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1 pages, Paperback
First published August 8, 2017
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About the author
Alice Zeniter
34 books319 followersAlice Zeniter is a French novelist, translator, scriptwriter, dramatist and director.
She has won a Prix Renaudot young adult award for her third novel, Juste avant l'Oubli, and a Prix Goncourt young adult for her fourth novel, L'Art de Perdre.
Zeniter published her first novel, Deux moins un égal zéro, at the age of 16. Her second novel, Jusque dans nos bras, was published in 2010 and translated in English as Take This Man.
Her latest novel, L'Art de Perdre, won multiple prizes and awards.
She has won a Prix Renaudot young adult award for her third novel, Juste avant l'Oubli, and a Prix Goncourt young adult for her fourth novel, L'Art de Perdre.
Zeniter published her first novel, Deux moins un égal zéro, at the age of 16. Her second novel, Jusque dans nos bras, was published in 2010 and translated in English as Take This Man.
Her latest novel, L'Art de Perdre, won multiple prizes and awards.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 875 reviews
September 26, 2018
L’art de perdre est un livre tout simplement EX-CEP-TION-NEL. Et je ne sais pas vraiment par où commencer pour exprimer ce que j’en pense.
Il s’agit d’un livre qui parle, non pas de l’Algérie, mais je dirais de l’algérianité réelle ou fantasmée en France. Un sujet dont tout le monde parle mais dont personne ne sait vraiment de quoi il s’agit (ce qui veut dire que personne ne sait vraiment de quoi il parle ce que je savais déjà). Il se subdivise en trois parties racontant les affres de trois génération : celle qui a connu la guerre, celle qui a beaucoup trimé pour s’intégrer et rompre quelque part avec ses parents et celle qui a tout oublié, le regrette et souhaite inconsciemment en savoir un peu plus sur ses racines.
Le livre donne une vision très éclairante de situations dont j’avais une idée complètement fausse. Par exemple, les harkis. Fort de mes cours d’histoires de quatrième, je pensais, de manière tout à fait simpliste, qu’un harki est quelqu’un qui, au cours de la guerre d’Algérie, pour diverses raisons, avait combattu les armes à la main avec l’armée française dans les maquis algériens pour les vider des combattants du FLN. Pas du tout, c’est beaucoup moins simple comme cela et le livre le démontre par l’exemple de manière éclatante. Pareil pour les rapatriés de 1962 et la façon dont ils furent « accueillis » dans les camps si on peut appeler cela un accueil. Là encore, le livre fait une œuvre pédagogique absolument salutaire, nous expliquant les choses, en nous éclairant sur un sujet dont j’ignorais tout mais qui gagne vraiment à être connu. C’est un livre qui « rend intelligent » dans la mesure où il tord le cou à des idées reçues bien ancrées pour notre plus grand bénéfice.
Mais ce n’est pas tout. Le côté historique précis du livre n’est qu’un by-product, car l’œuvre est avant tout une formidable saga romanesque, avec des personnages attachants, aux destinées, pour certains d’entre eux, tragiques et avec lesquels on n’a aucun mal à s’identifier. Je parle des personnages principaux (Ali, Hamid, Naïma) bien sûr, mais aussi de la myriade de personnages secondaires (le lieutenant du FLN, l’oncle Mohammed, Rachida l’algérienne « libérée » etc etc…), personnages criants de vérité, qu’on a l’impression pour certains d’avoir déjà rencontrés quelque part et qui contribuent par là à rendre le livre encore plus bouleversant.
Et enfin, pour finir, mentionnons le style absolument délicieux d’Alice Zeniter. Le livre est écrit dans une langue magnifique, un style érudit et fluide à la fois. On y mentionne la poésie la plus élitiste et les films de super héros sans que cela ne fasse jamais plaqué, toujours à propos, pour illustrer un fait, un état d’âme ou une péripétie du récit. Il y a d’innombrables petits passages ou des personnages font des réflexions sur la société, la manière dont les choses évoluent, réflexions lumineuses dont la clairvoyance n’a rien à envier à celle d’un George Orwell (une référence absolue pour moi !). Des exemples ? Le petit laïus du prof qui explique à Naïma que ses élèves issus de l’immigration se plaignent du racisme alors que ce sont eux qui manifestent une attitude beaucoup plus raciste que celles dont ils se plaignent. Aussi – un passage que j’ai beaucoup aimé – lorsque Rachida, l’algérienne de Tizi-Ouzou, déplore que les jeunes algériennes de maintenant s’auto-imposent, en même temps qu’elles s’en plaignent, les contraintes édictées par les islamistes (cheveux dissimulés, ne pas boire d’alcool, tenue « décente ») alors que rien, ni la loi, ni même la pression sociale (dans les grandes villes) ne les empêche de faire ce qu’elle veulent vraiment. De nombreux micro-passages au cours de ces cinq-cents pages où on se dit « Ah oui c’est vrai, c’est ce que je ressens même si je n’ai jamais réussi à le formuler correctement ».
En conclusion, un livre absolument bouleversant, salutaire, qu’on n’arrive pas à oublier même longtemps après l’avoir refermé.
Il s’agit d’un livre qui parle, non pas de l’Algérie, mais je dirais de l’algérianité réelle ou fantasmée en France. Un sujet dont tout le monde parle mais dont personne ne sait vraiment de quoi il s’agit (ce qui veut dire que personne ne sait vraiment de quoi il parle ce que je savais déjà). Il se subdivise en trois parties racontant les affres de trois génération : celle qui a connu la guerre, celle qui a beaucoup trimé pour s’intégrer et rompre quelque part avec ses parents et celle qui a tout oublié, le regrette et souhaite inconsciemment en savoir un peu plus sur ses racines.
Le livre donne une vision très éclairante de situations dont j’avais une idée complètement fausse. Par exemple, les harkis. Fort de mes cours d’histoires de quatrième, je pensais, de manière tout à fait simpliste, qu’un harki est quelqu’un qui, au cours de la guerre d’Algérie, pour diverses raisons, avait combattu les armes à la main avec l’armée française dans les maquis algériens pour les vider des combattants du FLN. Pas du tout, c’est beaucoup moins simple comme cela et le livre le démontre par l’exemple de manière éclatante. Pareil pour les rapatriés de 1962 et la façon dont ils furent « accueillis » dans les camps si on peut appeler cela un accueil. Là encore, le livre fait une œuvre pédagogique absolument salutaire, nous expliquant les choses, en nous éclairant sur un sujet dont j’ignorais tout mais qui gagne vraiment à être connu. C’est un livre qui « rend intelligent » dans la mesure où il tord le cou à des idées reçues bien ancrées pour notre plus grand bénéfice.
Mais ce n’est pas tout. Le côté historique précis du livre n’est qu’un by-product, car l’œuvre est avant tout une formidable saga romanesque, avec des personnages attachants, aux destinées, pour certains d’entre eux, tragiques et avec lesquels on n’a aucun mal à s’identifier. Je parle des personnages principaux (Ali, Hamid, Naïma) bien sûr, mais aussi de la myriade de personnages secondaires (le lieutenant du FLN, l’oncle Mohammed, Rachida l’algérienne « libérée » etc etc…), personnages criants de vérité, qu’on a l’impression pour certains d’avoir déjà rencontrés quelque part et qui contribuent par là à rendre le livre encore plus bouleversant.
Et enfin, pour finir, mentionnons le style absolument délicieux d’Alice Zeniter. Le livre est écrit dans une langue magnifique, un style érudit et fluide à la fois. On y mentionne la poésie la plus élitiste et les films de super héros sans que cela ne fasse jamais plaqué, toujours à propos, pour illustrer un fait, un état d’âme ou une péripétie du récit. Il y a d’innombrables petits passages ou des personnages font des réflexions sur la société, la manière dont les choses évoluent, réflexions lumineuses dont la clairvoyance n’a rien à envier à celle d’un George Orwell (une référence absolue pour moi !). Des exemples ? Le petit laïus du prof qui explique à Naïma que ses élèves issus de l’immigration se plaignent du racisme alors que ce sont eux qui manifestent une attitude beaucoup plus raciste que celles dont ils se plaignent. Aussi – un passage que j’ai beaucoup aimé – lorsque Rachida, l’algérienne de Tizi-Ouzou, déplore que les jeunes algériennes de maintenant s’auto-imposent, en même temps qu’elles s’en plaignent, les contraintes édictées par les islamistes (cheveux dissimulés, ne pas boire d’alcool, tenue « décente ») alors que rien, ni la loi, ni même la pression sociale (dans les grandes villes) ne les empêche de faire ce qu’elle veulent vraiment. De nombreux micro-passages au cours de ces cinq-cents pages où on se dit « Ah oui c’est vrai, c’est ce que je ressens même si je n’ai jamais réussi à le formuler correctement ».
En conclusion, un livre absolument bouleversant, salutaire, qu’on n’arrive pas à oublier même longtemps après l’avoir refermé.
December 7, 2018
In un mondo che pretende che tutti primeggino, c’è bisogno di libri che insegnino anche l’arte di perdere.
Un antidoto alla banalizzazione etnica e culturale in corso nel mondo globalizzato, sempre più radicalizzato su posizioni inconciliabili, inizia come una fiaba e finisce per essere anche un racconto generazionale che mostra il progressivo cambiamento valoriale che si verifica tra padri e figli.
Recensione completa qui: https://www.illibraio.it/arte-di-perd...
Un antidoto alla banalizzazione etnica e culturale in corso nel mondo globalizzato, sempre più radicalizzato su posizioni inconciliabili, inizia come una fiaba e finisce per essere anche un racconto generazionale che mostra il progressivo cambiamento valoriale che si verifica tra padri e figli.
Recensione completa qui: https://www.illibraio.it/arte-di-perd...
May 31, 2022
"The Art of Losing" is a postcolonial novel telling the story of a Kabyle Berber family. Berbers are an ethnic minority, 17% against 83% of the Arab population and live mainly in mountainous areas. Algeria is huge, the second largest African country, there are all sorts of landscapes, not only plains, in which the action of the "Outsider" unfolds.
The way of life until the middle of the last century was completely patriarchal (and it still is). Kabyles were conscripted into the French army and regularly participated in wars, neither the First nor the Second World did not bypass them. But returning to their mountains with orders, they continued the life they had led since childhood. Except for receiving a pension from the occupation government. Everything changes with the heyday of the national liberation movement, when the fighters of the FNL (National Liberation Front) come to the village and explain that taxes now need to be paid to them, and not to the French, that whoever continues to receive a pension is a traitor and, accordingly, we will cut like sheep.
And then everything became bad, so bad that it was impossible to imagine. With the departure of the French, a civil war began, a massacre in which the "henchmen of the occupiers" and their families were threatened with death and there was no one to protect them. And the only way to escape was to jump into the void empty-handed - emigration to a country for which they fought at one time, with which they considered themselves connected, This novel is not the easiest and carefree reading at all. but the story of the escape is downright bleeding pages.
And the filtration camp, in which the native narrators, Naima lived for the next three years, is such a concentrated humiliation. disenfranchisement, the inability to feel like a full-fledged person. And monstrous statistics about the average length of stay of refugees in such camps - more than ten years. Their family was lucky: his father's job at a factory in Normandy, housing, the boy's studies at a normal school - not one where teachers gave up on the educational process, unable to overcome the barrier of trilingualism, and students draw flowers in the classroom. Hamit had a hard time, but he studied and went to college. And he left his family, striving to integrate more firmly into the brave new world.
Alice Zeniter's book is about how the daughter and granddaughter of migrants in the second generation live and feel. How difficult it is to sit between two chairs when the old motherland rejected you, and the new one did not fully accept you. How scary it is to be considered an Islamic terrorist, how you hate them for what they do, and how paradoxically you rush to the defense when they - and in fact, your kind and yourself - are spoken ill of.
