“An’ how’re you gonna do dat?”
1677.67.5
Terry’s Notebooks
Chico shrugged: he hadn’t gotten to that point, yet.
Wonky — in the dictionary!
1678.96.1
Characters
“Wot does she tink? Dat we’ll like ’er fer free’?”
Language as a tool for seduction.
1679.126.10
Techniques
“An’ den wot?”
Pomme had just joined his two comrades at the Babar. He’d taken the time to hang his coat on the back of his chair before intervening.
“Eh? An’ wot?”
Terry and Zed knew very well they’d end up explaining everything to Pomme in time, but neither figured the time was quite now.
“An’ nuttin’. We’s just talkin’, dat’s all.”
Pomme studied them slowly each in turn.
“Alright, den. How about dis: Lisa’s pregnant.”
And time to celebrate.
1680.102.11
The Trio
Eventually, in spite of the ban on marriages between cousins seven times removed, the Catholic Church decided it could grant dispensations up to cousins thrice removed, in order to protect inheritances and all that relates to heritage. Protecting one’s heritage, saving one’s heritage: an essential preoccupation of Acadians. From the beginning of time, defending one’s village, cattle, lands, church, and ultimately one’s language. From the beginning of time, and most likely until the end.
1681.106.12
Customs
“I can’t be goin’ troo, if you puts yer dump truck der . . .”
“Yes, you can.”
“No! On account of I has to plow dis ’ere side of de butte.”
“Only afterwards, when I goes to dump me rocks, I won’t be able to slew around properly. Luh . . .”
The two boys studied the whole of the work site, and Chico made a proposal:
“You could be movin’ de rocks wid de crane . . .”
Étienne considered it.
“Alright.”
. . .
. . .
“Hey! Where’s de cement truck got to?!”
1682.139.4
Étienne and Chico
For several months, every two or three days, an envelope would arrive for Chico, not very big, white with a pale blue design inside, and containing only a small drawing, a bit of color, a few stick characters without heads. Then nothing more.
1683.96.9
Characters
“Dad?”
“Wot?”
“You remember de time we went strawberry pickin’, just you an’ me?”
“Last summer, you mean?”
This reference disoriented Étienne, who did not yet have a clear sense of time. Terry brought him back:
“De strawberries wid no chemicals in dem?”
Étienne nodded.
“Alright . . . an’ den?”
“Well, I didn’t really tink dat Granny Thibodeau would’ve put Mister Clean in de pie, because dat wouldn’t be nice.”
Terry was impressed:
“Yer still thinkin’ ’bout dat? Well, yer absolutely right, me boy, Granny would never do a ting like dat.”
This surprised Étienne.
“But, dat’s wot you said.”
“Me, I said dat? Well, maybe so. Only, I don’t really tink she’d do such a ting; ’twas only in a manner of speakin’.”
Étienne found it troubling that there could be more than one manner of speaking. Terry added:
“Granny Després wouldn’t do such a ting neidder, far as dat goes. To tell de troot’, der’s not many folks would. Der’s not dat many folks’re dat mean.”
As he spoke Terry remembered that he had indeed tried to get Étienne to say which of his two grandmothers he was thinking of when he raised the possibility of poisoning.
“Boat yer grandmudders wouldn’t hurt a fly. Now, dat’s a manner of speakin’, as well. On account of dey do kill some flies, from time to time. It only means dat dey wouldn’t be hurtin’ people.”
Étienne looked content, relieved.
“Dat’s wot you was wantin’ to tell me?”
Étienne nodded:
“I tawt you were tinkin’ I didn’t like Granny Thibodeau.”
“Granny Désprés, you mean.”
“No, Granny Thibodeau!”
Now Terry was completely confused about the details of the imagined poisoning, but he concluded that the result was the same, one way or the other.
“Well anyhow, you’re doin’ de proper ting tellin’ me when der’s sometin’ worryin’ you. ’Tisn’t a good idea to keep tings like dat bottled up inside. Alright?”
“I know, Dad. You already told me that.”
1684.132.6
Malapropism
Chico doesn’t like things being put away under his bed, thereby preventing the dust from going where it will. It makes him feel like he’s suffocating.
1685.88.2
Freedom
“Can we go back to wot we was sayin’ before?”
“Of course.”
“Colourin’ de spaces inside letters, wouldn’t dat be like puttin’ de golf ball in de hole? Wot I mean, ’as no one ever said der could be some sort o’ link atwixt playin’ golf an’ fear of de void?”
“Interesting question . . .”
“(Friggin’ right!)”
“I am not aware of such a link ever having been made. It certainly merits looking up. If not, it would be an excellent topic for study.”
. . .
“Just in passing, the hole on the green in golf is called ‘une oubliette,’ or ‘forgotten place,’ a dungeon accessible only through a hole in the ceiling.”
“G’wan wid ya!”
