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شارع اللصوص
لخضر شاب مغربي من طنجة، فتى دون تاريخ، مسلم معتدل، متعطّش للحرية والانفتاح في مجتمع متشدّد. في المدرسة تعلم نتفًا من الإسبانية، وما يكفي من الفرنسية ليصبح قرئًا نهمًا للروايات البوليسية، ينتظر سن النضج وهو يرنو إلى نهدَى قريبته مريم. معها سيرتكب الإثم، لمرّة واحدة لكنّها كافية ليضبطا متلبّسين بإثمهما. ثم تنهال الضربات على لخضر، ها هو في الشارع بلا دين ولا خُلق.
ويبدأ عندئذ تسكّع يقوده إلى خدمه النصوص، والموتى، وبطرق غير متوقّعة، مواجهًا كوابيسه بالواقع، منشغلًا بالحب ومشاريع المنفى.
ويبدأ عندئذ تسكّع يقوده إلى خدمه النصوص، والموتى، وبطرق غير متوقّعة، مواجهًا كوابيسه بالواقع، منشغلًا بالحب ومشاريع المنفى.
333 pages, Paperback
First published August 22, 2012
38 people are currently reading
2,150 people want to read
About the author
Mathias Énard
38books461followersMathias Énard studied Persian and Arabic and spent long periods in the Middle East. A professor of Arabic at the University of Barcelona, he won the Prix des Cinq Continents de la Francophonie and the Prix Edmée-de-La-Rochefoucauld for his first novel, La perfection du tir. He has been awarded many prizes for Zone, including the Prix du Livre Inter and the Prix Décembre.
Compass, which garnered Énard the renowned Prix Goncourt in 2015, traces the intimate connection between Western humanities and art history, and Islamic philosophy and culture. In one sentence that's over 500 pages long, Zone tells of the recent European past as a cascade of consequences of wars and conflicts.
Énard lives and works in Barcelona, where he teaches Arabic at the Universitat Autònoma. His latest publications include a poetry collection titled Dernière communication à la société proustienne de Barcelone (Final message to the Proust Society of Barcelona) and Le Banquet annuel de la confrérie des fossoyeurs, a long novel published in 2020.
Compass, which garnered Énard the renowned Prix Goncourt in 2015, traces the intimate connection between Western humanities and art history, and Islamic philosophy and culture. In one sentence that's over 500 pages long, Zone tells of the recent European past as a cascade of consequences of wars and conflicts.
Énard lives and works in Barcelona, where he teaches Arabic at the Universitat Autònoma. His latest publications include a poetry collection titled Dernière communication à la société proustienne de Barcelone (Final message to the Proust Society of Barcelona) and Le Banquet annuel de la confrérie des fossoyeurs, a long novel published in 2020.
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August 9, 2022
NON SAPPIAMO NULLA DELLA VIOLENZA
Carrer, o calle, Robadors, nel Barrio Chino di Barcellona. La via dei Ladri.
La mia via era una delle peggiori del quartiere, una delle più pittoresche, se vogliamo, e rispondeva al nome colorito di carrer Robadors, via dei Ladri, il rompicapo del municipio di zona � la via delle puttane, dei drogati, degli ubriaconi, di ogni sorta di disperati che passavano le giornate in quella stretta fortezza che puzzava di piscio, di birra rancida, di tajine e di samosa.
Siamo a Barcellona ed ecco così spiegato il titolo.
Lakhdar ci approda dopo duecento pagine, che sembrano una lunga preparazione a questo momento.
Viene da Tangeri, Lakhdar, e conduce il lettore sia sulla sua riva atlantica che su quella mediterranea.
Si parla anche di altre parti del Marocco � poi si va per qualche giorno, una settimana, a Tunisi. Si sbarca insieme a Lakhdar ad Algeciras, e da lì finalmente prendiamo tutti insieme l’autobus per la capitale della Catalogna.
Tangeri era un vicolo cieco immerso nel buio, un passaggio ostruito dal mare; lo stretto di Gibilterra una spaccatura, un abisso che sbarrava la strada ai nostri sogni; il Nord era un miraggio. Una volta di più ero smarrito, e l’unica terraferma sotto i miei piedi e dietro di me era da un lato l’immensa Africa fino al Capo e a est tutti quei Paesi in fiamme, l’Algeria, la Tunisia, la Libia, l’Egitto, la Palestina, la Siria.
Sulla riva sud del Mediterraneo sono in corso le cosiddette primavere arabe, la polizia carica picchia e spara i dimostranti, la gente che protesta viene bene in televisione, anche sotto i colpi dei manganelli.
A Marrakech salta in aria la hall di un albergo, tra i morti anche qualche turista � a Tangeri un uomo urlante armato di spada entra nel Café Hafa e uccide uno studente. Entrambe le volte sembra che ci sia la mano di Bassam, amico d’infanzia di Lakhdar. Ma è mai possibile? Li unisce davvero la stessa religione, condividono lo stesso Profeta?!
Anche sulla riva nord del Mediterraneo le cose non sono tranquille. Il governa italiano dell’epoca (Berlusconi) lascia entrare per attraversare, chi arriva deve trasferirsi altrove il prima possibile, via, in altro paese. Ma la Francia accoglie sotto zero: come si diceva, le primavere arabe sono belle in televisione, e sono anche più belle e palpitanti se gli arabi rimangono a casa loro, evitano di appestarci le periferie.
