EMBRACING MONTREAL
Author has love affair with city
We’ve caught Kim Thúy on a good day. But then, if you’ve spent any time around her, you get the feeling all the days are good.
An interview in print with the Governor General’s Award-winning Montreal novelist can’t quite convey the essence of a conversation with her: she is ebullience personified, frequently breaking into infectious laughter, making new friends seemingly instantly. On this particular day, she has freshly received the news that she is one of four writers shortlisted for the New Prize in Literature, the Swedish “alternative Nobel” initiative for a year when the standard prize is on hiatus because of scandal. But she seems just as happy to talk about her relationship with the city that she has called home at various times since arriving from Vietnam in the late 1970s, and continuously for the past 14 years.
“The beauty of Montreal is that it’s on a human scale,” the 49-yearold said. “Unlike New York or Paris — beautiful cities that you can never really completely grasp — you feel like you can embrace Montreal totally, even though it’s actually quite big and cosmopolitan. It’s doable.”
That welcoming aspect is something Thúy said she felt immediately as a newcomer; for her there was no warming-up period.
“There’s a kindness and tenderness toward inhabitants and visitors. Buildings, houses, streets, parks — it’s hard to say exactly how, but they are all built and planned in a way that makes you feel at home as soon as you enter. It’s like being in New York, but a New York that’s all Greenwich Village. A way I describe the difference to people who ask is that New York is a flamboyant star — it’s Marilyn Monroe — where Montreal is more like a schoolgirl in a summer dress on a bicycle.”
Meeting Thúy outside Radio Canada, where she had just done an interview, it was quickly apparent we were in a part of town important to her: from her home in Longueuil, it’s 10 minutes by car across Jacques Cartier Bridge (“It’s like being right next door to the city; you see the skyline”) and some of her personal landmarks are here. On Visitation St., discovered randomly one day by Thúy on a neighbourhood stroll, is the imposing Church of Saint-PierreApôtre. Despite professing not to be religious, she quickly formed a lasting bond with the place, appreciative of its role as a welcoming haven in Hochelaga-Maisonneuve, its inclusive philosophy appropriate to its location on the edge of the Gay Village.
Five minutes immediately east lies La Mer, the indoor market where seafood enthusiast Thúy is greeted like family.
“It’s all about people,” she said. “La Mer — sure, I could probably buy fish as fresh at a different address, but what makes the fish taste so good is the story behind it, the person who introduces it to you. Learning about fish from people who come from South America, from Lebanon, from all over the world — it changes what you buy and how you buy it and how you prepare it.”
A café denizen as so many writers are, Thúy has found one of her favourites, N Latte, right around the corner from her house in Vieux Longueuil.
“I’m so happy that we have this kind of venue,” she said. “I go there to support them, because it has a charm, and also because I enjoy their coffee. No matter how hard I try, the latte I make at home is never as good as theirs.”
Another favoured coffee destination is Espace Pépin Maison on St-Paul St. in Old Montreal.
“It has a café in a little alley next to the store, like a souk. It’s just so lovely, it’s perfect. I could spend whole days there. It reminds me that it’s a balance between so many elements that makes a place successful. But it’s very delicate. There was a café I loved — I won’t name it now — and I walked in one day and sensed a change. I learned afterward that it had changed owners, and that changed the whole atmosphere. I never went back.”
Also quite close to home is one of Thúy ’s favourite restaurants, Dur à Cuire on St-Jean St. in Longueuil.
“It’s an excellent venue for food, for atmosphere, and for kindness,” she said of the French-cuisine establishment. “When I go there with my autistic son and he can’t eat what’s on the menu, I’ll explain that to the chef, and before long he’ll bring out the best dish ever, something we can all eat. The team is young, creative, inventive. It’s an open kitchen, you see them put all their heart into your meal. They have mastered the art of cooking. I’m so happy they’re only a sevenminute walk away.”
All this talk of eating and drinking is a reminder that after she was a lawyer and before she was a writer, Thúy was a restaurateur.
“Yes, but I have to say the only thing about (running a restaurant) that I miss is meeting my customers, sharing stories and emotions,” she said. “I don’t miss doing the dishes! I’m too old for all that now, anyway. It’s very demanding physically. It’s a marathon at the speed of a sprint.”
Librairie Alire, an independent bookseller in Longueuil, scratches Thúy’s bibliophile itch.
“It’s less than 10 minutes’ walk from my house, and the staff are so great,” she said. “At one point I had just stepped inside and one of them said, ‘I know what you need,’ and gave me a book by Alain de Botton, Architecture and Beauty. And it was exactly what I needed! It was like he was a psychic.”
Thúy ’s aforementioned 16-yearold son, one of her two children, presumably has had a defining impact on how she interacts with the city.
“Absolutely,” she said. “It means (experiencing the city) not only as a parent, but as the mother of an autistic child. I’m always thinking of what he likes and doesn’t like, what scares him and what’s difficult for him. We’re always looking for things we can do with him. For example, he loves Old Montreal because of the horses. So we go there often and we go by boat. Without him we would probably never have taken that ferry from Longueuil and then biked around.”
Another thing she might never have done without her son, Thúy said, is visit Portus 360, the revolving restaurant atop the former Delta Centre-Ville building on Robert-Bourassa Blvd.
“Because he’s autistic, he knew immediately that (the room) was moving, even though it’s so slow that a lot of people barely notice at first. I think he likes it there so much because being able to see the whole city helps him to organize himself in space, something that autistic people have difficulty with.”
As for the New Prize — she’s up against fellow finalists Maryse Condé, Neil Gaiman and Haruki Murakami, with the winner to be announced on Oct. 12 — Thúy is self-deprecating to a fault regarding her chances.
“I can’t possibly win; it would ruin their credibility,” she said with a laugh.
Nevertheless, she’s enjoying the added attention. At least she appears to be. Joyful is her default mode, so it’s a bit hard to tell.
New York is a flamboyant star — it’s Marilyn Monroe — where Montreal is more like a schoolgirl in a summer dress on a bicycle.
KIM THÚY