“Yer pullin’ our leg!”
1686.141.11
Obsessions
“No way!”
“Well, right der, see! De word oubliette tells you der’s sometin’ to be fergotten. Dat could be de void dat frightens, right?”
Essentially, “useless details” are useless because they come too late.
1687.45.6
Useless Details
Zed and Terry were once more alone on the road in Zed’s truck. They enjoyed moments like these.
“It’s got so anybody at all can be bisexual dese days. Even Carmen says ’twouldn’t bodder ’er to be sleepin’ wid anudder woman.”
Zed pulled his tumbler of hot coffee quickly away from his lips. Oblivious, Terry continued:
“Not dat I’s sayin’ Carmen is just anybody at all. I’m only saying dat even she’s talkin’ like dat.”
Zed thought for a moment, but could see nothing alarming in it:
“Most likely, der’s not dat many folks nowadays dat’s all one or all de udder.”
Terry went even further:
“Sometimes, I tries to imagine how much farder tings could go.”
1688.125.11
Sexuality
Zed tried for a moment to imagine a future society, but unable to conjure up much, went back to imagining Carmen in the arms of a woman.
Names and places of origin of the first French colonists to settle in the colony that came to be known as Acadia.
1689.57.8
Photocopies
Étienne couldn’t quite describe what he’d seen.
“Roads? What sort of roads?”
“Lots of roads.”
Terry tried to help him out:
“Like a whole lot o’ roads all tangled up togedder?”
“No. Dey weren’t tangled.”
. . .
“An’ wot about you, where was you?”
Étienne took a mouthful of his peanut butter and jam covered toast.
“Were you in a car or was you walkin’?”
Étienne shrugged.
“Were you alone, den?”
Étienne didn’t know.
“Were you feelin’ alright?”
Étienne nodded, adding:
“It was never the same road.”
Terry was almost tired of the guessing game, and thought he might bring the discussion to a close with some kind of general conclusion about dreams, but Étienne wasn’t quite done:
“One time, it was like in a field, we were comin’ down a hill. Der were trees.”
“Was it a field or trees? I don’t understand . . .”
Étienne nodded.
“Den after, der was no more hill, only sky. Only ’twas a road all de same.”
Considering the general confusion, Terry decided to deliver his general conclusion:
“Sometimes we can understand our dreams, an’ udder times we can’t. You just have to leave dem be in yer head. An’ sometimes we forget dem, udder times dey erase demselves, an udder dreams replace dem.”
1690.109.1
Dreams
Étienne nodded.
“I know.”
Where economy and religion meet: he who sings prays twice (dixit Saint Augustine).
1691.124.12
Religion
“Mum, wot’s neck’s ear?”
“Wot?”
“Neck’s ear. (Cloc)”
Carmen thought for a moment, but nothing came to mind.
“Who is it said that?”
“Cloc clac cloc . . .”
Carmen insisted:
1692.123.8
Carmen and Étienne
“Was it someone on de television?”
“Yes. Ask for yours and see the difference neck’s ear.”
And again, thanks to the Visual dictionary, a gift from Zed: dump truck – camion benne, crane – grue, cement truck – bétonnière.
1693.111.5
Tools
Terry realized in just how fine a form he was that day, when he saw Alphonse Lemaître, aka LeSage(!) open the door to the bookstore. Needless to say, the retired professor was not one to invite familiarity, and — of this Terry was convinced — he was always asking for books he knew were not on the shelves.
“Is der sometin’ I can do fer you today?”
Terry had no trouble accepting the occasional criticism from clients, but he was wary of people who never had anything nice or even polite to say. What’s more, he had some experience with this particular pretentious client — Alphonse Lemaître aka LeSage(!!) — who was always careful to pronounce every word perfectly, as though he hailed from Versailles rather than Shediac.
“No, I’m not looking for anything in particular, I simply wanted to look over your new arrivals.”
Terry looked for the dig, but held off jumping to conclusions. Still, he was happy he’d restocked his shelves the day before. At the same time, he had something entirely different in mind for the elderly gentleman.
“I’ve got sometin’ ’ere might interest you . . .”
It was the first time Terry had ventured onto Alphonse Lemaître aka LeSage’s territory.
“Ah, do you, now?”
Terry took note of the professor emeritus’ ambiguous tone, even thought he detected a kind of malicious pleasure.
“Somebody was tellin’ me you used to teach Baudelaire at the university . . .”
“Yes . . .”
Lemaître aka LeSage seemed unhappy to learn people were talking about him in his absence.
“I found dis ’ere old copy of de Flowers of Evil. Doesn’t look to me like sometin’ all dat easy to get hold of . . .”
Terry showed the book to the professor, who took it with a mixture of hesitation and haste that betrayed his interest and his surprise.
“Came from a fellow brought me a couple of boxes of old books ee didn’t want.”
“Ah, did he?”
