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In the Village of Viger (New Canadian Library), by Duncan Campbell Scott
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The ten stories in In the Village of Viger portray the life of a rural village as it faces the darkness of its own future. An established milliner, Madame Laroque, is upset by the advent of a younger, more popular rival. An innkeeper’s obsession with the Franco-Prussian War drives his descent into madness. A gardener longs to return to the village in France where his mother was born. At once comical, farcical, and tragic, this superb collection, first published in 1896, anticipates later collections of linked short stories including Alice Munro’s Who Do You Think You Are? and Margaret Laurence’s A Bird in the House.
- Sales Rank: #3117549 in eBooks
- Published on: 2009-01-13
- Released on: 2009-01-13
- Format: Kindle eBook
About the Author
Duncan Campbell Scott (1862 1947) was a Canadian writer of poetry and prose as well as an accomplished pianist. Born and raised in Ottawa, he published numerous works that include The Circle of Affection, New World Lyrics and Ballads, and The Green Cloister. In 1927 he was awarded the Lorne Pierce Medal for his contributions to Canadian literature.
Excerpt. � Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
It was too true that the city was growing rapidly. As yet its arms were not long enough to embrace the little village of Viger, but before long they would be, and it was not a time that the inhabitants looked forward to with any pleasure. It was not to be wondered at, for few places were more pleasant to live in. The houses, half-hidden amid the trees, clustered around the slim steeple of St. Joseph’s, which flashed like a naked poniard in the sun. They were old, and the village was sleepy, almost dozing, since the mill, behind the rise of land, on the Blanche had shut down. The miller had died; and who would trouble to grind what little grist came to the mill, when flour was so cheap? But while the beech-groves lasted, and the Blanche continued to run, it seemed impossible that any change could come. The change was coming, however, rapidly enough. Even now, on still nights, above the noise of the frogs in the pools, you could hear the rumble of the streetcars and the faint tinkle of their bells, and when the air was moist the whole southern sky was luminous with the reflection of thousands of gas-lamps. But when the time came for Viger to be mentioned in the city papers as one of the outlying wards, what a change there would be! There would be no unfenced fields, full of little inequalities and covered with short grass; there would be no deep pools, where the quarries had been, and where the boys pelted the frogs; there would be no more beech-groves, where the children could gather nuts; and the dread pool, which had filled the shaft where old Daigneau, years ago, mined for gold, would cease to exist. But in the meantime, the boys of Viger roamed over the unclosed fields and pelted the frogs, and the boldest ventured to roll huge stones into Daigneau’s pit, and only waited to see the green slime come working up to the surface before scampering away, their flesh creeping with the idea that it was old Daigneau himself who was stirring up the water in a rage.
New houses had already commenced to spring up in all directions, and there was a large influx of the laboring population which overflows from large cities. Even on the main street of Viger, on a lot which had been vacant ever since it was a lot, the workmen had built a foundation. After a while it was finished, when men from the city came and put up the oddest wooden house that one could imagine. It was perfectly square; there was a window and a door in front, a window at the side, and a window upstairs. There were many surmises as to the probable occupant of such a diminutive habitation; and the widow Laroque, who made dresses and trimmed hats, and whose shop was directly opposite, and next door to the Post Office, suffered greatly from unsatisfied curiosity. No one who looked like the proprietor was ever seen near the place. The foreman of the laborers who were working at the house seemed to know nothing; all that he said, in answer to questions, was: “I have my orders.”
At last the house was ready; it was painted within and without, and Madame Laroque could scarcely believe her eyes when, one morning, a man came from the city with a small sign under his arm and nailed it above the door. It bore these words: “Mademoiselle Viau, Milliner.” “Ah!” said Madame Laroque, “the bread is to be taken out of my mouth.” The next day came a load of furniture, — not a very large load, as there was only a small stove, two tables, a bedstead, three chairs, a sort of lounge, and two large boxes. The man who brought the things put them in the house, and locked the door on them when he went away; then nothing happened for two weeks, but Madame Laroque watched. Such a queer little house it was, as it stood there so new in its coat of gum-colored paint. It looked just like a square bandbox which some Titan had made for his wife; and there seemed no doubt that if you took hold of the chimney and lifted the roof off, you would see the gigantic bonnet, with its strings and ribbons, which the Titaness could wear to church on Sundays.
Most helpful customer reviews
0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Times twice removed
By Prof Dr W. Helbich
This volume was first published in 1896. It is made up of ten short stories, written by an English Canadian, but all set in a French Canadian village. The pieces are intertwined not only by the setting, but also by some persons who appear in more than onestory.
The author is well aware of the wave of modernization, industrialisation and urbanisation sweeping Eastern Canada in the second half of the 19th century, and he realises that it will bring revolutionary change to heretofore quaint, traditional villages. So the stories are a look back to the rural Quebec of old from the turn of the century, with the first signs of urban intrusion carefully depicted, and though they are not condemned or regretted, a touch of nostalgia is hard to miss.
Present-day readers who care for this theme (as opposed to the purely literary attractions like impressive characters and the artful interweaving of stories)thus enjoy a double perspective, from the penultimate turn of the century as well as the last one. This work of art is thus also of considerable importance to the social historian.
Wolfgang Helbich, Schnepfenthal
0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Short Stories on a VIllage
By Manaus
"In the Village of Viger" is a disappointing book in that the more interesting stories need expanding and the less interesting stories need editing out. The book is really a collection of short stories. Just when you think you are getting to know a character there is a sudden switch to a new chapter and a new character, then that one disappears and the cycle goes on. A village has atmosphere - it has seasons, it has a community spirit, it has survived for a long time with a blend of the environment and people's responses to it. None of this comes through in the book. It is rather bland and the people have no depth. Is it set in Canada? One would hardly know as there is no empathy for the village, the landscape or the people. It is almost written to a formula and that is very sad. There are plenty of books on villages that bring the place and its people to life - this does neither.
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