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New Tab
Set in Montreal, New Tab spans a year in the life of a twenty-six year old videogame designer as he attempts to reset his life, in the process chronicling with humor disillusion, boredom, self-destruction, Facebook chats, Concordia University, bilingualism, good parties, bad parties, a backyard cinema, social anxiety and running a possibly illegal DIY venue.
A sharp, funny, modern novel from one of the most unique new writers in Canada.
A sharp, funny, modern novel from one of the most unique new writers in Canada.
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First published March 20, 2014
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 37 reviews
April 20, 2015
Moderately intriguing depiction of a directionless millennial video game designer whose life has equal parts anxiety, boredom, and self-loathing. The events and textures presented seem authentic, but the writing at time seems a bit too forced or pretentious-poetic (e.g. "I wish I could photoshop my personality." or "I suddenly wanted to fold my Facebook page into an origami crane.") The world view presented is interesting: twenty-something ennui filtered through texting, social media and video games, but what it reveals is despite the technological advances and new media ways of interacting, the aimlessness and desire for connection and authenticity that are facets of many post-grad experiences, remain constant, regardless of the decade. The novel takes place in Montreal, but could easily take place in Allston, Brooklyn or a host of other places where young people caught between childhood and adulthood try to define themselves and find their ways.
July 28, 2019
I'm really not sure what to rate this book. Reading it wasn't an unpleasant experience. There were bits I enjoyed. The little random snippets peppered throughout (which I'm almost certain were originally tweets, or tweet drafts) were mostly amusing or interesting. The story wasn't bad.
The whole thing felt very derivative tho. I feel like I already read this book when it was called Taipei, except the post-modern mechanics of that book were much more conscious, and its ambling purpose felt more intentional. I'm getting really tired of books that don't have an ending. I feel like this is a trend that is a conscious aggression against meta-narratives in excess of a post-modern type. Post-modernism began to deconstruct the meta-narrative, and post-post-modernism is stripping parts of it away.
The autobiographical nature of this book (alluded to, if not stated expressly) was even an element in the story itself, and it made me feel uncomfortable. I'm not sure how I feel about a literary genre where every element is a blog turned into a story. This book made me too upset on a cognitive level to recommend readily, I think. I'm worried about this formula of novel generation on a more global level--the trend seems to be that the author should engage in life situations that can then be translated into some semblance of a narrative. The only conflict is natural and emergent, and therefore almost non-existent. This is a reflexively bleak view of the enterprise of writing as a whole, and it makes me upset and frustrated and sad. I could argue about whether that's the goal of this book, but I didn't want it to make me sad in the way that it did, and even tho I'm aware that no one puts a work of art into the world with the intent to make people dislike it, I feel my reaction is justifiable.
In the process of writing this review, I think I have determined my rating for this book as a two. I feel bad that I am not rating it higher, as the main character, derivative of the author, seemed like a nice person I can sympathize with and that I want to succeed. I don't feel comfortable with the repercussions a low rating might potentially have on other people's interest in reading this book--but, I feel committed to expressing myself in the same way the main character did, a la his Faulkner quotation.
I would like to read more of Guillaume Morissette's work. I will probably read his poems next.
I also feel bad because this book was short, and I like short books. I hope the book, and the author, don't dislike me because of what I felt about the book. I'm sorry.
The whole thing felt very derivative tho. I feel like I already read this book when it was called Taipei, except the post-modern mechanics of that book were much more conscious, and its ambling purpose felt more intentional. I'm getting really tired of books that don't have an ending. I feel like this is a trend that is a conscious aggression against meta-narratives in excess of a post-modern type. Post-modernism began to deconstruct the meta-narrative, and post-post-modernism is stripping parts of it away.
The autobiographical nature of this book (alluded to, if not stated expressly) was even an element in the story itself, and it made me feel uncomfortable. I'm not sure how I feel about a literary genre where every element is a blog turned into a story. This book made me too upset on a cognitive level to recommend readily, I think. I'm worried about this formula of novel generation on a more global level--the trend seems to be that the author should engage in life situations that can then be translated into some semblance of a narrative. The only conflict is natural and emergent, and therefore almost non-existent. This is a reflexively bleak view of the enterprise of writing as a whole, and it makes me upset and frustrated and sad. I could argue about whether that's the goal of this book, but I didn't want it to make me sad in the way that it did, and even tho I'm aware that no one puts a work of art into the world with the intent to make people dislike it, I feel my reaction is justifiable.
In the process of writing this review, I think I have determined my rating for this book as a two. I feel bad that I am not rating it higher, as the main character, derivative of the author, seemed like a nice person I can sympathize with and that I want to succeed. I don't feel comfortable with the repercussions a low rating might potentially have on other people's interest in reading this book--but, I feel committed to expressing myself in the same way the main character did, a la his Faulkner quotation.
I would like to read more of Guillaume Morissette's work. I will probably read his poems next.
