There are never too many good books

It's another prosperous year for Quebec literature, which is no longer exceptional in the long run – yes, we have the right to boast.

Quality, diversity and abundance have become so commonplace that in all the reviews or in my Christmas shopping suggestions, I no longer know which way to take the vast annual production which culminates each time with a Salon du Montreal book full to the brim. So, be warned: all the books cited in this column are recommendations that will hit the mark in your gift exchanges.

HAS The Pressin addition to having offered you this fall a large file on the new classics of literature which relaunched some titles in bookstores and libraries, we covered these books which marked 2024. For example, Asbestos by Sébastien Dulude, The ocean's share (and its companion in poetry Our Lady of All Possibilities) by Dominique Fortier, Snow trails by Kev Lambert, The sneer by Eric Dupont, On the heights of Mount Thoreau by Catherine Mavrikakis, All the details by Carl Bessette, Small Town by Mélikah Abdelmoumen…

But three phenomena attracted attention, because it was impossible to miss: the successes of Rue Duplessis, my little darkness by Jean-Philippe Pleau,Garbage ! Diary of a drainer by Simon Paré-Poupart and In my blood de Rebecca Maconnen.

No one suspected last spring that Pleau would touch such a sensitive chord with his story of a class defector. I have the impression that this book risks having a fate similar to that of The woman who fled by Anaïs Barbeau-Lavalette, that is to say a duration in sales.

At the same publishing house, Lux, the diary of a drainer by Simon Paré-Poupart sits at the top of sales, which proves that in the land of Ti-Mé de Little Lifethe question of our relationships with objects and waste challenges us all. In the case of the book by Makonnen, also a presenter at ICI Première like Pleau, also in a story revealing her origins, one family secret contains another, then yet another, which surprised almost everyone the world who read it.

It was my bookseller who taught me that In my blood was one of its best sellers at the start of the holiday season. But I was there to buy Neither like my mother, nor like my father: chronicle of a fierce biracial woman by Magalie Lefebvre Jean, published by Hurlantes Éditrices. There were no more copies, perhaps because she is the first winner of the new Caroline Dawson prize, created in memory of the sociologist writer who died this year, and which aims to reward a writer or a French-speaking writer from diversity. That's what the new literary prizes are for: to shed light on books which sometimes fall into the blind spot of the major established prizes, where things are already jostling. I can't tell you if it's good or not, I haven't gotten my hands on it yet, but I plan to read this essay which looks at the challenges of being biracial, written by an author whose father is Haitian and the mother, from Quebec.

On the other hand, my bookseller had Toronto never blue by Marie-Hélène Larochelle, winner of the first Janette-Bertrand prize, the other new literary award this year, created in honor of the great lady who is enjoying great success with her latest book, One hundred years of love. The Janette-Bertrand Prize aims to celebrate works that promote a more just and egalitarian society. In this sense, Larochelle's novel, which recounts the destinies of itinerant women and prostitutes in the city of Toronto, sets the tone for this prize set to become essential in the coming years.

This novel is added to my pile of holiday readings where I'm catching up, but also where I'm having fun. I never have time to read detective novels, and I was saving the latest Andrée A. Michaud for the holidays, Swimmingwhich has the gift of plunging us into terrifying atmospheres. But I cheated, because as soon as I read the first pages, where it starts off with a bang, I was hooked and I couldn't put it down. It must be said that I have this strange habit of starting several books at the same time, and I have three left to finish during the Christmas break, in which I am already immersed with great interest: Glass people by Catherine Leroux, an astonishing (and relevant) dystopia on the housing crisis (less and less dystopian, in fact), The Sun King by Marie-Eve Cotton on the difficult theme of infanticide and Disaster scenariosthe most recent title from Alexie Morin, author of the highly celebrated Open your heartwhich tells how bad times are sometimes pivotal moments in our existence.

In short, 2024 is a year where we once again have this very beautiful luxury on the shelves: the embarrassment of choice.

Merry Christmas and happy reading!