The Nomad: Diaries of Isabelle Eberhardt

by Isabelle Eberhardt, Elizabeth Kershaw (Editor), Nina Voogd (Illustrator)

In her short life Isabelle Eberhardt (1877-1904) came to be known as the ultimate enigma and representative of everything that seemed dangerous in nineteenth-century society. Born the illegitimate daughter of an aristocratic Russian emigree she was a cross-dresser and sensualist, an experienced drug-taker and a transgressor of boundaries: a European reborn in the desert as an Arab and Muslim, a woman who reinvented herself as a man, wandering the Sahara on horseback. A profoundly lonely individual for all her numerous sexual adventures, she roused controversy and was loved and hated in equal measure. A mysterious attempt was made on her life and even her eventual death was ambiguous: she drowned in the desert at the age of twenty-seven. La bonne nomade, Isabelle’s diaries, is a fascinating account of her strange and passionate nomadic lifestyle; an evocative and deeply personal record of her torments, her search for inspiration as a writer, her spirituality and the intense color and fire of her living.

Genres: Travel, Nonfiction, Biography, Memoir, History, Africa, Adventure

208 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1987

About the author

Isabelle Eberhardt was a Swiss-Algerian explorer and writer who lived and travelled extensively in North Africa. For the time she was an extremely liberated individual who rejected conventional European morality in favour of her own path and that of Islam. Dressed as a man, calling herself Si Mahmoud Essadi, Eberhardt travelled in Arab society, with a freedom she could not otherwise have experienced. She died in a flash flood in the desert at the age of 27.

Reviews

[Mohsin Maqbool · Rating 5 out of 5]

Isabelle Eberhardt in sailor's uniform.

ISABELLE Eberhardt was a Swiss-Algerian explorer and writer who lived and travelled extensively in North Africa. She was a polyglot as she was fluent in Latin, Greek, Arabic, Russian, German, French and Italian. Her mother took her to North Africa where she along with her daughter converted to Islam. However, her mother died towards the end of the year.
Isabelle travelled the Sahara desert disguised as an Arab man, calling herself Si Mahmoud Essadi. However, she is more akin to being a transvestite. She was flat-chested, her body full of hair and her teeth black due to smoking kif (a kind of North African drug) and drinking alcohol. She might have indulged in taking chira (another drug) too, as several of her male friends did. She got into the habit because of taking drugs with her brothers Nicolas and Augustin. In fact, they initiated her into the act.


The daughter of a Russian noblewoman and her children's anarchistic tutor, Isabelle Eberhardt was raised to be an independent thinker. Already finished the bottle but yet to finish the cigarette. The best of independence for some!

Her favourite pet was a dove, which died before she moved to North Africa. She mostly travelled on horseback. Her favourite horse was called Sufa, named after a region which she loved. However, on occasion, she would also use dromedaries (an Arabian camel, especially one of a light and swift breed trained for riding or racing) and mules. When the need was required, she could walk long distances too!
She rejected conventional European morality in favour of her own path. She had several affairs. Her lover Slimane Ehnni was finally able to marry her two or three years after meeting her. I am surprised that she read the Quran but went against some of its tenets. The holy book clearly states that sex before marriage is forbidden in Islam. So is alcohol and taking drugs. But then not all Muslims follow the Quran and its tenets 100 per cent.
Dressed as a man, Isabelle travelled in Arab society, with a freedom she could not otherwise have experienced. She seems averse to females as she is mostly, if not always, seen in male company. Promiscuity can then be at its best.


A film entitled "Isabelle Eberhardt" was released in 1991.

The copy of the book that I have is called “The Passionate Nomad – The Diary of Isabelle Eberhardt”, published in English by Virago Press in 1987. The Introduction alone is worth the price of the book. The tome includes “Notes” and a glossary towards the end, which prove extremely useful.
Had she lived longer, she would have turned out to be a fabulous travel writer. Her jottings about Marseilles, Tunisia, Algiers, the people that she meets, architecture, the deserts, the sunsets and various plants is absolutely stupendous. Her first two short stories had already been published in the journal La Nouvelle Revue Moderne in 1895 and 1896. She was writing a novel the manuscript of which was badly damaged in the desert flash flood that took her life in 1904 at the age of 27.


