Simon and Marie can't seem to have a baby. They decide to flee the city for an idyllic village, where things, they tell themselves, must be better. But their new home is gloomy, threatening, tinged with tragedy – things have not been the same since the factory closed down and the broadcast antenna was erected. In the trees, no birds are singing, and people have started disappearing…
The Country Will Bring Us No Peace is celebrated Québécois author Matthieu Simard’s first work to be translated into English and published in the UK; a strange and poignant novella exploring grief and its aftermath.
I cannot believe this book only has 9 reviews on good reads. I read it in one sitting and I am absolutely enamoured by it. I would give it a million stars if I could. It is one of the most surreal and atmospheric books I’ve ever read.
It follows Simon and Marie’s complicated relationship as they’re trying for a baby whilst having moved to a small village, after leaving the big city. The residents are hostile and they have such bizarre interactions with them. Everyone blames the down fall of the village on the erection of a broadcast antenna but no one will say more. Every part of this village and every character in the story felt as though they were just tipping over the line between reality and the otherworldly.
It is blurbed by another author as “a horror story with the horror drained out of it” and that is the perfect description of this little piece of magic. It’s the emptiness and isolation that is so haunting. The story also centres around grief, and how we can behave and react to grief in weird and potentially harmful ways.
The prose is so beautiful without failing to get the point. Not a single word felt wasted.
This was such a compelling, eery and atmospheric read following one grief stricken couple and their attempt to escape to the countryside. I would be sooo intrigued to consume this book in its original format as the translation was written superbly!!! I can't emphasise enough how quiet, desolate and completely isolating this book feels, all whilst lacing a sliver of hope between its pages.
I did unfortunately expect more from this but it is one I definitely want to revisit it and would (no doubt) gain something new with every reread. Definitely recommend! 3.75 stars
Loved the premise: A couple struggling to conceive moves to the country for peace and solace, only to be met with suspicion from the locals and rumors of something sinister in the air. The craft of the novel is interesting in that the future of the couple is revealed early on and yet relevant facts about their past are doled out slowly, leaving the reader searching for clues. I can forgive myself for picking this one up.
Sadly, however, the execution is unsatisfying on many levels. Though the couple had a very strong hand in terms of eliciting sympathy from the reader, I could only muster dry crumbs of concern for them. Not only are they unlikeable, which I can get over, they are uninteresting and annoying, which is harder to forgive. The dialogue throughout the novel doesn't ring true and relationships feel contrived (especially the couple's rapport with the Lavoies, which becomes increasingly irritating as the story progresses). Worst of all for me, the writing strains to be poetic and deep, without much success.
Spoilers ahead: I also had a problem with the fact that the author clearly wants readers to see a kind of strange and sophisticated beauty in the couple's decision to
We tell ourselves lies in order to survive. Trade them, like kids with their old toys. In this town that's a foreign land to us, we'll learn to invent those truths that provide the greatest succour. I now know we'll never be able to forget the past, but that's exactly what we're trying to do, despite it all. Forget the past, love each other in the present moment. Cut off from the world, we'll conceal our scars beneath the sleeves of our false hopes. When we die a few months from now, it will be the most beautiful clay of our lives. Until then we'll survive, just as long as our secrets remain intact.
The Country Will Bring Us No Peace has been translated by Pablo Strauss from Quebecois author Matthieu Simard's 2017 novel Ici, ailleurs. The translation was originally published in Canada in 2019 by Coach House Books and is now published in the UK by the independent small press Influx Press, winners of the Republic of Consciousness Prize 2018, the year I was part of the Prize jury.
This is a wonderful novel, the perfect length (125 pages), one that is both hauntingly strange at times, and brutally moving at others.
It opens with a preface which both sets the scene while posing more questions than it answers:
The silence came down on us like rain one Thursday, and we spent years submerged in it. The birds fell silent and rusty hinges stopped squeaking and no children hollered in the schoolyard. The passenger-side car speaker died; dead leaves ceased to rustle in the wind. Just silence. That was three years ago, far from here. We've weathered hundreds of storms since then. And each time she's been there to tap me on the shoulder and remind me of the days before. Forty years from now there will be nothing left of us. Our memory and the photographs and the recollections of those who disappeared will all be gone, like the notes from a cello in the ruins of an old house.
