France's glass display case and Algeria's skull: Clara Breteau

This article is written in German. Automatic translations:

To extinguish that which is foaming inside him

the novel The Glass Avenue In her novel, author Clara Breteau tells her own story through the character of Anna, a writer and lecturer who explores the layers of silence and the absence of her Algerian father. Her father, an immigrant from the Aurès Mountains in Algeria, worked his entire life as a window cleaner in Tours. The titular "Avenue de verre" symbolizes the business world and, at the same time, a glass "showcase of the nation." Anna's father, nicknamed "Johnny," attempted through his work to erase the traces of existence (rain, fingerprints). Anna interprets this constant cleaning and smoothing of surfaces as an attempt to "extinguish the something that foams within him" and to repress the traumatic experiences of the war. Because he denied his daughter his Algerian surname (Baloul) and led a double life, Anna feels like the child of a "papa de verre" (glass dad), a transparent, vanishing figure. The city's glass skin thus reflects the colonial reality in which Algeria was transformed into a "glass cage" to isolate the population.

The definitive break in the family occurs when the father, on the orders of the "conseil de famille, là-bas, en Algérie" (family council, there, in Algeria), informs Anna and her brother that they are no longer his children, which Anna experiences as "an eraser, a nothingness expelled as sound letters" ("une gomme, le néant jeté en lettres sonores"). In response, Anna develops compulsive rituals, stops growing, and wants to "erase herself from the mirrors" (s'effacer des miroirs). In the following excerpt, Anna reflects on her father's profession as a window cleaner, which she initially understood as an activity of erasing traces and creating clarity (like an optician).

A large vague de mousse arrives at the new carreau. Elle garde des impressions de gestes, les rayonnages dans le magasin deviennent flous. Anna has long been in her profession, she has the effect of traces – de plume, de doigts, d'insectes écrabouillés, de souffles, when the ancient gens coller leur visage trop près contre la vitre. If you wash your car, it's the fabric of the transparency, like the other parts of the pain. It also has the option to choose the optics, which can help you with the clair. Et pourtant, lorsqu'elle le regarde travailler, Anna voit also l'envers caché de ses mains, tout ce temps qu'elles passent à voiler les surfaces, à les rendre soudain tout opaques et brumeuses.

A large wave of foam once again floods the tile. It leaves traces of gestures, blurring the shelves in the shop. Anna had long believed that this profession was about erasing traces—of rain, fingers, squashed insects, breath when people press their faces too close to the glass. Being a window cleaner meant creating transparency, like others bake bread. There was something of the optician in it, of the one who helps people see clearly. And yet, as she watches him work, Anna also sees the hidden side of his hands, all the time they spend obscuring surfaces, suddenly making them opaque and foggy.

The interpretation reverses, however, when Anna recognizes the true ambivalence of the process: before clarity can emerge, the surface must first become covered, opaque, and nebulous. This reflects the deeper theme of the narrative: the attempt to make the father's past and the colonial traumas transparent necessarily involves phases of obscuration and silence. The glass is not only a medium of visibility but also a veil.

Anna's painstaking research to fill in the gaps in her family history leads to the realization that her father's silence masked a deep-seated trauma from the Algerian War. An online comment reveals that Anna's grandfather, Hadj, a marabout from Chaoui country, was killed by the FLN in 1962 as a Harki. This violent end contrasts sharply with her father's lifelong obsession with erasing his traces. Anna realizes that her heritage consists not of a fixed place, but of a nomadic territory and a "double absence" in the sense of sociologist Abdelmalek Sayad. 1 Although Anna neither bears her father's name nor speaks his native language, she identifies with him through subtle signs such as her pointed canines. Her efforts to have a child of her own, conceived "in vitro" (in a transparent container), ironically tie her to the Avenue de Verre. Anna ultimately chooses the healer's name Hadj as her son's middle name, thus mobilizing the healing potential of the past against the recurring violence and building a bridge between the generations, even if the truth lies in an act of silence and "erasure."

Clara Breteaus, Les modes de vie autonomes: a voie d'émancipation poétique et politique, 2023.

In "Les modes de vie autonomes," Breteau discusses her heritage, which is both French and Algerian, and how this influences her work and her interest in autonomy and culture. She discovers that the history of her Algerian and French ancestors, particularly those from rural and resistant backgrounds (e.g., Brackonieure, Paysans), constitutes a profound, though long-ignored, source of her motivation. This personal history is intertwined with the colonial past, which she initially ignored but which manifests itself in her academic and existential aspirations. Breteau highlights that, due to this colonial history, many people in France have a complicated, contradictory, and sometimes coded relationship with ecology and territory. She emphasizes that there was not only external colonization but also internal colonization within France itself, resulting in a lasting trauma. For them, the autonomy movements and their culture represent a kind of rediscovery and visualization of this organic, vernacular, and poetic connection to the territory, which has been systematically destroyed and rendered invisible by capitalist and state policies.