Mathilda May with Peter O'Toole in "Isabelle Eberhardt".

From the two letters which were published in a French newspaper and have been copied in the diary, I could easily gather that she was a brilliant writer and could also have become a political correspondent for newspapers and magazines. She often travels between Geneva, Marseilles and Algeria and Morocco in North Africa. She wrote articles for newspapers and magazines.
Her creative writing was top-notch. Here is one of her quotes: "Now more than ever do I realize that I will never be content with a sedentary life, that I will always be haunted by thoughts of a sun-drenched elsewhere."


An image of Isabelle Eberhardt ensconced in orientalist framing.

She carried several of her books with her, including those of Pierre Loti and Dostoevsky. In fact, the latter was her most favourite whom she kept reading over and over again. There came a time when she could not carry all her books, so she just tore and took the pages she liked the most.


Inspired not only by his tale of dangerous Oriental love but by his gift for disguise and self-invention, Isabelle wanted to be Pierre Loti.

The book is highly recommended for all those who love reading about history, cultures and travelling. Even for those who love reading about adventure.


Isabelle Eberhardt's grave at Ain-Sefra.

Actress Juliet Stevenson retraces the journeys of turn-of-the-century traveller and writer Isabelle Eberhardt in the following video link. (BBC, 1994)
https://vimeo.com/110999838

The Australian-French co-production of "Isabelle Eberhardt" (1991).

[Kaisha · Rating 3 out of 5]

I gave this 3 stars, not because of Isabelle herself, but because of the prig of an editor who compiled this edition. I would be reading along, enjoying Isabelle’s perspectives on life, and then the editor would interject "and here Isabelle goes on to describe her great sexual satisfaction in her lover..." or "Isabelle's drug habit had grown so strong that she roamed the streets of Paris smoking the leaves off any tree she could find..." WTF? Why cut these parts out, I ask? So I had to go out and get an actual biography of this fin-de-sicele bohemian to learn the rest of the story.

[Jessica · Rating 2 out of 5]

While I'm glad I read these journals of Isabelle Eberhardt, I can't truthfully say that I enjoyed reading them. Her story is so intriguing, but I'd rather hear it told by someone else.

Just before the turn of the century Isabelle left her adopted home of Geneva and headed for Algeria which held her fascination for the duration of her short life. She caused a stir almost everywhere she went dressing as a man and being inducted into elite male societies and causing trouble with French colonial military. She wandered with very little means and alternated between states of elation at writing, living in her chosen country and reveling in her devotion to Islam and deep despair and as she calls it (over and over again) "infinite sadness." Within the confines of a conservative Arab society where women had few rights, Isabelle ingratiated herself, smoked kef, drank and had many sexual escapades before (and perhaps after) meeting her husband Slimene. Someone tried to assassinate her.

Isabelle had a pretty extraordinary life, but I'd rather hear it told by someone else (though the introduction is wonderful) in an abbreviated and edited version.

[Luke · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a wild book about an even wilder person. A text like this falls on the boundary of many an ideology and its respective antithesis: religion, politics, gender, (post)colonial, (pre)Stonewall. The thing is, I know the author wouldn't be interested in most of that, as while Eberhardt may have committed so hard to her unorthodox life as to ultimately die of it, she still never went deeper than what can be encompassed by the term 'slumming.' However, I still find this edition's editor's remarks along those lines acerbically unprofessional, and there is certainly a more complicated intercourse between Eberhardt and the people/country/timeline she engaged with that lies somewhere between the true love espoused by the author and the contemptuous espionage of the editor. For all that, I can't honestly say that this writing did much for me; indeed, it reminded me of nothing so much as Bashkirtseff's I Am the Most Interesting Book of All, precocious Russian nobility-descended woman writer and all, if not nearly so longwinded/insulated/self-obsessed. As such, if you are questing for a literary crux of fluctuation that stands in testament far beyond what status quo history books continue to deem fit for promulgation, this is certainly on the shorter and digestible side. Will it blow your mind? Unless you're on the fresher side of sixteen, probably not.