Barcellona accoglie, tutto a spese dei turisti, che vengono rapinati da ladri di ogni tipo, otto euro per una birra o un portafoglio prelevato dallo zainetto.
Ma la rabbia è arrivata anche in Spagna che ha il tasso di disoccupazione più alto d’Europa, dove ci sono gli indignados, dove un quarto della Catalogna era senza lavoro, i giornali erano pieni di terribili storie di crisi, di famiglie sfrattate da case che non riuscivano più a pagare e che le banche svendevano pur continuando a pretendere il pagamento del mutuo, di suicidi, di sacrifici, di preoccupazione: si sentiva crescere la tensione, si sentiva crescere la violenza anche nella via dei Ladri tra i poveri dei poveri, anche a Gràcia tra i figli di borghesi, si sentiva che la città era pronta a tutto, alla rassegnazione come all’insurrezione.
Quanto a Lakhdar, ha ormai vent’anni, ma il suo viaggio comincia a diciassette quando suo padre, musulmano ortodosso, lo sorprende a letto con una cugina e lo caccia di casa: il ragazzo deve abbandonare la famiglia, andarsene ramengo per il paese, verso Casa (Casablanca), poi di nuovo a Tangeri, residente e tuttofare presso la moschea della Diffusione del Pensiero coranico, dopo di che a inserire nomi e dati di morti in un computer, e ancora, mozzo sui traghetti Tangeri-Algeciras, tuttofare in una piccola impresa funebre spagnola. Fino all’approdo a Barcellona, dove vive la sua bella Judit, che lo ha amato e ora invece non si capisce bene, lei bianca borghese europea, lui arabo povero e in assenza di futuro.
In tutto questo percorso Lakhdar si sostiene, e intrattiene leggendo libri: sopra tutti, i gialli, principalmente francesi, possibilmente la mitica Série Noire, Manchette e Izzo. Ma soprattutto, si sostiene e intrattiene, ogni volta che può, con un buon tocco di hashish del Riff. Sarà forse questa pratica che rende il suo racconto in prima persona così divertente, e irriverente, scanzonato e dolce?
Fino a un certo punto, però. Perché poi le riflessioni di Lakhdar, i suoi pensieri si fanno cupi e tortuosi, vasti e vaghi, la violenza invade e pervade, reale o presunta, è comunque contagiosa.
Fino al finale sorprendente e sconvolgente, che lo vede in parte novello Mersault, e in parte, ancor più, novello Kurz. Apocalypse now.
Gli uomini sono cani, si strusciano fra loro nella miseria, si rotolano nella sporcizia, e non sanno come uscirne, passano le giornate stesi nella polvere e leccarsi il pelo e il sesso, pronti a tutto per il pezzo di carne o l’osso marcio che qualcuno vorrà gettargli, e io sono come loro un essere umano quindi un rifiuto immondo schiavo degli istinti, un cane, un cane che morde quando ha paura e cerca le carezze.
Qui sopra l’incipit. A seguire invece siamo sul finale:
Gli uomini sono cani con lo sguardo vuoto, girano in tondo nella penombra, corrono dietro una palla, si affrontano per una femmina, per un angolo di cuccia, se ne stanno distesi per ore, con la lingua penzoloni aspettando che qualcuno li finisca, con un’ultima carezza � mi chiedo perché a un certo punto prendiamo una decisione, perché oggi, perché adesso, forse è stato lui a decidere e non io.
Quanto è bravo Énard a seguire il percorso di formazione di questo giovane, modulando ritmo e tono, prendendoci per mano con dolce inganno, svelando solo alla fine che ieri è visto da oggi, e Lakhdar intanto è cresciuto, è diverso. È un altro.
Daniel Bennett Schwartz: Portrait of the Artist, Running. 1984. Collezione privata. È l’immagine sulla copertina
Carrer, o calle, Robadors, nel Barrio Chino di Barcellona. La via dei Ladri.
La mia via era una delle peggiori del quartiere, una delle più pittoresche, se vogliamo, e rispondeva al nome colorito di carrer Robadors, via dei Ladri, il rompicapo del municipio di zona � la via delle puttane, dei drogati, degli ubriaconi, di ogni sorta di disperati che passavano le giornate in quella stretta fortezza che puzzava di piscio, di birra rancida, di tajine e di samosa.
Siamo a Barcellona ed ecco così spiegato il titolo.
Lakhdar ci approda dopo duecento pagine, che sembrano una lunga preparazione a questo momento.
Viene da Tangeri, Lakhdar, e conduce il lettore sia sulla sua riva atlantica che su quella mediterranea.
Si parla anche di altre parti del Marocco � poi si va per qualche giorno, una settimana, a Tunisi. Si sbarca insieme a Lakhdar ad Algeciras, e da lì finalmente prendiamo tutti insieme l’autobus per la capitale della Catalogna.
Tangeri era un vicolo cieco immerso nel buio, un passaggio ostruito dal mare; lo stretto di Gibilterra una spaccatura, un abisso che sbarrava la strada ai nostri sogni; il Nord era un miraggio. Una volta di più ero smarrito, e l’unica terraferma sotto i miei piedi e dietro di me era da un lato l’immensa Africa fino al Capo e a est tutti quei Paesi in fiamme, l’Algeria, la Tunisia, la Libia, l’Egitto, la Palestina, la Siria.
Sulla riva sud del Mediterraneo sono in corso le cosiddette primavere arabe, la polizia carica picchia e spara i dimostranti, la gente che protesta viene bene in televisione, anche sotto i colpi dei manganelli.
