Partnership and violence in the novel: Nathacha Appanah

The novel as violentometer

The title The night in the heart (2025) of Nathacha Appanah's new novel reflects the central themes of violence, fear, isolation, trauma, but also resistance and the search for meaning and memory. The novel's structure is divided into five parts, alternating between the author's personal, autofictional narrative and the reconstructed fates of Emma and Chahinez, with an "imaginary chamber" serving as a space for encounter and reflection. The novel deconstructs femicides not as isolated incidents, but as expressions of a deeply entrenched patriarchal system that spans cultures and eras. It sharply criticizes patriarchal societies, particularly in Algeria and Mauritius, where women face stigmatization upon divorce and their autonomy is restricted. The parallel narratives of the three women—one survivor and two victims—underscore the universal danger women face and the chilling similarities in perpetrator profiles and patterns of violence (control, jealousy, isolation, physical and psychological abuse).

The night in the heart The novel dissects the mechanisms of "emprise," beginning with subtle manipulation, flattery, and isolation ("groomed") and progressing to overt violence and physical enslavement. It shows how perpetrators systematically cut their victims off from their social environment, undermine their self-esteem, and distort their perception of reality. The "violentomètre" is explicitly introduced as a tool for categorizing these behaviors, illustrating the gradual yet relentless escalation of violence. At the very beginning of the book, Appanah creates an "imaginary space" or "imaginary chamber." In this space, she gathers the three perpetrators—the bricklayer MB, the chauffeur RD, and the journalist and poet HC (her own tormentor). This space allows the author to control the narrative, reverse the roles, and become the "little executioner" herself, in order to "exercise the power of control and fascination" and "demand listening and silence." This is a direct attempt to regain control over the traumatic events that were taken from her in real life. In this "glass space," there is "no room for psychologizing explanations" that merely serve to exonerate the guilty and strip victims of their identity. Instead, the perpetrators are meant to be "speechless" and "at the mercy of history." This stance is a clear result of her personal experiences and her desire to portray the violence unfiltered. Although she describes the perpetrators as not "all bad" and hints at the possibility of subtle nuances, she firmly resists the temptation to relativize or psychologically explain their actions. The detailed descriptions of MB, RD, and HC at the beginning serve to make their behavior later appear "unthinkable" by unmasking seemingly ordinary people as perpetrators.

The author addresses the reader directly, making her personal involvement clear. She reflects on her writing process and her motivation. The fictional space she creates in her mind allows her to gather the perpetrators and gain control over the narrative. Here, she can "demand listening and silence" and rejects "psychologizing explanations" that might exonerate the perpetrators. This is a symbolic form of communication in which the author reverses the power dynamic. The author tells her own story in the first person, but switches to the third person when speaking about Emma and Chahinez to demonstrate both distance and deep empathy. In doing so, she transforms personal experience into a collective narrative. The text integrates newspaper articles, reports, testimonies from friends and family, and even reflections on a "violence meter" to illustrate the complexity of the violence and the failure of society. HC's conscious silence about her own trauma of sexual violence ("la chose") becomes an act of self-empowerment and resistance at the end of the novel. The author observes that some things must remain "without words" in order to be bearable. The speechlessness in the face of the horror of Chahinez's corpse at the start of the trial is also a powerful statement. Smells, sounds, physical sensations, and body language often convey more than words. The fear, the trembling, the breathlessness, the perpetrators' smells—all of this is described in detail and creates an immediate emotional response.

