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La Petite Fille dans le cercle de la lune
Samoana a dix ans, du caractère, la tête pleine de rêves mais le sens de l'observation. Sur son île des Samoa, au cœur du Pacifique, la nonchalance chère à Gauguin ne saurait faire oublier les baraques en tôle, l'effervescence quasi quotidienne de la violence conjugale, les mains dangereuses du marchand de glaces, les petits secrets qu'il faut dissimuler aux adultes, ou leurs grands secrets qu'il faut faire semblant de ne pas avoir surpris. Mais quand on se parle à soi-même, on peut avoir la langue bien pendue... A travers le réalisme d'une toute jeune fille, parfois même avec les mots de son parler natal, surgit sous nos yeux une description très colorée des mœurs et coutumes, des maux et des misères de la vie insulaire. Lesquels n'ôtent rien à la fierté de s'appeler Samoana - du nom même de son archipel. Ni au franc-parler de cette petite Zazie des antipodes !
198 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1929
About the author
Sia Figiel
11 books58 followersSia Figiel was born in 1967. Author of novels, plays, and poetry, she has traveled extensively in Europe and the Pacific Islands, and has had residencies at the University of Technology in Sydney, the East-West Center in Hawaii, the Pacific Writing Forum at the University of the South Pacific in Fiji, and Logoipulotu College in Savaii. She is also known as a performance poet and has appeared at several international literary festivals. Her first novel, where we once belonged, won the Commonwealth Writer’s Prize Best First Book for the Southeast Asia/South Pacic region. She lives in Samoa.
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October 25, 2015This book, by a Samoan author about the life of a young Samoan girl, will be best enjoyed by a local audience. It isn’t often that I find a book to be truly lost in translation – especially when that book was actually written in English (though with untranslated Samoan words sprinkled liberally throughout) – and I intend no criticism of the book simply because it isn’t written for me; it isn’t this author’s job to write books in an American style. That said, I wish I’d seen a review before choosing this book that had let me know it might not be the best choice for foreign readers. Now I see that all the other reviewers here have either lived in the Pacific or met the author personally, so likely had a different experience with it.
Figiel is apparently a performance poet, and this novella – comprising many short chapters in which the 10-year-old narrator observes various aspects of life in her community – is undoubtedly better in live performance. It deals with some heavy issues, and I can see why Samoan readers might connect deeply with it. For me though, it was rather frustrating. It jumps from one topic to the next without any consistent plot or focus. And the writing is extremely choppy and peppered with Samoan words, without a glossary. Here’s a sample:
Our house is big. With a bed and a sefe and the key Vaiese carries around her neck. Day and night. And doesn’t remove it. Ever. Even when she showers. Thieves she said. As she beat Moa and Logo up. For opening the pisupo. Which was to be for the old lady’s koagai. At the Women’s Committee. Le mafaufau ia o lua pogaua as she slapped and slapped their faces. And took the key away from under the left leg of the sefe. Where it was usually kept and only us girls knew about it. And hung it around her neck. You’re never ever ever gonna touch the key again. Ever. Ua lau faalogo mai?
We have four wooden chairs in the front. With a table which Soane made at carpenter class. Where all the Bibles are kept. Right below Jesus. All the women gather there to talk. To play suipi. To play poker.
We’re at the back during these meetings. Folding the laundry. Sweeping the floor. Listening to the women talk talk talk.
Folau says they should have koko alaisa at the next Women’s Committee bingo. That would attract the youth.
Pola says she’s thinking of buying a new teapot. The tea doesn’t taste good anymore.
Eseese says if it was up to her she would have never let Malia marry that lazy-useless-husband of hers. Ae kuaia ia leaga e leo sau kama.
If all that makes sense to you, go for it! As for me, I would have gotten more out of a different book.