Где ты, моя родина?
Говоришь, возвращайся в свой дом?
Я, быть может, вернуться и рада...
Там гадюка живёт под бревном,
И тревожить гадюку не надо.
Ов Сергеева
Что я знала об Алжире? Моя подруга жила там два года в середине семидесятых, когда страна вставала на социалистический путь развития, Аленкины родители, химики, помогали налаживать производство. На фотографиях тех лет она такая золотисто-шоколадная, облитая солнцем. Вспоминает невероятные фрукты, которые могли себе позволить даже советские специалисты, отчаянно экономившие на всем, чтобы привести домой внешторговские чеки. А с местными она там, конечно, не общалась.
Был еще "Посторонний" Камю, помните: рассказчик-француз убивает на пляже араба, но приговаривают его за то, что не плакал на похоронах матери? И... И все. До книги Алис Зенитер я думала, что страна это стабильная и благополучная, в сравнении не только с соседями по материку, но и с большинством Ближневосточных. А проблемы, сопровождавшие крушение колониальной системы, обошли Алжир стороной, - думала.
Нет, никому не было легко, и нигде не обошлось без крови. "Искусство терять" постколониальный роман, рассказывающий историю семьи кабильских берберов. Берберы составляют этническое меньшинство, 17% против 83% арабского населения и живут преимущественно в горных областях. Алжир огромный, вторая по площади африканская страна, там всякие есть ландшафты, не только равнинные, в которых разворачивается действие "Посторонне��о".
Уклад жизни до середины прошлого века был совершенно патриархальным (да он и теперь такой). Кабилы призывались во французскую армию и регулярно участвовали в войнах, ни Первая, ни Вторая Мировые не обошли их стороной. Но возвращаясь в свои горы с орденами они продолжали ту жизнь, какую вели с детства. Разве что получая от оккупационного правительства пенсию. Все изменяется с расцветом национально-освободительного движения, когда бойцы ФНО (Фронта национального освобождения) приходят в деревню и объясняют, что налоги теперь нужно платить им, а не французам, что кто продолжит получать пенсию - тот предатель и соответственно - будем резать как баранов.
А дальше все стало плохо, настолько, что и вообразить нельзя было. С уходом французов началась гражданская война, резня, в которой "прихвостням оккупантов" и их семьям грозила смерть и некому было их защитить. И единственной возможностью спастись стал прыжок в пустоту с пустыми руками - эмиграция в страну, за которую в свое время воевали, с которой считали себя связанными Этот роман вообще не самое легкое и беззаботное чтение. но история бегства - прямо-таки кровоточащие страницы.
А фильтрационный лагерь, в котором родные рассказчицы, Наимы прожили три следующих года, такое концентрированное унижение. бесправие, невозможность ощутить себя полноценным человеком. И чудовищная статистика о среднем сроке пребывания беженцев в таких лагерях - больше десяти лет. Их семье повезло: работа отца на заводе в Нормандии, жилье, учеба мальчика в нормальной школе - не такой, где учителя махнули на учебный процесс рукой, не в силах преодолеть барьера трехъязычия, и ученики на уроках рисуют цветочки. Хамиту пришлось тяжело, но он выучился и поступил в колледж. И оставил семью, стремясь прочнее интегрироваться в дивный новый мир.
Книга Алис Зенитер о том, как живет и что чувствует дочь и внучка мигрантов во втором поколении. Как трудно сидеть меж двух стульев, когда старая родина отвергла тебя, а новая до конца не приняла. Как страшно, что причислят к исламским террористам, как ненавидишь их за то, что они делают, и как, парадоксально бросаешься на защиту, когда о них - а по сути о тебе подобных и тебе самой - говорят плохо.
Наима совсем француженка, работает в галерее современного искусства и задание шефа выстроить экспозицию алжирского художника воспринимает без энтузиазма. А когда узнает о необходимости поездки на историческую родину, и вовсе приходит в ужас. Там до сих пор убивают и берут в заложники членов семей "уехавших". И все-таки ехать придется.
Сильная, своевременная, интересная книга. Хотя легкой я ее не назвала бы
The way of life until the middle of the last century was completely patriarchal (and it still is). Kabyles were conscripted into the French army and regularly participated in wars, neither the First nor the Second World did not bypass them. But returning to their mountains with orders, they continued the life they had led since childhood. Except for receiving a pension from the occupation government. Everything changes with the heyday of the national liberation movement, when the fighters of the FNL (National Liberation Front) come to the village and explain that taxes now need to be paid to them, and not to the French, that whoever continues to receive a pension is a traitor and, accordingly, we will cut like sheep.
And then everything became bad, so bad that it was impossible to imagine. With the departure of the French, a civil war began, a massacre in which the "henchmen of the occupiers" and their families were threatened with death and there was no one to protect them. And the only way to escape was to jump into the void empty-handed - emigration to a country for which they fought at one time, with which they considered themselves connected, This novel is not the easiest and carefree reading at all. but the story of the escape is downright bleeding pages.
And the filtration camp, in which the native narrators, Naima lived for the next three years, is such a concentrated humiliation. disenfranchisement, the inability to feel like a full-fledged person. And monstrous statistics about the average length of stay of refugees in such camps - more than ten years. Their family was lucky: his father's job at a factory in Normandy, housing, the boy's studies at a normal school - not one where teachers gave up on the educational process, unable to overcome the barrier of trilingualism, and students draw flowers in the classroom. Hamit had a hard time, but he studied and went to college. And he left his family, striving to integrate more firmly into the brave new world.
Alice Zeniter's book is about how the daughter and granddaughter of migrants in the second generation live and feel. How difficult it is to sit between two chairs when the old motherland rejected you, and the new one did not fully accept you. How scary it is to be considered an Islamic terrorist, how you hate them for what they do, and how paradoxically you rush to the defense when they - and in fact, your kind and yourself - are spoken ill of.
Где ты, моя родина?
Говоришь, возвращайся в свой дом?
Я, быть может, вернуться и рада...
Там гадюка живёт под бревном,
И тревожить гадюку не надо.
Ов Сергеева
Что я знала об Алжире? Моя подруга жила там два года в середине семидесятых, когда страна вставала на социалистический путь развития, Аленкины родители, химики, помогали налаживать производство. На фотографиях тех лет она такая золотисто-шоколадная, облитая солнцем. Вспоминает невероятные фрукты, которые могли себе позволить даже советские специалисты, отчаянно экономившие на всем, чтобы привести домой внешторговские чеки. А с местными она там, конечно, не общалась.
Был еще "Посторонний" Камю, помните: рассказчик-француз убивает на пляже араба, но приговаривают его за то, что не плакал на похоронах матери? И... И все. До книги Алис Зенитер я думала, что страна это стабильная и благополучная, в сравнении не только с соседями по материку, но и с большинством Ближневосточных. А проблемы, сопровождавшие крушение колониальной системы, обошли Алжир стороной, - думала.
Нет, никому не было легко, и нигде не обошлось без крови. "Искусство терять" постколониальный роман, рассказывающий историю семьи кабильских берберов. Берберы составляют этническое меньшинство, 17% против 83% арабского населения и живут преимущественно в горных областях. Алжир огромный, вторая по площади африканская страна, там всякие есть ландшафты, не только равнинные, в которых разворачивается действие "Посторонне��о".
Уклад жизни до середины прошлого века был совершенно патриархальным (да он и теперь такой). Кабилы призывались во французскую армию и регулярно участвовали в войнах, ни Первая, ни Вторая Мировые не обошли их стороной. Но возвращаясь в свои горы с орденами они продолжали ту жизнь, какую вели с детства. Разве что получая от оккупационного правительства пенсию. Все изменяется с расцветом национально-освободительного движения, когда бойцы ФНО (Фронта национального освобождения) приходят в деревню и объясняют, что налоги теперь нужно платить им, а не французам, что кто продолжит получать пенсию - тот предатель и соответственно - будем резать как баранов.
А дальше все стало плохо, настолько, что и вообразить нельзя было. С уходом французов началась гражданская война, резня, в которой "прихвостням оккупантов" и их семьям грозила смерть и некому было их защитить. И единственной возможностью спастись стал прыжок в пустоту с пустыми руками - эмиграция в страну, за которую в свое время воевали, с которой считали себя связанными Этот роман вообще не самое легкое и беззаботное чтение. но история бегства - прямо-таки кровоточащие страницы.
А фильтрационный лагерь, в котором родные рассказчицы, Наимы прожили три следующих года, такое концентрированное унижение. бесправие, невозможность ощутить себя полноценным человеком. И чудовищная статистика о среднем сроке пребывания беженцев в таких лагерях - больше десяти лет. Их семье повезло: работа отца на заводе в Нормандии, жилье, учеба мальчика в нормальной школе - не такой, где учителя махнули на учебный процесс рукой, не в силах преодолеть барьера трехъязычия, и ученики на уроках рисуют цветочки. Хамиту пришлось тяжело, но он выучился и поступил в колледж. И оставил семью, стремясь прочнее интегрироваться в дивный новый мир.
Книга Алис Зенитер о том, как живет и что чувствует дочь и внучка мигрантов во втором поколении. Как трудно сидеть меж двух стульев, когда старая родина отвергла тебя, а новая до конца не приняла. Как страшно, что причислят к исламским террористам, как ненавидишь их за то, что они делают, и как, парадоксально бросаешься на защиту, когда о них - а по сути о тебе подобных и тебе самой - говорят плохо.
Наима совсем француженка, работает в галерее современного искусства и задание шефа выстроить экспозицию алжирского художника воспринимает без энтузиазма. А когда узнает о необходимости поездки на историческую родину, и вовсе приходит в ужас. Там до сих пор убивают и берут в заложники членов семей "уехавших". И все-таки ехать придется.
Сильная, своевременная, интересная книга. Хотя легкой я ее не назвала бы
February 10, 2025
Πώς γενιέται μια χώρα; Όπως οτιδήποτε: Μέσα στο αίμα.
Ο μέσος (μη Γάλλος) άνθρωπος ξεχνάει ότι η Γαλλία, μετά την απελευθέρωσή της από τη ναζιστική Γερμανία συνέχισε να λειτουργεί αποικιοκρατικά και να κατέχει απέραντες εκτάσεις της Βορείου Αφρικής, ή «Η ελευθερία είναι κάτι πολύ καλό για να το παραχωρούμε δωρεάν σε λαούς νότια από τη Μεσόγειο».
Η Ναϊμά, τρίτης γενιάς μετανάστις (sic), Γαλλίδα με τα όλα της, μέχρι και με παντρεμένο γκόμενο, είναι αλγερινής καταγωγής και κάνει μια βουτιά στην ιστορία της οικογένειάς της, για την οποία κανείς δεν της μίλησε ποτέ. Για τον παππού της Αλί, που χαρακτηρίστηκε «συνεργάτης των Γάλλων» (πικρή ειρωνεία, μετά από όσα έκαναν οι Γάλλοι στους συνεργάτες των Γερμανών…) και αναγκάστηκε να φύγει από την Αλγερία βιαστικά, στιγματισμένος ως προδότης, για να καταλήξει «ξένος β’ κατηγορίας» στη νέα του χώρα. Για τον πατέρα της που έζησε 3 χρόνια της παιδικής του ηλικίας σε γκέτο τη δεκαετία του ’60.
Και πάνω απ’ όλα ίσως κάνει μια βουτιά στην ίδια της την ταυτότητα, εν μέρει επιλογή και εν μέρει κληρονομιά.