Nathacha Appanah's central concern is to explore the "unbearable enigma of marital femicide" and to reveal "when the black night takes the place of love." It is about understanding the mechanisms that lead to this extreme form of violence. The narrator strives for a "desperate search for justice" that is "as close as possible to life, to the night, to the heart, to the body, to the mind." She wants to tell the women's stories, "to look at them, to weigh them, to compare them, to place them side by side, well protected in this book." The author, however, rejects "psychologizing explanations" for the perpetrators, as these only serve "to exonerate the guilty, to awaken empathy, and to erase their victims." The book is meant to "surrender history" to the perpetrators and "silence" them. The book is meant to illuminate "violence and control in a relationship" and "cultural imprisonment." It shows how violence “disintegrates piece by piece,” how mind, heart, and body break, and how the perpetrator erases the victim’s identity. By depicting “dysfunctions” within the police and justice system, as well as the “infantilizing” and stereotypical media coverage, the book also aims to highlight systemic flaws. Appanah exposes how both traditional societal norms (shame, honor, patriarchal structures) and modern institutions (police, justice system, social services) fail victims of violence and often contribute to a reversal of perpetrator and victim roles. The detailed account of Chahinez’s failed attempts to find protection is an indictment of the bureaucratic and human failings that enable femicides. The portrayal of the media's reception of Chahinez’s death criticizes the tendency to infantilize and stereotype victims.

By describing "what happens afterward, imperceptible to others," the narrator primarily aims to make visible the silent suffering and hidden resilience of the survivors. She repeatedly questions whether writing and literature "serve any purpose" in the face of the cruelty of reality, a question that underscores the book's profound self-reflection.

The narrator's personal commitment is reflected in a fragmented, non-linear, and spiraling narrative structure: the book "weaves together three stories of women who have been victims of violence by their partners." These stories are not linked chronologically, but thematically and emotionally, often through the recurring metaphor of running or night. The narrator jumps back and forth in time, intertwining her own memories with the stories of Emma and Chahinez. This reflects the workings of trauma and memory, which are often present not linearly, but in fragments and overwhelming flashbacks. The narrator explicitly describes her working process as a "spiral" in which she slowly and cautiously approaches the "center," the core of the violence and the truth, without heading directly for it. This allows her to explore the subject from different perspectives, to research, and to weave in personal reflections before delving into the rawest details.

Essentially, the title connects the dark reality of violence ("La nuit" – the night) with the innermost experience of the women affected ("au cœur" – in their hearts). The "night" symbolizes the actual hours of darkness when women are most vulnerable to abuse and femicide. It is described as a "black and merciless hour" in which the woman experiences terrible fear, and the loneliness of the night echoes with the looming threat of the persecutor. The "dense and opaque night" is perceived as something physical and harsh, in which death is near and dawn never comes. The "night" is not limited to mere hours but represents the years of psychological and physical captivity under the perpetrator's control. These years are explicitly described as "long, elastic, and dripping nights" in which the boundary between reality and fantasy blurs and faces become monstrous masks. It is the time when the men "lurked in the bushes" or watched the women sleep, creating a feeling of extreme vulnerability and constant threat. The night is also portrayed as an unpredictable abyss. Night also represents the women's enforced isolation from friends and family, the hidden nature of domestic violence, and the feeling of being unseen or unheard by society. The narrator describes how her life under HC became a "secret and black life" in which she was isolated.

The “heart” represents the women’s deepest emotions, memories, and inner lives. Here, they grapple with their fears, grief, and hopes. The author speaks of “hearts that fight.” The heart is physically described as an “exploding grenade” or “oversized, swollen, heavy” that occupies the entire body and beats slowly with a dull thump—a symbol of the overwhelming fear and deep-seated effects of the violence. The pain is often so profound that it feels like “a large, cold hand pressing down on the heart.” Despite all the violence, the “heart” preserves the women’s inner strength, their resistance to total subjugation, and their dignity. Chahinez’s refusal to hand over her phone is a symbolic act to protect her “heart,” her dignity, and her privacy. The title also suggests that "the black night takes the place of love," highlighting the profoundly destructive nature of intimate violence, where what should offer love and security becomes a source of fear and suffering. Love is replaced by manipulative techniques ("groomed") that purify the victim of themselves.

Thus, it can be said that The night in the heart The title depicts the profound and pervasive nature of violence against women. It underscores that the darkness, fear, and suffering are not merely external events, but penetrate to the very core of a woman's being—her emotions, her memories, her identity. It highlights the intimate betrayal when the place where love should reside is swallowed up by terror. At the same time, however, the title also holds the promise of resilience, the "fighting of hearts," and the possibility of finding strength and a voice even from this profound darkness. The narrator herself emphasizes that she has found a way "to emerge from the night," implying the overcoming of trauma and the reclaiming of her own voice. The title is thus a powerful image for the inner landscape of survivors and the ongoing struggle with the deep wounds inflicted by violence.

