. I wrote the story in a rather curious way. The idea came to me and I wrote it all out very quickly – in about three mornings, I believe. The curious thing is that Lars’s father wasn’t in the first version, though his mother was. I let the story sit for a while, then wrote it through again, this time adding his father and otherwise just doing the polishing, small cuts etc etc – the usual things. I mention this because I have never had a story come in quite this way. I certainly can’t count on such swift first writing always; I wish I could because it certainly provided pace and flow without too much labour from me. The mind is a strange instrument, sometimes a friend, often an enemy. Which reminds me, somewhat obliquely, of an essay E.M. Forster wrote about Virginia Woolf.209 He said that he always pictured her books as a row of little trophies, with the inscription: ‘These trophies were won by the mind from matter, its enemy and its friend.’ I quote from memory – and not meaning to link myself with VW. But I think Forster’s statement is true of all so-called ‘creative’ work. It is won by the mind from matter. And I suppose in the case of my small story, the subconscious part of my mind had already worked on that particular matter to some extent, selecting and rejecting, so that the story was down there somewhere, almost written. I have a few more stories on hand, based on places I’ve seen in travels – handled from outside though, not from within. I’ll let you know if and when I wrest some news from McClelland and Stewart. After the way we were told we mustn’t take too long, it all seems very odd.



With my best affectionate wishes, Joyce

209 Edward Morgan Forster (1879–1970), like his compatriot Virginia Woolf (1882–1941), was an English writer associated with the Bloomsbury Group. The quotation is taken from the final lines of his essay Virginia Woolf (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1942), 28: ‘She triumphed over what are primly called “difficulties,” and she also triumphed in the positive sense: she brought in the spoils. And sometimes it is as a row of little silver cups that I see her work gleaming. “These trophies,” the inscription runs, “were won by the mind from matter, its enemy and its friend.”’

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[Quebec,] December 7,210 1973 Dear Joyce, Thank you for your letter received yesterday. I guess you might as well forget seeking explanations from McClelland for the delay in printing The Hidden Mountain. If Mr. L.X. hasn’t even bothered answering my letter, the only thing would be to seek Jack himself, and these days I gather he is as unapproachable as God the Father. Which brings me to the decision: should I wish to publish another book in Toronto – which is not at all sure for the moment – I might look for another editor.211 But who? Is there one or two you would suggest? Let me know in case. Or are they all so crass these days? Yes I had heard about M.Z. marrying again and had forgotten to tell you. Les Madeleines saw the prospective groom this summer several times with the other friend, whose name is Dick Ray.212 At first they were favorably impressed, then told me they had found him rather dull. It also seems that both of them drink ... up to a point. Still there is a chance for these two to be reasonably happy together. Let’s hope so. The husband, as the story goes, is also very rich. Dear, my renewed and warm wishes.



Gabrielle

[Toronto,] Dec. 16, 1973 Dear Gabrielle, Thank you for your letter. You are right that there seems little use in my contacting McCl and Stew so I will leave it as such unless some way of obtaining information falls into my lap. A curious business. About other publishers, I’ll have to think about this. General Publishers might be a possibility. Their editor, a very lively intelligent and nice young woman (36–40), is a great admirer of your work. She was

210 GR: November 7. See JM–GR, 2 December 1973 and 16 December 1973, in which JM refers to M.Z.’s marriage. 211 That is, ‘publisher.’ The French equivalent is ‘éditeur’ (used also for ‘editor’). 212 Possibly ‘Roy.’

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telling me not long ago that she had read The Cashier213 and how much she loves it. (I meant to say reread above!) I know that she would love to publish you and I believe you would find her a good editor and a sympathetic person, but I would need to find out more about the firm. Macmillan’s has always been a good sound house but they have recently had a change of ownership so I think we should see how things go there. At any rate, I’m sure some good relationship could be found if you decide to make a change. I was interested in what you (or strictly les Madeleines) had to say about M.Z.’s new husband. We can only hope she’ll be happy. And though she shouldn’t drink, I’m afraid she always will and I’m relieved that someone will be with her and can rush her to the hospital if she makes herself dangerously ill again. She has so much energy and needs an outlet. At least now she will have a personal one. I am rather tired, having on Thursday delivered a large chunk of manuscript to a typist. I now feel totally lost, plenty of practical things await but I don’t get at them. Also I worry that the premises may burn down and all my work with them! Ah well!



My affectionate best wishes, Joyce

Quebec, December 23, 1973 Dear Joyce, Thank you for your card and letter. Just about at the same time I received at long last the copies of remade pages from McClelland and Stewart. Along with a note from Mr. L.X. asking if I would go over those pages as quickly as possible and telephone him also as quickly as possible to give him my comments and corrections. Which I did in a hurry indeed, mostly, to be rid of the whole thing, nearly four months of patient waiting having disposed me to howling impatience. Anyway the mistakes had been mostly taken care of, except that all the retyped lines and even, in some cases, whole paragraphs are set in a paler retype. I did telephone Mr. L.X., and the only pleasant surprise I had was that he speaks very good French. So we had our little chat in 213 See note 60.

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my language. I didn’t bother of course to say anything about my disgust at all the delay, and then rush at the end. Neither did I speak of you. I could so easily see that he wished to forget my former letters in which I had so strongly stated that I would seek your help and wished you to receive a set of proofs. In any case what you had pointed out had been looked after. I did tell him though, or asked him rather if he was pleased with the presentation by a Miss or Mrs Edwards of Carleton University.214 He replied only ‘yes and no’. Well I told him ‘no’ plainly. All other forewords to my books in the Canadian Library have strength, character and have great value. This one seems weak, insipid and to rely mostly on such silly ’critical’ works of that book as that of Bessette,215 the Freudian, who claims that the death of the caribou in The Hidden Mountain is a plain symbol of my wish to see my mother dead. – Well, replied Mr. L.X., she relied so much on what others had to say ten years ago, on this book, because apparently she has no opinion of her own. – How evident! I said. The other studies of my books were all so much better and stronger. – Well, he said. We’ll have one of another kind now. I didn’t even wish to discuss further items with him and since he never answered me in any case about your fee, I would like you to send the memo to me and I will give you a cheque. You can accompany your account with me with a receipt intended for my income tax professional expenses. Or if you prefer wait to receive my cheque before you do send me such a receipt. I don’t think I’ll ever have another book published at McClelland & Stewart. Although, it looks to me as if everything has soured ever[y]where in the world of publishers. Still the manners may be at least a little more polite elsewhere. 214 Mary Jane Edwards (1926–2005), a professor in the Department of English at Carleton University in Ottawa, had written the introduction to the New Canadian Library edition of The Hidden Mountain. 215 Gérard Bessette (1920–2005), a professor of French at Queen’s University (Kingston, Ontario) and a practitioner of literary psycho-criticism. A chapter of his monograph Trois romanciers québécois (Montreal: Éditions du Jour, 1973) is devoted to GR. He describes La montagne secrète as a semi-failure in stylistic terms and accounts for this by speculating that GR was unable to judge her own writing objectively, indeed, could only respond to it emotionally, because at some level she may have sensed that the caribou and the mountain represented her mother.

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Dear Joyce, I’m glad the whole thing is finished at last. It started with such contentment on my part and now leaves me with no other feeling than a relief to be rid of the whole thing. How sad to be robbed by your own publisher of the last little scraps of joy you might have held on to throughout so many problems and ills attached to the birth of a book. I renew my best wishes to you, Joyce. I hope the extreme fatigue you wrote about in your last letter has disappeared. For my part, I have had cold after cold, cough after cough. Winter in Quebec city, which is so humid now, is disastrous for my health. Yet to leave for three or four months of the year is not easy, nor even always pleasant. Do look after yourself



Affectionately Gabrielle

[Toronto,] Dec. 28, 1973 Dear Gabrielle, Your letter of the 23rd has just arrived. I am shocked at L.X.’s ignoring your instructions, but why should I be? My earlier experience showed that that is what he does, listens, says yes – then weeks later one discovers that he has ignored what one said (or in your case wrote). Some profound arrogance, no doubt. But it is awful that such people (in legions) should be in publishing, which ought to be so personal. It’s too bad though – when I was ready and willing to take the bulk of the work off your shoulders. As for the interpretation of the death of the caribou, I don’t know what to say about that. Again I am shocked. I think that all who know and love the book will be, as will all who read it for the first time in the new edition. But such rubbish should not be printed – and if this person is known to have no ideas of her own (or proved so), why should her interpretation be accepted? But I am too annoyed to make any sensible comments and can only say that I feel with you. The book will still stand on its own when all these ‘critics’ have blown away with the wind. I shall make some inquiries in due course and see if anyone knows who this person is. I enclose a sort of receipt, which I hope will be adequate. I’m not

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experienced with this sort of thing. I hate to charge you, Gabrielle, because I think it’s wrong that you should pay and I wish I could just say that we’ll write it off. But at any rate, it will be an allowable expense for you. I am dating it as of Dec. 31 because I imagine you might like to have it off this year’s income. You could then date your cheque Dec. 28 – or some day in December. I think my piece of paper will be adequate but if not I’ll send another one. As I say, I hate to think of your paying for this. You will certainly be able to get another publisher here. But how to get just the right one? I’ll see what I can think of and find out. I had my mss professionally typed and mailed them off on Dec. 21. Trudged on foot to get them in a blizzard, all transportation having collapsed. Discovered that the typist is not much better than I am – mistakes on every page – stupidities like ‘pain’ for ‘paint’, part sentences dropped so that nonsense resulted. And what I gave her was good typed copy with perhaps 3 or four ink changes per page. No doubt by enduring such things we would learn to be saints. At any rate, next week I’ll send you a copy of a story I’ve mentioned to you – about a little girl. My best for 1974 and may the pricks not prick!



Affectionately, Joyce

Quebec, January 3, 1974216 Dear Joyce, Please don’t feel bad about accepting this most reasonable little sum of money for your very conscientious effort. You judged the man L.X. right. He is a boor. And the last straw was accepting this introduction to The Hidden Mountain as it is. The bit about the Caribou, a grotesque interpretation of Bessette, who is now thoroughly discredited, I consider not only a gross lack of intelligence, taste and judgment, but a sort of villainy. For after all, if one thinks enough of a book to pick it up to enter the New Canadian Library, one should not have it prefaced by

216 GR: 1973

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such a simpleton. However, as you say, the book even with its imperfections may be remembered and stand on its own after those so called ‘critics’ ‘have blown away with the wind.’ I am looking forward to receive your short story. It is too bad that Jack McClelland looks so, little, himself, after his business and surrounds himself with such half-wits. Bessette has long been laughed at in Quebec for his far-fetched, freudian explications for the most ordinary and casual gesture. I would not be in the least displeased if you found ways of letting Jack [know] how I feel about the whole matter.217 But little he cares, I suppose. There was a time when he would not have tolerated such mediocrity, but now! Well, my dear thank you for your help. It was invaluable, don’t doubt it. And don’t worry about having to deal with me directly. Believe me, I’d much rather have it this way than have anything more to do with L.X. or anyone at McClelland. The receipt is perfectly all right and I’m sending you, as you intelligently advise, a cheque dated 1973. Thank you, dear, and my affectionate wishes



Gabrielle

[Toronto,] Feb. 14, 1974 Dear Gabrielle, I’ve been remiss about writing though I’ve intended to do so ever since we spoke on the phone. As excuse I can only say that I’ve been very tired. January is the month when I read hundreds of entries (French and English) to a high-school writing contest – an exhausting job and this year I was tired to start with. But at any rate I’m relieved of one worry. My oculist was concerned last year that I might be developing cataracts – my younger sister has already had both eyes operated on – but a recent examination shows that I am not developing that or any of the other eye diseases. For the time being, at least. I was able to cast a couple of small seeds on your behalf but I don’t 217 JM did let Jack McClelland know that GR was disappointed with the introduction, as JM–GR, 27 August 1974 indicates. The letters McClelland wrote to Malcolm Ross (see note 219) and GR on the subject are included in Imagining Canadian Literature: The Selected Letters of Jack McClelland, ed. Sam Solecki (Toronto: Key Porter Books, 1998), 190–2 and 198–200 respectively.

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know how much good this will do. I mentioned to one of the McCl and St editors218 – a very nice man – that you were not happy about how things had been handled re Mountain; he is a concerned person, a very good poet himself, and I told him to speak a word if and when an occasion arose. I also told Malcolm Ross219 that you did not like the preface. He seemed really sorry about this and said he’d look at it when he returned to Halifax. He seemed to think it had been written long, long ago. Wasn’t part of the delay supposed to be because of waiting for this? We could not have a real discussion of this because I had to seize my moment to speak to him. Jack McCl, by the way, was out on the street yesterday giving away paperback books but, though the event was well publicized in advance, I did not go to participate. However, I did see it on television. A little young girl was shown, delighted with her gift of The Little Water Hen220 because, as she explained, you were her favourite writer – along with Farley Mowat! I guess it’s nice to be a favourite, even in such company. I decided between paragraphs to give Joan Hind-Smith a call. She is still, as you know, hard at work on her book but seems to want a break so I am going there for dinner on Saturday. Too bad you can’t join us! My own news is that I’ll have a little book of short stories published in March 1975 – a long time in the future but I’m already being fussed for a photograph, biographical material and all those unimportant ‘important’ things. But I hope it will be a nice book; we are still discussing what is to be in it. I hope the winter isn’t being too hard on you. Ours is a mad shuttling between almost-spring (yesterday) and the most bitter cold (today). But luckily more sunshine than we sometimes have.



With all affectionate good wishes, Joyce

218 JM is referring to the poet John Newlove (b. 1938). He was at McClelland and Stewart from 1970 to 1974. 219 Malcolm Ross (1911–2002) taught in the English Department at Dalhousie University (Halifax, Nova Scotia). He edited the New Canadian Library series from its creation in 1957 to 1982. 220 JM is referring to Where Nests the Water Hen, Harry Binsse’s translation of La Petite Poule d’Eau.

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[Quebec,] February 19, 1974 Dear Joyce, Thank you for your letter received yesterday. Herewith a copy of The Hidden Mountain in the New Canadian Library. Cheerio for the good news about a book of short stories from you. If they have the quality of ‘The Little White Girl’ and the other one you send me before, I imagine that it will be a remarkable collection. As you say it is still far away, but the moment one has decided to publish there is tenseness. I dread it as the pest.221 Thank you for planting the seeds. I don’t suppose it will do much good. Still. If only it taught some manners to Mr. L.X. Thank you for the story about Jack distributing books and relating the little girl’s choice. It is funny indeed to be in Mowat’s company in a sense flattering for I think that his success is enormous.



With love Gabrielle

[Toronto,] Feb. 26, 1974 Dear Gabrielle, Many thanks for your letter and for sending me the copy of Mountain; it looks very nice. I’ve read Mary Jane Edwards’s trivial and nitpicking introduction and find it regrettable. What a pity it couldn’t have been written by someone who understood and appreciated the book. Me, for instance. How feeble to struggle away at finding symbols of trees and animals. (About the caribou I need not speak again. Only an idiot would have found, and only another idiot repeated, such a preposterous analogy.) I wish I had read the little effort when I said my few words to Ross; I could have made the point even more strongly. Ah well. It’s a completely unmemorable bit of writing and, though the book certainly deserves much more, you can console yourself that no one will recall M.J.E.’s words a second after they have read them. And no one will go back for a second time to refresh their mind about what was said. My book will include ‘The Little White Girl’ and the other recent story you know. The editor, who made a choice from a larger number 221 That is, ‘the plague’ (la peste in French).

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of stories, wanted to leave out the little girl and print just what he calls ‘stories about women.’ I told him that ‘Girl’ is a key story for me, contrasts well with the other stories, and that I very much want it in the book. To my relief (and somewhat surprise) he has replied to say that I’m quite right and the story will go in. Stories about women. What rubbish. As if little girls didn’t become women in due course. And anyway, I would have thought that ‘A Private Place’ is very largely a story about a man. Though I’m glad to have won a point, I am of course suffering the usual horrors, which will grow worse rather than better as March 1975 approaches. What is back of this curious desire to give bits of oneself away? A strictly private life seems suddenly very nice! But the thing must be gone through and now and then, not very often, someone will speak or write a word that will temporarily make the horror worth it. I hope you are back writing again as you hoped to be when we spoke over the phone. I feel a great desire to go somewhere, almost anywhere would do, but won’t be doing that for a while. I have to go through my stories etc etc. I was reading recently about a medieval town in Provence called Ramatuelle (near St. Tropez). Do you know it? But as it was mentioned in a not very good book by a semi-hippie, it may be just a haven for the lost. I suppose it is the slow ending of winter that gives me these thoughts. Perhaps some year we could find a place where we could live quietly with some sun (and possibilities for heating when there is not). I have at times a great desire to go to France again but I do not feel much desire to travel in the high season. Well, I am going on too long as I often do when writing to you. I must write another letter to ‘my publisher’; these small houses are awfully skinflint about contracts, claim they have to be. In a few days, by the way, I shall write a note to Ross, giving him my opinions about MJE’s effort, which I think has no place in the series. It might make him a bit more careful in the future.



Love, Joyce

[Toronto,] March 27, 1974 Dear Gabrielle, I’m so glad you have patched things up with Jack and are now ready

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to have Cet été ... translated. I had a letter from him yesterday and immediately called his office. (Glory be, he actually called back in a couple of hours.) I told him I wanted certain things made absolutely clear before I undertook such a job, that I/we could not be badgered and harassed to be finished on such and such a day. I also told him (without much specific detail) that I had recently had disastrous experiences with his editorial department and that I had no intention of going through this sort of thing again, because this was a difficult and challenging job and must be done just right without torment from outside. He agreed that I was quite right and so we have no formal date to be finished – as long as it’s no later than the end of 1975! – I explained that I simply could not promise a date. I also explained that we must meet – his editor refused to let me meet Thérèse Casgrain (a fact of which it turns out he knew nothing) – so he will apply for money for two trips when he applies for a translation grant from Canada Council. I don’t know whether two trips will be necessary but I do think we may finally need more work together than with the previous books. The material is so delicate and so poetic, so much a question of balance and tone, without the strong narrative line which did so much to carry me through the other books. I think it will be a challenge. I reread some of the stories last night and I think I will have to go at them rather slowly with adequate ‘resting’ periods to let me evaluate what I have and what effect it gives. In other words, as I told Jack, it is not some run of the mill piece of prose one can sit up late to finish. He is going to try to run down the Glassco story and let us know.222 I told him exactly how I received the information, without naming the friend who first told me and then, at my request, questioned Glassco directly about it. This shows that we are both great fools. You should have written to Jack or I should have called him on your behalf. But he had begun to seem so inaccessible. I should also, I see now, have got in touch with him about my own earlier difficulties but, as I told him, one hates to be always running to tell teacher. (Did you tell him about your problems about Mountain? I did not.) When the time comes, I shall see to it that we have an editor we can work with – and if necessary scream to the highest authority. Meanwhile I understand that you will be sending me a revised Été. I expect to do a lot of reading and rereading before I begin to set down 222 It was rumoured that poet and translator John Glassco (1909–81) had said that he had plans to retranslate Bonheur d’occasion (JM, letter to Jane Everett, 23 October 2000).

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even one word. I also have to name a fee, based I suppose on some sort of word-count. I’ve already told Jack this work requires the highest rate that Canada Council will allow for translation. Meanwhile, have you any idea how the length of Été compares with the length of, say, Rivière – the one single story? I think Été is longer. If you still possess type-scripts of both manuscripts, you could judge this to some extent. Now for a more personal note. Just a few days after I last wrote – on March 6th, to be exact – my favourite brother-in-law was killed in an automobile accident.223 Such a pointless thing. He wasn’t even speeding, just struck a little patch of ice. Witnesses saw him fight to control the car, which suddenly swung right around and struck broadsides into a hydro pole. He died instantly but it took an hour and a half to cut him out of the car. Death is so hard to realize, especially when it comes suddenly and takes someone who was particularly full of life with so many interests and plans that three lives wouldn’t have been enough. My sister met him when she was eighteen and married at twenty-one. She has been a happy and fortunate woman – a good marriage, about as perfect a balance of strengths and needs as you can find, and two nice children who’ve grown up to be very fond of one another and of both parents. Now it is sad to see her trying (already) to make some sort of life in what must seem terrible emptiness. Luckily she is a teacher, a good one and likes her work. How pitiable life is and how trivial we often make it. They were in to see me briefly about ten days before and I was a little provoked that I hadn’t had warning so had no cookies to offer with our coffee. Now I wonder why I didn’t take my mind off cookies and just look at him a little. After all, I too had known him for a long time and we had a special sort of warm, teasing relationship. And because he was here so recently his voice and even footsteps still sound through the flat. He was one of those who contribute to life and so we shouldn’t just feel sorry for ourselves at being without him. I look forward to hearing from you and to working with you again.



love, Joyce

223 Leonard Starkey, the husband of JM’s sister, Eileen. They had two children, a daughter, Pat, and a son, Jack. Len Starkey was killed on his way from their home in Gananoque, Ontario, to Queen’s University in Kingston, Ontario, where he taught.

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Quebec, March 31st, 1974. Dear Joyce, It was good to hear you over the phone this morning, and the prospect of renewing work with you is most pleasant. I have a strong confidence that you will render Cet été ... perfectly. Again I wish to express my warmest condolences to you, to your sister and family for the loss of your brother-in-law. Pleasant work! dear! Although, as you wrote so beautifully not long ago, it is like giving away little bits of ourselves, and many will not even care, still it is our only possible salvation, our only way out of the confines of ourselves ... and thus perhaps, freeing ourselves to some extent, we help others to free themselves.



Affectionately Gabrielle

[Toronto,] June 5, 1974

Dear Gabrielle, I haven’t even acknowledged the copy of Cet été ... with notes. It arrived just before the strike, and just after the strike along came the manuscript of my own stories and I had to spend the terrible month of May going through them for ‘the last time.’ Since I mailed them back last Friday I’ve had long dreams in which I struggle with curious passages – which prove in the morning not to exist in my own, or probably anyone else’s, writing. When I’ve gone a little further with the translation, I might discuss a few things with you – if that’s all right. It might save time in the long run. Factual things mostly. Anyway, I’ll see how things go. Jack also sent me a copy of Glassco’s letter; he certainly was more definite than he admits in his words to the person who told me. However, there’s no point giving a moment’s more thought to this and I very much regret having mentioned it to you. But once I’d heard it, I really had to mention it – or at any rate I felt that I had to. A strange business really. I’m sure you must be in Petite by now but I’ll send this to Quebec just in case; you’ll certainly get it. I do hope you are well and are working. Joan H-S called today; she is just doing a last go-through of Grove. The book goes to press in July.

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Have you by chance heard from or of M.Z.? I had a couple of letters a while ago, sounding rather low; she had been very ill again, in hospital first at Baie St. Paul, then in Montreal. Do write when you have a moment.



love, Joyce

Quebec, June 15th 1974 Dear Joyce, I’m right now at St. Sacrement hospital (Marcel’s) for a check-up and rebuilt224 after a rather severe attack of asthma I had at Petite Rivière last week, one night alone by myself, and then during two days at l’Urgence at the little hospital of Baie St. Paul, where by the way, I was extremely well looked after. Personnally after two days of this care, I felt healed and all well, if a bit shaky yet, but Marcel had to have his way. So I came225 to his hospital where ever since they have X rayed, studied, scrutinized me. I am suppose to be able to leave next monday, day after to-morrow to return immediately to Petite Rivière where the good air will certainly do me more good than pills & antibiotics put together. However, I must say the first attack in the middle of the night rather shook me up. The cause maybe this bad bronchitis I dragged almost all winter long. It may be of some other origin. They are searching like mad. Do not worry dear, I am already 90% better and am only submitting to the last tests because I have already submitted to so many. I can understand how you felt after you finally severed yourself from your manuscript. A real nightmare. I go through the same agonizing moments. Once you wrote to me: Why do we give intimate little bits of ourselves like that to strangers?226 Why indeed! Because we can’t help it, I suppose. Anyhow, I feel quite sure that your coming

224 A short stay in hospital in order to build up her strength. 225 GR: game 226 See JM–GR, 26 February 1974: ‘What is back of this curious desire to give bits of oneself away?’

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book will stand up quite strongly, with a remarkable quality of style and feeling all your own, in your very own, distinct voice. Excuse this rather bla-bla-bla letter. With all the drugs they have given me, I feel that it [is] quite a feat just to reach out and grab a sort of thought. I laugh, though, isn’t [it] queer, for practically no reason at all. Is it relief from this attack where every breath seems the last, but I find myself laughing over almost every thing that comes under my sight, here at the hospital. Or has my wit been sharpened? To speak the truth, I think it has, and the spectacle of us poor humans striving so hard – and sometimes so ridiculously – to hang on to life which we don’t know how to live – now strikes me as sad yes, but also tremendously funny. And I find it hard not to laugh227 out right in the face of all those poor, pitiful sick people. Queer reaction is it not?228 Perhaps my brain cells have been hampered. Later on, let me know about your little difficulties with Cet été ... I imagine that a good lot of them will have disappeared by the time you have had a second look. God bless you dear. I haven’t had much news from M.Z., but neighbors seems to fear what you fear, according to what the Madeleines told me. Affectionately Gabrielle [Along right-hand margin, GR has written:] Yes, Jack’s effort to camouflage it seems, something or other, is perhaps a bit awkward. However who cares! Good luck. I am all in, after this poor letter.



[Toronto,] June 25, 1974 Dear Gabrielle, I’m so sorry to hear you’ve been ill and hope you were released on schedule and well recuperated in Petite. (I’ve just returned from 10 days with my sister in Gananoque,229 which explains why I didn’t

227 GR: laught 228 GR: is is not 229 Eileen Starkey.

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reply sooner; I didn’t have mail forwarded.) But what a frightening experience it must have been. Fortunate that you could get so quickly to a hospital. I suppose your reaction of laughter is as good as any other. Life is very odd but we do fight always (seemingly) for the next breath and so the race survives – for good or ill. Do take care of yourself and make the most of the summer. But why do I say summer? So far there has been none. This coming Sunday I am off to New Richmond for a Canada Council conference of ‘literary translators.’230 An exclusive group of 15, mixed English and French, Naïm Kattan from the C.C. and a representative of publishers from each side (not Jack though). From Monday to Friday inclusive we are to engage in ‘unstructured discussions in depth’, setting out for home again Friday night. I accepted, considering it a pleasant trip, but now wonder what on earth we will find to talk about for 5 days. But I am committed and cannot back out now. It will be nice to see the Gaspé again though unfortunately the train travels overnight both ways. I have not been that way since I was six years old and my memories are a bit random. At the appropriate moment I will wave across the river to Petite! I have not much to report otherwise. The visit with my sister was a strain, as I realize more fully now that I’m home. Not that she goes around wrapped in gloom; quite the reverse. But I can guess at the emptiness she feels, having married so young and grown through the years more and more connected with her husband. But she has two good children (and a beautiful grandson).231 Her son, who is away teaching, will be home for the summer and our sister in Edmonton232 plans to come for a visit. Take good care of yourself and don’t get sick again.



affectionately, Joyce

230 This conference led to the creation, in 1975, of the Literary Translators’ Association of Canada (Association des traducteurs et traductrices littéraires du Canada), an organization dedicated to the promotion of literary translation in Canada and to the protection of literary translators’ rights and interests. JM is one of its founding members. 231 Jack Brown, the son of Eileen Starkey’s daughter, Pat. 232 Vivian Henwood.

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Petite Rivière St-François August 11, 1974 Dear Joyce, I must shake myself to write you at least a few words of thanks for the dear little book233 – indeed it is exquisite and, all our own, all canadian at long last! – and for your good talk over the telephone. It left me feeling more cheerful. I dread the trip to that outpost Otterburne and my poor lost sister, but it has to be done and perhaps after all, it will bring me solace and even some sort of pleasure. Good luck in your writing of L’été. In case you have not got the address over there, I repeat: Résidence Ste-Thérèse Otterburne Manitoba With affectionate thoughts and feelings Gabrielle There is a telephone of a sort in a dark corner under the stairs. Still for emergencies, it would do. [In right-hand margin, GR has added:] 204 *** 7773 I shall be there from August 27th on ...



[Toronto,] August 27, 1974 Dear Gabrielle, Thanks for your note. I always love your letters. And I’m glad you like the little book. I agree that it is fine that we now have a few works of this sort that are all our own – not simply with vague references to ‘Canada’ as a whole. I received a copy today of Jack’s letter to Ross about the introduction to Mountain;234 no doubt you will also receive a copy in due time. I 233 A collection of watercolours of Canadian wildflowers. 234 See note 217.

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thought he put the matter well and I’m glad he is so firm about it. A more suitable introduction can certainly be found for the next printing. It seemed so awful, as I told him and as he agreed, that Mountain will be read now and for years to come by new readers, students, young people etc etc with those idiotic, largely empty words at the beginning. I got my corrections to Windflower into the mail to L.X. about 10 days ago.235 I made the changes on a copy of the book and also listed them in detail; I have a copy of the list, needless to say.236 I reminded him in my covering letter that corrected pages are to be sent to me. (If by some muddle they should be sent to you, just send them at once to me. There’s no reason why this should happen but I am inclined to expect the worst.) I did not change a very great deal, just small things here and there. I found one foolishness of my own; in fact it jumped at me. I said ‘observation of Sunday’ when it should be ‘observance of Sunday.’ The dictionary says the former is obsolete and we don’t want that! That sort of thing is one of the pitfalls of translating; I don’t believe I would write it directly or say it. I guess it’s not really major but I’m glad I caught it. Meanwhile I have finished the first draft of Cet été and will put it away for a while to let my mind work on its own. Which it has been doing in the day and a half since I finished. Phrases pop into my mind and I note them down. How strangely the mind works. I sometimes wish the whole process were more reasonable but there’s no way we can change it. I do hope you are not finding ‘the outpost’ too dreary and that you are able to make your poor sister feel a little happier. Cared for, anyway. That I’m sure she will feel. By the way, I called Joan one day last week. She was able to get away for a camping holiday with her children and is now at home, receiving her galleys in batches from the printer. She asked me whether there was bound to be a dreadful depression and flatness when the whole thing is finally out of her hands. I could only answer truthfully: ‘Well, in my case I always hope there won’t be ... And from what I hear from others ...’ And then I said: ‘But it will be a lovely moment when you actually hold the book in your hands.’ 235 McClelland and Stewart was reissuing Windflower in its New Canadian Library series. The volume was published in 1975. 236 This three-page list of corrections is among the documents collected in the Joyce Marshall fonds [P047/008/002]; it has not been reproduced in this volume.

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Well, I don’t seem to have much to say today except for the above. Don’t feel you have to try to answer; I understand the conditions in which you live there. If there is anything urgent – and there’s no reason why there should be – I’ll phone. With affectionate wishes, Joyce [Along left-hand margin, JM has written:] You might be interested to hear, as I was, that in the translation ‘trade’, Windflower is considered a particularly good title. Sheila Fischman told me at New Richmond that when she and a friend, who also does translating, can’t get a good title, they say to each other, ‘Why not call it Windflower?’



Otterburne, September 11, 1974 Dear Joyce Many thanks for your lovely letter – as always. My trip to Otterburne was not half as arduous as usual, almost pleasant as a matter of fact, due to a spell of extra fine weather which did my asthma a world of good, thanks also to the fact that my poor sweet Clémence was a lot better than last year. What a strange malady which comes in sort of cycles: a spell of horrible depression, then exaltation which is too much for the frail heart. But, up to a point, we more or less, live like that all of us don’t we! I shall be back in Quebec next Wednesday 18 and will be glad to hear from you. Affectionately Gabrielle I lost my address book. Would you kindly give me your phone number again.



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[Toronto,] Sept. 19, 1974 Dear Gabrielle, I see that I judged the time fairly well and that my note with the cedar waxwings was still fresh and new. I was glad to have your note and learn that your trip to the outpost wasn’t so distressing this year. I have known several people with very pronounced mood swings like your sister’s – to the extent, in the cases of two of them, of sometimes having to be hospitalized during the depressions – and it is, as you wrote, just an extreme form of the way we all live. I hope you feel well now and will find it possible to work. I still have not heard anything more from anybody and am waiting for, among other things, the galleys of my own book.237 Do you still see Tamarack Review? I have a longish story in the latest issue.238 If you don’t get it, I will obtain a copy for you. My phone is ***-1801. Affectionately, Joyce I hope I will soon use up these terrible white stamps!239



Quebec, September 20, 1974 Dear Joyce, Your letter awaited me, just in time for my arrival from the ‘outpost’ which this year, somehow, seemed less dreary, partly because, I suppose, my sister was much less depressed. My letter must have arrived at your place about the same time. I like this crossing in the air, like birds, of friendly exchanges. I’m sending you a photocopy of the proposed introduction to Wind-

237 JM’s collection of short stories, A Private Place, was published in 1975. 238 ‘So Many Have Died,’ Tamarack Review 62 (Winter 1974): 9–30. 239 Perhaps a reference to a stamp from the Caricature Series, issued in 1973–8. Each of the nine stamps in this series featured a coloured line drawing of the head of a Canadian prime minister or Queen Elizabeth II, against a white background.

