Une cité H.L.M. Sur les murs: graffitis, slogans, appels de détresse, dessins obscènes. Madjid vit là. Il est fils d'immigrés, paumé entre deux cultures, deux langues, deux couleurs de peau, et s'invente ses propres racines, ses attaches. Il attend. Sans trop y penser à cause de l'angoisse, insupportable. La peur règne. La violence. L'amour aussi. Pour la mère Malika, les frères et sœurs, le père - un petit vieux tombé d'un toit et qui a perdu la raison. Pour les copains et l'ami Pat, celui des bons et des mauvais coups, de la drague et de la drogue. La tendresse, l'amitié, quelques rires : ce sont les seules lueurs dans une existence vouée à l'échec. «Ça chante pas le béton, ça hurle au désespoir comme les loups dans la forêt, les pattes dans la neige, et qui n'ont même plus la force de creuser un trou pour y mourir.»
Do not listen to these other reviews. I would suggest reading this book and watching the battle of Algiers. To understand it you have to know the history for Algerians and Algerians born in France. Majid came to France at a young age. His siblings were born there. They know French culture more than their Algerian roots. However during the time frame, huge discrimination was at a peak due to the Algerian independence in 1962. This is from the colonization of France, since 1830. Algeria before their independence was an extension of France, legally and socially. It bares the mixing of both cultures and effects colonization had. This is were the conflict arises. You will see the shanty towns and public housing they lived in, the discrimination, the daily struggles, etc in this book. This is why it is so important. It's not just a literary read.
The film was no better than the original screenplay/book, which is supposed to show just how crushing poverty is in Paris for Algerians. While Charef may indeed do this, he does so at the sacrifice of any of his characters having any agency. The picture he paints is, "if you're from the 'hood in France, if you're a poor Arab, life's going to eat you up and destroy you." This, however, doesn't play out well given that much of the book is based on Charef's autobiographic info. He's a clear proof that one can come from the ghetto and indeed succeed. What's not articulated by Charef, or the countless reviews who deem this worthy literature, is why he chooses to focus his lens on some subjects [Pat, Majid and other misanthropes] and not, say, on the old gramma who still prays and practices her religion amidst the din of chaos that surrounds her.
Easy and quick to read, the language flows. At some points a little artificial, too much telling - perhaps this was intentional? Some interesting characters, Malika, the mother, being my favourite. Content-wise not quite my cup of tea though as the story unfolds.
« Au pays, on ne mangeait pas à sa faim, d’accord, mais on avait une petite maison en pierre, en chaume, un abri propre. Un ventre creux, ça peut se cacher, mais un taudis, tout le monde le voit. Et la dignité, alors ! «
Dans ce livre on suit Madjid et Pat, deux jeunes vivant dans la même cité et avec lesquels on découvre une marginalisation et une stigmatisation importante. La souffrance y est décrite dans ces formes les plus complexes. A lire.
You have to really have an understanding of the culture and time period to get to the meaning of the story here. It is still a bit dry, but more enjoyable of a read that way.
A formless meander through the lives of Madjid, his friends, and a few other depressing characters living in the projects outside of Paris. They are for the most part children of immigrants, mainly Algerians, who came to France seeking a better life. The housing estates are impoverished, but not desperately so. However, the society these characters inhabit is corrupted and fragmented. This new urban poverty may be less bleak then what they left behind, but it chews up traditional support structures and communities only to replace them with a new sort of hopelessness and isolation which seems to me far worse. I would like to read something explaining just why they left in the first place. Perhaps their conception of the home country is just a product of nostalgia.
This book is not particularly difficult to read, nor is it particularly unpleasant. That being said I feel very little for any of the characters involved except maybe contempt. If anything it leaves me with a bitter taste towards humanity as a whole. The only character who I really respect here is Malika who gives everything for her children and still finds time to help the families around her. However, she is the exception. I will never suffer like these people do. No matter how hard I try to be a good person I will never be able to measure up to the mothers like her who still manage to be decent human beings despite all they have to struggle with.
Coup de coeur.. Ce récit sur la vie en banlieue parisienne (qui date pourtant de quelques décennies) est toujours d'actualité..Immigrés, mères célibataires, parents au chômage, adolescents rebelles; tout y est. Mehdi Charef nous donne l'impression d'avoir passé des années en banlieue; il parle en expert, sans ce détachement scientifique des non-banlieusards, il dit la vérité crue comme elle est et est parvenu à créer ce récit poignant qui capte et qui nous fait regretter sa brièveté.
Mehdi charef nous transporte à la banlieue des années 80. Les événements se passent dans un HLM, un monde de béton, de brutalité, et de cruauté par excellence. à travers Madjid, Pat et, leurs amis, nous pénétrons dans ces quartiers. Les histoires de Madjid nous font découvrir les tracas du quotidien de sa famille, de ces copains, de ces voisins, et de tout le quartier. La cité des fleurs, voulue comme cosmopolite, n'était en réalité que l'incarnation de la violence, du racisme, et de l’inégalité. Ce récit nous fait un zoom aussi sur comment des adolescent comme Madjid et Pat peuvent se faire déscolariser très facilement, comment une bonne partie des habitants de la cité sombre dans l'alcool, la drogue, et la prostitution. et comment une jeune femme comme Josette prend à bras-le-corps les problèmes de précarité. finalement, je pense que les difficultés de la génération de madjid et pat sont toujours d'actualité pour la nouvelle génération, la situation ne semble pas améliorée mais plutôt dégradée.
Ça m'a pas trop plu...Pour celles et ceux qui souhaitent mieux connaître les conditions de vie des Magrébin.nne.s, c'est un livre cool mais pour celles et ceux qui les connaissent ou qui s'en doutent, ça apporte pas beaucoup. Y'avait peut être trop de personnages...
