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"The Goldfish" 1970
- University of Ottawa Press
- Chapter
- Additional Information
Roch Carrier Translated by Sheila Fischman THEGOLDFISH Roch Carrier was born in Sainte-Justine-de-Dorchester on May 13, 1937, and studied at the College Saint-Louis in Edmunston, New Brunswick, a city where he also worked as a journalist from 1958 to 1960. He attended the universities of Montreal, Paris, and the Sorbonne, where he received his Ph.D. in literature for a dissertation on Blaise Cendrars, and in 1965 began teaching at the RoyalMilitary College in Saint-Jean, south of Montreal. He has since served as president of the annual Salon du Livre in Montreal and as resident dramatist at Montreal's Theatre du Nouveau Monde; he is currently director of the Canada Council in Ottawa. Carrier's first two books were of poetry, Lesjeux incompris (1956) and Cherche tes mots, cherchetespas (1958), but since then he has published fiction, mostly novels but also plays and several collections of short stories. His bestknown novels in English are the trilogy La Guerre, Yes sir! (1968), Floralie, ou es-tu? (1969; Floralie, Where Are You?, 1970), and // estpar la, le soldi (1970; There's the Sun, Philibert, 1971), all translated by Sheila Fischman. His other novels include Lejardin desdelices (1975; Garden of Delights, 1978); La Dame qui avail deschames aux chevilles (1981; Lady with Chains, 1984); De Vamour dans laferraille (1984; Heartbreaks along the Road, 1987); and Fin (1994; The End, 1994). Carrier's short fiction has achieved a wide audience in both French and English Canada. His first collection, Jolts deuils, appeared in 1964 and won the Prix litteraire de la province de Quebec. His other collections includeLes Enfants du bonhomme dans la lune (1978; The Hockey Sweater and Other Stories, 1979), and Prieres d'un enfant tres tressage (1988; Prayers of a Very Wise Child, 1991). "Le poisson rouge" ("The Goldfish," as Sheila Fischman has translated the tide), first appearedin the 268 ROCH CARRIER anthology Nouvelles du Quebec, edited by Katherine Brearley and Rose-Blanche McBride in 1970. A magical story, it shows Carrier's early fascination with the child-like naivete and wonder through which profound truths are often discovered . It is interesting to trace in Carrier's work the development of this theme—the adult world seen clearly from a child's point of view—from this early story to such similar works as Prayers of a Very Wise Child. "The Goldfish" is a translation of "Le poisson rouge" published in Nouvelles du Quebec(Scarborough: Prentice-Hall of Canada, 1970). THE GOLDFISH 269 [3.85.63.190] Project MUSE (2024-03-19 03:57 GMT) T onight my father and I are entertaining my mother and her husband at our house. My girlfriends at school didn't think it was funny when I told them my father and I were entertaining my mother and her new husband. I think it's a good idea. In the past, my father and I would meet my mother in a restaurant. They would have me served a Chateau Champlain sundae: ice cream of every flavour and colour, butterscotch, chocolate, marshmallow, with grenadine syrup, fresh strawberries, cherries, walnuts, sliced banana and pineapple, green grapes and raisins—and a chocolate milkshake to drink. My father and mother would exchange trite rernarks of no interest either to me or to them. While I ate my sundae. When they ran out of things to tell each other they would speak to me: "Be careful, sweetheart. You're going to make an ugly stain on your dress." And I would reply: "I am so glad to be here with both of you." They believed me. "She's delightful," my mother declared. "My daughter would feel at home at an ambassador's table." "Our daughter," my mother corrected him. "How are you getting along?" he asked, concerned. "I'm gradually getting back on my feet. It's been hard, you know." My father felt sorry for his poor wife who had left us. "Life isn't easy, alas!" Having listed all their principles and their sorrows, they had nothing left to say to one another. My father twirled his cup in his saucer. That nervous habit used to annoy my mother when she was living with us; now she seems to put up with it more easily. My father concentrated on his game; my mother smoked cigarettes. Then all at once my fatherresurfaced: "Don't be greedy, angel." 270 ROCH CARRIER "A pretty girl like you has a duty to be refined," my mother added...