A Marrakech salta in aria la hall di un albergo, tra i morti anche qualche turista � a Tangeri un uomo urlante armato di spada entra nel Café Hafa e uccide uno studente. Entrambe le volte sembra che ci sia la mano di Bassam, amico d’infanzia di Lakhdar. Ma è mai possibile? Li unisce davvero la stessa religione, condividono lo stesso Profeta?!
Anche sulla riva nord del Mediterraneo le cose non sono tranquille. Il governa italiano dell’epoca (Berlusconi) lascia entrare per attraversare, chi arriva deve trasferirsi altrove il prima possibile, via, in altro paese. Ma la Francia accoglie sotto zero: come si diceva, le primavere arabe sono belle in televisione, e sono anche più belle e palpitanti se gli arabi rimangono a casa loro, evitano di appestarci le periferie.
Barcellona accoglie, tutto a spese dei turisti, che vengono rapinati da ladri di ogni tipo, otto euro per una birra o un portafoglio prelevato dallo zainetto.
Ma la rabbia è arrivata anche in Spagna che ha il tasso di disoccupazione più alto d’Europa, dove ci sono gli indignados, dove un quarto della Catalogna era senza lavoro, i giornali erano pieni di terribili storie di crisi, di famiglie sfrattate da case che non riuscivano più a pagare e che le banche svendevano pur continuando a pretendere il pagamento del mutuo, di suicidi, di sacrifici, di preoccupazione: si sentiva crescere la tensione, si sentiva crescere la violenza anche nella via dei Ladri tra i poveri dei poveri, anche a Gràcia tra i figli di borghesi, si sentiva che la città era pronta a tutto, alla rassegnazione come all’insurrezione.
Quanto a Lakhdar, ha ormai vent’anni, ma il suo viaggio comincia a diciassette quando suo padre, musulmano ortodosso, lo sorprende a letto con una cugina e lo caccia di casa: il ragazzo deve abbandonare la famiglia, andarsene ramengo per il paese, verso Casa (Casablanca), poi di nuovo a Tangeri, residente e tuttofare presso la moschea della Diffusione del Pensiero coranico, dopo di che a inserire nomi e dati di morti in un computer, e ancora, mozzo sui traghetti Tangeri-Algeciras, tuttofare in una piccola impresa funebre spagnola. Fino all’approdo a Barcellona, dove vive la sua bella Judit, che lo ha amato e ora invece non si capisce bene, lei bianca borghese europea, lui arabo povero e in assenza di futuro.
In tutto questo percorso Lakhdar si sostiene, e intrattiene leggendo libri: sopra tutti, i gialli, principalmente francesi, possibilmente la mitica Série Noire, Manchette e Izzo. Ma soprattutto, si sostiene e intrattiene, ogni volta che può, con un buon tocco di hashish del Riff. Sarà forse questa pratica che rende il suo racconto in prima persona così divertente, e irriverente, scanzonato e dolce?
Fino a un certo punto, però. Perché poi le riflessioni di Lakhdar, i suoi pensieri si fanno cupi e tortuosi, vasti e vaghi, la violenza invade e pervade, reale o presunta, è comunque contagiosa.
Fino al finale sorprendente e sconvolgente, che lo vede in parte novello Mersault, e in parte, ancor più, novello Kurz. Apocalypse now.
Gli uomini sono cani, si strusciano fra loro nella miseria, si rotolano nella sporcizia, e non sanno come uscirne, passano le giornate stesi nella polvere e leccarsi il pelo e il sesso, pronti a tutto per il pezzo di carne o l’osso marcio che qualcuno vorrà gettargli, e io sono come loro un essere umano quindi un rifiuto immondo schiavo degli istinti, un cane, un cane che morde quando ha paura e cerca le carezze.
Qui sopra l’incipit. A seguire invece siamo sul finale:
Gli uomini sono cani con lo sguardo vuoto, girano in tondo nella penombra, corrono dietro una palla, si affrontano per una femmina, per un angolo di cuccia, se ne stanno distesi per ore, con la lingua penzoloni aspettando che qualcuno li finisca, con un’ultima carezza � mi chiedo perché a un certo punto prendiamo una decisione, perché oggi, perché adesso, forse è stato lui a decidere e non io.
Quanto è bravo Énard a seguire il percorso di formazione di questo giovane, modulando ritmo e tono, prendendoci per mano con dolce inganno, svelando solo alla fine che ieri è visto da oggi, e Lakhdar intanto è cresciuto, è diverso. È un altro.
Daniel Bennett Schwartz: Portrait of the Artist, Running. 1984. Collezione privata. È l’immagine sulla copertina
October 14, 2021
“الحيا� آلة تنتزع الكائن فينا، تجرّدنا منذ الطفولة لكي تُعيد بنائنا مغرقةً إيّانا في بحر من العلاقات والأصوات والرسائل التي تجعلنا في تحوّل لا متناهٍ ما دمنا في حركةٍ دائمة؛ وتلك الصور الفوريّة لا تُصدر إلا رسمًا شخصيًا فارغًا، وأسماء، أو بالأحرى اسمًا وحيدًا ومع ذلك متعدّدًا يُسقطُونه علينا ويصنعنا�.
ماتياس إينار.
ماتياس إينار.
October 11, 2015
It was impossible to guess if he had been hurt by my suspicions or if his own fate saddened him, like an incurable disease.
