![\"\"](\"https:\/\/crc.umontreal.ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/12\/folch-ribas-300x164.jpg\")
<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Biblioth\u00e8que et Archives nationales du Qu\u00e9bec (BAnQ), not the Canadian Centre for Architecture (CCA), holds the archives of Quebec architect Jacques Folch-Ribas. And with good reason: Folch-Ribas was not only a collaborator of Le Corbusier, but also a prot\u00e9g\u00e9 of Albert Camus and a prolific writer. Born in Barcelona in 1928, he spent part of his youth in France, arriving in Quebec for love in 1956. He is the author of thirteen novels, several of which have won literary prizes: Une aurore bor\u00e9ale<\/em> won the Prix France-Qu\u00e9bec in 1974, Le Valet de plume <\/em>won the Molson Prize of the Acad\u00e9mie canadienne-fran\u00e7aise in 1983, and Le silence ou Le parfait bonheur<\/em> won the Governor General’s Award in 1989. Finally, he received the Prix Duvernay in 1990 for his body of work. Goncourt-nominated Jacques Folch-Ribas is also the author of La chair de pierre<\/em> (published in 1989), a novel tinged by his own training as an architect, and a Quebec analog to Fernand Pouillon’s classic Les pierres sauvages <\/em>(1964).<\/p>\n What can we learn about the architect’s relationship with literature from his archives? <\/strong>This scientific paper proposes a reflection on Folch-Ribas’ status as a writer and his recognition by various players in the publishing and literary worlds, inspired by the documents left by the architect in Quebec. It questions the criteria by which an author from the world of construction is transformed from a writer to a writer. The Jacques Folch-Ribas fonds, on view at BAnQ Vieux-Montr\u00e9al, consists mainly of texts and radio recordings produced between 1963 and 2014 (1). Detailed plans and successive sketches for published and unpublished works, research and working notes, press clippings, extensive correspondence with leading figures from the literary world of Quebec and France (Herv\u00e9 Bazin, Robert Laffont, Marguerite Yourcenar, Mich\u00e8le Lalonde, Victor-L\u00e9vy Beaulieu, to name but a few): these are all handwritten traces left by the architect that can indicate the extent to which his writing is colored (or not) by his training as a designer.<\/p>\n In his Essais critiques<\/em>, Roland Barthes draws a fundamental distinction between the figure of the “\u00e9crivain” and that of the “\u00e9crivant”. What first and foremost separates these two individuals is the place writing occupies in their lives. Where the “\u00e9crivain” performs a function, the “\u00e9crivant” performs an activity: “this is what grammar already teaches us, contrasting the noun of the one with the (transitive) verb of the other” (2). Where the \u00e9crivain’s word is neither an instrument nor a vehicle, for literature is its own end, the \u00e9crivant’s word is rather the support of a doing, an instrument for communicating thought. Where the \u00e9crivain’s written word involves both technical norms (of composition, genre, writing) and artisanal norms (of toil, patience, correction, perfection), the care the \u00e9crivant takes with his writing, and even his style, is secondary. Finally, where the \u00e9crivain’s word is the sole object of an institution made for it alone (literature), a commodity delivered according to circuits established centuries ago, the \u00e9crivant’s word can only be produced and consumed on the margins of institutions whose primary aim is not to enhance the value of language.<\/p>\n While most architects are “\u00e9crivants”, the documents in the Jacques Folch-Ribas archive confirm that he is a special case of a seasoned “\u00e9crivain”. A perusal of Folch-Ribas’ correspondence and press articles clearly shows that the architect’s written work is supported by a series of mediations. His novels are surrounded by “circles of recognition”, in the words of sociologist Nathalie Heinich, each of these circles being “more and more populated at the same time as becoming later and less competent” (3). The written work of Jacques Folch-Ribas is recognized by publishing professionals (well-established houses and organizers of prestigious literary prizes), by his peers (some of the most renowned writers of the twentieth century), by critics (authors of specialized literary columns and journalists writing articles for a wide audience), but also by politicians, academics and even some architects.<\/p>\n Although Folch-Ribas uses a letterhead in his correspondence that announces him as an “architect” and “urban planner”, the letters he exchanges with his Paris publishing house leave no room for doubt: he belongs to the literary world. His first circle of recognition was that of publishing professionals. On September 10, 1985, translator Hortense Chabrier wrote to him: “You belong to the small number of those who have a real writer’s fiber” (4). A few months later, Robert Laffont himself confirms, with the mischievous phrase “Dear Mr. Writer” (5), and in the rest of his letter: “I knew all your literary qualities, but I didn’t know that you also had the stature of a great adventure novelist \u00e0 la Ludlum or Martin Cruz Smith” (5). He insists: “It’s a beautiful, strong and original story, and written and composed by the writer that you are”, “A real writer’s text!” (5). The same was true when he commented on the manuscript of La chair de pierre<\/em> in 1989: “It’s a book as solid as its builder, dense and uncompromising. A very good book for you! The style is highly constructed, even elliptical at times” (6).