May Our Joy Endure is the third and most daring novel written by Québecois author Kevin Lambert. Lambert moved to Montreal to study at the Université de Montréal in his late teens, allowing him to offer unique and personal insight into the city’s urban development. This is where he sets his tale of opulence and demise. Biblioasis published the work on Sept. 3, and Lambert has already won numerous awards for his originality.
The story follows revered Montreal architect Céline as anti-gentrification protestors threaten her career and reputation. Her downfall in public favour occurs after she undertakes the construction of a large company’s headquarters, which sacrifices the Parc-Extension neighbourhood in favour of a fabulous and artistically impressive architectural feat. Readers are invited into her mind as she grapples with her role as an architect working on projects that contribute to gentrification and further exacerbate the Canadian housing crisis. Lambert’s passion for and knowledge of Montreal comes through in his specificity; his sensitive descriptions of the small, locally-run businesses in Parc-Ex evoke compassion for the neighbourhood’s residents who are especially vulnerable to renovictions.
The narrative voice is particularly intriguing within Lambert’s work. His use of omniscient third-person narration invites readers to consider perspectives on both sides of the gentrification social movement, and his long, winding sentences mirror the fluid development of urban sprawl. Lambert drifts between Fitzgerald-esque descriptions of lavish opulence dotted with Céline’s philosophical musings and the harsh reality revealed through the perspectives of the anti-gentrification activists.
Even at her worst, Céline is living a life of luxury most could only dream of, swaying readers away from Céline’s excuses and self-pity. While Lambert does voice the perspectives of the non-wealthy, I found myself wanting to hear more from them than just the few pages they are given.
Themes of guilt and redemption are well-explored throughout the work. Lambert crafts the metaphor of a dying camellia that both predicts and represents the death of Céline’s career. It is revealed in the final pages that as a child, Céline killed her mother’s beloved plant as a desperate cry for love. The scent of weed killer has permeated her mind since the first murmurs of controversy, an omen of her fall from grace. This powerful metaphor places Céline as the active agent that has sowed the destruction of her career, instead of the victim of scapegoating and cancel culture she so often views herself to be. It also frames her flawed actions as an architect as acts of desperation committed by an insecure child. Céline often feels overlooked by her home province of Quebec, and despite her international acclaim, she still craves the approval and respect of her mother country.
However, the camellia metaphor does not entirely mirror her career loss. When Céline remembers killing the camellia, it is clear that she feels a great deal of guilt—the same cannot be said about the mass displacement and evictions that she has contributed to with her project. While she expresses sympathy for those affected, she always redirects the blame onto her colleagues, the “system,” or the government.
May Our Joy Endure, the mantra of the ultra-wealthy, represents the ruling classes’ insecurity in the face of social change. It is a plea for mercy and hope for the future, and in the end, it is what keeps Céline afloat. The novel ends with her finding redemption by denouncing her coworkers for their crimes. Yet it is unclear whether she has genuinely joined the movement against the upper class or if she is simply doing this to repair her reputation. This ambiguity leaves readers to wonder how much of the activism promoted by public figures is performative and whether the proletariat has the means of truly holding the upper classes accountable for their actions.
May Our Joy Endure was published on Sept. 3 and is now available for purchase.
