Gender runs through this novel—or is it fictionalized memoir?—this “world where no one spoke of men, they were not a subject of conversation because they didn’t really exist…”
The beauty of the world cannot be expressed in one language alone, always the same. And a poem by Anne Hébert can even speak to the goof-off seated in the last row of the class of a regular high school in a Danish village.
“I walked from one apartment block to the other, trying to find a trace of your existence. It’s stupid, I know. But I was hoping that the happiness you guys felt forty years ago would have been set in the bricks or concrete, imprisoned in the reflection of the tiles..”
Michel Laprise makes history come alive, lifting statistics and players from the heyday of the Toronto Maple Leafs and Montreal Canadiens off the page and bringing them to life, blending fact and fiction to describe the theft of Lord Stanley’s Cup.
“I’ve stopped bringing my body out with me again. I date men who don’t have bodies and I pretend I don’t either.”
“She falls asleep with you, at night. Sees your morning waffle. Smells your fresh-out-of-the-shower scent and knows how water beads on your skin just before you wrap yourself up in a towel.”