Maïssa Bey delivered another gut punch with another powerful novella. It's a book that leaves you absolutely speechless, so apologies if this review seems incoherent. It's simply my state of mind.
The story begins calmly, with an Algerian woman taking a night train in France, but within a few pages, once she gets talking to the other passengers in her compartment, the atmosphere is highly charged and you read with bated breath how this conversation is going to evolve.
The story revolves around the torture and murder of the father of the narrator - who is a stand-in for the author herself, and the novella is accompanied by photo's and documents of the author's own father, who was also murdered in the Algerian war of independence. But it's also about the experiences of the French soldiers and the questions the next generation has about what happened during the war. Central to the story is the question of how we will talk about a shared, traumatic past with each other - victim, perpetrator, descendants -, how we share our stories. And all the while, the pain and trauma are ever present, not relenting and never resolved. Beautiful, beautiful evocation of what war and trauma does to people. And even though (or perhaps precisely because) it's a highly specific, highly personal story, it's easy to see the parallels with other wars, other trauma's in other nations.