Camel Daoud without a body, warrior heads in metal cabinets

Dans une exposure à l'Institut du Monde arabe, « Son œil dans ma main », l'écrivain Algérien Kamel Daoud décrit sa sensation de ne plus avoir de corps, d'être tout transparent, effacé par la génération des pères fondateurs statufiés, fiers et grands. May you have something like that, you ask Anna, who has a child with an ombre, a corps that is disparate, and subsiste to the light, floats like a drape on the barreaux d'échelle, au guidon d'un scooter? What is the father of the verre that has a face and donné to Anna, and what regards you, comme on contemplation of a figurine, without the savoir qu'en faire?

In an exhibition at the Institut du Monde Arabe entitled "Son œil dans ma main" (His Gaze in My Hand), the Algerian writer Kamel Daoud describes his feeling of no longer having a body, of being completely transparent, erased by the generation of proud and great founding fathers who have become statues. But what does it mean, Anna wonders, to be the child of a shadow, of a body that disappears and remains only lightly suspended, like a flag on the rungs of a ladder or the handlebars of a scooter? What is this glass father we created and gave to Anna, whom she contemplates today, as one contemplates a figure without quite knowing what to make of it?

This short but powerful excerpt encapsulates the father's existential crisis and the daughter's difficulty in understanding him. Through the reference to Kamel Daoud, the father is placed within the broader context of the Algerian generational conflict: he feels transparent and obliterated by the burden of his own father's generation. For Anna, this results in the problem of being the child of a shadow. The "papa de verre" (father made of glass) is the central image representing his fragility, invisibility, and artificiality as a figure in Anna's life. She views him like a molded figurine with whom she doesn't know what to make of. This underscores the gap in Anna's family history and her search for identity, which arises from the absence of a substantial father figure.

Anna visits the Archives d'outre-mer (Overseas Archives), whose name avoids the word "colonial." She sees the National Archives adorned with enormous silver "X"s, symbolizing the state's perpetuation of anonymity. Colonization is exposed as a "gigantesque campagne de prestidigitation" (gigantic campaign of pre-sorcery magic), in which magicians like Robert-Houdin were sent to Algeria in 1856 to dispel the magic of marabouts like Hadj and prove France's superiority. Finally, Anna encounters the most compelling evidence of the cruelty:

The heads of dozens of Algerian resistance fighters, killed and beheaded during the French colonial period, are kept in the Musée de l'Homme in Paris. This is a central element in Anna's postcolonial inquiry: she discovers the information about the heads through a computer screen. There, she sees a photograph of two gray metal cabinets from the 1960s in a small office in the museum's basement, where the heads are stored. Anna notices the banality and camouflage of this storage location: the gray cabinets resemble those in which her French grandfather hid his pastel drawings of "heads" and "multi-heads," as these somewhat disturbed those around him.

Among the preserved heads is that of the leader Bouziane. Bouziane was a tribal leader from the region of Anna's grandfather, Hadj. His beheading and that of his young son in 1849, following the Zaatcha massacre, traumatized the tribes of the Aurès region. This repository is part of a vast complex of 24.000 human remains, including 18.000 skulls, originating from 19th-century colonial missions. A total of 68 Algerian heads have been identified. For Anna, the scene underscores that the heads of Bouziane and his son are "the exposed heads of the colonial iceberg."

The heads were hastily removed from public display after a controversy arose. They had previously been displayed for years in the window of the Musée de l'Homme, much like wig-wearing mannequin busts in some junk shop. Anna interprets this as a form of state secrecy and institutional erasure, as the heads are hidden in the gloom to conceal the cruelty of colonial conquest. Anna reads that France's war doctrine under General Bugeaud in the 1840s was a strategy of "total destruction" (“Total destruction”This included the massacre of as many people as possible (fighters or not) to spread terror. The physical preservation of the heads thus serves as irrefutable proof of this "exterminatory doctrine".

The report Anna reads mentions that 24 of the 68 heads were repatriated to Algeria for burial in 2020. However, this repatriation was only carried out in the form of a five-year deposit (depositIf no specific law is passed to regulate the final return, the heads of Bouziane and his son, buried in their coffin draped with the Algerian flag, would symbolically return to the “underground hands of France” (mains basements of France) fall back. The violence of the colony thus penetrates even the burial sites, demonstrating the state's continuing power over the dead.

