Matthieu Simard

The novella was originally published in French in 2017 as Ici, ailleurs and has just been issued by Coach House Books in an English translation by Pablo Strauss. It is narrated from two alternating points of view – that of Simon and Marie, a couple who have moved to a house in the country, in a bid to settle down to a quieter life. The protagonists are desperately trying to have a child and their obsession about this seems to be pushing them apart. It is clear that there was – and quite possibly still is – a great love between them, but by now, little lies and secrets have become a daily characteristic of their relationship. Despite their optimistic plans, something is not quite right about the village where they have chosen to live. At first, the villagers seem quite friendly – even too friendly perhaps. Yet, they also make it immediately clear that the couple are not wanted here and will always be considered as outsiders... just like Simon and Marie’s neighbours, the Lavoies, who with their picture-perfect family and showy materialistic lifestyle, could not be more different from our couple – or from the community which has (not) welcomed them.

The villagers also make vague allusions to tragic occurrences in the community’s past and, particularly, to some dark story which seems to be linked to previous occupier of the house where Simon and Marie live. They are even warned to leave “for their own good”.

Simard builds an atmosphere of dread around the village. It often feels bleak and silent, as if even the birds have lost their song. This lack of sound is a recurring theme – on the title page, the work is described or subtitled as “a novel without music”; the cello which Marie used to play and which she carried with her to the village sits silent in its case; a mysterious young woman roams the streets, allegedly deaf and dumb after a mysterious accident; no children can be heard playing in the park or the surrounding forest; the birds no longer sing. Ominously overlooking the village stands a much-hated antenna, which is seemingly the cause of the all the community’s woes or, perhaps, just a sentinel or witness to the daily tragedies of life. After all, as Marie points out:

Every town has its stories. Dark secrets, accidents, disappearances…Every little town has the same stories, and they’re always a lot like our own.

In The Country Will Bring Us No Peace, Matthieu Simard has given us a strange yet poignant novella. It is a portrayal of grief and its aftermath, whether in a family or, more widely, in a community. Yet, the strong elements of realism are also combined with the more fantastical flavours of genre fiction: the mysteries and secrets surrounding the small town would not be out of place in a thriller or crime novel, while the uncanny elements (what exactly is the antenna all about? And what is really happening in the forest?) skirt the boundaries of speculative and weird fiction. There's even a dose of humour in the dialogue.

In just over a hundred pages, Simard distils material which lesser authors would have padded out into a tome. The novella delivers gut-and-heart-wrenching twists in a language which, throughout, retains a distinctive, elegiac lyricism expertly conveyed in this English translation by Pablo Strauss. This is a special book.

https://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2019/09/country-will-bring-us-no-peace-Matthi...… (altro)

The novella was originally published in French in 2017 as Ici, ailleurs and has just been issued by Coach House Books in an English translation by Pablo Strauss. It is narrated from two alternating points of view – that of Simon and Marie, a couple who have moved to a house in the country, in a bid to settle down to a quieter life. The protagonists are desperately trying to have a child and their obsession about this seems to be pushing them apart. It is clear that there was – and quite possibly still is – a great love between them, but by now, little lies and secrets have become a daily characteristic of their relationship. Despite their optimistic plans, something is not quite right about the village where they have chosen to live. At first, the villagers seem quite friendly – even too friendly perhaps. Yet, they also make it immediately clear that the couple are not wanted here and will always be considered as outsiders... just like Simon and Marie’s neighbours, the Lavoies, who with their picture-perfect family and showy materialistic lifestyle, could not be more different from our couple – or from the community which has (not) welcomed them.

The villagers also make vague allusions to tragic occurrences in the community’s past and, particularly, to some dark story which seems to be linked to previous occupier of the house where Simon and Marie live. They are even warned to leave “for their own good”.

Simard builds an atmosphere of dread around the village. It often feels bleak and silent, as if even the birds have lost their song. This lack of sound is a recurring theme – on the title page, the work is described or subtitled as “a novel without music”; the cello which Marie used to play and which she carried with her to the village sits silent in its case; a mysterious young woman roams the streets, allegedly deaf and dumb after a mysterious accident; no children can be heard playing in the park or the surrounding forest; the birds no longer sing. Ominously overlooking the village stands a much-hated antenna, which is seemingly the cause of the all the community’s woes or, perhaps, just a sentinel or witness to the daily tragedies of life. After all, as Marie points out:

Every town has its stories. Dark secrets, accidents, disappearances…Every little town has the same stories, and they’re always a lot like our own.