Ya quand même certains passages qui m'ont plu et qui sont intéressants:
"Madjid se rallonge sur son lit, convaincu qu'il n'est ni arabe ni français depuis bien longtemps. Il est fils d'immigrés, paumé entre deux cultures, deux histoires, deux langues, deux couleurs de peau, ni blanc ni noir, à s'inventer ses propres racines, ses attaches, se les fabriquer."
"C'est du spectacle, et du gratuit. Les gens sont aux fenêtres [...]"
"Cet étranger, il lui faut s'adapter au mode de vie, aux exigences, au tempérament des autres pour survivre. Faire semblant de suivre le mouvement ou alors refuser le système et se mettre à dos la société. Parce que c'est épuisant de courir après une carotte quand, de surcroît, on la sait pourrie depuis belle lurette."
Une histoire vivante, émouvante, surprenante. Ce livre permet le/la lecteur/trice un coup d'oeil sur la vie d'un jeune fils d'immigrés. J'ai utilisé des extraits de ce roman dans un examen à la fac sujet des migrations et la masculinité. La dynamique de la relation entre Madjid et Pat, Madjid et sa mère, la mère de Madjid et Joséphine...M. Charef possède un talent formidable de déconstruire ces moments intimes avec une signification plus large. Je peux recommander chaudement ce livre à ceux qui ont la moindre curiosité de comprendre qu'est que c'est de vivre entre deux cultures et comment les enfants d'immigrés trouvent leur propres chemins, et comment ils se perdent des fois.
Charef nos recrea los suburbios de Paris de los años 80, o en otras palabras, la sociedad parisina que no vive en el centro. Sigues la historia de un jovén de padres inmigrantes que se gana la vida. A mesura que avanza la historia veremos como se desarrollan los acontecimientos con los que suelen convivir sus habitantes en su día a día.
Por otro lado, gran recomendación de leerlo en francés por el aprendizaje de las palabras del argot y otras expresiones coloquiales típicas de los nativos franceses.
También, hay una película de la obra. Está bien ya que sigue la trama.
A great complement to someone who has already read Faïza Guène's Kiffe Kiffe Demain, as this book is similar is scope but from an entirely different perspective. The slang was definitely much harder to understand, though, and the story a little more disjointed.
Read for FREN 412, Postcolonial Theory and Literature, Spring 2021
characters of the book were very unlikeable to a point where it was unpleasant and cringe to read more. the writing didn't try to balance that fact out either... i still think there is some value in reading it. some passages were poetic and overall the book makes you more aware of the living conditions in the banlieue generally and at that point in time and the various difficulties, beliefs, cultural pecularities, clashes etc...
found this on the street and did not expect it to have all of the isms 😀 sooo sexist but i guess it could be considered an interesting manifest of its time esp. when looking at the situation of algerians in france…
clunky writing at times (or, perhaps, the translation?) - important portrayal of a particular moment in French history - the meandering plotlessness really captures the existential aimlessness
Read a couple days ago in one mammoth 3-hr sitting; couldn't put it down!
The narrative, such as it is, is secondary. What I love about books like this is their descriptive language of the scenery and characters, the grim light they shine on the way ordinary people live their lives. I enjoyed, for example, the way that the author often split off from a chronological telling of events to put in a couple pages of purely descriptive prose. The highlight of this was the couple of pages that discussed "concrete" and what living in concrete does to people, how it seeps into their blood and how they can never escape it.
I would say that the book is not for everyone, both for this focus on descriptive storytelling and also for the grim and realistic nature of said descriptions. I also worry that people who haven't lived on estates will read this and take (what I brazenly consider to be) the wrong message from it: that estates are no-go areas full of dangerous immigrants. This is not the author's fault, however, he goes to great lengths to highlight how the white residents of Flower City, with their padlocked doors and guard dogs, played an important part in making the place what it became.
Very vivid imagery in this novel showing a quality of life in 20th Century Île-de-France people don't want to think or talk about, or maybe didn't even know existed. You do not have the full cultural picture of modern France until you dive into the perspective of those affected by France's colonial past, in this case the perspective of 1980s second generation Algerians in/near the Paris suburb of Nanterre.
While set in different time periods of French history, it's worth comparing the experiences of the French colonizers that lived in Algeria, as described in some of Albert Camus' works, to the experiences of the youth in this book. Two very different sides of the same colonial coin, where there is dissonance between the physical/social space you inhabit and the spaces your heart would actually consider a home.
I'd recommend watching La Haine as well since it's a good visual representation the same dynamics described in this book and set in the same Parisian suburbs, but in the 1990s. Shows how some things never change no matter how much time goes by.
This story was a cross between The Stranger (minus the philosophy) and A Clockwork Orange (minus the language play).
The prose was stark and stiff, full of British-isms like "taking the piss" (it being published in the UK) —maybe something was lost in the translation.
Don't really know why (or when, exactly) I bought this book. Maybe I was stoned. Picked it up last night and read it because I was drunk and got sick of having books I don't know on my shelf.
The cover is cool though. It was designed by "Tommy Yamaha", who also did the cover for the more interesting Music For Glass Orchestra (which was published by the same press, Serpent's Tail).
So-so "Trainspotting"-esque non-story about second generation North African Arabs living in the slums of Paris. Has a few amusing parts but pretty bleak and uninteresting.
I read this for class and it definitely isn't something I would have picked up otherwise. I think the goal of the novel, to show people what it was like to be Algerian in France, was met and done properly. The problem is that the characters were not fleshed out very well, making it difficult to relate to or feel for them in anyway, and there wasn't really a plot, just jumping around to show the circumstance. The way it was written made it easy to read just not the most interesting thing to read.