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Arvida
Finalist for the 2015 Giller Prize
One of Quill & Quire’s Books of the Year, 2015
A twenty-five-thousand-copy bestseller in Quebec, Arvida, with its stories of innocent young girls and wild beasts, attempted murder and ritual mutilation, haunted houses and road trips heading nowhere, is unforgettable. Like a Proust-obsessed Cormac McCarthy, Samuel Archibald's portrait of his hometown, a model town design by American industrialist Arthur Vining Davis, does for Quebec's North what William Faulkner did for the South, and heralds an important new voice in world literature.
Samuel Archibald teaches contemporary popular culture at the University of Quebec in Montreal, where he lectures on genre fiction, horror movies, and video games, among other subjects.
One of Quill & Quire’s Books of the Year, 2015
A twenty-five-thousand-copy bestseller in Quebec, Arvida, with its stories of innocent young girls and wild beasts, attempted murder and ritual mutilation, haunted houses and road trips heading nowhere, is unforgettable. Like a Proust-obsessed Cormac McCarthy, Samuel Archibald's portrait of his hometown, a model town design by American industrialist Arthur Vining Davis, does for Quebec's North what William Faulkner did for the South, and heralds an important new voice in world literature.
Samuel Archibald teaches contemporary popular culture at the University of Quebec in Montreal, where he lectures on genre fiction, horror movies, and video games, among other subjects.
216 pages, Paperback
First published September 1, 2011
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About the author
Samuel Archibald
15 books42 followersSamuel Archibald teaches contemporary popular culture at the University of Quebec in Montreal, where he lectures on genre fiction, horror movies, and video games, among other subjects.
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October 21, 2015
Arvida, a collection of short stories, ends with this passage from Madeleines as the narrator (presumably the author of the collection, Samuel Archibald) considers all the stories he could write:
Coy for this book to end with that reference to a beginning, but this list pretty much explains everything you will find within these pages. The title “Arvida” itself refers to the smelting town in Quebec’s Saguenay region where Archibald grew up. Built quickly in the late-1920s as a planned habitat for the factory's workers, the town’s name derives from Alcoa/Alcan’s then chairman, Arthur Vining Davis (combining the first two letters of each of his names). Because Arvida seemed to him like a place without a history, Archibald's intent here was to fill in the blank spaces with local folklore, family stories, and a touch of fantasy (noting that in French, there is no difference between the words for “story” and “history”). With hockey, hunting, and prayers to the saints, this collection is firmly set in what I think of as Quebec, but as a work of literature, I'm uncertain as to its broad appeal.
There were often some lovely descriptive bits:
Or:
And many passages I didn't really understand:
I was glad to read that the most disturbing story in Arvida – Jigai; the Japan-set gorefest – didn't spring whole from Archibald's mind, but was disquieted to think of it as an allegorical version of real life events. Overall, these stories were a little dull for me – and not least of all because every story about “monsters and haunted houses” contained logical explanations for quasi-supernatural events – but I can appreciate the purpose that they serve for Archibald and the memory of a town that doesn't even technically exist anymore.
Stories of Arvida and elsewhere.
Horrible stories and funny stories and stories both horrible and funny.
Stories of road trips, little thieves, and people weak in the head.
Stories of monsters and haunted houses.
Stories of bad men, as men often are, and mysterious and terrifying women, as women always are.
True stories I'd tell without asking permission or changing any names, while giving dates and the names of streets.
Terrible stories that I'd never tell except by removing them to the opposite end of the world, or disguising them in strange language.
They all jostled together, taking their time, until I succumbed to the overwhelming fatigue of the day in the open air. There was no hurry. I hugged my father, I pissed outside, and I went to bed early for once, happy to know so many stories.
Beginning with that one.
Coy for this book to end with that reference to a beginning, but this list pretty much explains everything you will find within these pages. The title “Arvida” itself refers to the smelting town in Quebec’s Saguenay region where Archibald grew up. Built quickly in the late-1920s as a planned habitat for the factory's workers, the town’s name derives from Alcoa/Alcan’s then chairman, Arthur Vining Davis (combining the first two letters of each of his names). Because Arvida seemed to him like a place without a history, Archibald's intent here was to fill in the blank spaces with local folklore, family stories, and a touch of fantasy (noting that in French, there is no difference between the words for “story” and “history”). With hockey, hunting, and prayers to the saints, this collection is firmly set in what I think of as Quebec, but as a work of literature, I'm uncertain as to its broad appeal.
There were often some lovely descriptive bits:
I was dazzled by the lightning and blinded by its absence. I heard a din that was more like thunder than surf, I saw the waves crashing and exploding against the rocks in a commotion that had nothing gentle or harmonious about it, I saw the ocean like an immense black mass streaked with foam, and I understood that every time I'd seen the sea before that night, on the bridge of a ferry, at the lighthouse at Pointe-au-Père , or on the beach at Cape Cod, I'd seen a postcard, I'd seen a lie.
Or:
Menaud had the torso of a wrestler perched on bird feet, forearms like Popeye the sailor covered in long black hairs like zigzags, and between his incisors a hole big enough for you to poke in a finger. A thick beard lent a bluish cast to his neck and cheeks, and a single bushy eyebrow spawned a whole repertoire of grimaces where it overhung his evil eyes, hunched in their orbits like grackles in a stolen nest.
And many passages I didn't really understand:
The cards murmur many things in the ears of people who know how to listen. Her grandmother taught her that a woman has the right to hear what she wants to hear and to leave all the rest suspended from the wings of the birds of affliction.