In The Country Will Bring Us No Peace, Matthieu Simard has given us a strange yet poignant novella. It is a portrayal of grief and its aftermath, whether in a family or, more widely, in a community. Yet, the strong elements of realism are also combined with the more fantastical flavours of genre fiction: the mysteries and secrets surrounding the small town would not be out of place in a thriller or crime novel, while the uncanny elements (what exactly is the antenna all about? And what is really happening in the forest?) skirt the boundaries of speculative and weird fiction. There's even a dose of humour in the dialogue.

In just over a hundred pages, Simard distils material which lesser authors would have padded out into a tome. The novella delivers gut-and-heart-wrenching twists in a language which, throughout, retains a distinctive, elegiac lyricism expertly conveyed in this English translation by Pablo Strauss. This is a special book.

https://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2019/09/country-will-bring-us-no-peace-Matthi...… (altro)

‘’The silence came down on us like rain one Thursday, and we spent years submerged in it. The birds fell silent and rusty hinges stopped squeaking and no children hollered in the schoolyard. The passenger-side car speaker died; dead leaves ceased to rustle in the wind. Just silence. That was three years ago, far from here. We’ve weathered hundreds of storms since then. And each time she’s been there to rap me on the shoulder and remind me of the day before. Forty years from now there will be nothing left of us. Our memory and the photographs and the recollections of those who disappeared will all be gone, like the notes from an old cello in the ruins of an old house.’’

Nature often becomes our escape. Sometimes, it is our only hope for change, rebirth even. This is the plan of Marie and Simon, the couple that abandons the city for a small rural community, hoping for a change that will result in a miracle: the conception of a child. But the country isn’t always hospitable and the community they’ve found themselves a part of is strange, its residents cold and secretive. Simon and Marie have to tread carefully.

‘’Every town has its stories. Dark secrets, accidents, disappearances.’’

Simard constructs the atmosphere of the community masterfully. Birds cannot be heard. If they exist somewhere within the premises of the village, they have chosen to remain silent. The sunlight disappears throughout the summer days, creating a gloomy, claustrophobic atmosphere. There are secrets concerning the previous owner of our couple’s house. A park where ‘’bad’’ things happen, a path leading to a dark forest. A mysterious girl, a legend that speaks of lost children. And an antenna is looming over the community, like a pagan god made of steel, watching the residents, willing them to disappear.

‘’We tell ourselves lies in order to survive. Trade them, like kids with their old toys.’’

‘’Peace is a momentary void between two conflicts.’’

An overwhelming, foreboding feeling grips the reader’s heart from the very first pages of this extraordinary novel. Secrets start being uncovered gradually and the effect is shocking and as painful as a sudden punch in the stomach. The feeling of dread starts growing and growing and the mind tries to predict what’s coming next. A dozen scenarios hovering inside the brain and none of them is optimistic.

Darkness doesn’t exist only within the community. There are too many shadows inside Simon and Marie, two kind, gentle people who were treated viciously by fate and struggle to defeat the ghosts lurking in the corners. There is such a stark contrast between the awful Lavoies and our couple that highlights the difference between an elitist, materialistic society that demands open doors and pool parties and the need for simplicity and personal space, lost in the age of social media idiocy and the lack of understanding the notion of the different opinion. Simard comments on the results of industrialization and progress built on feet made of clay, the madness of obligatory socializing and invasion of privacy. But most importantly, he poignantly demonstrates that sometimes the past is so much stronger than us.

With an ending that is an absolute shocker, this novel is everything today’s Literature has to be and is often lost in murder mysteries, YA naïveté, naked torsos ‘’books’’ and commercial rubbish. It is a revelation, a dark jewell. A haunting presence.

‘’In the murky moonlight I feel the short-trimmed grass tickling my toes. Or maybe it’s the ants. It’s dark in the shed. Shadows and reflections are all I can see. I’m alone.’’

Many thanks to Coach House Books and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com… (altro)