Τρυφερό όπου μπορεί, σκληρό και ρεαλιστικό όπου απαιτείται, το βιβλίο θυμίζει στον Έλληνα αναγνώστη ότι δε ζήσαμε μόνο εμείς τραγωδίες και διχασμούς. Απλώς για κάποιο λόγο, το «οικόπεδο και αποικία Ελλάς» θεωρούσε ότι μιας και βρίσκεται στις βόρειες ακτές της Μεσογείου, χρήζει και διαφορετικής αντιμετώπισης από τους «κραταιούς». Οποία πλάνη και έπαρση.
Πέρα από «οικογενειακή σάγκα» η Τέχνη της Απώλειας είναι οι ωδίνες του τοκετού της Αλγερίας και της ληθαργικής μετάβασης της αλγερινής συνείδησης από τον μετανάστη πρώτης γενιάς στην ενσωματωμένη πλέον ως γαλλίδα μετανάστρια της 3ης, ακόμη κι αν χαρακτηρίζεται «πουτάνα», από συγγενείς που δεν έχουν πατήσει ποτέ πόδι στην «παλιά πατρίδα», επειδή συμπεριφέρεται όπως κάθε άλλη Γαλλίδα. Κάθε γενιά από τις τρεις που αντιπροσωπεύονται στο βιβλίο αντιμετωπίζεται σε διαφορετικό ιστορικό πλαίσιο, και έχει τις δικές της προκλήσεις, πριν υποχωρήσει στο φόντο για να αναδυθεί η επόμενη.
Και, κυρίως, είναι μια όμορφη και ενδιαφέρουσα ιστορία, που διαβάζεται χωρίς να κουράζει. Κάτι σημαντικό στις μέρες μας, μέρες εκδοτικής υπερπαραγωγής ασημαντοτήτων.
Ο μέσος (μη Γάλλος) άνθρωπος ξεχνάει ότι η Γαλλία, μετά την απελευθέρωσή της από τη ναζιστική Γερμανία συνέχισε να λειτουργεί αποικιοκρατικά και να κατέχει απέραντες εκτάσεις της Βορείου Αφρικής, ή «Η ελευθερία είναι κάτι πολύ καλό για να το παραχωρούμε δωρεάν σε λαούς νότια από τη Μεσόγειο».
Η Ναϊμά, τρίτης γενιάς μετανάστις (sic), Γαλλίδα με τα όλα της, μέχρι και με παντρεμένο γκόμενο, είναι αλγερινής καταγωγής και κάνει μια βουτιά στην ιστορία της οικογένειάς της, για την οποία κανείς δεν της μίλησε ποτέ. Για τον παππού της Αλί, που χαρακτηρίστηκε «συνεργάτης των Γάλλων» (πικρή ειρωνεία, μετά από όσα έκαναν οι Γάλλοι στους συνεργάτες των Γερμανών…) και αναγκάστηκε να φύγει από την Αλγερία βιαστικά, στιγματισμένος ως προδότης, για να καταλήξει «ξένος β’ κατηγορίας» στη νέα του χώρα. Για τον πατέρα της που έζησε 3 χρόνια της παιδικής του ηλικίας σε γκέτο τη δεκαετία του ’60.
Και πάνω απ’ όλα ίσως κάνει μια βουτιά στην ίδια της την ταυτότητα, εν μέρει επιλογή και εν μέρει κληρονομιά.
Τρυφερό όπου μπορεί, σκληρό και ρεαλιστικό όπου απαιτείται, το βιβλίο θυμίζει στον Έλληνα αναγνώστη ότι δε ζήσαμε μόνο εμείς τραγωδίες και διχασμούς. Απλώς για κάποιο λόγο, το «οικόπεδο και αποικία Ελλάς» θεωρούσε ότι μιας και βρίσκεται στις βόρειες ακτές της Μεσογείου, χρήζει και διαφορετικής αντιμετώπισης από τους «κραταιούς». Οποία πλάνη και έπαρση.
Πέρα από «οικογενειακή σάγκα» η Τέχνη της Απώλειας είναι οι ωδίνες του τοκετού της Αλγερίας και της ληθαργικής μετάβασης της αλγερινής συνείδησης από τον μετανάστη πρώτης γενιάς στην ενσωματωμένη πλέον ως γαλλίδα μετανάστρια της 3ης, ακόμη κι αν χαρακτηρίζεται «πουτάνα», από συγγενείς που δεν έχουν πατήσει ποτέ πόδι στην «παλιά πατρίδα», επειδή συμπεριφέρεται όπως κάθε άλλη Γαλλίδα. Κάθε γενιά από τις τρεις που αντιπροσωπεύονται στο βιβλίο αντιμετωπίζεται σε διαφορετικό ιστορικό πλαίσιο, και έχει τις δικές της προκλήσεις, πριν υποχωρήσει στο φόντο για να αναδυθεί η επόμενη.
Και, κυρίως, είναι μια όμορφη και ενδιαφέρουσα ιστορία, που διαβάζεται χωρίς να κουράζει. Κάτι σημαντικό στις μέρες μας, μέρες εκδοτικής υπερπαραγωγής ασημαντοτήτων.
May 23, 2022
I was excited to read this from the cover and blurb but actually found it flat, dry, and unengaging, I'm afraid. The book follows a typical structure of a family saga as it explores three generations of an Algerian family who have a complicated relationship with France: themes of colonialism, immigration and integration make this timely but I don't feel that this either says anything original, or says it in an imaginative way.
There's lots of flat 'telling', very little dramatic 'showing', and it's hard to feel anything for the characters as they're so distant - great chunks of exposition make this feel like a historical text rather than a novel. Sorry, but I wanted to engage with the characters face to face: in this book it's like they're behind triple screens of glass.
Verdict: interesting material but not a style of writing or storytelling that works for me. I might check out the original French.
There's lots of flat 'telling', very little dramatic 'showing', and it's hard to feel anything for the characters as they're so distant - great chunks of exposition make this feel like a historical text rather than a novel. Sorry, but I wanted to engage with the characters face to face: in this book it's like they're behind triple screens of glass.
Verdict: interesting material but not a style of writing or storytelling that works for me. I might check out the original French.
September 5, 2020
Al contrario di quanto credessi prima di iniziare la lettura, il titolo di questo libro si riferisce non tanto (o non solo) alla perdita intesa come sconfitta, ma piuttosto all'atto di rinuncia o smarrimento di qualcosa di caro. Rinuncia che la famiglia protagonista del romanzo trasforma in una vera e propria arte, o meglio una filosofia di vita: nel corso di tre generazioni si lascerà infatti alle spalle case, possedimenti, comunità, lingue e soprattutto una patria, l’Algeria.
Un susseguirsi di perdite, questo, non solo sofferto e combattuto ma spesso anche desiderato: perché in un mondo che non accetta contraddizioni e pluralismi, rifiutare una parte scomoda della propria identità può essere rassicurante o addirittura inevitabile. È così per Alì, che rinuncia al ruolo di patriarca autoritario per rassegnarsi ad una vita di sfruttamento e dare—si spera—un futuro migliore ai suoi figli; ed è così anche per suo figlio Hamid, che rigetta le sue radici algerine nel tentativo di integrarsi al meglio nella sua patria d’adozione. Il ciclo delle perdite però si può interrompere, e Naïma è decisa a farlo: anche se suo padre non le ha insegnato l’arabo e non le ha raccontato nulla della sua infanzia, infatti, lei si sente algerina; ma come si può appartenere ad un paese di cui non si conosce quasi nulla?
È per rispondere a questa domanda che la ragazza inizia un viaggio a ritroso, dalla Parigi dei giorni nostri fino alla Cabilia degli anni Cinquanta, volto a ricostruire la travagliata storia dei suoi nonni, genitori e zii.
In un percorso a fortune alterne, la famiglia attraversa settant’anni di storia della Francia coloniale e post-coloniale, riuscendo con meticolosa precisione a trovarsi sempre dalla parte sbagliata di ogni conflitto. Bollati prima come traditori della patria, poi come immigrati indesiderati e infine come potenziali terroristi, i familiari di Naïma sopravvivono tenacemente ad ogni rivoluzione e cambio di governo, determinati a preservare, se non la propria integrità culturale, almeno quella fisica.
Tra fughe, complotti, grandi amori e segreti inconfessabili, tre generazioni di immigrati senza patria si susseguono in un’eterna lotta contro una società impietosa e assolutista, la cui storia viene sempre scritta (e riscritta) dai vincitori. L’arte di perdere è un romanzo potente e necessario, non solo perché riporta alla luce pagine dimenticate del Novecento, ma soprattutto per il modo onesto e ficcante in cui descrive i drammi interiori degli europei di seconda generazione.
Un susseguirsi di perdite, questo, non solo sofferto e combattuto ma spesso anche desiderato: perché in un mondo che non accetta contraddizioni e pluralismi, rifiutare una parte scomoda della propria identità può essere rassicurante o addirittura inevitabile. È così per Alì, che rinuncia al ruolo di patriarca autoritario per rassegnarsi ad una vita di sfruttamento e dare—si spera—un futuro migliore ai suoi figli; ed è così anche per suo figlio Hamid, che rigetta le sue radici algerine nel tentativo di integrarsi al meglio nella sua patria d’adozione. Il ciclo delle perdite però si può interrompere, e Naïma è decisa a farlo: anche se suo padre non le ha insegnato l’arabo e non le ha raccontato nulla della sua infanzia, infatti, lei si sente algerina; ma come si può appartenere ad un paese di cui non si conosce quasi nulla?
È per rispondere a questa domanda che la ragazza inizia un viaggio a ritroso, dalla Parigi dei giorni nostri fino alla Cabilia degli anni Cinquanta, volto a ricostruire la travagliata storia dei suoi nonni, genitori e zii.
In un percorso a fortune alterne, la famiglia attraversa settant’anni di storia della Francia coloniale e post-coloniale, riuscendo con meticolosa precisione a trovarsi sempre dalla parte sbagliata di ogni conflitto. Bollati prima come traditori della patria, poi come immigrati indesiderati e infine come potenziali terroristi, i familiari di Naïma sopravvivono tenacemente ad ogni rivoluzione e cambio di governo, determinati a preservare, se non la propria integrità culturale, almeno quella fisica.
Tra fughe, complotti, grandi amori e segreti inconfessabili, tre generazioni di immigrati senza patria si susseguono in un’eterna lotta contro una società impietosa e assolutista, la cui storia viene sempre scritta (e riscritta) dai vincitori. L’arte di perdere è un romanzo potente e necessario, non solo perché riporta alla luce pagine dimenticate del Novecento, ma soprattutto per il modo onesto e ficcante in cui descrive i drammi interiori degli europei di seconda generazione.
August 23, 2018
J’ai adoré cette lecture et je suis totalement ravie d’avoir pu découvrir Alice Zeniter ! Très bien écrit et pertinent.
May 23, 2022
"How is a country born? And who brings it into the world?
In certain parts of Kabylia, there is a folk tradition some call 'the sleeping child.' It explains how a woman can give birth even though her husband has been gone for years: according to tradition, having been fathered by the husband, the child then dozes off in the womb and does not emerge until much later.
Algeria is like that sleeping child: it was conceived long ago, so long ago that no one can agree on a date, and for years it slept, until the spring of 1962."
The Art of Losing is a multigenerational family saga done right.
What is immediately apparent about Zeniter's novel is just how extraordinarily well-written it is. Its writing is not flowery or ornate, but it is so refreshingly and psychologically perceptive. More than anything, I think it really speaks to the level of insight that Zeniter has when it comes to her characters and the way they view their respective worlds. That is to say, Zeniter's writing is striking because she is able to recognize and home in on what it is that's striking about her characters and their milieux: the ways in which these milieux inform each other, refracted and reflected over the generations. Beyond this, Zeniter just has a remarkable facility with figurative language; her language is economic yet poetic, direct yet evocative.