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flower just sent to me by Mr. L.X. along with a short if fairly amiable letter.240 He asks for my comments. What am I to say! I would like your opinion fairly soon if you can manage. I suppose it is quite an acceptable piece of work, although dull it seems to me. Either they cannot get writers of talent for this kind of work any more, or my own work doesn’t inspire such people. I don’t know what to answer. Perhaps after all that this sort of ‘high school composition’ is the best I can expect nowadays. Am I just plain unlucky? Or is this piece fairly good, all in all? In any case it is better than the idiocy about The Hidden Mountain. The trouble is that it is very well to ask me what I think about an introduction to a novel of mine, but after all it is up to McClelland in the end to judge and decide, don’t you think? Otherwise I will soon appear like some old crank, and besides it embarrasses me terribly to have to pronounce judgment. I begin to doubt whether I am right or wrong241 and finally feel that I am not sure of anything. I wonder if you too would feel like that. So please just write to let me know if I should after all say yes the piece will do ... or what. I returned extremely tired but not worse all in all. I imagine it will be a very slow climb to better health if I ever recover completely. Still, I am quite a bit better I think.242 Fear of the cold that is coming may be my worst enemy. With affectionate feelings Gabrielle All in all, I suppose it is better to have an introduction inferior to the work it preceeds than vice versa.



240 The introduction was written by Lorraine McMullen, who taught in the Department of English at the University of Ottawa. 241 GR: wrond 242 GR: thing

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[Toronto,] Sept. 27, 1974 Dear Gabrielle, Enclosed a copy of my letter to L.X. I’m sending a copy to Jack with a covering note repeating the same thing rather more informally and emphasizing the fact that I too feel disappointed. I don’t know whether he’ll do anything; at any rate, I’m sure he’ll be in touch with me (or us) one of these days. It was nice to talk to you even if about ‘bad business.’ Do take care of yourself, don’t worry and try to get strong. I hope to heaven L.X. doesn’t ‘forget’ again and send the corrected pages to you instead of to me. If he does, just forward them immediately on to me. There’s no reason for you to be bothered by this trivial work. Affectionately, Joyce I guess my letter to L.X. sounds a bit stiff; I thought it best simply to be factual.



Quebec September 30, 1974 Dear Joyce, I have just received copy of your note to our dear L.X. It couldn’t be better. Thank you so much for your trouble. Now, as you say, let’s wait and see. By the way, I do not receive Tamarack Review anymore. So if you have a copy to spare, I should be delighted to have a chance to read your longish story.



Affectionately Gabrielle

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[Toronto,] Oct. 11, 1974 Dear Gabrielle, Alas, our efforts didn’t succeed. Jack wrote to say that though he agreed with our criticism, he felt that the introduction would have to be accepted as ‘adequate.’ Apparently there is some awkwardness involved that he will explain when we next talk. I’m disappointed of course and, like you, would have liked an introduction that was worthy of the book. However, at least it is not destructive like the other one and anyone who reads it will just promptly forget it. I have had quite a nasty dose of flu and am getting better but still feel a bit lame in the brain; I try to remind myself that this will not be my permanent state. Meanwhile I ply myself with vitamin C, raw meat, wheat germ and other wholesome things and look forward to the day (quite soon) when I will be able to work again. How very strange the body is. I’m sending along Tamarack with my story, which is rather different from the one I last sent you. Affectionately, Joyce Joan has had ‘editorial’ problems but they are solved. She called yesterday & said she had her page-proofs & all has been fixed as she wanted it. But why must one have these torments along the way? As if writing weren’t hard enough in itself! I hope you’re having lovely fall weather like ours & are feeling well, & strong.



[Toronto,] Nov. 17th, 1974 Dear Gabrielle, You’ll be relieved to know that the Windflower proofs have come and been attended to. I mailed them back Friday the 15th. Printers made only one mistake. And of course the dear L.X. couldn’t resist proving his independence by writing a somewhat impertinent letter. ‘We’ (i.e. the firm) ordinarily just correct typographical errors and do not make stylistic changes of this sort, he claimed. How officious! I drew 17 deep

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breaths and decided not to make any reply, just a note pointing to the printing error. Luckily Jack told me to bill him directly; L.X. would certainly ‘lose’ my invoice. I hope you are well and thriving. As luck would have it, the proofs of my own book also arrived this week and so I am a bit pressée. You will understand, I know, if I don’t write more now.



Affectionately, Joyce

Quebec, November 23, 1974 Dear Joyce, Thank you for your note. I am relieved to hear that at long last you are through with the proofs of Windflower and I am glad that I did not have to deal with Mr. L.X., although I think he is meaner with you than with me but no more dependable with me. Specially in the state of poor health in which I linger. I have had to go to the hospital almost every day during the last month for treatment of both my maxillary sinuses which remain dreadfully infected in spite of high doses of antibiotics and anti histaminics – you know how depressive they are. Now they are trying high doses of B complex vitamins and after ten days of daily injections there seems to be a slight amelioration. If only I can escape the operation! Then to add a last touch to my misery, I caught a piece of dirt or coal in my eye as I was leaving for the hospital, which I had removed as soon as I arrived, and would you believe it the darn little piece of coal was as sharp as a needle and had perforated the cornea of my right eye. As a result I have what they call an ulcerated cornea and a bandage over my face which makes me look very much like Long John Silver243 or some other very picturesque character. I am writing this letter as best I can. Fortunately the eye is not sore any more, after twenty-four hours of dreadful pain. As they say in French: ‘Il pleut sur les chats mouillés ...’244 which means that one piece of ill-luck attracts another and another.

243 A pirate captain in Treasure Island (1883), written by Scottish writer Robert Louis Stevenson (1850–94). 244 Literally, ‘It rains on wet cats.’

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I have read your long short story and found it well constructed and holding the interest, though I was a little jarred perhaps by the ending. After going over the whole thing in my mind, I was quite satisfied that this, on the contrary, was the proper ending. A good story, Joyce! I have a special fondness for your writing such as your beautiful and oh so simple ‘Little White Girl.’ But of course that’s the kind of story even a gifted writer can only write once in a while throughout a lifetime. Thanks for handling Windflower and everything



Affectionately yours Gabrielle

[Toronto,] Nov. 29, 1974 Dear Gabrielle, I was distressed to hear about the accident to your eye. What a wretched thing! And anything to do with the eyes is so painful. I do hope it is quite better now. Let me know what you are able to do. Your sinuses too – I do hope you will be able to avoid the operation. I had never heard the little saying about wet cats; I don’t think we have any proverb that says precisely that in English though certainly it is true everywhere. I think the L.X. was simply trying to bait me and that I did just the right thing by failing to bite at it. There simply isn’t time in one’s life to quarrel with him, though one wonders why a person feels required to make remarks like that; I’m sure any self-respecting writer makes some improvements in style etc. My own galleys provided the usual headaches – that is a job I loathe above all others. And the silly little editor made 7 or 8 changes after I saw the manuscript – all of them wrong and all having to be changed back. And a bad grammatical mistake turned up – my mistake and I’m glad I caught it. But that’s the sort of thing editors should look for instead of trying to impose their own style here and there. Ah well. The unfortunate thing is that we don’t seem to have any good editors in this country and, until we do, how can we have a real publishing industry? Thanks for what you said about my story. I admit that I myself have certain tender feelings about the little white girl and wish that some

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theme would come to me that could be treated in that sort of way. But it will have to be something that grows in my mind for a long long time. Or at least it will have to be the right theme. And one never does know what themes will come and when – and why. I do hope you will have better news when you write next.



affectionately, Joyce

Quebec, December 5, 1974 Dear Joyce, I am slowly emerging from the various small ills, ailments, worse to endure, I am inclined to believe, than a real, a noble illness. Well, this morning I went through the allergy tests. This was a rather merry gathering, comprising a bee man stuck by one of his hives, an old rather decrepit man from the country who was at lost245 because he no longer had any sense of smell – even of a nice young woman, which, he claims, was one of the worst things that can happen to a virile man, and so forth. But I have no allergies, only an obstinate sinus infection, which seems to give in a bit. I still have to be careful with my eye, work or write no longer than about an hour a day. I am giving you to-day, with real joy – my one hour. I have a feeling that I am worse of[f] from all the medication which I took by mouth, by vein, by nose and throat than from my obscure and silly nose and throat and chest predicament. Don’t worry. I am slowly pulling through, although I have lost in the process – only temporarily I hope – the sparkle or extra sensitivity, whatever it is that for you and for me is our raison de vivre.246 Is it worth while looking so much after the body to be left in the end with not even the power to concentrate? In three days I have lost my watch, my scarf, my gloves and probably something immaterial far more precious. This is due, I believe, mostly to the horrible antihistaminics. Do you remember how you loathed them when you took them at the time you were disgorging salt by the bushel?

245 That is, ‘at a loss.’ 246 ‘reason for living’

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I am sorry that you had to correct your editor’s own errors as you went along correcting proofs. This sort of things seem to happen everywhere and all the time these days. Are we not a bit foolish to go on? Yet it is a better life in the end than that of others ... or is it?



Affectionately Gabrielle

[Toronto,] December 11, 1974 Dear Gabrielle, Your letter of December 5th relieves my mind about you somewhat but I’m sorry that you still must undergo all these treatments and ingest so many remedies. (I do indeed remember the anti-histamines with horror. I think I would almost have to be forcibly fed before I would submit to any more.) But whatever intangible and precious thing the drug has caused you to lose, it hasn’t been your sense of humour in any case. I was charmed by your picture of the merry group having allergy tests. I do hope the poor old man will recover his sense of smell; honest and simple pleasures are indeed few. Life gets sillier and sillier. I was amazed to learn (by television) the other night that ‘Canadian food’ is currently all the rage in Paris; there is even a big restaurant on the Champs247 that sells nothing else. The basic foodstuffs are all ours, the recipes the work of some dark strange chef hidden somewhere. Pancakes and maple syrup are featured but as the syrup is thought to be too insipid in natural state, whisky is added. Restigouche salmon is sloshed up and served as ‘salmon croquettes with Ketchup sauce.’ Frenchmen (and women) were pictured happily eating this stuff – drinking large glasses of Canadian whisky, of course. Ah well. I am trying to recover from the galleys and accept the fact that the book is now going from me, for good or ill. I do feel, most of the time, that it is the best life. But why does one persist in dreaming of the ideal

247 The Champs-Élysées.

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editor, one who knows something about style or at least that when I use a certain word it is because I intended to use that word? The usual Christmas greeting will be coming later.



affectionately, Joyce

[Early December 1974]248

[UNICEF Christmas card] Dear Joyce,

Yes I am most pleased with the introduction by Malcolm Ross.249 It is, compared, to the other, as a star to the flicker of a cigarette butt. I phoned Jack the same day I received it, couldn’t reach him but told his secretary my satisfaction. She seemed greatly relieved as if some doom had been taken away. I suppose, I will never understand these people. They do the most damning things to you and yet act as if they really love you, which I suppose they do me. My dear, I am terribly sorry for the title.250 Such a beautiful one! So much in your line and so well-fitted to the book it seems. Well, if you cannot change it, don’t make yourself sick over the coincidence. You know it happens every day. Lately I came across three La montagne sacrée. Fortunately, no one had thought of secrète, for I would be in the lot.251 My eye is improving. I wish you a fine Christmas, deep joy from your readers to-be and a great new year.



Affectionately yours Gabrielle

248 Probable date. See JM–GR, 19 April 1975, in which JM quotes GR’s words here about the cigarette butt. See also references to GR’s eye injury in GR–JM, 23 November 1974, and JM–GR, 29 November 1974. 249 Taking advantage of a reprinting of the New Canadian Library edition of The Hidden Mountain, Malcolm Ross, the series’ editor, offered to write a new introduction to the volume. 250 See note 252. 251 That is, in the same case as the authors of the three Montagne sacrée’s.

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[Toronto,] Dec. 15, 1974 Dear Gabrielle, Many thanks for your note. I knew you would be happy about the introduction. Jack did indeed seem to be walking on pins when he wrote to me – or whatever it is one walks on in these circumstances. I know it’s different things in French and English but can’t think of either. I can’t remember his exact wording but it was something about that he wanted to know ‘not necessarily whether I liked it but whether I thought there was anything specifically wrong with it.’ I told him there was nothing wrong and that, in fact, I liked it, emphasizing that it was the sort of introduction the series deserved. (I had asked him re Windflower whether there wasn’t anyone anywhere with some power to think and command of language who could write such introductions.) It’s true, of course, that he has great affection and respect for you and was distressed that the earlier effort had got through. Also he doesn’t like anyone to be treated with the sort of indifference and even scorn that they often receive from his minions. It seems, by the way, that my title won’t be changed. My editor wants to keep it – unless I can immediately think of another as good. And I can’t. None of the other story-titles enfolds the whole book as ‘A Private Place’ does and to find some title from outside, taking another tack, would take months – as Windflower did. Several people thought I should tell Callaghan so I wrote him a note a few days ago, treating the whole matter rather lightly and making it clear (subtly, I hope) that I’ve had the title a long time.252 I like him and he’s always been friendly to me but he has a tendency to get prickly and even to feel persecuted (as

252 Writer Morley Callaghan (1903–90) was about to publish his novel A Fine and Private Place (1975). He did not wish to change his title, and suggested that JM search for one in the works of Shakespeare and others (JM, letter to Jane Everett, 23 October 2000). The phrase is taken from the poem ‘To His Coy Mistress’ written by English poet Andrew Marvell (1621–78): ‘The grave’s a fine and private place, / But none, I think, do there embrace’ (lines 31–2).

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you know)253 and I didn’t want him to think I had deliberately latched onto part of his title. The interesting thing is that the title is the third his book has had – two others were discarded because of similarities to others! Of course I’d prefer to have my title all to myself but such a thing is always likely to happen – especially when one leans on wellknown poems. I hope you are continuing to improve, dear Gabrielle, and that 1975 will see much better things for you.



affectionately, Joyce

Quebec, March 15, 1975 Dear Joyce, It was nice to hear from you at long last.254 I have been most indolent in my letter writing this winter, partly through fatigue and partly because of the effect of some medicine which made me indifferent to most tasks, even those that I had found so pleasant not long ago. I seem to be improving – but more from the milder weather than anything else according to my opinion, since I now have started going out for a walk every day, which I try to lengthen as much as possible. Still, there is quite an improvement. I am still awoke coughing once or twice during the night, but the bronchitis seems to255 weaken. I’m to see another doctor this following week, that is next Wednesday, for the maxillary sinuses, and what to decide. Some of my doctors are in favour of an operation which would do away with a source of infection, others say I would be no better afterwards, or at best, not worst.

253 This refers to Callaghan’s refusal of the medal of service of the Order of Canada, in December 1967. In July of that same year, GR, Hugh MacLennan, and F.R. Scott had been made Companions of the Order of Canada. As the Globe and Mail noted at the time, ‘[t]he medal [of service] rates second to the Companion’; Callaghan was quoted in the same article as saying that the judges were entitled to their opinion, ‘“[b]ut I think they’re out of their minds to expect me to accept the medal and accept their judgment of my work as second-class”’ (Globe and Mail, 23 December 1967, 1). 254 Either a telephone call from JM or a letter that has not been found. 255 GR: too

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What a prospect! Marcel feels that I would be helped more if I spent most of the winter in a mild climate and I am beginning to agree with him. But where to go for so long a time, each winter. One would have to live like the migratory birds. But then they do256 not have to reserve rooms a year in advance, book plane tickets four months in advance and so forth and so forth. Too bad I did not discover a really comfortable apartment in that little Tour[r]ettes of mine, two winters ago, for it’s about the most healthy little spot for climate and sunshine I have ever come across in my life. Perhaps if I had a companion, I could search the region for a house or something. Or even search in some little place in Florida, not just on the coast. There are inland towns of some charm back of Daytona beach, for example. I really don’t quite know what to decide. Perhaps the summer will strengthen me sufficiently to make a decision for next winter. I have heard people extoll the climate of Menton, which is sheltered and sunny but one would have to live at the hotel, and I can’t see myself spending four or five months in the year, eating in a hotel dining room. Once in a while would be pleasant, but not everlastingly. Accom[m]odations such as we have in our country or such as in the United States are not frequent in the South of France, except perhaps to be rented by the year and in the most expensive areas. You see, I have gone over many possibilities already, for most doctors, after they have done their best for me, come out with the advice: Go away for the winter. Still you must not think that I am so poorly. I have improved a lot since our last letters and I am quite able to look up whatever little difficulties you have listed as you proceeded in your translation of Cet été ... So don’t hesitate to send them to me. Now is as good a time as ever. Yes, on the whole, Windflower of the collection, is a good little book to look at. Your translation is superb. I glanced at it here and there and marveled at its crystal-clear quality. The new edition of The Hidden Mountain with Malcolm Ross’ foreword has not come out yet, although Jack had said: around January. I hope they are not backing on the project. I have – reluctantly – given Beauchemin a manuscript of short

256 GR: no

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stories – real short stories this time. I mean with no link between them except perhaps a sort of climate, the title being: Un jardin au bout du monde taken from the longest of the stories.257 I have a feeling that you may enjoy translating these stories, if, of course, they come up for translation later on. How anxious you must be for your own book to come out! For after all, we can only begin to forget a piece of work once it has been published. And all the nervousness and misery we go through! I am sorry for Joan too who has had to wait so long and after so much torments from her editor. I am very eager to see her book. Another one, in French, all about me, has come out, two weeks ago, which is quite good in most of its contents.258 It also contains a lot of photographs from the far away ancestors to almost to-day so that it gives me the impression of having become something in a sense unchangeable, which is about the worst feeling one can experience. Still it is a very well-meaning, beautifully written book. I could perhaps send you a copy that you might later pass on to Jack, what do you think? for I am not very rich in copies. Still he would hardly be able to read in French. The thing is, however, would he be pleased to receive a copy. I shall look forward to hear from you soon. So far, I repeat, I am fairly well. Only hope that the new set of medicine that I am just starting will not depress me as the old one. Bless you dear, keep well! By the way, I enquired about M.Z. from the Madeleines who have acquaintances in Les Éboulements. According to them – and I am giving you the news for what they are worth – M.Z. and her husband don’t get along very well. She has taken up drinking again, see[s] few people, is sickly, and the atmosphere in her

257 GR was working on Un jardin au bout du monde, a collection of four short stories (‘Un vagabond frappe à notre porte,’ ‘Où iras-tu Sam Lee Wong?’ ‘La vallée Houdou,’ and ‘Un jardin au bout du monde’) published a short time later by Beauchemin (1975). In Alan Brown’s translation, Garden in the Wind (1977), the stories are entitled ‘A Tramp at the Door,’ ‘Where Will You Go, Sam Lee Wong?’ ‘Hoodoo Valley,’ and ‘Garden in the Wind’ respectively. 258 GR is referring to François Ricard’s monograph, Gabrielle Roy, published in 1975 by Fides in its Écrivains canadiens d’aujourd’hui series. The essay was recently reissued with a new title, Introduction à l’oeuvre de Gabrielle Roy (1945–1975), 2d ed., Visées critiques (Quebec: Éditions Nota bene, 2001).

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home is one of tension. Sad isn’t [it]? Poor, poor soul, I guess she has been lost in her own private hell since a long time ago. The Madeleines seem to think this last marriage was a bad mistake, the new husband being out to find a feather nest259 (according to hearsay).



Affectionately yours Gabrielle

[Toronto,] March 18, 1975 Dear Gabrielle, I was so delighted to have your letter and learn that you are feeling not too badly. I hope that with almost-spring you will continue to improve. And I hope you won’t let yourself be stampeded into the operation – in view of the fact that all doctors don’t agree. These sinus things are so tricky from all one hears. But before I go further into matters suggested by your letter, I must mention one thing. A man named John Reeves phoned me a few days after I last wrote.260 I don’t know him personally, just by reputation as one of the best photographers in the country. He’d been told that you could be approached through me – by whom, I don’t know. He would like to photograph you for a group of photographs of ‘Canadian Women’ sponsored by the National Film Board to be shown this summer in the Conference Centre in Ottawa. Later there may be a book. The photograph would have to be taken before the end of April. I told him you had not been well and I was hoping to hear from you soon. So we left it at that. I have his number and if you reply affirmatively he will go down to Quebec at your convenience. He sounded exceedingly pleasant, soft-spoken, nothing brash about him. So will you think it over and let me know? You may feel that nothing would please you

259 That is, ‘being out to feather his nest.’ 260 John Reeves (b. 1938), a well-known portrait photographer. His portrait of GR was first published in the September 1975 issue of Saturday Night, along with a short text in which he describes the sitting (John Reeves, ‘Good Portraits Are Given, Not Taken. Personal Notes from a Photographer’s Diary,’ Saturday Night, September 1975, 26–32).

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less. Or you might enjoy the experience. I’m sure he would produce something good. His work is excellent. You might phone me if you feel like it. I’ll then phone him and, if your reply is yes, he can then make arrangements with you himself. I think that Marcel is right that you should plan to spend winters out of Quebec. But I agree that place is a terrible problem. I wish my means were such that I could afford to go with you. (Misery not only loves but is diminished by company.) But I might be able to join you for a month or so. I wish I had some good suggestions. Mexico, where so many go, is hopeless. Almost everyone gets sick there. I did on my only trip there though I obeyed all the rules about water, raw food etc. There must be good places where you wouldn’t have to camp in a hotel room. I will cast my mind about. Publication for Joan’s book is now March 25 – can’t remember whether I told you that. She begins to fear there will be some other postponement. As for mine, still no news. But I daresay it will be along in its own good time and, as soon as I have copies, you will have one. I would be delighted to read the new book about you, if you have one to spare. And as for Jack, I’m sure he’d be pleased that you thought of him, even if he can’t read it. And don’t be too depressed about being surrounded by your ancestors. We all are whether or not we know it. Poor M.Z. I am not really surprised. A letter from her last spring made me fear the marriage was not happy. But when you told me during the summer that he was taking good care of her, I thought I might be mistaken and that her letter was just written on a bad day (such as we all have). I must send her a note. Not that I can help much. She is very deep in whatever it is that torments her. But I can tell her about my book and let her know I think of her. Of all things I developed another abscessed tooth. Luckily it was quickly diagnosed and my own dentist was able to pull out the rotten nerve. I have a dressing in it now and must go back again on Thursday. But seemingly I have been spared the banging and bruising of the surgeon’s assembly-line which I had to undergo last year. Such a performance. I don’t know whether I told you at the time that after he had dug up to the crucial point, he threw a towel over my eyes and upper face, drew something out, stitched rapidly with a lot of grey thread, then ran out of the room. Anyway, in a few days I will start sending you a few queries re Cet été which you can then answer at your leisure.

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And don’t forget to let me know how you feel about being photographed among Canadian Women. All the best affectueusement, Joyce I’m eager to see your short stories. When will they be out?



[Toronto,] April 5, 1975 Dear Gabrielle, Many thanks for sending me the book.261 I have enjoyed reading it. The young man is sensitive and sympathetic; I always tend to feel that ‘critics’ go on and on, and he does this of course to some extent. But he suggests thoughts and questions that one can continue on one’s own and that is the most and best one can expect from ‘criticism.’ I was very much charmed by the photographs. What a dear little mouse you were at eighteen months! I’m sure it’s not because I know you now that I see this as a picture of a very special little girl – so delicately made yet with something very firm about her. The portraits of your grandparents are just as you described them – a marvellous contrast. Your mother has a most beautiful and interesting face – the arch of the nostrils and those winging eyebrows. I will always see that now as the face of Christine’s mother.262 Your father too had a lovely face. Some day I must show you pictures of my parents. I am (or have) a blend of their faces in a very curious way. While we are on the subject of photographs, I reached John Reeves after a few days and he has probably been in touch with you now. I’ll be interested to hear how it comes out. By the way, M.Z. called one night, a few days after you and I spoke on the phone. She talked for more than an hour – rather incoherent, sometimes hard to hear, desperately unhappy. This marriage seems to be a misery for her. She has sold her car and seems to live in isolation

261 François Ricard’s Gabrielle Roy (see note 258). 262 Christine is the narrator and main character of Rue Deschambault (Street of Riches) and La route d’Altamont (The Road Past Altamont).

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with only her kind neighbours, Ernest and Noëla Tremblay, to take her now and then to Baie St Paul. I cannot imagine what will come of this – or of her life finally. She knows she has made an error in judgement and feels humiliated by this. I tried to tell her that we all make terrible errors in our judgement of people and that one must simply try to push on from the results of the error. I feel very depressed about her and not hopeful of my ability to do anything but express sympathy. And I remember her when she was 18 and say: Were the seeds of all this present in that fresh warm-hearted charming young girl? I suppose they were. In the meantime I am still awaiting the appearance of my book. I now hear that there is a printing delay, my publisher is frantic and the printer keeps saying ‘24 hours, 24 hours, 24 hours ...’ while three weeks go by. My insides are clenched like a fist and I find it very hard to work. I know there are more grave and dreadful troubles than mine. For instance, I am not struggling down a road with a few possessions, trying to get away from bombs. I know all this. I even feel it. But my stomach goes on feeling like a clenched fist. Well, there is no use going on about this. The tension will end in due course. Meanwhile thanks again for the book and be sure to let me know your final decision about the operation.



My fondest wishes, Joyce

[Toronto,] April 19, 1975 Dear Gabrielle, Though the news suggests you’re not getting mail in Québec, I thought I’d write anyway to give you a couple of pieces of news – in case you haven’t heard them. Malcolm Ross has asked me to do the introduction for Road in the N.C.L.263 & I have consented. My first reaction was that I was much too close, my second (and final) one that I do have thoughts about the book & will at least do better than some we know of. I’ve started to jot down

263 McClelland and Stewart’s New Canadian Library series.

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a few thoughts. This is rather a challenge to my opinion, expressed in my last letter, that ‘critics’ tend to ‘go on and on’! By the way, the new printing of Mountain is now in the shops with Ross’s introduction. I saw it some days ago. Have they not sent you copies? Let me know & I’ll jog them. Ross, when we spoke, said that though Jack sent him a xerox of my letter he had not been told of your reaction, which I assured him was most favourable. So, at his request, I copied out & mailed to him a little paragraph from one of your letters in which you compared his introduction to the former one as a star to the flicker of a cigarette butt.264 There was something most touching, I thought, in his desire to know – and see – exactly what you had said. I am anxious to hear what you decide finally about the operation and trust you will let me know when you do decide. I myself was felled a few days ago by some sort of flu that involves, as well as coughing & blowing, mysterious but shifting ‘pains in the neck.’ I’m somewhat better today but not yet well enough to go out or to sit at the typewriter. So I’m writing this note to you, in a very leisurely way with pauses between sentences. The one cheering thing about being sick is that for a week or more I’d been feeling very tired & out of sorts & displeased by almost everything. Now all this falls into place as ‘signs of incipient flu.’ Joan is ‘still waiting for her book.’ So am I!



All the best, affectionately, Joyce

Quebec, April 30th, 1975 Dear Joyce, I’m happy to hear that you have accepted to write the introduction to the Road. Know how you must feel. It is so difficult to write about one close to us, to keep the necessary distance, yet have warmth and affection. But I have no fear: you will achieve something remarkable. By the way, no I have not received the new Hidden Mountain. Other-

264 See GR–JM, Early December 1974 [Christmas card].

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wise I would have written a word of thanks and praise to Malcolm Ross. I will do so later. Please ask McClelland to send me my allotted number of copies. Perhaps, owing to the strike, they have been mailed but have not reached me yet. Will you find out? My doctors are almost sure about the operation, in favour of, but strangely, since a few days I have begun to feel better. Isn’t this sort of thing maddening? As a matter of fact, I have started improving the moment the snow disappeared from the ground. Am I allergic to snow? Or just dirty snow? Still, the improvement may be only temporary. Yet why should it occur just a few days before I should at last make up my mind for good about the operation! Ah well, let the gods decide! Thanks for your lovely letter. Affectionately yours Gabrielle I am so sorry about your book taking all this time to come out. Writers should not have to put up with such torture. They already go through enough in doing their work. Patience! Et longueur de temps! ... said the fabulist.265 I just thought: almost any of your letters to me would be as good an introduction as one can imagine. You just have to let yourself go and it pours out beautifully, truthfully and with a singular grace. Oh my, why should you be afraid! But then, this fear goes with real talent, always, I think.



Yours G.

265 The reference is to a pair of lines from ‘Le lion et le rat’ (‘The Lion and the Rat’), one of the fables of Jean de La Fontaine (1621–95): ‘Patience et longueur de temps / Font plus que force ni que rage’ (‘Patience and time / Accomplish more than force and fury’).

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Quebec, May 2, 1975 Dear Joyce, A note in a hurry to say I have received your lovely looking, if a bit stern, long-awaited book. I am most eager to plunge in. Perhaps I shall have to postpone a serious reading till after the operation, just about decided now. Any day now I may get the word. Thank you so much for The Private Place. I shall treasure it



With warm wishes Gabrielle

[Toronto,] May 9, 1975 Dear Gabrielle, Your letter of April 30, written before your note, has just arrived so it is this that I am answering today. Maddening indeed that you should feel better just when your mind was pretty well made up about the operation. Meanwhile I think of you every day wondering whether you are in the hospital, about to go to the hospital, have had the operation, are having it. In fact, my thoughts are with you and I look forward to word in due course. I’ll get onto M and S about your copies of The Hidden Mountain next week. In the meantime I’ve jotted down ideas for the introduction and will spring into it quite soon. Also I have reread Street of Riches and Where Nests the Water Hen so as to have your Manitoba writing fresh in my mind, whether or not I refer to them finally to any extent. Really they are marvellous books. I do love re-reading and sometimes think I could happily do nothing else; always something new shines out. Because we are new ourselves, of course, and also because no really artistic book (or piece of writing, for that matter) can give all of itself in one, two or, in fact, any number of readings. I must say I was disappointed in the very dour cover of A Private Place; I would not have sent him that grumpy picture (because I was squinting into the sun) if I’d dreamed he’d put it on the front. (Furthermore he touched it up a bit to make it even grumpier; he’s never seen me.) I have had endless difficulties with that publisher culminating in a dispute about principle which, despite the intervention of others, I

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lost.266 He is known to be a real eccentric and has certainly proved to be such with me. But I should be sending cheery messages to the sick. I have read Joan’s book, which she gave me, and find it excellent throughout. She is indeed most sensitive; I think she has handled you and your books beautifully, just the right note, I think, and none of that Freudian stuff and other rubbish so tempting to biographers. Of course, by the time I’d talked to her for five minutes I was sure you were safe in her hands. The book will appeal to young readers and others less young, I believe. I’m not sure when you will read this. Some time anyway, I know.



with all my best wishes, affectionately, Joyce

Quebec, May 9, 1975 Dear Joyce, Received your kind word yesterday.267 Am still waiting for a room at the hospital. These days people take their turn waiting in the line for operations as one would normally for candy or sweets or even place somewhere. So I am reading your stories. The ones I already knew first as old acquaintances I was happy to renew with. Some new ones too. I read them with the same pleasure. It must be true that a writer of quality has his own voice, unmistakably his, for although I see a profound evolution between say ‘The Old Lady’268 (still a very lovely story) and ‘A Private Place,’ the tone yet has similarity. The books shows a profound unity as well as an advance. I am not through the book yet. I have read at random, which perhaps I shouldn’t, but still I see this change in a sense although always along the same line of searching. There you baffle me a bit. At times I have a feeling that you are about to open up to some hope, more light, and darkness comes on again, or

266 Oberon wanted to identify the copy editor using the phrase ‘edited by ...,’ to which JM objected. The compromise reached, proposed by JM, was ‘Editor:’ followed by the copy editor’s name (JM, letter to Jane Everett, 23 October 2000). 267 This card or letter has not been found. 268 ‘The Old Woman.’

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is it hopelessness, irony of a very subtle nature. In any case, the stories come out very strongly, even more so in the print, in book form even, than typed or in reviews. How can that be I wonder! Perhaps because some of your stories are so dense that they require a second reading before we fully understand them. For instance, ‘Any Time at All,’269 which I had found a little difficult at the first reading – I ask myself why now!270 – now gives me the impression of flowing so very naturally according to its bent. This is only a rough and quick interpretation. I shall write again later about these extraordinary stories. Now, I’m afraid my mind is too hazy to even grasp their full meaning. And then too, I feel that your stories take time to settle down in the reader’s mind, before he becomes aware of what they mean. A beautiful book, Joyce. Stories of a quality one does not often find. I would like to say much more but find it hard to concentrate. Affectionately Gabrielle [In top left-hand corner, GR has added:] Just got word from the hospital. Am entering this Sunday. Will probably be operated two or three days later.