The narrator identifies herself as the first of the three women, stating, "This woman, that's me." This direct self-identification immediately anchors her story within the narratives of the other women and lends the book an undeniable authenticity. She feels a deep connection to Emma and Chahinez, having experienced the fear and the feeling of being hunted herself. She feels she "could have been in their place" and is "with them." The narrator conducts intensive research, reviewing newspaper articles and television reports, contacting the families' lawyers, and even traveling to the sites of the events. This demonstrates her commitment to reconstructing the truth as accurately as possible. The narrator critically examines her own perceptions and past naiveté. She is aware of her "fragility" and the "shame" that the trauma brings with it.

The author creates an “imaginary space” for the three male perpetrators, bringing them together and controlling the events within it. This is a direct intervention in the narrative structure, reversing the power dynamics of real life and giving the narrator control over the narrative of violence. Certain events, particularly her own experience of sexual violence, are described in euphemisms for a long time and only directly confronted at the end of the book, when the narrator, strengthened by writing about the other women's stories, is confronted with them. This “matter” is not fully recounted, as “silence gives her strength,” thus highlighting the limitations of the narrative. The portrayal of the perpetrators through the “behaviors of a shark” in the section “Habitudes comportementales” is a method to objectify and depersonalize the systematic nature of the violence, while simultaneously emphasizing the brutal efficiency of the perpetrators' strategies. The inclusion of court transcripts, newspaper articles, and witness statements in the narrative intertwines literary fiction with documentary reality to underscore the “justice” of the portrayal.

The three women: Nathacha, Emma, ​​Chahinez

The author recounts her own traumatic experience when, at seventeen, she entered into a relationship with HC, a journalist and poet thirty years her senior. She describes how she was manipulated and isolated through grooming tactics, leaving her family and friends behind and becoming trapped in a toxic relationship marked by psychological and physical abuse. Her body and mind were domesticated and enslaved, and she experienced sexual assault. After six years, at the age of twenty-five, she escapes this "night in her heart" and returns to her parents, scarred by the experience but alive. The return is a difficult process of rebuilding and confronting her past, which she had long repressed as a "bad experience." HC's death many years later triggers a complex mix of emotions and a reckoning with his ambivalent legacy.

In December 2000, Emma was murdered in Mauritius by her husband, RD, a government driver. While she was trying to escape him, he ran her over with his car. RD attempted to cover up the murder as an accident by putting her sneakers on her feet incorrectly. Emma was a modern, enterprising woman who wanted to start a catering business and had to endure her husband's jealousy and gambling addiction. Out of shame, her family remained silent about the circumstances of her death, and Emma was publicly vilified as an unfaithful wife, which RD used as a mitigating circumstance. RD was released after serving twelve years in prison and later set fire to the house where they had lived.

In May 2021, Chahinez Daoud was murdered in Mérignac, France, by her ex-husband MB, a bricklayer. MB was a controlling, jealous, and violent man who, among other things, blackmailed Chahinez by threatening to bring her eldest son, Hicham, from Algeria to France. Chahinez made several attempts to leave him and filed a police report, but the system tragically failed: A police officer, himself convicted of domestic violence, handled her complaint negligently and failed to properly forward it. MB was able to continue stalking, abducting, and abusing his wife. Finally, he shot her in the thighs, doused her with gasoline, and burned her alive in the street. He also set fire to their home. Her parents traveled from Algeria to care for the orphaned children.

The author connects these three fates through the recurring motif of "women who run" to escape their partners' violence. She uses her own experience as a bridge to illustrate the universal mechanisms of "emprise" (dominance and control) and their tragic consequences. The book is a "desperate search for justice" and an attempt to give the victims a voice, preserve their memories, and unravel the "unbearable enigma of femicide." She creates an "imaginary space," a literary space, to gather the perpetrators and gain control of the narrative, reversing the roles and allowing the victims' perspectives to speak. In doing so, she critically reflects on the limitations of language and the impossibility of grasping the "whole truth."

