Frederic Grover | 1920 - 2008

My father passed away last week.  I loved him and miss him very much.

My fondest memories of my dad are of him at his house in Coutainville, the coastal village in Normandy where we used to vacation every summer.  With its endless rooms and sun-drenched veranda overlooking a wild garden filled with tall trees, the house is a symbol of my childhood and it was, I think, where my dad was most in his element.

We lived near the ocean, which he loved, and as a kid I would climb onto the back of his bicycle and we'd head down to the seaside for a swim.  I can still see him wading into the choppy waters of the Atlantic coast beneath a stormy grey sky, disappearing under the waves for several strokes before re-emerging and calling out to me to join him.  "Viens mon minet.  Elle est bonne!"  On our way back we'd stop at a street stand and buy a large box of piping hot french fries that we'd season at home with coarse sea salt.  At home there was no TV, no telephone.  There were his books and his radio (faithful companions), and there was us.  Sometimes we'd go for longer bike rides, past La Pointe d'Agon.  He'd pack chocolate sandwiches which had usually melted by the time we found some shade and stopped for lunch.  Some days we'd bike down the highway to the nearby town of Coutance where we'd buy a pain-au-chocolat from a bakery.  I'd eat it sitting next to him in the pews of the Cathedral.

In the evenings, my dad would read me Agatha Christie novels. In the mornings, it was Tintin or Asterix & Obelix.  On my birthday he gave me a bicycle and I learned to ride it racing over the black and white tiles of the veranda.

Frederic passed away peacefully at South Granville Park Lodge on January 29 after three years of battle with vascular dementia. Students, friends and family will remember his soft, warm voice and distinctive, elegant way of speaking, which, along with his unique wit, he kept until the very last days of his life.  I would like to express my gratitude to the staff for their most kind and wonderful care, and especially to Amelita for the loving care, company, and support she gave to Fred.  My dad is survived by his loving family, his wife Marianne (my mother) and my sister Caroline.  Maman et Caro, je vous aime.  My love also to Fred's daughters Claire and Eve (my sisters from my dad's first marriage with Gloria) and Eve's children (Fred's grand-children, my nieces and nephews) Sarah, Rachel, David, and Gaby.  My sincere thanks to our friends and family who came to the service on Saturday and the gathering on Sunday and to everyone who has written, called, and dropped by over the past week to express their sadness  -- your solidarity is comforting.

Papa, I loved you very much.  I  miss you, and you will be sorely missed by all those whose lives you touched.

Here is the tribute written by Dr. Larry Bongie who was the head of the Department when Frederic was professor of French literature at UBC.

Frederic Grover was born in France on June 25 1920.  He completed his undergraduate education at the universities of Paris, Strasbourg and Toulouse. From 1941 to 1945, during the German occupation, he participated in the French underground and later served for four years at the rank of captain in the French Military Government in Berlin and Westphalia. Employment as an Executive Assistant in the Allied High Commission brought him to the United States in 1949 and soon after he began concurrent post-graduate studies, first at Columbia, and finally at the University of California (Berkeley) where he acquired a Ph.D in Romance Literature in 1954. That same year, he joined the faculty at Swarthmore as a professor of French. In 1967, he was appointed Professor of French at the University of British Columbia. He took normal retirement in 1985.

Professor Grover was an esteemed and influential teacher of twentieth-century literature in the Department of French where, throughout the years, he made key contributions to the Department’s rapidly expanding Honours and Graduate Studies programs. He was, in addition, a highly regarded research scholar, internationally recognized for his perceptive and discerning accounts of the literary and political history of France’s post-war era and the particular writings of various major authors who were central to the ideological conflicts of the period such as Pierre Drieu La Rochelle, to whom he devoted several biographical and critical book-length studies. In his investigations, Professor Grover was especially effective in the use of unpublished primary data, literary archives, private diaries and correspondence. Most notable perhaps in this regard was his ability to elicit and interpret in sustained interviews the direct testimony of such influential literary giants of the day as André Malraux, François Mauriac, and Jean Paulhan. Professor Grover was the recipient of numerous research fellowships, including Guggenheim and Senior Killam awards. He died in Vancouver on 29 January 2008.

Comments

[karen]

Dear Fabrice,

It is nice to read on your dad and see him.
Thank you for sharing!