I was glad to read that the most disturbing story in Arvida – Jigai; the Japan-set gorefest – didn't spring whole from Archibald's mind, but was disquieted to think of it as an allegorical version of real life events. Overall, these stories were a little dull for me – and not least of all because every story about “monsters and haunted houses” contained logical explanations for quasi-supernatural events – but I can appreciate the purpose that they serve for Archibald and the memory of a town that doesn't even technically exist anymore.
October 21, 2015
Working class literature is a rarity in Canada, despite excellent examples from Morley Callaghan during the Great Depression and the powerful 2013 Giller Prize nominee "Cataract City" by Craig Davidson. The latter was set in Niagara Falls and offers a scathing commentary on the destruction of manufacturing jobs in central Canada and its impact on working people.
Now "Arvida," another fine book nominated for the 2015 Giller, portrays the hard-scrabble life of Francophone working class men and women in the Anglo-dominated resource town of Arvida in the Saguenay region of Quebec. In a series of somewhat interlinked short stories, Archibald traces the tough efforts of people to keep food on the table, the difficulties of keeping young people in the community when opportunities seem brighter in Montreal or Quebec City and the pressures on relationships that tear couples apart in a changing society. The rugged backdrop of Arvida itself, isolated and dependent on the ups and downs of the aluminum industry, becomes the texture that holds the book together.
Yet it becomes clear as you read these stories that it was not its working class roots that led to this book being short-listed for the Giller. Archibald writes vividly, with an energy and depth that gives these stories a graphic appeal and powerful impact that are rare. Especially stark is the "Blood Sisters" trilogy, with its mysterious combination of violence, repressed sexuality and familial intimacy -- all set in the frontier-like context of surrounding forests and threatening wildlife. Equally striking are the three "Arvida" segments -- with their strands of hunger, suicide and humour keeping the reader intensely engaged. I am not usually able to connect strongly to sets of short stories, but this book is so sharply written (and so ably translated from the original French) and so evocative of a particular place and social position that I was fully captured.
"Arvida" is published by a remarkable and innovative publisher, Biblioasis, located in my old home area Windsor. It is excellent to see such fine Quebecois writing being made accessible to English-speaking readers -- and even better to see this recognition in a Giller Prize shortlisting.
Now "Arvida," another fine book nominated for the 2015 Giller, portrays the hard-scrabble life of Francophone working class men and women in the Anglo-dominated resource town of Arvida in the Saguenay region of Quebec. In a series of somewhat interlinked short stories, Archibald traces the tough efforts of people to keep food on the table, the difficulties of keeping young people in the community when opportunities seem brighter in Montreal or Quebec City and the pressures on relationships that tear couples apart in a changing society. The rugged backdrop of Arvida itself, isolated and dependent on the ups and downs of the aluminum industry, becomes the texture that holds the book together.
Yet it becomes clear as you read these stories that it was not its working class roots that led to this book being short-listed for the Giller. Archibald writes vividly, with an energy and depth that gives these stories a graphic appeal and powerful impact that are rare. Especially stark is the "Blood Sisters" trilogy, with its mysterious combination of violence, repressed sexuality and familial intimacy -- all set in the frontier-like context of surrounding forests and threatening wildlife. Equally striking are the three "Arvida" segments -- with their strands of hunger, suicide and humour keeping the reader intensely engaged. I am not usually able to connect strongly to sets of short stories, but this book is so sharply written (and so ably translated from the original French) and so evocative of a particular place and social position that I was fully captured.
"Arvida" is published by a remarkable and innovative publisher, Biblioasis, located in my old home area Windsor. It is excellent to see such fine Quebecois writing being made accessible to English-speaking readers -- and even better to see this recognition in a Giller Prize shortlisting.
November 2, 2017
J'ai bien aimé ce livre, qui est en fait un recueil de nouvelles, particuli;erement par son côté rurale. Il décrit et raconte des histoires de chasses, de familles, de petits crimes qui ont tous en commun le village fictif (en fin je crois) d'Arvida, petit village éloigné de tout comme le Québec en contient tellement. Peut-être parce que j'ai grandi dans ce genre de village, ces histoires m'ont rejoint, m'ont fait rire, sourire, grimacé même parfois et révélé en moi une certaines nostalgie. Vraiment une belle surprise, comme c'est finalement toujours le cas lors que je lis Archibald... je devrais peut-être finir par considérer cet auteur de talent et arrêter de me surprendre moi-même à chaque fois!
October 20, 2015
Having now finished Samuel Archibald's Arvida I'm a little torn in regard to how I feel about it. My estimation of it certainly went up in the latter half, and the final story is forcing me to reassess my initial reactions to some of the earlier stories.
The collection is framed by a sequence of three stories entitled 'Arvida', which all begin with variations on the line: 'My Grandmother, mother of my father, often said: "There are no thieves in Arvida."' These three stories are narrated by 'Sam Archibald' and revolve around his grandmother, his father, uncles and neighbours in Arvida, a real town near the Sanguenay river in Quebec. The town is on its last legs, having been built around the alumin(i)um smelting industry which is in decline. These stories tell of the exploits of his father and uncles in the town's heyday and feature copious footnotes that expand on stories and character backgrounds. They're very much in the vein of Roch Carrier's stories, so I'm guessing this is a typical Quebecois style.