Despite the overwhelming violence and isolation, the women—especially the narrator and Chahinez—display moments of resistance and an indomitable vitality. Chahinez's desire for financial independence and her fight for her children, the narrator's return to writing as an act of self-assertion—all this testifies to an unbreakable inner strength. Experiencing PAMI (Préjudice d'Angoisse de Mort Imminente) gives a name to the extreme fear of death and confirms the authenticity of the threat survived.

On the perspective of men

Nathacha Appanah presents in The night in the heart The author does not present the male perpetrators in a way that exonerates or justifies their actions, but rather pursues a comprehensive and unvarnished portrayal that encompasses both their physical characteristics and initial points of attraction, as well as the full spectrum of their violent and manipulative personalities. The "justice" of this portrayal lies in the rejection of trivialization and victim blaming, and in the emphasis on the truth from the perspective of the survivors and victims. The author admits that the men are "not entirely evil" and that one might find "here and there glimpses of transparency and subtle vulnerability" in them: MB (the bricklayer) is described as a "very handsome child" who is "lovable" and "hardworking." He is proud of his work and knows how to "seduce" and "flatter" women. RD (the chauffeur) is perceived as "handsome," "polite, sympathetic, charming," and "respectful and helpful." He sees himself as a "family man." HC (the journalist and poet) is intellectual (“brilliant,” “genius”), a dedicated athlete, and has been described as a “guru” or “mentor.” He considered himself a “poet.” The section “Behavioral Habituses” analyzes the perpetrators’ behavior by decoupling them from their individual identities and instead referring to a generic “he.” This “he” is ultimately identified as a “shark,” thus emphasizing the predatory and systematic pattern of violence, independent of the perpetrator’s identity. Specific techniques are described: “circling observation,” “frontal assaults,” and “crossing approaches,” which include the isolation of the victim, verbal and physical violence, and constant surveillance and control strategies.

Overall, the novel presents The night in the heart The novel presents a fundamental critique of patriarchal dominance and the violence associated with it. It affirms the importance of the female perspective and the memory of the victims, while simultaneously exposing the superficiality of societal judgments and the manipulative constructions of masculinity. The evaluation of gender roles is achieved through the unflinching depiction of the reality of violence and oppression underlying traditional male dominance, and through the emphasis on the inner strength and resilience of women. Nathacha Appanah's novel focuses decidedly on the female victim perspective and rejects any interpretation aimed at empathizing with the perpetrators. The author creates an "imaginary space" in which the three male perpetrators are gathered and where "psychologizing explanations" are deliberately denied, as these only serve to "exonerate the guilty, awaken empathy, and erase their victims." The men are to be "at the mercy of history" and "keep their mouths shut." This suggests that a male-oriented reading, which sees man as a victim of the gender order or role assignments, would contradict the explicit intention of the book.

Nevertheless, the text provides some background information and clues that a reader outside the book's explicit narrative strategy could understand as insights into the circumstances that shape male behavior, even if the book itself does not use these to exonerate the perpetrators:

MB (the bricklayer) grew up in a patriarchal environment in Algeria, where his mother adhered to traditional rules. He left school at 14, possibly to "break free from the family yoke, to be independent" and "to be like his older brothers who were already working." He was proud of his work and felt he was leading a "useful" life and was "finally a man," like his father and brothers. His self-description as "lovable and hardworking" reflects a desire to conform to certain societal expectations.

RD (the chauffeur) is praised for his looks from childhood and grows up in modest circumstances. His job as a chauffeur at the Ministry is "the chance of a lifetime" and fills him with pride, as he sees himself as "a man who has made it, who has found his place" and carries "the pride of his family's path, his ancestors', his entire social class." His self-description as a "family man" contrasts sharply with his later acts of violence. However, he loses control in the casino, suggesting inner instability or pressure to prove something.