[Toronto,] May 19, 1975 Dear Gabrielle, It was strange that I should write to you last time on the very day you went finally to the hospital. Meanwhile I have thought of you a lot and I hope you are beginning now to be past the worst of it and that the operation will improve your general health and well-being. Joan said you were to be two weeks in the hospital and I’m sure that is a good thing. Thank you for your very perceptive comments on my stories. I often

269 GR wrote ‘Any Time at at all.’ She is referring to the story ‘So Many Have Died,’ which she had first read in the Tamarack Review 62 (Winter 1974): 9–30. In the first edition of A Private Place, the titles of the two stories were reversed; the error was corrected in the second edition (JM, letter to Jane Everett, 23 October 2000). 270 GR: know

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found myself wondering as I prepared the book whether the stories as a group amounted to enough, whether (as the saying goes) they ‘made a statement.’ Now I wonder just why I happened to write these particular stories, what I had in mind and what finally I do think about life. I guess I do feel that we live on the edge of an abyss but that is not all I feel. In fact, my last word hasn’t been said. No doubt it never will be. I have seen only one review so far and that was in last Saturday’s Globe and Mail.271 It was excellent and to me most gratifying. This particular reviewer writes well, has standards and formulates opinions well. (So many are wishy washy.) She summed up the stories very briefly and intelligently and – what is most satisfying to the suffering author – made them sound interesting. She didn’t offer any general comments about theme etc. I had had nightmares about who might review the book locally – there are some who can make praise sound even worse than dispraise – and now feel strengthened to endure the idiocies that are bound to come. As you well know. I have recently glanced through the ‘dossier’ about you and, really, some of the reviews of some of your books are disgraceful! We will not have a mature literary society till we have some better reviewers – I will not call them ‘critics’, though this they all rush to call themselves. It was thoughtful of you to send your first opinions. I always value your views. Some day we will discuss this and perhaps then I will have some clearer idea of what was in my mind. I rather imagine that in some of the stories I was exploring a particular vein and that it is now explored. In other words, I may not write anything more about violence – or anarchy or whatever it is. I see ‘The Little White Girl’ as a sort of key to much of my thinking – a sense that I feel very strongly that a particular sort of love and truth does exist even though we glimpse it only briefly. The last story,272 which was the one I found hardest to write, says something of this too, I hope. 271 The review by novelist Marian Engel (1933–85), ‘Silence Shattered by Quality,’ appeared in the Globe and Mail on Saturday, 17 May 1975, 35. The first paragraph reads: ‘Let us welcome Joyce Marshall back to fiction with a plume and a flourish. After many years of editing and translating and goodness knows what else, she has produced a sombre-looking collection of short stories that is a gratifying witness to growth. We should all break long silences with such quality.’ She goes on to characterize the stories as ‘intriguingly original’ and observes, in her conclusion, that ‘[t]he writing in these stories, the quality of the use of words, the subtlety and richness, is a kind of wonderful justification for passing time.’ 272 ‘Any Time at All.’

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But I don’t know when you will be well enough to wade through all of this. In the meantime I send you my warmest thoughts and love.



Affectionately, Joyce

Quebec, May 29, 1975 Dear Joyce, Now with this book – on the heels of Summer – and the introduction to The Road, you shall have, as mother used to say: ‘du pain sur la planche.’ Have you the equivalent in English, meaning, I suppose, plenty to do ahead of us, but also the idea carries one of riches, of abundant supplies. It seems that we two have been industrious as beavers. For my part, all these stories have been written a few years ago except the story about the lone chinaman I did last summer.273 I’m picking up slowly, bit by bit. It is as if I were pulling myself from heavy soil, way down a deep pit. No energy, no ambition, no care even. Just plain indifference. I shall soon go to Petite Rivière where the good air might help to lift me from this sod.274 Affectionately Gabrielle However, my three other and older short stories were all completely rewritten – with very slight changes but continuous through the whole narrative – which is, perhaps, more difficult I sometimes feel, than writing fresh stuff. G. [Along top margin, GR has written:] The more I think of your stories, the stronger they appear to me, in structure, meaning, wonderful tense, terse writing, in power and resonance. G.



273 GR is referring to the story ‘Où iras-tu Sam Lee Wong?’ (see note 257). 274 Possibly ‘soil.’

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[Toronto,] June 25, 1975 Dear Gabrielle, I have read your stories now and they are lovely, most beautifully and skilfully written – and touching, almost heartbreakingly so as your writing always is. I think they balance one another most excellently to make a book. (And I see that the title story is indeed the one of which you spoke to me as we walked together at Petite.)275 I have spoken to M and S and am informed that the ms of Été should be turned in at the end of October if we want spring publication.276 Could we then plan to meet early in October? I know it is impossible to make this definite so far in advance but offer it as a suggestion towards which we should work. It ought to be quite okay for me – barring a catastrophe of some most dire and desperate sort. And I don’t imagine that you will be going away for the winter before that. You’ll forgive me for not writing much today as I am rather frantic finishing things up before I go. But I did want you to have some word about your stories. I hope you will have a good summer and that the sun and the sea, not to speak of reflective walks along the little railway track, will restore you to your old self. affectionately, Joyce I have had several letters, phone calls etc etc from M.Z. and it seems that she has barred the door to her new husband though he still lurks nearby. Perhaps you’ve heard this.



[Toronto,] Sept. 24, 1975 Dear Gabrielle, It was nice talking to you. Did you get your new antibiotic and has it done some good? In any event, I hope you will feel well enough for our final session of work on the translation. 275 JM is referring to the story ‘Garden in the Wind.’ ‘She told me she’d walked hour after hour, day after day, in Marcel’s little garden in the wind, getting the atmosphere for her story.’ (JM, letter to Jane Everett, 31 August 2001.) 276 JM was translating Cet été qui chantait for McClelland and Stewart.

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Would the week beginning Monday October 20th be suitable for you? I would plan to arrive Sunday night ready to start working Monday morning. I will have a copy of the script ready to be mailed to you about a week in advance. If there should be a mail strike I can take the script down to CN (or CP) express to be delivered that way – unless McClelland and Stewart has some sort of courier. I remember ‘mailing’ a package by express on at least one occasion in the past – it was rather a costly letter but it did get through! I enclose a small list of things I haven’t been able to trace,277 for you to look at before I come. YOU NEED NOT WRITE TO ME ABOUT THESE. Just look at them and we will discuss them when I come. By the way, I will not be able to bring many dictionaries, reference books etc – just one French-English dictionary and my invaluable Roget – more would lead to broken back and shoulders. But you have some dictionaries and useful references yourself, of course. Let me know if October 20th suits you okay and I will plan to come.



All the best, affectionately, Joyce

Quebec, September 28, 1975 Dear Joyce, The week beginning Monday October 20th will be fine. I am improving a little, so ought to be able to be of help, as I dearly hope. Anyhow the joy of seeing you, chatting with you, after too many years, will raise me up. I have been working a little on the small list you sent me, and will tell you what I found out on the next page, in case it may come in handy for you.278 I will continue to search in one or two cases. With fond regards and impatiently looking forward to have you



Gabrielle

277 This list is given in appendix E. 278 See appendix E (this is a reference to the list mentioned in the previous letter and in the following one).

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[Toronto,] Oct. 10, 1975 Dear Gabrielle, Herewith a xerox of the script and I do hope a strike does not catch it midway. But sufficient to the day is the evil thereof – i.e. let us not worry about that until and if we need. There will be a good deal for us to work at, though when I reread, I was fairly pleased with some parts. I put some marginal pencil notes on the original. You may or may not be able to read these. If not, never mind. I will be going through the whole thing very carefully again before we meet and that will give me a chance to have a fresh look at it. For some reason I always had a lot of trouble with the first page.279 Much of that is still not right yet, I think. I will arrive in Quebec on the train Sunday night. I have to spend the week-end in Montreal, going down there Friday night. I tell you this just in case for some strange reason you want to reach me. The address there is John Claxton, **** Côte St Antoine; I don’t know the phone number. Perhaps you might give me a quick call at home here to let me know this has arrived. (Or if there’s a you-know-what I’ll be in touch with you myself about alternatives.) affectionately, Joyce It will be very nice to see you! Thanks for your answers to my comments. I think it is most amusing that I was searching so wildly in all the books for a sort of birch that had horse or horse’s hoof in its name!



279 ‘G told me she had had great trouble with this page, which we thought might explain my difficulties.’ (JM, letter to Jane Everett, 31 August 2001.)

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Quebec, February 5, 1976 Dear Joyce, It was most thoughtful of you to send me the Munro’s stories. Last night I started right away my reading and before I knew it I was halfway through the book, which is rare for me when I read short stories, usually taking only one at the time. Alice Munro certainly has the knack of the short story telling and does it with a queer artistry almost on the border line of wizardry ... and all with the most simple words and devices ... apparently. They are tremendously good. Thank you, Joyce. I think I like this book even more than Lives of Girls and Women. Take, for instance, the story entitled ‘Material.’280 The reversal at the end is brought in with uncanny truth and perception. I do admire this kind of writing tremendously. Jack is searching a new translator for me.281 Somehow I feel a little disinterested. He came out with the name of Sheila Fischman claiming that she has achieved quite a reputation with the translation of Roch Carrier’s and Hubert Aquin’s books,282 both quite difficult to do, I should imagine, particularly Aquin. Have you heard of her? Have you an opinion on the matter? If there were some important news you wished to convey to me on the subject, would you be kind enough to phone, or perhaps write immediately. For some reason, Jack seems to wish to decide soon on this matter. I’m always somewhat tormented when a new translator has to be found for me. Well, thanks again for the precious gift of the stories, and your kind word inscribed on the front page.



Yours affectionately Gabrielle

280 ‘Material’ is one of the stories in Alice Munro’s collection Something I’ve Been Meaning to Tell You. 281 While in Quebec City, JM had told GR that she couldn’t continue as her translator. 282 By 1976, Fischman had translated several works by Roch Carrier, among them the well-known novel La guerre, yes sir! (1968), published in English with the same title in 1970. Writer Hubert Aquin (1929–77) was one of Quebec’s foremost practitioners of the avant-garde novel, hence GR’s remark. Hamlet’s Twin, Fisch-man’s translation of Aquin’s Neige noire (1974), was published by McClelland and Stewart in 1974.

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Apt. 304, 105 Isabella St. Toronto, March 22, 1976 Dear Gabrielle, I have been meaning to write to you for so long – ever since we spoke briefly on the phone that time. I always miss you when a space goes by without my hearing from you. I do hope you are well. I have just returned the edited copy of ÉTÉ after going through it very carefully three times. The editor283 has made a few minor changes and I have made a few. She will now transfer these to the original (we were working on a xerox) and I have asked her to make two copies of the final original, one for you, one for me. (I hope I’ve made this clear.) I thought you would like to see the tiny changes that have been made. I think it reads quite well. In fact, very well! Since we spoke, I’ve had what seems to be my annual winter flu. Strangely every mutation of the virus seems able to make a home with me though I am on the whole so healthy. I wasn’t as sick as some people were but had a rather high fever and it took me a while to get my legs back. Anyway, spring seems to have started – or at least it starts and stops! – and I think we need it after this difficult winter, which has broken records in these parts. A man called me one day on his way down to Quebec to interview you for The Canadian.284 He sounded nice, most sympathetic and very fond of your work. He wanted me to tell him some ‘anecdotes’ but I told him he’d do better to wait and talk to you. For one thing I was still feeling ill and couldn’t think of any ‘anecdotes’ and for another I don’t like the idea of being ‘interviewed’ about someone else over the telephone by a stranger. There was no danger of my saying anything bad or embarrassing about you, of course, but I don’t think this is a good way to get material for an interview. Anyway, I hope you liked him and found him sympathetic. I had a note from Margaret Laurence yesterday and she mentioned

283 Lily Miller. 284 David Cobb’s article, ‘“I Have, I Think, a Grateful Heart”: Gabrielle Roy – Perhaps the Best-Read, Least-Known Novelist in Canada,’ appeared in the Canadian, 1 May 1976, 10–14.

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having corresponded with you.285 She is an extremely warm-hearted woman; I hope you two can meet some time. I heard from M.Z. recently and it seems she slipped on some ice outside her door and was rushed to the hospital with a hairline crack in her iliac.286 Painful but not too hard to cure apparently. Do write when you can and give me your news.



Affectionately, Joyce

Quebec, March 26, 1976 Dear Joyce, [...] On the other hand, I am happy to hear that the final corrections are being made on Cet été. It seems that Jack made up his mind without really consulting me in the end, that the title should be Enchanted Summer or The Enchanted Summer, I am not quite sure. I think I will let them have their way as I cannot myself find anything better, and this may be fairly good, after all. What is your feeling?287 I am sure that by now with your last minute look over and straightening here and straightening there, it must read quite well indeed. Alan Brown is to translate Un jardin au bout du monde. I suppose I am lucky to have him and should look forward to a good piece of work, but I can’t help regretting that our wonderful association is over. I feel an emptiness and the sentiment that it will never be the same again for me, no matter how good a translator I may have. But I understand and approve your decision. Margaret Laurence must indeed have a large heart. After my reply to her good letter, in which I happened to say – which I shouldn’t – that I still had not read The Diviners,288 having not been well and so forth, lo! 285 These letters have since been published in Intimate Strangers: The Letters of Margaret Laurence and Gabrielle Roy, ed. Paul Socken (Winnipeg: University of Manitoba Press, 2004). 286 In left-hand margin, JM has added: ‘Iliac? Is that in the hip? Or the pelvis? Ask Marcel.’ 287 Enchanted Summer was published in 1976 by McClelland and Stewart. 288 Published in 1974, this would be Margaret Laurence’s last novel.

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She sends me the hardcover edition with another letter and a word to me in the book. How generous of her! and how naive of me with a person of her sort to confess that I didn’t yet own the book. Oh, well, I shall try to amend. I’m sorry about your attack of flu this winter. What worries me is that you should run such fever. Do you eat sufficiently and regularly, and of a sufficient variety? Sometimes, I have the feeling that you may not look after your health as you should. Of course, our endless, gray winters are much to289 blame for many of our ailments. Myself, I have picked up a little, not a great deal, although I still have those coughing, choking sessions much too often. It is almost worse since the thaw. All this dirty snow around our building seem to do me no good. And then later, it is the foliage. We should find a handsome rock in the middle of the desert, clean and pure, washed by the wind alone, to go and live there in a tent. I might be perfectly well, but to what avail! Caring no more for people, country, folks, family! No, it is better to endure our life amongst the suffering lot. Still if you and I went to Provence, we might find quite a happy nook. This man who called you on his way to Quebec must have been David Cobb. I found him a good listener, a kind man – at least in his manners with me – and I think a very genuine person. So had you thought of ‘anecdotes’, they would not have fallen in the wrong ear. But out of the blue, like that, how could you have thought of anecdotes although if we started looking for them we probably could find them by the bush[el]ful. After all, who could write a better story on me than you, my dear.290 Now it remains to see what my David Cobb will do with all his gatherings. I am still a little afraid of interviews – was taken by surprise this time again – but not frightened to death as I used to [be]. Perhaps, now, the fear is attenuated by the feeling that however they dig and I with them, there remains a hidden core to their eyes and my eyes, which is to the best, for therein lies the never rooted secret which alone enables us to continue living. Just imagine the despair if suddenly we knew everything about ourselves291 and saw clearly to the very bottom of the riddle.

289 GR: too 290 See GR–JM, 11 June 1973. 291 GR: yourselves

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The interview for the Canadian Magazine is to appear, I believe, around the end of April, with possibly a photograph by Reeves and some inside ones which were taken by a hairy stranger in my living room, after the session with Cobb, and when I had been told that I was done with them. Ah well, once caught, it is as well to go on to the bitter end as graciously as possible, although I really looked my worse that day and felt I’d rather plunge in the river than submit to the scrutiny292 of this hairy barbarian who moved my furniture around and tracked me as a lioness her prey in the bush. I can laugh now, but that day I cursed myself for having opened the door. Affectionately Gabrielle The iliac is the hip, high part of the pelvis. [Along top margin, GR has written:] I’m looking forward to receive the final ms of Summer but above all, sometime when you are better, for more news from you. G.



[Toronto,] May 2, 1976 Dear Gabrielle, It is so long since your letter; I am really ashamed that I haven’t answered sooner. I’ve been very busy and, through necessity, I’ve had a number of long weekends away, which meant trying to get my work done in 4 or even 3 day weeks. However, now I can speak of reading the interview with you. I thought it very good, very much you. I guess he293 was faithful to what you said. I like the picture of you at the desk. Though you look tired certainly, it is very good for an informal shot of the kind. There was, as I suppose you noticed, one very strange misprint that makes me marvel at the sort of family in which you grew up – a father 18 years younger than your mother, who still, despite

292 GR: scrutinity 293 David Cobb.

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what must have been a fairly advanced age at her marriage, contrived to have a quite remarkable number of children. I hope you were satisfied with the result of the various points you raised about Été. Lily Miller and I discussed them all well and thoroughly and I gather has explained to you the reasons for our decisions in certain cases. (I told her to do this. After all, she has secretarial services; I have not.) She proved to be quite a good editor and a nice girl after what seemed to me a most unpromising beginning. What she showed me at first was almost a rewrite job, the elimination of almost every passage in which you speak as yourself. I delivered a blast over the phone, explaining that you would not consent to this and neither would I. She climbed down at once. So why did she want to do it in the first place? I will never understand these editors. I did not tell you about this at the time as I wanted to make sure that she understood what I meant, in case I would have to go ‘higher up’. Which reminds me that I have been the means of your now having 2 copies of The Diviners. (Or at least you soon will have.) I wrote to Jack in February about various matters that didn’t require immediate reply and suggested that he should send you Margaret’s latest. I assumed he would have done this until you wrote to say Margaret had sent you a copy. Then lo and behold along comes a letter from Jack explaining that my letter had somehow got filed under Rajasthan (whatever that is) and that he had belatedly sent you the book. Perhaps you can give the extra copy to someone: I’m sure Margaret was delighted to send you one. I saw her at the Writers’ Union294 last fall right after I’d been to Quebec and her face lit up when I told her you admired her work and often reminded me that I had been the one who introduced you to it. I’m sure she felt that sending you the book was a very small thing. Very strange things have happened between me and my publisher (Oberon Press). I’d been trying to get my original manuscript back and early in the new year discovered that he sells all his papers, including authors’ manuscripts, to the library at Queen’s. At my insistence he got my manuscript back but let them keep a xerox (which he described as a

294 The Writers’ Union of Canada (L’Union des écrivains canadiens) was founded in 1973 to ‘unite Canadian writers for the advancement of their common interests’ (Who’s Who in the Writers’ Union of Canada: A Directory of Members [Toronto: Writers’ Union of Canada, 1981], ix).

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form of publishing). A cousin of mine,295 who teaches at Queen’s, then got the xerox and sent that to me too. A terrible storm ensued with the Writers’ Union handling matters for me and other union members who publish with Oberon and Mr. Macklem296 writing to the union about me in what I can only call most offensive and even libellous terms. Then about a month ago I learned, through someone I met at a party, that my book has been made a selection of the Readers’ Club (you may have heard of it – a Canadian and of course smaller Book of the month deal).297 They are bringing out an edition of their own with a better cover, error in titles corrected etc etc. In fact, all these arrangements were being made while Macklem was writing insulting letters about me to the Writers’ Union. To this day he hasn’t told me though I’ve been in touch with Peter Martin298 of the Readers’ Club and learned all the financial terms etc from him. This will keep the book in print longer as I gather that some of the new edition will be available to bookstores. The grey paperback is, I think, just now out of print. Needless to say I’m very happy and it’s a splendid revenge on Macklem who had told various people (though not me) that he did not intend to reprint. I think Alan Brown will be an excellent translator for you. He is most skilful and, of course, very sympathetic to your work.299 [...] No, dear Gabrielle, do not decide finally to go and live on some rock. I don’t think such a dwelling-place would suit any of us; we are committed to our own kind, for good or ill. I hope the warmer weather (if we dare hope it will last) makes you feel better and that you are over the trauma of the interview, which I can well understand. I think the result is very good; there may be small places where you yourself will feel he

295 The poet and novelist Tom Marshall (1938–93) was a professor in the Department of English. 296 Michael Macklem, who co-founded the Ottawa-based publishing house in 1966 with Anne Hardy. 297 The Readers’ Club of Canada was founded in 1962 in Toronto. At the time, it was the only club in Canada selling books by mail order. 298 Peter Martin was also the co-founder, with Carol Martin, of the publishing house Peter Martin Associates which operated from 1965 to 1982. 299 Alan Brown became interested in GR’s works at an early date; see his article ‘Gabrielle Roy and the Temporary Provincial,’ Tamarack Review 1 (Autumn 1956): 61–70. When he started working with GR, he had already translated works by French writers Blaise Cendrars and André Gide, and by Quebec writers Hubert Aquin, Anne Hébert, and André Langevin, among others.

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could have done better by your words. But I have read it carefully and feel that it presents you very well. Of course he hasn’t got to the heart of you – or of your work. But how could he, after all? I was a little nervous because there have been some very destructive and mean articles about writers in the weekend papers lately and, though David Cobb sounded very sympathetic over the phone and genuinely fond of your work, I couldn’t help wondering. Anyway, you’ve now done your duty by the ‘general reader’ and can say No a few times – if you wish to. Do write when you can. affectionately, Joyce I’m sending a magazine that has a new little story of mine300 – another attempt to trap a bit of the past in words.



Quebec, May 6, 1976

Dear Joyce, I’m overjoyed to hear that A Private Place has been chosen for the Reader’s Club. The news eases the pain I felt ever since I knew you would have to cease translating my work. Now I am almost glad that you took that decision, in fact I was glad in a sense from the beginning, feeling in my heart that you were absolutely right, that you had important writing to do and, for this, needed all your time and undivided energy. Now, more than ever, I am pleased, happy on your account and on mine. I am absolutely sure that you will soon give us another work of great quality, as great as The Private Place, if not even greater, although it seems hard to me to top this book. I suppose you saw Margaret Laurence’s review of Private Place in The Gazette some time ago.301

300 ‘The Accident,’ Fiddlehead 108 (Winter 1976): 62–9. 301 Margaret Laurence, ‘Stories with Wisdom: Marshall Book a Cause to Rejoice,’ Montreal Gazette, 27 March 1976, 51. ‘The sheer technical skill of these stories is impressive,’ says Laurence. ‘They contain a beautiful economy of style, the ability to convey a great deal in a few pages. There is as well something which I can only call wisdom, the somewhat distanced viewpoint which is nonetheless always vitally involved, and which can look upon the dilemmas of these individual characters – sometimes with the sharp commentary of wit, and always with a compassion which never deteriorates into condescending pity.’

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I liked it, but somehow felt that your stories go much further than even she perceived. It is true that you are terse, economical in words, but there is a strange resonnance just the same which gives music to your prose however sober it may seem – a quality M.L. may not see for, gifted as she is in another way, I don’t think she possesses the gift of transposition that you have. Well, all I can say is I am pleased, pleased, pleased. Your story in The Fiddlehead I have not read yet but will do so very soon. Ever since the article came out in The Canadian I have received phone calls from all over the country, several from Toronto. Who would have guessed that a photo and article in a week-end magazine could create such a stir! Yes, I agree, that on the whole, for a medium of this sort and with the exception of the unfortunate mistake about my parents’ age, the story is good. I think David Cobb had to cut in his material in the end and can guess that he must have done so with some pain for I remember developments that led me to statements of greater impact and pertinence. But never mind, for those who don’t know, it reads quite well, I suppose, as it is. Thanks for your work with Lily Miller and thanks for the fight to save senseless cutting. I agree with the last minute corrections she told me about, following my own small list. Thanks for the trouble. ‘Crucial,’ speaking about the first sleep of M. Toung302 is the only one, although absolutely correct in sense, that did not please me too much, the word itself sounds a little out of place somehow, but I could not find better, so left it. May I rely on you for the reading and correction of proofs. I’m really not much good at that, specially in English. [...] I have two Diviners indeed, which is to the best. I hope Margaret will not be offended by my talk on her in the course of the article. I’m pretty sure I said, talking about her, ‘a great writer’ and not just a ‘good writer[.]’ Also I did not dismiss her so quickly as just western. All these statements in black and white lacking the nuances one introduced in the conversation with facial expressions, gestures, smiles, etc, may lead to false conclusions and look peremptory when they were not at all intended that way. But I suppose she is far too intelligent a woman not 302 A reference to the first text in GR’s Cet été qui chantait, entitled ‘Monsieur Toung’ (‘Monsieur Toong’ in the English version), the name that the narrator and her friend, Berthe, have given to a bullfrog living in a pool at the edge of their village. M. is the abbreviation for monsieur. See appendix E for the passage in question and its translation.

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to303 realize this. In any case if you have a chance to see her or talk with her, please let her know how I feel. I’ll write again when I have a little more time. My tests and examinations at the hospital last week were extremely tiring. The verdict is that my respiratory tracts are not too badly impaired so far, but there is need, says my doctor, for a complete rest of quite some time. Thanks for your lovely letter, Joyce, and for sharing with me the news of the good fortune coming your way at last. I am relieved that the drab colour and photograph of the cover will disappear, leaving place entirely for the beauty and power of the book’s contents.



With affectionate wishes Gabrielle

Québec, le 13 mai 1976 Dear Joyce, I picked up several bad errors, that you would see, I’m sure, but I thought as well note them as I go on. (1) In ‘Dance, Mouffette,’ page 61, according to their present numbering of pages, there is catalogue instead of catalogne, which is a canadianism or, should we say, a Québecism.304 I have replaced catalogne305 and indicated, it could be in italics if the editor preferred. You decide. (2) In ‘A Mobile,’ p. 35. There is this sentence: ‘What gave them their beauty was the graceful way they were scattered through still attached to the same source.’ It probably is correct, even beautiful, but I had a doubt as to ‘through.’ Shouldn’t [it] be ‘though’ or ‘although.’ The flowers are scattered yet attached to the same source, that is the sense. Is it clear? (3) In ‘The Islands’ p. 100.306

303 304 305 306

GR: too GR: Québecisim That is, ‘replaced catalogue with catalogne.’ The three errors mentioned in this letter do not appear in the published version of Enchanted Summer. As none of the existing typescripts of the translation contains the first two errors mentioned, it can be supposed that they occurred during the typesetting process. The typescripts indicate that JM originally translated ‘Dans la maison’ as ‘In their houses.’

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We have: ‘In their houses, animals and people drew ... near the fire.’ Does ‘their’ not apply here to houses of people and houses of animals. I felt it strange as I read it this time. In the French, I had: ‘Dans la maison, bêtes et gens se rapprochent du feu.’ There is no ambiguity there. It is clear that it is the house of people including their domestic animals. If you wish to clarify this point, I suppose we could have: Indoors, people and domestic animals (or their friendly animals) or I don’t know what else, drew near the fire. Very likely you will find something better. The difficulty about such a last minute correction is that one might easily repeat a word just previously used in the same paragraph. That is all I have detected of importance, except of course, as I said over the phone, that the accent aigu and the accent grave are missing all along. I think I tracked most of them and pointed out in a letter to the Senior Editor that you would give her the corrected proofs, that I had phoned, that from now on you were to take charge of everything, that she should send you a final set of proofs so that you could assure yourself that all corrections had been taken care of. I’m sending back the proofs to-day. No use working each in our separate way when we cannot consult. It is better now for you to navigate alone. Still I’m glad I picked up the catalogue, although you would surely have caught it too. Again, I must say how I was impressed by your story ‘The Accident.’ It is so vivid, I think it is printed on my mind forever, not only the final scene which is so strong and real but the whole succession of etched images it leaves in the memory, for ever it seems. Your writing becomes more and more visual, I would say. This story is particularly both strong and tender, a combination I so admire, as you know. Good luck in this rich vein! Most likely I will be at Petite next week. If the weather clears, I’ll probably leave this Saturday. With affectionate regards Gabrielle 305 R.R. Petite-Rivière-St-François (Charlevoix) Québec



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[Toronto,] July 4, 1976 Dear Gabrielle, I can’t imagine why I’ve been so long in writing to you. As a matter of fact, I can imagine why. I have suddenly become involved in a great deal of writing and have 4 stories underway though none quite finished. 3 are linked and will, I hope, eventually form part of a book. The fourth is yet another of those childhood stories, which I like to do but always find particularly difficult. In fact, my mind was inventing so freely I began to feel that it was a bit too free. So I decided to let my mind cool off for a few days and I am trying to do that. Meanwhile the pages for Été have arrived and I have 10 days for those. In one way, it will be nice to have the whole thing settled and, in another, what a terrible moment! The last chance. After that the poor little thing is on its own. But I do feel that it reads quite well. I hear, by the way, that there will not be ‘art’ in the book. Lily Miller was supposed to send copies to me but did not. However, since you did not like them, I’m sure I should not have either.307 But what a mad performance – not asking the girl to provide samples! I personally did not see why the book needed ‘art’. Its absence will subtract about a dollar from the price of the book, I understand, and that is a good thing nowadays when books, like everything else, have become so expensive. Thank you for your kind words about ‘The Accident.’ I found it very hard to write and always felt nervous about it, wondering whether it would have any meaning for other people. Also the sort of note I was trying to strike at the end does not come readily. I’m not sure how much of the story is true, by the way. There are true things in it, mixed up together, and certain essences are true, I hope. But as for the accident itself, I’m not sure whether I really saw what I describe or whether my imagination just invented it from something I heard about. All very strange. Re Margaret Laurence’s review of my book. I was grateful to her for doing it – entirely of her own volition – and it will carry some weight. But I thought her resumes of the stories rather bald and am glad you agree. I saw her about a month ago. She was on her way out west and said to tell you she’d be writing to you on her return. I did not quiz her

307 GR had rejected the set of illustrations commissioned by McClelland and Stewart.

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about the article (about you) but got the impression that she might not have seen it. She would understand how differently things sound when quoted, I feel sure. I hope you are having a good summer and that it doesn’t rain rain rain as it does here, All the best, affectionately, Joyce

 [Toronto], August 8, 1976 Dear Gabrielle, I’m sure many people will send you the enclosed but, even so, I can’t resist putting it into the mail. So such articles do have their results (see letter 3).308 Incidentally I’ve clipped another sheet so you can read the nice article by Robert Thomas Allen if you like.309 I finished the page proofs shortly after I last wrote to you. Also, Lily Miller sent me the proofs of the biography of you and the jacket copy. I did not check publication dates etc; they sounded right and I gather that you have already seen them. However, I did suggest that they put French Academy and French-Canadian Academy back into French. I think having these in English looks ridiculous and most insular as I’m sure you will agree. So they have done this. I’m a bit worried about not hearing from you. I’m always afraid you may be sick again as you sometimes are in summer. I hope your weather is more like summer than ours is. I found myself wishing the

308 The enclosure is a clipping from the letters page of the Canadian (7 August 1976, 20) in which three people express delight in David Cobb’s article on GR and admire the photograph of her (by John Reeves) on the magazine’s cover. The writer of the third letter says: ‘I had never heard of Gabrielle Roy, but after reading your article, I am going to buy her books.’ 309 The same issue of the Canadian contained an article by Robert Thomas Allen on the gradual erosion of the value of pride in good workmanship (‘Whatever Happened to Quality? There Used to Be a Time When a Job Was Worth Doing Well,’ Canadian, 7 August 1976, 18–19).

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other day that this pseudo summer would be over and real honest fall set in. Today looks, and feels, like November. All the best, affectionately, Joyce I’m eager to see ‘our’ book as I’m sure you are too.



Petite-Rivière-St-François August 15, 1976 Dear Joyce, I’m confused,310 I’ve owed you a letter – if not several letters – for a long time. Sorry. Yours are as always so lovely and uplifting. I was made particularly happy early in the summer when you wrote that your work was progressing rather quickly. I have a feeling that you are engaged in a wonderful run. For me, the beginning of the summer was a little tough.311 However, since about the end of July, in spite of the poor weather, or perhaps because of a slight improvement for a while, I began to pick up marvelously. I have even found myself, in the morning, itching to pick up my pen and start, haphazardly on some story. I may give in one of these days. I’m afraid, of course, to start again, after such a long break, but, at the same time, enticed to go on a bit further on that strange road you and I have followed. Yes I am anxious to see ‘our’ book come out after so much preparation. I’m glad that I refused the illustrations. I think the book will create a far better impression all by itself, at least that’s what I feel now. An excerpt from ‘Jeannot-the-Crow’ appears in this month’s issue of Reader’s Digest, condensed quite a bit but rather charming still, I think, in your lovely translation. Try and get one to see how you feel about it. They have a rather sweet illustration for the story. Had we had this kind of illustrations, it would have been quite right for the book.

310 That is, ‘embarrassed’ or ‘ashamed.’ The French equivalent is confus(e). 311 GR: though

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Very likely I will stay here, even if the weather is not good, for a month or so yet, for I believe that it is the pure air that helps me the most. Thanks for sending the pages from The Canadian. I was rather surprised – and pleased no use denying it – to see that the article about me had had some echoes. No one had thought of sending the clippings to me. Only you, my dear, so thanks once more. With affectionate regards Gabrielle ‘Jeannot’ also appears in the French version of Reader’s Digest, called Sélection. How right you were to change to the French l’Académie française, etc. Hope they did not manage to make a mistake though. One of my books, perhaps Windflower, carried on its jacket l’Académie Canoviennefrançaise. Some sight! Bye-bye!