Figiel is apparently a performance poet, and this novella – comprising many short chapters in which the 10-year-old narrator observes various aspects of life in her community – is undoubtedly better in live performance. It deals with some heavy issues, and I can see why Samoan readers might connect deeply with it. For me though, it was rather frustrating. It jumps from one topic to the next without any consistent plot or focus. And the writing is extremely choppy and peppered with Samoan words, without a glossary. Here’s a sample:
Our house is big. With a bed and a sefe and the key Vaiese carries around her neck. Day and night. And doesn’t remove it. Ever. Even when she showers. Thieves she said. As she beat Moa and Logo up. For opening the pisupo. Which was to be for the old lady’s koagai. At the Women’s Committee. Le mafaufau ia o lua pogaua as she slapped and slapped their faces. And took the key away from under the left leg of the sefe. Where it was usually kept and only us girls knew about it. And hung it around her neck. You’re never ever ever gonna touch the key again. Ever. Ua lau faalogo mai?
We have four wooden chairs in the front. With a table which Soane made at carpenter class. Where all the Bibles are kept. Right below Jesus. All the women gather there to talk. To play suipi. To play poker.
We’re at the back during these meetings. Folding the laundry. Sweeping the floor. Listening to the women talk talk talk.
Folau says they should have koko alaisa at the next Women’s Committee bingo. That would attract the youth.
Pola says she’s thinking of buying a new teapot. The tea doesn’t taste good anymore.
Eseese says if it was up to her she would have never let Malia marry that lazy-useless-husband of hers. Ae kuaia ia leaga e leo sau kama.
If all that makes sense to you, go for it! As for me, I would have gotten more out of a different book.
March 15, 2016
This book made me laugh, made me cry, made me irritated, made me angry, made me sad, made me remember my cheerful childhood, and made me wanting more. I love how Sia Figiel opens and ends the book with a children's song. The beginning made me remember my childhood when I was 6-10 years old (I'm not Samoan, but I grew up in American Samoa). Each page always left me eager to find out what happens next because the chapters are short and poem-like. I enjoyed reading this so much. I wrote my first book review on this just now. It's a bit unorganized, but oh well, it's not for homework so it's okay. Check it out if you have time, misspopularspoilers.wordpress.com.
July 9, 2026
I was looking forward to reading something from Samoa that wasn’t written by an external anthropologist like Margaret Mead or someone who worked there short term as an English teacher or other expat volunteer. The narrator in this is a ten- or eleven-year-old girl so it doesn’t cover all aspects. Even from a child’s point of view, it hardly tells us anything about school.
This book is quite difficult to read because of the amount of the Samoan language interspersed everywhere. However, if you just let it wash over you, there are a few words that recur so often that you will get a feeling for what they mean, even if you’re not 100% certain. I think there were one or two pages, probably poems, that I skipped completely because they were written entirely in Samoan. In the afterword, Sia Figiel explains that she writes her work to be performed and read out loud, which explains some of her stylistic choices, such as the many short sentences in some sections. It was interesting to learn that when she is performing to an audience in Samoa, she alters the language depending on the audience’s reaction. If they laugh at a line in Samoan, she will continue in Samoan. If they fail to react, she may change a line to English as she reads; quite a skill.
The book is partly written in the voice of a ten- or eleven-year-old girl, partly her as an adult looking back. This means she’s able to express the way a child interprets other people’s confusing behaviour, feel resentment at adults’ unfairness, and the importance of things that children find important. Away from adults the children are playful, but wild and violent, with petty arguments but also reconciliations and deep friendships. At home and at school, they have to behave better, or face the consequences.
The narrator is Samoana, who is named after her people, the sea people. Her grandmother tells her what it means, to make her feel proud. This is important because her family is poor and lives in one of Samoa’s less important (fictional) villages. It’s be of the things that later gives her the strength to stand up to the foreign teacher who shortens her name to Ana and the American mother of a girl whose mother tells her off and calls her Missy.
There are plenty of things in this book that are shocking. Samoana’s mother often yells at her children or hits them, but she has a difficult life, particularly because her husband often drinks away most of his wages on payday. Only once a year, when the Samoan national holiday comes around, does she collect his wages herself so she can make new clothes for her children.