The NOTHING on the marriage certificate

Breteau's novel is an exploration of France's postcolonial politics of memory and the complexity of transgenerational trauma, embedded in a multifaceted poetics of transparency and disappearance. As previously mentioned, the novel's poetics are significantly shaped by the metaphors of glass and transparency, which serve as ciphers for denial and assimilation into consumer society. The father's title, "Papa de verre" or "ombre," underscores his enforced invisibility. His profession as a window cleaner symbolizes the elimination of traces, whether dirt or the hidden Berber alphabet. Glass functions as a deceptive mirror and barrier. It reflects the father's marginalized existence and simultaneously symbolizes the colonial prison (bocal – preserving jar) into which Algerian society was confined during the colonial era in order to "get the fish out of the water" ("vider le bocal").

Central to this is the semantic field of lack and denial: familial silence (Silence) about the war experiences, the father's attempt to conceal his origins with a new name (Johnny) and an instinctive smile as a postcolonial mask, as well as the official administrative statement "NÉANT" (Nothing) on ​​the grandparents' marriage certificate. This void forms the starting point for Anna's search. The return of Saharan sand from Hadj's homeland disrupts this smooth metaphor: it is interpreted as the world's "new skin" and as the "physical manifestation of the return of Algerian history," polishing the discs and "giving them back a part of their original body."

The father was determined to deny Anna and her brother the Algerian surname Baloul (which, in the colonial context, could mean "the idiot"). He preferred the "X" of the unknown father to protect them from racism, but also to conceal his double life and his other family, thus becoming the "père bicéphale" (two-headed father). To survive, the father exploited the colonial destruction of identity, which aimed to make Algerians "fils de personne" (sons of nobody), and disguised himself as "personne" (nobody), much like Odysseus. He adopted the identity "Johnny" after Johnny Hallyday, whose music promised lightness and transformed the Algerian trauma into a French rocker identity. He identified with Hallyday's song "Fils de personne."

Il ya quelque temps, en fouillant des papiers, Anna a découvert l'acte de mariage de ses grands-parents Algériens. In the lingerie of dates and noms qu'elle ne connaissait pas, in the rubrique réservée aux annotations en marge, un mot accroché son regard, écrit sur la page par l'officer de l'état civil en majuscules immenses: « NÉANT ». This is a convention administrative agreement with Anna and you can get a coup de la franchise, a lucidity of light and instantaneous vernissage of the language. Car of this union in June 1934 is not the same as before. Pas a syllabe prononcée, pas a gramme de tissu, pas a fragment of coquille d'œuf éclatée à la carabine. Rien d'autre qu'une empreinte de papier et this declaration superbe, "NÉANT", qui écrase le couple de tout son poids, lui et sa descendance.

Some time ago, while sifting through papers, Anna discovered her Algerian grandparents' marriage certificate. Among unfamiliar dates and names, a word caught her eye in the marginal notes section, written in huge capital letters by the registrar: "NÉANT" (NOTHING). It was an administrative convention, but Anna suddenly saw in it openness, a disarming clarity that momentarily pierced the veneer of language. For nothing had been passed down to her about this union on that day in June 1934. Not a single syllable, not a gram of fabric, not a fragment of an eggshell shattered by a rifle. Nothing but an imprint on paper and this magnificent declaration, "NOTHING," which weighed heavily on the couple and their descendants.

This excerpt addresses the institutionalization of absence and the consequences of colonialism on a civilian level. Anna discovers the word "NÉANT" (Nothing) on ​​her Algerian grandparents' marriage certificate. Although it is an administrative convention (presumably for "Rien à Signaler" or "nothing recorded"), for Anna it symbolizes an existential truth: nothing of this couple's entire past and legacy has reached her—no stories, no material traces. The word "NÉANT" weighs heavily on the couple and their descendants. This corresponds to Kateb Yacine's idea that colonial rule actively pursued the erasure of memory and social structures (NÉANT). Anna is the living refutation of this "NÉANT," but she senses the premonitions of its erasure.

The narrative threads are organized along Anna's "enquête," which is not based on linear chronology but on the collection of fragmentary and microscopic traces. The narrative jumps between Anna's present (academic career, desire for children, motherhood), the history of her parents (her father's double life, mixed marriage), and the deep historical trauma of the colonial era (Hadj, Zaatcha massacre, Musée de l'Homme).

The temporal structure is thus non-linear and uncontrollable. The search is a boomerang that leads Anna back to her origin. The narrative technique of gathering evidence, often indirectly—be it through the analysis of the transparent Museum of human or the archives – emphasizes the difficulty of penetrating official historiography. Anna tries to restore the missing thread ("réparer le fil").

Double absence: France and Algeria

The novel is a postcolonial work that analyzes the profound impact of the Algerian War and colonization on subsequent generations. The relationship between France and Algeria is characterized by violence, betrayal, and systematic annihilation. The protagonist's Algerian heritage is defined by a "double absence"—neither truly integrated into France (despite her French name) nor rooted in Algeria. Mohamed Dib's concept of the "fils de personne" (son of no one) is manifested in French society through the father's use of the nickname "Johnny" (an allusion to Hallyday's song "Fils de personne").