G.

[Toronto,] August 20, 1976 Dear Gabrielle, I was so glad to hear from you. Perhaps you could arrange to send messages by passenger pigeon (or crow?) when you don’t feel up to writing, because I do worry. (Though I realize, of course, that I’m not always such a perfect correspondent myself.) I went out and bought Reader’s Digest and think Jeannot looks very nice (with a charming illustration) though it gave me odd jumps to read something I still know by heart and find little changes here and there. I can understand that they would feel obliged to cut the somewhat longish passage about the music, finding it a digression (which would be too much for the speedy reader). But I particularly love this passage. First because it is beautiful and one of the most unusual descriptions of the wind I’ve ever read. And second, to use an expression I once read somewhere and have never forgotten, because it is

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‘bound to me with a little web of care.’312 That is, because I found it difficult and had to work very hard on it and so feel that it is more truly mine than something on which I didn’t have to expend so much. I’m glad you agreed about the French Academy etc. You will not have to worry (I sincerely trust) that any queer words will turn up. Lily is meticulous about such things. She sent me the corrected proofs and, when I called to tell her that as usual accents had been left off, she sent me another set with her pencilled additions. Of course very very queer things happen in the printing world as we all know to our sorrow. But I think we can be as certain in this case as it is possible to be. (Sorry about this typing. My big machine is sick and I’ve had to take out my old portable, which spaces erratically. Also its letters are dirty and I can’t find an old toothbrush. The two I have must be used in my mouth!) I hope you will very soon be back at writing. If you’re anything like me you’ll first have to paddle around a bit – no diving or even deepwater swimming. I always feel after a break that I’ve lost any small skill I once thought I possessed. But then a new freedom comes if I’m patient and don’t push too hard at the beginning. At any rate, I hope the fresh air will continue to do you good and that you’ll feel more and more like yourself. affectionately, as always, Joyce P.S. The mail that brought your letter also provided a rather sloppylooking package (in the sort of recycled envelope we writers all use to mail books in). It proved to contain a copy of Presently Tomorrow and a note from your friend Al Purdy,313 who thought I might like this extra copy, which he’d found. And ‘if I was in a good mood,’ would I autograph his copy, provided he sent it with return postage? His note was written on paper swiped from some conference centre near Kingston

312 ‘This is a quote from an article by Rebecca West which was published in one of the English weeklies just before or during the war. She was speaking of something in the house or garden which was especially dear to her because it was “bound to etc etc”.’ (JM, letter to Jane Everett, 31 August 2001.) 313 The poet Alfred Wellington ‘Al’ Purdy (1918–2000).

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and the stamped addressed envelope for my answer is from the Hotel Georgia in Vancouver. A really thrifty man! And a dear too. But isn’t it strange how humble human beings are? He seemed to think I might have forgotten our meeting some years ago.



Joyce

Petite Rivière St-François September 7, 1976 Dear Joyce, Your friendly little bits of letters accompanied by cuts from papers are most welcome. They cheer me up a great deal. My work, so far, has only been paddling indeed ... if it is as much as that. I have a feeling that it’s quite useless so far, but sometimes one perceives a tiny light, at last, after a long wandering through the dark. Have you received an advanced copy of Enchanted Summer? I think I prefer its sober look to that of the French. My portrait is rather grim, though, but what does it matter! I will be interested to hear your commentaries. I’m so happy to see that you seem in high spirits. Do send me a little of the magic overflow.



Affectionately Gabrielle

Apt. 304, 105 Isabella. [Toronto,] Sept. 19, 1976 Dear Gabrielle, It was nice to have your note. I’m glad you’ve been writing again even if you don’t find the results worthwhile. I think that country always resists letting us back in. But you will get some germs eventually even though or if some has to be torn up. I also rather like the sober cover though I myself (if I could draw) would have produced something more suggestive of wind, space and greenness. But it is very pleasing to the eye and that is what counts. The photograph I feel is less successful in black and white. I cannot

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understand why Jack didn’t like the ones you sent via me, which are so human and lively – and so like you. Ah well. Take the back of your book and the front of mine and we make a bad pair, women to be avoided if one expects to hear anything cheerful or consoling or, especially, humourous. Incidentally I saw a copy of the book bought the other day in Longhouse, a shop near here that deals only in Canadian books. I didn’t see the actual purchaser, just the young lady who got up from the phone, walked briskly over to the pile of your books and removed the topmost. So we have at least one reader. More important there was an excellent review in yesterday’s Globe and Mail by Shirley Gibson,314 an excellent poet whom I don’t know personally though I know her work. I don’t think you could have hoped for better and the G and M is important. She perfectly got the meaning of the book. I hope you agree. I’ve feared that the book would fall into the hands of people who demand great excitement, have no delicacy in their own minds and cannot recognize it when they encounter it. Of course there will undoubtedly be some reviewers of this sort but the review in the G and M is undoubtedly the one that is read most. I tried to get you a copy but by the time I started looking the neighbourhood boxes were empty. I’m sure M and S will send you one soon. If not, I’ll find you one somehow. So we can safely feel that the book is off to a good start!



affectionately, Joyce

314 Shirley Gibson (1927–97) begins her review by stating that ‘Enchanted Summer is a book for people who like to sit and look and think, in the hope that someday – perhaps after a lifetime – some conclusions will be granted them.’ She also has high praise for the quality of JM’s translation: ‘In a publishing season well stocked with Quebec books, we can be grateful that once again it is Joyce Marshall who has translated Gabrielle Roy to us. Marshall is a writer herself and it’s obvious that she “hears” language. Thanks to her well tuned ear we’re left with the feeling that, aside from a few rough spots at the beginning, Enchanted Summer has come to us with the author’s intention intact. Marshall appears to be completely at ease in both languages and she has the good sense to leave words in French – gatte, chaloupe, carillonneur – when she thinks English can’t do the job as well. The result is a translation which immerses us in Roy’s world, complete with its tenderness, humor and understanding’ (‘She ranges from the infinite to a commentary on cows,’ Globe and Mail, 18 September 1976, 39).

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Quebec, September 20, 1976 Dear Joyce, Well, I am back to Quebec and find life in the city almost unbearable after four long months in the country. The lack of air seems to be the worst enemy. How is it that we can get used to live trapped in such a prison. I too, after a while, I suppose, will be resigned. Little by little, we are relinquishing what makes life worth living. I’m sending you the reprint copy315 of Enchanted Summer which McClelland & Stewart sent to my city address when I was still in Petite. That’s a good invention on their part. I had gone (hurriedly) over the advanced copy of the book, received a week or so before and noticed very little. Hardly anything that matters. As you say it reads well, very well in fact. What I noticed is on page 31, 4th paragraph, the sentence starting by ‘Then through ...’ I am just wondering if the sense is correct. It probably is, but I want you to assure me that it is so. Of course, what I mean is that the wind imitates at times a vocal ensemble, and not the other way round. Does your sentence convey that? Excuse me, I may be obtuse but at first I read it the other way and now wonder.316 Also in the last paragraph on the same page, there are three almost. I suppose you could, without too much juggling, eliminate one at least. Otherwise I think there is very little to change. If you have the heart to go through the book, though, with pencil in hand, you would do me a great service. Then, do you think, after you have inscribed whatever you find in the book, that you would address it, on my part, to this Ms. Marta Howard, whose letter I am including in the package. If some difficulty should arise you could phone. Am anxious to hear from you.



With affection Gabrielle

315 ‘I imagine that G was referring to one of the uncorrected proof copies that are given to reviewers before the book itself is ready.’ (JM, letter to Jane Everett, 31 August 2001.) 316 See appendix E for the passage in question and its translation.

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[Toronto,] Sept. 21, 1976 Dear Gabrielle, Herewith a copy of my letter to the Reprint Co-ordinator.317 Really, I find these mad bursts of efficiency from M and S quite extraordinary when they are otherwise, so much of the time, so sloppy. I couldn’t help telling her what I thought of the whole thing. How can anyone possibly do such work at the exact nerve-wracking moment when a book has just gone into the world? I’ll explain my ‘commitments’ to you as I didn’t feel I needed to do to her. [...] my sister318 is arriving Friday from Edmonton with her husband to spend a week with me [...]. Then on or about Oct. 4 I go for two weeks reading in schools, community colleges etc. Partly holiday too. I hope to spend Thanksgiving ALONE319 in some nice place in northern Ontario. Anyway, the longer the work is delayed the better I’ll be able to do it. And they can wait. We are not school children and they don’t own us. I hope you are getting used to being mired in concrete. I sent you a letter to Petite, on Sunday, I believe. I hope you have it or will very soon. I’ll write more next time. I’m extremely tired, having just written about a dozen business letters. affectionately, Joyce I haven’t the sharpness of mind needed to consider the points you raised but will do so in due course.



Quebec, September 28, 1976 Dear Joyce, I agree with you: There is no rush in preparing the corrected copy. Surely they won’t need it for a few months yet. Do it in your own good

317 Marta Howard. 318 Vivian Henwood. 319 Underlined four times in the original.

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time. I’m sorry to hear that you are tired. Small wonder, though, you have been going full speed for too long. Do try to rest for a while. I found another possible little slip in Enchanted Summer, page 59, 3rd paragraph; should it be ‘the spirit rejoices as if it imagined or (imagines) ...’ There was an excellent review in The Montreal Star, september 18th, in which the reviewer, John Richmond, says that the book has been exquisitely translated.320 I agree, the more I look at it, the more I am convinced that you have accomplished a feat. All the simplicity, the transparency, the liquid flow I longed for is there. Thank you, dear Joyce. If you wish for a copy of The Star, I’ll send it along. Some friend put it in the mail for me. But surely I will receive copies from McClelland & Stewart. I hope the visit of your folks did not overtire you. I know how these visits – which we welcome – can also exert us unbelievably because we pour ourselves out too much, I suppose, in such cases. Learning to live, as Elsa discovered,321 is so very difficult and strenuous. I’m already pining for my quiet country life, although I hardly go out here in the city. It is the outside tempo, the noise, the lack of air I suppose which tire me, or perhaps the stress so visible in everybody’s face. Do try to recuperate. Yours affectionately Gabrielle Good luck in the reading of your work to students. This may help to refresh your mind.



Apt. 304, 105 Isabella [Toronto,] Dec. 9, 1976 Dear Gabrielle, It is so scandalously long since I’ve written to you. This has the bad result that I haven’t heard from you and wonder how you are, even though it’s all my fault.

320 John Richmond, ‘Tapestry of Serenity,’ Montreal Star, 18 September 1976, E3. 321 The main character of GR’s novel La rivière sans repos (Windflower).

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I’ve been meaning to send you the enclosed list of corrections.322 As you’ll see, I’ve adopted two of your suggestions. The other one – ‘as if it imagined’ – well, that is one of the strange things that happen to the English verb after ‘as if’ and quite correct. As for the so-called ‘dirty letters’ I spoke of these to Lily, who didn’t know whether they appeared on all copies though they certainly did on hers and mine so I marked them for the production department. I sent the list and corrected copy to Lily, by the way, as the ‘reprint co-ordinator’ has left the firm. Lily will see that they go to the right quarter. I asked to see copies of the reviews and they are mixed, to say the least – some excellent, some ridiculous. This doesn’t surprise me due to my knowledge of reviewers and how they operate. But there have been good reviews and lots of space in the important papers and that is an excellent thing for the book. It’s been a tiring autumn for me but I’ve had a bit more rest lately and have done a fair amount of work. I enjoyed my discussions with students; I’m always amazed at the questions people ask about particular stories and find it most challenging. I wouldn’t want to spend my life at this but it is valuable, from time to time, to see (and hear) one’s work reacting upon other people. Speaking of reactions, mine to the P.Q. victory was violent.323 I had to turn off Lévesque’s triumphant appearance among his supporters election night – all those people screaming, laughing, jumping up and down in their joy at the thought of getting away from me... I am an emotional Canadian; the thought of Quebec, the river, the Eastern Townships etc as things that belong to me goes very deep and involves the bone-marrow more than the intellect. And I still haven’t given up hope. Most English-speaking Canadians say they ‘trust Lévesque.’ I, alas, do not. To me he is a media person, very clever, deliberate, somewhat fabricated. And of course, to me he is an enemy... Anyway, I hope you are well and not finding the winter (which is already brutal here) too trying. Do write when you can and give me your news. affectionately, Joyce



322 To Enchanted Summer. See appendix E. 323 The Parti Québécois swept to power on 15 November 1976, winning seventy-one seats (against thirty-five won by the other parties combined).

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[Québec, Christmas 1976]324

[note]

My warmest wishes to you, dear Joyce. Since november 15, my heart has been heavy and I have been pondering constantly on how to help my country best. Hope everything is fine with you. Merry Christmas and may God bless you



Gabrielle

[Toronto,] March 17, 1977 Dear Gabrielle, I haven’t heard from you for so long and have been wondering how you are. Though perhaps it is I who owe a letter. I hope you have been well throughout this hard winter. And did you get away? I very much enjoyed your amusing little piece about your schooldays in The Globe and Mail and so did many others who spoke to me about it.325 And did you happen to see a letter in Maclean’s from someone (in Saskatoon, I think) disagreeing with their most disagreeable review of Enchanted Summer?326 I would have clipped it for you but read it at my dentist’s and did not like to mutilate someone else’s

324 Undated, but presumably in answer either to JM–GR, 9 December 1976 (given the reference to November 15th), or to a later Christmas card (which has not been traced). 325 Gabrielle Roy, ‘The Disparate Treasures of a Young Girl Who Came from Deschambault Street,’ Globe and Mail, 18 December 1976, 6. Originally written in French (‘Mes études à Saint-Boniface’), the text had been translated by Alan Brown. 326 The letter in question (Maclean’s, 13 December 1976, 16e) was written in response to Adele Freedman’s article on Enchanted Summer (‘Summer Doldrums,’ Maclean’s, 20 September 1976, 66), which was almost uniformly negative. ‘The book,’ Freedman remarks, ‘is all sounds and no plot. Basically it is a bestiary, a roll call of animals found in rural Quebec – all of them benign, intelligent and toothless. All of them, in short, like the most boring kind of people, and blessed with the power of speech in a fabular way ... Unfortunately, their message to readers brutalized and alienated by technology – as Roy would have it – sounds cloying and thin ... Roy’s writing almost dissolves in saccharin sentiment and schmaltz. The elegiac side of Enchanted Summer is more successful ... Her previous novels are memorable for their sensitive social

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magazine in sight of other people. The magazine was old by the time I saw it so I could not buy a copy. I had a call the other day from a young lady from CBC (tv) about a program they want to do about you. Did you get a copy of a letter about this forwarded by M and S? I told the girl I certainly wasn’t going to urge you to do something if you didn’t want to do it but, after talking to the girl for some time, I decided I would at least mention it. The producer in question (Katherine Myers)327 is excellent and has done some very sensitive shows. The girl to whom I spoke (Carol Myers, by name)328 who will be doing what they call research, knows and loves your books and, as a matter of fact, you were the subject of her M.A. thesis. They want to do the program on you and M-C Blais and will, I gather, dramatize parts of your books so it won’t be all interview.329 I told her I thought you might welcome a chance to speak out for Canada and she thought that reasonable. She asked whether I’d ‘like to be kept au courant with things as they go on.’ I replied that I’d be glad to help if they’d give me credit and pay me. This, of course, needn’t concern you but if they’d take me on to help with what’s called ‘program development’, I could stop anything from happening that you didn’t like. She assured me there’d be no ‘hairy barbarians’ rushing into your place and shoving the furniture around.330 Well, I’ve done what I agreed to do – mentioned the subject. Perhaps you’d be willing at least to discuss it with them – or have me discuss it

327 328 329

330

sense. Their irony invariably suggested that the country – no matter how pristine and beautiful – is no refuge for those blemished by urban blight. But in Enchanted Summer nature clasps Roy in a totally comforting embrace.’ To these criticisms, the letter-writer (from Fernwood, Prince Edward Island, not Saskatoon) responds that ‘the more technological and hard our society becomes, the more we need writers like Gabrielle Roy to remind us of our humanity and of the harmony that could exist between man and nature ... She is of that great company of writers – Rachel Carson, Albert Schweitzer, Jimenez, de Saint-Exupéry and many others who show the power of the heart and imagination and love for this earth.’ Probably Katherine Orr. See JM–GR, 25 April 1977. Carol Moore-Ede Myers. See JM–GR, 26 March 1979 and 25 June 1979. Writer Marie-Claire Blais (b. 1939), author of Une saison dans la vie d’Emmanuel (A Season in the Life of Emmanuel), among others. CBC Television broadcast the program, The Garden and the Cage, directed by Carol Moore-Ede Myers, on 15 February 1979. The program presented GR and M.-C. Blais through the characters they had created. Author Timothy Findley (1930–2002) and writer and radio and television producer William Whitehead (b. 1931) were the writers for the program. See GR-JM, 26 March 1976.

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with them. It won’t be done for a while, of course. In the summer, I gather, so that would mean photographing being done at Petite, which would be nice and, I would imagine, less trying than in your Quebec apartment. Think it over and, if you just don’t feel up to it, don’t let them push you. We are having spring now. It won’t last but I am accepting it with both hands while it’s here. I do hope you are well and cheerful.



affectionately as always, Joyce

Quebec, March 24, 1977 Dear Joyce, It’s true that we have been a long time without news from each other. Probably through my fault, this time. I had to wait till almost the end of December to work on Un jardin au bout du monde with Alan Brown – who did a very fine translation by the way – and by then I was almost too tired to leave. Result, I spent the winter in Quebec, hardly going out at all, except on mild sunny days – which were mighty few, and although my bronchial asthma seems to be mending, I emerge from this claustration dreadfully tired. I have only one thought in mind: reach Petite Rivière, fresh pure air, and, if God will, sunshine at last. I should leave for the south early every winter, but alas, I am bored in Florida. Which is the worse, Joyce: spend the winter shut-up, in-a-hole as it were; or be lonely in a beautiful surrounding? We, humans, are a very strange lot. Like my poor Deborah, it seems that, in the end, we grow attached to our very ills. I was most pleased to get your good letter, which in a sense, I did not deserve. By the way, I had heard before your letter came, from Carol Myers, who sounds very sympathetic through her letter, but I had to refuse her very warm invitation to an interview,331 being really much too tired for anything like that. Perhaps, after a few months in the open air and away from the apartment which I have begun to loathe, I shall be new again. It has happened before, this dreadful fatigue and I have come out from it, crawled out, I should say. 331 For the CBC Television special program, The Garden and the Cage (see note 329).

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About Quebec versus Canada! What to think! It is almost impossible to conjecture, the situation being capricious, changing, charged with all sorts of possibilities. In the end, it might work out fairly well, you know. This is my feeling on certain days. On others, it is much darker. I sway from one extreme to the other. Still, I am far less anxious than I was three months ago. There are far more mature people here than one would think at first, so, when the time comes for a decision, it may be rather wise. Language will be, of course, the most dramatic issue. Lévesque himself seeks to be far more careful, balanced and even wary than a few months ago. Is it just strategy? Or does he learn from power the good and bad side of power? Sometimes I have a feeling that he is learning. Anyhow it is too early to figure out how things will turn, but I cannot, just cannot believe in the collapse of Canada. Perhaps a new country will grow out of all that, but certainly the country will not die, only perhaps something of the old set ways. I hope that your health is good. And how is your writing progressing? Well, I hope, at least as well as you should expect, for I suppose that, like myself, you are seldom content and not for a long time with your own work. I have learned that this is usually a good sign and that one should beware of that surge of great excitement we sometimes experience and which is very often deluding. Not always though. In any case, I’m sure your writing is as beautiful as ever in its strange crisp and mysteriously forlorn way. The best my dear



Gabrielle

[Toronto,] April 25, 1977 Dear Gabrielle, I was about to write you a letter when the phone rang and I received some wonderful news which gives me even more reason to write to you. A nice man from the Canada Council informed me that our translation of Cet été has won this year’s translation award. He says that he attended the conclusion of the meeting, which was held at the end of last week, and that it was ‘both very serious and very jolly’ and that very nice things were said about you and about me and about the book and about the translation. The award will be made in Montreal on May 18 and, as I am allowed to invite guests, I will have an invitation sent to

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you though I do not imagine you would want to go such a distance for such an event. Otherwise, I was glad to have your letter even though your own personal news was not very good. I do hope you will be able to get to Petite quite soon and that good fresh air and (we humbly hope) sun will make you forget the winter. I can understand what you feel about going to Florida, which is not stimulating – or so it seemed to me the one time I got there. But why don’t you go in any event and I will do my human best – I don’t dare promise as life contains too many imponderables – to join you there for 2 or 3 weeks. I think I ought to be able to manage it and perhaps you would not find it all so cheerless if someone were coming to join you at a certain time. Let us think of this seriously because it worries me to think of you spending another of those terrible house-bound winters in Quebec. It’s too bad you didn’t feel up to being interviewed.332 (I spared you another offer. Someone wanted to get you for Peter Gzowski’s Ninety Minutes Live – a terrible show in the late evening, filmed in a studio with an audience and often terrible questions.333 I took the liberty of saying categorically that ‘Madame Roy is not well and there is no use approaching her.’ I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen the show, which is a Canadian imitation of a U.S. ‘talk show’ and frankly I cannot imagine you as a participant.) The other show is, of course, very very different and I heard last week that they plan to go ahead with it even without you. Have you heard this? I’ve been hired as what they call ‘consultant’ and this morning I heard from a nice young [man] who’s been hired as ‘researcher’ – he sounds most intelligent, knows most of your books (and will read the others). I think they will make a very nice show and do full justice to your books and thoughts. Anyway, as ‘con-

332 For the CBC Television special program, The Garden and the Cage (see note 329 and GR–JM, 24 March 1977). 333 Peter Gzowski (1934–2002), broadcaster and journalist, best known for his work with CBC Radio. 90 Minutes Live was a CBC Television production. ‘The show ran for two seasons and was cancelled in 1976. It was a “talk show” modelled, whether the creators admitted it or not, on similar programs such as The Tonight Show ... The show featured poets, politicians, comedians, and musicians. But it didn’t have the excitement of its competitors. Perhaps the producers were too wary of controversy ... Officially, the reason the show was cancelled was that the number of viewers, as determined by survey, was too small’ (Marco Adria, Peter Gzowski: An Electric Life [Toronto: ECW Press, 1994], 85).

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sultant’ I’ll know what goes on. Just put the whole idea of an interview out of your mind. And if you feel really well – by August, say ... Anyway, Katherine Orr, the producer, said there was no other writer she would want to do in your place so she was prepared to go ahead even without your living face and voice. My work goes reasonably well. I’ve done some pieces which will eventually come together into a novel. Last week I went to Fort Frances for two days.334 Terrible smells (pulp and paper) but wonderful warm people. I spoke to 6 Grade 9 classes. Luckily they had all read ‘The Old Woman’, the story about the powerhouse, so we talked about that. But it is weird to hash over such an old old story. One of the teachers told me that Dédette taught at Kenora,335 which is not far from there. I had forgotten that. It was an interesting trip, especially as much of the journey was by very small plane. And the people do seem different – more themselves in some way. And the countless small lakes of various odd shapes that one sees from the air reminded me of your description of flying into the Arctic. What an odd and lovely country we have. And I so much want to keep it all. The white paper on language came down since your letter.336 I fully understand the desire of people in Quebec to be and speak French. I sympathize completely. But language cannot be legislated. It never has been. It never will be. So I don’t think it matters what kind of laws and white papers they have. What frightens me is to see the real hatred that comes out, the references to ‘the conquest’ etc. What on earth has that to do with anything now? With me, for instance? When I studied history as a child, I wanted Montcalm to win because (regardless of where my ancestors were living) I thought of the people in those little colonies as my people. Would Lévesque, Laurin, Parizeau et al understand that?337 No matter. There is much goodwill on this side. I believe there

334 In northern Ontario, close to the Manitoba border. 335 GR’s sister Bernadette (‘Dédette’) taught for over twenty years in Northern Ontario, first in Kenora (1927–35), then in Keewatin (1935–49). 336 The white paper on language, Québec’s Policy on the French Language, was published in March 1977. Prepared by Camille Laurin (1922–99), the Minister of State for Cultural Development, it discussed the framework of Quebec’s language charter (known as Bill 101 in English), which was passed into law later that same year. 337 At the time, René Lévesque was premier of Quebec and head of the Parti Québécois government; Jacques Parizeau (b. 1930) was Minister of Revenue.

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is much goodwill on both sides. And, like you, I can’t believe that this country will be broken. Do let me have your news,



affectionately as always, Joyce

[Toronto,] July 31, 1977 Dear Gabrielle, How are you? Better and more cheerful, I hope, than when we last spoke. I’m recently back from two weeks in the Maritimes with my sister,338 my first time down that way. We were in Charlottetown, Halifax and Cape Breton Island and missed the worst of the Toronto heat, I hope, though it was unusually warm there too. Many Québécois are travelling in that area this year, I’m pleased to see, and I twice heard people in Halifax speaking to waitresses in French – and being answered in French. Of course there are all sorts of little pockets of Acadians as you well know. On Prince Edward Island I saw a most touching little museum of Acadian artifacts gathered by nuns of a local convent with labels written in pen and ink in various ladylike hands. Nothing very rare or exciting – just ordinary human objects from the past. I feel that I know a little more about my country now. But we are hard to seize as a whole. Otherwise I have no special news. I chiefly wanted to inquire about you and what sort of summer you’ve had. I do hope some of the enchantment still survives.

 338 Eileen Starkey.

affectionately, Joyce

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Apt. 304, 105 Isabella St. Toronto, August 20, 1977 Dear Gabrielle, It was so nice to talk to you after so long. I called Timothy Findley (one of the writers) and he understood perfectly.339 So don’t think again about that. I bought this little bird-book for you a week ago or more and just get around to sending it now. I thought it contained a few rather interesting anecdotes. I’m delighted to hear about your new book340 and look forward to reading it. I think there’s an explanation for the early appearance of Garden in the Wind. M and S341 probably ship off their parcels all at the same time so that Vancouver and other outlying parts will have stock on time for publication date. So local bookstores put copies out as soon as they get them. I’ve known this to happen before. Reviews will come along quite soon, I imagine. Well, I have no news, having used it all up on the phone. I hope your latest coughing spell is over.



affectionately, Joyce

Petite-Rivière-St-François August 24, 1977

Dear Joyce, Thank you so much for the little bird book. It is indeed pleasant. Also very handy to carry about. I found out with pleasure, leafing through it that I knew quite well nearly all of the birds included in the book. Thanks also for your second letter coming closely after the previous letter.

339 A reference to GR’s refusal to be interviewed for the CBC Television special program The Garden and the Cage (see note 329 and GR–JM, 24 March 1977). 340 GR’s novel Ces enfants de ma vie was about to be published by Les Éditions Stanké of Montreal. 341 McClelland and Stewart had just published Garden in the Wind, Alan Brown’s translation of Un jardin au bout du monde (see note 257).

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I am relieved now that I have definitely put out of my mind my appearance on the T.V. program.342 I agree that it might have succeeded. But the day I very nearly gave in, I felt unwell and miserable, so decided that after all, this is not meant for me. The truth is that the intol343 medication which is harmless and was very efficient last summer doesn’t seem to protect me as much this year. Either I am getting used to it or I am developping more and more allergies. In the summer, as I spend a lot of time outdoor[s], specially in my swing, I make up for the energy lost, but in the winter it’s a different story. However, the good gathered in the summer may last me part of the winter. I enjoyed this good long chat with you over the telephone. Perhaps we should become spendthrifts and indulge more frequently. Letters are all very fine, but the human voice adds a something warm and intimate which brings us much closer to one another. I hope the program without me will be just as good in another sort of way. You must be right about the reason for Garden in the Wind to appear so early in Toronto. And it is not a bad one at that. For my part I find the publication date rather early – it was originally set for late september – but I think they have quite a lot of books coming out this fall. Yes, as you say, the reviews may come in soon. In a way, I think I would prefer not to see them, but they are sent to you, and you are bound to hear from them. It’s a bad moment as a rule for me to go through and after a while I don’t mind any more. The weather is not very good these days. Quite cold for the season. I’m debating whether to go back to Quebec soon or stay here for september. We are promised a lovely september. But who is to guarantee that! The evenings are getting long, for one thing, at this time of the year, which I find a little sad. When I come early in the summer, one of my great joys is to sit quietly at my big window watching the slow departure of day, an endless sort of leave-taking, which somehow or other always brings me a feeling of peace. Why and how, I would be at pain to say! I find myself, at those times, very close to my little Elsa of Windflower who hardly missed a sunset through her life.

342 A reference to the CBC Television special program The Garden and the Cage (see note 329 and GR–JM, 24 March 1977). 343 A medication used to treat asthma and respiratory problems.

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Well, let’s hope that life will be good for you, for us both, for a while at least.



Yours affectionately Gabrielle

[Toronto,] September 4, 1977 Dear Gabrielle, We must indeed plan to be more spendthrift and talk to one another on the phone from time to time. Sometimes I ask myself why I save money on things that are or would be pleasant when so much goes anyway for taxes, dentists etc. In fact, why not expend a little on friendship? I feel for you with another session of reviews coming up – two actually, of course, both English and French at once. I always hope I’ll reach a point when I’ll simply refuse to read reviews. But, as you say, they come and one reads them. I don’t know a single writer who is strong-minded enough to simply set the things aside unread. However, I think Garden in the Wind will have excellent reviews. It is a strong book and I believe that reviewers will have less trouble grasping its effect. Summer, of course, is simply too subtle and delicate for certain ‘clever’ readers. And of course the average reviewer reads very very quickly. I don’t mean, of course, that Garden is in any way obvious. But, if you imagine yourself as a reviewer, you will see that the stories can be summed up nicely in a few sentences – nicely enough for a weekly book page certainly. I’m sure you won’t see the sort of idiocies that were written about Summer. I wonder what Elsa thinks of recent events in Fort Chimo.344 Or is 344 Possibly a reference to the implications of the James Bay and Northern Quebec Agreement (November 1976), particularly as they concerned the linguistic and cultural rights of the area’s First Nations peoples under Quebec’s proposed language charter (Bill 101). GR had touched indirectly on the topic in Windflower: ‘However, just when the talk at church was all about uniting and praying to the same God, the Eskimos became once more the centre of the old dispute between the governments. “These people are ours,” said one government. “All the Eskimos are under our authority.” “Not at all,” replied the other government. “These particular Eskimos live on our territory so they are ours.” A few unruly Eskimos then maintained that they belonged only to themselves so would the governments just leave them in peace. This squabble was constantly under discussion in the white men’s village and Elsa would return from her stints of cleaning with her head hopelessly jumbled’ (Windflower [Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1970], 141–2).

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she just wandering beside the river, unaware of what goes on? I’m afraid that this is so and that the time is long past when we could expect a ‘statement’ from her – or even one of her nice little letters. I myself am sick about this and other things. I don’t imagine that you hear, or read, the statements that Morin345 and the others make in English on the whole subject of English schooling. The contempt in the voices, the self-congratulation, the endless references to events in Ontario in 1912. I simply can’t go on with this because it upsets me too much. Of course the law will be resisted. Only the most naive could imagine that such a thing as language could be legislated. One of the things that troubles me most is the impression I get from our papers of the way news from outside the province is reported in the French-language Quebec press. I understand from things I’ve read that Le Soleil is particularly given to distortions, omissions etc. In fact, I gather that only Le Devoir gives any sort of fair presentation. Well, let’s talk of something more pleasant. Bob Weaver of Tamarack Review would very much like to print the story about Deborah – I can’t remember for the moment whether it’s called ‘The Satellite’ or ‘Satellites.’ I have a copy here which needs only to be retyped with some changes you and I made when we went over all the stories here together. (He has read this.) What do you think? Payment won’t be huge but the story will be read in English as it deserves to be. And publication in Tamarack wouldn’t interfere with eventual book publication – quite the reverse actually. I still think something might be done with the 3 discarded stories.346 You wouldn’t think of adding another? Though I can’t undertake to translate an entire book, I could manage something briefer. Anyway, first of all Tamarack. If you give me the go-ahead, I’ll get the story typed up and send you a copy for a final look-through. (I don’t do my own typing any more.) And later I think we should definitely think about having the 3 stories published together (even if no more than 3). If Jack isn’t interested I think I could probably find another publisher. The 3 stories would make a beautiful little book with exactly the right sort of drawings. 345 Claude Morin (b. 1929) was at the time Quebec’s Minister of Intergovernmental Affairs. 346 The three stories in question – ‘The Satellites,’ ‘The Telephone,’ and ‘The Wheelchair’ – were originally to have been published in the same volume as the novel Windflower (see GR–JM, 29 January 1970).