HC (the journalist and poet) grows up in a family where his father regularly beats his mother. He describes a “difficult childhood,” a “sometimes brutal father,” and a “silent mother.” He feels that “something prevents him from being joyful, completely free,” and believes this stems from his childhood, the social inequalities of his country, or the “history of his people.” His intellectual ambitions and involvement in sports could be attempts to escape these inner conflicts. He sees himself as a “poet,” despite not receiving the recognition he craves, and feels “betrayed” by others. His initial turn to seminary and contemplation could be interpreted as a search for peace and meaning before his “carnal desires” and “original spirit” derail him.

While the novel touches upon the tragic life stories of the perpetrators and their societal conditioning, it should be emphasized once again: it explicitly rejects any interpretation that portrays the men as victims of the gender order or assigned roles in order to excuse their actions or evoke empathy for them. The author uses the depicted male "roles" (bricklayer, chauffeur, poet) more as a facade behind which systematic violence and manipulative behavior patterns are concealed, which she identifies as a "shark" strategy. Although the author briefly considers whether HC's death might allow for reconciliation or a more lenient sentence, she ultimately returns to an uncompromising stance that places full responsibility on the perpetrators and foregrounds the experiences of the female victims.

The public portrayal of domestic violence and femicide in novels, films, and media is crucial, as it shapes society's understanding of these complex phenomena. However, a fact-based supplement seems necessary for the situation in Germany and France, one that also considers the often-neglected perspective of male victims of violence. Criminological research in Germany has indicated that a comprehensive, empirically grounded basis for debates on femicide and domestic violence is largely lacking, and that a more objective approach to these debates is urgently needed.

Violence, particularly in its most severe and lethal forms, is predominantly a phenomenon worldwide and in Germany in which men perpetrate violence against women. The Federal Criminal Police Office's (BKA) Police Crime Statistics (PKS) nevertheless provide a crucial empirical foundation for countering a simplistic view of reality. The figures for 2023 demonstrate that male violence against women predominates, but also reveal the existence of a significant number of male victims. Of the 256.276 victims of domestic violence, 70,5% were female (180.715) and 29,5% male (75.561). In cases of intimate partner violence, the central theme of the novel, 79,2% of the 167.865 victims were female (132.966), but 20,8% were male (34.899). This figure of almost 35.000 affected men is substantial and illustrates that the assumption that men are never victims in a partnership does not correspond to reality.

The picture is even more nuanced when considering domestic violence, which accounts for 34,5% of all domestic violence cases. Here, the gender ratio of victims is almost balanced: 54% female (47.749) and 46% male (40.662). These figures demonstrate that male victimization is not an isolated phenomenon, but rather varies considerably depending on the relationship context and occurs almost as frequently as female victimization in certain family constellations. Statistics on suspects complement this perspective. While 77,6% of suspects in cases of intimate partner violence were male, 22,4% were female. This also underscores that violence is not an exclusively male activity.

Even official police statistics only tell part of the story. A study by the White Ring (a victim support organization) revealed that one in two men has experienced domestic violence at some point in their lives. This discrepancy between perceived and officially recorded violence suggests a massive number of unreported cases. A significant portion of these unreported incidents involve the less visible forms of violence. A recent survey shows that approximately 39% of affected men reported psychological violence, and over 29% reported physical violence. This psychological violence includes systematic intimidation, humiliation, social isolation, controlling behavior, and stalking.

Another important aspect is "ordinary intimate partner violence," which also includes minor physical altercations such as hitting and pushing. This form of violence is described as "gender-symmetrical" in the US and Germany, meaning it occurs almost equally often among men and women. While severe, escalating, or fatal violence is demonstrably dominated by men, the existence of gender-symmetrical violence shows that everyday conflicts do not follow a simple perpetrator-victim binary. The fact that many women are also perpetrators in these situations, and the fact that these cases are reported less frequently, contribute to maintaining this simplified narrative.

The reasons for the high number of unreported cases of male victims are deeply rooted in traditional gender roles. The so-called "old man image" is increasingly linked to the concept of "toxic masculinity." This image describes behaviors and attitudes that are harmful to both men and women and are based on the same "hegemonic concepts of masculinity" that also promote violence against women. These problematic aspects include emotional repression, the association of aggression with masculinity, excessive pressure to perform, and the fear of being perceived as weak.