In between these three stories are eleven other tales, also set in and around Arvida, but this is a very different Arvida that bears little resemblance to the run-down municipality, despite the occasional appearance of names that suggest the two are the same place. This is an Arvida of folklore, of magical happenings, of ghosts and mythical creatures prowling the forests. Only one story takes place elsewhere - 'Jigai' which tells of a Canadian woman who arrives in Japan with "stones in her pockets". She is employed as a governess to Reiko, the daughter of a wealthy businessman and looks after her in the family manor house whilst the uncle is away for long periods. One day she walks in on Reiko cutting herself, but instead of trying to stop her she allows it and even encourages it. Soon the two are cutting each other in an increasingly sexualised ritual that escalates to the point where they are carving sculptures from skin by preventing the wounds from healing and chopping off each others' lips, eyelids, fingers and toes. When the women in the village see the "designs" on their flesh a sadomasochistic cult builds up - all of the women flaunt their new body art; an unlucky few lose an eye or a limb; others find their way to a mass grave on the grounds of the manor house.
That particular story is by far the most disturbing in the book but it gives a flavour of the kind of subjects the stories engage with (interestingly Stephen King is name-checked in two stories).
My two favourite stories in the collection are also the longest - 'Cryptozoology' in which a boy fleetingly sees an unidentifiable creature that may be a wolf or a large cat; and 'House Bound' in which a building contractor's renovation of an old house full of ghosts coincides with the breakdown of his marriage. These two seem to exist in a sweet spot between the realism of the 'Arvida' stories and the weirdness of stories like 'Jigai'. My problem with all of them though is that Archibald has a tendency to start his stories strongly but just when the stories should be reaching a climax his writing becomes increasingly opaque, poetic and dreamlike so that on a number of occasions I turned the final page only to be left scratching my head.
But then, right at the end of the book, comes the final 'Arvida' story in which 'Sam', now a young man, is on a fishing trip with his father. As a child Sam's grandmother has given him an old French language typewriter so that he can type up all the stories he is always coming up with. But Sam's problem, he confesses to his father, is not an inability to write, but a lack of stories to tell. He, unlike Proust, has no madeleine to bite into that will open the floodgates - he starts stories but doesn't know how to finish them (a-ha, I'm thinking), the endings interesting him less that the feeling the stories create. But, his father says, you do know your Grandmother's name was Madeleine, don't you? And suddenly Sam realises that the stories have been there all along, the folk tales and legends he grew up hearing, "stories of road trips, little thieves, and people weak in the head. Stories of monsters and haunted houses... Terrible stories that I'd never tell except by removing them to the opposite end of the world". And so, there may be no thieves in Arvida, but Sam becomes a borrower or a chronicler of this wealth of tradition and legend. Which is why I am forced to rethink my reaction to the rest of the book, which suddenly looks a lot cleverer than it first seemed.
I still think it is a mixed bag, but it is a mixed bag that I am coming to admire.
The collection is framed by a sequence of three stories entitled 'Arvida', which all begin with variations on the line: 'My Grandmother, mother of my father, often said: "There are no thieves in Arvida."' These three stories are narrated by 'Sam Archibald' and revolve around his grandmother, his father, uncles and neighbours in Arvida, a real town near the Sanguenay river in Quebec. The town is on its last legs, having been built around the alumin(i)um smelting industry which is in decline. These stories tell of the exploits of his father and uncles in the town's heyday and feature copious footnotes that expand on stories and character backgrounds. They're very much in the vein of Roch Carrier's stories, so I'm guessing this is a typical Quebecois style.
In between these three stories are eleven other tales, also set in and around Arvida, but this is a very different Arvida that bears little resemblance to the run-down municipality, despite the occasional appearance of names that suggest the two are the same place. This is an Arvida of folklore, of magical happenings, of ghosts and mythical creatures prowling the forests. Only one story takes place elsewhere - 'Jigai' which tells of a Canadian woman who arrives in Japan with "stones in her pockets". She is employed as a governess to Reiko, the daughter of a wealthy businessman and looks after her in the family manor house whilst the uncle is away for long periods. One day she walks in on Reiko cutting herself, but instead of trying to stop her she allows it and even encourages it. Soon the two are cutting each other in an increasingly sexualised ritual that escalates to the point where they are carving sculptures from skin by preventing the wounds from healing and chopping off each others' lips, eyelids, fingers and toes. When the women in the village see the "designs" on their flesh a sadomasochistic cult builds up - all of the women flaunt their new body art; an unlucky few lose an eye or a limb; others find their way to a mass grave on the grounds of the manor house.
That particular story is by far the most disturbing in the book but it gives a flavour of the kind of subjects the stories engage with (interestingly Stephen King is name-checked in two stories).
My two favourite stories in the collection are also the longest - 'Cryptozoology' in which a boy fleetingly sees an unidentifiable creature that may be a wolf or a large cat; and 'House Bound' in which a building contractor's renovation of an old house full of ghosts coincides with the breakdown of his marriage. These two seem to exist in a sweet spot between the realism of the 'Arvida' stories and the weirdness of stories like 'Jigai'. My problem with all of them though is that Archibald has a tendency to start his stories strongly but just when the stories should be reaching a climax his writing becomes increasingly opaque, poetic and dreamlike so that on a number of occasions I turned the final page only to be left scratching my head.