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Well, someone just knocked at my door offering me a pamphlet called: The Family? Will it Survive? I declined, suspecting that this may be the Jehovah’s Witnesses in new guise. At any rate, I didn’t find the question very urgent this particular Sunday afternoon. I hope this will still find you in P.R.347 Let me know when you go back to Quebec.



affectionately, Joyce

Petite-Rivière St-François September 7, 1977 Dear Joyce, Thanks for your good letter. I agree for Tamarack Review. Let Bob Weaver have ‘The Satellites.’ Whilst you’re having a copy made for me, have one made also of the two other stories: ‘The Telephone’ and ‘The Wheelchair,’ for, do you know, that I have no copy of the lot. At least I didn’t find a thing when I went through my last search. Perhaps, before you give your final answer to Bob Weaver, you might give me a little time to have a good look again at the story. Your idea of a book may be good. I don’t know yet. It would be a little short. I don’t think I could put myself in the mood to write another story to fill in. First of all, it would be a miracle to recapture the spirit, the tone, all that! I think I exhausted the subject, as far as I am concerned, though it is far from emptied. Yes, I wonder what little Elsa thinks as she walks and walks along the Koksoak. Poor crushed little creature, yet less enslaved for all her misfortune than the tyrants who come these days to her country to put down the law.348 I never dreamt that I could write such a prophetic story. I am like you, sick of the talk, talk, talk, on how much more generous we are towards our minority than the Anglophones of other provinces. I shut my ears, I try to hang on to my inner truth so beaten from every side. It’s no use talking, these days, except to very few. True Le Soleil is one of the worst for omissions, distorsions etc.

347 Petite-Rivière-Saint-François. 348 That is, ‘to lay down the law.’

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Happily Le Devoir stands up staunchly and I notice that Ryan349 more than any other journalist or editorialist is quoted these days. Is that maybe a good sign. The madness may pass over. Or deposit hatred on both sides which would last almost forever. I was brought up in much the same atmosphere. I dread it like the worst evil. Well, give me more news. I expect to be here a week or so yet. I eventually will have to return, though nothing in a sense calls me back to Quebec. I find my country in nature alone these days. Good luck to you



Affectionately Gabrielle

[Toronto,] Sept. 24, 1977 Dear Gabrielle, Many thanks for Ces enfants de ma vie and for the warm and most wonderful inscription. It touched my heart and I thought how splendid it is that we should be friends. You have given us another marvellous book and, like all the others, it is one that only you could write. I’ve read it more quickly than I would have liked to. My sister350 is coming from Edmonton (I don’t know exactly when and that’s the trouble) so I wanted to get at least some word to you before reading and writing time turns temporarily into talking time. How well you have captured that time and the innocence and courage of children. I don’t suppose everyone can see, as I do, how much in command you always are, with what subtlety you build your effects – by beautiful contrasts, by turning a thing just slightly to show another aspect. Many pictures remain in my mind and always shall. Nil (with his braces) planting himself so firmly on his little feet. The last of the Dimitrioffs writing and writing all over the blackboard. (That is a magnificent story.) And I laughed for about five minutes when poor Émile climbed up on the chair for the dozenth time. I don’t see how people (anyone) can say there is no humour in

349 Claude Ryan (1925–2004) was the publisher of Le Devoir at the time; he also wrote editorials for the paper. 350 Vivian Henwood.

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your writing. I always laugh from time to time when I read your books, right out loud as I never do when reading so-called funny books. I suppose because your humour is so affecting, sometimes close to heartbreak – the image of that poor little willing soul scrambling up again and again. Médéric’s story is so complex, holds so much that I scarcely know what to say of it. It may be one of the best things you’ve written to this date. Everything about it is just right and it is so evocative – the moment when the girl thinks with almost joy of dying in the snowstorm will surely speak to anyone who has even a faint recollection of being young. You’ve portrayed the two young people marvellously well. And of Médéric I wonder, as I do of all those other children: Where is he now? I hope the book will get at least some of the reviews it deserves. But never mind. It will get readers. Bob Weaver is delighted that he can have ‘The Satellites’ for Tamarack. My typist should be able to get at it week after next and then I’ll send you a copy. I surmise, from the address on the book, that the weather has sent you back to Quebec. It rains and rains here as well. Today is as black and cheerless as November.



With thanks again and warm affection, Joyce

[Toronto,] October 28, 1977 Dear Gabrielle, Herewith 2 of the Eskimo stories. ‘The Wheelchair’ will be along a little later. To my horror I thought I’d lost it, then remembered that it had been broadcast by CBC. They searched but seemed also to have lost or mislaid the script. However, they did find a transcript of the broadcast. Someone was given the task of typing this up. I’ve now corrected this typing – for misspellings of names, spacing, paragraphing etc. It must now be typed afresh (by my typist), photocopied etc. Will you look at ‘Satellites’ when you can so I can hand it on to Tamarack? They’re in no great hurry but I’d like to let them have it when I can.

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I still think the 3 make a nice shape and might make a pleasant small book. We can think of that later. Art-work perhaps. Possibly a few Eskimo prints – not to illustrate the stories as such but to provide atmosphere. We can discuss this when you’ve read the 3 stories together in English and thought of them on that basis. I’ve been rereading your children since I last wrote and finding more and more.351 Truly it is a marvellous book. I hope it’s getting the reviews it deserves. Garden seems well-received – as far as I’ve seen.



affectionately, Joyce

Quebec, November 4, 1977 Dear Joyce, Thank you so much for your good letter and the copy of ‘The Satellites.’ I have read it with more interest than I thought I could still feel for that story. Your translation is very good. I’m sending back the copy to you – which you will return quickly after you’ve seen it, will you? – in case you should wish to take a glimpse at the very few remarks I made as I went along and which might lead you to make two or three small changes, if you wish. By the way, page 20 is missing. I couldn’t find it in the bundle of sheets. I hope you have a copy. Also I’m wondering about the spelling of Jonathon. In the first place, first time it’s mentioned, it is spelled so: Jonathan. But throughout the rest of the story it becomes Jonathon. I’ve put a sign in the margin so you can track the name easily. I found ‘The Telephone’ very alert, moving briskly and still funny – a sad sort of mirth in a sense. Yes, perhaps the three might make a fair enough book with just a little more work on the stories – small very small changes. I wonder if Jack would be interested to publish them. He came to see me at PetiteRivière, full of many projects and good ideas concerning me. The trou-

351 GR had sent JM a copy of the recently published Ces enfants de ma vie (see note 340 and JM–GR, 24 September 1977).

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ble is that in the end he has no time for all that he would wish to undertake. Possibly he undertakes too much. The reviews on the Garden, coming from the West are particularly good. They seem to find great truth in the stories – and they should know. I’m getting lonely for you. What a pity I’m too tired to travel to you. I hope you will come soon. Don’t forget to send me back my copy of ‘The Satellites’ when you are through with it. Along with the missing page. As soon as you have had time to deal with the few details I’ve pointed out, you can send a copy to Tamarack Review. Perhaps you could do away with some ‘little’ on page 22. With affectionate greetings Gabrielle If we should decide in the end to make a book of the Eskimo stories, would you be willing to look after the whole business, I being already to[o] heavily burdened? And what about a title. Simply: Eskimo Tales? or Eskimo Stories?



[Quebec,] December 4, 1977 Dear Joyce, I’ve just received in book form: Divided We Stand. What a sad title! I find your article one of the best,352 indeed the very best in tone, emotion and truth, undeniable truth. It is very convincing, Joyce. I’m a little afraid, though, that those who need to be convinced will not be among readers of that book. Never mind, you have done your best, which is sincere, loving, strong, almost poignant. I can’t tell you how true it rings ... to my ear at least, and, therefore, I imagine, to many.

352 Divided We Stand, ed. Gary Geddes (Toronto: Peter Martin, 1977). This is a collection of 32 short texts – poems, essays, and excerpts from longer works – that all reflect, in one way or another, on the Quebec-Canada relationship. The contributions are from writers, journalists, academics, and politicians and include a one-page ‘Note to the Editor’ from GR. See note 126 for the source of the quotation used in the title of JM’s essay, ‘... A Difficult Country, and Our Home,’ 186–91.

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Some weeks back I sent you ‘The Satellites’ for small corrections. Have you received the parcel? And sent The Tamarack Review their copy. I gathered that you might be waiting to have ‘The Wheelchair’ ready to send back the two stories together. I hate to give you this trouble. If something comes out of those three stories, I’ll owe it to you. In spite of our grief concerning our country, I cannot help wishing you a very good Christmas, my dear Joyce, and a fruitful, happy new year, and great progress in your coming book. Also good health. Mine was not too bad this summer, but we are coming to the time of the year when I feel almost at my worst. It is getting a little painful, above all wearisome. Cheer up, I have a feeling that we have not hit the deep hollow of the wave yet in Quebec, but there are many, many signs that a good majority is already detached353 – at least in some ways – of the present government. If only we had a good, strong opposition! Then, I feel, we would be over the danger line. There is great confusion in every sphere. But then confusion is everywhere at this time in the world. Hoping to hear from you soon



Lovingly Gabrielle

[Toronto-Montreal,] Dec. 9/77 Dear Gabrielle, Just a note scratched on the train on my way to Montreal for the weekend to thank you for your letter – 2 letters actually. I’m glad you liked my piece. It came from the heart. Next week – if there isn’t a strike (there’s already a little one in Toronto) – I should be sending you the corrected story, the 3rd one & the missing page from ‘Satellites’ (which somehow failed to be xeroxed). I’ll be in touch with Jack soon. I’ve been a bit dilatory but I always do things eventually.

353 That is, ‘a good number of Quebeckers are already starting to distance themselves – at least in some ways – from the present government.’

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I have to come down this way again in February & that might be an occasion for me to take an extra couple of days & continue to Quebec. I miss you too! I’ll explain more about this when I write more fully. It is hard to write on one’s lap in a moving vehicle. At any rate I felt that I must make an effort to arrange something before too many years & months go by! I hope you can read this!



affectionately, Joyce

[Toronto,] Feb. 3, 1978 Dear Gabrielle, I’ve been tardy and remiss and I apologize. But I did give a copy of ‘Satellites’ to Tamarack some time ago. Herewith your corrected copy – with page 20. As my notes will make clear I’ve accepted very nearly all your suggested corrections. ‘Wheelchair’ I want to keep a bit longer – I may get some pages retyped and recopied. And I want to think about the end a bit and may discuss this with you. I had a meeting recently with Timothy Findley and William Whitehead who are writing your program.354 Some outdoor filming has been done in the west and elsewhere and filming has been begun – or is about to begin – on little scenes from the book. Actors will act silently with a voice over so the effect will be like reading the books rather than strict drama. I think it will be very nice. They made a (private) trip west during the fall and at that time visited your St Boniface house and, of all things, Altamont. They took some snaps which they showed me. Your house looks lovely though it seems to have lost its long gallery and Altamont has some quite beautiful houses and a tiny vacant church. They were quite delighted to make this ‘pilgrimage.’ I am finding this cold stormy weather rather tiring but I have done a lot of work. Also I have been more places than I like to go – Thunder

354 JM is referring to the CBC Television special program The Garden and the Cage (see note 329).

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Bay, Ottawa and Peterborough last month (I was able while in Peterborough to get up to Lakefield for dinner with Margaret Laurence). I am off tomorrow to Charlottetown and a few other spots. I hope you find the winter not too trying and are well. Forgive this rather rushed letter as I am anxious to break this long silence. I think of you often and am still hoping to get down to see you some time. with all affectionate wishes, Joyce Also excuse the queer things my typewriter is doing!



[Toronto,] March 19, 1978 Dear Gabrielle, Herewith a copy of ‘Wheelchair.’355 I’ve now decided that the end is all right – with the possible addition of ‘she’ as I’ve noted. A more serious problem is on page 11 (see my pencil mark). ‘Of obscure transparency’ is a poor rendition of ‘de transparence obscure’ (bottom page 103 text). Should be ‘the transparent dark of the sky’, ‘dark translucent sky’ – something of the sort. Anyway, we’ll consider this finally when we go through it again. Just keep this note meanwhile. I wonder whether you mentioned this subject to Jack in Calgary. At any rate, I propose to write to him at once. (And how was the Calgary fiesta?356 I’m dying to hear from you about it. I was invited but not to have fare paid so felt I was well out of it. Anyway, I had a reading at Sherbrooke at that time and took the opportunity to have a little holi-

355 The excerpts discussed here and in GR–JM, 22 March 1978 and 13 April 1978, are not reproduced in this volume because the translations in question (‘The Telephone’ and the ‘The Wheelchair’) were not published (see note 363). 356 A reference to the Conference on the Canadian Novel held at the University of Calgary in February 1978 and ‘organized by Jack McClelland on the occasion of the twentieth anniversary of the New Canadian Library series ... Tributes were paid [to GR] from every quarter; she was fêted, surrounded, but could take only four days of it and returned home exhausted. Fortunately she had been able to spend a great deal of time with the novelist Margaret Laurence, whom she was meeting for the first time but with whom she had begun exchanging letters not long before and would continue until the end of her life’ (François Ricard, Gabrielle Roy: A Life, 463).

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day in North Hatley. It was most interesting and more restorative than Calgary would have been.) Tamarack is supposed to write to you and let you know when ‘Satellites’ will appear. They are not prompt in correspondence as they are all busy people who do this work out of love in their free time. However, it is in the works. I hope you have had a good winter. It has been a trying time for me but at least I’ve done a great deal of work, almost too fluently, I sometimes feel. It almost frightens me. Do drop me a line when you have time.



affectionately, Joyce

Quebec, March 22, 1978 Dear Joyce, I owe you several letters and I’m beginning to feel ashamed of myself. Still, it’s not all my fault. Lately I’ve had to go almost every day for a treatment at the hospital for a back ache. It was agony for a while. Now the worst is over and I am mending nicely, but I imagine I will have to go on for these treatments for a while yet, and they seem to take the best part of the day and leave me no time at all, either because I’m too tired when I return or because I have lost the trend of my thoughts. But to-day I decided that I must at least drop you a line. We will leave the Calgary fiesta for another time, though. Perhaps I’ll phone some day and tell you about it. On the whole it was a sort of great big drunken binge – what I saw of it, which wasn’t much. I had the great pleasure though of meeting Margaret Laurence and several other wonderful people, such as Brian Moore and Mitchell,357 quite a few others. Actually I did not take part in the general activities, Jack

357 The Irish-born writer Brian Moore (1921–99) moved to Canada in 1948. He wrote, among others, the novels The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne (1955), The Luck of Ginger Coffey (1960), and Black Robe (1985). Novelist and playwright William Ormond (W.O.) Mitchell (1914–98) is probably best known for his novel Who Has Seen the Wind (1947) and for the radio and television series Jake and the Kid (CBC Radio: 1950–6; CBC Television: 1961).

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saving me, as it seems, for a sort of flag or figure head. In any case, it made me feel a little foolish. I went over ‘The Wheelchair.’358 It reads rather nicely. I agree with you about the correction on page 11. I think ‘dark translucent sky’ is rather good. Page 14. last paragraph, second line to take the Old One for a walk. Somehow walk seems strange to me. Could we have a word less suggestive of the use of the limbs: outing ..., stroll ... I leave it to you. Page 15. 2nd paragraph. I think you have a mistake in spelling. It ought to be mixed, I imagine, instead of mised. Page 17. How would you like the following? (I never did care for my ending in the French and just now discover why) ‘“We have to go on living nowadays.” And she ran quickly into the warmth of the cabin.’ Do you think it would help the movement to break the end in two sentences as I have just outlined. Let me know what you feel about these small changes. No, I didn’t have a chance to speak to Jack about the Eskimo Tales, in Calgary. But I mentioned the matter – slightly – when he came to visit me last summer at Petite Rivière. He seemed mi[l]dly interested. But he has in mind to produce a new collection – something vaguely like the New Canadian Library but shorter, smaller books running to 60 to 80 pages or perhaps a little more, and the Eskimo stories might fit in. However Jack gave me the impression of carrying more than he can on his shoulders. So I don’t know if that project of his is serious. In any case, I am pleased that the three stories are neat and tidy. Whatever becomes of them, the two of us will have completed our task. Let me know which corrections you favour so that I can take note of them on my copy. I will write again before too long. By the way, I discovered that the Calgary air – very pure and bracing – suited me beautifully. Even in just a few days, I saw a great improvement in my respiratory troubles. It’s kind of maddening isn’t [it], for how could I ever make up my mind to go and live in Calgary even for the sake of a great improvement in my health. It’s not a bad sort of city in many ways, from what I saw of it. And you can catch a glimpse of the Rockies in the not too far distance. Beautiful, mysterious snow peaks rising in a clear high sky! Still, just as Deborah, I prefer my misery, I suppose, to l’ennui.

358 See note 355.

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Bless you! I’m so glad your work is progressing well. But not a bit surprised. Somehow I always expected this good lifting wave would come to you. Your whole life work deserved it. And as Shakespeare said: ‘There is a tide in the affairs of men ...’359 Affectionately Gabrielle [In top left-hand corner, GR has added:] I haven’t had a word from Tamarack yet. When they do publish ‘The Wheelchair’ will they send me a copy, please. G. [In top right-hand corner, below date, GR has added:] Happy Easter!



[Toronto,] April 9, 1978 Dear Gabrielle, It was so nice to hear from you but I’m sorry to hear about your back. Back-ache is so miserable and I hope it will be all over very soon. I imagine you’ve now heard from Tamarack. (Between them they’d lost my letter with your address.) At any rate, the story should be out at end of June.360 SO THEY SAY. Like all small magazines they are often late so don’t worry. And they are very generous with copies. I wrote to Jack a few days ago and we will see what he says. He also is not prompt as we well know. The changes you suggest for ‘Wheelchair’ seem good and I’ll let you know when I finally make them. I am still hesitant about ‘go on living’ – last page – and want to think about it several times on different days. ‘We have to live now’ has a particular force and strength that I’m not sure the alternate conveys as well. I can’t explain why this is. It’s simply something I feel. Anyway, I’ll think about it further and let you know.

359 GR first discovered Shakespeare, whose use of language fascinated her, when she was a student at the Académie Saint-Joseph in St Boniface, Manitoba. She describes this experience in chapter 5 of her posthumous autobiography, La détresse et l’enchantement, translated by Patricia Claxton as Enchantment and Sorrow. The quotation is taken from the play Julius Caesar, act IV, scene 3. 360 ‘The Satellites’ appeared in the Tamarack Review 74 (Spring 1978): 5–28.

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9 April 1978

Bill Whitehead said he would be writing to you and would tell you about the filming at my place.361 It was really quite entertaining and I wish I’d been less nervous ahead of time and could have paid more attention to the mechanics of the thing. Then presto when the interview started, I wasn’t nervous at all and I believe they were pleased. I had a full crew here as wouldn’t have happened if you’d consented to be filmed. At one point I suddenly noticed that I had an attentive (and silent) audience lined up on the couch. Producer, assistant producer etc et al. Within five minutes of completion they had all departed with nothing to show they’d been here but a small box that says it once contained colour negative film and an empty plastic reel. There’s no saying what bits they’ll finally use. I tried to do well by you and dispel any image of you as a morose individual who prefers to sulk in the underbrush. Now I come to some news that isn’t all that pleasant. I have cataracts in both eyes and rather severe sight problems at present. This has been coming on for about five years but I tried to believe it might not be so – till it was confirmed last autumn. (My younger sister362 had 2 cataract operations years ago.) I expect to have the first operation on May 23 – I’m waiting for confirmation from the hospital. My so-called good eye (the right) is now deteriorating more quickly, so there may be an awkward 3 months till I can get glasses or a lens for the eye that’s been operated on. I think, in fact I know, that you will realize what this is like. Everything looks exceedingly dingy – that’s the only word for it – and reading is a strain (though I still can). The strain of just seeing leads to a constant headache and is very fatiguing. So I pace myself as much as I can. The doctor says prognosis is excellent – my general health is good as are retinas, optic nerves, tear ducts etc. I’ve told almost no one because, having decided (for a variety of reasons) to delay the first operation till spring, I felt it would be better if everyone thought I was perfectly all right. In fact, I didn’t want every conversation to centre around that and to be bombarded with sympathy and concern of the wrong sort. But this explains why I’ve been slow about taking things to the copy shop etc. I’ve had to slow down a bit. I’ve done a lot of work though and I’m pleased about that.

361 JM had been interviewed for the CBC Television special program The Garden and the Cage (see note 329). 362 Eileen Starkey.

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Incidentally I haven’t told Bill Whitehead or Timothy Findley in case you talk or write to them. T.F. is chairman of the Writers’ Union and, telling him might involve letting a lot of other people know before I want them to. People mean so well but I know several who would be calling daily to see if I needed help yet to cook my meals. I’ll let it be generally known a couple of weeks before I go to the hospital. Meanwhile I find the sort of pen you use a bit hard to make out now. I myself use a fine black marking pen nowadays. Do you think you could get one of those to write to me with? I can read your letters but that particular bluish shade now looks considerably paler to me. It will be wonderful to be seeing better again. I always had excellent vision, as you know. Write when you can and I’ll keep you posted about when I finally do go to the hospital etc.



affectionately, Joyce

[Toronto,] April 12, 1978 Dear Gabrielle, You’ll be pleased to hear that Jack has answered my letter very promptly to say it’s ‘all systems go’ for the stories and that I’m to send them along right away. I’ll have to get another copy made of ‘Satellites’ today and make the ‘Wheelchair’ corrections, then mail the stories tomorrow.363 Jack says he has ‘a novel’ of yours slated for the fall (I assume that he means Ces enfants) so this book could appear in 1979. You don’t by chance have a book about to appear in French, do you? At any rate it will be nice for you to have annual publication.

363 The project did not go forward in the end. ‘Barnaby’s Telephone,’ a condensed version of JM’s translation of ‘The Telephone,’ was published in the July 1980 issue of Reader’s Digest (see JM–GR, 11 April 1980, GR–JM, 15 April 1980, and JM–GR, 13 May 1980).

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13 April 1978

I’ll send you a list of the changes I make in a few days – probably early next week. In haste, affectionately, Joyce What would you think of The Satellites as the general title? I think it has its merits. Anyway, this is not an urgent problem for the moment.



Québec, April 13, 1978 Dear Joyce, I’m not sure that this pencil will help you with my handwriting. Let me know and I will try to find something better, if this doesn’t help. It seems that I did not tell you half of what I wanted to say last night, on the phone. Which brings me to ‘The Telephone.’ Would you have a look page 2 – 3rd & 4th line? I notice ‘by the clean ...’ and on the following line ‘by shoving’. Is that deliberate? Or could we eliminate the second by, replacing it perhaps by ‘and’? What is your feeling? In the same paragraph 10th line, is there not a word missing here? Shouldn’t [it] be ‘an astuce employee of the Company’364 or ‘just an employee’ for that matter? Page 7 – line 9, a mistake of your typist. ‘If he were ...’ Page 17 – 13rd line – same thing: ‘home’ instead of ‘him’. Of course you probably have seen these slips, but I thought I might save you some work by pointing them to you. I’m very concerned about your eyes, Joyce, and I’m anxious to hear that all is well, following the operation. Will you please let me know, in due course of time, whenever you feel up to scribble a note. Affectionately Gabrielle

364 That is, ‘an astute employee of the company.’ The French original reads ‘un astucieux cerveau de la Compagnie’ (‘ Le téléphone,’ in La rivière sans repos [Montreal: Beauchemin, 1970], 64). See note 355.

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If the stories should be published, have you a title in mind? Could it be Eskimo Tales? Or Stories? Nowadays one hear only of the Inuit people. Eskimo will look old-fashioned, no doubt! G. Page 6 – 5 line from bottom ‘He wanted, however, only ...’ Is this clear, dear? I don’t seem to catch the sense here.



Apt. 304, 105 Isabella St. Toronto, May 2, 1978 Dear Gabrielle, How marvellous that you’ve won the Governor General’s Award. Deserved too. Though I haven’t read all the other books I’m sure that none could have been within a mile (kilometre?) of Ces enfants.365 I’m really delighted by the news. Thanks for your letter (much easier to read) and call. Just 3 weeks from today I’ll have the op and I’m anxious to have it done with – and the three months till I can get a contact lens for that eye. I sent the stories to Jack and received a note of acknowledgement from his secretary because he was ‘out of the country.’ And just a few days before he’d been making a poor girl climb a rickety ladder at the Montreal Book Fair! I don’t imagine that he’ll be away for long. This is just a note because I wanted to send my congratulations very promptly. Keep me posted about when you go to Petite etc and I’ll let you know how things go on this side. affectionately, Joyce I saw that Liberté had a glowing review of Ces enfants.366



365 Ces enfants de ma vie won the French-language fiction award for 1977. 366 François Hébert, ‘Chroniques. Littérature québécoise. Gabrielle Roy: Ces enfants de ma vie,’ Liberté 115 (January–February 1978): 102–5.

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30 May 1978

[Toronto,] May 30, 1978 Dear Gabrielle, Just to say the op. (seemingly) went off okay a week ago today. I did not like lying still all that time with just a local but I was ambulant after the first day & met all sorts of interesting people with patched eyes. A nurse comes every 2nd day to change dressings & I’m to see the doctor again on Friday. Meanwhile I go out a bit, usually accompanied. Unfortunately we’re having a heat wave, so I usually go by taxi. I’ll write more fully next time.

 [card]

affectionately, Joyce

Petite-Rivière-St-François August 30, 1978

Dear Joyce, I hope your eyes have kept improving. Although I neither wrote nor phoned you for a long time, I have been a little worried about you through the summer. Have you seen ‘The Satellites’ in Tamarack? It reads and looks well. I haven’t heard a word from Jack McClelland about that and other matters for a long time. Apparently he has gone in hiding again. Did you manage to go in the country for a while? The summer here was exquisite, not quite the Enchanted one – because of my own heart or failure of attention – but exquisite just the same. My health has improved a little but I feel that it is precarious. Hoping you are as well as can be.



Yours affectionately Gabrielle

17 September 1978

215

[Toronto,] September 17, 1978 Dear Gabrielle, Thank you for the card and such a beautiful one – how nice to have the Water Hen used in this way.367 On Friday I had an ‘extended use lens’ put in my bad eye AND I CAN SEE. If it works, it doesn’t have to come out at night, is just checked every six weeks or so by the doctor. Yesterday was ‘Welcome Back World Day’ and I was all over the streets, rejoicing in sight – the sky, the colours of buildings, leaves, people’s faces. Luckily it was a magnificent September day of great clarity. Today it is raining and all I can claim to see is a deeper shade of grey, but even that has its charm. And how marvellous to walk at my normal speed. I’ve had to move so cautiously and just ten days ago I was almost knocked over by a shopping cart coming around quickly (and I think carelessly) on my blind side. In two or three weeks, provided this lens works with me, I’ll get new reading glasses. I can read with the old ones but not for long. As you can imagine, this hasn’t been high on my list of favourite summers but, with the help of my excellent young typist, I’ve managed to do quite a lot of work. She is very good at transcribing scribbles that I was writing more or less by feel. I’m very glad to hear that you’re feeling at least somewhat better. I must try to get in touch with Jack now though I gather he’s done one of his vanishing acts. Thanks again for the lovely card, affectionately, Joyce I’m sending this to Quebec. In case there’s a strike it might have a better chance to reach that far at least! P.S. I did have a little stay in the country, was well looked after and greatly revived by it.



367 JM dated this letter May 17, 1978, by mistake. The card in question is GR’s note of 30 August 1978, which depicts part of a small settlement in Portage-des-Prés, Manitoba. The text on the back of the card mentions GR’s novel, La Petite Poule d’Eau (Where Nests the Water Hen).

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27 October 1978

Apt. 304, 105 Isabella St. Toronto, Oct. 27, 1978 Dear Gabrielle, It’s so nice to be able to send letters again that I thought I’d write to you – as I would have done before now if it had been possible. A couple of weeks ago I was invited by the CBC to see a screening of ‘our’ program. It will be broadcast on February 14 and I was told that arrangements will be made for you to see it. I was really delighted with your part. Frankly, I’d have liked it much better if the entire program had been devoted to you and your work. My thoughts about the M-C. B.368 part shall remain silent. I imagine that yours will be somewhat similar. You appear as a beautiful series of still photos with your voice behind – from the tape you made years ago for (with?) Donald Cameron. You come through sounding marvellously characteristic and like yourself. It works very well. I appear in small snatches, talking at nothing as one does on television. There are also little scenes from some of the books, acted silently while a woman’s voice is heard reading your words. These are very good – Christine and the old man beside the lake are most touching, for instance. I liked all the actors and actresses who play your characters with the possible exception of Rose-Anna – I do think she’d have combed her hair more often.369 At any rate, I think you’ll feel happy about these little scenes. In the scenes from M-C. B.’s books, the characters wear grotesque masks and dance jerkily. This differentiates these scenes from yours, which are presented as being tender and human and real. I hope you are having a good autumn and are feeling well. I myself am still seeing excellently – and that seems happiness enough.



affectionately, Joyce

368 Marie-Claire Blais, whose work was featured with GR’s in the CBC Television special program The Garden and the Cage (see note 329). 369 Christine is the narrator of Rue Deschambault (Street of Riches) and La route d’Altamont (The Road Past Altamont); the reference is to a chapter in the latter, ‘Le vieillard et l’enfant’ (‘The Old Man and the Child’). Rose-Anna is one of the main characters of Bonheur d’occasion (The Tin Flute).

2 November 1978

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Québec, November 2, 1978 Dear Joyce, It was so good to receive yesterday one of your wonderful letters, as of old. I realized then how much I had missed them through the last months. Most of all, I am happy to read that you yourself feel that to see and be able to read and write quite easily is in itself happiness. Often, we need a period of stress or ordeal to realize how grateful we should be for so many riches we possess without knowing it, or at least without sufficient gratitude. It has happened to me many, many times. I’m glad you were able to see ‘our’ program and I am most impatient to see it too.370 But I am leaving at the end of this month for four months approximately in Florida. I do not relish the thought of spending the winter there so much. But I don’t feel up to a longer trip and a more difficult organization as I would have to face if I were to go to Provence, for instance, fight my way to find a sufficiently heated apartment for instance. So I am going to Florida where the everyday life is duller and easier, in a sense. My doctor insists upon my leaving so I’ll try to stay away during the coldest months at least. So how will I be able to see ‘our’ program? Perhaps a way will be found. The makers of this program certainly deserve praise and admiration for having carried on their plan with so little help on my part – though not through my fault. And they managed to lay hands on this interview I gave Donald Cameron five or six years ago, I guess. They certainly are tenacious. I’ll let you know when I arrive in Florida and will give you my address. I’m going near Miami, at Hollywood, but may move to some other place after a month. Anyhow, if you should write before you get my address, Marcel will forward your letter to me. Thank God that your sight is restored, that you are able to work and enjoy life. That is the best news I have had in quite a long time.

 370 See note 329 and JM–GR, 27 October 1978.

Affectionately yours Gabrielle

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7 December 1978

Hollywood, December 7, 1978 Dear Joyce, I’ve landed in Dan McGee’s furnace – is that the name of the character in Robert Service’s celebrated poem?371 From 80 to 86F by day, almost as much at night. I never dreamt there was such a difference in temperature between mid and South Florida. Strangely, though, this weird climate has improved my bronchial trouble. And I can apparently survive the air conditioning at night. I can also sit under the trees here – hardly leafy – without starting to wheeze. Morally, I am not much better, Florida is uninspiring, but I have decided to make the best of it now that I am here. Perhaps I should have tried to make the South of France, but it is so difficult to find an efficiency apartment there and I do not care much for hotel life. Still, if the weather should cool, I will find advantages here. I have a very neat, rather pretty and most convenient little apartment, with stores not too far, when it is cool enough to walk there. One drawback: I am about two miles from the ocean. However, I will find means of going once a day, I suppose, when I am rested and up to some going about. Right now I do practically nothing but read in my air-conditioned rooms or sit by the pool under the banana tree. A rather strange picture of myself, don’t you think? How I miss my two-seat swing of Petite-Rivière, and the tide and the sharp air. I believe I will soon miss even the snow, even the cold. I suppose I am somewhat Deborah myself. By the way, do you feel that we create characters partly ourselves or whom we could ressemble, given the circumstances. Or our opposites? Or a little of all this? Are your eyes much improved? I was made so happy by the good news contained in your last letter that you could now easily see your way around when walking in the streets. I suppose you are already at work. Are you working on a novel, now? By the way, I see we are both

371 Writer Robert Service (1874–1958) was born in England, but spent a number of years in Canada (1894–1912). GR was confusing two of his best-known poems, both inspired by his years in the Yukon, ‘The Shooting of Dan McGrew’ and ‘The Cremation of Sam McGee.’