I also feel bad because this book was short, and I like short books. I hope the book, and the author, don't dislike me because of what I felt about the book. I'm sorry.
July 1, 2014
New Tab is a low key polemic against satisfaction. It's the opposite of gamification. There are no payoffs, no goals to work towards. And yet.
It glides along, the prose is nice. Have you ever seen social highlighting on a Kindle? The result is almost always that the least essential text ends up being underlined, shoved in your face. The thing that could exist without a story or a context to explain it.
New Tab is actually full of these lines, sub 140 character chunks between characters that hit the brain just right. They don't need to be there, but I'm glad they are. It talks about short emotional attention spans, about not being able to want anything without examining that want, about Facebook and Montreal both being perfect conditions for perpetual FOMO.
It's deadpan in delivery and description. It sums up almost every reference it makes in a single sentence. It exists on its own and should be excruciating but isn't.
It glides along, the prose is nice. Have you ever seen social highlighting on a Kindle? The result is almost always that the least essential text ends up being underlined, shoved in your face. The thing that could exist without a story or a context to explain it.
New Tab is actually full of these lines, sub 140 character chunks between characters that hit the brain just right. They don't need to be there, but I'm glad they are. It talks about short emotional attention spans, about not being able to want anything without examining that want, about Facebook and Montreal both being perfect conditions for perpetual FOMO.
It's deadpan in delivery and description. It sums up almost every reference it makes in a single sentence. It exists on its own and should be excruciating but isn't.
October 29, 2016
29 fois le mot grimace en 136 pages. Soit il manque de synonymes, soit le traducteur s'est pas forcé.
Assez réaliste, si je repense à mes années étudiantes à Mtl, mais le style "carnet où je jette tout ce à quoi je pense" n'a pas trop pogné avec moi.
Assez réaliste, si je repense à mes années étudiantes à Mtl, mais le style "carnet où je jette tout ce à quoi je pense" n'a pas trop pogné avec moi.
July 14, 2017
Having read New Tab at the suggestion of one of my college professors I'm glad I did. This is a novel for anyone who has ever stared at their computer screens feeling like "the shittiest person alive." I breezed through it as the writing is simple, funny and engaging.
July 17, 2017
Publié sur le Webzine Les Méconnus
Guillaume Morissette a publié New tab en 2014 ; ce québécois francophone a fait le choix d’écrire et de publier en anglais, faisant fi des débats linguistiques que cela pourrait soulever. La traduction française, Nouvel onglet, nous arrive chez Boréal sous l’habile traduction de Daniel Grenier. Et ça s‘avère une lecture bizarrement addictive. Il est difficile de poser le livre quand on en commence la lecture et qu’on pose les pieds dans ce maelström de remises en questions et d’angoisse. On en ressort pourtant un peu perplexe.
Le personnage principal de Nouvel onglet est Thomas, un concepteur de jeux vidéo de 26 ans. Il prend des cours de création littéraire à temps partiel (même si on ne le voit que rarement écrire) et s’emmerde royalement au travail. Maladroit avec les filles, il est cependant entouré d’une faune amicale originale, pour ne pas dire marginale. Le regard qu’il porte sur le monde est celui de l’angoissé et de l’être perpétuellement «conscient de lui». Il est plus souvent enclin à examiner ses mouvements et tous ses faits et gestes. En fait, on pourrait le trouver complètement blasé s’il n’était pas autant paralysé par le regard des autres. La ligne semble mince pour ce personnage que l’on imagine maladroit, difficile d’approche même, tellement toute son appréhension du monde passe par ses propres observations et ce qu’il en ressent par la suite. Sur cet aspect, Morissette a poussé l’exercice à son extrême, ce qui sert tout à fait au ton parfois étouffant du roman.
À mi-chemin entre le récit et le carnet, le roman s’installe confortablement dans les pensées du narrateur, qui auraient pu gagner à être plus variées. Parfois, on enfile les remarques et observations sans trop savoir où tout ça nous mènera. Ce n’est pas anodin : ça traduit bien un certain travail de réflexion sur cette génération dont fait partie le narrateur, que l’on dépeint trop souvent comme étant centrée sur elle-même, mais tout de même, on doute que ce soit pertinent par moment. Les nombreuses répétitions dans le langage en viennent parfois à ennuyer le lecteur, bien qu’elles servent à merveille l’atmosphère d’ennui et de lassitude. Nouvel onglet demeure un parfait exemple où le fond et la forme s’accordent parfaitement, au détriment peut-être d’un plaisir de lecture constant.
