La Mauvaise mère by Marguerite Andersen

By Marguerite Andersen

Marguerite Andersen a huit ans quand Hitler prend le pouvoir, quinze quand los angeles Seconde Guerre mondiale éclate, vingt au lendemain de l’armistice. Yeux baissés devant l’horreur, toute à sa soif de vivre, elle tourne fin 1946 le dos à cette Allemagne. Enceinte, elle go well with en Tunisie l’amant français qui deviendra son leading mari.

Ainsi s’amorce un parcours qui l’amènera, au fil de ses amours et de ses aventures, sur trois continents. Elle s’installe définitivement au Canada en 1958.

À l. a. suite de Jean-Jacques Rousseau, ces confessions au féminin : l’auteure/la narratrice, en retraçant les moments importants de sa vie, spécialement ceux en rapport avec ses enfants, en lien avec son rôle de mère, questionne ses choix, fait l’aveu de ses erreurs. Moments choisis, fragments, présentés de façon chronologique et nourris par des réflexions actuelles sur ces souvenirs. l. a. prose se fait parfois hachurée - angoissée ? - mettant à revenue le blanc - pause, silence - parce que l’émotion, à travers le memento, le commande.

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I put it in my mouth and was stunned by the sharp sweetness. " I said. "Chew on it, but don't swallow it," the nurse said with a laugh. She smiled real big and brought in other nurses so they could watch me chew my first-ever piece of gum. When she brought me lunch, she told me I had to take out my chewing gum, but she said not to worry because I could have a new stick after eating. If I finished the pack, she would buy me another. That was the thing about the hospital. You never had to worry about running out of stuff like food or ice or even chewing gum.

Mom's gestures were all familiar—the way she tilted her head and thrust out her lower lip when studying items of potential value that she'd hoisted out of the Dumpster, the way her eyes widened with childish glee when she found something she liked. Her long hair was streaked with gray, tangled and matted, and her eyes had sunk deep into their sockets, but still she reminded me of the mom she'd been when I was a kid, swan-diving off cliffs and painting in the desert and reading Shakespeare aloud.

Dad raised his eyebrows. " he asked. " "You must have seen it. " he asked. "Yes! Yes! " "Better believe I have. " Dad said he had been chasing Demon for years. By now, Dad said, that old Demon had figured out that it had better not mess with Rex Walls. But if that sneaky son of a gun thought it was going to terrorize Rex Walls's little girl, it had by God got another think coming. "Go fetch my hunting knife," Dad said. I got Dad his knife with the carved bone handle and the blade of blue German steel, and he gave me a pipe wrench, and we went looking for Demon.

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