“Vamos a hablar de un poco de todo.” We’re going to talk about a bit of everything. There are around 25 of us at Volver, the café on avenue du Parc that has been converted into a venue for Blue Metropolis, or, in tonight’s case, Metropolis azul. This evening’s discussion is about contemporary Argentine literature. The panelists are Pablo de Santis, Cecilia Pisos, and Daniel Castillo Durante, all Argentine writers, although Castillo Durante lives in Ottawa and writes in French.
I am surprised that it takes almost half an hour before someone mentions Borges. but once he has been brought up, he stays in the conversation. Like many panels at Blue Met that I have seen over the years, the discussion is interesting but not very coherent. Talk ranges from children’s literature from Argentina and around the world; the legacy of Borges and Bioy Casares; Argentina’s predilection for literature of the fantastic; writing as a “trans-linguistic phenomenon;” and the effects of globalization on the world of publishing. My guess is that the majority of the audience is Argentine. There is an intimacy in the room as if everyone knows what each other is thinking, or at least what language they are thinking it in. The youngest member of the audience is just four years old, but she is not to be underestimated. According to her grandmother, she already speaks 4 languages. The spirit of Borges is alive and well and living in Montreal.
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“Like any good party,” said founder Linda Leith at Blue Met’s opening ceremony, this one is “ full of people you know and people you would like to get to know.” Indeed, within a few minutes of arriving I spotted several of each among those milling about waiting for a free glass of wine and a good A.S. Byatt anecdote. Among those in attendance: Montreal landmark Phyllis Lambert, looking well-coiffed (“She is an architect,” someone said. “She has great structural integrity.”); the power-translation couple Phyllis Aronoff and Howard Scott; local grand dame Ann Charney; the indomitable Eleanor Wachtel; literary critic and co-host Jean Fugère; and, of course, Dame Antonia herself who was there to receive this year’s Grand Prix. The usual hubbub of idle chitchat … what, someone wondered, does the “S” in Byatt’s name stand for? (Susan).
After the speeches, jokes, and overviews of festivals past and present, Dame Antonia ascended to the stage and treated us to a few personal stories, including the sad news of the death of her translator, Jean-Louis Chevalier, who, she said, “died just before Christmas, on the shortest day of the year.” She read first in French from one of Chevalier’s translations, and then in English from her new novel, The Children’s Book. The audience became silent and still, like children falling under the spell of a bedtime story. She received a standing ovation.