[Edita · Rating 5 out of 5]

I shall always cherish the memory of these past few days spent in greater happiness for they are moments stolen from life’s hopelessness, so many hours snatched from the void.

[astried]

Expectation, that sneaky bugger, remind me to throw it out of the house whenever I start reading a new book.

When I first found out about Isabelle Eberhardt I thought she must've been the coolest woman ever. She explored the Algerian desert in man's clothes. She did it at the time before youth hostel, travel agents and backpack tourist. Even better, she was only in her early twenties when she did it.

Compared to my cowardy wish to see desert from the edge, she has my utmost adulation. I wanted to be her BFF, lapping on her words as we sat together, shisha standing between us. But do I really want to? Sadly I don't, not after I read her diary.

I realize I'm not being quite fair with her. After all, diaries seldom show person in their best light, especially when the person doesn't have any power in editing or brushing up and hiding whatever skeleton they've unwittingly written down for posterity. Anyhow, isn't that what people were looking for in a diary? Somebody elses skeleton and dirty laundry? So I should've known what I was going to get.

What I wanted to read; adventure galore, description of desert landscape, survival story, tiny bit of romance. I want her to show me what I could've experienced if I were her.

What I've read; a rather snobbish, obnoxiously self righteous stream of conciousness. It could've been my diary. To get it straight. She's still a great persona. She had the gumption to do all the thing she has done, surviving a murder attempt, shouting her indignation on behalf of truth and justice. But maybe for a person to be able to do all those thing she's not necessarily likeable? By me at least.

Her greatest sin for me is how judgemental she could be. Her brother, who was the last family tie she has, married a normal woman which she didn't like. What followed was whining on how he has changed, his betrayal on the bond they had, evil sister in-law poisoning him. Everything except that if his brother has chosen this type of woman for a wife, perhaps that's the kind of life he wanted, perhaps they as a couple actually more similar in character than he to the sister. I'm not rejecting the possibility that his brother's household has treated her shabbily when she was forced to bunk with them. Money and inheritance sure soured and blacken even better person. But I didn't enjoy reading about it for the most part of the diary. Especially in the hollier-than-thou and innocent-victim light that she used. Just because her brother didn't conciously and continuously strife to foster his intellectual and spiritual domain, didn't mean he's a less worthy human being.

The bigger part of the rest of the diary was about how wonderful it was to have found her soul mate. I'm glad for her, I'm sure if I were to found mine, I'd have dedicated my whole diary to him. Unfortunately I was annoyingly jealous and bitter about her whole romance. My bad.

The last stroke to fell the monument. The editorial comments. Dear lord. From the beginning it has been noted that not all entries are included. Repeated quotations and random scribbles or mundane travel notes (expenditure, etc.) have been omitted. Instead, we lucky reader are provided with some narration filling up the gaps in the heroic effort of making sure we could have a chance of piecing up her life. I'm really grateful. Honestly she's not a really dilligent diarist. But this just made me wonder what has been taken out, would I have understood anything if I relied on her words only, did I miss any juicy bits? Not really likely as the narration even tried to inject some excitement by letting us know of her kef and alcoholic binges which couldn't be seen from the entries. Still it's rather uncomfortable to have this second voice interjecting now and again.

So there, I myself have been rather judgemental here. I have this silly tendency to judge non-fictional story the same as fictional. With this review I've condemned Isabelle for not writing her diary the way fictional adventure story is written. But, no matter how exhilarating her life was, why bother to publish her diary if it's not that interesting anyway? Where can I actually read her writing on desert exploration? Do I even dare to risk reading it? Would I like her writing? Questions and questions and I'm getting further away from the desert.

Lousy two stars and I was being generous.

[Xio · Rating 5 out of 5]

Inspired by my own desire and fueled by the biographical accounts of true adventurers I cut my hair down short donned my boots and overalls and went into the wide world hoping to pass for a boy wanting to engage, but to be left alone.. This set of diaries is not the book I read. My out of print version is named "Vagabond" and is written by I Eberhardt, but while she kept a journal she also wrote a tale of herself.