This is a necessary, timely novel. I admit to a hesitation, a shame about confronting the world around me. Much like my inability to pursue Derrida on Hospitality I needed to look away. There's a part of me that I don't care admire at times. Quoting the poet Dylan: I used to care, but things have changed.
Creeping in to Enard's novel, I was initially tempted to toss it aside as the narrative opens on almost Orientalist terms: a Moroccan spends his time ogling Western girls and lusts after his cousin. Was Portnoy's Complaint a racist tract? The protagonist is soon kicked out of his house and returns from homeless to the folds of an Islamic Center. This is distant time of the Arab Spring and despite his employer, the protagonist simply wants drink beer and read hard-boiled novels. That isn't too much, is it? Matters both coalesce and drag in the heavy middle of the novel. The satire is heady and piercing.
The unity of the Arab world existed only in Europe.
There is w wonderful scene towards the end where a group immigrants are watching Barcelona FC on tv in a pub and noting the proliferation of girls, wearing the colors and drinking beer. One of them muses that it is this element: female beer drinking which makes Barca and Spain the kings of football. If only such occurred across North Africa the balance of soccer supremacy might tilt. One often needs to dream. Highly Recommended.
This is a necessary, timely novel. I admit to a hesitation, a shame about confronting the world around me. Much like my inability to pursue Derrida on Hospitality I needed to look away. There's a part of me that I don't care admire at times. Quoting the poet Dylan: I used to care, but things have changed.
Creeping in to Enard's novel, I was initially tempted to toss it aside as the narrative opens on almost Orientalist terms: a Moroccan spends his time ogling Western girls and lusts after his cousin. Was Portnoy's Complaint a racist tract? The protagonist is soon kicked out of his house and returns from homeless to the folds of an Islamic Center. This is distant time of the Arab Spring and despite his employer, the protagonist simply wants drink beer and read hard-boiled novels. That isn't too much, is it? Matters both coalesce and drag in the heavy middle of the novel. The satire is heady and piercing.
The unity of the Arab world existed only in Europe.
There is w wonderful scene towards the end where a group immigrants are watching Barcelona FC on tv in a pub and noting the proliferation of girls, wearing the colors and drinking beer. One of them muses that it is this element: female beer drinking which makes Barca and Spain the kings of football. If only such occurred across North Africa the balance of soccer supremacy might tilt. One often needs to dream. Highly Recommended.
May 23, 2018
"I have made use of the world. Life consumes everything- books accompany us,...in revolt or resignation, in faith or abondonment."
This is the first book of Enard that I read, and I enjoyed it very much. Enard is a professor of Arabic at the University of Barcelona. He lived in Middle East and knows colonial North Africa. His writing has a dreamy, naive tone and at times reminded me of Romain Gary (Emile Ajar).
The book takes us to many places but mostly to Morocco and Spain. The protagonist is a romantic book lover, however a very unlucky one. Through the story we relive the events of Arab Spring, fundamentalist abuse of religion, the deadly combination of ignorance and poverty.
Its a tragedy, love story, a suspense, a traveler's blog; all in one.
This is the first book of Enard that I read, and I enjoyed it very much. Enard is a professor of Arabic at the University of Barcelona. He lived in Middle East and knows colonial North Africa. His writing has a dreamy, naive tone and at times reminded me of Romain Gary (Emile Ajar).
The book takes us to many places but mostly to Morocco and Spain. The protagonist is a romantic book lover, however a very unlucky one. Through the story we relive the events of Arab Spring, fundamentalist abuse of religion, the deadly combination of ignorance and poverty.
Its a tragedy, love story, a suspense, a traveler's blog; all in one.
December 5, 2020
Kitoks nei - čia brandos istorija, kaip jaunas tanžerietis nori išvykti į Europą, suauga, išvyksta, bet vis tiek niekur neranda vietos. Visai linijiškas, smarkiai lengvesnis už Kompasą, visai simpatiškas.
Labai gražu - religinio ekstremizmo aplinka (kaip tik vyksta Arabų pavasaris), kaip jis jaučiasi nuo to atsitapatinęs (nors vis negaliu nusikratyt minties, kad tas atsitapatinimas - tai Enard'o europietiška akis, norinti ir pavaizduoti, bet ir neįkristi). Gražu - visokiausios aplinkos, kuriose atsiduria Lakdaras, - pvz dirba lavonų surinkėjo padėjėju, arba prancūziškų knygų surinkėju. Gražu - literatūriškumas, va iš to tai matosi, kad žmogus visą paauglystę ir jaunystę skaitė.
Mažiau patiko - visokios neišpildytos "raudonos silkės". Jis pristatomas kaip mėgstantis detektyvus, dėl tų detektyvų gauna darbą, juos nuolat skaito. Bet kas iš to? Niekaip neatsispindi nei jo charaktery, nei pasakojime. Pasakojimo literatūriškumas irgi iš detektyvų nepasidaro, tai biški neatitinka. Dramatinė pabaiga - ji kaip ir logiškai susiklosto iš pasakojimo, nu bet kaaaam. Pats pasakojimo pobūdis - nenoriu per daug spoilinti, bet tai irgi tokio pasakojimo iš vieno taško variacija kaip Kompase. Nu kiek galima prisimint retrospektyviai tuos savo gyvenimus, ką aš žinau, atsibodo :)
Ir kiek galima rašyt tokios perspektyvos pasakojimus, alio. Tai apie ką ta garsioji Enard'o "Zona" - jaunuolis netoli mirties pasakoja savo gyvenimą iš kalėjimo?