« En traversant l’aire des restaurants pour me rendre à mon poste de travail, ça m’est soudainement apparu comme une évidence : tout ça était cyclique. On était payés pour se réunir dans un bureau et produire des logiciels qui servent à soutirer de l’argent aux consommateurs. Disséminés ici et là dans le bâtiment, il y avait des restaurants et des boutiques dont le modèle d’affaires s’appuyait fortement sur notre décision consciente et répétée de ne pas apporter de lunch au travail. Ce n’était pas difficile d’imaginer les employés des restaurants rentrer à la maison le soir, épuisés après une longue et frustrante journée de travail, jouer à des jeux vidéos sur leur iPhone pour relaxer, ne penser à rien, tout en dépensant leur argent pour des jeux comme on produisait. »
Guillaume Morissette a publié New tab en 2014 ; ce québécois francophone a fait le choix d’écrire et de publier en anglais, faisant fi des débats linguistiques que cela pourrait soulever. La traduction française, Nouvel onglet, nous arrive chez Boréal sous l’habile traduction de Daniel Grenier. Et ça s‘avère une lecture bizarrement addictive. Il est difficile de poser le livre quand on en commence la lecture et qu’on pose les pieds dans ce maelström de remises en questions et d’angoisse. On en ressort pourtant un peu perplexe.
Le personnage principal de Nouvel onglet est Thomas, un concepteur de jeux vidéo de 26 ans. Il prend des cours de création littéraire à temps partiel (même si on ne le voit que rarement écrire) et s’emmerde royalement au travail. Maladroit avec les filles, il est cependant entouré d’une faune amicale originale, pour ne pas dire marginale. Le regard qu’il porte sur le monde est celui de l’angoissé et de l’être perpétuellement «conscient de lui». Il est plus souvent enclin à examiner ses mouvements et tous ses faits et gestes. En fait, on pourrait le trouver complètement blasé s’il n’était pas autant paralysé par le regard des autres. La ligne semble mince pour ce personnage que l’on imagine maladroit, difficile d’approche même, tellement toute son appréhension du monde passe par ses propres observations et ce qu’il en ressent par la suite. Sur cet aspect, Morissette a poussé l’exercice à son extrême, ce qui sert tout à fait au ton parfois étouffant du roman.
À mi-chemin entre le récit et le carnet, le roman s’installe confortablement dans les pensées du narrateur, qui auraient pu gagner à être plus variées. Parfois, on enfile les remarques et observations sans trop savoir où tout ça nous mènera. Ce n’est pas anodin : ça traduit bien un certain travail de réflexion sur cette génération dont fait partie le narrateur, que l’on dépeint trop souvent comme étant centrée sur elle-même, mais tout de même, on doute que ce soit pertinent par moment. Les nombreuses répétitions dans le langage en viennent parfois à ennuyer le lecteur, bien qu’elles servent à merveille l’atmosphère d’ennui et de lassitude. Nouvel onglet demeure un parfait exemple où le fond et la forme s’accordent parfaitement, au détriment peut-être d’un plaisir de lecture constant.
« En traversant l’aire des restaurants pour me rendre à mon poste de travail, ça m’est soudainement apparu comme une évidence : tout ça était cyclique. On était payés pour se réunir dans un bureau et produire des logiciels qui servent à soutirer de l’argent aux consommateurs. Disséminés ici et là dans le bâtiment, il y avait des restaurants et des boutiques dont le modèle d’affaires s’appuyait fortement sur notre décision consciente et répétée de ne pas apporter de lunch au travail. Ce n’était pas difficile d’imaginer les employés des restaurants rentrer à la maison le soir, épuisés après une longue et frustrante journée de travail, jouer à des jeux vidéos sur leur iPhone pour relaxer, ne penser à rien, tout en dépensant leur argent pour des jeux comme on produisait. »
June 30, 2014
Wow, that was an unexpectedly fantastic read. It left me feeling vaguely anxious, apathetic in a faux-deep way, and filled with a strange yearning for something that moves at the edge of my comprehension. Most importantly, it was beautifully written and satisfying.
Oh, there's plenty of reason to hate it. For once, nothing happens. A whole lot of little nothings, like expanded Facebook status updates crossed with contemporary poetry. Characters are infuriating and endearing at once for their capacity for casual self-destruction. Nobody has a drive to accomplish a single thing. Tension emerges like ripples, and crash on the beach of the story without disturbing a single grain of sand.
And yet that, to me, was where the true power of New Tab lies. It's filled with a sort of existential angst that's at once beautiful and scary, both infuriating and profound. I can't say that I rooted for any of the characters or grew to like them, but that was sort of the point. It felt true in a way that we are usually too chaste to acknowledge.
And that greater truth brings me to the lyrical quality of the work. It's really something of a poem in prose, and there were so many arresting images that I would have filled a notebook the size of the novel itself if I had written them all down. The prose, in its economical yet stunning quality, reminded me a lot of the great Amy Hempel. Huge praise, I know, but this book deserves it.
Add to this the fact that the novel talks about an aspect of the videogame industry that you never see behind the glitz and glamour, and that it takes place in a Montreal I immediately recognized on a visceral level, and I was won over instantly. I can't wait to read Guillaume Morissette's future works.