"This is the reason why - to Naïma and to me - this part of the story seems like a series of quaint photographs (the oil press, the donkey, the mountain ridge, the burnouses, the olive groves, the floodwaters, the white houses clinging like ticks to steep slopes dotted with rocks and cedar trees) punctuated by proverbs; like picture postcards of Algeria that the old man might have slipped, here and there, into his infrequent accounts, which his children then retold, changing a few words here and there, and which his grandchildren's imaginations later embroidered, extrapolated and redrew, so they could create a country and a history for their family."
More than the writing, I think the biggest strength of The Art of Losing is not just the way it presents three complex and interesting characters representing three different generations of a family, but also the way that it is able to interweave insights and experiences from those generations throughout the novel. We get three different sections in this novel, pertaining to these three different generations: there is Ali, who is the patriarch of his family in Algeria; then Hamid, who is Ali's eldest son, and who comes of age in France after spending his childhood in Algeria; and then Naïma, who is Hamid's daughter, and who was born and raised in France. Each of these characters is nuanced and compelling in their own right, and each presents different issues pertaining to their own particular social and political environments.
As a patriarch who bears responsibility for his immediate and extended family, Ali is under immense pressure, and this means that he has to make some very difficult decisions to protect his family during the Algerian war for independence. In his perspective, we learn about his relationship to and feelings towards the French colonialists in Algeria, as well as the ways in which his sense of self becomes threatened when his position as a patriarch becomes destabilized and ultimately undermined. At the forefront of this section is a portrayal of French colonialism in Algeria, of the violence of war, and of the difficulty of "picking a side" when neither side can ever guarantee you safety or prosperity or, indeed, anything at all.
"For his part, Ali believes History has already been written, and, as it advances, is simply unfurled and revealed. All the actions her performs are not opportunities for change, but for revelation. Mektoub: 'it is written.' He does not know quite where: in the clouds, perhaps, in the lines on his hand, in miniscule characters inside his body, perhaps in the eye of God."
Then we get Hamid's perspective, which I personally found the most interesting. Having been traumatized from his childhood experiences during the Algerian war, Hamid arrives in France with no knowledge of how to speak, read, or write the French language. Through him, we explore what it's like to bear two (seemingly contradictory) cultural identities--to be both Algerian and French--and to try to navigate these identities in his familial, social, academic, and romantic lives. We also become increasingly aware of the rift that grows between him and his family, the amount of pressure he is under as the eldest son for whom the family has sacrificed a lot, and from whom a lot is expected.
Finally, we have Naïma, a character who, though she "has roots" in Algeria, struggles to understand what that exactly means to her. Naïma wants to understand her heritage, but she is constantly shut out from it; it is not something her father, Hamid, wants to discuss. And so in her perspective we delve into how she comes to terms with this: how she must do her own research to learn more about Algeria, how she tries to reconcile fragmented and scattered accounts of her family with the history she is able to gather through various secondary sources. We also get a lot about how Naïma 's Algerian heritage relates to her identity, how the way her identity is perceived and the way she herself perceives it both force her to continually interrogate her place in French society.
"From this point there will be no more vignettes, no more brightly colored images that have faded over time to the sepia of nostalgia. From here on, they have been replaced by the twisted shards that have resurfaced in Hamid's memory, refashioned by years of silence and turbulent dreams, by snippets of information Ali has let slip only to contradict, when asked, what he has said, by snatches of stories that no one can have witnessed and which sound like images from war movies. And between these slivers - like caulk, like plaster oozing between the cracks, like the silver coins melted in the mountains to create settings for coral trinkets, some as large as a palm - there is Naïma's research, begun more than sixty years after they have left Algeria, which attempts to give some shape, some structure to something that has none, that perhaps never had."
Zeniter is so precise in the way that she unravels all these characters' experiences for us, and so what we get in the end is a novel that feels so richly populated by its characters' inner lives. It's a novel about the generations of a family, and it really feels like what Zeniter has portrayed here is a family, one whose members are interconnected in many ways yet broken apart in others; one with a history that feels substantial and real, with all the gaps and fragments and myths that constitute any family's cumulative and growing history. It's a very self-aware novel in this way: it calls attention to gaps in the story, to dramatic ironies, to knowledge that the characters are not privy to but that the narrator nevertheless knows and weaves into the story.
That being said, I think the reason why this novel didn't get a higher rating from me is that its writing relies more on narration and less on letting us see events unfold as they're happening. It wasn't so much a matter of telling rather than showing, but moreso that because we spend a lot of time learning about what happened through these characters' retrospective accounts, we don't get as many scenes that just feature characters talking to each other in the moment and, by extension, highlighting the dynamics they have with other characters.
Regardless, The Art of Losing was just an excellent novel. To me, it did what The Parisian failed to do: it combined the personal and the historical such that neither one undermined the other--and it did so in a way that really resonated with me. (If you enjoyed this novel, I also highly recommend Négar Djavadi's Disoriental , another novel that's very similar to this one except that it focuses on Iran instead of Algeria.) I honestly haven't heard many people talk about this book, so if you love multigenerational family sagas, I can't recommend this one enough.
July 31, 2025
Wspaniała saga rodzinna, opowiada o trzech pokoleniach, nieoczywista, pełna niuansów. Dotyka tematów kolonianych, uchodźtwa, wojny, relacji rodzinnych - to się wydają pompatyczne tematy, ale zwykłe życie się toczy mimo wielkiej historii pisanej z perspektywy zwycięzców i o tym jest ta saga.
Jakbym miała do czegoś porównać to jest równie dobra jak Pachinko.
Jakbym miała do czegoś porównać to jest równie dobra jak Pachinko.
April 18, 2020
Εύκολη και γρήγορη ανάγνωση παρότι τις 600+ σελίδες του . Κύριο θέμα ο πόλεμος ανεξαρτησίας της Αλγέριας και οι προεκτάσεις του ( εθνικισμός , προδοσία , εμφύλιος , αναγκαστική μετανάστευση - ένα είδος προσφυγιάς Αλγερινών στη Γαλλία - το μέλλον των Αλγερινών στην Γαλλία , ο ρατσισμός κλπ ) . Έμαθα πράγματα τα οποία δεν γνώριζα και μου κράτησε το ενδιαφέρον αμείωτο . Η αφήγηση της Alice Zeniter πράγματι γοητευτική όπως λέει και το οπισθόφυλλο . Εντόπισα δύο αδύνατα σημεία όμως . Θα μπορούσε σίγουρα να είναι 200 σελίδες λιγότερες - πράγμα που εμένα δεν με πείραξε βέβαια , σε αυτό το timing τουλάχιστον - και δεύτερον ένιωσα ότι ακροβατεί μεταξύ επιφανειακών στοιχείων και ουσίας . Το προτείνω σαν βιβλίο αλλά νομίζω ότι ίσως ένας αναγνώστης που ψάχνει πιο πολλά να του αφήσει μια γλυκόπικρη γεύση .
Απόσπασμα που μου άρεσε πολύ γιατί ήθελα να το δω γραμμένο όσο το διάβαζα:
[ - Ο ρατσισμός είναι μια χοντρή ηλιθιότητα , μουγκρίζει ο Λαλλά απευθυνόμενος στη σύντροφό του . Είναι η παρηκμασμένη και χυδαία μορφή της πάλης των τάξεων . Είναι το βλακωδες αδιέξοδο της εξέγερσης [ ... ] Κάνεις δεν θέλει πια να μιλάει για την πάλη των τάξεων επειδή δεν είναι σέξι . Και εν είδη νεωτερικότητας , πολιτικής γκλαμουριας , τι σας πρότειναν - και το χειρότερο τι δεχτηκατε ; Την επιστροφή στο εθνοτικό . Το ζήτημα των κοινοτήτων στη θέση του ζητήματος των τάξεων . ]
Απόσπασμα που μου άρεσε πολύ γιατί ήθελα να το δω γραμμένο όσο το διάβαζα:
[ - Ο ρατσισμός είναι μια χοντρή ηλιθιότητα , μουγκρίζει ο Λαλλά απευθυνόμενος στη σύντροφό του . Είναι η παρηκμασμένη και χυδαία μορφή της πάλης των τάξεων . Είναι το βλακωδες αδιέξοδο της εξέγερσης [ ... ] Κάνεις δεν θέλει πια να μιλάει για την πάλη των τάξεων επειδή δεν είναι σέξι . Και εν είδη νεωτερικότητας , πολιτικής γκλαμουριας , τι σας πρότειναν - και το χειρότερο τι δεχτηκατε ; Την επιστροφή στο εθνοτικό . Το ζήτημα των κοινοτήτων στη θέση του ζητήματος των τάξεων . ]
August 28, 2019
Some sections of really great writing, but in general, I found "The Art of Losing" to be slow and unengaging. It took me forever to get through this one. I think the main problem stems from the narrator, who feels too distant and removed and cold so that you don't really ever feel for the characters or become engaged in their story.
January 12, 2019
Nuova terra, stesso cielo
Cabilia, Lakhdaria, Algeria. Francia provenzale, Normandia, Parigi. Tre parti: Alì, Hamid, Naïma. Il tempo scorre da Montecassino al decennio nero, dal contesto fratricida all'indipendenza del 1962, poi con un salto verso i giorni recenti. La coppia Alì e Yema, i nonni, hanno dieci figli, e trovano la fortuna nei frutti dell'ulivo sul suolo berbero; soldato in guerra con la Francia, Alì teme la violenza dei rivoluzionari e sceglie di restare dalla parte per cui ha combattuto, diventando un harki, sinonimo di traditore, nella realtà clanica e tribale della guerra civile. Quando è il momento, emigra in Francia (centomila algerini hanno compiuto quel viaggio). Il piccolo Hamid si trova in un campo d'accoglienza, sopravvive, si disegna un nuovo destino, segue il suo personale maktoub. I familiari restano in Algeria, ma le terre vengono loro sottratte. Alì vivrà con la fede facendo l'operaio. Hamid è sveglio, svolge diversi lavori, si integra, parla a malapena l'arabo (solo con le donne) e con il francese studia e si fa strada, verso un'identità, trovando lavoro e incontrando Clarissa, l'amore di una vita, una donna coraggiosa e spirituale, con la quale mette al mondo quattro sorelle, tra le quali Naïma. Naïma è una giovane donna concreta e nobile e si occupa di arte; si dedica a un pittore di cultura amazigh per una retrospettiva e parte per l'Algeria alla ricerca dei suoi lavori, ma deve fare in fretta, perché lui non ha tempo, è molto malato. Il viaggio di Naïma sulle tracce dell'artista trova un senso di umanità e scoperta di sé in un villaggio tra le montagne, dove vivono unite donne, bambini e uomini, imparando a convivere con le contrarietà, stringendosi in fraternità per non essere annientati, guardando oltre il disastro sul crinale che divide tragedia e semplicità, per un'altra possibile meraviglia, uno splendore triste ma naturale. Tra microstoria e genealogia affettiva, Zeniter scrive molto bene, con uno stile sicuro e denso, e coinvolge il lettore in una narrazione impegnata e sincera e racconta con intelligenza tenace e intima immedesimazione una storia che ha qualcosa di essenziale da comunicare.
