Zoe Whittall’s debut novel Bottle Rocket Hearts
has sparked several stimulating conversations in our home. When discussing her nuanced treatment of the separatist debate, my husband recounted his understanding of the 1995 referendum over the question of Quebec separating from Canada as a sixteen-year-old from Lac St-Jean, the region of the province that had the highest percentage of “yes” votes. He blames both the limited information that was available to this remote region (the only television stations in the area were TVA and Radio-Canada, for instance) and the history classes given in high school that emphasized the oppression of French-Canadians for the overwhelming optimism that separation would restore the rightful balance-of-power. He had not heard the voices of those like the novel’s Rachel who cautions that giving power to the Bloc Quebecois may only shift the power to one oppressed group (French-Canadians) who would continue to oppress marginalized groups (First Nations, immigrants, homosexuals, feminists, etc). I appreciated the varied opinions related through the characters: from Seven’s comic concerns of a diminishing marijuana supply from British Columbia (which we later learn only mask his real reasons: his rights as a homosexual and his estrangement from his separatist father) to Eve’s father’s family arriving in free buses from Ontario to join pro-Canada rallies to Della’s adherence to her father’s separatist political position although her mother was/is English-Canadian to Eve’s aunt’s ironic disgust over her lover being a separatist and not because she is a woman. It is also telling that Eve’s own placement of the “x” on the ballot is never revealed, reminding readers that not all Quebeckers were polarized (as XXXX (Katherine) says “it’s really not an us-against-them thing, for most Quebeckers) (68). Portraying this and other historical events through the eyes of bilingual, bi-cultural and marginalized Montrealers provided a perspective that I would never have considered if not for this book.
has sparked several stimulating conversations in our home. When discussing her nuanced treatment of the separatist debate, my husband recounted his understanding of the 1995 referendum over the question of Quebec separating from Canada as a sixteen-year-old from Lac St-Jean, the region of the province that had the highest percentage of “yes” votes. He blames both the limited information that was available to this remote region (the only television stations in the area were TVA and Radio-Canada, for instance) and the history classes given in high school that emphasized the oppression of French-Canadians for the overwhelming optimism that separation would restore the rightful balance-of-power. He had not heard the voices of those like the novel’s Rachel who cautions that giving power to the Bloc Quebecois may only shift the power to one oppressed group (French-Canadians) who would continue to oppress marginalized groups (First Nations, immigrants, homosexuals, feminists, etc). I appreciated the varied opinions related through the characters: from Seven’s comic concerns of a diminishing marijuana supply from British Columbia (which we later learn only mask his real reasons: his rights as a homosexual and his estrangement from his separatist father) to Eve’s father’s family arriving in free buses from Ontario to join pro-Canada rallies to Della’s adherence to her father’s separatist political position although her mother was/is English-Canadian to Eve’s aunt’s ironic disgust over her lover being a separatist and not because she is a woman. It is also telling that Eve’s own placement of the “x” on the ballot is never revealed, reminding readers that not all Quebeckers were polarized (as XXXX (Katherine) says “it’s really not an us-against-them thing, for most Quebeckers) (68). Portraying this and other historical events through the eyes of bilingual, bi-cultural and marginalized Montrealers provided a perspective that I would never have considered if not for this book. One such event is the characters’ reaction to the then-Quebec premier Parizeau’s comment that the separatists had lost their battle for independence because of the ethnic vote. Although they are not immigrants, Rachel and Eve respond with indignation. In fact, Eve calls him a “racist prick” (76). Della however tries to understand the reason behind his remark. She reasons that he is crushed by the weight of failure. My husband agrees with her. In our conversation he explained that before the referendum the Bloc Quebecois claimed that the federal government was sending immigrants and refugees to Montreal because they were likely to vote “no” out of loyalty to the government that had allowed them to come to Canada. He argues that Parizeau was criticizing this battle tactic of the federal government and not the immigrants themselves. Through Della’s perspective and then the ensuing conversation with my husband, I realized that there are other interpretations of this remark that I had always assumed was a cut-and-dry racist comment. Whittall explores these opinions and positions with insight and skill that makes for an enlightening reading experience without becoming a textbook for Quebec’s political history. Unlike Hugh MacLennan’s use of type-characters of Two Solitudes
, she is able to breathe life into the debate with her complex, realistic characters. Through the perspective of the gay community, the voices of the marginalized are heard, not just those of the dominant English-French polemic.
, she is able to breathe life into the debate with her complex, realistic characters. Through the perspective of the gay community, the voices of the marginalized are heard, not just those of the dominant English-French polemic. As in “real life,” the reactions to homosexuality in the novel are varied and nuanced, and also as in “real life,” the differences in opinion are often generational. Both Seven’s and Rachel’s parents have cut ties to their children because of their sexual orientation. Rachel’s parents blame her choice to engage in such a “lonely lifestyle” for her death and not the homophobic skinheads who murdered her (129). Perhaps the most open acknowledgment of the gay lifestyle among the parents of the characters comes from Eve’s parents who continue to develop their relationship with their daughter. Yet even they “tolerate” homosexuals and do not “accept” them as Eve desires. The society as a whole is also shown to be intolerant. Not only by Rachel’s murder, but also through Della and Seven’s recounting of the police crack-down of a warehouse party, the reader, as well as Eve, learns of the violence committed against the community. The Sex Garage raid and the ensuing police violence towards those protesting the incident also underscores the mainline position of intolerance towards gays. Whittall succeeds in providing context to the oppression of Montreal homosexuals during the 1990s.
In fact, one of the aspects that I most enjoyed about this novel was its place in 90s culture. It is quite rare to read a book that is set in the era when I was in high school. The cultural references, well-known people and events, and concerns of the era were much more meaningful to me than books set in any other time period. Since the 90s were a period of relative stability and economic prosperity in the United States, where I grew up, I was reminded that it was not the case for Quebec. In fact it was a turbulent decade for the province. The decade began just after the Polytechnique massacre, uniting many women (including Eve) to the feminist movement. Not long afterwards, the Oka crisis revealed the prejudices of the Quebec and Canadian governments towards First Nation peoples. The Hells Angels were active in Montreal during this period, as revealed in Eve and Della’s experience of one of their bombs exploding nearby buildings. AIDS became a major concern as indicated by Seven’s involvement in the AIDS Community Care, his own status as HIV+, and his album of obituaries of those of his friends who had succumbed to the illness. On a less serious note I liked being reminded of my own experiences, such as watching O.J. Simpson’s white bronco on its slow get-away or listening to Alanis Morrisette’s album “Jagged Little Pill” on my portable CD player on my bus rides home from school. Although I would never have chosen this book out of the thousands in a bookstore, I am glad that I was assigned it for a class. Otherwise I would have missed out on one of the most enjoyable, interesting, readable, conversation-starting, and thought-provoking books I’ve ever read.
And check out the video the publishers made to promote the book for Canada Reads (it made it into the Top 10!)
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