54 pages • 1 hour read
Jacques PoulinA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Having crossed the Mississippi from Illinois into Iowa, Jack and La Grande Sauterelle park the Volkswagen to greet “the great river of Louis Jolliet and Pere Marquette” (84). An old man stands nearby, gazing at the rolling water, and Jack initiates a brief conversation with him. Back in the minibus, Jack admits to the girl that, whenever he sees an old man by a river, he can’t resist the urge to talk with him. He has never known why, until now. Because he feels himself ripening into old age, he now realizes that “what old men are gazing at […] is their own death” (85). His need to talk with them comes from his deep desire to learn “what it is they’ve seen on the other side and whether they’ve discovered what you have to do to get there” (85-86).
On June 1, they arrive in St. Louis. To reduce their expenses, they camp in a parking lot after the girl secures permission from the parking attendant. Beneath the city’s towering arch, they discover a “museum devoted to the conquest of the West: the Museum of Westward Expansion” (88), which endlessly fascinates both Jack and La Grande Sauterelle. They spend several days there and learn that St. Louis once served as a central gateway to the West—hence the city’s symbolic metal arch. In the 1840s, caravans of wagons assembled near St. Louis, at the starting point of the Oregon Trail, and, “after a five-thousand kilometre journey, they reached the Promised Land” (88) in the West.
One day, as Jack leaves the museum, “a wave of memories” (88) swamps him with thoughts of his past failures and losses. He tries to redirect himself by reading Explorers of the Mississippi, a book the girl “borrowed” from the store, but “[v]iolence burst out of every page” (89) in what proves to be a history of genocide and betrayals. After shutting the book, “[h]e spent two days in a state of almost total despondency” (89), sleeping for long stretches in the Volkswagen.
Meanwhile, La Grande Sauterelle gets to know Johnny, the parking lot attendant. They talk in his booth and go for long walks. Late one night, the girl returns to the minibus and, impatient with Jack’s ongoing detachment, insists that he listen to her. She says she has news about Théo, which instantly dispels Jack’s torpor. One of Johnny’s friends, a reporter, is researching the French presence in St. Louis, and he recalls seeing Théo’s name in an old newspaper article. According to the reporter, “the article described an incident” that occurred near Kansas City (92).
Before following Théo’s trail to Kansas City, Jack and La Grande Sauterelle take an excursion on the Mississippi aboard The Natchez, a reproduction of an old paddle-wheel steamboat. During their short tour of the river, the captain describes “how St. Louis had looked during the last century, with its unpaved streets […] and candlelit inns where trappers arriving from the West mingled with shopkeepers […] and immigrants from the East” (95). After they return to the wharf, Jack asks the captain the question foremost in his mind: “[W]hat kind of people had decided, in the early 1840s, to give up everything and travel across” a continent by wagon (96)? Jack guesses the answer is “adventurers,” but the captain replies, “Ordinary people.”
While driving to Kansas City, La Grande Sauterelle coaxes Jack into disclosing why he experienced such despair in St. Louis. He shares his realization that, as a writer, he submerged himself so thoroughly in his fictional worlds that he neglected his own life and the people who were once part of it. Moreover, he admits, “it’s entirely possible that I’ve never loved anybody in my whole life. It’s a sad thing to say” (98).
Jack confesses he is also grappling with “complicated” thoughts about his brother. Struggling to articulate his ideas, he offers a couple of disconnected reflections: First, because he hasn’t seen Théo for 20 years, his brother is “half real and half invented. And if there was another half… […] [it] would be me, […] the part of me that’s forgotten how to live” (98). Additionally, Jack observes that “Théo, like the pioneers, was absolutely convinced that he could do whatever he wanted” (99).
Outside Kansas City, in a town called Independence, they meet with Ernest Burke, the reporter who noticed Théo’s name in a newspaper. They find the article in question at the historical society and read that Théo had been accused of breaking into the Kansas City Museum of History and attempting to steal “an old map, hand drawn in 1840 by a Jesuit of French origin” (100). Jack refuses to pursue the matter any further. Noting that it is getting late, he thanks Ernest, and they leave.
For the next three days, Jack stays in bed, refusing to eat or speak. La Grande Sauterelle tries to talk with him, but “the man was completely motionless and did not reply to her questions” (103). When he finally emerges from his sleeping bag, he explains he was experiencing “the deep-sea diver’s complex, […] a pathological state in which a person withdraws into himself” like a diver descending into the sea (106). The complex results from the desire to escape “insurmountable” problems and take refuge in a “new world.” Addressing the troublesome revelation of Théo’s criminal behavior, Jack suggests that “Théo was a Quebec nationalist,” and his intention was to return the francophone artifact to its homeland (106).