<\/p>\n The second circle of recognition for Jacques Folch-Ribas’ written work is that of other writers. While Marguerite Yourcenar described the architect as a “novelist” (7), Jean Cayrol saw him as a writer in his own right: “You speak as you are, happy writer!” (8). As early as 1975, when he was President of the Acad\u00e9mie Goncourt, Herv\u00e9 Bazin held Folch-Ribas, nominee for one of France’s most prestigious literary prizes, in the highest esteem: “Friend, (…) You came very close [underlined in the letter] to winning the Prix Goncourt” (9). La chair de pierre<\/em>, which romanticizes the story of Claude Baillif, the first architect of New France, born around 1635, is undoubtedly the most popular book among Folch-Ribas’ peers. A letter from poet and playwright Mich\u00e8le Lalonde testifies to this: “You have written a beautiful book (…). It is, in itself, an architect’s work: the restructuring and restoration of a myth” (10). Gilles Toupin adds: “Of course, there’s the impeccable language, which captures and captivates me; there’s the figure of Claude, a little of us, a lot of you, and these chiseled sentences on architecture (…) by the great wordsmith you’ve become” (11).<\/p>\n Literary critics constitute the third circle of recognition for Jacques Folch-Ribas’ written work. A press clipping from the 1970s confirms his status: “By the third novel, you’re no longer a writer by chance: you’re a confirmed writer. It’s a difficult step to take. Folch not only passes that hurdle; he triumphs over it. (12). Journalists were full of praise: Gilles Marcotte said of Dehors les chiens<\/em> that “This book has everything it takes to become a bestseller” (13), Guy Champagne asserted that “All the work of Jacques Folch-Ribas is part of the current of what is called ‘great literature'” (14), while Fran\u00e7ois Nourissier described La chair de pierre<\/em> as “a masterpiece of craftsmanship” and a “beautiful and serious novel” (15). Finally, Louis Caron praised Folch-Ribas when he announced in Le Devoir that the architect had won the Governor General’s Award for Literature for Le Silence ou le Parfait Bonheur<\/em>: “This novel by Jacques Folch-Ribas bears witness to an exceptional mastery of writing (…). The jury was particularly struck by it (…), recognizing in it the mark of great authors” (16).<\/p>\n Finally, Jacques Folch-Ribas’ novels are recognized in other, later, less literary circles, including politics, university, and architecture. When Folch-Ribas was awarded the Prix Duvernay in 1990 for his body of work, member of the Quebec National Assembly Pauline Marois sent him a letter in which she acknowledged his contribution: “This honor clearly demonstrates your contribution to the field of literature in Quebec” (17). In 1998, Folch-Ribas presented an autobiographical text entitled “Lecture et litt\u00e9rature” (18) at a symposium. In it, he reflects on the role of the writer, but makes no mention of his profession as an architect. And yet, Folch-Ribas is also recognized by colleagues in his “first profession”. Andr\u00e9 Blouin, on the letterhead of Blouin & associ\u00e9s Architectes, expresses his enthusiasm following the publication of La chair de pierre<\/em> and its television appearance: “Bravo!… a little belatedly, but sincerely for your book first of all, but also for your appearance on the Pivot show (…) I’m very proud to have a ‘goncourable’ as a friend” (19). He continues: “I would like to renew my admiration for the communicator and the writer” (19).<\/p>\n Although Jacques Folch-Ribas is a well-known writer (\u00e9crivain), does his training as an architect have any impact on his writing? In an interview with \u00c9ric Etter published in 1993 in Continuit\u00e9 magazine, the author clarifies his position. Folch-Ribas first published at the age of 43. Yet he would have liked literature to be his main occupation: “It’s very simple: I’ve always wanted to be a writer, but I always knew, even when I was very young, that you couldn’t make a living as a writer, except in very rare cases” (20). So it was out of resignation, if you will, and a love of drawing that Folch-Ribas became an architect: “So I looked for a second profession and, of course, like all second professions, it quickly became the first” (20). He points out that there is little connection between his experience in architecture (which is a service to a client) and his experience in literature (a much freer activity): “In literature, there is no commission from the client, only ours, and that’s what’s so wonderful and makes all the difference” (20). While words may seem more ephemeral than stones, for Folch-Ribas, building architecture that lasts over time is as much a challenge as writing a novel that will endure for centuries, “especially in America, where buildings have an average life expectancy of twenty years” (20).<\/p>\n