But then, right at the end of the book, comes the final 'Arvida' story in which 'Sam', now a young man, is on a fishing trip with his father. As a child Sam's grandmother has given him an old French language typewriter so that he can type up all the stories he is always coming up with. But Sam's problem, he confesses to his father, is not an inability to write, but a lack of stories to tell. He, unlike Proust, has no madeleine to bite into that will open the floodgates - he starts stories but doesn't know how to finish them (a-ha, I'm thinking), the endings interesting him less that the feeling the stories create. But, his father says, you do know your Grandmother's name was Madeleine, don't you? And suddenly Sam realises that the stories have been there all along, the folk tales and legends he grew up hearing, "stories of road trips, little thieves, and people weak in the head. Stories of monsters and haunted houses... Terrible stories that I'd never tell except by removing them to the opposite end of the world". And so, there may be no thieves in Arvida, but Sam becomes a borrower or a chronicler of this wealth of tradition and legend. Which is why I am forced to rethink my reaction to the rest of the book, which suddenly looks a lot cleverer than it first seemed.
I still think it is a mixed bag, but it is a mixed bag that I am coming to admire.
May 2, 2016
For me, the key to Arvida didn't appear until the final story in the collection, "Madeleines: Arvida III," when Samuel Archibald, describing his development as a writer, says,
Arvida's unevenness led to its 3-star rating, but I am glad that I read it and grateful to Biblioasis and the BTBA for introducing me to Archibald's voice.
I received a free copy of Arvida through Edelweiss in exchange for an honest review.
[T]here are always times when I get attached to stories that aren’t stories really, that begin without ending and never get anywhere. Possibilities, dreams, and missed rendezvous. Phantoms and absences.I was frustrated by the first six of the 14 stories in Arvida for precisely this reason: they didn't really feel like stories; they didn't go anywhere. I was sure that Arvida was shortlisted for the Best Translated Book Award ("BTBA") for a reason, though, and once Archibald found his stride, in "A Mirror in the Mirror," he took me to some very dark places indeed.
. . .
Nothing made writing more difficult for me than this fundamental impossibility. Like the anti-madeleines of my father in which all memory is swallowed up, the stories I like are untellable, or suffer from being told, or self-destruct in the very act of being formulated.
Arvida's unevenness led to its 3-star rating, but I am glad that I read it and grateful to Biblioasis and the BTBA for introducing me to Archibald's voice.
I received a free copy of Arvida through Edelweiss in exchange for an honest review.
June 15, 2016
Pas du tout ce à quoi je m'attendais. Surprenant, parfois intense, mais toujours prenant!
April 22, 2024
Difficile de séparer l'homme de l'œuvre... Surtout quand l'homme se prend pour une version saguenéene cheap de Proust.
«[Madeleine] se souvenait de son enfance et de son adolescence et de toute sa vie jusqu'au mariage, mais elle avait oublié Arvida. Sur le coup, j'aurais dû comprendre qu'il n'y avait rien de plus arvidien que d'oublier Arvida elle-même. »
En effet, Arvida n'est pas un livre dont je vais me souvenir.
«[Madeleine] se souvenait de son enfance et de son adolescence et de toute sa vie jusqu'au mariage, mais elle avait oublié Arvida. Sur le coup, j'aurais dû comprendre qu'il n'y avait rien de plus arvidien que d'oublier Arvida elle-même. »
En effet, Arvida n'est pas un livre dont je vais me souvenir.
November 3, 2015
Although well written, a few of these stories are very brittle, dark and hard to swallow. Some disturbing content here, folks. Just a heads up, for those who may have triggers from past abuse or trauma.
May 27, 2016
(Jigai)
Here is a prime example of my uneasiness with these tales. This example is mild compared to what it refers back to, what it implies, what it actually means to the reader. Writers should not be good news ambassadors, but they need to be internally consistent and respectful. I find neither here.
"We would have wanted to treat these stories as simple tales, and we would doubtless have succeeded in doing so, if these mutilated wives, sometimes amputated and blinded, had not strolled through the village streets in greater and greater numbers to display their wounds like brand new silk kimonos."
This is do like. This is fairy. Why couldn't you have stayed in this mode?
"Misaka says:
I came from the ends of the earth with pebbles in my pockets."
The Animal: BLOOD SISTERS II
I don't like much of these stories. They are either derivative, or phony or trying for meaning in a superior intellectual but enigmatic way and failing badly. And I especially find the stories about women to be disturbing, horrifying, and misogynistic. This is mild, but sinister in its own right. It feels like women's bodies, women's lives are used for purposes that are not clear to me, are not acceptable. These stories are appropriation. They are also close to pornography and exploitive.
"Monsieur Robertson turned his head a little and cried:
'Are you afraid?'
She wrapped her arms around him a bit tighter and said:
'No.'"
A Mirror in a Mirror
A bit of magic, perhaps.
"One day, she she found herself there [at the lake] at dusk, she felt as if a giant hand were lifting her up in its palm, and she let herself be carried off by the wind. For a long time it twirled her about like a cloth ripped from a clothesline, like a poplar leaf, like a speck of dust, just above the lake. She saw herself mirrored in its surface, and for once she found herself beautiful."
And so it begins, pretty good, but slowly goes downhill, disturbing, and not in a way I can accept.
"She'd always wanted to be blonde, but never dared.
It was only for those creatures who bleached their hair, creatures who wore culottes and cut their hair short. She had dark hair that she wore very long, flowing free, and she would have felt naked without its weighty shadow on the back of her neck. The creatures danced to jazz. Gemma idled at home, tranquil, dreaming of sweeping waltzes that no one danced any more, anywhere."
In the Fields of the Lord BLOOD SISTERS I
I have to include something that somewhat inspires me. This is nice description.