Despite the scorching surface of the parking lot in Independence where they are “camping,” La Grande Sauterelle crawls under the Volkswagen to give it a tune-up. To show his appreciation, Jack makes a nice dinner, but afterwards, they realize they haven’t seen the cat for a long time. Noting that the cat dislikes the parking lot because “[h]e was born in the country” (110), as were his parents and grandparents, the girl supposes he is exploring the field nearby. They search the field, and the adjacent streets and backyards, but do not find the cat.
By nightfall, “the girl was in a very bad way” (111). Jack assures her the cat will return, as cats have an excellent sense of direction. La Grande Sauterelle doesn’t share Jack’s confidence and counters that “there’s the question of territory. As long as cats are on their own territory, they manage fine. But when they have no territory?” (111).
After a restless night, they eat breakfast and brainstorm strategies for recovering the cat. While Jack is showering, however, the cat reappears, no worse for his long adventure. He isn’t even hungry. They speculate that he feasted on a mouse, or a bird, or “Shepherd’s pie” or “Chop Suey,” this last suggestion inspiring the cat’s new name (113).
It is hot in Kansas City. Jack tries to read in the Volkswagen—“There were books in every nook and cranny” (114)—but can’t concentrate. He expresses a desire to be by the ocean. Pointing at the map she’s reading, La Grande Sauterelle declares significantly, “Look […] there’s where we are. Almost in the middle of America!” (115). She then asks when they will embark on the Oregon Trail, indicating her intention to continue traveling with Jack. Pleased by the prospect of her company, Jack nevertheless wonders why the girl thinks the Oregon Trail will lead them to Théo. She shows him a book the reporter gave her titled The Oregon Trail Revisited, and he realizes, as she has, that Théo’s Toronto police file listed this book among his belongings.
The narrative has established a number of similarities between Jack and La Grande Sauterelle: they are both “crazy about museums” (88) and books, and both are on a journey—literally—to determine their respective identities. In these chapters, however, the differences between the man and the girl become more pronounced. Jack, in particular, is mindful of the 20 years that separate them in age. Having recently turned 40, he tells La Grande Sauterelle that he is “old enough now to know that” when old men stand by the water’s shore, gazing, they are gazing at “their own death” (85). Later, during their sojourn in “the middle of America,” Jack misses the ocean (115). When the girl asks which one, Jack replies, “At my age, a sea with a setting sun would be most appropriate, […] [b]ut you, at your age” (115).
These two pronouncements from Jack betray his preoccupation with his own mortality and intersect with another key difference between him and the girl: While she is bold and outgoing, he is timid and irresolute. Jack marvels at the action films of Sam Peckinpah, and he admires the adventurousness of Théo, who, “like the pioneers, was absolutely convinced that he could do whatever he wanted” (99). The girl, who is driving while Jack likens Théo to the pioneers, displays her own boldness immediately following Jack’s words. Suddenly realizing she needs to exit the highway, she jerks “the wheel to the right, slipped between two cars and took the exit with tires squealing” (99).
As much as he esteems bold initiative and derring-do, Jack is not a man of action himself. Reflecting on his occupation as a writer, he tells the girl, “There are people who say that writing is a way of living; if you ask me, it’s also a way of not living. I mean, you shut yourself away inside a book, […] and don’t pay much attention to what’s going on around you” (98). As Jack awakens to the possibility that he has not really lived—and maybe “never loved anybody” (98)—he regrets more sharply his passing youth, and his mortality looms ever larger.
Jack has ventured away from his writing ostensibly to search for his brother, but his true motive, arguably, is to reclaim his life and identity before it’s too late. During the process, he finds that the heroism he has long attributed to the early French explorers, to his French-Canadian culture, and to his own brother does not withstand scrutiny. With these challenges to his fundamental beliefs about his personal world, Jack is “faced with problems that seem insurmountable” (106). Because he is not a man of action, he tries to avoid the disturbing news they discover about Théo, retreating into his sleeping bag like a deep-sea diver.
While Jack has a deep-seated admiration for boldness and feels inferior for lack of it, he also has a profound distaste for violence. In Detroit and Chicago, Jack and the girl are surprised by suggestions that violence is lurking in the city streets. They then travel to St. Louis, where Jack opens a book about explorers on the Mississippi, but “[v]iolence burst out on every page,” leaving him “in a state of almost total despondency” (89).
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