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included in the book Best Contemporary Canadian Short Stories.372 Quite a handsome book! I felt pleased to be in your company between two covers. Myself, I feel quite incapable to write, even think, it seems, in this langourous climate. Perhaps I should just let myself drift and I’ll feel the good of my stay afterwards, when it’s over. This has happened to me quite a few times before. Soon we shall be near Christmas. I wish you a very happy Christmas and a good new year. You probably will be spending some time then with your sister or other relatives. I hope that it will be comforting to you and bring you peace of mind, peace of heart. That is the only thing I long for, now. By the way Children of My Heart should come out in January or rather February, I suppose.373 I have not yet heard from Lily, since I arrived. I am quite impatient to know what you think of the translation. Jack gives no sign of life. I am much afraid that he is drinking excessively. Such a pity! For the man is quite lovable! But so strained and anguished, I imagine. Well, good wishes again, dear Joyce



Affectionately Gabrielle

[Toronto,] January 23, 1979 Dear Gabrielle, I meant to write to you long ago but somehow the days just went by as they always do. I hope you are finding life more pleasant down there with the sun and that you’ve found a way to get to the ocean. If it’s any consolation, it’s been a stormy January – in Quebec as well as in Ontario, I understand. (Though I did hear that Florida also had cold weather.) One of the joys of a Toronto winter is icy sidewalks. House and apartment owners are supposed to clean the public sidewalks in 372 Probably a reference to The Best Modern Canadian Short Stories, ed. Ivon Owen and Morris Wolfe (Edmonton: Hurtig Publishers, 1978). It contains GR’s ‘A Tramp at the Door’ (‘Un vagabond frappe à notre porte’), taken from her collection Garden in the Wind (see note 257), and JM’s ‘So Many Have Died,’ originally published in the Tamarack Review and in her collection A Private Place. 373 Children of My Heart, Alan Brown’s translation of Ces enfants de ma vie, was published by McClelland and Stewart in 1979.

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26 March 1979

front of their property but few do it very well. So one walks with downcast eyes – here a cleared bit, here lumps, here just footmarks – and when there is freezing rain, as there was a few days ago, this irregular terrain hardens into a permanent relief map. I found a large pair of boots with thick crepe rubber soles – sort of southern mukluks – and take slow steps, downward looking, as I said. Does this make you feel better? I guess it is a human characteristic to want what we have not. In other words, we are all of us Deborahs in a sense. As for your query about one’s choice of characters to write about, we always write of ourselves, I suppose, to some extent. Even if a character is alien, it comes through our head. And then of course there is a general humanness, I believe. I remember reading the words of some anonymous woman. ‘I feel very much like myself on the outside,’ she said, ‘but the farther in I get, the more I feel like everyone else.’ This is wise, I think. I’ve heard nothing whatever from Jack – nothing about him either, for that matter. No doubt he’ll surface one of these days. I have little to say today, just wanted to say hello and inquire about you. I’ve been working hard and going through the usual – and predictable – stages of exhilaration and horror. Do write when you get time. affectionately, Joyce [In top left-hand corner, JM has added:] Excuse terrible typing. My machine sticks badly & must be replaced.



Apt. 304, 105 Isabella [Toronto,] March 26, 1979 Dear Gabrielle, I feel very guilty about not writing to you immediately after the screening of the program as I intended to.374 I was so sorry you were ill and couldn’t come up for it. We all were. I was coming down with a 374 The CBC Television special program The Garden and the Cage was broadcast on 14 February 1979 (see note 329 and JM–GR, 27 October 1978).

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cold at the time myself and proceeded to get it promptly. After that I had a slight eye infection which worried me – and the doctors – a bit. For a while I was always running to the eye clinic or the hospital emergency department (where I had some quite extraordinary experiences). I was allergic to the first antibiotic eye drops they gave me but the second kind worked. Or perhaps (more likely) the thing just cleared up on its own. The matter was minor – just what we called pink eye when I was a kid (i.e. just the membrane – skin of the eye? – inflamed),375 no involvement of the cornea or any such thing. But in cases like mine, they have to take extra care. After that, I fell and sprained – strained? – all the muscles in my left foot and am still at the stage of ‘keeping off it as much as possible’ though it gets better every day. Such a chapter of minor inconveniences! The program was a great success. Your face (unmoving) and recorded voice came over beautifully as I think I told you before. It is miraculous how they can take an old tape not of broadcast quality to start with, and by some process of re-recording several times cut away extraneous sound and give the voice its proper tone. (I don’t understand this but it was done.) The result was very warm and just like you. I heard good comments about the show, often from unexpected sources – a man who brings homemade bread to the Saturday market, for instance. And several tenants in this building, who never knew me by name before, now tell me what great admirers of your books they are. In fact, I have tentatively promised one of these that, when you are back in Canada, you will give him an autograph. He will, of course, provide postage for the return of the book in question. I told him I thought you would be willing to sign your name, which will apparently fill him with measureless joy. The CBC people here want to arrange a screening for you when you are back – just half a dozen people (including me!), no press, no fuss or anything. Do you think you would be able to come up some time? I believe that Carol will be away for all (or most) of April so it would be after that, and certainly at your convenience. I would be so happy to see you but of course it would depend on whether you feel up to it some time. I’m going to risk sending this to Quebec in case you are back – or

375 Conjunctivitis.

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25 June 1979

soon to be back. And once again, I’m so sorry that you were ill while in Florida. How did the winter turn out otherwise? Better, I hope. Do drop me a line when you get time. I miss you when I don’t hear from you.



affectionately, Joyce

[Toronto,] June 25, 1979 Dear Gabrielle, Right after our phone conversation I made a number of calls and gather that by now you must have received your prize money376 – and apologies for the delay, I hope. Like everything that is conducted by ‘voluntary labour,’ slip-ups and delays sometimes occur. I’m glad we talked and that I was able to speed things up. I had a phone call the other day from those responsible for the tv show.377 They will be charmed to send a cassette to Quebec for you to see it. I said that I doubted that you’d want to come in from the country simply for that but I am passing on the message. Perhaps you might call Carol Moore-Ede (416-***-3311 – extension 3551) or, if she’s not there Don McNeil will take the message. Or a note would do. They’ll be just as willing, of course, to arrange it in the fall when you’re back in town. I’ll be spending the month of July with a friend who is also a writer.378 I was there for a few weeks last year and we typed away at opposite ends of a fairly large house. The address is: c/o Boissonneau Cannington, Ont. I do not seem to have the phone number or the postal code in my book though I thought I had. At any rate, if you need to call me 376 A reference to the Magazine Fiction Award (one of the 1978 National Magazine Awards) given to GR for her short story ‘The Satellites,’ which had been published the previous year in the Tamarack Review. A cheque for $1000 accompanied the award. 377 The CBC Television special program The Garden and the Cage (see note 329). 378 Novelist and short story writer Alice Boissonneau.

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urgently, phone is listed under Arthur Boissonneau (a name that no one in Cannington knows how to pronounce!). I’m not having mail forwarded but give the address above just in case. I’ll probably come down at least once to pick up letters. I don’t trust the post office very much these days. I hope you are feeling well and revived in Petite. We’ve had nice weather here, though some heat already from time to time. I hope it is as pleasant where you are.

 [card]

affectionately, Joyce

[Toronto,] November 1, 1979

Dear Gabrielle, I have just heard through the Lily-Jack route about your illness.379 Jack and I had been speaking of you at a chance meeting last Friday. I told him I was concerned about not hearing from you for some time, otherwise he might not have thought to pass on the news. I’ll try to reach Marcel later for direct news. Meanwhile I send you my love and best strongest wishes for your well-being. Affectionately, Joyce This is a sample of Norwegian ‘peasant’ art: I save these cards for special people and times.



379 GR suffered a heart attack in October 1979. The respiratory and heart troubles from which she had suffered for many years were exacerbated by her distress at the approaching publication of Le miroir du passé (Montreal: Québec/Amérique, 1979), a memoir by her estranged sister Marie-Anna Adèle (1893–1998) that cast GR and other members of their family in an unflattering light. For details, see François Ricard, Gabrielle Roy: A Life, 414–17, 422–3, and 483–6.

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6 November 1979

Hôtel-Dieu-de-Québec Nov. 6, 1979 Dear Joyce, I have just received your card. It is lovely indeed and you are wise to save it for special occasions. I have spent eleven days in what I called the ‘bunker[,]’ the coronarian post.380 It is in itself a unique experience. I must try to tell you all about it some day. I am now transferred to quite a nice room overlooking the harbour, the great wheat elevators, etc. But I have to keep my windows shut because of the pollution resulting from the loading of wheat boats. I am picking [up] quite well, I think, may be able to return home next week. Am supposed afterwards to live more or less like a ruminating, munching cow for several months. Tell Lily and Jack that I am improving and have fond thoughts about them. If you do phone later, call after six if possible when Marcel is back home. Thanks, dear, for your concern and wonderful note. Affectionately yours Gabrielle [In top left-hand corner, GR has added:] Also tell Lily that I received her very endearing letter G.



[Toronto,] Nov. 10, 1979 Dear Gabrielle, I was so pleased and relieved to have your letter and to know you are out of the heart unit – or whatever it is called. I passed your message on to Lily, who will relay it to Jack more easily than I could. She too was delighted that you are better. I hope the next few months of rumination etc won’t be too trying. Have you plenty to read? I guess it will be available in any event. I have no special news. Oh yes, the peasant art of that card I sent you. Such work is called in Norwegian ‘rose maleri,’ which means rose painting. If people possess old chests, armoires, corner cupboards etc – articles that are much prized of course – they often have panels of such 380 That is, ‘the coronary care unit.’

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work (or in some cases are covered with it). The designs are larger of course and the colours very bright and fresh. I will send this to your apartment in case you have made it there. Marcel will take it to you otherwise. I was so glad to talk to him and have my anxiety relieved somewhat after I sent my first note. Do take very good care of yourself and obey all laws and rules, no matter how tiresome! affectionately yours, Joyce [In top left-hand corner, JM has added:] Your card is also very lovely!



[letter transcribed from dictation]

March 8, 1980 105 Isabella #304 Toronto, Ontario

Madame Mcarbotte Apt. 302, 135 Grande Allee West Quebec, Quebec.381 Dear Gabrielle, Joan called your school and found out the new address.382 It is 14 Pembroke Street, Toronto M5A 2N7. The woman was very distressed to hear that the book you sent had been returned to you and sends you her very best regards. I am dictating this note, among others, onto a tape recorder. I am not used to doing letters this way so I will not write very much today. It was so nice to talk to you the other night. I hope you will get over all the various troubles that make it so difficult for you. But I am very happy to hear that you are writing still, despite everything.



affectionately, Joyce

381 Errors in address are the typist’s. 382 A French-language school in Toronto named after GR.

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20 March 1980

[letter transcribed from dictation]

105 Isabella, #304 Toronto Ontario March 20, 1980

Dear Gabrielle, I thought you might like to see what Jack is up to.383 It may give some idea why he doesn’t have time to write letters. I hope you got my letter a while ago giving the new address of your school. As you may notice, I am still dictating. My eye got better, and then there was a sort of relapse. I think the lens may have been put in too soon. I am going to be seeing the doctor the day after tomorrow and hope for better things this time.

 [on CBC letterhead]

affectionately, Joyce

[Toronto,] April 11, 1980

Dear Gabrielle, Early yesterday afternoon I sent you copies of all three stories. The place was jammed with students, as I expected it to be at this season, so I thought I might as well get all the waiting over at once rather than come back again and wait next week. It’s the best place in town – cheap too, probably because they do so much work. I’ve sent the stories in two packages as they made rather too tight a fit for one envelope and the corners might have broken. I sent ‘The Telephone’ special delivery, the rest ordinary first class mail. It will be interesting to see what difference this makes.

383 ‘I was obviously referring to one of Jack [McClelland]’s publicity capers.’ (JM, letter to Jane Everett, 31 August 2001.) This may be a reference to a stunt intended to publicize the launch of The Emperor’s Virgin, a novel by Sylvia Fraser (b. 1935). One day in March 1980, McClelland and Fraser, dressed in (approximately) Roman attire and accompanied by two ‘centurions’ and a horse-drawn chariot, visited a number of bookstores on Toronto’s Bloor Street. A late-winter snowstorm impeded their efforts (see James King, Jack. A Life: The Story of Jack McClelland [Toronto: Alfred A. Knopf Canada, 1999], 343–5).

15 April 1980

227

It will be nice if Reader’s Digest uses ‘The Telephone.’ I’m interested, of course, in getting what it is possible to get for the work – quite apart from the fact that I think the stories deserve to be in print. Having ‘The Satellites’ in Tamarack was good, of course, but my remuneration from them was small. I enclose a receipt as requested. I’ve itemized it to make it look very official! It was pleasant to talk to you. All my best wishes, affectionately, Joyce Unfortunately I keep forgetting to buy some new white paper and am reduced to these sheets which were given to me to use as scratch paper when the CBC changed its letterhead.



Québec, April 15, 1980 Dear Joyce, Thank you so much for having so promptly sent me the photocopies. I received ‘The Telephone’ Friday night – isn’t [that] extraordinary! – and the other two stories yesterday afternoon. I’m sorry I put you up to all that trouble. Do not forget to send me a memo, so that I can repay you, of the expenses incurred: photo copying, taxi, mail. I still don’t understand how I can have mislaid384 the previous copy of the three stories which I saw at their usual place just a month or so ago. I had someone tidying up in my room lately, and the enveloppe must have been gathered with papers to throw away. Anyhow thanks to you matters are now straightened up. Thank you again ever so much. My hands are somewhat better. I can at least write a few letters now and then. My asthma is also improved with the inhalation four times a day of a form of synthetic cortisone, which is supposed to have very few side effects. But I can go on feeling weak, easily tired, and seem to find no will nor desire to do anything. Of all the ills I have suffered this 384 GR: misled

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15 April 1980

sort of apathy seems the worst to me. I hope that I shall gather enough strength to pick up my things and remove myself to Petite Rivière where I may feel better, although now, with the sadness the expropriation of my neighbors’ property left them all,385 Petite is far from being what it was. What is ailing people, Joyce? They seem so bereft of joy, of pride, even of the desire to live, it seems. I’m still hopeful that we will defeat that odious referendum,386 but it is so painful, if you only knew, to live in Québec these days. We are face to face, thousands, once friends, once brothers, suddenly become enemies. All that is needed after all, is a little tolerance and love of one another. We have, so much, so very much to be thankful for, and here we are wailing like the most miserable beings on earth. It is a great sin to make so much noise about slight injuries when suffering, real suffering cries in agony at every corner of the world. I would love to see you some day. I often remember with pleasure your visit – so long ago – to Petite Rivière and how you camped in that poor little cabin, pleased with everything, such a good companion. I never go by the little ‘presbytère’ without remembering pleasant memories of that summer. Good luck to you, my dear. I hope that year at Trent will be agreeable and enriching to you.387 I am sure that it will be so for the students. With affectionate thoughts. Gabrielle Are your eyes quite all right now. I so very much hope so. [In top right-hand corner, GR has added:] Going over ‘The Telephone’ quietly before sending it to Reader’s Digest I was again struck by the wonderful quality of your translation, so smooth, so alive. Thanks again



G.

385 That is, ‘left them all feeling.’ The land was expropriated for development purposes. 386 The referendum on Quebec sovereignty was to be held on 20 May 1980. Quebeckers voted 40 per cent in favour of the sovereignty option. 387 Trent University in Peterborough, Ontario, where JM was writer-in-residence for the 1980–1 academic year.

13 May 1980

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Québec, le 8 mai 1980 Dear Joyce, Herewith a cheque to cover part of the expenses incurred on my behalf. I hope you have heard already or will soon hear from Denise Surprenant of Reader’s Digest. If not, let me know. We are regaining a little hope here, these days, concerning the referendum, but it is still too early to rejoice. My hand has improved some, but my arm and shoulders remain very stiff. If possible, I shall try to leave for Petite sometime at the end of May or beginning of June. Hope you are well and cheerful Affectionately yours Gabrielle Have your eyes improved? I very much hope so.



[Toronto,] May 13, 1980 Dear Gabrielle, Many thanks for two letters and for the cheque. (You didn’t need to send me so much, you know.) I received the cheque from Denise Surprenant of Reader’s Digest but the post office didn’t do as well by me as it did by you; though the letter was sent Special Delivery, it arrived with the ordinary mail. Not serious, of course, as I wasn’t awaiting it particularly. I hope you are right that the tide is turning in favour of a No vote. I am finding this whole period most difficult and disturbing. Lévesque is playing very dirty politics at the moment, I feel, and quite blatantly trying to polarize the French- and English-speakers in the province. His remark that Trudeau388 is favouring the ‘English’ side of his nature isn’t particularly appealing either. I cannot understand why so many ‘liberals’ (elsewhere in the country) consider him a man of the highest principles. I have always considered him thoroughly unprincipled and

388 Pierre Elliott Trudeau (1919–2000), at the time, Canada’s prime minister.

230

18 September 1980

still do. Anyway, it will soon be over and I do hope the ‘No’ side will win and by a real majority not a percentage point or two. I was glad to see that your hands seem a little better. I know that the pain from arthritis is quite awful. I have a tiny bit of it (sporadic) in my left foot (the result of spraining it several times) and I just hope it will not get worse. But at least I don’t write with my foot! I hope you will feel better when you get back to Petite. I often think of my stay in the presbytère and of making a (semi)-permanent path on my way over to you. That was such a happy time! I went up to Trent ten days or so ago and met the people there (some of them at least). I think I will enjoy it very much. It was nice to talk to you recently and have two letters. I always miss you when we aren’t in touch. affectionately, Joyce My eye is fine for the moment.

[on CBC letterhead]

 Catharine Parr Traill College Trent University, Peterborough, Ont. Sept. 18, 1980

Dear Gabrielle, I thought I’d write to you today in case there’s a chance of your getting this letter before there’s a real strike, so that you’d at least have my new address (Traill College, as on the envelope, is quite sufficient) and phone number: 705-***-0515. I’ve been settled in here since the beginning of the month. The apartment is quite pleasant though with a skimpy kitchen, which doesn’t much matter as I get all my meals (except breakfast) ‘in college’. I could have breakfast in the dining-room too but it seems better just to have a bite here; I like to make a slow rather silent start! I haven’t done much yet except be in readiness; the young people are just getting their courses and timetables settled. This is an interesting

30 September 1980

231

university, run rather on the English ‘college’ system with tutors etc. I think I will like it here especially as the town itself and the surrounding countryside are most attractive. Did you hear from the young man Don McNeil of CBC? I gave him your city and country addresses – but not the phone number at Petite. He seemed not to know anything about French spelling and kept asking me again and again how to spell Grande. I was surprised a little that they were so anxious suddenly for you to see the program.389 However, he is an exceedingly pleasant young man. I hope you have had a good and restful summer and are feeling well. I’m always a bit concerned when I don’t hear from you. Also, I miss you. Things were a bit hectic for me or I would have dropped you a line. I was working very hard and then moving out of Isabella Street – deciding what to store and what to bring – proved very fussing and even traumatic. In fact, I’ve dreamed about moving almost every night since I’ve been here. If we don’t have another strike, do drop me a line some time. I’m anxious to hear how you are.



All affectionate wishes, Joyce

Québec, September 30, 1980 Dear Joyce, At last, news from you and your new address! Thanks for having thought of sending it to me so soon, in the midst, so to speak, of your moving. As a matter of fact I was anxious to hear of your first reactions. I feel that you will probably be quite happy of the change and to live with young people. I think I tried to reach you by phone once or twice during the summer, not catching you at home. For me the summer was strange, partly beneficial, specially at the beginning, and then turning quite badly as it ended in another attack of my respiratory troubles, although not quite as serious as the summers before. Still it takes a lot of my strength away and it is difficult to hang on and not give up to discouragement. In the early summer, I 389 The CBC Television special program The Garden and the Cage (see note 329).

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4 November 1980

managed to pick up my work and carry on for several weeks. It was a blessing but did not last as I would have wished. Then returning to the city, I picked up this mean case of head cold which is spreading these days and am just getting over it, very slowly. I am fed-up with my stories of troubles everlastingly390 the same and promise myself that I will not breathe a word about them anymore. But these troubles do command attention and become foremost in one’s mind, whether you like it or not. I do hope, my dear Joyce, that you will be free for a long time to come of such ailments and that you will greatly enjoy your year at Traill College. If you come across Margaret Laurence, as I suppose you will, tell her how often I think of her, always very fondly. Do let me hear about you again.



Affectionately yours Gabrielle

[Peterborough,] November 4, 1980 Dear Gabrielle, It was nice to hear from you but I was sorry to hear that you have not been too well again. I hope your cold is better and that you are having a good fall. I am enjoying being here and living among young people. I wish sometimes, however, that they would laugh a little more frequently. Were we like that too, I wonder. I suppose we were. I’ve found a few interesting writers and one, I do believe, really talented poet [...].391 Peterborough is a pleasant town with most things that one wants within easy walking distance. Also a few hills to climb. I very much like hills though the hillocks here do not compare with the long steep hills of Montreal. And if one doesn’t want to climb them one can walk around them – as I may find myself doing in the winter. Best of all, the air is very clean and clear and, I think, healthy. I expect to have a good

390 GR: everlastingtly 391 The poet, novelist, and peace activist Maggie Helwig (b. 1961).

4 November 1980

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year here. The leaves have been very beautiful – much brighter than in Toronto – but they are most of them down now, of course. I see that the new translation of The Tin Flute is out though I haven’t yet come across any reviews.392 I see also that it is a rather expensive book so I suppose most libraries etc will continue to use the old one. You must be very glad and relieved to have this matter settled so that you can turn your mind and attention to the future. It must have been a very strange experience to be working so closely again with words you wrote so long ago. I must go out now for my early afternoon walk but wanted to get these few lines written so I can mail them when I go out.



affectionately, Joyce

[The correspondence between Joyce Marshall and Gabrielle Roy, whose health was becoming more and more fragile, ends here. They kept in touch by telephone, however, their ‘friendly exchanges’393 ceasing only with Roy’s death, on 13 July 1983.]

392 McClelland and Stewart had just published Alan Brown’s translation of Bonheur d’occasion. 393 See GR–JM, 20 September 1974.

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Appendices



A number of footnotes in the Letters section of this book refer readers to an appendix. The purpose of the five appendices is to provide readers with the context necessary for understanding references made by Joyce Marshall and Gabrielle Roy to the manuscripts on which they were working. These references most often concern isolated words or phrases, occasionally entire sentences. For each one, I have provided a grammatically complete fragment of the passage to which Roy and Marshall were referring. Where possible (and pertinent), these fragments were taken from the typescripts that the two women were using (each would have her own copy); for comparison purposes, I have usually included the corresponding passage from the first published edition of the text (either the French or the English version, or both). Where no manuscript version of the text exists, the excerpts were taken from the first published edition. Each appendix deals with a different work, starting with Marshall’s first translation for Roy (‘Grandmother and the Doll,’) in 1960. The second appendix concerns changes Roy was making to the manuscript of La rivière sans repos while Marshall was translating it in 1969–70. This translation (Windflower) is the focus of appendix C. Marshall’s revisions in 1973 to The Hidden Mountain, Harry Lorin Binsse’s 1962 translation of La montagne secrète, are discussed in appendix D. Finally, appendix E deals with Enchanted Summer, the 1976 translation of Cet été qui chantait. Each appendix begins with a paragraph briefly describing the context in which the words, phrases, or sentences were being discussed, and identifying the source material, whether archival or published,1 from which the excerpts

1 Complete bibliographic references are given for all archival and published material.

236 Appendices were taken. The excerpts themselves follow, grouped according to the letter with which they are associated; each letter is identified by the initials of its author and the date on which it was written, enclosed in square brackets. The words, phrases, or sentences mentioned in each letter are in bold type. Each bold word, phrase, or sentence is followed by the sentence or passage in which it occurs, excerpted from the typescript or published versions of the text under discussion. Each excerpt from a typescript is followed by a reference in square brackets to the box and folder in which the document is stored, and to the page number of the document itself. For instance, [52 (4), 158] refers to page 158 of the document found in box 52, folder 4, of the Roy fonds. Each excerpt from a published text is followed by the page number enclosed in parentheses. Because of their length and their relative ‘opacity,’ the lists accompanying three of the letters were not printed in the Letters section; however, excerpts from these lists that relate to changes discussed in the letters or that provide a glimpse of the writing and translation process have been reproduced in the appendices (see appendices B, C, and D). These excerpts are presented in bold type and in their original order; excerpts from the corresponding typescripts and published texts, printed in regular type, have been inserted after each list excerpt.

Appendix A

237

appendix a: ‘GRANDMOTHER AND THE DOLL’ In 1960, Joyce Marshall was translating Gabrielle Roy’s ‘Grand-mère et la poupée’ for publication in Chatelaine. The following excerpts are taken from ‘Grand-mère et la poupée,’ Châtelaine, October 1960, 25, 44–6, 48–9, for the French original, and from ‘Grandmother and the Doll,’ Chatelaine, October 1960, 44–5, 82–6, for the English translation.2 The references are given in the order they appear in the letters; their format is explained in the introduction to the appendices.



[GR–JM, 11 July 1960] ‘mis du bois dans les roues’ – Car, dit-elle, après un moment de réflexion, avec ce qu’il m’a donné de moyens et mis de bois dans les roues, j’ai quand même pas mal aidé sa création. (48) ‘For with such means and strength as He gave me,’ she said after a moment’s reflection, ‘I have aided Him not too badly in His creation.’ (86) ‘waved it with her curling-iron warmed over the lamp’ Ainsi fut fait. Grand-mère, après avoir assemblé une belle perruque de cheveux jaunes, la frisa en ondulations à son fer chauffé au-dessus de la lampe et ensuite en couvrit la tête de ma catin. (46) This I proceeded to do. Grandmother then put together a lovely wig of yellow hair, waved it with her curling iron warmed over the lamp, and fitted it over my doll’s head. (85) ‘happiness that was too piercing ... etc.’ Mais moi, oubliant combien elle se plaisait peu aux épanchements, aux caresses, je grimpai sur ses genoux, je lui jetai mes bras autour du cou, je sanglotai d’un bonheur aigu, trop ample, presque incroyable. (48) But, forgetting how little she cared for effusiveness or caresses, I climbed onto her knees, flung my arms around her neck and sobbed with a happiness that was too piercing and wide to bear, almost incredible. (86)

2 There appear to be no surviving manuscripts or typescripts of either version.

238 Appendices It might be preferable to state here that François is dead – Ton grand-père François, le premier, qui m’a fait le coup de partir le premier, sans m’attendre, le bel aventurier, me laissant seule en exil sur ces terres de l’Ouest. (49) ‘Your Grandfather François ... such a trick to play on me, the gay adventurer ... to go first – first, mind you, without waiting for me, leaving me alone on this western prairie in exile.’ (86)



[GR–JM, 12 July 1960] ‘And God too – for He too in many ways, has forgotten me’ – [...] Et Dieu aussi! Parce que vraiment, dit-elle, il laisse faire trop de choses étranges qui nous tracassent, quoi qu’en disent les prêtres qui, eux, comme de bon sens, lui donnent raison. (49) ‘And God too – even He in many ways has forgotten me. Because truly, no matter what the priests say, no matter how hard they try to make reason and sense out of it, He allows too many strange worrisome things to happen to us.’ (86)

Appendix B

239

appendix b: LA RIVIÈRE SANS REPOS In late August 1969, Gabrielle Roy sent Joyce Marshall a list of changes she had recently made to La rivière sans repos (a volume comprising a novel with the same title preceded by three short stories: ‘Les satellites,’ ‘Le téléphone,’ and ‘Le fauteuil roulant’), which Marshall was in the process of translating,3 a project first mentioned in GR–JM, 13 October 1968. A number of excerpts from this list are reproduced here. The references are given in the order they appear in the list; their visual presentation approximates that of the original. The corresponding manuscript excerpts are taken from Library and Archives Canada, fonds Gabrielle Roy, MSS 1982–11/1986–11: 49 (7–11), a typescript of the French version of La rivière sans repos (including the three short stories), whose pagination corresponds to the page numbers given in Roy’s list. The abbreviations F and R refer to ‘Le fauteuil roulant’ and La rivière sans repos respectively. Following the manuscript excerpts, I have included the corresponding passages from the first French edition (La rivière sans repos [Montreal: Beauchemin, 1970], 315p.) for purposes of comparison. The format of the references is explained in the introduction to the appendices.



[GR–JM, late August 1969] Dear Joyce, The following sentence is to insert page 1984 after the break, immediately after the sentence starting: ‘Ils étaient sur le chemin du retour ...’ ending ‘à peine conscience.’ ‘La décision de revenir avait été prise la nuit où sur le dôme de l’iglou s’était projetée l’ombre bouleversante.’ Ils étaient sur le chemin du retour vers Fort-Chimo depuis assez longtemps, mais Jimmy, de plus en plus fiévreux, en avait à peine conscience. Maintenant 3 Marshall had to throw out sixty pages of her translation because of the changes Roy made to the French version (Joyce Marshall, telephone conversation with Jane Everett, 29 September 2001). McClelland and Stewart chose in the end to publish Windflower, JM’s translation of the novel, on its own (see GR–JM, 29 January 1970). Her translation of ‘Les satellites’ (‘The Satellites’) appeared in the Tamarack Review in the spring of 1978; to date, her translations of ‘Le téléphone’ (‘The Telephone’) and ‘Le fauteuil roulant’ (‘The Wheelchair’) have not been published, although Reader’s Digest did publish a condensed version of JM’s translation of ‘The Telephone’ in its July 1980 issue (see JM–GR, 11 April 1980, GR–JM, 15 April 1980, and JM–GR, 13 May 1980). 4 The page number is underlined twice in the original. JM was opposed to this explanatory sentence being inserted (see JM–GR, 30 August 1969 and GR–JM, 4 September 1969); in the end, GR agreed with her, as can be seen from the published excerpt.

240 Appendices ils n’avaient plus le temps de s’arrêter, de se reposer, d’être ensemble, à l’abri, en une petite maison fabriquée par l’oncle Ian. [R: 49 (10), 198] Ils étaient sur le chemin du retour vers Fort-Chimo depuis assez longtemps, mais Jimmy, de plus en plus fiévreux, en avait à peine conscience. Maintenant ils n’avaient plus le temps de s’arrêter, de se reposer, d’être ensemble, à l’abri, en une petite maison fabriquée par l’oncle Ian. (242; unchanged) A few more corrections [...] page 67 4th line, ‘à cause de la pose? les mains ridées à plat sur les accoudoirs’ À présent, à cause de la pose? les deux vieilles mains ridées posées sur les accoudoirs, la tête se tenant raide, Isaac prit l’air d’un vieux roi encore régnant. [F: 49 (8), 67] À présent, à cause de la pose, les mains ridées à plat sur les accoudoirs, la tête se tenant raide, Isaac prit l’air d’un vieux roi encore régnant. (96) [...] page 835 7th line from top ...‘plus elle se heurte à des conditions adverses, et plus elle force à la multiplication.’ En revanche, ils poussaient dru à s’étouffer, menés eux aussi par l’inexorable loi de la nature qui, plus les conditions sont adverses, plus elle pousse à la multiplication. [R: 49 (9), 83] En revanche, ils poussaient dru à s’étouffer, menés eux aussi par l’inexorable loi de la nature qui, plus elle se heurte à des conditions adverses, et plus elle force à la multiplication. (118) [...] page 209,6 2ndth line from top, strike off: ‘sort la tête par un trou dans la glace ...’ Pour les animaux, Elsa avait demandé conseil à Thaddeus; elle l’avait longue-

5 This modification is not discussed in any of GR’s letters. It has been included here because it is a good example of the type of stylistic changes GR was making to La rivière sans repos at the same time as JM was translating it. JM made changes to her translation of the same passage (see appendix C). 6 This passage is also mentioned in JM–GR, 30 August 1969 and 17 February 1970 (see appendix C), and in GR–JM, 19 February 1970. It is another good example of the type of stylistic change GR was making to La rivière sans repos at the same time as JM was translating it.

Appendix B

241

ment écouté lui parler de l’attitude de l’ours, quand il médite sur un projet, tout alors révélant chez l’animal une sorte de réflexion; ou encore de la grâce avec laquelle le jeune phoque, par un jour de printemps ensoleillé, sort la tête par un trou dans la glace et regarde pour la première fois de sa vie le monde environnant. [R: 49 (6), 209]7 Pour les animaux, Elsa avait demandé conseil à Thaddeus; elle l’avait longuement écouté lui parler de l’attitude de l’ours, quand il médite sur un projet, tout alors révélant chez l’animal une sorte de réflexion; ou encore de la grâce avec laquelle le jeune phoque, par un jour de printemps ensoleillé, de sa banquise regarde tout autour et pour la première fois le monde. (256) [...]

7 Because page 209 in the manuscript of reference (49 [7–11]) for this appendix does not contain the phrase under discussion and appears, moreover, to have been retyped, I have given here an excerpt from the corresponding passage in the manuscript version preceding that contained in 49 (7–11).

