Crever mon fils

Crever mon fils


ISBN : 2-89419-040-9 | 156 pages | $16.95 | | Herbes rouges

In French only. On sale at your bookseller or at

Rue des libraires

Clarisse is preg­nant, but this sec­ond child is not want­ed. She no longer loves Simon, who is try­ing to cling to the reas­sur­ing image of the het­ero­sex­u­al cou­ple, impos­si­ble for them.

The preg­nan­cy will be ter­ri­ble and intox­i­cat­ing, both for Clarisse, who falls in love with anoth­er man, and for Simon, who dares not say anything.

Behind Claris­se’s con­tempt for her hus­band, her preg­nan­cy and her sex­u­al inter­course with her neigh­bour, there is a strange desire : the deter­mi­na­tion to erase this cursed son in her – for she knows that he will look like Simon. Her delu­sions of mur­der will rub shoul­ders with her new­found plea­sures ; her painful past, her suf­fo­cat­ing life and her dark future will push her to want free­dom with­out com­pro­mise and to cling to it with the vio­lence of hope.

Seen from this angle, it looks like a frozen lake at the time of the ice jam. Nasty ice is piling up near Clarisse's hair. There is no wind; the river is deaf. There is only the smell of the banks to whip the nostrils. Clarisse tries to get up but the pain keeps her on the ground. She gives up. By keeping her eyes open, she can imagine a lot of things; by closing them, the images inherit smells and dizziness. She keeps crying.


I love you, me neither

I love you, me nei­ther… All the ambi­gu­i­ty of dif­fi­cult love rela­tion­ships is found in Guy Verville’s sec­ond nov­el, Crev­er mon fils, a harsh and vio­lent book that does not spare any pain or plea­sure. Clarisse and Simon are an unusu­al cou­ple despite reas­sur­ing appear­ances : they had their first child, and Clarisse is preg­nant again. But Simon prefers men and hard­ly approach­es his wife who is deeply repulsed by the idea of her sec­ond preg­nan­cy. Deeply over­whelmed by this con­cep­tion that her mind can­not accept while her body nat­u­ral­ly wel­comes her, Clarisse nour­ish­es desires of mur­der towards the embryo occu­pied to devel­op in her. Guy Verville presents, with a cer­tain audac­i­ty for a male writer whose work is still short, the point of view of the woman, with so much inte­ri­or­i­ty that the read­er accepts, because they come from a true char­ac­ter, the hatred and dis­gust shown by Clarisse.

A writ­ing that seems to imi­tate the very jolts of this tur­bu­lent life adds to the ten­sion of a painful, pathet­ic nov­el, yet with­out free effects. Pub­lished in Que­bec, this nov­el by Guy Verville is well worth cross­ing the Atlantic to come to us. He scratch­es appear­ances to find, under­neath, the truth – always good to say, even and espe­cial­ly if it hurts.

Pierre Maury, Le Soir, Bruxelles (1995/02/15)

Dry as a whistle

Guy Verville deliv­ers a nov­el as dry as a whis­tle, with­out com­pro­mise, writ­ten in a lan­guage with­out arti­fices, which some­times reserves beau­ti­ful flash­es of light­ning. Espe­cial­ly when he leaves behind a some­what clum­sy poet­ry, undoubt­ed­ly added to soft­en a world of tears. is weight­ed with a dark rich­ness where the dai­ly tragedy is expressed as rarely in Que­bec literature.

Isabelle Richer, Le Devoir, Montréal (1995/02/15)