Nathalie Guilbeault

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“I don't know why I started writing. I don't know why anybody does it. Maybe they're bored, or failures at something else.” ― Cormac McCarthy Okay, and so I thought - why do I write? And here are my thoughts on that ... Why I Write Fiction How do we use this space—this time, you and I, best? What do we have to say? Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? Like a train on a track in a needle—running. Time. Understanding. This place and love. We all have this and we all want this. For the longest time I couldn’t write directly about mental health. I still can’t, not really, not comfortably, and most certainly, not particularly well. Not as someone who suffers from it, but as someone who lived and loved next to it. And so I found fiction. Or more accurately, fiction found me. And that was enough, more than enough, because I didn’t really want it there all the time, either. It was like that train on a track—there it is again, running. Realism as writing, a retelling, is far too often a false witness. It’s filtered and constrained, our need for context and perspective far too great. Wanting. Needing. It’s not me. It’s you. And yet, with the passing of time, with hindsight and contextual perspective, the details drift. “Memory is a poet, not a historian.” Marie Howe. Fiction is truth. Or rather, as Albert Camus said, “Fiction is the lie through which we tell the truth.” Remembered realism? Little more than a dream. For how can we trust the mirror from which we retell our stories? Both can be powerful. Both can be painful. But what is honest? With nonfiction, we are trapped within our points of view, our objectivity never always being just that. Our retelling, always never more than what we know, or think we know—a weakness in the heart of everyone’s truth. With fiction, we sidestep these pitfalls of the rational mind, allowing for the insights of our intuitive thinking, our hands guided by the enlightenment of our trust. Freed from the captivity of the mighty “I,” we are capable of reaching far beyond that which can only be discovered through our constrained selves. A place where an unfiltered truth can come. It just might not be the truth we thought we knew, or wanted to know. I am a witness, and I am a participant, and yet, life is so much more than that too. It has to be. And it’s this separation I find difficult, the blurred lines of our lives and the unraveling of them. How do we objectively separate ourselves from this? From love? From pain? How do we write best about that which can’t be known? Fiction allows for this, it craves it, on its way to greater truths. Nonfiction rejects it. “The need of reason is not inspired by the quest for truth but by the quest for meaning. And truth and meaning are not the same thing. The basic fallacy, taking precedence over all specific metaphysical fallacies, is to interpret meaning on the model of truth.” Hannah Arendt. And so I write fiction, to try and escape the condensed thinking of the modern mind, the endless need for defining, for meaning, this understanding of “self.” Because I don’t need that—I reject it, surrendering to the idea it’s just not knowable, in any trustworthy manner. With fiction, I am able to try and seek, by removing myself as much as possible, an unbiased, unintentional truth, no matter what that truth might be. “I think life would be pretty boring if we understood everything. It's better if we don't understand anything . . . and know that we don't, that's the important part.” Noam Chomsky. And yet, we reach, to the hope of discoverable truths. In this case, through fiction. Not for me. For my children.

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COLD CHAOS, Stories from a North

Nathalie Guilbeault

COLD CHAOS, Stories from a North, is Nathalie Guilbeault’s first collection of short stories. Guilb...

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A third book, and it's my first collection of shorts. I hadn't planned on writing this book. The stories came to mind gradually as I was finishing WHEN I BECAME NEVER, providing me with a place to detach from the novel's dark themes. About Cold Chaos, this is what the Chicago Book Review had to say: "Nathalie Guilbeault’s Cold Chaos is a beautifully written collection of stories that explore memory, identity, and life in the North. With vivid and honest storytelling, Guilbeault brings readers into harsh and deeply moving landscapes. The mix of personal reflection and fiction makes each story feel real and immersive. Thoughtful and quietly powerful, Cold Chaos is a book that stays with you long after you finish reading." Please enjoy ... and thank you for reading it ... Nathalie

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added What I Know About the Human Race: A Collection of Writing to the bookshelf 3 months ago

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What I Know About the Human Race: A Collection of Writing

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What I enjoyed most about this collection was its capacity to surprise, keep you on your toes. Different themes - Fennell offers the reader a variety of texts that make us wonder and sometimes dream. About the the past, the now, and the future, too. The kind of short story collection I enjoy reading:) 5*

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https://www.amazon.ca/Vanished-Mary-McGarry-Morris/dp/0140272100

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left a comment on WHEN I BECAME NEVER5 months ago

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Thank you ...

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Thank for you review, Andrea :)

launched WHEN I BECAME NEVER6 months ago

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WHEN I BECAME NEVER

Nathalie Guilbeault

Nathalie Guilbeault’s WHEN I BECAME NEVER is a stand-alone thriller that complements the author's pr...

About me

Nathalie Guilbeault is the author of the novels INHALED and WHEN I BECAME NEVER. She is the French editor of the Nelligan Review, a bilingual literary journal. Her work has been published in various journals, anthologies and magazines. From Montreal, the author now lives in North Hatley, Quebec.

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