Oh, there's plenty of reason to hate it. For once, nothing happens. A whole lot of little nothings, like expanded Facebook status updates crossed with contemporary poetry. Characters are infuriating and endearing at once for their capacity for casual self-destruction. Nobody has a drive to accomplish a single thing. Tension emerges like ripples, and crash on the beach of the story without disturbing a single grain of sand.
And yet that, to me, was where the true power of New Tab lies. It's filled with a sort of existential angst that's at once beautiful and scary, both infuriating and profound. I can't say that I rooted for any of the characters or grew to like them, but that was sort of the point. It felt true in a way that we are usually too chaste to acknowledge.
And that greater truth brings me to the lyrical quality of the work. It's really something of a poem in prose, and there were so many arresting images that I would have filled a notebook the size of the novel itself if I had written them all down. The prose, in its economical yet stunning quality, reminded me a lot of the great Amy Hempel. Huge praise, I know, but this book deserves it.
Add to this the fact that the novel talks about an aspect of the videogame industry that you never see behind the glitz and glamour, and that it takes place in a Montreal I immediately recognized on a visceral level, and I was won over instantly. I can't wait to read Guillaume Morissette's future works.
July 7, 2015
Full recommendation for reading this novel in its original language, while awaiting an Spanish edition, for which I offer myself as a translator —if necessary. The protagonist and narrator is a video game designer in his twenties, unhappy with his work and his life in general. I mean, who suffers from low self-esteem, social isolation and anxiety, as any good person. He has the idea of returning to college in Montreal to study Creative Writing, so he moves home to share a house in rental with other students. In the attempt to re-invent himself, he makes new friends —-with one foot in real life and another one on Facebook—, he attends parties and raves, and flirts with alcohol and other drugs disastrously. The disappointing and full of self-destructive mood of tweets —aphorisms— acting as a transition between scenes prepares us to guess the fate of this unfortunate guy in its interaction with reality.
“New Tab” (Véhicule Press, 2014) offers a wonderful psychological characterization of characters that makes them completely believable and lovable. Realism also defines the protagonist’s “love story” with a younger girl, a desultory literary fanzine editor who is still trapped in a previous relationship of dependency. Few contemporary love stories I have found so poignant as this one, told by Guillaume Morissette, this new writter associated with the emergence of the Alt Lit scene in Canada. My identification with the characters has been tremendous, thanks to its particular wisdom to perceive and transmit the doubts, the fears, the absurd, the innocence and helplessness of our lives in the second decade of the century. Morissette is author of the miscellany of prose and poetry, “I Am My Own Betrayal” (2012) and has published in numerous digital media.Guillaume Morissette
“New Tab” (Véhicule Press, 2014) offers a wonderful psychological characterization of characters that makes them completely believable and lovable. Realism also defines the protagonist’s “love story” with a younger girl, a desultory literary fanzine editor who is still trapped in a previous relationship of dependency. Few contemporary love stories I have found so poignant as this one, told by Guillaume Morissette, this new writter associated with the emergence of the Alt Lit scene in Canada. My identification with the characters has been tremendous, thanks to its particular wisdom to perceive and transmit the doubts, the fears, the absurd, the innocence and helplessness of our lives in the second decade of the century. Morissette is author of the miscellany of prose and poetry, “I Am My Own Betrayal” (2012) and has published in numerous digital media.Guillaume Morissette
June 9, 2025
Fun but limited were my thoughts when I read this novel eight years ago. I can't add anything because it has receded from my memory. But it is still on my shelves (2025) but for how long? Even though it is a thin volume I think it has outlived its welcome. If I didn't read it again during COVID I think the chances of me ever reading it again has passed.
April 17, 2014
Between this browser tab and the next, it'll take me another three dozen before I get anywhere closer to feeling like I know what I'm looking for.
October 14, 2016
style vraiment surprenant et intéressant. Ai bien aimé le ton blasé du narrateur, l'histoire décousue de certains personnages, dans lesquelles je retrouvais certaines personnes que je connais.
August 22, 2018
Characters were seemingly aimless and unmotivated which was frustrating as a reader but also kind of real. It was easy to relate to the character and it was scary to see how I almost found myself in the same depressing state. As I kept reading, part of me kept expecting some shift in the plot, a heavier conflict, to drive the book forward. But part of the conflict of the book is that there's seemingly no real conflict which makes this read that much more off putting. But I liked it. I liked the short breaks in the passages that offered a piece of poetic prose. I liked how the writing was still comical and in some places a little heartfelt. I liked how different it was from my usual reads.
I feel weird after reading it, which I feel in a sense is an accomplishment. To come out the other side of a book with a different perspective than I had going into it. I feel uncertain, but maybe it's because of that that I'd recommend this read.