She cut her hair, donned male muslim dress got herself down into N Africa and though they found her out they let her be and she died in a flash flood, I think addicted to opium or hashish.

My kind of romance.

[Karen · Rating 2 out of 5]

I'm halfway through and disappointed. Eberhardt was a very interesting character who as a young woman decided to live in North Africa, converted to Islam, and frequently dressed as a boy to enjoy more freedom than she would as a woman in this era (ca 1900) and environment. She is enraptured with her surroundings. I was hoping for something as evocative and powerful as Beryl Markham's West With the Night or Durrell's Prospero's Cell, but her diaries seems thin somehow. Maybe it's the translation.

[Robyn · Rating 1 out of 5]

What an absolute shit show of an editor | I had to skip the introduction, with its condescension, judgemental language, assumptions unbacked by research, and self-righteous prudery. The editor claims that obviously Eberhardt must have been anorexic, since she was flat-chested, thin, with body hair and not menstruating, but doesn't connect Eberhardt's significant malnourishment with the editor's own comments on how Eberhardt's substance use was so severe that she spent all her money on narcotics, not keeping enough to buy food. So was she anorexic? Or was she driven to poverty by addiction and unable to feed herself? As a teenager, Eberhardt was so enamored of North Africa that she sought correspondence with anyone who could provide details, and she moved there with her mother, but the editor claims she, like the hippies of the 1960s, only went in order to engage in adventurous sex. Et cetera. When the actual diaries begin, the editor chooses not to properly contextualize them. On the very first page she simply says that Eberhardt records her thoughts during a visit to her newly married brother, but does not bother to mention that during the six months that Eberhardt mentions as containing "torments and confusion", she nursed her emotionally abusive father to his death, ended an engagement, ran out of money, had legal battles over inheritance law and her home, and moved continents, all just two years after the death of her mother and one year after the death of a half-brother. The editor adds footnotes that are entirely her own opinion, and cuts out content that she either disapproves of or which don't fit her narrative, but doesn't note where those cuts have been made. It's impossible to review the content of the diaries, because the editor has done such an abhorrent job.

[Jo Eva · Rating 5 out of 5]

A fascinating woman. I am so glad to have read some of her thoughts, 120 years in the future.

"I would still like to make a stab at happiness, in the firm of a solitary owl's nest for myself, in some far-off place where I can be completely independent, a place to go back to and bury what loss and misfortune is still in store for me."

[Annabelle · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is excerpts of Isablle Eberhardt’s diaries writing in 1900. She was an iconoclastic woman, Russian born in Switzerland of questionable progeny on the male side. The family’s tutor ostensibly her father tutored her and converted her and her mother to Islam. She was brilliant speaking French, Russian, German and Arabic and a voracious reader. She dressed as a man and travled alone through Algeria sleeping in the sands and being sexually promiscuous. During the diary time she fell in love and married an Algerian soldier. She was a problem to the French occupiers since she was friendly with Algerians and was inducted as a Sufi. Her diaries are characterized by a heightened examination of her own consciousness and a fierce desire to learn and a mystical sensibility. Worth reading for the descriptive detail of the lands around the Mediterranean and the desert, as well as the political streams of oppression of woman and colonization of North Africa.

[Rebecca · Rating 2 out of 5]

A thin volume, with little background; I likely should've started with a biography first. Was thinking she'd get to Morocco, but apparently not. Still, an inspiration for her love of the Maghreb and passion for travel. Too bad that, in her time, she had to dress as a man to do it ... and that she held her own gender in such contempt.

[Tracey Wilde · Rating 1 out of 5]

Gave up. She was like a modern day teenager with her 'nobody loves me, everybody hates me' attitude.

[Madrileña Reader · Rating 1 out of 5]

Summary: "I have a feeling of voluptuous melancholy", "People are so basic and boring", "I'm special and sensitive".

