Algeria, interior country

22.02.2327.09.21 from Kai Nonnenmacher

This article is written in German. Automatic translations:

In her second novel, Lilia Hassaine explores the integration (or exclusion) of first-generation Algerian immigrants into French society between the early 1960s and the late 1980s. In the late 1950s, Naja raises her three daughters alone in the Aurès region of Algeria after her husband, Saïd, is recruited to work in France. A few years later, having become a skilled worker, he manages to bring his family to the Paris region. Naja becomes pregnant, but their circumstances prevent the couple from keeping the child. Hassaine dedicated the novel to her mother, and it is also a tribute to Algerian women, without shying away from sensitive issues: the anti-racist posturing of some on the French "caviar" left, ghettoization, sexism, and drug abuse.

The Algerian War remains a point of reference in the collective memory of both Algerians and French people. This is how Guillaume Chérel titles his article. Humanity his book review: "La guerre d'Algérie, la mémoire et le présent" and places the gallery of individual characters in the tradition of the Russian novel: "Le début du roman est prenant. La plume de Lilia Hassaine est sensuelle, poétique, voire drôle. Elle décrit l'amitié féminine, les gynécées, où l'on s'ouvre enfin et parle de tout (les enfants préférés, la violence masculine, la sexualité taboue dans la culture musulmane… Puis elle évoque Saïd, tombé dans l'alcoolisme à cause de la charge de travail et la nostalgie du pays, son frère, Kader, qui a la chance de se cultiver, notamment grace à Ève, férue de littérature. Elle se lance ensuite dans la description d'une galerie de personnages, comme dans un roman russe.” ¹ The review also notes with irritation that the author has written books such as Faïza Guène (Get weed, get weed tomorrow, 2004) or Magyd Cherfi (Ma part de Gaulois, 2016) or Guillaume Chérel (Les Enfants rougesHad the 2001 report been better received, sensitivities surrounding this issue remain open. Elisabeth Philippe in The Obs In a review article, he puts forward the thesis that, after a long period of silence, more and more writers are now reporting on the lives of men and women who came to France from Morocco or Algeria after colonization. ² Their examples are:

Mehdi Charef La Cité de mon père at Hors d'atteinte,
Kaoutar Harchi, As we exist at Actes Sud,
Nedjma Kacimi, Sensitive at Cambourakis and also
Lilia Hassaine, Sunlight at Gallimard.

L'Algérie m'avait souvent visité. Elle était entrée dans mon cœur et y avait planté ses vivaces et insoumises, capable de pousser sur la rocaille ou dans le sable. C'était mon pays interior, il me suffisait de fermer les yeux pour le retrouver: il ya tant de vérités dans ce qu'on invente. Je connaissais déjà le vent des Oliviers, celui qui laisse la mer en paix mais secoue les villages, arrache les citronniers, déracine les cyprès, balaye la valériane. Ce vent, c'était l'idée intimate que je me faisais de cette terre, marasme de sentiments qui s'affrontent, sans jamais s'annuler. The Algérie était pour my this amante unsupportable, de celle qu'on aimerait quitter, mais sans laquelle on ne peut vivre. On fantasy son mystère, elle est orientale l'Algérie, elle a la noblesse de la Rome antique et le sang des barbares, le rire des Andalouses, la musique des Touaregs. Elle a la nostalgie facile, this manner of regarder vers le passé, pour ne pas s'inquiéter de l'avenir. This can be found in a cell that can be reassembled in France. The children of immigrants are in exile and in confinement. On the perfusés à la melancolie.
Lilia Hassaine, Sunlight

Algeria had often haunted me. It had invaded my heart and planted its robust and rebellious plants there, plants that could grow on rock or in sand. It was my inner land; it was enough to close my eyes to rediscover it: there are so many truths in what we invent. I already knew the wind of the olive trees, which leaves the sea in peace but shakes the villages, uproots the lemon trees, tears down the cypresses, and carries away the valerian. This wind was my personal image of this land, a weather front of emotions that collide without ever canceling each other out. Algeria was for me that unbearable lover we would gladly leave, but without whom we cannot live. Algeria is oriental; it has the nobility of ancient Rome and the blood of the barbarians, the laughter of the Andalusians, the music of the Tuareg, and we rave about its mystery. There's something slightly nostalgic about this way of looking to the past and not worrying about the future. Perhaps that's why it's so similar to France. The children of immigrants carry both exile and roots within them. They are imbued with melancholy.