Cabilia, Lakhdaria, Algeria. Francia provenzale, Normandia, Parigi. Tre parti: Alì, Hamid, Naïma. Il tempo scorre da Montecassino al decennio nero, dal contesto fratricida all'indipendenza del 1962, poi con un salto verso i giorni recenti. La coppia Alì e Yema, i nonni, hanno dieci figli, e trovano la fortuna nei frutti dell'ulivo sul suolo berbero; soldato in guerra con la Francia, Alì teme la violenza dei rivoluzionari e sceglie di restare dalla parte per cui ha combattuto, diventando un harki, sinonimo di traditore, nella realtà clanica e tribale della guerra civile. Quando è il momento, emigra in Francia (centomila algerini hanno compiuto quel viaggio). Il piccolo Hamid si trova in un campo d'accoglienza, sopravvive, si disegna un nuovo destino, segue il suo personale maktoub. I familiari restano in Algeria, ma le terre vengono loro sottratte. Alì vivrà con la fede facendo l'operaio. Hamid è sveglio, svolge diversi lavori, si integra, parla a malapena l'arabo (solo con le donne) e con il francese studia e si fa strada, verso un'identità, trovando lavoro e incontrando Clarissa, l'amore di una vita, una donna coraggiosa e spirituale, con la quale mette al mondo quattro sorelle, tra le quali Naïma. Naïma è una giovane donna concreta e nobile e si occupa di arte; si dedica a un pittore di cultura amazigh per una retrospettiva e parte per l'Algeria alla ricerca dei suoi lavori, ma deve fare in fretta, perché lui non ha tempo, è molto malato. Il viaggio di Naïma sulle tracce dell'artista trova un senso di umanità e scoperta di sé in un villaggio tra le montagne, dove vivono unite donne, bambini e uomini, imparando a convivere con le contrarietà, stringendosi in fraternità per non essere annientati, guardando oltre il disastro sul crinale che divide tragedia e semplicità, per un'altra possibile meraviglia, uno splendore triste ma naturale. Tra microstoria e genealogia affettiva, Zeniter scrive molto bene, con uno stile sicuro e denso, e coinvolge il lettore in una narrazione impegnata e sincera e racconta con intelligenza tenace e intima immedesimazione una storia che ha qualcosa di essenziale da comunicare.
March 12, 2025
Le silence en héritage, la volonté de transmettre.
Grâce à cette fresque familiale sur trois générations, Alice Zeniter réussit le petit exploit, non pas de brosser un portait complet de l'Algérie sur 70 ans, mais d'en sonder suffisamment d'aspects et d'asperités pour en faire un grand roman.
D'une narration implacable et accessible à tous, le livre se dévore peu importe les années abordées. En partant des "troubles" pour arriver aux attentats de Paris, Naïma, le personnage principal, se lance dans l'écriture de l'histoire de sa famille. Pleine de creux, d'absences et silences, elle fouille pour pouvoir les combler : qui était ce grand-père harki qui n'a jamais pu lui raconter son Algerie ? Pourquoi son père refuse d'en parler et interdit la famille d'y aller ? Et enfin, pourquoi se sent-elle si peu algérienne tout en voulant à tout prix le devenir ?
Certes la lecture se fait sans éclat, l'autrice n'use et n'abuse pas de figures de styles alambiquées, les crêtes kabyles restent dans le paysage et ne viennent pas teindre l'écriture du roman mais c'est cette facilité apparente qui m'a plu. Ces gestes du quotidiens que font tour à tour les personnages, leurs réflexions sur leur vie en Algerie, puis dans les camps de réfugiés, puis dans les HLM et enfin à Paris, leur propre regard sur leur condition servent le texte. Chacun peut y voir ce que l'autrice a à nous révéler et permet une excellente compréhension du texte.
Malgré une troisième partie qui m'a moins convaincue que les deux premières tant il est difficile de mêler l'Histoire à l'hyper actualité, j'ai trouvé que le roman était excellent et je suis ravi que tant de lycéens aient pu le lire (et lui décerner ce prix Goncourt des lycéens). Je n'en suis d'ailleurs pas étonné.
Grâce à cette fresque familiale sur trois générations, Alice Zeniter réussit le petit exploit, non pas de brosser un portait complet de l'Algérie sur 70 ans, mais d'en sonder suffisamment d'aspects et d'asperités pour en faire un grand roman.
D'une narration implacable et accessible à tous, le livre se dévore peu importe les années abordées. En partant des "troubles" pour arriver aux attentats de Paris, Naïma, le personnage principal, se lance dans l'écriture de l'histoire de sa famille. Pleine de creux, d'absences et silences, elle fouille pour pouvoir les combler : qui était ce grand-père harki qui n'a jamais pu lui raconter son Algerie ? Pourquoi son père refuse d'en parler et interdit la famille d'y aller ? Et enfin, pourquoi se sent-elle si peu algérienne tout en voulant à tout prix le devenir ?
Certes la lecture se fait sans éclat, l'autrice n'use et n'abuse pas de figures de styles alambiquées, les crêtes kabyles restent dans le paysage et ne viennent pas teindre l'écriture du roman mais c'est cette facilité apparente qui m'a plu. Ces gestes du quotidiens que font tour à tour les personnages, leurs réflexions sur leur vie en Algerie, puis dans les camps de réfugiés, puis dans les HLM et enfin à Paris, leur propre regard sur leur condition servent le texte. Chacun peut y voir ce que l'autrice a à nous révéler et permet une excellente compréhension du texte.
Malgré une troisième partie qui m'a moins convaincue que les deux premières tant il est difficile de mêler l'Histoire à l'hyper actualité, j'ai trouvé que le roman était excellent et je suis ravi que tant de lycéens aient pu le lire (et lui décerner ce prix Goncourt des lycéens). Je n'en suis d'ailleurs pas étonné.
September 23, 2023
Ah bu ne güzel bir romandı böyle. Uzun zamandır böyle zamana yayılan bir aile romanı okumamıştım. Çok iyi geldi, özlemişim. Kaybetme Sanatı, Cezayirli bir ailenin hikâyesini üç kuşak üzerinden anlatıyor. Dede Ali, oğul Hamza ve Hamza'nın kızı Naima... Cezayir savaşını, Fransa'ya göçmek zorunda kalmalarını, ne Fransız ne Cezayirli olmalarını dinliyoruz aslında. Yazar tıpkı bir arkeolog gibi katmanları özenle, ince ince açıyor. Her karakterle ayrı ayrı bağ kurmamızı, dönemin dinamiklerini iyi anlamamızı sağlıyor. Bunu bir tarih kitabı sıkıcılığında anlatmaktansa sizi o sıcak Cezayir'e elinizden tutup götürür gibi yapıyor. Yan karakterler de dahil herkesi iyi tanımanızı istiyor. Ne ajitasyon yapıyor ne de buzlu bir cam çekip mesafe koymanıza neden oluyor. Bilmiyorum daha nasıl övebilirim ama çok sevdim. Kadın olmak, göçmen olmak, kimlik meselesi, dil ve iletişim, din ve inanç neredeyse yaşama dair her şeyi bulmak mümkün bu romanda. Bence yakında daha popüler olacak ve daha çok okunacak bu güzel roman. Kalınlığı korkutmasın su gibi akıyor.
October 8, 2023
bitti. sevmeme, hatta bir noktadan sonra çok sevmeme rağmen bu kadar uzun sürede okuyuşumu kendi küçük göç hikâyemle kitaptaki büyük göç hikâyesinin aynı zamana denk gelmesi ve bu iki hikâyenin benzeştiği yerlerin beni biraz yavaşlatmasına, durup düşündürmesine bağlıyorum. kaybetme sanatı göçle, kimlikle, aidiyetle ilgili bir kitap. bağların yüklere dönüşmesini, kimliğin hükmünü yitirmesini anlatıyor üç kuşağın cezayir-fransa hattında yaşadıklarıyla. ilk kuşağı ali'den, ikinci kuşağı hamid'den, üçüncü kuşağı ise naïma'dan okuyoruz. ali'nin fransa'yla minnet ve nefret dolu ilişkisi, hamid'in cezayir'le tüm anıları kaçış sürecinden oluşan travmatize olmuş bağı ve öteki yakasındaki o "gitmesek de görmesek de" ülkesiyle fransa arasında akdeniz'in hem sınır hem köprü olduğu naïma'nın yolculuğu. o kadar güzel anlatılmış, çok kısa yer tutan karakterlerin öyküleri bile öyle detaylarla aktarılmıştı ki kitap bir beş yüz küsur sayfa daha olsa yine okuturdu herhalde. cezayir ve fransa arasında olup bitenler benim çok yüzeysel ve pek çok açıdan yalan yanlış bildiğim şeylermiş, bunu da kitabı okurken öğrendim. 347-356 arasındaki bölüm çok ağlattı beni, yazarın da yazarken ağladığı yönünde bir sezim oluştu, bilmiyorum tabii. göçe dair anlatılar, hele üçüncü kuşaktan itibaren yazılıp çizilenlerin (ve sahnelenenler de elbette) tadı bambaşka benim için. naïma'nın da dediği gibi, "biri sustuğu zaman, diğerleri onunla ilgili olarak daima ve neredeyse her seferinde yanılıyorlar." o yüzden göçü, aidiyeti dert edenler iyi ki yazıyor böyle. berberi dilinden bu şarkıyla bitireyim: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YysBI...
March 29, 2025
Kaybetme Sanatı, yalnızca bir göç hikâyesi değil, nesiller boyunca süren bir kimlik ve aidiyet sancısının romanı. Ali, Cezayir Bağımsızlık Savaşı’nda yanlış tarafta kaldığı için ülkesinden kaçmak zorunda kalıyor. Fransa’ya sığınan ailesi, mülteci kamplarında hayatta kalmaya çalışırken oğlu Hamid geçmişi inkâr etmeyi seçiyor. Ama inkâr etmek geçmişi silmeye yetmiyor. Hamid’in kızı Naïma, yıllar sonra ailesinin sustuğu hikâyeyi anlamaya çalışırken, Cezayir’le hiç temas etmemiş olmasına rağmen oranın izlerini ruhunda taşıdığını fark ediyor.Alice Zeniter, bir insanın yalnızca fiziksel olarak değil, zihinsel ve duygusal olarak da nasıl sürgünde yaşayabileceğini anlatıyor aslında. Göçmenlik burada bir olgu değil bir kader gibi. Unutmak ve sahiplenmek arasındaki o sancılı gelgitleri, bireyin kendi geçmişine yabancılaşmasını o kadar güçlü işleniyor ki, kitabı bitirdiğinizde bu hikâyeyi yaşamış gibi hissediyorsunuz. Büyük tarih anlatılarıyla bireysel hikâyelerin iç içe geçtiği, her cümlesi dolu dolu çarpıcı bir roman. Kötü bir ruh haliyle okumama rağmen çok ama çok beğendim.
February 16, 2023
Three generations of a family, beginning with Ali, born in a mountain village of the Kabyle region of northern Algeria, his son Hamid, also born there but whisked away to France with his parents in 1962 when threats and violence arrived in the village, endangering their lives - to Naima, born in France - the one who seeks the answers to questions about who they are, why they had to leave and the stigma that surrounds their identity.
Written in 3 parts, each one is a total immersion in that era and life, showing how swiftly families change when they cross into another culture, how foreign they become to their own, how important it is to heal the wounds of the past, to acknowledge, understand and have tolerance for differences; how fear passes down ancestral lines, how connection is important.
On discovering her father and therefore her family are referred to as harki, Naima sets out to discover what exactly this means and what her grandfather and others like him might have done to be so distrusted by their own. Despised at home and unwelcome in the country that has given them citizenship due to their efforts and support during WW2.
The path to acceptance is a lonely road and an almost impossible one without losing one's identity completely; however something must be let go, given up and each successive generation moves further away from their roots, knowing less and less about who they were.
Naima's investigation into her grandfather Ali's past, reminds us of others who joined the cause to fight in WW2, of the Battle of Monte Cassino, in Italy, where he fought and as a consequence, for defending France, for being a war veteran, became perceived by many in his own country as a traitor.
As I read about this, I had to stop and go and check a few of my own ancestral documents and sure enough, my grandfather too fought in the Battle of Monte Cassino, a raw subject he never talked of, had nightmares about for years and lost his best friend there. In his division alone 1,600 lost their lives.
