An Acadian literary scandal

There’s something wrong with this picture, and it enrages me.

The Prix France-Acadie, a literary prize whose jury is chaired by Alain Dubos, will not be awarded this year, because apparently not a single book was good enough to deserve it. (See the articles on this topic on Radio-Canada’s website and in l’Acadie Nouvelle.)

There are entire publishing houses that don’t submit any books for consideration because their authors are under the impression that the jury is only interested in books that speak about Acadie in a normative register of French. Others submitted books and the prize published the names of these authors then publicly announce that a committee on another continent had decided that these books were so lacking in whatever the criteria may be, that no prize will be awarded to any of them. This is utterly humiliating. The official press release is posted in the comments below and is truly embarrassing in both content and tone. It’s everyone’s fault but theirs, apparently.

One of the biggest problems in Acadian culture today is the fraught relationship with the French language. People already have trouble reading, a situation that is well documented by our literacy networks and school boards, so imagine what the act of writing a book means. Given the context, it’s punk as fuck. And we can agree that authors from here don’t write for the sake of prestige and even less to make money.

People write because they have to. Because books outlive us. Because the medium allows an author to create their own world. Because reading is important, and it is important to read what our own people have written. Because our lives can be books, too. Because books can sound like we do. Because we are capable of writing books. Because we are capable of reading them. Because reading about ourselves is necessary for the survival and evolution of a culture. Because we have things that we absolutely must say. Reading and writing are essential, for Christ’s sake!

So I lose all patience when I read on Radio-Canada that Donald Boudreau, author of the book La guerre à Emery à Edmond, has this to say about his experience with one of the few Acadian literary prizes: “I doubt I’ll try again. Certainly not after the comments I received on my book, I wouldn’t try again with that one.”

Super. Someone who likes books enough to want to write one, and in French too, which means that he already succeeded in overcoming any linguistic insecurity he had about allowing his work to be read by the public. He submits his book to an international prize for Acadians with a French jury composed of members who are, according to Benoit Doyon-Gosselin, disconnected from present-day Acadia, from the subjects and styles that Acadians use to express themselves. This jury in France then announces the names of the authors under consideration. It’s pretty cool for an author to have their book talked about on another continent. Validating, even. But no, it was only to say that all these people are not good enough for France to deign to award them a prize. So bad, in fact, that no prize will be given out at all. And, while it is unclear whether it was this jury or someone else who criticized his book, Donald Boudreau no longer feels he can submit it, and may not feel like submitting any of his works in the future. They made him doubt his own writing. I don’t know him personally, but this sort of situation can easily summon the monster of linguistic insecurity.

It’s 2023. We know what this monster does to people.

I am outraged and disgusted by the situation. It casts shame upon my fellow authors and is absolutely unacceptable in the context of the symbolic relationship between France and Acadie.

The submissions process (sending printed books across the ocean, an expensive and slow logistical clusterfuck, only to have to send them again and again, even though PDFs exist because it’s 2023) is coordinated with the help of the Société Nationale de l’Acadie (SNA), whose mandate is to be the spokesperson of the Acadian people. In this case, they are literally carrying our words to the other side of the Atlantic so that the French can trample them by announcing they are not good enough. I refuse to accept that. There is something unhealthy in all this, and it’s going to have to change. They say they will award the prize next year, but there is nothing to indicate that the conditions that led to this scandal will have sufficiently changed for us to trust that it will be a good thing for our authors to send more books. Nothing guarantees that we’ll be worthy of the prize next time. And I doubt this scandal will inspire more submissions in the future.

I implore the SNA, its president Martin Théberge, its executive director Véronique Mallet, and its manager of international promotion of Acadian artists Yannick Mainville, to make some radical decisions so that their overseas partners contribute to the standing of Acadian artists, rather than crushing their self-confidence. This is a shameful situation, and our taxes pay for the time the SNA spent on this work. Do something. Enough is enough.

I am tagging other stakeholders from the literary and artistic scene in the comments section, and this post is public on Facebook so that you can share and tag as well.

And, to the authors affected by this situation, I am truly sorry for what you have experienced. Don’t let this prize tell you whether your work is good or not. You have written books. You have already succeeded.

Céleste Godin is an Acadian poet and playwright originally from Nova Scotia who now lives in Moncton. Their play, Overlap, was published by Prise de Parole in 2020. This text was published by Godin on their social media on November 22, 2023. Jeff Bate Boerop, a Moncton-based translator and longtime friend of the NB Media Co-op, translated the original text in French to English.