AŠ NESU MAROKIETIS, AŠ ESU DAUGIAU NEGU TAI. Jo, tu esi Enard'as ir tau prieinamos visos perspektyvos, we get it.
Už teksto gražumą ir pasakojimo sklandumą duočiau 4*, bet už dramą numušu, nes AŠ ESU DAUGIAU NEGU TAI.
Labai gražu - religinio ekstremizmo aplinka (kaip tik vyksta Arabų pavasaris), kaip jis jaučiasi nuo to atsitapatinęs (nors vis negaliu nusikratyt minties, kad tas atsitapatinimas - tai Enard'o europietiška akis, norinti ir pavaizduoti, bet ir neįkristi). Gražu - visokiausios aplinkos, kuriose atsiduria Lakdaras, - pvz dirba lavonų surinkėjo padėjėju, arba prancūziškų knygų surinkėju. Gražu - literatūriškumas, va iš to tai matosi, kad žmogus visą paauglystę ir jaunystę skaitė.
Mažiau patiko - visokios neišpildytos "raudonos silkės". Jis pristatomas kaip mėgstantis detektyvus, dėl tų detektyvų gauna darbą, juos nuolat skaito. Bet kas iš to? Niekaip neatsispindi nei jo charaktery, nei pasakojime. Pasakojimo literatūriškumas irgi iš detektyvų nepasidaro, tai biški neatitinka. Dramatinė pabaiga - ji kaip ir logiškai susiklosto iš pasakojimo, nu bet kaaaam. Pats pasakojimo pobūdis - nenoriu per daug spoilinti, bet tai irgi tokio pasakojimo iš vieno taško variacija kaip Kompase. Nu kiek galima prisimint retrospektyviai tuos savo gyvenimus, ką aš žinau, atsibodo :)
Ir kiek galima rašyt tokios perspektyvos pasakojimus, alio. Tai apie ką ta garsioji Enard'o "Zona" - jaunuolis netoli mirties pasakoja savo gyvenimą iš kalėjimo?
AŠ NESU MAROKIETIS, AŠ ESU DAUGIAU NEGU TAI. Jo, tu esi Enard'as ir tau prieinamos visos perspektyvos, we get it.
Už teksto gražumą ir pasakojimo sklandumą duočiau 4*, bet už dramą numušu, nes AŠ ESU DAUGIAU NEGU TAI.
September 11, 2018
المحزن أننا نلاقي عمل فرنسي بشيء من التجاوز نقدر نعتبره عمل جيد عن ثورات الربيع العربي حتى لو لم تكن احداث تلك الثورات في صلب أحداث الرواية نفسها.
عمل قوي صادم حقيقي معبر عن مرحلة الشباب بتقلباتها واحلامها وضياعها، عمل يأتي من مثقف يقدر ثقافات الشعوب التي يكتب عنها، فتارة يذكر نجيب محفوظ وأخرى يستفيض في الحديث عن محمد شكري، يعرف التحرير وما جرى فيه وتونس وثورتها.
عمل مميز فعلا، وبداية علاقة لي مع الكاتب لن تنتهي قريبا.
عمل قوي صادم حقيقي معبر عن مرحلة الشباب بتقلباتها واحلامها وضياعها، عمل يأتي من مثقف يقدر ثقافات الشعوب التي يكتب عنها، فتارة يذكر نجيب محفوظ وأخرى يستفيض في الحديث عن محمد شكري، يعرف التحرير وما جرى فيه وتونس وثورتها.
عمل مميز فعلا، وبداية علاقة لي مع الكاتب لن تنتهي قريبا.
July 20, 2015
DISCLAIMER: I am the publisher of the book and thus spent approximately two years reading and editing and working on it. So take my review with a grain of salt, or the understanding that I am deeply invested in this text and know it quite well. Also, I would really appreciate it if you would purchase this book, since it would benefit Open Letter directly.
This isn't Zone 2.0. It's a much different book, more linear, and with infinity percent more periods. But it's still incredibly amazing--captivating from the first chapter to the logical, disturbing end. I think this is going to take off when it comes out this fall, since it offers such interesting insights into the Arab Spring and growing up in today's tumultuous climate. This is a great book club book as well, with all the questions it raises, and is incredibly well written and translated.
This isn't Zone 2.0. It's a much different book, more linear, and with infinity percent more periods. But it's still incredibly amazing--captivating from the first chapter to the logical, disturbing end. I think this is going to take off when it comes out this fall, since it offers such interesting insights into the Arab Spring and growing up in today's tumultuous climate. This is a great book club book as well, with all the questions it raises, and is incredibly well written and translated.
December 26, 2020
4+
Patiko. Tikrai verta dėmesio
Patiko. Tikrai verta dėmesio
August 6, 2021
Nežinau, ko tikėjausi iš šios knygos, bet tikrai ne to, ką gavau. Gerokai nuvalkiotas ir atsibodęs naratyvas apie tai, su kokiais sunkumais susiduria moterys musulmonės, čia apverčiamas aukštyn kojomis � autorius nagrinėja jauno musulmono išgyvenimus. Tikrai yra apie ką pagalvoti ir tie patyrimai ne ką mažiau įdomūs bei intriguojantys nei moterų istorijos.
