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"The Love of Lies" 1989
- University of Ottawa Press
- Chapter
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Claude-Emmanuelle Yance Translated by David Homel THE LOVE OF LIES Claude-Emmanuelle Yancewasborn in Quebec City. She moved to the French island of Nouvelle-Caledonie, where she lived for nine years, and then spent two yearsin Paris before returning to Quebec. Although she acknowledgesthe influences of the South Pacific as well as of Paris in her linguistic arsenal,it is to the land and the people of Quebec that she responds most fully as awriter. "When I returned to Quebec," she has said, "I understood that what filled me up and made me the kind of writer that I am was the land here, the nature here. I might have fewer words, fewer images, fewer tools at my disposal here, but my territory as a writer, my interior landscape, was created for me in Quebec." Yance's first collection of short stories, Mourir commeun chat, was published in 1987 by L'Instant meme, the publishing house started by Gilles Pellerin. The book won the Prix Adrienne-Choquette and identified Yanceas "one of the most promising of Quebec's young writers." The present story, "L'amour du mensonge," translated by David Homel as "The Love of Lies," was first published in XYZ in 1989 and is part of a second collection oflinked stories called Vous avez des nouvelks de Baudelaire? (Have You Heard from Baudelaire?).The new series of stories was suggested to Yance by "L'Etranger," one of the stories included in her first collection, in which a short prose poem by Charles Baudelairehaunts the central character andchanges her life. "What I am looking for in these new stories,"Yance stated, "is to pit the poems of Baudelaire against contemporary situations and characters,to see what the result will be." "The Love of Lies" is a translation of "L'amour du mensonge" published in XYZ, no. 18 (summer 1989). 390 CLAUDE-EMMANUELLE YANCE Would it not suffice that you be the appearance To charm a heart in flight from truth? Charles Beaudelaire, LesFleurs du Mai f lowers of Evil. Some of you have already done this research. Your relevant commentary, we feel sure, will guide us through this wonderful labyrinth that may eventually lead us—or may not—to the quintessence of the poem. Yes, please, speak.. . Youin the middle ..." ... in this little restaurant. Right here, across theway, at the corner of Rue d'Assas and Vaugirard, for example. The big foggy bay windows on this rainy day. The invisible wall of warm air you push through as you go inside. The smells, sharp yet fleeting. I'll have to wait for him, I'm sure. Take a table that's not too isolated, but not too near other people. Display an attentive, preoccupied expression as I read the menu. Or, better, don't read anything at all, let your eyes wander with studied casualness. Don't let him catch you in the act of being preoccupied. Relax, give the impression of serenity and self-assurance. And while you're at it, pay attention to what you wear that day, choose calm, discreet colours. Blue, for instance. Nothing that might make him nervous or fluster him. Turn your back to the door, don't look as though you were waiting for him, but thanks to the mirrors, you will knowexactly when he comes through the door. Don't leave anything to chance, avoid the little quiver of surprise. Put all the solidity in the world on your side. There he is. He slips into the booth, both hands on the table, leaning in my direction. A smile. His blue eyes are a little misty. Then comes the way he pulls back, as if a smile was too great a gift. He says he doesn't have much time, he grabs the menu, asks me if I've ordered. I have to choose: either blurt out the words or slow my rhythm even further. Let him snatch me up, or drag him along behind. Freed from the waiter, he seems to collapse upon himself . Now's the time to please him. Casually at first, open the THE LOVE OF LIES 391 [54.242.75.224] Project MUSE (2024-03-19 15:02 GMT) door to questions about his work and research. Listen to him, try to ask only the right questions, those that best hide how little I know about the area, and get him going on to new explanations. A delicate moment. He could completely lose me in this...