[Kate Parr · Rating 2 out of 5]

Tim sorry to leave so few stars for a memoir, since it isn't really an act of creativity, this all happened and she can't help that. But crikey this woman was tedious. There was a huge amount of 'oh, if only...' and 'oh, to be in X place...'. Granted her life was not particularly nice so I don't blame her for wanting to be somewhere else but it was never enough. In Marseille she wanted to be in Algeria. When she got there she wanted to be in the desert. She praises the people, but criticizes what they wear and how they live, claiming that Arabs living in Africa are neither real Arabs nor real Africans. I don't think the assassination attempt had anything to do with her dressing as a man or being a white Muslim, I think they were just sick or her attitude. She claims to be a great intellectual but there is no evidence of this in her writing: she won't shut up about Slimene and their grand true love, but she never really writes about him either. There's no sense of who he is or what he's done to deserve her devotion, their love just 'is'. All of the above combined with some clumsy editorial choices (the diaries are lifted from the physical books, but she write out of order, so at one point she marries Slimene then the entries jump back 6 months and she's back to pining for him) just made this a bit of a tedious mess. I might try to find some of her published writings to see what the fuss was about but I find I'm just not that invested.

[Jeff Clay · Rating 2 out of 5]

I quickly became bored and frustrated with with reading about how alone and gloomy and desolate the author is. At times I had a vision of a world weary teenager feverishly jotting down her deepest, but entirely self-focused thoughts. Considering her age, this is not completely unexpected of course. Still, just a bit tiring. Plus the journals jump all over and never give a complete picture of what is going on with her. She may well have been a fascinating person and certainly lived a tragically short life, but this book is not the place to learn about that.

[Marlene · Rating 1 out of 5]

She may have been adventurous and outrageous for her time; but she was morose and depressive to read. I did not care for her whining, too much like Twilight and the Host. Hey, maybe this is the inspiration for Stephanie Meyers characters.

[Melinda · Rating 2 out of 5]

I rated the book as "ok" because the writer had a truly interesting life, but the text itself is somewhat scattered, repetitive and melodramatic in places.

[Eldon · Rating 4 out of 5]

Desperately beautiful escapist.

[Nick · Rating 2 out of 5]

An intimate look into the life of a brilliant and unique woman. I don’t feel like I walked away with many insights or memorable moments, however.

[Sara Vizcarra · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ella siente muy intensamente.

[Socrate · Rating 3 out of 5]

În toate vitrinele fotografilor este expus privirilor curioase ale străinilor portretul unei femei din Sud, purtând un costum bizar, cu chipul impresionant al unui idol din străvechiul Orient sau al unei arătări… Chip de pasăre de pradă cu ochi misterioşi. Câte reverii unice şi poate, în câteva suflete cu afinităţi comune, câte intuiri ale Sudului trist şi strălucitor a evocat portretul „femeii din Ouled Naïl“ trecătorilor care l-au contemplat, pe care efigia sa i-a tulburat?

Dar cine îi ştie povestea, cine ar putea să presupună că, în viaţa necunoscută a acestei femei, atât de apropiată şi atât de îndepărtată totodată, a avut loc o adevărată dramă, că ochii ei umbriţi, că buzele ei arcuite au surâs fantomei fericirii?

Înainte de toate, denumirea de „femeia din Ouled Naïl“, pusă portretului lui Ashura ben Said, este înşelătoare: Ashura, care încă trăieşte, fără îndoială, în vreun gurbi beduin uitat de lume, provine din chaoui, populaţie sălbatică din munţii Aurès.

Povestea sa, agitată şi tristă, este unul dintre acele poeme de iubire arabă, care se desfăşoară în străvechiul decor al obiceiurilor înrădăcinate şi care n-au alţi rapsozi decât pe ciobanii şi pe conducătorii de cămile, care improvizează, cu o artă întru totul intuitivă şi fără artificii, balade lungi şi monotone ca drumurile prin deşert, despre iubirile celor din neamul lor, despre sacrificii, răzbunări, nefra şi razzia.