Take care,

Karen

[Guy]

Hi Fabrice,
I'm very sorry to hear about your loss. What a loving tribute to a beautiful man. I see now where you got your good nature and appreciation for the beauty that surrounds you. Thank you for sharing such a personal moment.
Warm hugs,
Guy

[Rose]

Dear Fabrice, I'm so sorry to hear about your loss... this must be a difficult time for you, please let me know if there is anything I can do.

*Hugs*

Rose

[Rosehawk]

Fabrice,

*Hugs*

Beautiful write-up about your Dad! Thanks for sharing such a personal moment and be sure to take time for yourself to heal!

*More hugs*

Rosie

[Serena]

Fabrice, Caroline and Marianne,

I am so sorry to hear about Fred's passing. My family's thoughts and prayers are with you all.
Thanks for posting these words on your Dad's life.

Serena

[Alireza]

Dear Fabrice,
I’m deeply sorry for your loss and please accept my condolences. The way you described the moments with your father in France was so touching. Hope time can heal this sorrow. Please let me know if you need my help in any way.
Alireza

[rachel]

beautiful post fabrice. so glad to have been able to share last weekend with you.

thinking of you.

love rach

[Tenny]

Fabrice,

This is a beautiful tribute to your father. It was lovely to see you last week and you're in my thoughts. Love, Tenny

[Steve]

That was a truly touching tribute Fab.

Wonderfully vivid description of your summers in France... When we were kids you used to describe those bike rides with your dad with the same fondness.

It is so true that when your dad spoke it was always so deliberate and with such elegance that I couldn't help but to hang on every word(even when it was in French!)

All my love to you and your family again Fab.

Steve

[Sara]

Hi Fab -
So sorry to hear about your dad - my thoughts are with you and your family.

Sara

[David Nykl]

Once again, condolences to you, your mom and sisters for your loss. And thanks for having us over last week - it was truly tremendous on your part. May your sadness have an unhurried path...

[Jacquie Steuart]

So sorry to hear your news about your father. What a beautiful and loving tribute to him that he has a son who cherishes him so much. Best wishes to you and your family during this difficult time,
Jacquie

[Melanie Blackwell]

hi Fabrice,
Sorry to read about your father's passing. Your writings about him were beautiful to read. I hope you are doing alright and take comfort in your memories of him.
best wishes and love,
Mel

[Stephanie van Reigersberg]

Marianne, Fabrice, Caroline,
I have been thinking about you, all four of you for days now, and somehow I decided to google Frederic, and up popped Fabrice's blog--what a strange coincidence and how grateful I am to be able to send all three of you my deepest sympathy. I know how much you loved him and how much you will miss him. You all know that he was a major figure in my young life and that I have never ceased being grateful for all that he gave me while I was his student. Please give my condolences to Eve and Claire and let me know how you are all doing. Much love to all the Grovers and, Fabrice, thank you from the bottom of my heart for posting that wonderful photo!!,
Stephie

[Nicola Cooper]

Marianne, Fabrice and Caroline,

I was so saddened to hear of your great loss. 'Uncle' Freddie, I heard so much about from Grandma and Grandpa (Dick and Jessie), and indeed all of you on their visits to Coutainville. I have such lovely memories of all of you in Vancouver in summer 2003 when I stayed with you. Mummy, Jono and I send our love you all. xxxx

[Yvonne Hsieh]

Dear Fabrice:

I don't believe we have ever met, but I was your father's student in 1977-1978. We were briefly colleagues from 1983-1985, after I returned to UBC as a sessional instructor and post-doctoral fellow for a few years before moving on to the University of Victoria, where I am still teaching. We kept in touch until around 1995.
I have never forgotten him, but he was particularly present in my mind this summer, as I was preparing for a new graduate course to be taught this fall. For this course, I chose four novels I had first read in the class I took with Dr. Grover over thirty years ago: Proust's Du côté de chez Swann, Gide's Les Faux Monnayeurs, Céline's Voyage au bout de la nuit, and Malraux's La Condition humaine. I even found my course notes for Fren 415! In re-reading them, I was once again reminded of the huge intellectual debt I owe Dr. Grover. It was largely due to his influence that I chose to specialize in 20th-century French Literature when I went on to pursue my doctoral studies at Stanford University.
I am glad to have found and read the beautiful tribute you wrote to your father, even though I was very sad to learn of his passing.
My very belated condolences to you and your family. I have fond memories of Marianne, and even remember meeting Caroline once when she was a little girl.
Sincerely,
Yvonne Hsieh

[briscola online]

I feel the same, because I lost my father last year too... We just have to accept it and move on with our lives.. and wait for our next meeting..