Log Cabin Quilt Top
4 months ago
Blogue d'un québécois expatrié en Angleterre. Comme toute forme d'autobiographie est constituée d'une large part de fiction, j'ai décidé de nommer le blogue Vraie Fiction.
Because of St Paddy's Day yesterday, which I could not celebrate fully, I decided to give my readers a bit of reading suggestion. Not Irish literature, but literature about Irish people: Montreal's Irish Mafia. Under the title: The true story of the infamous West End Gang. I blogged about it before, but then I had not read it. Since then, I did. And I can tell you it is an amazing book, maybe my favourite book about Montreal's crime history. In spite of its title, it's not so much about the Irish mafia, which never formally existed in Montreal anyway (one of the big ironies about it), as it is about Montreal's organized and sometimes disorganized crime, through its Irish criminal elements. But it goes beyond the Irish community to show Montreal crime life through its various gangs and national groups, marked by their alliances, tensions and sometimes wars. The motto of the city is Concordia Salus, which means Salvation through Harmony. This book shows the dark, ironic twist of the motto. Montreal's Irish Mafia is an epic, true crime saga that has enough material for a few crime novels.
Lors de mon dernier séjour à Montréal, j'ai visité une de ses instutions de fast food haut-de-gamme que je n'avais pas visitée depuis un bail: je parle de Frite Alors!. C'était à l'initiative de mon frère Andrew. Le défunt Eurosnack, l'Anecdote, les autres chaînes et restaurants spécialisés dans le fast food embourgeoisé ont toutes finalement emprunté la formule et le menu de Frite Alors. Et il n'y a pas plus embourgeoisé qu'un burger rebaptisé hambourgeois. Avec fromage suisse, mayo, moutarde de Dijon et une olive pour coiffer le burger. Les frites sont accompagnées de mayonnaise au curry. Quand je dis embourgeoisé, c'est ce que je veux dire. Tout est comme plus luxueux, rehaussé, de plus haute qualité, gentrifié... Et c'est bon.
Happy Saint Patrick's Day everyone! It is ending in a few hours here. I explained the sad situation I am in this year in this post earlier today. But I can still celebrate Ireland through its music and share it with you. I know I upload Molly Malone almost every year, but this is the first Irish song I've ever heard and I love it dearly. Take it as a tradition on this blog. Saint Paddy's Day would not be the same without it anyway. The picture on your right was taken in Dublin in March 2000, sixteen years ago. It was a moving moment to meet Dublin's most famous lady... and most famous ghost.
This picture dates back from March 2000. I took it during my visit in Dublin, from a throwaway camera that was quite popular at the time, but it was a poor quality one, so it was a poor picture. Do you recognize him, even in the shadow? Yes, it is James Joyce. Well, the statue of him. Shame on me, I only ever read one short story of Dubliners from him. I have Ulysses somewhere among my books back home, which I promised myself I'd read one day. Anyway, it is Saint Patrick's Day tomorrow, so I thought I'd share this picture of James Joyce for the occasion.
During my last time in Montreal, I gave myself a few nostalgic and geeky gifts: some medieval fantasy gamebooks, like the ones I used to buy with my pocket money when I was a child. I used to get through as many of them as I could and it is my love for them that got me into Dungeons & Dragons. Among the books I bought in Montreal was The Lord of Shadow Keep by Oliver Johnson. As a child I had always wanted to read it, because of the gorgeously sinister cover picture. I've seen a more recent cover on Amazon, quite nice, but too adult. This one is classic. The book is part of the Golden Dragon series. I don't know for the original English, but in the French book there is an introduction saying that you are the titular Golden Dragon, a seasoned adventurer who gained a great reputation through many great deeds... although nobody in the books ever refer to you by that surname or even mentions this reputation you have. And the books are independent from each other. In fact, they are so independent from each other that you seem to have a completely different background in every one of them.
Malgré ce qu'en dit la chanson enfantine qui m'a tant fait aimer cette bête, ces furets-là ne courent pas. Ils étaient dans une animaleri à Chicoutimi, j'y avais mis les pieds lors de mon dernier passage en ville. Après la présence du saurien, c'est celle des furets qui m'a le plus étonné. Elle ne devrait pourtant pas: c'est un animal exclusivement domestique. Le furet a des cousins à l'état sauvage, hermines, belettes, visons, mais on ne retrouve pas de furets à l'état sauvage naturellement. Ce qui rend le furet qui court de la chanson encore plus incongru. C'était peut-être un furet de chasse. Ceux-ci deviendront sans doute des animaux de compagnie. Ce qui est quand même encore original.
This evening, my wife and had dinner with friends, their ten year old daughter and their daughter's friend (yes, I mean the Ticklers). After dinner, the girls tried to tickle me, without success (I did not laugh, for some reason), so as it was getting late and bedtime was near they asked me to tell them a story, "a scary story." They adore scary stories, especially when I tell them. I even learned that they tell them after to each other and their friends. So I decided to tell them from memory a story I got from La Légende de la Mort by Anatole Le Braz, a story about l'Ankou, the henchman of death in Breton folklore, which you can see on the front cover of the version I have of the book, holding his trademark scythe with the upside down blade. I am fascinated with this character. Without giving too much away, it was a story where a few young drunk Bretons make the mistake to pull a prank on an unknown traveler they hear coming by cart on an old pathway. They throw a dead tree on the middle of the way. Bad idea, as the traveler turns out to be... Anyway, I don't know if I managed to recreate the atmosphere of the original, but they loved it all the same. If they don't have nightmares tonight (and they don't get scared easily), I think I might tell them another story about l'Ankou next time.