More disturbing than that, there is the snow-cone man who preys on the pre-pubescent girls, squeezing their breasts in exchange for ice cream, as they don’t have the money to pay. With at least one of these friends, it goes further, though she seems to be a willing victim, resulting in a secret pregnancy and efforts to induce miscarriage, barely understood by Samoana at the time. The incident shocks her into becoming more defiant and sticking up for herself.
One of the images that stuck in my mind, shown on the front cover, is describing her breasts as like fish, which was an image Sia Figiel took from a famous author, possibly Maya Angelou; I can’t check as I no longer have the book. When I was trying to verify it, I came across the transcript of a broadcast with Doris Tulifau, another Samoan author who writes about sexual abuse, as well as Sia Fiegel. In this interview, Sia Fiegel talks about another of her books with a similar theme, Freelove. This is a term coined by anthropologist Margaret Mead, who published her research as Coming of Age in Samoa (still on my TBR). Fiegel says that outsiders misinterpret the way that older men reveal young girls’ burgeoning sexuality to them, acting as educators, not predators. https://www.sapiens.org/culture/samoa... This must create a feeling of guilt, given that the Christian church seems to play a large part in island life, and many children receive further education in countries such as America or New Zealand, where it is viewed as shameful , condemned as child abuse. In the USA, it would be deemed statutory rape. Nevertheless, both Figiel and activist and anthropologist Doris Tulifau address the issue with a mixture of shame and defiance rather than attempting to justify it. Figiel says that writing Freelove allowed her to put the conflicting accounts about Samoan sexual mores by Margaret Mead and Derek Freeman behind her and admit there are positives to the experience. She hints at that in The Girl in the Moon Circle as Samoana is already exploring her sexuality and obsessing about boys, or one particular one.
In conclusion, it’s a shame I had to rush this, but I’m not sure it needed more time. I read most of it carefully, only skimming the chapter with the legends and the interview at the end. The Sapiens interview with Sia Figiel I read afterwards actually makes her themes much clearer and was very enlightening. I think I missed that context while reading. I would have loved more description of life de in Samoa, but this obviously wasn’t what the author was aiming for. She has a mission to explain one widely misunderstood aspect of Samoan life, and I don’t feel she quite hit the mark with this book.
This book is quite difficult to read because of the amount of the Samoan language interspersed everywhere. However, if you just let it wash over you, there are a few words that recur so often that you will get a feeling for what they mean, even if you’re not 100% certain. I think there were one or two pages, probably poems, that I skipped completely because they were written entirely in Samoan. In the afterword, Sia Figiel explains that she writes her work to be performed and read out loud, which explains some of her stylistic choices, such as the many short sentences in some sections. It was interesting to learn that when she is performing to an audience in Samoa, she alters the language depending on the audience’s reaction. If they laugh at a line in Samoan, she will continue in Samoan. If they fail to react, she may change a line to English as she reads; quite a skill.
The book is partly written in the voice of a ten- or eleven-year-old girl, partly her as an adult looking back. This means she’s able to express the way a child interprets other people’s confusing behaviour, feel resentment at adults’ unfairness, and the importance of things that children find important. Away from adults the children are playful, but wild and violent, with petty arguments but also reconciliations and deep friendships. At home and at school, they have to behave better, or face the consequences.
The narrator is Samoana, who is named after her people, the sea people. Her grandmother tells her what it means, to make her feel proud. This is important because her family is poor and lives in one of Samoa’s less important (fictional) villages. It’s be of the things that later gives her the strength to stand up to the foreign teacher who shortens her name to Ana and the American mother of a girl whose mother tells her off and calls her Missy.
There are plenty of things in this book that are shocking. Samoana’s mother often yells at her children or hits them, but she has a difficult life, particularly because her husband often drinks away most of his wages on payday. Only once a year, when the Samoan national holiday comes around, does she collect his wages herself so she can make new clothes for her children.
