Le territoire sauvage de l'âme by Jean-François Létourneau

Abstract

Reviewed by: Le territoire sauvage de l'âme by Jean-François Létourneau Joseph A. Reiter LÉtourneau, Jean-FranÇois. Le territoire sauvage de l'âme. Boréal, 2021. ISBN 978-2-7646-2675-7. Pp. 144. This homage to the Inuit people and culture also celebrates the wilds of the province of Québec, family, fatherhood, storytelling, and (perhaps not surprisingly) hockey. Largely autobiographical, the author successfully employs and alternates two modes of narration—the singular tu, with an effective use of the present tense, to chronicle alter ego Guillaume's first years of teaching in Nunavik, and the third-person il, to recount family life with his wife and three children a decade or so later in their forest home in southern Québec. Readers might google maps to follow Guillaume's movements. Air travel was and remains the sole manner to reach Nunavik's towns, since no connecting roads exist, and once landed it is difficult for an outsider not to feel isolated or exiled. Add to this language—the Inuit of Kuujjuaq, old and young alike, communicate in Inuktitut, which Guillaume discovers during his initial flight from Montréal with a large group of teenagers. He earnestly wants to understand the conversation—"Tu aimerais leur parler, ne peux que leur sourire" (11)—but he can only guess the meaning, and over his four years in Kuujjuaq he will many times misinterpret what he hears, at times even when spoken in French. This of course will make for humorous tales he relates to his children in the prospector's tent erected in the woods behind his home. Guillaume was raised by a widowed father in the last house on a rang in a village in les Cantons de l'Est, now referred to as l'Estrie. The father told stories, sang—"un air traditionnel pour chaque moment du quotidien" (14)—chopped wood, worked the land, loved nature, and imparted that ethos to his son. Guillaume, to pay his way through college, planted hundreds of trees during summers in northern Ontario, where his yearning for the far North took hold: "Tu as voulu le Nord comme un vide à combler" (35). He does not make much headway with his students nor feel at ease for months after arriving. One Saturday night he heads to the hockey arena (Jean-François Létourneau was a champion hockey player) with skates and equipment and manages to be invited to play. His prowess stuns the players and crowd and opens the door to friendships and acceptance by the community. He will experience life with extended families, hunt caribou, camp on the tundra, learn legends, read the stars, and intensify his love for the environment and for traditional ways. Guillaume realizes he has learned much more than he was able to impart in his courses, perhaps expressing what many teachers feel: "J'ai l'impression de vous avoir pris quelque chose sans rien laisser en retour" (131). His decision to return to l'Estrie is viewed as a betrayal by the town and at departure he cannot adequately express his gratitude nor say farewell. Létourneau's poetic and poignant novel beautifully accomplishes that task: "Votre pays est magnifique, vous êtes magnifiques […] vous m'avez appris à rire. Vous m'avez appris à vivre" (131). [End Page 251] Joseph A. Reiter Phillips Exeter Academy (NH), emeritus Copyright © 2022 American Association of Teachers of French