In Every Wave

By Charles Quimper

A man loses his daughter while swimming one summer. This little gem of a novella–sad and beautiful and spellbinding all at once–is the tale of how he strives to be reunited with her again, whether back home on dry land or thousands of miles underwater. Racked with guilt and doubt, he lingers over her memory, refusing to let her go. He imagines and reimagines the moment she slipped away from him as he searches for her behind every rock, in every bush, in every wave.

Author: Born in Quebec City in 1977, Charles Quimper is a former bookseller and has contributed to a number of magazines. Les Libraires magazine recognized the “tenderness, infinite sadness, and absolute beauty” of his debut novel, while Le Devoir hailed “a new literary voice of remarkable density.”

Reviews

“If I had a book of the year, this is it.” (Stuart John Allen, Winstonsdad’s Blog)

“Piercing and compact, Charles Quimper’s novella In Every Wave follows a grief-consumed father through a vortex of regret and fragmented fantasies. Here, sorrow is an ocean, and lost possibilities lurk behind every swell […] Every phrase is a foghorn, and every utterance rasps. Almost too tender to touch…” (★★★★★, Foreword Reviews)

“one of the most touching books I have ever read […] a real gem” (Stuart John Allen, Winstonsdad’s Blog)

“a picture of tenderness and a true-to-life image of the gaping hole left in the heart by loss” (World Literature Today)

“In Every Wave is beautiful, poetic, and profound” (Naomi MacKinnon, Consumed By Ink)

“Akin to an epic poem […] an extremely powerful soliloquy that addresses every parent’s fear, losing a child, in a poetic and powerful manner. […] I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see this debut work appear on the Best Translated Book Awards longlist and will be eagerly awaiting Charles Quimper’s later writings.” (Tony Messenger, Messenger’s Booker (and more) Blog)

• Language: English
• Publisher: QC Fiction
• Release date: Oct 29, 2018
• ISBN: 9781771861564

Charles Quimper

Born in Quebec City in 1977, Charles Quimper is a former bookseller and has contributed to a number of magazines. Les Libraires magazine recognized the “tenderness, infinite sadness, and absolute beauty” of his debut novel, while Le Devoir hailed “a new literary voice of remarkable density.”

Book preview

Charles Quimper

IN EVERY WAVE

Translated from the French by

Guil Lefebvre

QC fiction

Revision: Katherine Hastings, Peter McCambridge

Proofreading: David Warriner, Riteba McCallum

Book design: Folio infographie

Cover & logo: Maison 1608 by Solisco

Fiction editor: Peter McCambridge

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers.

Copyright © 2017 by Éditions Alto

Originally published under the title Marée montante

Translation copyright © Guil Lefebvre

ISBN 978-1-77186-155-7 pbk; 978-1-77186-156-4 epub;

978-1-77186-157-1 pdf; 978-1-77186-158-8 mobi/pocket

Artwork by Nadia Saad. From an original series of ink drawings inspired by this novel.

Legal Deposit, 4th quarter 2018

Bibliothèque et Archives nationales du Québec

Library and Archives Canada

Published by QC Fiction

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QC Fiction is an imprint of Baraka Books.

Printed and bound in Québec

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We acknowledge the financial support of the Société de développement des entreprises culturelles (SODEC), the Government of Québec tax credit for book publishing administered by SODEC, the Government of Canada, and the Canada Council for the Arts.

IT WAS JUNE when I set sail on my boat’s maiden voyage. I carried the bare essentials. A few pounds of supplies, your little pink box, a battleships game, and the endless echo of our days together.

The pink box held your collection of moonstones.

She may not look like much, but my new boat is the best friend I’ve ever had. We sail the world together looking for clues, signs, traces of you.

I cling to your name like a man desperate and dispossessed, probing the sound as it emerges from my mouth into silent starless nights. I ponder it from every angle, whisper it, recite it like a poem or prayer. I hiss it like a threat.

However intoned or inflected, your name remains unchanged, always ending on the same note that lingers in the dark, like the inkling of a ghost.

Beatrice. Your mother and I chose to name you Beatrice.

My voice has changed and it keeps catching me off guard. It isn’t mine anymore. It isn’t even a voice anymore. More like the rasping, creaking sound of a raven or locust. Or maybe an out- of-tune banjo. I can’t decide which.

Another notch in the mast with my pocketknife. One more day without you. Water covers everything, and its ebb and flow set each day’s rhythm, sometimes