Memory politics is seen as a fight against the institutional denial of the state (denial) and depicts the intergenerational silence of those affected. The search is only set in motion by a graffiti-like internet comment about Hadj's death as a Harki. The novel makes the physical presence of colonial violence visible, for example through the heads of decapitated Algerian resistance fighters kept in France (including Bouziane, whose trauma took place in Hadj's home region).

When you're on the couch, you're wearing kilos and months, the skin is yellow and you're going to go, you'll answer the questions from Anna and you'll hear nothing that's available to you. Puis il se tasaiit. La mort dans ses draps ne changeait rien. Elle le ramenait, disait-il, là-bas, near the siens. Et elle lui cosait la bouche, plus serré encore. Les rares choses qu'il lui avait dites sur la war au fil des ans surnageaient dans la tête d'Anna: des histoires de mitraillettes, de mort qui colle aux trousses. The slogan, which reflects the history: « Marche ou crève », « La vie est une jungle ». Ils derivaient dans le vide comme des clothings sans corps.

As her father lay in bed, thirty kilos lighter, with yellow skin and a bloated belly, he answered Anna's questions by telling her he had nothing to reproach himself for. Then he fell silent. Death in his sheets changed nothing. It would take him back, he said, there, to his loved ones. And it would sew his mouth shut even tighter. The few things he had told her about the war over the years floated in Anna's mind: stories of machine guns, of death always on your heels. Slogans, not really stories: "Go or die," "Life is a jungle." They floated in the void like clothes without bodies.

This excerpt illuminates the father's traumatic silence, particularly in the face of death. As he becomes ill and near death, his silence intensifies. The metaphor of sewn-up lips It illustrates how death physically and emotionally pulls him back home and to his family "over there," making any narrative impossible. The only remnants of his wartime experience are empty, generic slogans like "Marche ou crève" or "La vie est une jungle." These phrases are meaningless to Anna; they float like air. Disembodied dresses in the void. The text makes it clear that the father did not pass on a real story, but only the essence of a struggle for survival.

Communication is dominated by obfuscation and silence. Silence is a survival strategy of the father, who views his endangered life as No one (No one, an allusion to Odysseus) disguised. Anna must decipher these gaps through unauthorized sources (rumors, anecdotes, the radio station as a "probe") and the language of the body (her canines, the tooth root).

The novel clearly has the characteristics of a social novel, criticizing the class and origin of the migrants. The father is an illiterate laborer who is constantly under pressure to be mobile and invisible in order to survive. Avenue de verre It stands metonymically for French consumer society, which exploits the labor of migrants while erasing their history. The ongoing social violence is depicted in the poster, which portrays "Karim" as a window cleaner seemingly "calling for help."

The Kabyle Song

Eight years after his father's death, a Saharan sandstorm blankets Tours and the Avenue de Verre. The sand, originating from Hadj's homeland, rekindles memories ("rallumé leur mémoire") and shatters the illusion of French transparency.

The novel's conclusion in chapter 39 offers healing on a personal level, while the societal conflict remains unresolved. Anna becomes a mother, the conception taking place outside the laboratories and glass apparatuses—a symbolic liberation from the "bocal" of invisibility and medically controlled existence into which her desire for a child had already forced her. The crucial act is the healing of the family line: Anna gives her son the middle name Hadj, after his grandfather, who was known as a healer. This is an act of talisman-making that, while not restoring the truth about the violent death, transforms the trauma into a force that generates its own antidotes.

The final scene, in which Anna sings the Kabyle song "A Vava Inouva" in an unknown language at her father's grave, leaving the lyrics on the wet surface, is a powerful ritual ending. The song, which speaks of the locked door and the fear of the ogre, acknowledges the ongoing threat of colonial violence. Sung in Berber, the song protects her from the other mourners and forms a bridge between father and daughter. The fact that the glass on the car's windshield mixes the water with the ink, forming new words, can be interpreted as suggesting that while history is rewritten into the world through Anna, it remains forever in flux and unfinished.

Algérie d'hier, romans d'aujourd'hui: avec Clara Breteau et Éric Fottorino, Bonheur des livres, 2025.
Reference / Citation suggestion
Nonnenmacher, Kai. "France's glass display case and Algeria's skull: Clara Breteau." Rentrée littéraire: contemporary French literature. 2025. Accessed on May 18, 2026 at 20:47 p.m. https://rentree.de/2025/10/25/frankreichs-glasvitrine-und-algeriens-schaedel-clara-breteau/.

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

Notes
  1. Breteau adopts the concept of "double absence" from Sayad's work of the same name. La Double absence: des illusions de l'émigré aux souffrances de l'immigré (Paris: Seuil, 1997).>>>

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