The novel switches between two first person narrators, Simon and Marie, a married couple. They have just moved from the city to a house in a rural village, attempting to rebuild their lives after a past trauma, and to try for a child.
The locals greet them rather oddly and with suspicion. There are what might best be described as Lynchian features: frequent but opaque references to the 'old man' who lived in the house before them, who everyone claims that everyone else dislikes; an abandoned playground which the locals warn them not to visit; mutterings about "the antenna" whose arrival has blighted the village; Alice an enigmatic deaf-mute girl; Fisher, the local jack-of-all-trades who greets the couple by forcefully kissing Marie; the local store owner who seems to hate his job; the cafe owner who both serves them with a smile but makes it clear they aren't welcome; and an annoyingly smugly happy family of out-of-towners, the Lavoies.
That things will end violently is prefigured in the early pages:
At this point we don't know that we're going to be the murder-suicide' couple. An episode of domestic violence that will briefly make the news and have everyone shaker up for about five minutes, before they forget all about it the moment they turn off their TVs because it's getting late and it's time to go to bed. No one wants to be exhausted the next day. Fisher will say he didn't see it coming, and the Lavoies will say, 'They seemed like such nice people.' Alice won't say a single word. And the blood from our veins will seep into the cracks in the floor of this old house we just bought. But it's also possible that we knew, even then. That it's been in us for years, just waiting to find the right place, the tiniest of sparks, the correct tool. We came here so as to no longer be there, and we aren't leaving.
But as the novel progresses, the secrets of both the couple and the local village become painfully clear and the prefigured ending turns out to be much more moving than the above might suggest.
Joseph's review brings out some other aspects of the novel including the subtitle, on thet title page, "a novel without music", which I had missed: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
Recommended and a contender for next year's International Booker.
I don’t really understand the fascination with this novella. Maybe I lack context or the needed experience to let it flow through me, but it is what it is: I had high expectations and the reality was nowhere near them.
First of all, I don’t understand why it’s considered to be a horror. It’s not. In any part of it.
And then – it’s just mediocre in pretty much every possible way.
The best thing about this book is that it’s short, so I didn’t waste too much time on it.
Simon and Marie have recently left the city behind to move to the country after losing their 3 year old daughter. They relocated in hopes of a brighter future, one in which they have another child.
The town however is hostile. They'll be kind to them for their business but they don't want them to stay and live there. And they definitely don't want them asking any questions.
An antenna was erected in the center of town. Since then birds have stopped singing, shops are going out of business, and folks are moving away or simply disappearing.
Will they find salvation in a town with a dwindling heartbeat? You'll have to read this to find out.
Okay, so this wasn't quite the book I was expecting when I chose it for spooky season. The horror here is of the grief variety. That said, I was not at all disappointed. Melancholic, atmospheric, and beautifully written with a gut wrenching conclusion that will haunt you long after turning the final page. 4 stars!
Originally published in French in 2017. Translated to English by Pablo Strauss. Published by Influx Press in 2021.
Simard's novella is oblique and overwhelmingly atmospheric, poignantly capturing the brutal complexity of grief, its ever-present shadow, its lingering rawness, and the indelible physical and mental stain it inflicts.
Hope bobs and weaves in minute bursts in this short, painful story; yet time seems boundless in the spaces couple Simon and Marie navigate, leaving ample room for the past to fester.
Leaving the city behind in search of pastures new, the village they find themselves settling in itself has its own unnerving ambience.
A beautiful and bleak book, wonderfully written and perfectly encapsulating the human condition.
