Volkswagen Blues
Originally published as Volkswagen Blues by éditions Québec/Amérique
Copyright © 1984 Jacques Poulin
First ePub edition © Cormorant Books Inc. May, 2011
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The publisher gratefully acknowledges the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for its publishing program. We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund (CBF) for our publishing activities, and the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Media Development Corporation, an agency of the Ontario Ministry of Culture, and the Ontario Book Publishing Tax Credit Program.
National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Poulin, Jacques, 1937-
Volkswagen blues.
ISBN 978-1-77086-068-1
I. Fischman, Sheila II. Title.
PS8531.O82V6413 2002 c843’.54 c2002-900033-5
PQ3919.2.P59V6413 2002
Every reasonable attempt has been made to attribute copyright material used in this publication. Information regarding inadvertent errors or omissions of copyright information would be welcomed, and efforts will be made to correct same in future editions.
English translation of an excerpt from “Le Bateau espagnol,” by Leo Ferre, by Donald Winkler.
Cover design: Angel Guerra, Archetype
Cover image: Bildhuset AB/Photonica
based on a text design by Tannice Goddard, Soul Oasis Networking
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This translation is dedicated
to the memory of John Goodwin
“We are no longer the heroes of history.”
— EMMET GROGAN, RINGOLEVIO
I
Jacques Cartier
He was wakened by the meowing of a cat.
He sat up in his sleeping bag and drew aside the curtain that covered the back window of the Volkswagen minibus: he saw a tall thin girl in a white nightgown walking barefoot in the grass despite the cold; a black kitten was running behind her.
He tapped on the window, not too hard, and the kitten stopped dead, one paw in the air, then started running again. The girl’s hair was as black as coal and plaited into a long braid that hung to the middle of her back.
The man craned his neck and saw that she was heading for the section of the campground that was reserved for tents. He got out of his sleeping bag, pulled on his jeans and a heavy woollen sweater because he was sensitive to the cold, then he opened all the curtains in the old Volks. The sun was rising, and there were patches of fog over the Baie de Gaspé.
He went to the restroom to wash and shave. When he came back there was no one in the tent area; the girl had disappeared. He opened the sliding door of the van and carried his portable gas stove, his tank of propane and his plastic dishes to the picnic table. He prepared orange juice, cornflakes and toast, and boiled enough water for coffee and the dishes. When he’d got to the coffee he rose abruptly from the table and went to get his brother Théo’s old postcard from the glove compartment. He propped the card against the marmalade jar and slowly sipped his coffee.