The Art of Losing brilliantly portrays these lives over three generations to bring Algerian history alive in a way that is rare to come across. Though there is a depth of research behind it, the pace never slows, in the hands of this storyteller, artfully using her characters, their relationships and circumstances to present an historical perspective and explain why sometimes silence and burying ones pain seem like the only way to survive, to manage disappointment. But then successive generations are challenged in relationships to break old patterns and heal wounds they may have inherited without even knowing the cause.
The novel ends with a retrospective art exhibition of a man Lalla, named in homage to Lalla Fatma N'Soumer(1830-1863) a Kabylan leader of resistance against the French, an Algerian Joan of Arc.
The original French version l'art de perdre was published in 2017, the English translation in 2021, and in Sept 2021 the French president Emmanuel Macron, made an official apology and asked for forgiveness for the French treatment of Algerian Harki fighters, for abandoning them during their home country's war of independence.
Trapped in Algeria, many were massacred as the country's new leaders took brutal revenge.
Thousand of others were placed in camps in France, often with their families, in degrading and traumatising conditions.
Full review on my blog here at Word by Word
Written in 3 parts, each one is a total immersion in that era and life, showing how swiftly families change when they cross into another culture, how foreign they become to their own, how important it is to heal the wounds of the past, to acknowledge, understand and have tolerance for differences; how fear passes down ancestral lines, how connection is important.
On discovering her father and therefore her family are referred to as harki, Naima sets out to discover what exactly this means and what her grandfather and others like him might have done to be so distrusted by their own. Despised at home and unwelcome in the country that has given them citizenship due to their efforts and support during WW2.
The path to acceptance is a lonely road and an almost impossible one without losing one's identity completely; however something must be let go, given up and each successive generation moves further away from their roots, knowing less and less about who they were.
Naima's investigation into her grandfather Ali's past, reminds us of others who joined the cause to fight in WW2, of the Battle of Monte Cassino, in Italy, where he fought and as a consequence, for defending France, for being a war veteran, became perceived by many in his own country as a traitor.
As I read about this, I had to stop and go and check a few of my own ancestral documents and sure enough, my grandfather too fought in the Battle of Monte Cassino, a raw subject he never talked of, had nightmares about for years and lost his best friend there. In his division alone 1,600 lost their lives.
The Art of Losing brilliantly portrays these lives over three generations to bring Algerian history alive in a way that is rare to come across. Though there is a depth of research behind it, the pace never slows, in the hands of this storyteller, artfully using her characters, their relationships and circumstances to present an historical perspective and explain why sometimes silence and burying ones pain seem like the only way to survive, to manage disappointment. But then successive generations are challenged in relationships to break old patterns and heal wounds they may have inherited without even knowing the cause.
The novel ends with a retrospective art exhibition of a man Lalla, named in homage to Lalla Fatma N'Soumer(1830-1863) a Kabylan leader of resistance against the French, an Algerian Joan of Arc.
History is written by the victors, Naima thinks as she drifts off to sleep. This is an established fact, it is what makes it possible for history to exist in only one version. But when the vanquished refuse to admit defeat, when, despite their defeat, they continue writing their own version of history right up to the last second, when the victors for their part, write their history retrospectively to show the inevitability of their victory, then the contradictory versions on either side of the Mediterranean seem less like history than justifications or rationalizations sprinkled with dates and dressed up as history.
Perhaps that is what kept former residents of Bias so close to the camp they loathed; the could not bring themselves to break up a community that had reached an agreement on the version of history that suited them. Perhaps this is a foundation of communal life that is too often overlooked yet absolutely essential.
The original French version l'art de perdre was published in 2017, the English translation in 2021, and in Sept 2021 the French president Emmanuel Macron, made an official apology and asked for forgiveness for the French treatment of Algerian Harki fighters, for abandoning them during their home country's war of independence.
Trapped in Algeria, many were massacred as the country's new leaders took brutal revenge.
Thousand of others were placed in camps in France, often with their families, in degrading and traumatising conditions.
Full review on my blog here at Word by Word
March 13, 2024
Un vrai coup de cœur.
Je ne peux que recommander ce livre, très bien écrit, même si un peu dense parfois, à tous ceux qui s'intéressent a l'Algérie, aux racines et au fait de trouver sa place.
Je ne peux que recommander ce livre, très bien écrit, même si un peu dense parfois, à tous ceux qui s'intéressent a l'Algérie, aux racines et au fait de trouver sa place.
September 16, 2023
مراجعة مصورة للرواية في دودة كتب
روايات بتكلم بعض | سؤال الهوية #١ | Writing about Identity
https://youtu.be/r-vNTNjmTMY
روايات بتكلم بعض | سؤال الهوية #١ | Writing about Identity
https://youtu.be/r-vNTNjmTMY
November 20, 2023
‘İki şehir kaybettim, iki güzel şehir. Topraklarım vardı uçsuz bucaksız, iki nehrim, varlığım koca bir kıtaydı.
Arıyorum hepsini. Ama bir felaket sayılmaz kaybolmaları.’
.
Elizabet Bishop’ın One Art adlı şiirinden bu dizeler sizi tam da Alice Zeniter’in kaybedilenleri anlattığı eserine götürüyor. 1962 yılında Cezayir’den Fransa’ya göç eden bir ailenin dününe, bugününe ve muhtemel yarınına.
1830’da başlıyor hikaye, Fransa’nın Cezayir’e gelişiyle, ve onlarca yıl sürüyor.
.
Göç, azınlıklar, aidiyet ve köksüzlük gibi büyük büyük başlıkların her birine ustalıkla değiniyor Zeniter, hatta yan başlıklar da açıyor her karakteriyle: Yema’yla kadınlığı düşünüyoruz, Ali ile gururu, Hamid ile unutmanın dayanılmaz ağırlığını. Ve Zeniter iki ülkenin arasındaki uzun geçmişi anlatırken kendi topraklarında hain olarak adlandırılan (harki) bir aileyi anlatmayı seçiyor. Bu seçim, anlatılan her şeyin iki tarafını da dinlememiz için bir şans oluyor.
Kimseye tam anlamıyla kızamıyoruz.
Cezayir’de hain, Fransa’da Cezayirli olan o aileyi ilmek ilmek oluşturuyoruz zihnimizde. Engin zeytin bahçelerinden dört duvar bir fabrikanın çarklarına dalıp gitmenin nasıl olacağını düşünüyoruz, kendi anne babasının dilini konuşamamanın ne demek olabiliceğini de…
Kurgusuyla, her bir karaktere hak verebileceğim yansızlığıyla, savaşların-işgallerin acımasız soğukluğunu iliklerime kadar hissetmemi sağlayışıyla çok sevdim Kaybetme Sanatı’nı.
Dilerim herkes okusun, dilerim kitaptaki her bir duyguyu sadece izlemeyi değil anlayabilmemize de aracı olsun.
.
Şirin Erkan Leitao enfes çevirisiyle~
Arıyorum hepsini. Ama bir felaket sayılmaz kaybolmaları.’
.
Elizabet Bishop’ın One Art adlı şiirinden bu dizeler sizi tam da Alice Zeniter’in kaybedilenleri anlattığı eserine götürüyor. 1962 yılında Cezayir’den Fransa’ya göç eden bir ailenin dününe, bugününe ve muhtemel yarınına.
1830’da başlıyor hikaye, Fransa’nın Cezayir’e gelişiyle, ve onlarca yıl sürüyor.
.
Göç, azınlıklar, aidiyet ve köksüzlük gibi büyük büyük başlıkların her birine ustalıkla değiniyor Zeniter, hatta yan başlıklar da açıyor her karakteriyle: Yema’yla kadınlığı düşünüyoruz, Ali ile gururu, Hamid ile unutmanın dayanılmaz ağırlığını. Ve Zeniter iki ülkenin arasındaki uzun geçmişi anlatırken kendi topraklarında hain olarak adlandırılan (harki) bir aileyi anlatmayı seçiyor. Bu seçim, anlatılan her şeyin iki tarafını da dinlememiz için bir şans oluyor.
Kimseye tam anlamıyla kızamıyoruz.
Cezayir’de hain, Fransa’da Cezayirli olan o aileyi ilmek ilmek oluşturuyoruz zihnimizde. Engin zeytin bahçelerinden dört duvar bir fabrikanın çarklarına dalıp gitmenin nasıl olacağını düşünüyoruz, kendi anne babasının dilini konuşamamanın ne demek olabiliceğini de…
Kurgusuyla, her bir karaktere hak verebileceğim yansızlığıyla, savaşların-işgallerin acımasız soğukluğunu iliklerime kadar hissetmemi sağlayışıyla çok sevdim Kaybetme Sanatı’nı.
Dilerim herkes okusun, dilerim kitaptaki her bir duyguyu sadece izlemeyi değil anlayabilmemize de aracı olsun.
.
Şirin Erkan Leitao enfes çevirisiyle~
May 12, 2019
I was a bit hesitant to pick this up because in the past, French literature and I have not been the best of friends. Sure, I've read some, but never really liked anything (more like, usually disliked what I've made myself read). But this book, oh my. I wanted to devour it all at once and savor it for as long as I could.
This novel tells the story of three generations, from Algeria to France. From being someone important and respected to being someone looked down upon to being someone who's there but people don't really know what to think of them - nor do they themselves know. This is a story about war and finding peace, a story about finding oneself, a story about cultures, a story about immigration, a story about art.
While this was for the most part a story about men and how they've lived through the years, I was pleased that the women were also fleshed out, they had a story - at least Naïma. I admit I know very little about French history and its colonialist past, so this was a great history lesson in that through the eyes of those on the receiving end. It's also more topical and current than you'd expect from a mostly historical novel: it deals with the theme of immigration, racism, people's attitudes and shows you how little has actually changed over the years. (And it's not always certain those changes are for the better.)
There is some underlying politics stuff that I kind of wish had been discussed more - mostly because, again, I know next to nothing about this topic. But it also works like this, you can always look up things yourself and read more.
In the end, I see this as a book about identity. Deep down it tries to answer the question of who you are, how you see yourself and how other see you, why are those things different and why it matters. This is a gem of a book and I fear it'll go unnoticed by many. Let's face it, the past few years have seen a flood of novels with themes similar to this. However, I do feel this stands out. Give it a chance. You'll be rewarded.
This novel tells the story of three generations, from Algeria to France. From being someone important and respected to being someone looked down upon to being someone who's there but people don't really know what to think of them - nor do they themselves know. This is a story about war and finding peace, a story about finding oneself, a story about cultures, a story about immigration, a story about art.
While this was for the most part a story about men and how they've lived through the years, I was pleased that the women were also fleshed out, they had a story - at least Naïma. I admit I know very little about French history and its colonialist past, so this was a great history lesson in that through the eyes of those on the receiving end. It's also more topical and current than you'd expect from a mostly historical novel: it deals with the theme of immigration, racism, people's attitudes and shows you how little has actually changed over the years. (And it's not always certain those changes are for the better.)
There is some underlying politics stuff that I kind of wish had been discussed more - mostly because, again, I know next to nothing about this topic. But it also works like this, you can always look up things yourself and read more.
In the end, I see this as a book about identity. Deep down it tries to answer the question of who you are, how you see yourself and how other see you, why are those things different and why it matters. This is a gem of a book and I fear it'll go unnoticed by many. Let's face it, the past few years have seen a flood of novels with themes similar to this. However, I do feel this stands out. Give it a chance. You'll be rewarded.
November 19, 2021
Αναμφισβήτητα σπουδαίο όσον αφορά τη δουλειά που έχει γίνει, πλούσιο σε ιστορικά στοιχεία, με "έχασε" σε αρκετά σημεία ο τρόπος αφήγησης.