The novella was originally published in French in 2017 as Ici, ailleurs and has just been issued by Coach House Books in an English translation by Pablo Strauss. It is narrated from two alternating points of view – that of Simon and Marie, a couple who have moved to a house in the country, in a bid to settle down to a quieter life. The protagonists are desperately trying to have a child and their obsession about this seems to be pushing them apart. It is clear that there was – and quite possibly still is – a great love between them, but by now, little lies and secrets have become a daily characteristic of their relationship. Despite their optimistic plans, something is not quite right about the village where they have chosen to live. At first, the villagers seem quite friendly – even too friendly perhaps. Yet, they also make it immediately clear that the couple are not wanted here and will always be considered as outsiders... just like Simon and Marie’s neighbours, the Lavoies, who with their picture-perfect family and showy materialistic lifestyle, could not be more different from our couple – or from the community which has (not) welcomed them.
The villagers also make vague allusions to tragic occurrences in the community’s past and, particularly, to some dark story which seems to be linked to previous occupier of the house where Simon and Marie live. They are even warned to leave “for their own good”.
Simard builds an atmosphere of dread around the village. It often feels bleak and silent, as if even the birds have lost their song. This lack of sound is a recurring theme – on the title page, the work is described or subtitled as “a novel without music”; the cello which Marie used to play and which she carried with her to the village sits silent in its case; a mysterious young woman roams the streets, allegedly deaf and dumb after a mysterious accident; no children can be heard playing in the park or the surrounding forest; the birds no longer sing. Ominously overlooking the village stands a much-hated antenna, which is seemingly the cause of the all the community’s woes or, perhaps, just a sentinel or witness to the daily tragedies of life. After all, as Marie points out:
Every town has its stories. Dark secrets, accidents, disappearances…Every little town has the same stories, and they’re always a lot like our own.
In The Country Will Bring Us No Peace, Matthieu Simard has given us a strange yet poignant novella. It is a portrayal of grief and its aftermath, whether in a family or, more widely, in a community. Yet, the strong elements of realism are also combined with the more fantastical flavours of genre fiction: the mysteries and secrets surrounding the small town would not be out of place in a thriller or crime novel, while the uncanny elements (what exactly is the antenna all about? And what is really happening in the forest?) skirt the boundaries of speculative and weird fiction. There's even a dose of humour in the dialogue.
In just over a hundred pages, Simard distils material which lesser authors would have padded out into a tome. The novella delivers gut-and-heart-wrenching twists in a language which, throughout, retains a distinctive, elegiac lyricism expertly conveyed in this English translation by Pablo Strauss. This is a special book.
Peace is a momentary void between two conflicts. My blood hurts; my blood will hurt forever.
The Country Will Bring Us No Peace is a novel of grief written in sparse, beautiful prose. The composition of the poetic title alone (attributed to William Carlos Williams at the start of the book) is a good representation of what you will find inside and the tone is set early on (even the dedication in its brief, melancholic simplicity). It really isn't horror though, despite the Goodreads classification and the set-up of the story - grieving couple leaves the city seeking a fresh start and installs themselves in a rural town where they are strangers. There are mysteries, such as the apparent absence of birds and the outright hostility of the bitter townspeople to the newcomers, but these mysteries seem not to touch Simon and Marie too deeply as they float through this purgatory created by all encompassing grief and their own self-imposed isolation. The last 30 pages or so bumped this up from a 4 star read for me. I thought it was beautiful and some of the passages will haunt me and I'll revisit them.
Forty years from now there will be nothing left of us. Our memory and photographs and the recollections of those who disappeared will all be gone, like the notes from a cello in the ruins of an old house.
Ominious undertone from the very first page. Doesn't read like a translated book at all - the language is smooth and poignant. What an impressive feat.
A surrealist story that pulled me in with its ambiguous setting and characters and left me haunted by a town that leaves you with more questions than answers.
I really don't get why everyone is raving about this book? I have a feeling this is a case of horrible translation and maybe if i read It in french It would've been a lot more atmospheric. I kept having the feeling something was lost in translation. Also plot wise i was told this was a horror book and i for me It felt very short in that department, It was depressing for sure. I also felt there were a lot of elements that served no real purpose to the story yet the story revolved arround them. So i'm either missing something huge or i don't understand the ratings
This is one of those books that I regret letting sit on my shelves for so long.
The uneasiness that permeates through this book is so intense. Quiet horror like this is my favourite because I enjoy the ambiguity of what is scaring me. There is so much to feel strange about in this book without ever really being able to work out exactly why. The atmosphere and characters are so disquieting.