The societal expectation that a man can "take it" and withstand pressure often leads to men not recognizing psychological violence as such and blaming themselves. This role model demands that they deny their own vulnerability. As a result, they ignore health problems, which can lead to a shorter life expectancy, and fail to seek necessary help in violent situations. The outcome is a massive inner burden that can manifest in mental health issues such as depression, anxiety, and sleep disorders. These observations are intended to provide a more comprehensive view of the societal situation, but in no way diminish the concerns and suffering of the three women in the novel.

In retrospect, after HC's death, the author offers a dualistic description of his personality. She lists his "acidic, demanding, fussy, efficient, unique, endearing, perceptive, poetic, talented, extraordinary, vibrant, polished, remarkable" qualities, but immediately adds that he was also "violent, condescending, manipulative, manic, obsessive, paranoid, calculating, misogynistic, humiliating, sexist." This demonstrates her willingness to reveal the full complexity and contradictions without relativizing male violence.

Speechlessness and self-empowerment

The novel's ending, particularly the section "La peine" (The Punishment), reflects on the limits of language in the face of the unspeakable and the complex way the author processes her own trauma. During MB's trial, the author again confronts the "impossibility of language" when she sees the photographs of Chahinez's body. She searches for words, but "no word quite fits, none says it exactly." She refuses to describe Chahinez's body with euphemistic adjectives that would obscure the extent of the violence. Instead, she describes it as an "es" (ça) – "it is no longer Chahinez, it is no longer a human being, it is a it“This radicalism underlines the total annihilation of the victim’s identity through violence and contrasts with how it has preserved the memory of Emma as human.”

The discovery of the acronym PAMI (préjudice d'angoisse de mort imminente – fear damage of imminent death) in court resonates deeply with the author. She recognizes it as a word for the extreme fear she herself experienced on that terrible night when she thought she was dying. This realization, that there is a term for her "inhuman screams" and her state as a "doll," remains significant for her even after more than a quarter of a century and confirms the reality of her suffering. As she observes MB in the "glass prison" of the courtroom, reality blurs for her. MB appears to her as a "palimpsest of someone else," in whom she recognizes similarities to RD and HC. The courtroom becomes her "imaginary chamber" in which the three tormentors are present. This demonstrates that processing her trauma is an ongoing process and that the inner spaces of confrontation continue to exist.

A central element of the novel's ending is the concept of "the thing," her own trauma of sexual violence at the hands of HC, which she cannot directly name or describe for a long time. She confesses that she initially failed to write about this "thing" because she lacked the "voice, literal and literary," and it threatened to suffocate her. Her strategy was to avoid "the thing" and resolve to write about it "at the end of this book, at the end of this road." At the end of the novel, however, she decides not to fully recount or describe "the thing." This deliberately chosen silence becomes her "secret, my rage, my blackmail object, my midnight garden, my return to power, at last." It is a powerful act of self-empowerment and resistance that does not relativize the trauma but preserves it in its inviolable form. It enables her to "remain upright" and not be lulled by the "sweet melody" of reconciliation or forgetting.

Despite the speechlessness and the pain, the desire to fathom the truth and honor the lives of the dead remains. She thinks daily of Emma and Chahinez, of the promises they could not keep, and of the children who must go on living without their mothers. Her work is a continuous exploration of "ghosts and the living" and a search for "truth and the pain of lost things." Interestingly, in the "third night" (Part 3), the author employs a different form of expression when she draws Chahinez's house, thereby grasping its "matter and form." Similarly, at the end of the "Quatrième partie," she draws a plan of Emma and Chahinez's "dreamed houses," where the lines are straight and steady, representing a moment of control and solace in an otherwise chaotic narrative.

The novel's ending exposes the limitations of literary representation of extreme violence, particularly sexual violence, culminating in an act of silence as a sign of strength and empowerment. Appanah refuses full disclosure in favor of preserving her inner integrity, while continuing to recount the other women's stories with unparalleled, personally grounded intensity. She is not only the narrator but also a survivor who has found a way to raise her voice while protecting her deepest secret to avoid being victimized again.