242 Appendices

appendix c: WINDFLOWER The excerpts in this appendix concern changes Joyce Marshall made to the manuscript of Windflower, her translation of the novel La rivière sans repos. The manuscript excerpts are taken from the Library and Archives Canada, fonds Gabrielle Roy, MSS 1982-11/1986-11: 52 (3–5), a typescript of the translation sent to Roy by Marshall and whose pagination corresponds to the page numbers given in the letters quoted below. The first set of changes are from a list that accompanied JM–GR, 17 February 1970; their visual presentation approximates that of the original. The second set of changes are mentioned in a letter written two months later (JM–GR, 28 April 1970). The references are given in the order they appear in the list and the letter. When two or more occur in the same paragraph, they have been grouped together. For purposes of comparison, I have followed the manuscript excerpts with the corresponding passages from the first edition of Windflower (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1970), 152p., and from the first edition of La rivière sans repos (Montreal: Beauchemin, 1970), 315p. As noted in the introduction to appendix B, only the translated novel was published in 1970; this explains the discrepancies in pagination between the French and the English editions. The format of the following references is explained in the introduction to the appendices.

[JM–GR, 17 February 1970]



[...] 1698 – 2nd paragraph, 2nd sentence – ‘The dogs gave tongue on a note that seemed to express exhilaration at leaving everyday life behind in response to a summons from the unknown.’ The dogs gave tongue on a note that seemed to express exhilaration at leaving routine behind in order to face the unknown. [52 (4), 169] The dogs gave tongue on a note that seemed to express exhilaration at leaving everyday existence behind in response to a summons from the unknown. (91)

8 This passage is also mentioned in GR–JM, 19 February 1970.

Appendix C 243 Les chiens donnaient de la voix sur un ton qui semblait exprimer de l’allégresse à quitter le quotidien pour répondre au long appel du lointain. (235) [...] 1849 – 6th line from bottom – ‘the grace of the young seal on the ice-floe when on a sunny day in spring it looks for the first time at the world around.’ For the animals she had asked advice from Thaddeus and listened for a long time as he spoke of the attitude of a bear as it considers a scheme, its whole body revealing a sort of cogitation, or the grace of the young seal when on a sunny day in spring it looks for the first time in his life at the world around. [52 (5), 184] For the animals she had asked advice from Thaddeus and listened for a long time as he spoke of the attitude of a bear as it considers a scheme, its whole body revealing a sort of cogitation, or the grace of the young seal on the ice-floe when on a sunny day in spring it looks for the first time at the world around. (105) Pour les animaux, Elsa avait demandé conseil à Thaddeus; elle l’avait longuement écouté lui parler de l’attitude de l’ours, quand il médite sur un projet, tout alors révélant chez l’animal une sorte de réflexion; ou encore de la grâce avec laquelle le jeune phoque, par un jour de printemps ensoleillé, de sa banquise regarde tout autour et pour la première fois le monde. (256) [...] 22110 – 11th line – I took the liberty of deleting ‘last private’ (now reads ‘since their encounter beside the Koksoak’). I could not believe that Paterson would not have made some sort of ‘parochial call’ after Jimmy’s departure. This leaves the matter open, at least. He received her in his little study, which still held faint memories of a student’s room in Edinburgh. How much water had flowed by since their last private encounter beside the Koksoak! [52 (5), 221]

9 This passage is also mentioned in JM–GR, 30 August 1969 and in GR–JM, 19 February 1970; see also appendix B. 10 This modification, which is not discussed in any of the letters, has been included because it is an interesting example of the sort of ‘conversation’ that occurs from time to time in the lists (and in the margins of the typescripts).

244 Appendices He received her in his little study, which still held faint memories of a student’s room in Cambridge. How much water had flowed by since their encounter beside the Koksoak! (138) Il la reçut dans son petit ‘study’ où parvenait encore le lointain souvenir d’une chambre d’étudiant, à Cambridge. Que d’eau avait coulé depuis leur dernière rencontre à tous deux sur la rive de la Koksoak! (297) [...] 23511 – 6th line – our problem child – I have sent it in as ‘suggested a youth become cynical and twisted’, which is pretty good, I think. We could also say ‘cynical and emotionally wounded’. I do not like the psychological jargon such as ‘disturbed’ etc. I made a list from Roget etc. Here it is: alienated distraught neurotic unstable erratic rootless disorientated From that point they become more and more absurd. But if you don’t like ‘twisted’, what about ‘rootless’ or something else in that area? Father Eugene shook his head. To him the boasting in the sky had suggested a youth become cynical and warped. [52 (5), 235] Father Eugene shook his head. To him the boasting in the sky had suggested a youth become cynical and twisted. (149) Le Père Eugène hochait la tête. À lui, cette fanfaronnade dans le ciel avait donné l’impression d’une jeunesse devenue tôt cynique et désaxée. (312) Gabrielle dear, I trust this will all be clear. I have a few other passages I want to mull over (besides the baby seal etc). I think I should put the ms by for a

11 JM is referring to the adjective ‘désaxée.’ It had been the subject of some discussion when the two women met in Toronto in late October 1969 to work on the translation. GR first mentions it in an undated note written shortly thereafter and refers to it again in GR–JM, 19 February 1970.

Appendix C 245 few days and then give it another close reading in preparation for the galleys. Of course, I know things will emerge when I finally see it all lying there perfectly clear. I’ll let you know what I hear about the title. I was much encouraged by someone liking Windflower besides us.



[JM–GR, 28 April 1970] ‘criaillerie’ When he was away from the endless scolding, teasing and pampering of the Eskimo village, there appeared in Jimmy another more gentle and dreamy child. [52 (3), 116] When he was away from the endless commotion, teasing, and pampering of the Eskimo village, there appeared in Jimmy another more gentle and dreamy child. (40) Soustrait aux criailleries, agacements et gâteries sans fin du village esquimau, apparaissait ici en Jimmy un autre enfant, plus doux et rêveur. (167) ‘... the old hangar abandoned by the air charter company, with its ...’ Near the white man’s village, it was true, there was the old hangar of the Wheeler company with its broken roof, but two fierce dogs had just been posted there. [52 (3), 78] Over towards the white men’s village, it was true, there was the old hangar abandoned by the air charter company, with its tumbledown roof, but two fierce dogs had just been posted there. (1) Il y avait bien, du côté du village des Blancs, l’ancien hangar au toit défoncé de la Société Wheeler, mais l’on venait tout juste d’y poster deux chiens féroces. (117) ‘So the pure ... favourable to love. Except, in a pinch, ...’ So the pure terrible country, which lies open from one end to the other, had so to speak neither time nor place favourable to love. Except perhaps, at a pinch, the faint dip in the ground midway between the army barracks and the Eskimo village [...]. [52 (3), 78–9] So the pure terrible country, which lies open from one end to the other had, you might say, neither time nor place favourable to love. Except, in a pinch, the faint dip in the ground midway between the army barracks and the Eskimo village [...]. (2) Ainsi le terrible pays pur, à découvert d’un bout à l’autre, n’avait pour ainsi dire ni d’heure ni d’endroit propices à l’amour.

246 Appendices Hors, peut-être, à la rigueur, ce faible creux de terrain à mi-chemin entre les baraquements de l’Armée et le village esquimau [...]. (118) ‘On the other hand, they grew stiflingly close, they too driven by that inexorable law of nature: the more hostile the conditions, the fiercer the struggle to multiply.’ On the other hand, they grew stiflingly close, they too driven by that inexorable law of nature that, the more obstacles it strikes, the more it strains towards multiplication. [52 (3), 79] On the other hand, they grew stiflingly close, they too driven by that inexorable law of nature: the more hostile the conditions, the fiercer the struggle to multiply. (2) En revanche, ils poussaient dru à s’étouffer, menés eux aussi par l’inexorable loi de la nature qui, plus elle se heurte à des conditions adverses, et plus elle force à la multiplication. (118)

Appendix D 247

appendix d: THE HIDDEN MOUNTAIN During the summer and autumn of 1973, Joyce Marshall was working on modifications to The Hidden Mountain, Harry Lorin Binsse’s 1962 translation of La montagne secrète, which McClelland and Stewart was preparing to reissue in its New Canadian Library series. Only minor improvements to the translation were possible, as the type for the new edition was not being reset in its entirety. The following excerpts are taken from the original English translation (The Hidden Mountain [Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1962], 186p.); from the New Canadian Library edition of the English translation, revised by Joyce Marshall (The Hidden Mountain [Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1974], 186p.); and from La montagne secrète ([Montreal: Beauchemin, 1961], 222p.). The first two letters refer to a list of possible changes Gabrielle Roy sent to Joyce Marshall in a letter dated 7 August 1973; the last letter (GR–JM, 22 August 1973) refers to a list of proposed changes that Marshall sent to Roy in a letter dated 18 August 1973 and that Roy had annotated and was returning to her. The references are given in the order they appear in the letters; their format is explained in the introduction to the appendices. The lists themselves have not been reproduced here.



[JM–GR, 10 August 1973]12 ‘eager to jeer’ And it occurred to him that those summonses to his soul, to which he had so often given heed, had perhaps never been more than foes, eager to jeer at all he did. (1962, 68) And it occurred to him that those summonses to his soul, to which he had so often given heed, had perhaps never been more than foes, waiting to jeer at all his strivings. (1974, 68) Il lui apparut que n’avaient peut-être jamais été que des ennemis, appliqués à le railler, ces appels d’âme qu’il avait tant de fois reçus. (85) ‘boueux’13 Striding along, he would ask the housewives on their way to get their milk or else the denizens of the gutter, ‘The Louvre?’ [...]. (1962, 127)

12 See also GR–JM, 13 August 1973, and JM–GR, 13 August 1973. 13 See also GR–JM, 13 August 1973.

248 Appendices Striding along, he would ask the housewives on their way to get their milk or the men gathering the refuse, ‘The Louvre?’ [...]. (1974, 127) Marchant droit devant lui, aux ménagères qui allaient chercher leur lait, aux boueux, il demandait: le Louvre? [...]. (153)



[JM–GR, 13 August 1973] ‘the water rejoiced him’ Pierre, meanwhile, remained downcast and not at all proud of himself. Water, which had so greatly rejoiced him one spring night, water, which he endlessly probed and watched, water cool and clear and happy, was to him a reproach. (1962, 62) Pierre, meanwhile, remained downcast and not at all proud of himself. Water, which had so greatly rejoiced his being one spring night, water, which he endlessly probed and watched, water cool and clear and happy, was to him a reproach. (1974, 62) Pierre, ces jours-là, restait attristé et peu fier de lui-même. L’eau qui tant l’avait réjoui une nuit de printemps, l’eau qu’il ne cessait de sonder, d’épier, l’eau fraîche et limpide et heureuse lui était un reproche. (78) [...] ‘One day there had even traversed this woodland a man utterly beyond his appraisal.’ One day there had even traversed this woodland a man utterly beyond his appraisal. (1962, 3; 1974, 3; unchanged) Dans ces bois était même passé un jour un homme inconnu. (11–12) [...]



[GR–JM, 22 August 1973] ‘In a vast and lonely expanse he alone was to be seen.’ The haze cleared in front of Pierre. In a vast and lonely expanse he alone was to be seen. And although he was torn by regret for his links with other men, his soul seemed to find rest here, as though close to this world’s wild heart. (1962, 64; 1974, 64; unchanged) La brume se disloqua devant Pierre. En une immense et solitaire région il parut. Et, quoiqu’il fût brisé du regret de ses liens humains, son âme lui sembla ici se reposer comme auprès du coeur sauvage de ce monde. (81)

Appendix E

249

appendix e: ENCHANTED SUMMER In the early spring of 1974, Joyce Marshall started work on Enchanted Summer, her translation of Gabrielle Roy’s Cet été qui chantait, for which she would be awarded the 1976 Canada Council Translation Prize14 for French-to-English translation. The following excerpts are taken from the Eastern Townships Research Centre, Joyce Marshall fonds, PO47/013/001a; the first edition of Cet été qui chantait (Montreal: Éditions françaises, 1972), 207p.; and Enchanted Summer (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1976), 125p. The format of the following references is explained in the introduction to the appendices.



[List enclosed with JM–GR, 24 September 1975]15 1. Laitue panachee 2. Cerises de France 3. Loches – M.Z. once assured me that these were sea-smelt. Is that right, do you know? 4. bouleau a sabot de cheval – Trees of Canada offers no hint as to what this might be. If you don’t happen to know the English term, could you by chance find the Latin designation? I could then cross-check in Trees of Canada which (unlike Birds of Canada) does not give French common names. 5. sur les planches – Is this a local expression or just peculiar to the child in question. Obviously it means ‘laid out’. At any rate, we’ll get around it somehow. 6. bougrine 7. Frappe-a-bords



[List enclosed with GR–JM, 28 September 1975] The following references are given in the order they appear in the list. When two or more terms occur in the same paragraph of the text, they have been grouped together. 1. laitue panachée – a leaf lettuce, motley, in two colors, green and a reddish tint on the leaves, hence sometimes called laitue rubis and perhaps in English, I wonder, ruby lettuce. Anyhow if there is too much difficulty in 14 Now the Governor General’s Award for Translation. 15 This is a carbon copy; the original has not been found. JM noted the terms while preparing the first draft of her translation.

250 Appendices finding the appropriate expression, any particularly delectable lettuce – or even green – will do. Is there a russet lettuce? 2. cerises de France, probably a bigaroon – but I think sweet cherries will do very well as this type is particularly so. Sans doute il chapardait ailleurs. Un peu à droite, un peu à gauche, de manière à ce que cela ne se voie pas trop dans aucun jardin: par exemple une feuille de laitue panachée chez Lucienne, ma troisième voisine – et comment une corneille n’apprécierait-elle pas cette savoureuse laitue que nous, d’alentour, n’arrêtons pas de lui quémander; peut-être quelques cerises de France bien juteuses chez Berthe [...]. (‘Jeannot-la-Corneille,’ 42 ) I daresay he pilfered elsewhere. A bit to the right, a bit to the left, so that it was not too apparent in any one garden: for instance, a leaf of red lettuce from Lucienne, my third neighbour – and how could a crow fail to appreciate the tasty lettuce that we were all constantly begging for ourselves?; perhaps a few sweet juicy cherries from Berthe [...]. (‘Jeannot the Crow,’ 25) 4. bouleau à sabot de cheval: that is my own description of an individual white birch of mine whose foot, thick and somewhat shaped like a horse’s foot, suggested a hoove. Il a sa cachette aussi, mais il ne faut pas le dire: c’est juste au-dessous de la troisième branche à partir du pied de l’immense épinette vert sombre à côté du bouleau à sabot de cheval. (‘Les visiteurs de la journée,’ 166) He has his hiding place too but you mustn’t tell; it’s just below the third branch from the bottom of the huge dark-green spruce next to my twisted birch. (‘The Day’s Visitors,’ 103) 5. ‘Sur les planches’ does indeed mean ‘laid out’ – on planks or rough boards, in lieu, or instead of in a coffin. – Elle est sur les planches, dit un petit garçon aux yeux de braise. Ils vont l’enterrer demain pour de bon. (‘L’enfant morte,’ 181) ‘She’s already laid out,’ said a boy with eyes like coals. ‘They’re going to bury her for good tomorrow.’ (‘The Dead Child,’ 113) 6 bougrine: a rough, usually woollen working jacket. I can’t find the origin. Somewhat of the type of the lumberjack jacket. A raggy sort of clothing, quite often. Il avançait, vêtu de sa bougrine à carreaux, en bottes de bûcheron, au bec sa pipe pansue, sur l’épaule sa grande faux, cependant que de la poche arrière de son pantalon dépassait la pierre à aiguiser. (‘Les frères-arbres,’ 109) He approached, wearing his checked bush shirt and lumberman’s boots, his

Appendix E

251

wide-bowled pipe in his mouth, his big scythe over his shoulder and a whetstone protruding from the back pocket of his trousers. (‘The Tree Brothers,’ 66) 7 frappe à bord: a vicious stinger, alights and bites without giving notice. Hence the superb picture of the French canadian name. It’s a black fly with gold somewhere on its wings, I think. Of the family of the oestrus spe.16 Some dictionnaries mention the botfly or gad-fly. Friends at the university spoke of la mouche à merde, therefore the shit-fly. A much hated insect. Could we figuratively go as far as call it a sting-on-the-sly. Some also call it cow-flies, but I think this is improper. Botfly seems the nearest.17 Aujourd’hui les vaches sont sur le flanc. Couchées toutes trois ainsi que leurs veaux. À ne rien faire qu’à se laisser délivrer par le vent chaud des mouches, taons et frappe-à-bord. (‘La fête des vaches,’ 115) Today the cows are resting. All three lying down, their calves too. With nothing to do but let the warm wind rid them of flies, horseflies and gadflies. (‘The Festival of the Cows,’ 69) 3. loche: is not smelt which is the éperlan.18 Anyhow loche is an improper name. It should be poulamon, but all the natives along the St. Lawrence call it loche or petits poissons des chenaux, fished through a hole in the ice. You may have heard of it. Also little morue. The best I can find is tomcod or frostfish. Ce jour-là, Berthe et moi nous apprêtions à descendre au fleuve y pêcher la loche, et Tontine, folle de joie, lançait des cris aigus en dansant [...]. (‘La Grande-Minoune-Maigre,’ 88) Berthe and I were getting ready that day to go down to the river to fish for tommycod and Tontine was dancing around, beside herself with joy, giving piercing cries [...]. (‘Long Skinny Minny,’ 53)



The following letters concern changes made to the manuscript after its submission to McClelland and Stewart in March 1976 and which Marshall and Roy were discussing with the editor, Lily Miller.

16 Possibly ‘spc.’ 17 The words frappe à bord and mouche à merde are underlined in the original. 18 The words loche and éperlan are underlined in the original.

252 Appendices [GR–JM, 6 May 1976] ‘Crucial’ – Chez les ouaouarons, m’a dit Berthe, on ne sait pas, c’est peut-être comme pour les gens le premier sommeil qui est réparateur. Moi, dit-elle, réveillée de mon premier sommeil, il m’arrive de ne pouvoir me rendormir. (‘Monsieur Toung,’ 16)19 ‘With frogs,’ said Berthe, ‘who knows, it may be as it is with people, the first sleep is crucial. Sometimes when I’m wakened out of my first sleep, I can’t drop off again.’ (‘Monsieur Toong,’ 12)



[GR–JM, 20 September 1976] ‘Then through ...’.20 Alors, à travers cet ensemble vocal qu’imite parfois si bien le vent dans le haut ciel, je crus entendre le bruit assourdi d’une détonation. (‘Jeannot-la-Corneille,’ 53) Then through the vocal ensemble that at times so closely imitates the wind high in the sky, I thought I heard the dull sound of a shot. (‘Jeannot the Crow,’ 31)



[GR–JM, 28 September 1976]21 ‘as if it imagined’ Par ailleurs, l’esprit en est réjoui, comme s’il s’imaginait plus libre ici que sur le chemin de tout le monde. (‘La Grande-Minoune-Maigre,’ 97) However, the spirit rejoices, as if it imagined itself freer here than on the road of everyone else. (‘Long Skinny Minny,’ 59)

19 In a later edition of the book, this passage reads: ‘Chez les ouaouarons, m’a dit Berthe, on ne sait pas, leur premier sommeil, comme chez les gens, est peut-être très léger. Moi, dit-elle, réveillée de mon premier sommeil, il m’arrive de ne pouvoir me rendormir’ (Cet été qui chantait [Montreal: Boréal, 1993], 14). 20 As GR noted in her letter, the English version differs somewhat from the French. 21 See also JM–GR, 9 December 1976.

Bibliography



Works by Joyce Marshall Novels and Short Story Collections Presently Tomorrow. Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1946. Lovers and Strangers. Philadelphia and New York: J.B. Lippincott Company, 1957. A Private Place: Stories. Ottawa: Oberon Press, 1975. Any Time at All and Other Stories. New Canadian Library. Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1993. Any Time at All and Other Stories. Audiotape. Toronto: CNIB, 1994. Blood and Bone / En chair et en os. Oakville, ON, and Buffalo: Mosaic Press, 1995. Short Stories A number of the stories in this list were subsequently reprinted in magazines, anthologies, and other types of collections, in English and in translation. Only the first publication is listed here and, if appropriate, an indication as to whether the story is included in one of Joyce Marshall’s short story collections. ‘Come Ye Apart.’ In Fiction, 5–10. Toronto: Writers’ Club, 1936. ‘And the Hilltop Was Elizabeth.’ Queen’s Quarterly 45, 2 (Summer 1938): 186– 94. ‘The Hero.’ Canadian Life, March–April 1949, 9, 35. ‘Nora – With Mercy.’ Canadian Home Journal, November 1949, 22–3, 44–6, 52.

254 Bibliography ‘Learn It Early.’ Seventeen, August 1950, 162, 245–6, 248, 250, 252, 288. ‘The Old Woman.’ In Canadian Short Stories, ed. Robert Weaver and Helen James, 48–60. Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1952. Reprinted in A Private Place, 77–91; and in Any Time at All and Other Stories, 94–107. ‘Oh Jocelyn, My Friend.’ Canadian Home Journal, March 1953, 9, 72, 74–80. ‘The Screaming Silence.’ New Liberty, October 1953, 29, 48–50. ‘The Ride Home.’ Montrealer, October 1958, 28, 30, 32. ‘In the Midst of Life.’ Montrealer, April 1959, 20–3. ‘Snow on Flat Top.’ Montrealer, December 1960, 24–6. ‘Rightly Call[ed] the Nymph.’ Montrealer, May 1963, 30–5. ‘A Private Place.’ In 73: New Canadian Stories, ed. David Helwig and Joan Harcourt, 45–59. Ottawa: Oberon Press, 1973. Reprinted in A Private Place, 5–21; and in Any Time at All and Other Stories, 178–93. ‘So Many Have Died.’ Tamarack Review 62 (Winter 1974): 9–30. Reprinted in A Private Place, 118–35; and in Any Time at All and Other Stories, 111–36. ‘The Enemy.’ First published in A Private Place, 22–34; reprinted in Blood and Bone / En chair et en os, 135–46 (French title, ‘L’ennemi,’ 147–60). ‘Salvage.’ Published in A Private Place, 35–64. ‘The Little White Girl.’ First published in A Private Place, 65–76; reprinted in Any Time at All and Other Stories, 11–22. ‘Any Time at All.’ First published in A Private Place, 92–117; reprinted in Any Time at All and Other Stories, 194–211. ‘Summer.’ In 75: New Canadian Stories, ed. David Helwig and Joan Harcourt, 42–56. Ottawa: Oberon Press, 1975. ‘The Accident.’ Fiddlehead 108 (Winter 1976): 62–9. Reprinted in Any Time at All and Other Stories, 23–33. ‘The Gradual Day.’ Canadian Fiction Magazine 20 (Winter 1976): 84–9. ‘Windows.’ Canadian Fiction Magazine 27 (1977): 102–12. ‘Paul and Phyllis.’ Tamarack Review 72 (Autumn 1977): 28–53. ‘The Escape.’ In Aurora: New Canadian Writing 1978, ed. Morris Wolfe, 123–33. Toronto: Doubleday, 1978. ‘The Case of Cassandra Dop.’ In Small Wonders: New Stories by Twelve Distinguished Writers, ed. Robert Weaver, 73–83. Toronto: CBC Enterprises, 1982. ‘My Refugee.’ In 83: Best Canadian Stories, ed. David Helwig and Sandra Martin, 146–59. Ottawa: Oberon Press, 1983. Reprinted in Any Time at All and Other Stories, 181–93. ‘Avis de Vente.’ Matrix 19 (Autumn 1984): 2–8. Reprinted in Any Time at All and Other Stories, 56–66.

Bibliography

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‘The Tourist.’ Canadian Forum 64 (March 1985): 30–3. Reprinted in Blood and Bone / En chair et en os, 1–8 (French title, ‘Le touriste,’ 9–17). ‘The Rearing Horse.’ Fiddlehead 145 (Autumn 1985): 52–6. Reprinted in Blood and Bone / En chair et en os, 73–9 (French title, ‘Et le cheval se cabra,’ 81–8). ‘Corridors.’ Room of One’s Own 10, 2 (December 1985): 3–14. Reprinted in Any Time at All and Other Stories, 137–50. ‘Senior Year.’ Matrix 22 (Spring 1986): 15–22. Reprinted in Any Time at All and Other Stories, 67–78. ‘Jake’s Leaps.’ Dandelion 14, 1 (Spring–Summer 1987): 62–71. ‘Blood and Bone.’ Canadian Forum 67 (August–September 1987): 18–23. Reprinted in Blood and Bone / En chair et en os, 89–102 (French title, ‘En chair et en os,’ 103–19). ‘Kat.’ Canadian Woman Studies / Les cahiers de la femme 8, 3 (Autumn 1987): 124–5. Reprinted in Blood and Bone / En chair et en os, 121–6 (French title, ‘Kat,’ 127–33). ‘Just Let One Thing.’ Event 18, 1 (Spring 1989): 19–27. Reprinted in Blood and Bone / En chair et en os, 47–58 (French title, ‘Un détail infime,’ 59–72). ‘The Heights.’ Published in Any Time at All and Other Stories, 34–55. ‘Kristiansen.’ Published in Any Time at All and Other Stories, 153–77. ‘...That Good Night.’ Room of One’s Own 16, 4 (December 1993): 82–92. Reprinted in Blood and Bone / En chair et en os, 19–30 (French title, ‘Où est ta victoire?’ 31–45). ‘Like All of Us.’ Fiddlehead 180 (Summer 1994): 5–15. ‘The Student.’ Matrix 43 (Summer 1994): 6–10. ‘Waiting.’ Canadian Forum 77 (December 1998): 37–41. Translations Gabrielle Roy. ‘Grandmother and the Doll.’ Translated by Joyce Marshall. Chatelaine, October 1960, 44–5, 82–6. Naïm Kattan. ‘Montreal Letter.’ Translated by Joyce Marshall. Tamarack Review 30 (Winter 1964): 48–52. Naïm Kattan. ‘Letter from Montreal: The New Elite and the Institutions.’ Translated by Joyce Marshall. Tamarack Review 34 (Winter 1965): 57–64. Bernard Weilbrenner. ‘New France under the Sun King.’ Translated by Joyce Marshall. Tamarack Review 35 (Spring 1965): 90–5. Naïm Kattan. ‘Montreal Letter: French-Canadian Plays.’ Translated by Joyce Marshall. Tamarack Review 37 (Autumn 1965): 60–4.

256 Bibliography Naïm Kattan. ‘Montreal and French-Canadian Culture.’ Translated by Joyce Marshall. Tamarack Review 40 (Summer 1966): 40–2. Gabrielle Roy. The Road Past Altamont. Translated by Joyce Marshall. Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1966. Marie de l’Incarnation. Word from New France: The Selected Letters of Marie de l’Incarnation. Translated and edited by Joyce Marshall. Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1967. Gabrielle Roy. ‘Le thème raconté par Gabrielle Roy’ / ‘The Theme Unfolded by Gabrielle Roy.’ Translated by Joyce Marshall. In Terre des hommes / Man and His World, ed. Guy Robert, 20–61. Ottawa: La Compagnie canadienne de l’Exposition universelle de 1967 / Canadian Corporation for the 1967 World Exhibition, 1967. Eugène Cloutier. No Passport: A Discovery of Canada. Translated and edited by Joyce Marshall. Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1968. Gabrielle Roy. Windflower. Translated by Joyce Marshall. Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1970. Naïm Kattan. ‘Introduction.’ Translated by Joyce Marshall, v–x. In Mad Shadows by Marie-Claire Blais. Translated by Merloyd Lawrence. New Canadian Library. Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1971. Thérèse F. Casgrain. A Woman in a Man’s World. Translated by Joyce Marshall. Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1972. Naïm Kattan. ‘Space in the Canadian Novel of the West.’ Translated by Joyce Marshall. Ariel 4, 3 (July 1973): 103–10. Gabrielle Roy. The Hidden Mountain. Translated by Harry L. Binsse [1962], revised by Joyce Marshall. Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1974. Naïm Kattan. ‘Translation.’ Translated by Joyce Marshall. Scholarly Publishing 26, 1 (October 1974): 27–32. Gérard Pelletier. The October Crisis. Translated by Joyce Marshall. Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1976. Gabrielle Roy. Enchanted Summer. Translated by Joyce Marshall. Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1976. Gabrielle Roy. ‘The Satellites.’ Translated by Joyce Marshall. Tamarack Review 74 (Spring 1978): 5–28. Poetry Contributions to Canadian Poetry (7), Saturday Night (39), and Dalhousie Review (1), 1937–42. For the complete list, see ‘Marshall, Joyce,’ Canadian Periodical Index, 1920–1937: An Author and Subject Index (Ottawa: Canadian Library

Bibliography

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Association, 1988), 376, and ‘Marshall, Joyce,’ Canadian Periodical Index, 1938– 1947 (Ottawa: Canadian Library Association, 1962), 1320–1. Radio Short stories read on CBC Radio programs Canadian Short Stories, Bernie Braden Reads a Story, Anthology, and others, from 1950 on. For a list of these contributions, see W.H. New, ‘Joyce Marshall,’ Dictionary of Literary Biography, 197. Non-fiction Prose ‘Is It the Climate?’ Saturday Night, 6 August 1938, 7. ‘How Not to Write.’ Saturday Night, 30 September 1939, 20. ‘Afterthought on My Parents.’ Saturday Night, 20 January 1940, 28. ‘Françoise Mallet-Joris: A Young Writer on Her Way.’ Tamarack Review 8 (Summer 1958): 63–72. ‘“... In the Same Country ...”’ Tamarack Review 13 (Autumn 1959): 121–4. ‘Some Recent Writing from French Canada.’ Tamarack Review 23 (Spring 1962): 96–101. ‘Leaving Copenhagen.’ Montrealer, February 1964, 22–30. ‘The Oasis.’ Montrealer, July 1964, 28–30. ‘Canadian Poets and Their Mythologies.’ Montrealer, October 1965, 40–3. ‘Introduction.’ In Word from New France: The Selected Letters of Marie de l’Incarnation, 1–33. Translated and edited by Joyce Marshall. Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1967. ‘Translator’s Note.’ In No Passport: A Discovery of Canada, by Eugène Cloutier, v–x. Translated and edited by Joyce Marshall. Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1968. ‘Three from the Other Nation.’ Tamarack Review 46 (Winter 1968): 109–113. ‘Aquin, Hubert,’ ‘Bessette, Gérard,’ ‘Blais, Marie-Claire,’ ‘Cloutier, Cécile,’ ‘Ducharme, Réjean,’ ‘Godin, Gérald,’ ‘Hébert, Anne,’ ‘Major, André,’ ‘Paradis, Suzanne,’ ‘Roy, Gabrielle,’ ‘Savard, Félix-Antoine,’ ‘Vigneault, Gilles.’ In Supplement (1967) to The Oxford Companion to Canadian History and Literature, ed. William Toye, 5–6, 15–16, 18–19, 43–4, 69, 116, 127, 227, 241–2, 282–3, 286–7, 309. Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1973. ‘Introduction.’ In The Road Past Altamont, by Gabrielle Roy, vii–xi. Translated

258 Bibliography by Joyce Marshall. New Canadian Library. Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1976. ‘... A Difficult Country, and Our Home.’ In Divided We Stand, ed. Gary Geddes, 186–91. Toronto: Peter Martin, 1977. ‘Dorothy Livesay: A Bluestocking Remembers.’ Branching Out 7, 1 (1980): 18–21. ‘Profile: Joyce Marshall.’ In Writers and Writing, ed. Patricia Thorvaldson, 159– 61. Toronto: Ontario Educational Communications Authority, 1981. ‘The Author Comments.’ In Writers and Writing, ed. Patricia Thorvaldson, 175– 9. Toronto: Ontario Educational Communications Authority, 1981. ‘Gabrielle Roy 1909–1983.’ Antigonish Review 55 (Autumn 1983): 35–46. ‘La belle bête,’ ‘Blais, Marie-Claire,’ ‘Godin, Gérald,’ ‘Major, André,’ ‘Marie de l’Incarnation,’ ‘Paradis, Suzanne,’ ‘Roy, Gabrielle,’ ‘Vigneault, Gilles.’ In The Oxford Companion to Canadian Literature, ed. William Toye, 52, 72–4, 304, 502– 3, 508, 635–6, 718–20, 813–14. Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1983. ‘Gabrielle Roy, 1909–1983: Some Reminiscences.’ Canadian Literature 101 (Summer 1984): 183–4. ‘Enigmatic Gabrielle.’ Canadian Literature 109 (Summer 1986): 107–8. ‘Escape Artists.’ Books in Canada, April 1988, 26–7. ‘Something about Her Parrots.’ Books in Canada, June–July 1988, 25. ‘The Writer as Translator: A Personal View.’ Canadian Literature 117 (Summer 1988): 25–9. ‘Ethel Wilson.’ Brick 35 (Spring 1989): 32–6. ‘Sons and Lover.’ Books in Canada, June–July 1989, 35. ‘Death by Drowning.’ Books in Canada, October 1989, 37. ‘Adam and Gabrielle.’ Books in Canada, December 1989, 36. ‘First Novels: The Perils of Phoebe.’ Books in Canada, March 1990, 48–9. ‘Remembering Gabrielle Roy.’ Brick 39 (Summer 1990): 58–62. ‘Morley Callaghan 1903–1990: A Tribute.’ Books in Canada, October 1990, 11–12. ‘Sacred Monsters.’ Books in Canada, October 1990, 32–3. ‘Found in Translation.’ Books in Canada, March 1991, 30–2. ‘A Desire to Write.’ Books in Canada, September 1991, 34–5. ‘Next Episodes.’ Books in Canada, April 1992, 27–9. ‘Adele Wiseman, 1928–1992: A Tribute.’ Books in Canada, September 1992, 5. ‘Private Necessities.’ Books in Canada, October 1992, 35. ‘Brief Review.’ Books in Canada, November 1992, 50. ‘Remembering Gwendolyn MacEwen.’ Brick 45 (Winter 1993): 61–5 ‘Personal and Political (SmithBooks / Books in Canada First Novel Award. Judges comment on the short listed works).’ Co-authors Leona Gom and John Steffler. Books in Canada, April 1995, 9–13.