"...The blueberry plants were veritable bonsais clutching at the earth, raked by the seasons, doused, frozen, then buried under tons of snow. Every four years, in autumn, they were burned. In spring the earth was fed with their ashes and they rose from their own graves."
The first story BEGINS this collection of stories.
"My Father and Proust ARVIDA 1
MY GRANDMOTHER, mother of my father, often said:
'There are no thieves in Arvida.'
For a long time, it's true, there were only good people in Arvida. Honest and industrious Catholics, and the Protestant owners and managers of the aluminum plant, who were basically, if you could believe my father, good human beings. You could leave your tools lying around in the garage. You could leave car doors unlocked and house doors open."
November 22, 2020
Je peux comprendre pourquoi ce livre a gagné plusieurs prix, mais malheureusement, c'est loin d'être un coup de coeur pour moi. Étant habituellement fan des recueils de nouvelles, je n'ai pas été capable d'embarquer dans les différents univers présentés par Archibald. Sur 14 histoires, il n'y en a que 2 ou 3 qui ont su maintenir mon attention. Je n'ai pas su me retrouver dans les autres, trop décousues, avec une ligne narratrice floue, qui semblent ne pas avoir de buts. Peut-être était-ce justement l'objectif, de laisser le lecteur confus? Dans ce cas, c'est réussi. Même si je n'ai pas particulièrement aimé, je dois souligner la plume l'auteur, il y a une belle recherche et profondeur.
December 24, 2025
Ces histoires très variées sont intéressantes à lire mais dans certains cas, j'aurais aimé mieux comprendre les liens entre elles, quoi qu'elles n'en avaient possiblement pas. Natif moi-même d'Arvida, j'ai par contre beaucoup aimé les références locales tout au long du roman.
April 13, 2020
Un recueil d'histoires empreintes de plein d'affaires l'fun: nostalgie, enchantement, horreur, suspense, beauté, laideur, crime, etc. Elles ne sont pas toutes égales, mais au moins la moitié m'a vraiment captivé. On sent la proximité de l'auteur avec les sujets et les individus présentés. C'est très bon.
December 24, 2015
There's a reason Arvida has been sitting on my currently reading shelf for over two months.
Most of these stories are, at best, mediocre. It might have something to do with how little I can relate to life in a small town in rural Quebec-- but needless to say, good books should transcend things like that. There are a couple of moments where it seems like the stories will intensify into something memorable-- "A Mirror in a Mirror," "Blood Sisters" and maybe one or two others aren't super strong in themselves, but there's something in them that could have been worked into truly interesting stories. And even in their current form, they at least give you something to think about (as opposed to most of the others stories, which don't).
The exception to the generally mundane vibes is "Jigai" which legitimately made me cringe. In a better collection I might have appreciated it as a good moment of raw horror (and I mean horror as in I was horrified). As it is, it's just disturbing and I'm not 100% sure what purpose it served other than just... being disturbing (though I guess given that Archibald thinks all women are "terrifying and mysterious," you can see where he was going with it... weird places). I'm still unsure whether its just shock value or whether there's something else going on in there. Either way, it's pretty shaking.
That's it, those are the only points at which I had any reactions worth mentioning.
Most of these stories are, at best, mediocre. It might have something to do with how little I can relate to life in a small town in rural Quebec-- but needless to say, good books should transcend things like that. There are a couple of moments where it seems like the stories will intensify into something memorable-- "A Mirror in a Mirror," "Blood Sisters" and maybe one or two others aren't super strong in themselves, but there's something in them that could have been worked into truly interesting stories. And even in their current form, they at least give you something to think about (as opposed to most of the others stories, which don't).
The exception to the generally mundane vibes is "Jigai" which legitimately made me cringe. In a better collection I might have appreciated it as a good moment of raw horror (and I mean horror as in I was horrified). As it is, it's just disturbing and I'm not 100% sure what purpose it served other than just... being disturbing (though I guess given that Archibald thinks all women are "terrifying and mysterious," you can see where he was going with it... weird places). I'm still unsure whether its just shock value or whether there's something else going on in there. Either way, it's pretty shaking.
That's it, those are the only points at which I had any reactions worth mentioning.
January 23, 2018
Je m’attendais, en débutant Arvida (le livre) que j’en saurais rapidement plus sur Arvida (la ville). Le lecteur doit attendre la 11e nouvelle, 205 pages, avant que Samuel Archibald se mette en mode Wikipédia. Cette nouvelle, «Foyer des loisirs et des oublis, Arvida II» relate fabuleusement l’improvisation de cette municipalité autour de l’usine d’aluminium. J’aurais apprécié que l’éditeur insiste pour placer ce texte plus tôt dans le recueil.
Plusieurs nouvelles se distinguent par la force du récit, de l’intrigue et des personnages. Parmi celles-ci : «Cryptozoologie», «L’animal» et «Les derniers-nés». C’est toutefois la magistrale «Chaque maison double et duelle», l’avant dernier texte (et le plus long) qui satisfait le plus le lecteur.
En terminant la dernière phrase du recueil, je exclamé : WOW.
Merci Samuel Archibald.
Plusieurs nouvelles se distinguent par la force du récit, de l’intrigue et des personnages. Parmi celles-ci : «Cryptozoologie», «L’animal» et «Les derniers-nés». C’est toutefois la magistrale «Chaque maison double et duelle», l’avant dernier texte (et le plus long) qui satisfait le plus le lecteur.