3.5⭐
3.5⭐
April 15, 2019
Mah. La riassumo così la mia recensione. Ho letto robe enormi su sto romanzo, commenti che gridano al capolavoro, entusiasmo sommo contenuto in poche righe. Mi imbarco su un volo breve e comincio a leggere piena di aspettative. Trovo già le prime trenta pagine abbastanza faticose, non un buon segno per me che non sono certo abituata a leggere Topolino (o non solo perlomeno, perché anche il topastro le leggo sempre volentieri. Ahi, mi dico. Non sono una grande amante delle saghe familiari ma non le detesto nemmeno ma in questo libro non mi piace quasi niente. Non riesco a trovare un filo che mi leghi, non mi appassiono ai personaggi (non mi ricordo già più i nomi), trovo tutto un po' insipido, un po' scontato. Ed è un peccato perché i temi ci sono tutti: l'immigrazione, le seconde generazioni, la difficoltà della fuga, la difficoltà di integrarsi, la paura di ricordare. Ma niente, non mi è arrivato nulla. La scrittura, forse, è un po' didascalica,c'è troppo, è un romanzo che, a parere mio, andava sfoltito, c'è molto da togliere.
E' un po' come quando ordini un Negroni sbagliato, con aspettative altissime, per capirci come lo fanno al Radetzky a Milano. Poi arriva e ha le proporzioni sbagliate e ti viene una tristezza che solo chi ha provato può capire.
E' un po' come quando ordini un Negroni sbagliato, con aspettative altissime, per capirci come lo fanno al Radetzky a Milano. Poi arriva e ha le proporzioni sbagliate e ti viene una tristezza che solo chi ha provato può capire.
May 31, 2023
Το συγκεκριμένο βιβλίο το έπιανα καιρό στα χέρια μου. Έχοντας την αίσθηση πως είναι απαιτητικό είχα αποτραπεί να το ξεκινήσω. Έκανα λάθος! Κυλάει τόσο γρήγορα που ενώ σταματούσα στις 50 σελίδες συνέχεια προχωρούσα την ανάγνωση παρακάτω.
Ως γνώμονα τον πόλεμο στην Αλγερία η συγγραφέας θίγει τα θέματα της αποικιοκρατίας, της μετανάστευσης και της αναζήτησης ταυτότητας.
Η αφήγηση κάνει κύκλο αφού αρχίζει και τελειώνει με το ίδιο πρόσωπο. Έχουμε τα βιώματα μιας οικογένειας τριών γενεών. Ξεκινάει με την τρίτη γενιά, την εγγονή, η οποία προσπαθεί να γνωρίσει την ιστορία της πατρίδας της. Λόγω του πολέμου αναγκάστηκαν οι γονείς της να γίνουν πρόσφυγες. Οι παππούδες και οι γονείς της βίωσαν τον στιγματισμό, τις κακουχίες, την απώλεια και τον ρατσισμό. Η Ναϊμά θέλει να επιστρέψει στον τόπο καταγωγής της αναζητώντας την εθνική της ταυτότητα.
Πηγαίνει κόντρα στα πιστεύω της οικογένειας, δε φοβάται, δε μετανιώνει. Ξεδιπλώνει λοιπόν, η συγγραφέας μια ιστορία που γνωρίζει κάθε λαός σε περίοδο πολέμου… κάθε λαός που αναζητά μια νέα πατρίδα, μια νέα ζωή, φιλήσυχη, χωρίς εθνικές αναταράξεις κ συγκρούσεις.
Στόχος της η ενσωμάτωση ενός προσφυγικού λαού στις καινούργιες χώρες και η επανένταξη στην κοινωνία.
Ως γνώμονα τον πόλεμο στην Αλγερία η συγγραφέας θίγει τα θέματα της αποικιοκρατίας, της μετανάστευσης και της αναζήτησης ταυτότητας.
Η αφήγηση κάνει κύκλο αφού αρχίζει και τελειώνει με το ίδιο πρόσωπο. Έχουμε τα βιώματα μιας οικογένειας τριών γενεών. Ξεκινάει με την τρίτη γενιά, την εγγονή, η οποία προσπαθεί να γνωρίσει την ιστορία της πατρίδας της. Λόγω του πολέμου αναγκάστηκαν οι γονείς της να γίνουν πρόσφυγες. Οι παππούδες και οι γονείς της βίωσαν τον στιγματισμό, τις κακουχίες, την απώλεια και τον ρατσισμό. Η Ναϊμά θέλει να επιστρέψει στον τόπο καταγωγής της αναζητώντας την εθνική της ταυτότητα.
Πηγαίνει κόντρα στα πιστεύω της οικογένειας, δε φοβάται, δε μετανιώνει. Ξεδιπλώνει λοιπόν, η συγγραφέας μια ιστορία που γνωρίζει κάθε λαός σε περίοδο πολέμου… κάθε λαός που αναζητά μια νέα πατρίδα, μια νέα ζωή, φιλήσυχη, χωρίς εθνικές αναταράξεις κ συγκρούσεις.
Στόχος της η ενσωμάτωση ενός προσφυγικού λαού στις καινούργιες χώρες και η επανένταξη στην κοινωνία.
October 12, 2022
This was a perfect read for me. It is great with its information design, characterization, premise, description, overall prose, and how it handles time--everything about it was catnip to me. I imagine if you know quite a bit about the Algerian-Franch conflict and fallout the bark in this bite might be tempered, but I really only knew the broad strokes. There's a mystery placed at the heart of the narration which was really engaging to me, and that was Who is the narrator and why is it a duel timeline? Both questions were highly effective and came with some payoff. It doesn't feel like it's trying to provide catharsis, talk down to the reader, or exist to educate. It is really hard to pull off this kind of book, and this makes it look absolutely effortless. A standard to which I will measure books like it and a favorite of the year, hands down.
I did not want it to end and will reread it in the future. I am already anticipating it.
I did not want it to end and will reread it in the future. I am already anticipating it.
June 18, 2021
How much do most people know about the Algerian War for Independence, about French colonialism of Algeria, and the various factions of the war--from 1954-1962? I knew very little other than that Camus was born in the French territory of Algeria--he was a “pied-noir” citizen. In this new Zeniter novel, a Millennial character named Naïma decides to try and find the answers to her family’s history, and her father’s journey here with her grandfather all those years before she was born. This novel contains a family legacy that is credible enough to be true, although it is written as fiction. It reads like a historical biography.
Naïma works at an art gallery, and is currently disenchanted with the paths she has chosen, tired of living from hangover to hangover. She’s being sent to Algeria by her boss and married lover to locate an artist whose works they plan to display. Naïma does some critical research, and tries to unearth what keeps her father, Hamid, so mum about his childhood. Her mother, Clarissa, is French, and tells Naïma that she knows very little about those early years before she met Hamid. THE ART OF LOSING is a historical fiction that has the air of auto-fiction, and it is a lesson of displacement, the yearning for home, community, security and self-sovereignty that pervades the pages. You can lose when you are considered a “harki,” a pejorative term for the Algerians that worked with the French military to maintain peace. You are recast as a traitor.
The chapters are filled with what you may imagine happens in war: dying, violence, fear, betrayal, courage, loss, and an absence that hangs over the survivors’ heads, the language barriers. Tragedy upon tragedy, and some are cynical, while others have hope, and some repress those years altogether once able. Redemption does peek from the gloom, too. There were times I felt bone weary reading the narrative, when it went dry, historically stiff. However, it was edifying and frequently touching. Zeniter has a touch with the tenderness of children and the tears of our ancestors.
Kudos to Frank Wynne for a smooth translation from French to English.
Naïma works at an art gallery, and is currently disenchanted with the paths she has chosen, tired of living from hangover to hangover. She’s being sent to Algeria by her boss and married lover to locate an artist whose works they plan to display. Naïma does some critical research, and tries to unearth what keeps her father, Hamid, so mum about his childhood. Her mother, Clarissa, is French, and tells Naïma that she knows very little about those early years before she met Hamid. THE ART OF LOSING is a historical fiction that has the air of auto-fiction, and it is a lesson of displacement, the yearning for home, community, security and self-sovereignty that pervades the pages. You can lose when you are considered a “harki,” a pejorative term for the Algerians that worked with the French military to maintain peace. You are recast as a traitor.
The chapters are filled with what you may imagine happens in war: dying, violence, fear, betrayal, courage, loss, and an absence that hangs over the survivors’ heads, the language barriers. Tragedy upon tragedy, and some are cynical, while others have hope, and some repress those years altogether once able. Redemption does peek from the gloom, too. There were times I felt bone weary reading the narrative, when it went dry, historically stiff. However, it was edifying and frequently touching. Zeniter has a touch with the tenderness of children and the tears of our ancestors.
Kudos to Frank Wynne for a smooth translation from French to English.
September 7, 2022
5 ans après ma première lecture, je réitère les 5 étoiles car ce roman me bouleverse ( au présent oui).
Je suis heureuse d'avoir pris le temps de le relire ce grand roman et d'avoir retrouvé ce qui m'avait tant plu la première fois.
Naïma, Hamid, Ali, Yema, Clarisse...je vous retrouverai un jour pour une troisième lecture.
Je suis heureuse d'avoir pris le temps de le relire ce grand roman et d'avoir retrouvé ce qui m'avait tant plu la première fois.
Naïma, Hamid, Ali, Yema, Clarisse...je vous retrouverai un jour pour une troisième lecture.
January 7, 2023
1962 yılında Cezayir’den Fransa’ya göç eden bir ailenin yaklaşık yetmiş yıllık bir zamana yayılan, üç kuşak hikayesini anlatan muazzam bir roman Kaybetme Sanatı. Günümüz Fransa’sında ailenin üçüncü kuşağının köklerinin izine düşme sinyallerini veren kısa bir girişin ardından, 1940’lı yıllarda Cezayir’in bir Berberi köyündeki büyükbabanın hikayesiyle başlıyor roman ve Fransa’ya karşı verilen bağımsızlık savaşında yaşananlarla devam ediyor. Ardından Fransa’ya göç etmek zorunda kalan ailenin bu göç sürecininin, Fransa’daki ilk yıllarınının, burada büyüyen ve dünyaya gelen çocuklarının
ve en nihayetinde torunlarının hikayesini okuyoruz. Her bir kuşağın dönemindeki toplumsal şartları, tarihi olayları, siyasi değişimleri ve bunların bireyler üzerindeki etkilerini çok iyi gözlemleyerek yine aynı başarıyla kurguya dahil etmiş genç yazar. Her kuşağın hangi olay ya da tarihsel süreçten nasıl etkilendiğini, neden, nasıl davrandığını çok güzel aktarmış.
