Michel Rabagliati’s Paul Returns in a Nostalgic Montreal Journey

To really understand Michel Rabagliati, you almost have to be from Quebec. His books are packed tighter than a rush-hour Orange Line métro with little homegrown references, neighborhood memories, dépanneur moments, and that unmistakable Montreal state of mind. If you grew up around here, especially hearing the mix of joual, old family stories, hockey chatter, and Sunday walks through Plateau streets, the Paul series hits differently. But even if you are not from Quebec, you eventually fall for Paul anyway. That is the magic trick Rabagliati pulls off every single time. No matter where you live in the world, there is a little bit of Paul in all of us.

As with past releases, the newest book arrives first in glorious French, with the English translation expected to follow soon after. The latest chapter in the beloved series, Paul: Y a d’la joie, is published by La Pastèque. This marks the tenth installment in the long-running semi-autobiographical saga, and this time around, Paul is now 64 years old, older, wiser, maybe a little more tired, but still wandering through life with that same observant heart.

What makes this book stand out is how intimate and fragmented it feels. The whole story unfolds over roughly 48 hours, almost like you are sitting beside Paul while he drifts through a couple of ordinary Montreal days. There is no giant dramatic hook. No explosive plot twist. Just life happening one little moment at a time. A piano session. A métro ride. A walk through the neighborhood. The kind of stuff most people overlook while hurrying to catch the bus on Sainte-Catherine in February slush.

Rabagliati has always been brilliant at finding beauty in the ordinary, and here he leans into that even more deeply. The book quietly explores aging, grief, artistic creation, memory, and the strange melancholy that creeps in when you realize time keeps moving, whether you are ready or not. Like earlier books such as Paul at Home, it touches on losing parents, holding onto music, reconnecting with nature, and trying to stay grounded through the small rituals that keep you going.

There is something incredibly Montreal about the whole thing, too. Not the postcard version with tourists taking selfies at Old Port, but the real Montreal. The corner stores. The side streets. The quiet conversations. The familiar faces on the métro platform. It feels like a slow nostalgic balade montréalaise through memory itself.

What Rabagliati understands better than almost anybody is that life is rarely about the giant moments. It is the little gestures that matter. A conversation. A walk around the block. Sitting quietly with your thoughts while the city hums around you. Paul: Y a d’la joie captures that perfectly, balancing melancholy with warmth in a way only Quebec storytellers seem able to do without ever feeling forced.

That is why Paul endures. He is not a superhero. He is not larger than life. He is just one guy trying to make sense of getting older in Montreal while carrying memories, regrets, joys, and little moments of hope along the way. Tabarnak, that feels familiar.

Street date: June 1, 2026