Dėmesio centre Lakmaras - jaunas musulmonas vaikinas iš Tanžero. Jis gimsta neturtingoje šalyje vargingoje šeimoje ir yra varžomas įvairių musulmoniškų papročių. Lakmaro situacija įdomiai sąveikauja su jo prigimtiniu liberalizmu ir moderniu požiūriu į pasaulį. Jaunas vyras turi begalinę aistrą gyvenimui, nuotykiams, moterims, bet jo tikėjimas, jo šeima ir aplinka tarsi siena saugo nuo visų įmanomų malonumų. Skaitant atsiminiau amžinatilsį Irenos Veisaitės žodžius apie tai, kad nei vienas mūsų nepasirenkame kuo gimti. Lakmaras taip pat. Didžioji jo gyvenimo tragedija � tai, kas jis yra, niekaip negali pritapti toje aplinkoje, kurioje gimė. Dalykai, tokie įprasti kiekvienam vakariečiui: kelionės, meilė, mokslas, aistra, jam nepasiekiami.
Imponavo autoriaus pasakojimo maniera. Sodrus pasakojimas, reikalaujantis susikaupimo, skatinantis mąstyti, gilus, bet nėra pernelyg sunkus. Maloniai ir gana greitai skaitosi. Be to dabar jau žinau kad tai tas pats autorius parašęs „Kompasą�. Žinoma, po tokio įspūdžio „Kompasas� jau įtrauktas į mano norimų perskaityti knygų sąrašą.
Trumpai apie pavadinimą � Vagių gatvė yra tikra. Ji randasi Barselonoje ir yra tikras tautų katilas. Svarbu ir tai, kad tai gatvė, kurioje pagrinde gyvena paraščių žmonės � nepritapėliai, atstumtieji, nesuprastieji. Prieglobstį čia randa narkotikų prekeiviai, prostitutės, vagys. Vagių gatvėje teko pagyventi ir knygos autoriui, kad geriau įsijausti į rašomą kūrinį.
Vienas pagrindinių šio kūrinio tikslų � mažinti baimę arabiškąjam pasauliui ir didinti supratimą apie jo ypatumus. Kaip autoriui pavyko � spręskite patys.
Kam skaityti? Jeigu norisi pasinerti į musulmoniškojo pasaulio realijas ypač iš vyriškos perspektyvos, geriau bei giliau jas suprasti � kviečiu skaityti.
Dėmesio centre Lakmaras - jaunas musulmonas vaikinas iš Tanžero. Jis gimsta neturtingoje šalyje vargingoje šeimoje ir yra varžomas įvairių musulmoniškų papročių. Lakmaro situacija įdomiai sąveikauja su jo prigimtiniu liberalizmu ir moderniu požiūriu į pasaulį. Jaunas vyras turi begalinę aistrą gyvenimui, nuotykiams, moterims, bet jo tikėjimas, jo šeima ir aplinka tarsi siena saugo nuo visų įmanomų malonumų. Skaitant atsiminiau amžinatilsį Irenos Veisaitės žodžius apie tai, kad nei vienas mūsų nepasirenkame kuo gimti. Lakmaras taip pat. Didžioji jo gyvenimo tragedija � tai, kas jis yra, niekaip negali pritapti toje aplinkoje, kurioje gimė. Dalykai, tokie įprasti kiekvienam vakariečiui: kelionės, meilė, mokslas, aistra, jam nepasiekiami.
Imponavo autoriaus pasakojimo maniera. Sodrus pasakojimas, reikalaujantis susikaupimo, skatinantis mąstyti, gilus, bet nėra pernelyg sunkus. Maloniai ir gana greitai skaitosi. Be to dabar jau žinau kad tai tas pats autorius parašęs „Kompasą�. Žinoma, po tokio įspūdžio „Kompasas� jau įtrauktas į mano norimų perskaityti knygų sąrašą.
Trumpai apie pavadinimą � Vagių gatvė yra tikra. Ji randasi Barselonoje ir yra tikras tautų katilas. Svarbu ir tai, kad tai gatvė, kurioje pagrinde gyvena paraščių žmonės � nepritapėliai, atstumtieji, nesuprastieji. Prieglobstį čia randa narkotikų prekeiviai, prostitutės, vagys. Vagių gatvėje teko pagyventi ir knygos autoriui, kad geriau įsijausti į rašomą kūrinį.
Vienas pagrindinių šio kūrinio tikslų � mažinti baimę arabiškąjam pasauliui ir didinti supratimą apie jo ypatumus. Kaip autoriui pavyko � spręskite patys.
Kam skaityti? Jeigu norisi pasinerti į musulmoniškojo pasaulio realijas ypač iš vyriškos perspektyvos, geriau bei giliau jas suprasti � kviečiu skaityti.
February 15, 2017
Not as weird as I expected from the twisty, angular cover design - the structure is straightforwardly linear - nor from the author's reputation preceding him for the sort-of-single-sentence , but Street of Thieves was interesting in its own right as a story. At first it seemed like it might be an explanatory socio-political case study moulded into a novel, much like , which similarly featured directionless young working-class Moroccan guys seduced to varying degrees by well-funded radical Islamic organisations. Except this book also takes in dead-end jobs, illegal immigrant experiences, the economic difficulties of Spain, and the Occupy movement. (Though it was at least obvious from the start that by making the narrator Lakhdar essentially convincing, Énard avoided the massive flaw of Horses of God, in which extremists' ghosts suddenly acquired, post-mortem, an understanding of their situations very similar to those of the liberal Western readers the book was written for. This narrator's bildungsroman, by contrast, makes sense. That's to say I find the narrator convincing - for more informed opinions, you'd be better reading posts by twentysomething guys from Arab backgrounds or at least their mates; this novel, like Horses is also written by an academic a couple of decades older than his main characters.)