Kitabı benim için çok özel bir eser yapan üç unsur var: Birincisi, Zeniter’in her kuşağa ve olaya mesafesini çok iyi ayarlaması ve oldukça objektif tavrı. Kuşaktan kuşağa elbette radikal şekilde değişen dünya görüşlerinin hiçbirini yargılamadan ama aklamaya da çalışmadan, herkesin kendi penceresinden görüneni okura yansıtabilmiş. İkincisi, yine ilk maddeyle ilişkili olarak, ırkçılık, kimlik, göçmenlik, kültürel kodlar, ideolojiler gibi pek çok meseleyi masaya yatırıp, çok yönlü bir şekilde, insan faktörünü de göz önünde bulundurarak, kendi içlerindeki çelişkileri ve tutarsız yanlarını da atlamadan ele alabilmesi. İnsan söz konusu olduğunda, diğer pek çok konuda olduğu gibi, bu konularda da siyah ve beyaz yerine gri alanların hakim olduğunu çünkü Zeniter’in kendi sözleriyle insanın ‘basit bir kum taneciği değil; kendi algılayışı içinde sıkışıp kalmış karanlık bir yumak’ olduğu gerçeğini çok güzel işlemiş (s.285). Son olarak, yazar, aslında çok başarılı bir toplumsal ve siyasi kurgu kaleme alırken, karakterleri derinleştirmeyi, her bireyin psikolojik tahlilini detaylandırmayı atlamamış; aksine üç farklı kuşağı anlayabilme ve anlatabilme yeteneğine hayran kaldım. 20. yüzyıl ortalarında Cezayir’i resmederken, buradan kendi kültürel kodlarıyla kopup gelen bir babanın ve annenin iç dünyasını da aynı gerçekçilik, samimiyet ve titizlikle yansıtmayı ihmal etmemiş. Keza üçüncü kuşakta, dönemin şartlarında bambaşka boyutlar kazanan ırkçılığın ekonomik uzantılarına değinirken, sıkışıp kaldığı stereotipler arasında kimliğini bulmaya çalışan torunun, toplumda kadın olarak değişen konumunu es geçmemiş. Üstelik bu bireysel dünyalarda yaşananları öyle güçlü anlatmış ki, hiçbir açıdan bana aşina olmayan durumlar bile okurken inanılmaz etkiledi beni -ki bence edebiyatın en büyüleyici yanı da bu. Özellikle, ailesi, kökleri ve dışarıda kendine yeni inşa ettiği benliğiyle çatışma halindeyken, bu tabloya bir ilişki oturtmaya çalışan Hamid’i anlattığı bölümü unutmayacağım.
Okuduğum en iyi romanlardan biriydi.
ve en nihayetinde torunlarının hikayesini okuyoruz. Her bir kuşağın dönemindeki toplumsal şartları, tarihi olayları, siyasi değişimleri ve bunların bireyler üzerindeki etkilerini çok iyi gözlemleyerek yine aynı başarıyla kurguya dahil etmiş genç yazar. Her kuşağın hangi olay ya da tarihsel süreçten nasıl etkilendiğini, neden, nasıl davrandığını çok güzel aktarmış.
Kitabı benim için çok özel bir eser yapan üç unsur var: Birincisi, Zeniter’in her kuşağa ve olaya mesafesini çok iyi ayarlaması ve oldukça objektif tavrı. Kuşaktan kuşağa elbette radikal şekilde değişen dünya görüşlerinin hiçbirini yargılamadan ama aklamaya da çalışmadan, herkesin kendi penceresinden görüneni okura yansıtabilmiş. İkincisi, yine ilk maddeyle ilişkili olarak, ırkçılık, kimlik, göçmenlik, kültürel kodlar, ideolojiler gibi pek çok meseleyi masaya yatırıp, çok yönlü bir şekilde, insan faktörünü de göz önünde bulundurarak, kendi içlerindeki çelişkileri ve tutarsız yanlarını da atlamadan ele alabilmesi. İnsan söz konusu olduğunda, diğer pek çok konuda olduğu gibi, bu konularda da siyah ve beyaz yerine gri alanların hakim olduğunu çünkü Zeniter’in kendi sözleriyle insanın ‘basit bir kum taneciği değil; kendi algılayışı içinde sıkışıp kalmış karanlık bir yumak’ olduğu gerçeğini çok güzel işlemiş (s.285). Son olarak, yazar, aslında çok başarılı bir toplumsal ve siyasi kurgu kaleme alırken, karakterleri derinleştirmeyi, her bireyin psikolojik tahlilini detaylandırmayı atlamamış; aksine üç farklı kuşağı anlayabilme ve anlatabilme yeteneğine hayran kaldım. 20. yüzyıl ortalarında Cezayir’i resmederken, buradan kendi kültürel kodlarıyla kopup gelen bir babanın ve annenin iç dünyasını da aynı gerçekçilik, samimiyet ve titizlikle yansıtmayı ihmal etmemiş. Keza üçüncü kuşakta, dönemin şartlarında bambaşka boyutlar kazanan ırkçılığın ekonomik uzantılarına değinirken, sıkışıp kaldığı stereotipler arasında kimliğini bulmaya çalışan torunun, toplumda kadın olarak değişen konumunu es geçmemiş. Üstelik bu bireysel dünyalarda yaşananları öyle güçlü anlatmış ki, hiçbir açıdan bana aşina olmayan durumlar bile okurken inanılmaz etkiledi beni -ki bence edebiyatın en büyüleyici yanı da bu. Özellikle, ailesi, kökleri ve dışarıda kendine yeni inşa ettiği benliğiyle çatışma halindeyken, bu tabloya bir ilişki oturtmaya çalışan Hamid’i anlattığı bölümü unutmayacağım.
Okuduğum en iyi romanlardan biriydi.
August 29, 2022
Αρκί (Harkis) ονομάστηκαν όσοι βοήθησαν τους Γάλλους αποικιοκράτες ή τήρησαν μια ύποπτα ουδέτερη στάση κατά την περίοδο του εθνικοαπελευθερωτικού πολέμου της Αλγερίας, με αποτέλεσμα μετά την επικράτηση του FLN και την ανεξαρτησία να στιγματιστούν και να εξοστρακιστούν από τη χώρα τους, "προδότες", "πρόσφυγες" ή "επαναπατρισθέντες", ανάλογα με το αφήγημα που βόλευε ή εξυπηρετούσε την κάθε εμπόλεμη πλευρά.
Το "Η Τέχνη της Απώλειας" της Alice Zeniter πήρε τον τίτλο του από το ποίημα One Art της Elizabeth Bishop, ένα (υπέροχο και συγκινητικό) απόσπασμα του οποίου εμφανίζεται στην αφήγηση ακριβώς τη στιγμή που πρέπει, και αφηγείται την ιστορία τριών γενιών harkis, με τη φιλοδοξία και το βάρος μιας οικογενειακής saga και μιας ιστορικής μαρτυρίας, αλλά ταυτόχρονα και με μια πιο μοντέρνα προσέγγιση αποδόμησής τους μέσα από μια πολυπρισματική πρόσληψη της πραγματικότητας, της Ιστορίας, αλλά και της ίδιας της Αλγερίας, της χώρας που χάθηκε κι εξακολουθεί να χάνεται ακόμα και δεκαετίες αργότερα, με διαφορετικό τρόπο για κάθε έναν από τους τρεις ήρωες που καταλαμβάνουν τα αντίστοιχα μέρη του μυθιστορήματος.
Από τη ζωή σε ένα απομακρυσμένο χωριό της Καβυλίας στα μέσα του προηγούμενου αιώνα μέχρι το μητροπολιτικό και πολυπολιτισμικό Παρίσι του σήμερα, η Zeniter καταδύεται σε μια αυτοβιογραφική διαδρομή απολογισμού και ξεκαθαρίσματος με τα φαντάσματα του παρελθόντος και ξεκινά ένα ταξίδι αυτογνωσίας προς την συμφιλίωση με τη χαμένη, συμβολικά και κυριολεκτικά, πατρίδα.
Αυτή η έννοια που τόσο ταλάνισε τον παππού και τον πατέρα της στις πρώτες δεκαετίες της εγκατάστασής τους σε μια χώρα στην οποία δεν εγκλιματίστηκαν ουσιαστικά ποτέ, γίνεται πλέον για την Zeniter πηγή δημιουργίας και η συγγραφέ��ς καταφέρνει με αυτό το συναρπαστικό βιβλίο να την εξερευνήσει, να βρει το θάρρος να επισκεφτεί την Αλγερία για να διαπιστώσει τι έχει απομείνει από εκείνη μέσα της και, το κυριότερο, να μάθει την τέχνη να τη χάνει, χωρίς να χάνει κομμάτια του εαυτού της στην πορεία και χωρίς την απολυτότητα του οριστικού και αμετάκλητου κλεισίματος.
Χωρίς να έχει φτάσει πουθενά, αλλά συνεχίζοντας να προχωράει.
Το "Η Τέχνη της Απώλειας" της Alice Zeniter πήρε τον τίτλο του από το ποίημα One Art της Elizabeth Bishop, ένα (υπέροχο και συγκινητικό) απόσπασμα του οποίου εμφανίζεται στην αφήγηση ακριβώς τη στιγμή που πρέπει, και αφηγείται την ιστορία τριών γενιών harkis, με τη φιλοδοξία και το βάρος μιας οικογενειακής saga και μιας ιστορικής μαρτυρίας, αλλά ταυτόχρονα και με μια πιο μοντέρνα προσέγγιση αποδόμησής τους μέσα από μια πολυπρισματική πρόσληψη της πραγματικότητας, της Ιστορίας, αλλά και της ίδιας της Αλγερίας, της χώρας που χάθηκε κι εξακολουθεί να χάνεται ακόμα και δεκαετίες αργότερα, με διαφορετικό τρόπο για κάθε έναν από τους τρεις ήρωες που καταλαμβάνουν τα αντίστοιχα μέρη του μυθιστορήματος.
Από τη ζωή σε ένα απομακρυσμένο χωριό της Καβυλίας στα μέσα του προηγούμενου αιώνα μέχρι το μητροπολιτικό και πολυπολιτισμικό Παρίσι του σήμερα, η Zeniter καταδύεται σε μια αυτοβιογραφική διαδρομή απολογισμού και ξεκαθαρίσματος με τα φαντάσματα του παρελθόντος και ξεκινά ένα ταξίδι αυτογνωσίας προς την συμφιλίωση με τη χαμένη, συμβολικά και κυριολεκτικά, πατρίδα.
Αυτή η έννοια που τόσο ταλάνισε τον παππού και τον πατέρα της στις πρώτες δεκαετίες της εγκατάστασής τους σε μια χώρα στην οποία δεν εγκλιματίστηκαν ουσιαστικά ποτέ, γίνεται πλέον για την Zeniter πηγή δημιουργίας και η συγγραφέ��ς καταφέρνει με αυτό το συναρπαστικό βιβλίο να την εξερευνήσει, να βρει το θάρρος να επισκεφτεί την Αλγερία για να διαπιστώσει τι έχει απομείνει από εκείνη μέσα της και, το κυριότερο, να μάθει την τέχνη να τη χάνει, χωρίς να χάνει κομμάτια του εαυτού της στην πορεία και χωρίς την απολυτότητα του οριστικού και αμετάκλητου κλεισίματος.
Χωρίς να έχει φτάσει πουθενά, αλλά συνεχίζοντας να προχωράει.
October 1, 2021
Δυνατά βιώματα, δυνατά συναισθήματα και ερωτήματα που δεν έχουν εύκολες απαντήσεις, γεννιούνται και δυναμώνουν μέσα από το μυθιστόρημα αυτό. Η αναζήτηση και η βιωματική γνωριμία της ηρωίδας με την πατρίδα της, μας πάει 3 γενιές πίσω, στην Αλγερία του 1930. Μέσα από περιγραφές που γίνονται άμεσα, απλά και κυρίως διακριτικά, παρουσιάζονται τα ιστορικά γεγονότα που οδηγήσαν στην ανεξαρτησία της Αλγερίας, παράλληλα με την ζωή της οικογένειάς της και τον αναγκαστικό εκπατρισμό αυτής στη Γαλλία. Θίγονται καίρια και επίκαιρα θέματα που αφορούν την καταγωγή, τη σύγκρουση των πολιτισμών, την απώλεια, την αναζήτηση της ταυτότητας, τον ρατσισμό και την απομόνωση, τις ανατροπές του βίου, τις αγωνίες του μετανάστη, τον αυτοπροσδιορισμό του ανθρώπου. Βαθιά ανθρώπινο, αποτυπώνει και πιστεύω ότι καταφέρνει να εξισορροπήσει, ισχυρά και αντικρουόμενα συναισθήματα και να μας δείξει τελικά ότι κάθε γενιά διαχειρίζεται με διαφορετικό τρόπο τα τραύματα του παρελθόντος και επιλέγει άλλους τρόπους προσαρμογής και ενσωμάτωσης στις νέες πατρίδες.
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