There is one word that overwhelmingly comes to mind while reading Such a Good Education: bleak. The novel, set in Montreal during the waning years of “The Great Darkness” under Maurice Duplessis, practically reeks of despair. 

It is the fall of 1956, and the narrator, Evelyne, is about to turn 14. Her family is taking possession of a cold, rat-infested apartment in the beleaguered neighbourhood of Saint-Henri, where her misguided father believes he will make his fortune running a dilapidated grocery store.

Evelyne quickly discovers that only through academic knowledge can she begin to envision an escape from the deplorable life she is living. She recognizes that her options as a young female are extremely limited, but she is determined to make the most of her strict Catholic education and escape destitution. Her family’s continued slide down the socio-economic ladder almost scuttles her ambition, but her extraordinary intelligence allows her to struggle on.

Evelyne is incredibly introspective, constantly analyzing her thoughts and emotions. She is fundamentally aware of the limitations placed on her by her family, class, and society, and she grapples with how to balance the expectations of being a good Christian woman – one who is selfless, obedient, and respectful of authority – with her (perceived selfish) desire for knowledge and a better life.   

Author France Théoret is an established voice in Quebec, and here she uses her young protagonist as a symbol of the plight of women during the Duplessis years, when a “good education” referred to not only the morality espoused by Catholic teachers but also the absolute surrender to a misogynistic ideal of obedient femininity.

Luise von Flotow’s translation employs a combination of tenses and expressions that is at times choppy and distracting. Still, Théoret’s voice and the strength of her writing come through, though the novel’s constant dreariness may prove too much for some readers.