I Am A Truck by Michelle Winters

    You can always count on librarians to give you good recommendations. Enter: I Am a Truck by Michelle Winters, a finalist for the Giller Prize, which was handed to me at the Guelph book sale by the ever-trusty Wilma, who told me that I’d like it—and I did!

    I Am A Truck is a strange little book that has endearing characters, an unpredictable plot, and a tone that walks the line between tragic and hilarious. The novel focuses on a French Canadian couple in a rural town on the eve of their anniversary. Agathe and Réjean are happily married; Agathe makes Réjean cute little lunches, Réjean loves Chevy trucks and trades them in for the newest model at every opportunity, and the two have a thriving life in the bedroom. The only real flaw that seems to emerge is that Réjean loves his traditional French music and Agathe longs for the energy of rock n’ roll. Anyway, the two agree to make homemade gifts for their anniversaries and when Réjean lies about going on a fishing trip, Agatha accepts it as part of the process, that is, until Réjean’s truck is found with its door open at the side of the road—but Réjean is not.

    The novel’s structure adds to the intrigue of a missing husband by jumping between “Then” and “Now.” The novel moves forward and you’re invited to see Agathe’s sorrow in response to Réjean’s disappearance. The novel has some wonderfully tender moments in that respect. The “Then” sections start before the incident and works towards the ultimate reveal of Réjean’s disappearance. As the two hopscotch one another until reaching “Now On”---which couldn’t help but remind me of Samuel Beckett’s Nohow On, which actually has a similar motif of a woman mourning a lost husband.

    The novel is very short—about 150 pages—and yet it feels completely packed. There are so many memorable moments and so many surprising turns in the text that it feels more fully developed than some 400 pages novels I’ve read. Winters delivers the razor thin style I’ve really come to appreciate as the mark of effective novels, and her tone is a lovely balance of the sad and the grimly humorous. Part of that humour comes across through the untranslated French phrases embedded in the dialogue and some of the characters’ attitudes. Even further, there are some funny lines and descriptions; one character is consistently referred to as “the cheese idiot” and I kind of want that on my tombstone.

    When it comes to characters, I felt each had a richness and tenderness in them. Martin Bureau, the Chevy dealer that supplies Réjean his vehicles, emerges as a central character and he elicits a great deal of pathos, at least for a while. He’s a sweaty awkward man with no friends—that is, until he meets Réjean. Winters builds their relationship beautifully. It’s on the border of homoeroticism but is probably better viewed within the framework of Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick’s framework of homosociality. (Incidentally, after Réjean disappears, Agathe has a similar friendship emerge with one of her coworkers: Debbie). For reasons I won’t disclose here, Réjean asks Martin to find him a gun and it’s so pathetic and sweet that Martin goes through with it to impress his friend. When Martin is in consultation with the gun dealer, the two talk about Le Petit Prince and Martin identifies the part with the fox as his favourite part. There is no doubt in my mind that it’s the part that most resonates with Winters, as well, since the line “apprivoise-moi” is a perfect reflection of the connections in the book.

    I’ve already opted not to reveal one of the mysteries of the text and I’ll remain tight-lipped in that respect. This really is a book where the less you know going in, the more confident I am you’ll enjoy it. All I can say is that the reveal for the cause of Réjean’s disappearance is fantastic. The scene is beautifully constructed with layers of tension, diffused by humour, and at a moment of levity there’s something even more shocking that emerges. It was one of those moments that you start the next chapter and then think, “hey wait what, lemme go back!” and then you reread the last paragraph of the previous chapter. The new surprise then leads to a number of questions, each of which is provided with a clear and complete answer by the novel’s end.

    Despite the fact that I really enjoyed the book, there is one thing that is necessary as it is difficult to accept. The book demands that you accept coincidence and plot convenience in a number of ways. The characters all seem to connect to one another at just the right moment for the Shakespearean turns of fate to land. The implausibility is hard to swallow but you just kind of have to roll with it.

    I suppose the tradeoff for the implausibility is that you will never be able to predict the outcomes. (Jeeze it’s hard to be vague here!). The ending was not at all what I expected and not necessarily what I think was the most satisfying choice, but it was reasonably consistent with the ‘world’ of the novel.

    I really don’t know how else to talk about the book without delving into particular moments. Instead I’ll mention again how much I appreciated the character development in the book. Agathe is such a lovely woman at the start of the book, and as we jump into the past we see more layers to her experience. As the book progresses, I loved seeing her gaining her independence in the working world and being able to immerse herself in the world of rock n’ roll. Meanwhile, Martin’s longing for connection and the depths to which it drives him is heart-wrenching and tender. As he becomes increasingly pathetic throughout the book he descends into a downward spiral that is pretty creepy and sad. The layers to Réjean’s character are equally worth exploring. Winters is masterful at envisioning character motivations for characters and their accompanying secrets and then turning the screw to explore the consequences. One of my favourite moments is when Réjean confides in Martin, who tells him he needs a hobby. Réjean’s “hobby” is then engaging in revenge fantasies. It’s such a pathetic little hobby that suits his character perfectly; he could just as easily have -actually- taken up fishing, but nope. As outlandish as the characters sometimes are, they still felt real. Winters seems to capture the absurdity of human experience in an authentic way. I really enjoyed that.

    The plot, the characters, the tone, the themes: I Am A Truck is an intriguing book and a ton of fun. I really encourage you to check this one out—it even comes with a librarian’s endorsement by proxy.

    Happy reading!