4/365: The Child and the River by Henri Bosco

The Child and the River by Henri Bosco Translated from: French Rating: ★★★★½ Publication Date: January 1, 1945 Genre: fiction Pages: 96 ReRead?: No A new translation of an evocative, Huckleberry Finn –esque French bestseller about a young farmboy, the river where he is forbidden to play, and the adventures that ensue when he disobeys his family’s wishes. The Child and the River tells a simple but haunting tale. Pascalet, a boy growing up on a farm in the south of France, is permitted by his parents to play wherever he likes—only never by the river. Prohibition turns into Pascalet dreams of nothing so much as heading down to the river, and one day, with his parents away, he does. Wandering along the bank, intoxicated with newfound freedom, he falls asleep in a rowboat and wakes to find himself caught in rapids and run aground on an island where a band of Gypsies has pitched camp together with their trained bear. Hiding in the underbrush, Pascalet observes that the group includes a boy his age, who, after receiving a whipping, has been left tied to a post. This is Gatzo, and as soon as night falls, Pascalet sets him loose. The boys escape in a boat and spend an idyllic week on the river. But then the mysterious “puppeteer of souls” arrives, bringing their adventure to an end, and Pascalet must go back home to face the music. Has he seen the last of his new friend?

Clocking in at a slender 96 pages, this novella by French writer Henri Bosco punches above its weight class. It’s the kind of book that you might read twice, or even three times, in a row, revelling in the storytelling and the language each time.

Published in 1945, on the heels of the end of WWII, it is nonetheless timeless, without a hint of the politics or hardship of that period, told from the perspective of a child. The titular child, Pascalet, is a boy of maybe 10 to 12 years old – I don’t recall his age ever being specifically identified. The story concerns an interlude in his life of several days, after he has defied his father’s order to never go near the river.

Everyone who has raised a child, or been a child, should know that forbidding a child from doing something very nearly ensures that they will do exactly that thing as soon as they think they can get away with it. Pascalet’s parents go out of town, leaving him with Tante Martine, and he is off to the river, packing a napsack and crossing fields to get there.

From there, Pascalet falls into a slipstream and finds himself on an adventure with another boy, Gatzo, whom he has rescued from a band of gypsies who come complete with a tame bear. Gatzo and Pascalet steal a stolen boat from the gypsies and live on the river for a time.

I didn’t read this in the original French, but the language supplied by the translator is beautiful because Pascalet is enchanted by the river. Sunrises, sunsets, fish, reeds and waterbirds all get their descriptions as the river days of Pascalet and Gatzo slip by, out of time and place. It is haunting and lovely. An idyll.

We know that the narrator is an old man now, so we also know that Pascalet returns to his normal life by the end of the book. Gatzo and Pascalet step back into the real world by going to see a puppeteer performance in a nearby village. Pascalet is recovered and Gatzo disappears, although not forever.

The Child and the River feels ineffably French. It can be read in a single, magical hour.