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259

‘La belle bête,’ ‘Blais, Marie-Claire,’ ‘Godin, Gérald,’ ‘Harvor, Elisabeth,’ ‘Major, André,’ ‘Marie de l’Incarnation,’ ‘Paradis, Suzanne,’ ‘Roy, Gabrielle,’ ‘Vigneault, Gilles.’ In The Oxford Companion to Canadian Literature, ed. Eugene Benson and William Toye, 2d ed., 93–4, 124–6, 471–2, 520, 721–2, 729–30, 903, 1023–4, 1155–6. Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1997. ‘Remembering Adele.’ In We Who Can Fly: Poems, Essays and Memories in Honour of Adele Wiseman, ed. Elizabeth Greene, 7–12. Dunvegan, ON: Cormorant Books, 1997. ‘Margaret Laurence: A Reminiscence.’ In Margaret Laurence: Critical Reflections, ed. David Staines, 163–8. Ottawa: University of Ottawa Press, 2001. Introduction to ‘Between Writers: From a Correspondence,’ by Joyce Marshall and Gabrielle Roy, 81–2. Brick 73 (Summer 2004): 81–98. Works by Gabrielle Roy A complete bibliography of Gabrielle Roy’s work, including her early fiction and her journalistic writing, can be found in François Ricard’s Gabrielle Roy: A Life. Works of Fiction Bonheur d’occasion. 2 vols. Montreal: Société des Éditions Pascal, 1945. New edition, 1 vol. Montreal: Boréal, 1993. Translated by Hannah Josephson as The Tin Flute (New York: Reynal and Hitchcock, 1947); retranslated by Alan Brown (The Tin Flute [Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1980]). La Petite Poule d’Eau. Montreal: Beauchemin, 1950. New edition, Montreal: Boréal, 1993. Translated by Harry Binsse as Where Nests the Water Hen (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1951). Alexandre Chenevert. Montreal: Beauchemin, 1954. New edition, Montreal: Boréal, 1995. Translated by Harry Binsse as The Cashier (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1955). Rue Deschambault. Montreal: Beauchemin, 1955. New edition, Montreal: Boréal, 1993. Translated by Harry Binsse as Street of Riches (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1957). La montagne secrète. Montreal: Beauchemin, 1961. New edition, Montreal: Boréal, 1993. Translated by Harry Binsse as The Hidden Mountain (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1962). New edition of The Hidden Mountain, revised by Joyce Marshall (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1974). La route d’Altamont. Montreal: Éditions HMH, 1966. New edition, Montreal:

260 Bibliography Boréal, 1993. Translated by Joyce Marshall as The Road Past Altamont (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1966). La rivière sans repos. Montreal: Beauchemin, 1970. New edition, Montreal: Boréal, 1995. The novel (without the three short stories that are included in the French edition) was translated by Joyce Marshall as Windflower (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1970). Cet été qui chantait. Quebec: Éditions françaises, 1972. New edition, Montreal: Boréal, 1993. Translated by Joyce Marshall as Enchanted Summer (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1976). Un jardin au bout du monde. Montreal: Beauchemin, 1975. New edition, Montreal: Boréal, 1994. Translated by Alan Brown as Garden in the Wind (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1977). Ma vache Bossie. Montreal: Leméac, 1976. Translated by Alan Brown as My Cow Bossie (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1988). Reprinted in Contes pour enfants, 7–27. Montreal: Boréal, 1998. Ces enfants de ma vie. Montreal: Stanké, 1977. New edition, Montreal: Boréal, 1993. Translated by Alan Brown as Children of My Heart (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1979). Courte-Queue. Montreal: Stanké, 1979. Translated by Alan Brown as Cliptail (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1980). Reprinted in Contes pour enfants, 31–57. Montreal: Boréal, 1998. De quoi t’ennuies-tu, Éveline? Montreal: Éditions du Sentier, 1982. Reprinted in De quoi t’ennuies-tu, Éveline? suivi de Ély! Ély! Ély!, 9–95. Montreal: Boréal, 1988. L’Espagnole et la Pékinoise. Montreal: Boréal, 1986. Translated by Patricia Claxton as The Tortoiseshell and the Pekinese (Toronto: Doubleday Canada, 1989). Reprinted in Contes pour enfants, 61–87. Montreal: Boréal, 1998. Contes pour enfants. Montreal: Boréal, 1998. Essays Fragiles lumières de la terre: Écrits divers 1942–1970. Montreal: Quinze, 1978. New edition, Montreal: Boréal, 1996. Translated by Alan Brown as The Fragile Lights of Earth: Articles and Memories 1942–1970 (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1979). Autobiographical Writings, Correspondence, and Interviews La détresse et l’enchantement. Montreal: Boréal, 1984. New edition, Montreal: Boréal, 1996. Translated by Patricia Claxton as Enchantment and Sorrow (Toronto: Lester and Orpen Dennys, 1987).

Bibliography

261

Ma chère petite soeur: Lettres à Bernadette, 1943–1970. Edited by François Ricard. Montreal: Boréal, 1988. New edition, edited by François Ricard, Dominique Fortier, and Jane Everett. Cahiers Gabrielle Roy. Montreal: Boréal, 1999. Translated by Patricia Claxton as Letters to Bernadette (Toronto: Lester and Orpen Dennys, 1990). Le temps qui m’a manqué, suite de La détresse et l’enchantement. Edited by François Ricard, Dominique Fortier, and Jane Everett. Montreal: Boréal, 1997. New edition, Montreal: Boréal, 2000. ‘Le pays de Bonheur d’occasion’ et autres récits autobiographiques épars et inédits. Edited by François Ricard, Sophie Marcotte, and Jane Everett. Cahiers Gabrielle Roy. Montreal: Boréal, 2000. Mon cher grand fou ... Lettres à Marcel Carbotte 1947–1979. Edited by Sophie Marcotte, with the collaboration of François Ricard and Jane Everett. Cahiers Gabrielle Roy. Montreal: Boréal, 2001. Intimate Strangers: The Letters of Margaret Laurence and Gabrielle Roy. Edited by Paul G. Socken. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba Press, 2004. Femmes de lettres: Lettres de Gabrielle Roy à ses amies 1945–1978. Edited by Ariane Léger and François Ricard, with the collaboration of Sophie Montreuil and Jane Everett. Cahiers Gabrielle Roy. Montreal: Boréal, 2005. Rencontres et entretiens avec Gabrielle Roy 1947–1979. Edited by Nadine Bismuth, Amélie Desruisseaux-Talbot, and François Ricard, with the collaboration of Jane Everett and Sophie Marcotte. Cahiers Gabrielle Roy. Montreal: Boréal, 2005.

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Index



Adrienne. See Choquette, Adrienne Aimé. See Simard, Aimé Aquin, Hubert, 166, 166n Atwood, Margaret, xv, 53n; The Edible Woman, 53, 53n Aurobindo, Sri, 12, 12n BBC (British Broadcasting Corporation), 92, 93 Beauchemin. See Éditions Beauchemin Bergeron, Madeleine, 6, 6n, 9, 14n, 61, 121, 122, 134, 151, 152 Bernadette. See Roy, Bernadette Berthe. See Simard, Berthe Berton, Pierre, 87, 87n Bérubé, Fernand, 83, 84, 84n Bessette, Gérard, 123, 123n, 125, 126 Best Modern Canadian Short Stories, The (ed. Ivon Owen and Morris Wolfe), 219, 219n Bill 101, 193n, 197n Binsse, Harry Lorin, xiv, xiv n, 27, 27n, 28, 97n, 98, 100, 104, 104n, 107, 109, 127n, 235, 247 Bishop’s University (Lennoxville, Quebec), xviii, xxii

Blais, Marie-Claire, 189, 189n, 216, 216n Boissonneau, Alice, 222, 222n Boland, Suzanne, 81, 81n Bourassa, Robert, 61n British Motifs: A Collection of Modern Stories (ed. James E. Miller, Robert Hayden, and Robert O’Neal), 85, 85n Brown, Alan, xiv n, xvii n, 15n, 74n, 151n, 168, 172, 172n, 188n, 190, 195n, 219n, 233n Bryant, Arthur, 24n; The Medieval Foundation, 24n, 25 Bujold, Geneviève, 23, 23n Bussières, Simone, 108, 108n Callaghan, Morley, 148–9, 149n Cameron, Silver Donald, 79, 79n, 96, 216, 217; ed. Conversations with Canadian Novelists, 79n Canada Council for the Arts, 10, 10n, 81, 130, 131, 135, 191 Canada Council Translation Prize, xvi, 191, 249 Canadian magazine, 167, 167n, 170, 174, 178n, 180

264 Index Carbotte, Marcel, xi, xviii, xviii n, 3, 3n, 5, 6, 6n, 8, 9, 10, 13, 15, 18, 20, 25, 27, 33, 36, 38, 45, 48, 52, 56n, 66, 67–8, 68n, 70, 71, 75, 76, 86, 90, 91, 93, 95, 108, 133, 150, 153, 163n, 168n, 217, 223, 224, 225 Carol. See Moore-Ede Myers, Carol Carrier, Roch, 70n, 166, 166n; La Guerre, Yes Sir! 70, 70n, 166n Casgrain, Thérèse, xvi n, 100, 100n, 105, 115, 130 Cather, Willa, 43, 43n, 45 CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation), xii, xv, xvi, 7, 10n, 32, 78, 85, 85n, 92, 189, 189n, 190n, 192n, 195n, 196, 196n, 201, 205n, 210n, 216, 216n, 220n, 221, 222n, 227, 231, 231n; Anthology (CBC Radio), xv, 32, 78, 85n; The Garden and the Cage (CBC Television), 189, 189n, 190, 190n, 192, 192n, 193, 195, 195n, 196, 196n, 205, 205n, 210, 210n, 216, 216n, 217, 220, 220n, 221, 222, 222n, 231, 231n; Wednesday Night (CBC Radio), xii, xii n, 10n Chabot, Cécile, 4n, 6n Chaput-Rolland, Solange, 21, 21n Chassé, Madeleine, xi, 4n, 5, 5n, 6, 6n, 9, 14n, 15, 61, 121, 122, 134, 151, 152 Chatelaine magazine, xii, 7, 237 Choquette, Adrienne, 14, 14n, 17, 18, 107, 107n, 108, 108n, 109, 110, 111 Christine (character in Gabrielle Roy’s Rue Deschambault and La route d’Altamont), xix n, 154, 154n, 216, 216n Clarke, Irwin Publishers, 96, 99 Claxton, Patricia, xvii n, xviii n, 59n, 209n

Clémence. See Roy, Clémence Cloutier, Eugène, xv n Cobb, David, 167, 167n, 169, 170, 170n, 173, 174, 178n Cohen, Annette, 23n Colette, Sidonie Gabrielle, 15, 15n Conference on the Canadian Novel (Calgary, 1978), 206, 206n, 207, 208 Council of Arts. See Canada Council for the Arts Crawley Films, 14, 14n, 25, 32 Cross, James, 69n, 70 Deborah (character in Gabrielle Roy’s ‘Les satellites’), 111, 111n, 190, 198, 208, 218, 220 Dédette. See Roy, Bernadette Devoir, Le (Montreal), 70, 70n, 198, 200, 200n Diddy, Aunt. See Little, Mildred (Chambers) Divided We Stand (ed. Gary Geddes), 203, 203n Dubuc, Marie, 31, 31n Eastern Townships Research Centre (Bishop’s University, Lennoxville, Quebec), xxii, 249 Éditions Beauchemin, 77, 83, 102, 114, 117, 150 Éditions françaises, 80, 83, 84n, 86, 88 Edwards, Mary Jane, 123, 123n, 128, 129; intro. to Gabrielle Roy’s The Hidden Mountain (New Canadian Library edition), 123, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128, 129, 136, 140, 142, 147, 156 Elsa (character in Gabrielle Roy’s La

Index

265

rivière sans repos), 186, 186n, 196, 197, 198, 199 Engel, Marian, 161, 161n Éthier-Blais, Jean, 70, 70n Expo 67 (Montreal World’s Fair), xix, 12n, 14n, 17, 19, 20

Henwood, Vivian, 19, 19n, 135, 135n, 185, 185n, 186, 200, 200n Hind-Smith, Joan, 96, 96n, 99, 102, 106, 110, 112, 115, 116, 127, 132, 137, 142, 151, 153, 156, 159, 225 Howard, Marta, 184, 185, 185n, 187

Fiddlehead (Fredericton), 173, 174 Findley, Timothy, 189n, 195, 205, 211. See also CBC (The Garden and the Cage) Fischman, Sheila, 70, 70n, 138, 166, 166n Forster, E.M. (Edward Morgan), 120 Fraser, Sylvia, 226n Freedman, Adele, 188n

Jack. See McClelland, Jack Joan. See Hind-Smith, Joan Jori. See Smith, Jori Josephson, Hannah, xiv n, 74n

General Publishers, 121, 122 Gibson, Shirley, 183, 183n Glassco, John, 130, 130n, 132; rumour re: trans. of Gabrielle Roy’s Bonheur d’occasion, 130, 131, 132, 134 Globe and Mail (Toronto), 22, 71, 72n, 149n, 161, 161n, 183, 188, 188n Governor General’s Award for Fiction, xvii, 213, 213n Governor General’s Award for Translation, xvi n, 249n Grosskurth, Phyllis, 72, 72n Grove, Frederick Philip, 96, 96n, 132 Gzowski, Peter, 192, 192n H & B, HB. See Harcourt Brace & World Harcourt Brace & World, 27, 27n, 28, 29, 30, 31, 33, 35n, 36, 36n Hébert, François, 213n Helwig, Maggie, 232, 232n

Kattan, Naïm, 135 Komarov, Vladimir Mikhaylovich, 17, 17n La Fontaine, Jean de, 157, 157n Lapierre, Laurier, 74, 74n Laporte, Pierre, 68, 69, 69n, 70 Laurence, Margaret, xv, xix, 32n, 96, 167, 168, 168n, 169, 171, 173, 173n, 174, 175, 177, 178, 206, 206n, 207, 232; A Jest of God, 32, 32n, 36; The Diviners, 168, 168n, 169, 171, 174 Laurin, Camille, 193, 193n Lévesque, René, 61n, 187, 191, 193, 193n, 229 Liberté (Montreal), 213 Library and Archives Canada (Ottawa, Ontario), xxii, 239, 242 Lily. See Miller, Lily Literary Translators’ Association of Canada, xvii, 135n Little, Mildred (Chambers) (‘Aunt Diddy’), 59, 59n Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, 90n Macklem, Michael, 172, 172n Maclean’s magazine, 188, 188n, 189 MacLennan, Hugh, 149n

266 Index Macmillan of Canada, 79, 122 Madeleine(s), the or les. See Bergeron, Madeleine; and Chassé, Madeleine Magazine Fiction Award, 222, 222n M and S, M & S. See McClelland and Stewart, Inc. Marcel. See Carbotte, Marcel Marshall, Joyce, ‘The Accident,’ 173, 173n, 174, 176, 177; ‘Any Time at All,’ 160, 160n, 161, 161n; Any Time at All and Other Stories, xviii; Blood and Bone / En chair et en os, xviii; ‘... A Difficult Country, and Our Home,’ 203, 203n, 204; ‘The Little White Girl,’ 89, 89n, 93, 94, 125, 126, 128, 129, 144, 161; Lovers and Strangers, xiv, 3, 3n, 5; ‘The Old Woman,’ 85, 85n, 87, 159, 159n, 193; Presently Tomorrow, xi, 3, 3n, 181; ‘A Private Place,’ 85, 85n, 87, 116, 116n, 118, 119, 120, 129, 148, 159; A Private Place, xvi, 127, 128, 129, 132, 133, 134, 139, 139n, 143, 144, 146, 147, 148, 149, 151, 154, 155, 156, 157, 158, 159, 160, 160n, 161, 162, 171, 172, 173, 174, 175, 177, 183, 219n; ‘So Many Have Died,’ 139, 139n, 141, 142, 144, 160n, 219n – Editions and translations: trans. Enchanted Summer [Gabrielle Roy, Cet été qui chantait], xii, xii n, xvi, 80, 83, 84, 84n, 86, 87, 88, 88n, 89, 92, 99, 102, 110, 129, 130, 131, 132, 134, 136, 137, 150, 153, 162, 163, 164, 165, 167, 168, 170, 171, 174, 174n, 175, 175n, 176, 177, 178, 179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 183n, 184, 185, 186, 187, 187n, 188, 188n, 191, 197, 214, 235, 249–52; trans. ‘Grand-

mother and the Doll’ [Gabrielle Roy, ‘Grand-mère et la poupée’], xii, xii n, 6, 6n, 7, 8, 10, 10n, 11, 235, 237–8; rev. trans. The Hidden Mountain [Gabrielle Roy, La montagne secrète; trans. Harry Lorin Binsse], 3n, 10n, 11, 11n, 27n, 97, 97n, 98, 99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104, 104n, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 117, 118, 120, 121, 122, 123, 123n, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128, 130, 136, 137, 140, 147, 147n, 150, 156, 157, 158, 235, 247–8; ed. and trans. No Passport: A Discovery of Canada [Eugène Cloutier, Le Canada sans passeport: Regard libre sur un pays en quête de sa réalité], xv n; trans. The October Crisis [Gérard Pelletier, La crise d’Octobre], xvi n; trans. The Road Past Altamont [Gabrielle Roy, La route d’Altamont], xii, xix n, xxii, 14n, 28, 29, 30, 34, 110, 154n, 155, 156, 162, 216n; intro. to The Road Past Altamont (New Canadian Library edition), 155, 156, 158, 162; trans. ‘The Satellites’ [Gabrielle Roy, ‘Les satellites’], 27n, 42n, 46, 53, 60n, 63, 111n, 198, 198n, 199, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205, 207, 208, 209, 209n, 211, 213, 214, 222n, 226, 227, 239; trans. ‘The Telephone’ [Gabrielle Roy, ‘Le téléphone’], 27n, 42n, 46, 53, 53n, 60n, 63, 198, 198n, 199, 201, 202, 204, 206n, 208, 211, 212, 212n, 213, 226, 227, 228, 239, 239n; trans. ‘The Theme Unfolded by Gabrielle Roy’ [Gabrielle Roy, ‘Le thème raconté par Gabrielle Roy’], 12, 12n, 13, 14, 15, 15n, 16, 17, 18, 20,

Index 21; trans. ‘The Wheelchair’ [Gabrielle Roy, ‘Le fauteuil roulant’], 27n, 31, 42n, 46, 53, 60n, 63, 198, 198n, 199, 201, 202, 204, 205, 206, 208, 209, 211, 212, 213, 226, 227, 239; trans. Windflower [Gabrielle Roy, La rivière sans repos], xii, xii n, 27, 27n, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35n, 36, 36n, 37, 38, 39, 40, 40n, 41, 42, 42–3, 44, 44n, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 50n, 51, 52, 53, 53n, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 63, 64, 65, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 72n, 73, 110, 131, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 142, 143, 144, 148, 150, 180, 186n, 196, 197n, 198n, 235, 239–41, 242–6; trans. A Woman in a Man’s World [Thérèse Casgrain, Une femme chez les hommes], xvi n, 100, 100n, 105, 115, 130; ed. and trans. Word from New France: The Selected Letters of Marie de l’Incarnation, xvi, xvi n, 13, 13n, 16, 17, 19, 20, 21, 21n, 22–3, 23n Marshall, Tom, 172, 172n Martin, Peter, 172, 172n Marvell, Andrew, 148n Mason, David, 94, 94n McClelland, Jack, xii, xix, 8, 8n, 14, 14n, 23, 25, 29, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 35n, 36, 46, 47, 51, 52, 53, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 83, 89, 90, 95, 96, 102, 117, 119, 121, 126, 127, 128, 129–30, 131, 132, 134, 135, 136, 137, 141, 142, 143, 147, 148, 150, 151, 153, 156, 166, 168, 171, 183, 198, 202, 203, 204, 206, 206n, 207, 208, 209, 211, 213, 214, 215, 219, 220, 223, 224, 226, 226n McClelland and Stewart, Inc., 8n, 28, 28n, 29, 30, 34, 34n, 35n, 46, 47, 51,

267

57, 59, 60, 64, 71, 88, 97, 97n, 106, 108, 111, 112, 114, 117, 118, 120, 121, 122, 123, 126, 127, 127n, 137n, 140, 155n, 157, 158, 163, 163n, 164, 177n, 183, 184, 185, 186, 189, 195, 195n, 239n, 247, 251 McGill Daily, xiii McGill University (Montreal, Quebec), xiii McMullen, Lorraine, 140n; intro. to Gabrielle Roy’s Windflower (New Canadian Library edition), 139, 140, 142 McNeil, Don, 222, 231 Miller, Lily, 167, 167n, 171, 174, 177, 178, 181, 187, 219, 223, 224, 251 Mitchell, W.O. (William Ormond), 207, 207n Montcalm, Marquis de, 193 Montreal Gazette, 173 Montreal Star, 70, 186 Moore, Brian, 207, 207n Moore-Ede Myers, Carol, 189, 189n, 190, 221, 222. See also CBC (The Garden and the Cage) Morin, Claude, 198, 198n Mowat, Farley, 87, 87n, 127, 128 Muir, Edwin, 66n; ‘The Difficult Land,’ 66, 66n Munro, Alice, xv, 86, 86n, 166, 166n; Lives of Girls and Women, 86, 86n, 166; ‘Material,’ 166, 166n; Something I’ve Been Meaning to Tell You, 166, 166n Myers, Carol. See Moore-Ede Myers, Carol National Film Board of Canada, 22, 152

268 Index New Canadian Library (McClelland and Stewart series), 97n, 105, 123, 123n, 125, 127n, 128, 137n, 147n, 150, 155, 155n, 206n, 208, 247 Newlove, John, 127, 127n Oberon Press, 85, 115n, 129, 158, 159n, 171, 172 October Crisis (October 1970), xix, 68, 69, 69n, 70 Order of Canada, 18, 19, 149n Orr, Katherine, 189, 189n, 193 Oxford University Press, 21n, 84; Oxford Companion to Canadian Literature, 84, 85 Painchaud (family), 70, 70n, 72 Palardy, Jori. See Smith, Jori Parizeau, Jacques, 193, 193n Parti Québécois, xix, 61n, 187, 187n, 193n Paula. See Sumner, Paula Peace Corps, 31, 31n Pelletier, Gérard, xvi n Pen Club (Montreal), 117 Peter Rabbit, xiii n Presses laurentiennes, 108n Prix Femina, 12n Provincial Normal School (Winnipeg, Manitoba), xiii Purdy, Al (Alfred Wellington), 181–2 Queen’s University (Kingston, Ontario), 171, 172 Radcliffe, Carolyn, 54, 55, 57, 58 Readers’ Club of Canada, 172, 172n, 173 Reader’s Digest, 179, 180, 211n, 227, 228, 229, 239n

Reeves, John, 152, 152n, 153, 154, 170, 178n Referendum on Quebec sovereignty (20 May 1980), xix, 228, 228n, 229, 230 Remple, Jean, 70, 70n Ricard, François, 151n, 154, 154n; Gabrielle Roy, 151, 151n, 153, 154, 155 Richmond, John, 186, 186n Robert, Guy, 12n, 14, 15, 16, 17 Rose-Anna (character in Gabrielle Roy’s Bonheur d’occasion), 216, 216n Ross, Malcolm, 126n, 127, 127n, 128, 129, 136, 147, 147n, 150, 155, 156, 157; intro. to Gabrielle Roy’s The Hidden Mountain (New Canadian Library edition), 147, 147n, 148, 150, 156 Roussil, Robert, 81, 81n Roy, Anna, 70n Roy, Antonia (Houde), 67, 67n, 68, 69 Roy, Bernadette (‘Dédette’), xvii, xviii n, 59, 59n, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 193, 193n Roy, Clémence, 80, 80n, 98, 102, 106, 108, 109, 111, 113, 115, 136, 137, 138, 139 Roy, Gabrielle, Alexandre Chenevert [The Cashier], xiv, xiv n, 27n, 114, 122; Bonheur d’occasion [The Tin Flute], xi, xiv, xiv n, 72n, 74, 74n, 75, 75n, 76, 77, 78, 89, 90, 91, 130n, 216n, 233, 233n; Ces enfants de ma vie [Children of My Heart], xvii, xix n, 195, 195n, 197, 200, 201, 202, 202n, 211, 213, 213n, 219, 219n; Cet été qui chantait [Enchanted Summer],

Index xii, xii n, xvi, xvii, 80, 83, 84, 84n, 86, 87, 88, 88n, 89, 92, 99, 102, 110, 130, 131, 132, 134, 136, 137, 150, 153, 162, 163, 163n, 164, 165, 167, 168, 170, 171, 174, 174n, 175, 175n, 176, 177, 178, 179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 183n, 184, 185, 186, 187, 187n, 188, 188n, 191, 197, 214, 235, 249– 52; Contes pour enfants, xviii n; Courte-Queue [Cliptail], xvii, xvii n, De quoi t’ennuies-tu, Éveline?, xvii; La détresse et l’enchantement [Enchantment and Sorrow], xvii, xvii n, 209n; ‘Le fauteuil roulant’ [‘The Wheelchair’], 27n, 31, 42n, 46, 53, 53n, 60n, 63, 198, 198n, 199, 201, 202, 204, 205, 206, 208, 209, 211, 212, 213, 226, 227, 239, 239n; Fragiles lumières de la terre: Écrits divers 1942–1970 [The Fragile Lights of Earth: Articles and Memories 1942–1970], xvii, xvii n, 15n; ‘Grand-mère et la poupée’ [‘Grandmother and the Doll’], xii, xii n, 6, 6n, 7, 8, 10, 10n, 11, 235, 237–8; Ma chère petite soeur: Lettres à Bernadette, 1943–1970 [Letters to Bernadette], xviii n, 59n; Ma vache Bossie [My Cow Bossie], xvii, xvii n; Mon cher grand fou ... Lettres à Marcel Carbotte 1947–1979, xviii n; La montagne secrète [The Hidden Mountain], xiv, 3n, 10n, 11, 11n, 27n, 97, 97n, 98, 99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104, 104n, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 117, 118, 120, 121, 122, 123, 123n, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128, 130, 136, 137, 140, 147, 147n, 150, 156, 157, 158, 235, 247–8; ‘Le pays de Bonheur d’occasion’ et

269

autres récits autobiographiques épars et inédits, xviii n, 37n; La Petite Poule d’Eau [Where Nests the Water Hen], xiv, xiv n, 27n, 127, 127n, 158, 215, 215n; La rivière sans repos [Windflower], xii, xii n, xvii, 27, 27n, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35n, 36, 36n, 37, 38, 39, 40, 40n, 41, 42, 42n, 43, 44, 44n, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 50n, 51, 52, 53, 53n, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 60n, 61, 63, 64, 65, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 72n, 73, 110, 131, 137, 137n, 138, 139, 140, 141, 142, 143, 144, 148, 150, 180, 186n, 196, 197n, 198n, 212n, 235, 239–41, 242–6; La route d’Altamont [The Road Past Altamont], xii, xix n, xxii, 14n, 28, 29, 30, 30n, 34, 110, 154n, 155, 156, 158, 162, 216n; Rue Deschambault [Street of Riches], xiv, xiv n, 27n, 59n, 80n, 154n, 158, 216n; ‘Les satellites’ [‘The Satellites’], 27n, 42n, 46, 53, 53n, 60n, 63, 111n, 198, 198n, 199, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205, 207, 208, 209, 209n, 211, 213, 214, 222n, 226, 227, 239, 239n; ‘Le téléphone’ [‘The Telephone’], 27n, 42n, 46, 53, 53n, 60n, 63, 198, 198n, 199, 201, 202, 204, 206n, 208, 211, 212, 212n, 213, 226, 227, 228, 239, 239n; Le temps qui m’a manqué, suite de La détresse et l’enchantement, xviii n; ‘Le thème raconté par Gabrielle Roy’ [‘The Theme Unfolded by Gabrielle Roy’], 12, 12n, 13, 14, 15, 15n, 16, 17, 18, 20, 20n, 21; Un jardin au bout du monde [Garden in the Wind], xvii, xvii n, xix n, 151, 151n, 154, 162, 163, 163n, 168, 190, 195, 195n, 196, 197, 202, 203,

270 Index 219n; ‘Le vieillard et l’enfant,’ xix n, 14, 14n, 22, 22n, 23, 25, 32, 32n, 216, 216n. – English translations: The Cashier, see Alexandre Chenevert; Cliptail, see Courte-Queue; Garden in the Wind, see Un jardin au bout du monde; The Hidden Mountain, see La montagne secrète; My Cow Bossie, see Ma vache Bossie; The Road Past Altamont, see La route d’Altamont; ‘The Satellites,’ see ‘Les satellites’; Street of Riches, see Rue Deschambault; ‘The Telephone,’ see ‘Le téléphone’; ‘The Theme Unfolded by Gabrielle Roy,’ see ‘Le thème raconté par Gabrielle Roy’; The Tin Flute, see Bonheur d’occasion; ‘The Wheelchair,’ see ‘Le fauteuil roulant’; Where Nests the Water Hen, see La Petite Poule d’Eau; Windflower, see La rivière sans repos Roy, Germain, 66n Roy, Marie-Anna Adèle, 223n Ryan, Claude, 200, 200n Saturday Night (Toronto), 152n Scott, F.R. (Francis Reginald), 149n Sélection de Reader’s Digest. See Reader’s Digest Service, Robert, 218, 218n 73: New Canadian Stories (ed. David Helwig and Joan Harcourt), 85n, 116 Shakespeare, William, 54, 209, 209n Shaw, George Bernard, 23, 23n Shek, Ben-Zion, 49, 49n Simard, Aimé, 18n, 19, 19n, 20, 27, 76n, 93

Simard, Berthe, 18n, 19, 19n, 20, 26, 27, 41, 65, 66, 67, 76, 76n, 108 Simard, Abbé Victor, 18n, 76 Simone. See Bussières, Simone Smith, Jori, 77, 77n, 97 Soleil, Le (Quebec City), 198, 199 Starkey, Eileen, 126, 131, 131n, 132, 134, 134n, 135, 135n, 194, 194n, 210, 210n Stevenson, Robert Louis, 143n SUCO (Service universitaire canadien outremer; CUSO, Canadian University Service Overseas), 31, 31n Sumner, Paula, 117, 117n, 118 Surprenant, Denise, 229 Tamarack Review, xi, 3, 3n, 139, 141, 142, 160n, 198, 199, 201, 203, 204, 205, 207, 209, 214, 219n, 222n, 227, 239n Teilhard de Chardin, Pierre, 12n; L’avenir de l’homme, 12, 12n Terre des Hommes. See Expo 67 Trent University (Peterborough, Ontario), xvii, xxii, 228, 228n, 230, 231, 232 Trudeau, Pierre Elliott, 229, 229n Van Gogh, Vincent, 92, 93 Vanier, Georges, 12n Vigneault, Gilles, 12n Walt Disney Films, 22 Weaver, Robert (‘Bob’), xii, xv, 3n, 29, 198, 199, 201; ed. Ten for Wednesday Night: A Collection of Short Stories Presented for Broadcast by CBC Wednesday Night, xii n West, Rebecca, 62n, 181n; Black Lamb and Grey Falcon, 62, 62n

Index Whitehead, William, 189n, 205, 210, 211. See also CBC (The Garden and the Cage) Wickenden, Dan, 27, 27n, 30, 33, 35, 35n Wilson, Ethel, xv, xix, 53, 53n, 54, 54n, 57, 58, 59, 61, 62, 63, 65, 66n, 87, 94; Hetty Dorval, 53n, 65; Mrs Golightly and Other Stories, 53n,

271

54n, 66n; Swamp Angel, 53n; ‘“To keep the memory of so worthy a friend,”’ 54, 54n Wolfe, Thomas, 57n; Of Time and the River, 57, 57n Woolf, Virginia, 120, 120n Writers’ Union of Canada, xvii, 171, 171n, 172, 211