I feel weird after reading it, which I feel in a sense is an accomplishment. To come out the other side of a book with a different perspective than I had going into it. I feel uncertain, but maybe it's because of that that I'd recommend this read.
September 12, 2020
I've read some reviews and can't say that I would argue with any of them. It's like a rambling monologue from someone who is waiting for life to have meaning for him, but doesn't make an effort beyond superficial human connections.
My copy was second hand, and the previous owner wrote at the end of the last paragraph, "conveniently arranged with a beginning, middle, end, incorporating a conflict or two and their resolution. Yet, towards what end? The end itself. Disney characters have more depth." Sounds like Murakami. Why does that work for him ?
Maybe you shouldn't overthink it....
Overall, I didn't hate this book, and it seems to be way less problematic for me than many other people.
My copy was second hand, and the previous owner wrote at the end of the last paragraph, "conveniently arranged with a beginning, middle, end, incorporating a conflict or two and their resolution. Yet, towards what end? The end itself. Disney characters have more depth." Sounds like Murakami. Why does that work for him ?
Maybe you shouldn't overthink it....
Overall, I didn't hate this book, and it seems to be way less problematic for me than many other people.
December 24, 2021
I'm new to living in a cosmopolitan city so this was my first time ever reading a novel where two characters might have conceivably walked by my apartment. Making the main character a possibly hammy poet was a clever way for the author to sneak a number of hammy deep thoughts into the story. Great bus read.
May 26, 2017
I didn't enjoy this book, the characters are very self involved ... theme is existential angst...
December 16, 2024
Pretty relatable book about feeling lost in your 20s and your life just happening around you, but had a lot of sections that were just kind of weird
October 16, 2015
Guillaume Morissette's New Tab mixes the modern malaise of being a twenty-something millennial in Montreal (the hang-overs, the copy-and-paste winters, the roommates and shared apartments) with the minutiae of the technological quotidian. Stalking Facebook profiles and composing chat logs and emails on his phone and computer, the twenty-six-year-old protagonist, Thomas, also a video-game designer, finds his new roommates with the help of a Craigslist ad, and together they operate an illegal backyard cinema in order to pay off a colossal hydro bill racked up by a previous tenant. Throughout the novel, Thomas, an earnest cynicist, alternates between modes of attachment and detachment from the world of drugs, alcohol, an unsatisfying day job, awkward romantic entanglements, and his creative ambitions.
Integral to Thomas’s evolution is an understanding of the hewing of age, and in particular, of the characteristic messiness of being twenty-six. Introducing himself as a potential tenant to Brent over Craigslist, Thomas describes himself as “mid-twenties and not insane and drama-free” (9) but bemoans having the misfortune to keep “meeting people who I thought were my age but then turned out to be younger than me…It was confusing information to handle” (9). As a result, Thomas is disinclined to admit his true age to acquaintances. “To age,” Thomas thinks, is to say “‘I am awesome,’ and then, ‘No, wait,’ and then a long list of reasons why you’re not, with the list getting longer and longer each year” (47). For Thomas, the true test of age is an increasingly prevalent attitude of self-disdain.
Beyond age, New Tab also depicts the vagaries of social interactions and the downfalls of technology: “‘I got so smashed last night,’ read a Chat message from Shannon on Facebook” (11). Thomas replies: “‘I kind of wish I was regretting last night right now,’ I typed back. ‘I didn’t get your text until this morning. My phone fucked me over. I would have come’” (11). Online, social intelligence is structured around the mediations of iMessage, chat, email, and text. In real life, it is concomitantly elevated and demoted by tablets of MDMA and pints of beer. Yet “without the internet,” Thomas explains, “reality felt hollow, like a room without furniture” (35). Portraying the palpable discontent with (and yet interminable reliance upon) technology, Morissette’s novel manages to document the weird and unwieldy forms of communication that punctuate moments in Thomas’s everyday life.
Swift, heart-felt, and full of humour, the style of New Tab boldly represents twenty-something vernacular while also periodically surprising the reader with short, quippy lines of profound and amusing observations. Reflecting on his poetic failures, for instance, Thomas imagines “social services taking my self-esteem away from me, giving it to foster parents who would take better care of it” (23). Later, he reflects upon how “Facebook was my procrastination’s thesis” (149), and further muses: “‘How will I check my email when I am dead?’” (151). Ultimately, in moving beyond the inertia of the times, New Tab is a brilliant novel that discerningly captures the swirling chaos of being human in a world of wall-mounted television monitors, coffee vending machines, and default ringtones. A fresh reinvention of the bildungsroman and künstlerroman genre, New Tab is an illustrious portrait of an emerging artist that chronicles the meaning of millennial life.
