Après son divorce, Khadija, une jeune architecte de trente-cinq ans, retourne vivre dans la maison de son père, au Maroc. Dans ce territoire de l'enfance et des souvenirs, une fête se prépare : le frère de Khadija se marie et la famille s'apprête à accueillir la nouvelle épousée. Sans cesse renvoyée à son échec, Khadija souffre en silence.
Elle trouve une alliée en la personne de sa cousine Malika. Complices depuis toujours, elles questionnent ensemble leur passé et leur éducation pour tenter de comprendre ce qui plonge Khadija dans l'humiliation et la culpabilité.
C'est dans une langue extrêmement maîtrisée, souvent empreinte de poésie, que Yasmine Chami-Kettani évoque l'importance de la mémoire méditerranéenne et de la culture religieuse dans la vie de ces femmes qui en sont, parfois malgré elles, les dépositaires.
This is the first novel I read from Moroccan author Yasmine Chami. This novel was first published in 2002 and was her first novel. Through reading this novel, you can realize that the author masters well the French language using beautiful word and expressions and describing thoroughly and nicely each object of the scenes. The story is about two female cousins meeting the eve of a wedding and telling themselves stories of their own past and their female relatives'past back up to the grandfather of the grandfather. For a foreign reader, the book could be good, exotic, and new to read. For a Moroccan reader, it could be nostalgic moment to read this book. Unfortunately for me, the excess use of beautiful language and of descriptions only hid the lack of creativity, originality, and absence of use of a personnel writing style and voice. The stories told through the book are known to all because described literally as lived by all and their was no particular twist to the stories or a unique view to make them more interesting.
Unfortunately, It seems this combination of excess beautiful language and lack of creativity is not specific to this author.
Dovrebbero smetterla di insegnare la tecnica del "flusso di coscienza" a scuola....giusto Joyce se la è potuta permettere e comunque io faccio fatica a leggere pure lui.
Peccato perchè dalla quarta di copertina sembrava promettente ma questo libricino davvero non è affrontabile.