It was about a third of the way through that I really started to like Street of Thieves as a story, as more than an extended example from a textbook or long-read news feature, noting at the end "Lakhdar is a composite of several interviewees" - although even before that, wrenching descriptions of certain feelings and situations - as well as plot points that felt more fiction than fact - occasionally made it clear it was, at heart, a novel. Most of these descriptions are rather long and detailed, but I thought Énard especially, vividly, good on what it's like taking leave of someone you like but don't know well after a night out. And, something I'm not sure I'd really seen described before, but which in my own way I've got to know in recent years: how comfortable and necessary it can be to knowingly hide one's head in the sand, live with blinkers on, and that there are some situations in which it may be the best way to feel a decent quality of life: those weeks... seem to me like a somber happiness, the edge of a razor, and you don't know whose throat it's going to cut: just as the tightrope walker must defy the possibility of falling in order to concentrate on his footsteps - he looks in front of him, gently maneuvers the pole that saves him from the abyss, advances towards the unknown - I was walking without thinking about the fate that had pushed me towards Barcelona; like an animal, I could sense the storm to come, around me, inside me, while at the same time putting it out of my mind so I'd be able to cross the void.
Recalling instances of the old colleague or acquaintance who returned from holiday in Turkey and complained about the sleazy waiters and other local men who tried to chat up her and her sister (for some reason it was a popular destination for these women to go to with their sisters), it was intriguing to hear the other side of the story about this type of young man who is routinely, necessarily batted away. Reading of course, means not being put on the spot by such guys, perhaps wanting simultaneously to understand and assert oneself, whilst knowing that sounding sympathetic could easily give the wrong signal. Here were Lakhdar and his mate wandering the streets of Tangier hoping to get the courage together to chat up European tourists near their own age, as their compatriots were forbidden to them, and, yes, unfortunately their attitudes aren't likely to get on the right side of most of the objects of their desire. And he's one of those hapless men from thousands of miles away who send social media and dating messages so desperate and vague that our perspective is "why do they even think this would work?":
I looked at a few Internet sites, sent some Facebook messages to girls I didn't know, all French, like throwing bottles into the sea. 'I am a young Moroccan from Tangier, I'm looking for friendship to share my passion: books.' [So typical simply to mention nebulous 'books' rather than to start a conversation about a specific one, asking and stating some opinions, which, if one is lucky, might at least provoke a reply in some idle moment of boredom.]
I'll show you ladies how cultivated I am, I thought, hence the note about the books, slightly exaggerated perhaps, but sober and precise. I should add that I chose girls who definitely were pretty, but who wore glasses and who came from cities I knew nothing about, but imagined were cold, boring, and thus propitious for reading. (It goes without saying that I never received a reply.)
Lakhdar actually has plenty of worth to say about books to the reader of Street of Thieves. Novels about big readers can be a bit of a self-referential yawnfest, but this is a) not yr usual selection of texts and b) an autodidact with a tough life, who sometimes is too overworked to read, sometimes plain can't get books - rather than the Brooklyn-based hipster whose taste is already ultra-familiar. Tattered classic European noir and thrillers (e.g. Manchette, Izzo) are Lakhdar's favourites among the small selection of affordable non-Islamic books he can find in Morocco - fans of those will find stuff of interest here; there may also be hidden references to these novels I was oblivious to. (For those who know the Tangier-expat literary tradition, there may or may not also be a few easter eggs - I've read next to none of it.) And there is loads here about classical Arabic literature and poetry that will likely be fascinating to people trying to explore that. During Lakhdar's travels, to Tunisia and ultimately to Spain as an illegal immigrant, his favourite touchstone is Ibn Battuta. It was also revealing to hear him describe French and Spanish love poetry as "dry", showing that it goes both ways, given that some Europeans find the translated Arabic equivalents too flowery and heavy. (Intriguing too, to hear about linguistic nuances, this when trying to communicate across a language barrier: You try acting funny and charming in literary Arabic, it's no piece of cake, believe me; people will always think you're about to announce another catastrophe in Palestine or comment on a verse of the Koran.) Lakhdar is one of those people who just can't help engaging in detail with material: I could relate to the way that when employed for menial data-entry work (of historical records) he started reading lots around the content subject in his spare time - and that's the reflex that makes an autodidact in the first place.
It was still the sort of novel that makes you feel like you've learned something - and for some readers, non-fiction might be preferable - but it was also a good story along the way, with the moments of experiential insight that novels do well. (Interesting, too, to read this straight after Houellebecq's and see a philosophical journey in approximately the opposite direction.) And I suspect that those who know more of the books that Lakhdar reads will get more out of it again.
It was about a third of the way through that I really started to like Street of Thieves as a story, as more than an extended example from a textbook or long-read news feature, noting at the end "Lakhdar is a composite of several interviewees" - although even before that, wrenching descriptions of certain feelings and situations - as well as plot points that felt more fiction than fact - occasionally made it clear it was, at heart, a novel. Most of these descriptions are rather long and detailed, but I thought Énard especially, vividly, good on what it's like taking leave of someone you like but don't know well after a night out. And, something I'm not sure I'd really seen described before, but which in my own way I've got to know in recent years: how comfortable and necessary it can be to knowingly hide one's head in the sand, live with blinkers on, and that there are some situations in which it may be the best way to feel a decent quality of life: those weeks... seem to me like a somber happiness, the edge of a razor, and you don't know whose throat it's going to cut: just as the tightrope walker must defy the possibility of falling in order to concentrate on his footsteps - he looks in front of him, gently maneuvers the pole that saves him from the abyss, advances towards the unknown - I was walking without thinking about the fate that had pushed me towards Barcelona; like an animal, I could sense the storm to come, around me, inside me, while at the same time putting it out of my mind so I'd be able to cross the void.