More disturbing than that, there is the snow-cone man who preys on the pre-pubescent girls, squeezing their breasts in exchange for ice cream, as they don’t have the money to pay. With at least one of these friends, it goes further, though she seems to be a willing victim, resulting in a secret pregnancy and efforts to induce miscarriage, barely understood by Samoana at the time. The incident shocks her into becoming more defiant and sticking up for herself.
One of the images that stuck in my mind, shown on the front cover, is describing her breasts as like fish, which was an image Sia Figiel took from a famous author, possibly Maya Angelou; I can’t check as I no longer have the book. When I was trying to verify it, I came across the transcript of a broadcast with Doris Tulifau, another Samoan author who writes about sexual abuse, as well as Sia Fiegel. In this interview, Sia Fiegel talks about another of her books with a similar theme, Freelove. This is a term coined by anthropologist Margaret Mead, who published her research as Coming of Age in Samoa (still on my TBR). Fiegel says that outsiders misinterpret the way that older men reveal young girls’ burgeoning sexuality to them, acting as educators, not predators. https://www.sapiens.org/culture/samoa... This must create a feeling of guilt, given that the Christian church seems to play a large part in island life, and many children receive further education in countries such as America or New Zealand, where it is viewed as shameful , condemned as child abuse. In the USA, it would be deemed statutory rape. Nevertheless, both Figiel and activist and anthropologist Doris Tulifau address the issue with a mixture of shame and defiance rather than attempting to justify it. Figiel says that writing Freelove allowed her to put the conflicting accounts about Samoan sexual mores by Margaret Mead and Derek Freeman behind her and admit there are positives to the experience. She hints at that in The Girl in the Moon Circle as Samoana is already exploring her sexuality and obsessing about boys, or one particular one.
In conclusion, it’s a shame I had to rush this, but I’m not sure it needed more time. I read most of it carefully, only skimming the chapter with the legends and the interview at the end. The Sapiens interview with Sia Figiel I read afterwards actually makes her themes much clearer and was very enlightening. I think I missed that context while reading. I would have loved more description of life de in Samoa, but this obviously wasn’t what the author was aiming for. She has a mission to explain one widely misunderstood aspect of Samoan life, and I don’t feel she quite hit the mark with this book.
July 20, 2021
Born in 1967 in Matautu Tai, Upolu, Sia Figiel has pursuit her later education in New Zealand and in the United States of America. Her artistic expression through writing and painting has been highly recognised and awarded what enabled her to become a full time author (Benson & Conolly). In her second publication The Girl in The Moon Circle (1996) published soon after her first volume, the main protagonist Samoana Pili, also known as “Ana”, age of ten, lives in the fictional village of Malaefou and tells the story of the aggression and sexual abuse from adults that they experience. Samoan society is characterised by the tendency of collective approach in ways of narrative expression which favourites groups over individuals (Henderson 323). Samoan teenagers are encouraged to communicate as a part of this community even though the violations experienced by young people are their personal tragedy they suffer from alone. Therefore, as noticed by Wendy E. Cowling (29) “men are not always particularly estimable, while women have to be strong, and strong-willed, or they would not survive emotionally.” Sia Figiel raises these complexities by Samoana, who thinks of love as of the concept strictly related to being a member of the group with responsibilities towards its members:
And I felt sad for her because she was not living. But rather existing. And a sad existence at that because I didn’t feel like she did anything with love. Alofa. The virtue that makes you forget about you and you think of others first. (12).
Through the collection of Samoana’s memories which refer to incest, domestic violence, rape, alcoholism, and abuse, we learn the power of strength between the sisters and the sentimental affection she has towards her father. We see how attached she is too her culture, represented by Faga, the grandmother. The experience of brutality and Tufa’s miscarriage teach her to become stronger and resilient.
Cowling, Wendy E. “Island Lives: The Writing of Sia Figiel (Samoa) and Celestine Hitiura Vaite (Tahiti).” Junctures: The Journal for Thematic Dialogue, vol. 6, no. 12, 2009, pp. 29-41.
Figiel, Sia. The Girl in The Moon Circle. Mana Publications, 1996.