Grief horror has become one of my favourite sub-genres. Grief consumes. Once you're in it, it takes over completely. This book is very much about the aftermath of grief, in both the loss of a person you love (trigger: in this case a child) and the slow death of a small town. It explores how grief changes and affects everything.
As I was reading I couldn't help but compare my experience with other books I've enjoyed. I was reminded of FEVER DREAM as I read. Both books share a troubling undertone throughout and explore parent-child relationships in some way. They both feel foggy and disorientating as you read and are also tragic in different ways.
This is an emotional, gut-punch of a story that also succeeds at putting you on edge within the space of 125 pages. It's beautifully written and impeccably translated. I am BEGGING for more Simard to be translated. I highly recommend this if quiet horror that leans a little weird is your thing. Clear your diary for a couple of hours and enjoy.
▪️the concept of this sounded so eerie and creepy but the actual execution didn't achieve that as well as i thought it was going to ▪️i enjoyed the small town feel and the attempt at atmosphere and tension being created, it worked some times and other times it came across as quite cheesy thriller vibes ▪️also big pet peeve that there are no chapters and it is just broken up by page breaks and tying into this, the perspectives were then difficult to follow as it follows both simon and marie but because it's just separated by page breaks it's difficult to realise if the narrative has changed
Čitala sam dosta knjiga i gledala filmove iz tog dela sveta (ne samo Gzavijea Dolana, khm, ima Kvebek i drugih režisera, Deni Arkon, Žan Mark Vale, pa na kraju krajeva i Deni Vilnev je Kvebečanin) i ne mogu da se otmem utisku da je tamo nebo neprestano sivo i tmurno, a da su ljudi nesrećni na neki čudan način, tipa da sa istom tragedijom doživljavaju zatvaranje lokalne pekare i smrt bliskog člana porodice.
Imam i ja neki deo porodice u Kanadi. Pošalju slike, na slikama ponekad sunce i plavo nebo i beli oblačić. I ja tripujem da je možda to nebo kartonsko, nacrtano, što nema nikakvog smisla, ali meni cela Kanada deluje tako daleko, beživotno (nikad nisam bila u Kanadi), da je više koncept nego što mislim da zaista postoji kao mesto gde neko živi, životari.
U ovoj knjižici, prva stvar što upada u oči je grozan prevod. Lik je bukvalno preveo knjigu sa francuskog na engleski (jedino je engleska verzija bila dostupna za džabe pa sam nju čitala) kao što bi to uradio Gugl Translejt. Znači bukvalan prevod izreka. Celu knjigu ne mogu da dođem sebi koliko je loše, ali na poslednjoj strani ima slika autora i prevodioca koji ima onako stidljiv, kereći osmeh pa 'ajde da mu oprostim.
Autoru vala nemam šta da praštam, knjiga je da se prekrstiš i levom i desnom, dakle muž i žena koji kupe kuću u nekoj vukojebini jer ne uspevaju da začnu dete pa će valjda priroda (?) da pomogne, ali ne lezi vraže, grad je pun nekakvih misterija i domoroci im vrlo ljubazno kažu "Ej bre ljudi mi stvarno, ALI STVARNO, ne volimo došljake, bolje se vratite odakle ste došli" i oni naravno ne slušaju jer su... Glupi? I onda se razvlači jedno sto strana, nikakav klimaks, nekakva bedna objašnjenja, pa se valjda i autoru smuči i sve bude gotovo u jednom paragrafu (ali koji ima vrrrrlo Tvin Piksičan vajb, pa eto zvezdica za to).
