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Don't sweat the sweater >> Will Roch Carrier relive his childhood trauma? by JULIET WATERS
"Of course I'd like to be that famous for all my works--and it will happen... later," Carrier says with an obvious gleam of mock arrogance in his startling, oversized eyes, which seem to shine with an impenetrable shield of innocence. "But the 'Hockey Sweater,' it's a gift," he says (referring to the success of the story, not the actual sweater). "This story is being read by kids, grandparents, male, female... girls are now playing hockey. That's a gift and I could not do that a second time." True enough, few people graduate from the Canadian school system without having read Carrier's traumatic autobiographical tale of being forced by his ignorant mother into wearing a Maple Leafs sweater to play hockey with his contemptuous Hab-obsessed peers. And, given the recent trend in pop psychology that credits peers with more influence over social development than parents, it'll probably be read even more. But Carrier himself might be a good case study for--or maybe against--this theory. Although Carrier outgrew schoolyard hockey politics, became a productive writer and the head of the Military College in St-Jean, he's still no fashion plate. Only two accessories brighten up a nondescript outfit. The first is a white and gold maple leaf lapel-pin. Given that he'll be wearing this item into the traditionally separatist riding of St-Jean when he runs for Charest's Liberals in the next provincial election, one might suspect that he's still subconsciously programmed to relive his childhood rejection. But Carrier insists that a political career is "an old dream. Something I've had since I was an adolescent. But I never pursued it, because the time wasn't right." The second accessory is an expensive pair of cowboy boots that one might mistakenly assume he picked up while researching his latest novel. The Lament of Charlie Longsong takes place mostly in the southwestern United States and tells the tale of an old Indian in Arizona who can't forget the French Canadian poetess he met in Paris during the war. In fact, Carrier was given the boots as a going-away present when he left after a brief stint as head of the Canada Council. "They called me 'the Cowboy' because I went in there with the intention to shake things up," claims Carrier gleefully. "And I did." So much so that it wouldn't be surprising if there were a few people who still secretly call him 'the Scalper' after his controversial slicing of major programs, notably the Art Bank and the Explorations Grants. Carrier, however, insists that these were fake shots meant to score a more important goal. By creating public controversy, he claims, he forced the government to appease the artistic community with more money, thus increasing the budget of the Canada Council by $25 million more than it was before he took over. Whether diversionary ambushes will be his favourite tactic as an MNA remains to be seen. "I have one or two ideas," says Carrier coyly, "but I don't plan to reveal them right now." In the meantime, Charlie Longsong is the last book Carrier intends to write for a while, claiming that he will give up writing entirely "when" (not if) he's elected. The Lament of Charlie Longsong by Roch Carrier, translated by Sheila Fischman, Viking, hc, 260 pp, $29.99
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I have the feeling that in his long career as a writer, Roch Carrier must have listened to a lot of interviewers' anecdotes about humiliating clothes they were forced to wear as a child. But I don't get the feeling that Carrier, now in his early 60s and best known for his short story "The Hockey Sweater," has ever gotten tired of commiserating with them. Nor do I get the feeling that Carrier, whose award-winning adult novels have received high praise and lofty comparisons to Gabriel Garcia Marquez, is at all sour that he is virtually unknown for anything other than "The Hockey Sweater."