Mavis Gallant is the kind of woman I’d like to take to tea. Or better yet, kir royale and a sneaky Gitanes in a Parisienne sidewalk cafe, where I would sit and listen as she unfolded the lives of all those who walked by. This is an author with exceptionally acute powers of observation.
James recommended Mavis Gallant’s work to me last year knowing I love short stories and clean, concise writing – and I do appreciate her for that – but it’s her own story, not those she has written, that so warms me to Ms. Gallant. Born in Montréal in 1922, she moved to Paris in 1950 to write short stories for a living. Can you imagine? A 28 year-old divorcée skipping continent on a solo mission when the rest of the world was coupling up and settling down behind picket fences. And the most inspiring bit? She succeeded. In 1978 she referred to her “life project” and said, “I have arranged matters so that I would be free to write. It’s what I like doing.” (Source: Wikipedia)
The self-awareness and autonomy I find so admirable in Ms. Gallant’s character surface in her writing as a sharpness of vision. Writing is what she does, and she turns her whole focus to it. There’s no sentimentality here, no reason to soften rough edges or manufacture closure. Characters are almost uniformly flawed, and stories just end where they end. Some, like the title story Going Ashore, wrap round and sort of close off that chapter in anticipation of a new one, but the majority end where the pieces fall. I liked that about this collection.
Ms. Gallant has an exceptional eye for detail, and though some of her stories now feel too dated, their subtleties too subtle for a modern reader – what was risqué then reads a little less so now – the best stories in this collection still feel real and relevant. Human dramas – unwanted pregnancies, mental illness, loneliness, cultural isolation – don’t change that much from one generation to the next.
The Rejection, a short piece about an inept father’s attempt to reach his daughter even as she casts him aside for another guardian reveals much about the intellectual and practical challenges of being a parent. Changing oneself into an adult isn’t easy:
“He was dealing with a child, he suddenly recalled; it was not a father’s business to please for justice but to dispense it. Pride, yes, pride was important, but he was not to give up his role.”
As much as a I found it difficult to read, The Cost of Living was another of my favourite pieces in the collection. An examination of loneliness and unbelonging, it had me wringing my hands as spinster Louise, moral compass spinning after a doomed affair, spends and spends her limited inheritance on a lost cause. Ms. Gallant isn’t the first writer to tell of people who try to salve guilt and hurt with spending and reinvention, but she does it exceptionally well.
One thing that struck me about this collection is that it focuses mainly on suburban and rural life, while the author is very much urban, having lived in Paris most of her working life. I suppose, though, that our storytelling tools are gathered early, as we are still taking the world in, and Ms. Gallant’s were gathered on the suburban streets of Montréal. She built on them in later life, but they were shaped early, as most of ours are.
Final comment: if you’re looking for an introduction to Ms. Gallant’s work, start here and be sure to read the Editor’s Note by Douglas Gibson, the author’s longtime friend and colleague. Gibson tracked down each of the stories in this collection and brought them together before the author when ill health prevented her from doing so herself – a touching backstory to a very impressive selection of work.
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