En terminant la dernière phrase du recueil, je exclamé : WOW.
Merci Samuel Archibald.
April 14, 2019
A beautiful collection that plays with the usual predictability of these sorts of short story books.
Amid the expected character-strong stories exploring small town life, small town criminals, and the idiosyncrasies of Quebec and the vastness of Canada, there is a vast symbolic work like Jigai about two self-mutilating women in Japan. It adds a texture and a surprised variety to the work which might otherwise seem bucolic, emphasizing the universality of the themes.
The Last-Born and House Bound provide a mid ground leavened by lighter fare like some incompetent thugs trying their hand at border crossing. Archibald's prose is absurdly crisp and clean, lending a focused directness to the stories.
Hugely enjoyable and just weird enough to keep you on your toes.
.
Amid the expected character-strong stories exploring small town life, small town criminals, and the idiosyncrasies of Quebec and the vastness of Canada, there is a vast symbolic work like Jigai about two self-mutilating women in Japan. It adds a texture and a surprised variety to the work which might otherwise seem bucolic, emphasizing the universality of the themes.
The Last-Born and House Bound provide a mid ground leavened by lighter fare like some incompetent thugs trying their hand at border crossing. Archibald's prose is absurdly crisp and clean, lending a focused directness to the stories.
Hugely enjoyable and just weird enough to keep you on your toes.
.
November 9, 2024
Quel recueil étrange! J’ai adoré certaines nouvelles, apprécié plusieurs et été profondément dérangée par d’autres… C’était un heureux mélange de couleurs et de saveurs!
J’ai passé mon été dans la région du Saguenay (dont Arvida) et donc c’était chouette de pouvoir situer certains endroits que l’auteur mentionnait. L’atmosphère de forêt reculée, de nature sauvage, de portrait de famille et d’humains dérangés m’ont beaucoup plu.
Comme dans n’importe quel recueil de nouvelles, certaines plaisent plus que d’autres, mais je dirais que l’ensemble était très réussi!
J’ai passé mon été dans la région du Saguenay (dont Arvida) et donc c’était chouette de pouvoir situer certains endroits que l’auteur mentionnait. L’atmosphère de forêt reculée, de nature sauvage, de portrait de famille et d’humains dérangés m’ont beaucoup plu.
Comme dans n’importe quel recueil de nouvelles, certaines plaisent plus que d’autres, mais je dirais que l’ensemble était très réussi!
February 12, 2015
Inégal, mais avec quelques nouvelles très engageantes. Toutefois, un peu trop gore pour moi (je n'aurais peut-être pas du lire "Jigai" en déjeunant, non plus, par exemple). J'ai bien aimé la dernière nouvelle ("Madeleine") et la façon dont elle a relié, admis de manière vague et dépêché, le rapport à l'écriture et à l'héritage qu'a inspiré le recueil.
September 13, 2015
Plusieurs récits touchants inspirés d'une culture locale, remplis de nostalgie, d'humanité et d'un parfum d'espoir.
August 30, 2015
Couldn't bring myself to finish it.
January 12, 2016
Arvida is a collection of short stories by Canadian author Samuel Archibald. This collection was longlisted for the Scotiabank Giller Prize in 2015, which is one of Canada's most prestigious awards for literature.
There are fourteen well-crafted stories within, most of which I enjoyed very much. Whether or not you might enjoy this collection depends on your aesthetic tastes around what constitutes a good collection of stories. Please be aware that the following summary will be loaded with spoilers as pertains to the kind of content covered by the author; I will be vague about specifics, but discussing my impressions of the publication as a whole cannot be achieved without mentioning the topics covered.
On the one hand, there are nuanced stories tempered by dry wit about the narrator's family, set in the fictional town of Arvida (My Father and Proust, Madelienes, The Centre of Leisure and Forgetfulness). On the other, there are stories of a decidedly darker nature, which address incest and sexual abuse (The Animal), abusive relationships, mental and physical disabilities, animal abuse and haunted houses (House Bound), romantic abandonment and haunted houses (A Mirror in the Mirror), mental disabilities, social estrangement and attempted murder (The Last-Born), the grisly death of a sexually abusive father (Paris in the Rain), age-inappropriate relationships and suicide (In The Fields of the Lord), women who mutilate themselves, each other and willing villagers in an act of self-expression, possession and perhaps something darker (Jigai), a group of petty criminals who attempt to smuggle a woman over the border (America), a loathsome hateful man who's job it is to fly from city to city firing people (In The Midst of the Spiders) and an account of a fearsome jaguar/cougar hunting in the woods (Cryptozoology).
Just from a quick review of the above list, it's quite easy to see that there is a clear imbalance when it comes to the type of story that is hosted here. To be fair, the Arvida-themed stories have their shades of the macabre - in the Centre of..., one of the main characters has a very public coke habit; in Madelienes, the narrator mentions his quest for inspiration for his horror stories among his town's inhabitants. Even so, I feel like this collection is disjointed.
This is further exacerbated by the fact that the three stories set in Arvida are referred to as Arvida I, II and III along with their titles in the table of contents, but are spaced out in-between the other stories. There is another trilogy as well; three of the non-Arvida stories have the subtitle of Blood Sisters, I, II and III. These too are spaced out in-between the other content and are not consecutive. To add a bit more confusion, the first Arvida story starts off the collection, while the first Blood Sisters story is entry number six. I don't have the faintest idea why the stories are organized as they are, but I found it jarring and confusing to follow the respective threads between the three stories of each set, when they were spaced so oddly.