I’m in a weird place with this one. It ended up being a 2 star for me and going into my "Corner of Shame" shelf but I didn’t actually hate the book. I thought the writing was lovely for the most part. It did take longer than I’d originally anticipated. I saw the page count and thought I’d breeze through it in a day or two and ended up taking 9 days to get through it. I kept having to go back and read over bits again and I’m not sure why because my focus was there and it’s written well enough to be an easy read but for some reason it ended up taking a lot longer than it should’ve. I will say I did not like any of the characters all that much and while I found Marie to be pretty horrible, I want to smack the shit out of Simon for doing literally fuck all nothing to protect his wife from being assaulted by Fisher and I just plain want to kick Fisher’s ass. Like I’m sorry his life has been absolute shit but that does not make it ok for him to act like a rapey, predatory prick. I did like that we got the story from more than one perspective and got to dip into the thoughts and experience of both Simon and Marie. Often when a story deals with the death of a child like this, you tend to just get one parent’s POV so it was interesting to see both sides of it. One thing I found weird though that I wasn’t overly fond of was how they would kind of tell you certain things ahead of time as they told the story. Like there was a part where one of them referenced that they would be dead later that day or something along those lines and it just felt kind of spoilery to me even though I saw it coming pretty early on. There were just different moments like that where statements were made that just felt like spoilers and it frustrated me a little because if you’re just going to tell me in advance then why should I bother to keep reading?
I think the book is pretty depressing and that whole town is just sad as hell. I thought the story did a good job of capturing grief and showing an uglier side of it as well as the fact that not everyone is capable of moving on from it and getting back to “normal” life. I also think the author did a great job in portraying the tragic death and decay of your typical small town. Unfortunately, the way the story was painted and the way it built up, I expected something far more sinister and creepy to be going on. I mean you’ve got this rundown town that’s quickly becoming a ghost town more and more, leftover locals that aren’t welcoming and seem creepy and sinister at times, warnings against certain parts of the town, the antenna that everyone is fixated on which seems to have some strange effect on Simon, this mystery of the Old Man and his house that no one wants to speak about, and then Simon’s weird bowling alley filled with dead people in the woods experience which kind of gave me momentary Overlook Hotel ballroom/the Shining vibes. I wandered between theories of the town really being some sort of purgatory they were all stuck in and maybe Simon was the old man and Alice was a grown version of his late daughter trying to help guide him to the afterlife or possibly the antenna was some great evil brainwashing and mind controlling people and it was going to get Simon and Marie too or bring about their demise somehow whether it be from the townsfolk or Simon/Marie going nuts and using the gun on them both murder/suicide style. There was just so much weird and seemingly cryptic shit that I really expected more than what I ended up getting so to have the last 10 pages boil down to “Oh, so the grandson of the former owner of your home (who also happens to be the son of the rapey mechanic dude and the nephew of the fake deaf girl) climbed the antenna and fell from it, breaking his neck and becoming paralyzed, and it just really upset everyone and fucked people up too much.” was just a huge let down. I also hated the final ending of them killing themselves. It just felt like such a cheap, throwaway ending and made everything else I’d read up to that point feel like a waste of time. I guess I’m just underwhelmed and extremely disappointed. The synopsis seemed to promise so much and was building up nicely enough but failed to deliver in the end. It just kind of felt to me like the author had a good general idea but either couldn’t quite figure out how to connect all the pieces or didn’t know where exactly to go with it and realized he was down to the last few pages and just said “Fuck it.”
This was lyrical, haunting, gorgeous - absolutely one of the best books I've ever read and this is for sure going on my top books of 2023 later this year. Despite the short length, every piece of prose in this feels intentional and deliberate. We navigate between Simon and Marie's perspective as they relocate to a new town in pursuit of a fresh start as they try to conceive a child, and despite the book deliberately referencing the ending events several times, it still took me by surprise in its execution. The backstory and dual timelines the book eventually introduces help provide a lot of context and keep you intrigued enough to see how the events of the ending unfold.
The book speaks so well to the transience of existence and the permanence of grief; our characters are all deeply burdened by their past traumas, and the small town is hardly bereft of its own secrets. The portrayal of grief and guilt are some of the best I've ever read, and there is SO many quotations I couldn't help but highlight in this.
This is short enough you can read it in a single sitting, and if you're a fan of unsettling books (it's more of a literary horror than an outright horror novel), I think you'll really enjoy this. Despite the translation it feels like none of the nuance is lost and I really enjoyed the antenna subplot and how it evolves over the novel. If you enjoyed Monstrilio, This Thing Between Us and/or Our Wives Under the Sea then I think you'll enjoy the writing and themes in this too.
