Eucalyptus (Fiction)

by Mauricio Segura

Après avoir passé toute sa vie à Montréal, un homme rentre au Chili. Son père est mort. Il vient lui rendre les derniers hommages. Très vite, il se rend compte que ceux qui ont fait le choix de partir ne sont pas nécessairement les bienvenus quand ils rentrent au pays des ancêtres. Entre les enracinés et les déracinés plane un malentendu qui rend le retour impossible. Surtout dans cette famille juive qui, d’Andalousie en passant par Thessalonique, est venue enfin s’échouer dans ce finistère qu’est le sud du Chili, terre à la fois d’une folle générosité et d’une indicible cruauté. Terre ancestrale des Indiens mapuches, que domine la cime neigeuse du volcan Llaima et qui est recouverte du vert intense des eucalyptus, cet arbre venu de l’autre côté du monde qui pousse à une vitesse phénoménale et qui menace de tout engloutir. Dans ce roman bref, construit comme un polar, Mauricio Segura propose une réflexion à la fois grave et profondément émouvante sur les liens, insaisissables, indénouables, qui unissent les hommes à la terre. Le profond pessimisme qui hante son récit donne un relief remarquable au destin de ses personnages, écartelés entre plusieurs cultures, plusieurs âges et plusieurs continents.

Genres: Canada, Fiction, France

131 pages, Kindle Edition

First published March 23, 2010

About the author

Né à Temuco, au Chili, Mauricio Segura est arrivé au Canada à l’âge de cinq ans. Romancier et journaliste, il fait paraître, au Boréal, Côte-des-Nègres (1998), Bouche-à-bouche (2003), Eucalyptus (2010), Oscar (2016) et Viral (2020). Il œuvre dans le milieu de la télévision à titre de scénariste et collabore au magazine L’Inconvénient.

Reviews

[Julie]

8.5/10

Memory and imagination only exacerbate suffering, become prisons themselves.

This is a novel of homecoming -- and implied in every homecoming is the act of desertion. What is it that one left behind? What is it one hopes to return to? Somewhere between the act of desertion and return lies the truth one tells oneself. But for some, there is no truth at all, since memory becomes corroded, and is shaped by all the lies that each participant has told him/herself in order to survive. Each lie is a different coating on the memory; and as with each coat, a new garment is spun, so that the skin takes on a different hue, a different weight. What one remembers, in the end, is often not at all what happened in the first place.

This is also a novel of invasion -- and implied in each invasion is the act of concession. What is it that one yearns for when one imposes one's will on another person, country, and takes possession? What is it one concedes to, when there is no way out? Does one concede willingly or does one do it with bitterness, with rancour, with vengeance in one's heart?

Layers upon layers of dusty memory fight in the mind of Alberto, the itinerant son, who returns home, too late, and only just in time to pay respects to his father at his funeral. The (physical) distance he had put between himself and his father seems only to grow, the closer he gets to him geographically, and so opens the conundrum of memory: why did I remember him the way I did? What did I want to keep sacred, whether in love or hate?

There is a line of wonderful symbolism which pulls the story along, like a child pulling one of those wooden toys on a string, that clack rhythmically along behind the child, keeping pace: the volcano, keeping pace with the rhythm of nature and all life, and occasionally lending its voice; but ultimately disgorging a silence greater than sound, for ... ... the volcano [kept] sleeping far off, stately and peaceful.

In this deeply-entangled exploration of memory and homecoming ... somewhere between austere truth and outright lies, there lies a deeply complicated answer for all those who think they have all the answers.

[Wendy · Rating 4 out of 5]

a quiet exploration of a father’s death, through enigmatic layers of memory and homecoming. the writing is lovely.

[V S. · Rating 4 out of 5]

we are all from somewhere only as long as the memory holds

[Isla McKetta · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mauricio Segura's gorgeously-written Eucalyptus helped me unearth memories of living in Chile and taught me to be a better writer. Not bad for 150 pages. For thoughts on his fantastic use of language and a few insights into my international childhood, read the full review at A Geography of Reading.

[Susie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Alberto retourne au Chili pour enterrer son père. Là, il redécouvre sa famille, son pays d'origine, et surtout son père. Chaque connaissance lui racontera des brides de la vie de son père, et bientôt il se demandera comment celui-ci est mort.

[Meg]

Shades of Rashomon, everyone has a different version of the story. A father's death brings out everyone's feelings and grudges.

[Aly]

Je ne peux pas donner de note à ce roman parce que je l'ai trouvé bien écrit et très bien construit, mais je n'ai pas aimé le sentiment qu'il m'a laissé.