Quebec, I Hardly Know You

Not having spent much time in Quebec, I am intrigued by the mystery it represents.  The impressions I have cobbled together through news reports, films, novels, short visits, and various encounters with Quebecois may be relatively distorted.  I look forward to a short trip to Quebec this summer, during which the province might surrender a few more of its secrets. 

The impression of Quebec that transpires through novels by Marie-Claire Blais, Anne Hebert, and others leads me to believe that it's not so different from the upper Midwest of the US where I grew up.  Snowbound winters, alcoholism, and the pervasive influence of Catholic Church are all familiar themes.  However, my favorite films from Quebec (especially those of Denys Arcand) remind me that Quebec fiercely differentiates itself from its neighbor to the south. 

Another contradiction in my blurry image is that Quebec seems in some ways more French than France, but in other ways wants to maintain a separate identity.   You sometimes hear Quebecers talk about the stereotype of the "Francais chiant," but it is not clear to me which aspects of the French they deplore.  It can't be enjoyable to hear a French speaker from the hexagon mock the "accent quebecois." 

But how can one not admire French speakers in Quebec and border areas for reclaiming the prestige of the French language despite years of economic discrimination, ridicule and political attacks.  Quebec went to the absolute brink of secession in the referendum of 1996, showing the world how serious they were about maintaining their francophone identity.  Nearly ten years have elapsed without another referendum, and news reports indicate that both the English and French-speaking communities there have more deeply embraced bilingualism as a solution to their longstanding cultural breach. 

Adding yet another layer of complexity to the question of identity is the intensely multicultural nature of the population.  This aspect of Quebec makes it a dynamic and cosmopolitan place, rather than the backwater that people may sometimes imagine.

One of the most promising young teachers I ever worked with, Lise, hailed from the university and paper mill town of Trois-Rivieres.  She impressed me with her synthesis of European and North American savoir-faire, seeming to embody the best qualities of both cultures.  Like a European, she was stylish, cultured, and curious about the world.  Her wool coats and scarves were chic enough to make one actually welcome bitterly cold winter weather.  At the same time, Lise was gregarious, unpretentious and adaptable, seemingly unbound by the constraints of French culture.

I look forward to sitting on a cool terrace in Quebec next month, sampling a local monastery cheese with a real baguette.  I will delight in the musical lilt of the French language as it is spoken there, and enjoy for a few days the lifestyle that these people of mostly Breton stock have honed on the North American continent since the 17th century. 

Comments

[Michele]

Do you have a sense of how much the Quebecois still identify with their Breton heritage? I spent a majority of my time in France in Rennes, and la Bretagne is my favorite region of all. Les Bretons are the most independent of all the French, I think, and have worked very hard to maintain their Celtic identity and language while being a part of France. I wonder if the Quebecois fierceness to maintain their identity is primarily because they're Breton and they have an independent streak that won't quit.

[expatraveler]

What a small world. My fiance is from Trois-Rivieres as well. It seems I see these qualities in him as well "Like a European, she was stylish, cultured, and curious about the world. Her wool coats and scarves were chic enough to make one actually welcome bitterly cold winter weather." Not sure if it's coincidence or how they grew up in Trois-Rivieres, but I'm glad I've got a pretty chic man.