It's my personal preference that like be collected with like. I mean for this to be applied in a very abstract and thin manner; I don't need the subject matter to be the same, or the setting, or even the characters; but tone should be consistent, or at least flow from story to story.
If you like an extreme variety of tone (i.e., touching memories of a rousing hockey game in the town arena versus a story about two women in Japan that disfigure each other in excruciating acts, only to be destroyed by a demonic force), then this is the collection for you.
My favourite pieces were definitely of the darker calibre. In particular, I really liked the Blood Sisters stories. These were very strong, both technically and in the emotional wallop that they deliver. My only complaint is that the ending of the third story, and therefore the ending of the trilogy, seemed a little anti-climatic. I liked that the character was a survivor, and was carrying on with her life. I just wanted her to be more bad-assed. I don't really know what development would have achieved this for me, but... I wanted something more.
Click on the link for my favourite lines from the collection.
Recommended for fans of Canadian literature, people looking to read Giller prize nominations, people who enjoy short story collections, people who enjoy family histories, people who enjoy haunted houses, the macabre, the disturbing, taboo trauma, sexual/emotional abuse/survivors.
There are fourteen well-crafted stories within, most of which I enjoyed very much. Whether or not you might enjoy this collection depends on your aesthetic tastes around what constitutes a good collection of stories. Please be aware that the following summary will be loaded with spoilers as pertains to the kind of content covered by the author; I will be vague about specifics, but discussing my impressions of the publication as a whole cannot be achieved without mentioning the topics covered.
On the one hand, there are nuanced stories tempered by dry wit about the narrator's family, set in the fictional town of Arvida (My Father and Proust, Madelienes, The Centre of Leisure and Forgetfulness). On the other, there are stories of a decidedly darker nature, which address incest and sexual abuse (The Animal), abusive relationships, mental and physical disabilities, animal abuse and haunted houses (House Bound), romantic abandonment and haunted houses (A Mirror in the Mirror), mental disabilities, social estrangement and attempted murder (The Last-Born), the grisly death of a sexually abusive father (Paris in the Rain), age-inappropriate relationships and suicide (In The Fields of the Lord), women who mutilate themselves, each other and willing villagers in an act of self-expression, possession and perhaps something darker (Jigai), a group of petty criminals who attempt to smuggle a woman over the border (America), a loathsome hateful man who's job it is to fly from city to city firing people (In The Midst of the Spiders) and an account of a fearsome jaguar/cougar hunting in the woods (Cryptozoology).
Just from a quick review of the above list, it's quite easy to see that there is a clear imbalance when it comes to the type of story that is hosted here. To be fair, the Arvida-themed stories have their shades of the macabre - in the Centre of..., one of the main characters has a very public coke habit; in Madelienes, the narrator mentions his quest for inspiration for his horror stories among his town's inhabitants. Even so, I feel like this collection is disjointed.
This is further exacerbated by the fact that the three stories set in Arvida are referred to as Arvida I, II and III along with their titles in the table of contents, but are spaced out in-between the other stories. There is another trilogy as well; three of the non-Arvida stories have the subtitle of Blood Sisters, I, II and III. These too are spaced out in-between the other content and are not consecutive. To add a bit more confusion, the first Arvida story starts off the collection, while the first Blood Sisters story is entry number six. I don't have the faintest idea why the stories are organized as they are, but I found it jarring and confusing to follow the respective threads between the three stories of each set, when they were spaced so oddly.
It's my personal preference that like be collected with like. I mean for this to be applied in a very abstract and thin manner; I don't need the subject matter to be the same, or the setting, or even the characters; but tone should be consistent, or at least flow from story to story.
If you like an extreme variety of tone (i.e., touching memories of a rousing hockey game in the town arena versus a story about two women in Japan that disfigure each other in excruciating acts, only to be destroyed by a demonic force), then this is the collection for you.
My favourite pieces were definitely of the darker calibre. In particular, I really liked the Blood Sisters stories. These were very strong, both technically and in the emotional wallop that they deliver. My only complaint is that the ending of the third story, and therefore the ending of the trilogy, seemed a little anti-climatic. I liked that the character was a survivor, and was carrying on with her life. I just wanted her to be more bad-assed. I don't really know what development would have achieved this for me, but... I wanted something more.
Click on the link for my favourite lines from the collection.
Recommended for fans of Canadian literature, people looking to read Giller prize nominations, people who enjoy short story collections, people who enjoy family histories, people who enjoy haunted houses, the macabre, the disturbing, taboo trauma, sexual/emotional abuse/survivors.
October 9, 2022
When I think about it, the comedy darkens. The more I age, the more something tragic makes its presence felt, the sense of a bitter nostalgia at the core of all things: the idea of wanting to do something magnanimous for people who ask for nothing and are in need of nothing; the idea of a sacrifice reduced to a risible and secret simulacrum; the idea that the object of desire has nothing to do with desire itself; the idea that the fulfillment of desire never satisfies it, nor does it make it disappear…
…I was far away now, where no one could ever find me, but I soon realized that I’d chosen the identical land, that I had always been, as here, remote from the world, and there would be no elsewhere, never an elsewhere, until I transcended myself.