Henderson, April K. “The I and The We: Individuality, Collectivity, and Samoan Artistic Responses to Cultural Change.” The Contemporary Pacific, vol. 28, no. 2, 2016, pp. 316-345.
Teaiwa, Teresia K. "Figiel, Sia (1967-).” Encyclopedia of Post-Colonial Literatures in English, edited by Eugene Benson, and L. W. Conolly, Routledge, 2nd edition, 2005.
And I felt sad for her because she was not living. But rather existing. And a sad existence at that because I didn’t feel like she did anything with love. Alofa. The virtue that makes you forget about you and you think of others first. (12).
Through the collection of Samoana’s memories which refer to incest, domestic violence, rape, alcoholism, and abuse, we learn the power of strength between the sisters and the sentimental affection she has towards her father. We see how attached she is too her culture, represented by Faga, the grandmother. The experience of brutality and Tufa’s miscarriage teach her to become stronger and resilient.
Cowling, Wendy E. “Island Lives: The Writing of Sia Figiel (Samoa) and Celestine Hitiura Vaite (Tahiti).” Junctures: The Journal for Thematic Dialogue, vol. 6, no. 12, 2009, pp. 29-41.
Figiel, Sia. The Girl in The Moon Circle. Mana Publications, 1996.
Henderson, April K. “The I and The We: Individuality, Collectivity, and Samoan Artistic Responses to Cultural Change.” The Contemporary Pacific, vol. 28, no. 2, 2016, pp. 316-345.
Teaiwa, Teresia K. "Figiel, Sia (1967-).” Encyclopedia of Post-Colonial Literatures in English, edited by Eugene Benson, and L. W. Conolly, Routledge, 2nd edition, 2005.
August 15, 2025
Libro leído en castellano con el nombre La muchacha en el círculo de la luna (Narrativa), que no aparece como otra de las ediciones de este libro, sino como un libro diferente.
Samoana, de diez años, cuenta una serie de episodios vividos, como si fuera un Diario personal. Y a través de ellos, presenta de manera muy ilustrativa, la vida, la forma de sentir y pensar, y las acciones de la población del ficticio de Malaefou, aparentemente a cierta distancia de Apia, capital de Samoa.
Se muestra, como en muchos culturas, un sincretismo entre el cristianismo y aspectos de las religiones tradicionales, con la Tierra como la madre de la humanidad, y una serie de tabúes y prácticas para contar con la benevolencia de los dioses, o evitar la mala suerte. También se atraviesa, desde su perspectiva, el tema de la muerte y el destino de los muertos, la fertilidad, el sexo, la diferencia entre varones y mujeres, temas universales de las culturas.
Y no elude la cotidianeidad de la vida familiar, con un padre que se gasta el sueldo bebiendo con amigos en la taberna, para la furia de la madre; y Samoana que igual lo quiere mucho, porque es irresponsable pero es un hombre bueno y afectuoso. Su relación de amor-odio con su hermana mayor, ya adolescente, que muchas veces la espanta cuando Samoana quiere pasar el tiempo con estas niñas mayores, y otras veces, afectuosa, la invita. Y también las otras familias, todas similares, pero cada una con sus particularidades. Y su amistad especial con Tupu, hermanas de sangre.
La lluvia y el juego de los niños, y una forma de poesía, que, creo, sobrevivió bien la traducción.
No importa cuánto podamos los niños disfrutar de la lluvia.
No importa cuánto podamos los niños disfrutar.
No importa cuánto podamos los niños.
No importa cuánto podamos.
No importa cuánto.
No importa.
No.
Le lectura requiere sumergirse en su forma de ver el mundo, lo cual incluye frecuentes palabras o frases de samoano, muchas de las cuales se intuyen por el contexto (con muchas referencia a alimentos que no me interesa mucho); para las otras, opté por suponer de que se trataban, y no interfirió en mi comprensión de la historia. También se puede recurrir al traductor de Google, que incluye el samoano, y tal vez se perciba un matiz que me he perdido.