Alphonse Lemaître aka LeSage examined the volume’s every stitch, and was obliged to admit:
“So, you’re on the lookout for rare books, then . . .”
It was the first time the old professor had shown any interest at all in Terry.
“I’m startin . . .”
But Alphonse Lemaître aka LeSage quickly interrupted the last syllable of the second word Terry had uttered, as though he was suddenly afraid that . . .
“Yes, of course, I’ll take it.”
Terry didn’t move, which seemed to destabilize Lemaître aka LeSage.
“It is for sale, I presume.”
“Well, dat’s just it. I hadn’t made up me mind wot I’s gonna do wid it.”
“Ah, is that right?”
“An when you tink wot it’s wort’, well . . .”
“You know it’s value?”
“I’ve a pretty good idea. Wid de Internet nowadays . . .”
Alphonse Lemaître aka LeSage gave him a little twisted grin; he suddenly knew, this time he would not come out on top.
1694.99.8
Names
Zed doesn’t like to lose the drawings that Shawn sends Chico. He recovers them quietly, and shows them to Zablonski.
1695.128.4
Fervours
“An’ by de way, I started dis whole ting all on me own dis time. I’m tellin’ you on account of I wouldn’t want you to go blamin’ Zed.”
Carmen had long ago accepted the fact that Terry and Zed were in some way inseparable, spiritual brothers.
“No, I’ve known for a while that you’re perfectly capable of having your own hare-brained ideas.”
As she spoke, Carmen drew Terry to her for a hug.
He hugged her tenderly.
“Hare-brained, eh? Hmmm . . .”
Carmen laughed. To Terry, that was a good sign.
1696.94.12
Terry and Carmen
For Zablonski, Shawn’s drawings complete the squaring of the circle. The artist who, in spite of himself, served as the inspiration for the Prizon Art movement, now discovers, purely by chance, the drawings of an unknown prisoner who is groping in the world of the sign. Zablonski notices that the figures are always composed of five strokes, but he doesn’t notice that they are all headless.
1697.56.11
Pilgrimages
“Dad, do computers tink?”
Terry looked at his son in the rear-view mirror:
“No, not yet. Far as I know, anyhow.”
“Well den, wot do dey do?”
“Dey makes connections. Dey can be puttin’ millions an’ millions of wee scraps togedder, only we has to be de one’s tellin’ dem wot to do. On der own, dey wouldn’t be doin’ it.”
Terry thought his explanation sounded plausible; he continued, conscious that he was enjoying listening to himself talk:
“Like, a computer can only be tinkin’ wot somebody programmed it to tink. We human bein’s, we tinks fer ourselves.”
At that moment, Terry glanced at his son in the rearview mirror to see if he was listening. The boy was looking at him, too.
“Do you understand wot I mean?”
The child nodded yes, and added:
“Me, I like to think. Only der’s times I don’t know how.”
“Dat’s on account of yer still young. You’ll learn, don’t you worry. Dat’s part o’ growin’ up.”
Le Petit Étienne agreed and turned his gaze toward the exterior.
1698.110.10
A Day Off
We
ll, I’ll be darned: I’ve reread To Kill a Mockingbird by the American Harper Lee, and I admit I can’t decide if I would include the book in my additions to the La Bibliothèque idéale. I suppose I’ll have to read it a third time. I can’t believe it.
1699.95.9
Additions to La Bibliothèque idéale
“Luh, Dad, looks like der’s somebody campin’ o’er der.”
Terry answered absent-mindedly:
“Where’s dat?”
“Der! In de trees!”
Étienne’s vaguely overexcited tone woke Terry from his reverie; he looked over toward his right. After a moment of observation:
“You know wot, boy, I tink yer right.”
On the shore of the Hall stream, at the mouth of the Petitcodiac, someone had built themselves a discrete shelter in the brush between the pine trees.
“Mostly likely, ’tis a body hasn’t got a house.”
Another few seconds of observing passed.
“Or else somebody on de road.”
“Is he gonna be building hisself a fire?”
“Awh, might be. Only chances are de police’ll be movin’ ’im out o’ der.”
“On account of?”
“Well, dey doesn’t want folks settlin’ in anywhere dey please.”
“On account of?”
. . .
1700.110.11
A Day Off
All of a sudden the absolute certitude that I should be writing “pélerinages” rather than “pèlerinages.” Is it merely a question of the accent? A sudden feeling of not knowing where one stands.
1701.56.7
Pilgrimages
“Dad, are we’s gonna sleep in de tent in Caraquet?”
“Are we gonna be sleepin’. Are we gonna be sleepin’ in de tent in Caraquet . . .”
“Well? Are we gonna?”
“No. We’re gonna be sleepin’ in a house where they’ll be makin’ our breakfast. Dat’s a whole lot o’ fun as well, you’ll see.”
Étienne had never imagined that breakfast . . .
“Dad!”
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