Before I start complaining, let me first state what I enjoyed about this book.
One of the things I really did like was the vibes of this book. It was lonely, melancholy, and haunting, and it gave the story a good edge where it needed it. It really echoed the meaning of the title. I also like that the characters have plenty (plenty) of flaws. I came into this book kind of expecting it to be a psychological horror-esque story where an innocent couple has bad shit happen to them in the country, or whatever, but no! Very much not that, and I'm glad my expectations were subverted. I also liked that a good amount of the characters and the characters' reactions/interactions were pretty unpredictable and kept me on my toes
Now, onto the stuff I wasn't a fan of.
First off all, this book was painfully hard to keep reading. Initially, it wasn't exactly boring. It was the strange issue of "I'm not bored when I'm reading it, but if I put it down I can't bring myself to pick it up again." Eventually, it did kind of get hard to push through it because the plot just dragged, but that was what I felt for a solid chunk of the book. This was a short story that could've taken me a couple days to finish if I was actually really interesting, but instead it took me an annoying ten days. The book was filled with nice prose, but when it felt like nothing was happening and we just kept getting weird scenes (I'll get there) and unexplained reactions from the main characters, I was just like can we hurry this up already? God.
I did talk about how I liked that the characters have flaws, but honestly, the main characters were so flawed that they just felt kind of insufferable. There were some sweet moments between them, but at times they felt so asshole-ish that I didn't really want to keep reading from their point of view. Honestly, they really only got interesting when it's revealed that their kid died. And even then, we just got continuous monologues about them mourning that – which is the point – but it also means nothing is happening. Just another thing that frustrated me while reading.
Regarding the "weird scenes" I mentioned... I'm wondering if it's just a different culture or something (I noticed this was translated from French) because... there's scenes where this guy, Fisher, just... kisses the wife of the main couple in the story? On the LIPS? In a public bar?? And she does absolutely nothing, and so does her husband?? I was sitting there baffled while reading that – and the husband does punch Fisher later, but I was still sitting there like what?? And then Fisher kisses her (albeit on the forehead) AGAIN! And she barely does anything! Only once he sexually assaults/gropes her does she physically react. Genuinely baffling scenes and made me utterly confused about what was going on.
As for another scene... I usually don't read trigger warnings or anything of the sort, and to be honest, it isn't treated as something fine, but seeing an abrupt basically rape scene because the wife forces her husband to have sex with her?? (It is, thankfully, quick.) What?? And it's not treated as a good thing but it feels like it's kind of there then gone, and I'm sitting there like what the actual hell? I don't know, it's less of the lack of a trigger warning and moreso how jarring it is to have and then sort of brushed off... it was just really weird.
And then the ending itself (which was actually spoiled in the beginning, which I originally wasn't a huge fan of) feels like it comes out of nowhere. Them wanting to join their kid or whatever, yeah, but... there's almost nothing in the book that's supernatural? Are they hallucinating?? I honestly expected them to fight, or something, because that'd feel more natural than what this ended with. Truthfully, I think it narratively works, but it honestly feels out of the blue.
There also this random thing about an antenna being a huge deal in the town, but I never really understood it. I've talked a lot, so I won't really get into it, but it was honestly kind of confusing that it was so important in the story. Maybe just a me thing – I'm not from the country.
Overall, interesting vibes and characters, bogged down mostly by an incredibly slow plot. With extra tidbits such as insufferable characters, weird scenes, and baffling story decisions, I'm giving this 2.25 stars. The vibes were decent, and I liked the dead kid thing and how doomed the couple was, but man. This book was hard to keep reading.
I just loved this heart-breaking little book. Short it may be, but so powerful and moving. It tells the story of Simon and Marie who flee to the country where they hope their desire to have a baby will come to fruition. But village life is rarely the expected idyll and things turn out to be much stranger and more sinister than they could ever have imagined. I’m not going mention more about the storyline as the less known in advance the better. Suffice it to say this is a novel about profound grief and loss, lies and secrets. Menace and foreboding pervade the pages and I felt compelled to read it at one sitting. One of the saddest books I have ever read. Highly recommended.