One of the Toronto Star 's top books of the year A year after watching Leo go through thin ice, twelve-year- old Ferd is obsessed with the idea that he can persuade his dead brother to come home through a campaign of letters. Plaintive notes appear around the house-folded squares of paper in the rain reservoir, kitchen sink, and washing machine. Ferd’s mother, Algoma, is also unravelling; attempting to hide her son’s letters, reconnect with her increasingly distant husband, and rebuild her life. “Algoma is a strong debut novel with a haunting landscape, convincing characters and a vivid sense of the haphazard nature of our lives.” — National Post “A very good first novel from a refreshing new voice.” — Quill & Quire
Let me first say that I've yet to experience the works of a Canadian author that falls short of amazing and pleasently consuming.
A family living in a small town north of Quebec, thrown into the shadow of grief after the loss of their son and brother. The opening scene/first chapter alone might have been enough for me to rate this book at 4 stars-I was that consumed by emotion already.
Dani Couture created a real gem with this book. I refrained from 5 stars only because I wanted more at the end, but as I unfortunately realize every time, no book can go on forever. The characters in this book were full and satisfyingly relatable, their surroundings descriptive, yet not overwhelmingly so. The lack of dates confused me slightly in terms of the random flashbacks, but that was no fault of the authors', the book flowed smoothly enough to support it.
I've read countless books that attempt to capture the diverse emotions of grief and mourning, all of them becoming a united blur with their similarities and cliches. This author handed me something completely different with her story of tragedy and it's consequences, and for that, I cannot thank her enough. I will be patiently awaiting her next book.
It sounds like an odd story, doesn't it? And it is ... and I enjoyed it.
It's set in a small town in Quebec. There's not a lot happening in the town and everyone knows everyone else.
Algoma, Gaetan and Ferd are definitely a disfunctional family ... and they are doing the best they can deal with their grief.
Algoma comes from a family of multiple twins and feels there is something missing because she's not one. She works in a second hand store and this is where she gets most of the stuff for her house and family. She definitely needs some TLC but that's not coming for her.
Ferd watched his twin fall through the ice while following a bear. Because Leo's body was never found, Ferd feels he is still alive and will be coming home any day. So he writes Leo notes (which he leaves in sources of water) to keep him up-to-date on all he's missing.
Gaetan, is a bartender who drinks more than he should. One day he hitches a ride out of town and ends up in Toronto. He occasionally sends a little money home to his family, not knowing that Algoma is pregnant.
It sounds like a downer of a story ... and it is. I liked the writing style. It's not a quick read due to the nature of the story.
A great example of Canlit. The plot moves by vignettes of a group of people trying to deal with the tragic passing of a child.
Page 23 Algoma turned onto her side and looked at the digital clock. The glowing green numbers read 5:42 a.m. She turned back over, managing to avoid looking at Leo's empty bed on the other side of the room, stripped of sheets. Empty. She pulled her feet back under the covers and listened to the sound of her neighbour's car radio blare as eh turned on the ignition, the crunch of snow under his tires as he backed out of the driveway. In the next room, she could her Gaetan tossing and turning, the rustling of his sheets, his grunts. He'd never been a good sleeper, but had become worse lately and nothing seemed to help. She closed her eyes, but could not fall back to sleep. Night-spell broken, she threw back the blankets and put her feet on the cold floor. Her eyes adjusted to the low light of the room. The light from the streetlight outside illumiated the crack in the window pane she'd been meaning to fix once there was money. There was a film of dirt on the glass and the curtains needed to be replaced from where Leo had accidentally torn the checkered fabric, Algoma's chest heaved. She cried into her hands until there was nothing left.
This is just stunning! It's haunting, packed with beautiful similes yet never feels overwrought, and manages to detail grief from both adult and child points of view. I think it mostly stirred me so much because thanks to my own experiences, I could perfectly picture small-town Quebec and the people there: the relative remoteness but also finding comfort in that; the seasons; the economic struggle; the hard truth that even a tight-knit community is no match for the primordial dangers of ice, bears, and so on.
Yearning notes to a lost brother from his twin waft through Dani Couture's haunting Algoma like Tibetan wind horses. Couture's poetry pedigree informs the story of a family grappling with loss, but the symbolic layers sit lightly on the engrossing story and flawed, still endearing characters.
Couture tells an interesting story about loss, set in rural Quebec. Written in a wonderfully concise style that employes deep(water) metaphors, the narrative about the struggle of lower-middle class is something we don't often read in English Canada. Kudos to Couture!
Just finished Dani Couture's brilliant novel, Algoma. To be in those landscapes, northern Ontario and Toronto, and to be within the characters', and to be *with* them as they move towards what they want—what a moving, insightful book!
The main idea behind this novel alone demands a reading. Its quirky--unique--and yet also makes sense. Its touching yet simplistic, powerful yet subtle. Its easy to get lost in.
Dani Couture spins a tightly-woven tale that lives and breathes all on its own. The characters are well realized and easy to relate too, the shifting perceptives is done with a masterful hand, and the voice is one you will carry with you long after you finish the book. For something so somber, it also manages to also be both light and calm.
My only qualm was the ending. I would have loved to know what happened next, and without it, the novel feels a touch incomplete. Otherwise, its a brilliant little story that whispers a message you don't need to strain to hear:
The raw emotion of the novel stems from his mother, Algoma. The seventh daughter in her family, and the only one born without a twin, Algoma carries a bitterness throughout her life. (Algoma's mother hoped to set a world twin-bearing record; Algoma's birth made that impossible.) She watches her sisters function in pairs; and then she gives birth to Leo and Ferd. Named after a fleet of shipping tankers, Algoma struggles, at times heroically, to hold herself and her family afloat after Leo's death.
One thing that I love about books is that we can make them into whatever we want them to be. A story starts with a place, a character, an idea, a problem, a tragedy, a struggle, and it evolves, changes and grows into something larger, implicating more people, concepts, themes, and so on and so on....