Una buena novela, muy ilustrativa sobre modos de vida muy ajenos, pero por otra parte muy próximos.
Samoana, de diez años, cuenta una serie de episodios vividos, como si fuera un Diario personal. Y a través de ellos, presenta de manera muy ilustrativa, la vida, la forma de sentir y pensar, y las acciones de la población del ficticio de Malaefou, aparentemente a cierta distancia de Apia, capital de Samoa.
Se muestra, como en muchos culturas, un sincretismo entre el cristianismo y aspectos de las religiones tradicionales, con la Tierra como la madre de la humanidad, y una serie de tabúes y prácticas para contar con la benevolencia de los dioses, o evitar la mala suerte. También se atraviesa, desde su perspectiva, el tema de la muerte y el destino de los muertos, la fertilidad, el sexo, la diferencia entre varones y mujeres, temas universales de las culturas.
Y no elude la cotidianeidad de la vida familiar, con un padre que se gasta el sueldo bebiendo con amigos en la taberna, para la furia de la madre; y Samoana que igual lo quiere mucho, porque es irresponsable pero es un hombre bueno y afectuoso. Su relación de amor-odio con su hermana mayor, ya adolescente, que muchas veces la espanta cuando Samoana quiere pasar el tiempo con estas niñas mayores, y otras veces, afectuosa, la invita. Y también las otras familias, todas similares, pero cada una con sus particularidades. Y su amistad especial con Tupu, hermanas de sangre.
La lluvia y el juego de los niños, y una forma de poesía, que, creo, sobrevivió bien la traducción.
No importa cuánto podamos los niños disfrutar de la lluvia.
No importa cuánto podamos los niños disfrutar.
No importa cuánto podamos los niños.
No importa cuánto podamos.
No importa cuánto.
No importa.
No.
Le lectura requiere sumergirse en su forma de ver el mundo, lo cual incluye frecuentes palabras o frases de samoano, muchas de las cuales se intuyen por el contexto (con muchas referencia a alimentos que no me interesa mucho); para las otras, opté por suponer de que se trataban, y no interfirió en mi comprensión de la historia. También se puede recurrir al traductor de Google, que incluye el samoano, y tal vez se perciba un matiz que me he perdido.
Una buena novela, muy ilustrativa sobre modos de vida muy ajenos, pero por otra parte muy próximos.
February 28, 2018
This book is a tale about a 10 year old girl, Samoana, and her childhood in Samoa. It's part poem, part prose, part mythology, and part native song, with Western commercialism thrown in for good measure. It's both spiritual and physical, evoking symbolism found in the natural world to explore a childhood filled with awe, violence, incest, love, hatred, and rebellion against religion. The book explores the clash and intermingling of Samoan and Western cultures as seen through the eyes of an innocent child trying to understand the world.
The story is told in a non-linear way, in vignettes that are prose fragments, songs and poems. English sentences are interspersed with Samoan phrases and words; at first I found this very confusing and difficult to get through. Imagine reading something where every few sentences something is thrown in that completely eludes you. At first I found this really annoying and off putting, but eventually I got used to it and actually enjoyed it. According to an interview with the author at the end: "Because the work is deliberately written for performance, I say every sentence out loud before I write it on the page. Every word is necessary."
An example: "Our House": "Is shaped like that. With thatch in the front. And tin in the back. Lizards crawl between the thatch. So do cockroaches and moons."
In one piece called "Cricket": "We get all excited when we know there's going to be a kilikiki. And talk about it for weeks before it even happens. And talk about it longer. When everyone has gone. And it was the only time in our lives. When we actually had fun doing chores. Picking up all the dried mosooi blooms. The dried auke blooms. Coconut cups. The cigarette butts."
And in "Listen": "Then said this was truly the happiest day of her life. So much so that she donated the pot of koko alaisa to the faifeu.... And said out loud fia lelei ia i le faifeau!"
So it is. It is more like poetic prose, or prosaic poetry, or a dream told in vignettes. Interesting window on an unincorporated territory of the U.S.A., one of which I had little knowledge; now I have a glimpse, and curiosity.