August 27, 2021
Pleins d’histoires, fictives et non-fictives. L’auteur exagère les vieilles histoires de familles et cela rend la lecture fabuleuse. Même si les histoires ne se suivent pas, elles ont comme thème commun Arvida (ville au Saguenay, où l’auteur a grandi). Dans la presse il dit : « Je vois ce livre comme un voyage. Un voyage dans le temps, parce qu'il y a un ping-pong entre aujourd'hui et hier. Un voyage dans l'imaginaire, dans mes cauchemars et mes rêves. Et un voyage dans mes souvenirs et dans ceux des gens que j'ai interviewés. Ces bonshommes sont tellement conteurs que tu sais que tu vas rester dans la fiction. Comme je ne voulais pas écrire un livre historique, ça faisait mon affaire. »
August 12, 2022
> Prix Coup de cœur Renaud-Bray 2012
> Prix des libraires 2012
> Finaliste au Prix littéraire des collégiens 2012
-C’est intrigant tout ça, non ? C’est tentant avec tous ces prix, non ? Eh bien. C’était plutôt décevant. Non pas que l’écriture n’est pas intéressante, mais les sujets et les histoires qui m’ont été contées sont dégoûtantes et/ou déroutantes. J’ai dû m’y reprendre à au moins trois reprises pour terminer la lecture de ce roman. Des sujets qui ne me touchent pas du tout, voilà tout.
> Prix des libraires 2012
> Finaliste au Prix littéraire des collégiens 2012
-C’est intrigant tout ça, non ? C’est tentant avec tous ces prix, non ? Eh bien. C’était plutôt décevant. Non pas que l’écriture n’est pas intéressante, mais les sujets et les histoires qui m’ont été contées sont dégoûtantes et/ou déroutantes. J’ai dû m’y reprendre à au moins trois reprises pour terminer la lecture de ce roman. Des sujets qui ne me touchent pas du tout, voilà tout.
September 29, 2025
Un monde sans mal
Petit recueil sur la vie rurale d’un village hypothétique du Canada.
Voilà le plus simple résumé possible de ce livre.
La plume est sympathique, pas trop pompeuse (si on oublie certains endroits) et les personnages peuvent se révéler intéressants, si on les regarde bien de près.
Les histoires sont nombreuses, assez variées, de quoi peindre le portrait d’une ville au travers de ses habitants, de leurs croyances, de leurs relations et leurs peurs.
Il ne s’agit pas d’un livre dont je me souviendrai toute ma vie, mais il ne me laisse pas un mauvais souvenir.
Petit recueil sur la vie rurale d’un village hypothétique du Canada.
Voilà le plus simple résumé possible de ce livre.
La plume est sympathique, pas trop pompeuse (si on oublie certains endroits) et les personnages peuvent se révéler intéressants, si on les regarde bien de près.
Les histoires sont nombreuses, assez variées, de quoi peindre le portrait d’une ville au travers de ses habitants, de leurs croyances, de leurs relations et leurs peurs.
Il ne s’agit pas d’un livre dont je me souviendrai toute ma vie, mais il ne me laisse pas un mauvais souvenir.
February 6, 2018
J'ai bien aimé ces quelques histoires d'un autre temps dans une région que je connais bien, avec même des personnages que je connais un peu... j'aurais aimé que le fil conducteur entre les histoires soit plus évident, mais c'est un point faible assez mineur. Mes histoires favorites sont de loin celles en lien avec la famille, la chasse ou le village. Je dirais un livre qui a quelque chose d'un peu mal foutu, ce qui fait en même temps son charme.
August 3, 2018
I hardly ever read short stories, and then when I do I end up with this. Most of the stories are—I think intentionally?—somewhat oblique, and I get tired of not knowing fully what's going on. That is okay sometimes! (Or many times.) But here I found it obnoxious—because the sentences are rather bland, to me, and not taking risks. I couldn't really grasp hold of any of the material: it all felt too flimsy and ethereal to dig into in any constructive way. I hope this is making sense.
August 18, 2023
Je pense pas je chillerais avec mais y'écrit bien en maudit le mausus. La seconde moitié du livre (après le traumatisme qu'est jigai) a feelé plus personnelle et l'ensemble de sa démarche m'est devenu plus apparente. Le format fonctionne bien et sa plume le supporte adroitement. Overall une recommandation pour quelqu'un qui a envie de lire du queb rural pas trop bleu mais qui touche a plein d'aspects de nous.
September 10, 2019
Du beau joual. J'suis tombée en amour.
"Mon gendre s'est même acheté une auto qui parle. Elle lui dit à tout bout de champ qu'il s'est trompé de chemin et je veux bien être pendu si je laisse un jour une machine me parler sur ce ton-là"
"Sur les monts, à ce temps-ci de l'année, la noirceur te tombe dessus comme une trahison, entre deux battements de paupières."
"Mon gendre s'est même acheté une auto qui parle. Elle lui dit à tout bout de champ qu'il s'est trompé de chemin et je veux bien être pendu si je laisse un jour une machine me parler sur ce ton-là"
"Sur les monts, à ce temps-ci de l'année, la noirceur te tombe dessus comme une trahison, entre deux battements de paupières."
February 2, 2025
Je donne à ce livre 3,5 étoiles. Très bien écrit, mais sans continuité… D’un chapitre à l’autre, des histoires différentes et dont certaines m’ont été incompréhensibles… J’ai tout de même voulu aller jusqu’au bout… Ça en valait la peine car les meilleurs histoires sont à la fin… L’auteur a une très belle plume.
June 8, 2017
I am conflicted about this one. Most of the stories did not connect with me but Archibald's writing style was really easy and enjoyable to read. I didn't always understand the choices he made with some of the endings of the stories. A few of them did read like fairy tales and I enjoyed those.
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