For a few days every year — but only a few — writers feel they are valued and that they do not live in a society in which people read less and less and are generally wary of the written and spoken word. These blessed days are known as the Montreal Book Fair (Le Salon du livre), which ended last week. Poets, playwrights, essayists, storytellers, novelists, illustrators, everyone, they’re all there. Most for “signings” of their latest books; the rest (such as myself) to meet up with the wordsmith friends they only occasionally see, and to rub shoulders with the anonymous readers that file past the various stands and displays.
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— Translation by Nathan Rao.
Editor notes: Quebec-based commentator Gil Courtemanche’s column is published every two weeks in Le Devoir. It appears at rabble.ca with permission.
Gil Courtemanche writes in French. As many of you read French, we’re offering you a chance to read Gil’s commentaries in the language in which they’re written. Please continue to let rabble know what you think of this approach.
Bonheurs et Déception au Salon du Livre
Quelques jours durant l’ann