The story is told in a non-linear way, in vignettes that are prose fragments, songs and poems. English sentences are interspersed with Samoan phrases and words; at first I found this very confusing and difficult to get through. Imagine reading something where every few sentences something is thrown in that completely eludes you. At first I found this really annoying and off putting, but eventually I got used to it and actually enjoyed it. According to an interview with the author at the end: "Because the work is deliberately written for performance, I say every sentence out loud before I write it on the page. Every word is necessary."
An example: "Our House": "Is shaped like that. With thatch in the front. And tin in the back. Lizards crawl between the thatch. So do cockroaches and moons."
In one piece called "Cricket": "We get all excited when we know there's going to be a kilikiki. And talk about it for weeks before it even happens. And talk about it longer. When everyone has gone. And it was the only time in our lives. When we actually had fun doing chores. Picking up all the dried mosooi blooms. The dried auke blooms. Coconut cups. The cigarette butts."
And in "Listen": "Then said this was truly the happiest day of her life. So much so that she donated the pot of koko alaisa to the faifeu.... And said out loud fia lelei ia i le faifeau!"
So it is. It is more like poetic prose, or prosaic poetry, or a dream told in vignettes. Interesting window on an unincorporated territory of the U.S.A., one of which I had little knowledge; now I have a glimpse, and curiosity.
May 27, 2018
Pas mal, dépaysant - l'histoire se passe dans les îles Samoa, un pays dont on entend peu parler, c'est intéressant d'en découvrir un petit bout, même si c'est un petit bout assez violent, avec aussi un coup d'oeil sur des questions assez universelles de passage de l'enfance à l'adolescence - les deux imbriqués, ça marche vraiment bien, ça percute.
Mais pourquoi, pourquoi les phrases et mots en samoan n'ont-ils pas été traduits pour les non samoanphone (?)? Je trouve que ça fait un peu beaucoup "ajoutons un peu d'authenticité en gardant le texte original". Authenticité mes fesses, ça fait juste qu'on loupe une partie de l'histoire et ça m'énerve ("les lecteurs vont rien comprendre mais on s'en fout, ça fait au-then-tique"). Même un glossaire en fin de livre m'aurait suffi! J'imagine que l'auteur (Samoane) a rédigé intentionnellement son texte en mélange anglais et samoan non traduit, et je veux bien respecter les choix de l'auteur, mais là c'est trop pour moi - et je n'en comprends tout simplement pas l'objectif.
Et puis ce genre d'écriture, avec des phrases découpées par petits bouts, avec des points. Partout. Ça m'agace. Au possible. La ponctuation existe pour de bonnes raisons, zut quoi. Là aussi, certainement, l'auteur recherchait un truc particulier avec cette ponctuation reloue, mais je n'apprécie pas. Du tout.
Mais pourquoi, pourquoi les phrases et mots en samoan n'ont-ils pas été traduits pour les non samoanphone (?)? Je trouve que ça fait un peu beaucoup "ajoutons un peu d'authenticité en gardant le texte original". Authenticité mes fesses, ça fait juste qu'on loupe une partie de l'histoire et ça m'énerve ("les lecteurs vont rien comprendre mais on s'en fout, ça fait au-then-tique"). Même un glossaire en fin de livre m'aurait suffi! J'imagine que l'auteur (Samoane) a rédigé intentionnellement son texte en mélange anglais et samoan non traduit, et je veux bien respecter les choix de l'auteur, mais là c'est trop pour moi - et je n'en comprends tout simplement pas l'objectif.
Et puis ce genre d'écriture, avec des phrases découpées par petits bouts, avec des points. Partout. Ça m'agace. Au possible. La ponctuation existe pour de bonnes raisons, zut quoi. Là aussi, certainement, l'auteur recherchait un truc particulier avec cette ponctuation reloue, mais je n'apprécie pas. Du tout.