Integral to Thomas’s evolution is an understanding of the hewing of age, and in particular, of the characteristic messiness of being twenty-six. Introducing himself as a potential tenant to Brent over Craigslist, Thomas describes himself as “mid-twenties and not insane and drama-free” (9) but bemoans having the misfortune to keep “meeting people who I thought were my age but then turned out to be younger than me…It was confusing information to handle” (9). As a result, Thomas is disinclined to admit his true age to acquaintances. “To age,” Thomas thinks, is to say “‘I am awesome,’ and then, ‘No, wait,’ and then a long list of reasons why you’re not, with the list getting longer and longer each year” (47). For Thomas, the true test of age is an increasingly prevalent attitude of self-disdain.
Beyond age, New Tab also depicts the vagaries of social interactions and the downfalls of technology: “‘I got so smashed last night,’ read a Chat message from Shannon on Facebook” (11). Thomas replies: “‘I kind of wish I was regretting last night right now,’ I typed back. ‘I didn’t get your text until this morning. My phone fucked me over. I would have come’” (11). Online, social intelligence is structured around the mediations of iMessage, chat, email, and text. In real life, it is concomitantly elevated and demoted by tablets of MDMA and pints of beer. Yet “without the internet,” Thomas explains, “reality felt hollow, like a room without furniture” (35). Portraying the palpable discontent with (and yet interminable reliance upon) technology, Morissette’s novel manages to document the weird and unwieldy forms of communication that punctuate moments in Thomas’s everyday life.
Swift, heart-felt, and full of humour, the style of New Tab boldly represents twenty-something vernacular while also periodically surprising the reader with short, quippy lines of profound and amusing observations. Reflecting on his poetic failures, for instance, Thomas imagines “social services taking my self-esteem away from me, giving it to foster parents who would take better care of it” (23). Later, he reflects upon how “Facebook was my procrastination’s thesis” (149), and further muses: “‘How will I check my email when I am dead?’” (151). Ultimately, in moving beyond the inertia of the times, New Tab is a brilliant novel that discerningly captures the swirling chaos of being human in a world of wall-mounted television monitors, coffee vending machines, and default ringtones. A fresh reinvention of the bildungsroman and künstlerroman genre, New Tab is an illustrious portrait of an emerging artist that chronicles the meaning of millennial life.
January 7, 2017
Le roman de Guillaume Morissette, publié en 2014 et salué par la critique, a finalement été traduit et ré-édité par Boréal. On y lit un parcours initiatique, un vol plané sur la singularité montréalaise, une sorte d’Éducation sentimentale où le héros est en quête non pas d’ascension sociale, mais d’un environnement plus humain. Et ce, quitte à saboter son univers et son compte de banque : Pas besoin d’argent, juste besoin de monde. C’est pas l’argent, la monnaie d’échange, ici, c’est le monde que tu connais.
Le protagoniste, Thomas, incarne une figure typique du jeune professionnel blasé : complexé et maladroit dans les relations sociales et romantiques. Son auto flagellation, un peu trop insistante ; J’ai eu l’impression que ma vie était un désastre, mis à part de bonnes conditions matérielles, laisse aussi place aux éclats d’une imagination déjantée : Si je me fiais à l’étiquette, le vin avait l’air convaincu qu’il avait été produit dans un château. L’attitude nihiliste et celle d’autodérision sont deux faces d’une même pièce.
Les personnages, souvent dotés du même humour auto-ironique, sont le plus grand atout du roman. Le texte fait place à la vraisemblance de leurs commentaires et à la spontanéité de leurs gestes. On reste donc accrochés à cette histoire qui ne se limite pas à une intrigue prévisible pour les lectrices et lecteurs attentifs. Ce qui guide la trame, c’est la quête éternelle de Shannon pour une satisfaction passionnelle, les tendances cleptomanes de Cristian, les élans artistiques douteux de Brent, Romy qui change plus vite d’idée que clignote un stroboscope…
On lit et relit Nouvel Onglet pour le portrait proustien de la jeunesse montréalaise éphémère et précaire, du mouvement d’une vie sociale exaltée en manque d’équilibre. La lecture est facile et agréable, pour cette histoire qui représente les conversations, les inquiétudes liées au paraître, les enjeux de surface tout de même vitaux, que déconstruit bien l’œil perspicace de Thomas.
Le protagoniste, Thomas, incarne une figure typique du jeune professionnel blasé : complexé et maladroit dans les relations sociales et romantiques. Son auto flagellation, un peu trop insistante ; J’ai eu l’impression que ma vie était un désastre, mis à part de bonnes conditions matérielles, laisse aussi place aux éclats d’une imagination déjantée : Si je me fiais à l’étiquette, le vin avait l’air convaincu qu’il avait été produit dans un château. L’attitude nihiliste et celle d’autodérision sont deux faces d’une même pièce.