Fiică de tăietor de lemne, Ashura se lăsase purtată multă vreme de visul ce nu încape în cuvinte al trăirii lăuntrice în faţa zărilor largi şi albastre ale munţilor şi ale pădurilor întunecoase de cedri. Apoi, măritată prea devreme, fusese dusă de soţul ei în tristul şi banalul Batna, oraş de cazărmi şi cocioabe, fără trecut şi fără istorie. Stând închisă în casă, pradă plictiselii împovărătoare a unei existenţe pentru care nu fusese făcută, Ashura cunoscuse toate chinurile nevoii neostoite de libertate. Alungată în scurt timp, se stabilise într-unul dintre bordeiele dărăpănate din Village Nègre, o dependinţă indispensabilă a cazărmilor garnizoanei.

[Ronald Barranco · Rating 3 out of 5]

Sometimes brilliant, sometimes rambling and depressing, Eberhardt's diaries give a first-hand account of a woman living on her own in the Sahara desert. Isabelle mentions the possibility of someone reading her diaries, but it is obvious that these journals were not intended for public consumption. Her writing and thoughts jump all over the place, understandably, since she died before she could edit or organize these writings.

Isabelle is the quintessential traveler. She hungers for new experiences and needs action in her life. She feels uncomfortable in “civilized” places and feels most at home in Algeria, among the native people living a simple life. Her most joyous moments seem to be when she engulfs herself into Islam and its culture, but Isabelle is not a conformist. She is determined to do things her own way, even when it seemingly makes her miserable.

[Ember Leigh · Rating 5 out of 5]

Isabelle Eberhardt could have easily been one of my childhood friends. Though she lived in the late 1800's, her worries, woes, and tribulations echo that of many women these days in the throes of New Adulthood, struggling to strike out on your own, make sense of the world, and be true to some quivering idea of oneself buried deep on the inside.

Some of Isabelle's thoughts are verbatim for things I've written in my own diary. The solidarity felt with this wanderer and seeker from another time is shocking. Her affinity for religion and the path in which her life ultimately winds are both interesting and shocking. One can't help but think who she might have been had her life not ended so early.

[Candi · Rating 3 out of 5]

I liked this book, which is unusual for a diary. Most diaries are not written in an interesting way. The author here was a writer and able to make even her diaries interesting. She gave her world color and texture (missing from most diaries). Her descriptions of the world she is in balance with her moments of introspection.

One thing that is a bonus with this author is that she does not express the European superiority of many travelers. It may help that she is not a rich tourist but someone trying to belong to a culture she learned of and admired from afar.

Disclaimer - this review was written about two years after I read the book.

[Georgiana Geo · Rating 2 out of 5]

Cum sa incep?
Nu mi-a plăcut. :) d-aia nu stiu cum si in ce fel sa o descriu.
Puține pagini si multe capitole. Fiecare in parte având la bază o poveste de dragoste diferită. Chestia e ca nici una fericită, toate au un final prea trist.
Mi-a fost greu să o citesc. Prea poetic totul. Ii mai lipseau rimele si devenea o carte de poezii.
Am citit cate ceva pe internet. Am obiceiul să mă documentez putin inainte sa deschid o carte al cărui autor are legatura cu islamul.
Viata autoarei este mai interesantă decât acest mic roman de povestiri.

[Samantha · Rating 2 out of 5]

This was hard to rate as some of Eberhatdts observations are outstanding but the diaries are poorly compiled and much is cut out or left to rushed descriptions from the translator. Look forward to reading some of the novels of this fascinating figure

[Emily]

"Eberhardt's story is reason enough to read these collected memoirs; Born in Geneva in 1877, she moved with her mother to Algeria, converted to Islam, and lived her life as a man. She had many friends, lovers and enemies, and died in a mysterious desert flood at age 27." (from Conde Nast Traveler, one of the 86 best travel books ever written)

[إيمان إيمان · Rating 4 out of 5]

Perhaps I shouldn't have read Eberhardt's diaries after Leslie Blanch's Wilder Shores of Love! Isabelle Eberhardt reminds me so much of Lawrence of Arabia as both of them are sex-crazed, mysterious, mysteriously in love with the Arabian desert and the gate from which colonialism entered the Orient...

[Elianne Farhat · Rating 5 out of 5]

beautiful writing from a strong woman travelling throughout north africa. her story is captivating & her cosmopolitanism is way before her time.