Lilia Hassaine emphasizes in the interview in The Obs, it is not a book about Algeria, but a novel about France and, above all, an attempt at reappropriation: "J'ai un lien lointain avec l'Algérie, mais j'ai éprouvé le besoin de comprendre this histoire à laquelle je me sentais étrangère et j'ai écrit ce livre afin de me la réappropriation." ³ The furious Nour in Sunlight This story of alienation is vividly portrayed:

Nour était la plus jolie fille du lycée. The cheveux longs are just pure and the yeux d'un bleu qui n'existe pas, un bleu profond, presque noir. Elle n'aimait pas beautifull'école, ce n'était pas son truc, contrary to Sonia et Amir. Elle n'avait pas de mauvais résultats, mais souvent, les professeurs l'épinglaient pour son insolence. Dans son cœur, elle ressentait une colère sourde, une colère qui ne demandait qu'à éclater, qu'à rugir. C'était ça, la noirceur dans ses yeux. Ce père qui courbait l'échine au travail, dans la rue, intimate l'ordre à chacun de ses enfants de ne jamais faire de bruit, de ne surtout pas se faire remarquer, de ne pas leur faire honte, de raser les murs. The maîtrisait toutes les occurrences du champion lexical de la discretion. Les peurs de son père, the soumission de sa mère, elle avail tout cela en horreur. Elle n'était pas French, car elle était née en Algérie. If you are in French, Amir is not there, in the countries that are available to you. Elle disait qu'il n'y avait rien de pire qu'aimer sans être aimé. Sonia is aiming for France and wants to return? Elle avait étudié, eu les meilleures notes, son bachot haut la main, on avait fait une fête ce jour-là, et aujourd'hui, elle ne trouvait pas de travail, comme un million d'autres chômeurs, on l'avait dit au journal télévisé, comme le mari de Nora, Ahmed, who has constructed a car route at the price of his health, can continue his journey with small advertisements in the journal.
Lilia Hassaine, Sunlight

Nour was the prettiest girl in school. She had long hair that reached her kidneys and eyes of an unreal blue, a deep blue, almost black. She didn't particularly like school; it wasn't for her, unlike Sonia and Amir. She didn't get bad grades, but she was often reprimanded by the teachers for her cheekiness. In her heart, she felt a dull rage, a rage that simply wanted to burst forth, to roar. That was the darkness in her eyes. This father, who at work, on the street, kept his head down and ordered each of his children not to make a noise, not to draw attention to themselves, not to be ashamed, not to leave the walls. He mastered the lexical field of discretion in every respect. Her father's anxieties, her mother's subservience—she loathed it all. She wasn't French, for she had been born in Algeria. The only one who was French was Amir, because he was born here, in this country she was afraid to love. She said there was nothing worse than loving without being loved in return. Sonia had loved France, and what had she gotten for it? She had studied, gotten top marks, passed her A-levels with flying colors, they had celebrated with a party that day, and today she couldn't find a job, like a million other unemployed people, they had heard on the news, like Nora's husband Ahmed, who had built a highway at the cost of his health, but who still leafed through the classifieds in the newspaper every morning.

Reference / Citation suggestion

Nonnenmacher, Kai. "Algeria, Inland." Rentrée littéraire: contemporary French literature. 2021. Accessed on May 12, 2026 at 21:15. https://rentree.de/2021/09/27/algerien-inneres-land/.

This article is written in German and can be found at https://rentree.de. Automatic translations into English and French are available. English, French.

Kai Nonnenmacher

Otto-Friedrich-Universität Bamberg | Contact

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Notes

"The beginning of the novel is captivating. Lilia Hassaine's writing is sensual, poetic, and even witty. She describes female friendships, gynecological gatherings where women finally open up and talk about everything (favorite children, male violence, taboo sexuality in Muslim culture...). Then she tells the story of Saïd, who has succumbed to alcoholism due to his workload and longing for his homeland, and of her brother Kader, who has the opportunity to educate himself, primarily thanks to the literature-loving Eve. She then presents a gallery of characters, much like in a Russian novel.">>>
"De plus en plus d'écrivains racontent la vie des hommes et des femmes arrivés en France du Maroc ou d'Algérie, après la colonisation. Des destins que la littérature a longtemps tus", Elisabeth Philippe, "Kaoutar Harchi, Lilia Hassaine, Nedjma Kacimi… une contre-histoire littéraire de l'immigration", The Obs, 25. September 2021.>>>
“I have a distant connection to Algeria, but I felt the need to understand this history from which I felt alienated, and I wrote this book to reclaim it,” Elisabeth Philippe, “Kaoutar Harchi, Lilia Hassaine, Nedjma Kacimi… une contre-histoire littéraire de l’immigration” The Obs, 25. September 2021. >>>

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Kai Nonnenmacher

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