Les personnages, souvent dotés du même humour auto-ironique, sont le plus grand atout du roman. Le texte fait place à la vraisemblance de leurs commentaires et à la spontanéité de leurs gestes. On reste donc accrochés à cette histoire qui ne se limite pas à une intrigue prévisible pour les lectrices et lecteurs attentifs. Ce qui guide la trame, c’est la quête éternelle de Shannon pour une satisfaction passionnelle, les tendances cleptomanes de Cristian, les élans artistiques douteux de Brent, Romy qui change plus vite d’idée que clignote un stroboscope…
On lit et relit Nouvel Onglet pour le portrait proustien de la jeunesse montréalaise éphémère et précaire, du mouvement d’une vie sociale exaltée en manque d’équilibre. La lecture est facile et agréable, pour cette histoire qui représente les conversations, les inquiétudes liées au paraître, les enjeux de surface tout de même vitaux, que déconstruit bien l’œil perspicace de Thomas.
October 26, 2015
"Those seemed to be my thoughts and feelings."
Ah, those final words of the novel. What happens when you don't always get what you want or what you need?
A gesture toward being certainly uncertain of a fashionable identity. The epitaph reads, Here lies intimacy issues defined by one's internet browsing history.
Enter NEW TAB. hint for next time round: CMMND+SHFT+N
A similar reading experience to scrolling through your newsfeed: pleasantly bored thoughts and feelings, grounded in mildly debasing anxiety and depression. Is boredom a state of mind? A process of becoming? The most important emotion that tells you to simply try harder? The prose is slightly life-affirming, in the most self-loathing way. A squirrel-like tendency to digress. The by-product of buying all your belongings second-hand and finding all your jobs through Craigslist. Do not pass go. Do not collect 200$.
To sum up Thomas: A quoi pensez-vous? Perpetual Facebook status updates. Thomas does not pass the 'who gives a fuck?' test. His thoughts are interesting but he doesn't seem to be interested. Ever. His emotions are adolescent, easily distilled into a panda emoji. The bleakness of a twitter conversation, watching you watching me watching you, or, a conversation with yourself.
I've cut a lot of lemons in my lifetime, too, Thomas. Thanks for sharing.
Read this if you're into twenty-something nihilistic psyche at its finest. Or if you like making out with cute girls while wondering, 'is everyone else having more sex than me?' Or granny smith apples and rolling your eyes. Because that's the closest to happiness and contentment you will get.
Ah, those final words of the novel. What happens when you don't always get what you want or what you need?
A gesture toward being certainly uncertain of a fashionable identity. The epitaph reads, Here lies intimacy issues defined by one's internet browsing history.
Enter NEW TAB. hint for next time round: CMMND+SHFT+N
A similar reading experience to scrolling through your newsfeed: pleasantly bored thoughts and feelings, grounded in mildly debasing anxiety and depression. Is boredom a state of mind? A process of becoming? The most important emotion that tells you to simply try harder? The prose is slightly life-affirming, in the most self-loathing way. A squirrel-like tendency to digress. The by-product of buying all your belongings second-hand and finding all your jobs through Craigslist. Do not pass go. Do not collect 200$.
To sum up Thomas: A quoi pensez-vous? Perpetual Facebook status updates. Thomas does not pass the 'who gives a fuck?' test. His thoughts are interesting but he doesn't seem to be interested. Ever. His emotions are adolescent, easily distilled into a panda emoji. The bleakness of a twitter conversation, watching you watching me watching you, or, a conversation with yourself.
I've cut a lot of lemons in my lifetime, too, Thomas. Thanks for sharing.
Read this if you're into twenty-something nihilistic psyche at its finest. Or if you like making out with cute girls while wondering, 'is everyone else having more sex than me?' Or granny smith apples and rolling your eyes. Because that's the closest to happiness and contentment you will get.
February 16, 2016
The places that this book shines are in the accurate depictions of detached ambiguity in terms of the love, social, workplace & inner lives of college-age kids. There are also a lot of small sentences of clarity peppered throughout the book, which made me think of "The Book of Disquiet". However, like "Disquiet", there are large blocks that you need to get through in order to get to them. But instead of monotonous moaning paragraphs, what this book consists of is mostly anxiety-ridden, largely vapid inner monologue, depressive self-talk, and social interactions that go nowhere with people that live without commitment.
The dialogue IS representative of our shared social experiences, but it made me feel bad about myself because it points out just how god-damned boring it is. In fact, I felt even worse because I used to BE this guy, living day-to-day in a disgusting shared house with loud-mouthed boozehounds thinking they were doing something important. I was that guy that had to take responsibility for the power bill. I was that guy that never seemed to make relationships work. I will admit that there is some level of self-hatred at work here that is biasing me. But reading about it doesn't excite any nostalgia or interest for me, really. The real problem with this was the main characters relationship to poetry, which should have been a driving force, some kind of passion in his life, but is reduced to a means to an end, a way to get into lit mags and bookstore readings, and we never see any connection to it besides, "It's a thing I do".