January 25, 2021
This book made me reflect a lot on my past experience as an exchange student in Samoa. This book took my back to the year I lived in the pacific and evoked feelings of grief, wonder, depression, curiosity, and empathy towards the characters and their all too true to heart stories. I had to put the book down a couple of times because I was reminded of not so happy memories but I persevered through despite the fragile emotional state the memories brought me to.
I will hold this book near and true to my heart. Although I studied some Sāmoan, many of the Sāmoan sentences o terraced within the passages confused me as I did not understand every word but rather recognized a few.
Does someone want to have a discussion with me about the “My Breasts” chapter (of 41-44)? I have an idea of what happened but I’m not entirely sure.
This books is very sad. Prepare to be sad if you read it but also opened to a whole new world.
I will hold this book near and true to my heart. Although I studied some Sāmoan, many of the Sāmoan sentences o terraced within the passages confused me as I did not understand every word but rather recognized a few.
Does someone want to have a discussion with me about the “My Breasts” chapter (of 41-44)? I have an idea of what happened but I’m not entirely sure.
This books is very sad. Prepare to be sad if you read it but also opened to a whole new world.
November 8, 2021
4.5 stars
I really enjoyed this book, but it was a bit confusing to read since I don't understand the Samoan language. I could connect some words with the context around it, but for the most part I was lost. I've seen people saying that the original version was in Samoan, so it must be much better than the English version.
I found the book very relatable even if I had never been to Samoa or know anyone who is Samoan. I admire Samoana's growth near the end of the book, though the circumstances that forced her to need that strength were really upsetting. I also admired her friendships, especially her friendship with Tupu.
I really enjoyed this book, but it was a bit confusing to read since I don't understand the Samoan language. I could connect some words with the context around it, but for the most part I was lost. I've seen people saying that the original version was in Samoan, so it must be much better than the English version.
I found the book very relatable even if I had never been to Samoa or know anyone who is Samoan. I admire Samoana's growth near the end of the book, though the circumstances that forced her to need that strength were really upsetting. I also admired her friendships, especially her friendship with Tupu.
January 6, 2023
This book gives the reader insight into Samoan society, especially the darker aspects as experienced by women. It’s deep but its style makes it difficult to read, not only because a lot of Samoan is used often without explanation, but also because many of the characters are introduced in a vague manner without a clear plot to start with; just fragments.
May 8, 2026
Immerses you in a bildungsroman where the bones of your ancestors and the fabric of your clothing frame your experience. A book of the senses, very vivid, very much about girlhood within the voice of living as a Samoan. Read while studying at U of Auckland, in a Children's Literature course, in the late 90s.
March 29, 2019
A decent read for my AtW challenge (Samoa). Although the protagonist is 10 years old, I think the book is written for an older audience. In addition, I could definitely see how the prose - though not always smooth - was designed to be orally performed.
December 15, 2019
[#136 Samoa] This book was hard to get into, I didn't really like the writing style (or maybe the translation choices?). It was just not for me.
April 12, 2020
A glossary would have been more helpful than Google translate. Still a great read.
June 20, 2021
So much truth and honesty I absolutely enjoyed it 🥰
June 8, 2007
Sia Fiegal came to my school years ago and did a talk and man, did it go down well - she was the best speaker and had the audience in hysterics the whole time. As a result, this book was constantly checked out from the school library, which was pretty rare since hardly anyone read volunteerily. It's about a ten year old girl in Samoa (semi autobiographical) and is totally amazing and I recommend it to all my overseas pals, because I don't know many people outside of New Zealand who know this fine author.
November 2, 2011
The book that showed me what is possible when a Samoan woman has the courage and creativity to write - with truth, humor and honesty. Funny, sad, cutting, pivotal insight. I use this book with my students in my English classes. Highly recommend this one.
June 8, 2007
Loved this book. Made me laugh awoia malo Sia!
January 4, 2008
An intersting story about life in Western Samoa (small Pacific Island country where I studied abroad.
January 17, 2009
Wonderful portrayal of life of a Samoan girl. Also, I have met Sia-- her readings of this book were so powerful. Try reading it aloud.
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