The dialogue IS representative of our shared social experiences, but it made me feel bad about myself because it points out just how god-damned boring it is. In fact, I felt even worse because I used to BE this guy, living day-to-day in a disgusting shared house with loud-mouthed boozehounds thinking they were doing something important. I was that guy that had to take responsibility for the power bill. I was that guy that never seemed to make relationships work. I will admit that there is some level of self-hatred at work here that is biasing me. But reading about it doesn't excite any nostalgia or interest for me, really. The real problem with this was the main characters relationship to poetry, which should have been a driving force, some kind of passion in his life, but is reduced to a means to an end, a way to get into lit mags and bookstore readings, and we never see any connection to it besides, "It's a thing I do".
November 19, 2016
J'ai eu de la difficulté à apprécier objectivement ce roman parce qu'il y a quelque chose dans la démarche de l'auteur qui m'agace profondément, à savoir le choix non-politique, selon lui, d'écrire en anglais. Roman à haute teneur autobiographique, le jupon dépasse rapidement en début de récit alors qu'il se moque des convictions souverainistes de l'un de ses colocs et qu'il insiste à plusieurs reprises dans le roman sur son désir d'évoluer en anglais à Montréal. Difficile de me sentir moins interpellée par le protagoniste principal du récit qui mène d'ailleurs une existence désabusée et dénuée de réflexions transcendantes. Le choix d'écrire dans une langue différente peut se défendre mais j'ai senti une certaine limite dans le vocabulaire. J'ai été tentée à plusieurs moments de compter le nombre de fois où l'expression "I/he/she made a face" était utilisée comme raccourci dans le roman. C'en était caricatural. Finalement, ce n'était certainement pas le premier ni le dernier roman de désoeuvrement limite nihiliste que j'aurai lu dans ma vie mais il existe des univers plus parlants et aboutis que ce dernier.
July 11, 2015
I've been reading many of the books that were nominated for the Amazon First novel award this year. This one is a year in the life of a game designer who lives in Montreal. I loved the writing style and found it was quite witty. There's not a lot that happens in this book, but it's quite funny and took me back to Montreal, even though I did not party as much as the people in this book. The author was able to capture the malaise and uncertainty of 20-somethings. Also, great use of Facebook and social media in a book's narrative. The dialogue also felt fresh and inspired and was extremely well done.
May 25, 2014
For days after finishing New Tab by Guillaume Morissette, I kept thinking Thomas’ friend Shannon might pop up on Facebook chat. That’s how disarmingly, perhaps unwittingly, authentic the characters are in this book. That authenticity is especially surprising given that Thomas, Shannon and their shifting circle of roommates, workmates, classmates and various acquaintances are often just disembodied virtual entities, to each other and to the reader.
Read my complete review at: http://bookgagabooks.ca/2014/05/25/ne...
Read my complete review at: http://bookgagabooks.ca/2014/05/25/ne...
October 15, 2014
A smooth, first-person Internet-savvy, almost-love story about a twenty-something video game designer living in Montreal with a bunch of roommates who do drugs, show movies in their backyard for beer money, and forget to pay their bills on time. Utilizing a crisp, matter-of-fact style that’s smart, funny (sometimes laugh-out-loud funny) and engrossing, Morissette skillfully captures the aimless humdrum of youth’s dive bars, house parties, and emergency rooms.
February 26, 2018
J'ai lu ce livre parce qu'il est représentatif, semble-t-il, de ce que vit toute une génération en ce moment. Mais j'espère que non. Ça m'a semblé vide, sans lumière, sans espoir. J'en ai passé des bouts. L'écriture elle-même m'a par contre happée à plusieurs moments.
May 8, 2015
The inner dialogue and actions of the main character and secondary characters in this book are an uncanny reflection of an entire generation. Sometimes funny, sometimes loathing and sometimes too close to home, this book caught me off guard and left me unhinged. An amazing Canadian writer who I'll be paying close attention to in the future.
October 13, 2014
The story of a hipster in crisis. Vivid portrayal of the Montreal hipster scene, and some articulate descriptions of existential despair in this age of social media. Good read, but ultimately a bit fluffy, perhaps because I find the hipster culture annoying and self-entitled. Lots of potential with this writer though. Worth keeping an eye on.
December 15, 2015
An angsty little book about angst. Some interesting lines that articulate the tension between simultaneously hating and revealing in one's life as a directionless child who has the age of a 'grownup,' but like with many novels about angst (especially when they seem to draw on the author's own experience) a little self-indulgent.
February 29, 2016
This is a short novel in English set in Montreal. Montreal is a major character. Though written in English by a Francophone, the language is witty and fresh, much of it like reading funny and surreal status updates on Facebook (also a running theme). The story, however, is thin, so ultimately the pleasures of the book are limited.
May 6, 2016
very much liked reading this in spite of the fact i could very clearly picture the protagonist as a guy who i would message on okcupid or tinder and identify as someone who i could date seriously, but never receive a response from due the self selecting tendencies of his single-mindedly maudlin lifestyle.
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