Recalling instances of the old colleague or acquaintance who returned from holiday in Turkey and complained about the sleazy waiters and other local men who tried to chat up her and her sister (for some reason it was a popular destination for these women to go to with their sisters), it was intriguing to hear the other side of the story about this type of young man who is routinely, necessarily batted away. Reading of course, means not being put on the spot by such guys, perhaps wanting simultaneously to understand and assert oneself, whilst knowing that sounding sympathetic could easily give the wrong signal. Here were Lakhdar and his mate wandering the streets of Tangier hoping to get the courage together to chat up European tourists near their own age, as their compatriots were forbidden to them, and, yes, unfortunately their attitudes aren't likely to get on the right side of most of the objects of their desire. And he's one of those hapless men from thousands of miles away who send social media and dating messages so desperate and vague that our perspective is "why do they even think this would work?":
I looked at a few Internet sites, sent some Facebook messages to girls I didn't know, all French, like throwing bottles into the sea. 'I am a young Moroccan from Tangier, I'm looking for friendship to share my passion: books.' [So typical simply to mention nebulous 'books' rather than to start a conversation about a specific one, asking and stating some opinions, which, if one is lucky, might at least provoke a reply in some idle moment of boredom.]
I'll show you ladies how cultivated I am, I thought, hence the note about the books, slightly exaggerated perhaps, but sober and precise. I should add that I chose girls who definitely were pretty, but who wore glasses and who came from cities I knew nothing about, but imagined were cold, boring, and thus propitious for reading. (It goes without saying that I never received a reply.)
Lakhdar actually has plenty of worth to say about books to the reader of Street of Thieves. Novels about big readers can be a bit of a self-referential yawnfest, but this is a) not yr usual selection of texts and b) an autodidact with a tough life, who sometimes is too overworked to read, sometimes plain can't get books - rather than the Brooklyn-based hipster whose taste is already ultra-familiar. Tattered classic European noir and thrillers (e.g. Manchette, Izzo) are Lakhdar's favourites among the small selection of affordable non-Islamic books he can find in Morocco - fans of those will find stuff of interest here; there may also be hidden references to these novels I was oblivious to. (For those who know the Tangier-expat literary tradition, there may or may not also be a few easter eggs - I've read next to none of it.) And there is loads here about classical Arabic literature and poetry that will likely be fascinating to people trying to explore that. During Lakhdar's travels, to Tunisia and ultimately to Spain as an illegal immigrant, his favourite touchstone is Ibn Battuta. It was also revealing to hear him describe French and Spanish love poetry as "dry", showing that it goes both ways, given that some Europeans find the translated Arabic equivalents too flowery and heavy. (Intriguing too, to hear about linguistic nuances, this when trying to communicate across a language barrier: You try acting funny and charming in literary Arabic, it's no piece of cake, believe me; people will always think you're about to announce another catastrophe in Palestine or comment on a verse of the Koran.) Lakhdar is one of those people who just can't help engaging in detail with material: I could relate to the way that when employed for menial data-entry work (of historical records) he started reading lots around the content subject in his spare time - and that's the reflex that makes an autodidact in the first place.
It was still the sort of novel that makes you feel like you've learned something - and for some readers, non-fiction might be preferable - but it was also a good story along the way, with the moments of experiential insight that novels do well. (Interesting, too, to read this straight after Houellebecq's and see a philosophical journey in approximately the opposite direction.) And I suspect that those who know more of the books that Lakhdar reads will get more out of it again.
February 27, 2021
Làm sao đ� viết một cuốn sách ngập tràn chính tr� mà không khô khan, vẫn đầy tính văn chương ch� không hô hào, khẩu hiệu, vẫn tràn đầy thấu cảm ch� không thiên v� một ai, đó là điều mà Mathias Enard đã làm được qua cuốn tiểu thuyết này.
Nổi danh với "Compass" - cuốn tiểu thuyết giúp ông đoạt giải Goncourt và lọt vào chung khảo Booker International, nhưng đây là cuốn sách đầu tiên tôi đọc của ông và tôi thật s� bất ng� với giọng văn thật đặc biệt này. K� v� Lakhdar, t� Taringer đến Barcelona trong cái con đường đi tìm kiếm s� t� do và t� đó thấu hiểu cái giá của s� trưởng thành, Mathias Enard đã ch� cho ta thấy s� xung đột tôn giáo, th� h�, sắc tộc, tầng lớp, giàu nghèo, chính tr�... đã ảnh hưởng sâu sắc đến cuộc sống của chúng ta như th� nào với một giọng văn đầy bạo lực nhưng cũng rất nên thơ, đầy nỗi buồn xen lẫn những chua chát của cuộc đời và những tình tiết đầy cảm xúc v� thân phận của một con người trong đất nước có nhiều loạn lạc, v� tình yêu đã chia r� và hàn gắn chúng ta ra sao, v� việc sách v� và văn chương có ý nghĩa gì trong cuộc đời đầy bắt trắc này.
Nhưng thật buồn làm sao, rốt cuộc thì tất c� những điều đó, vẫn thật b� tắc.
Nổi danh với "Compass" - cuốn tiểu thuyết giúp ông đoạt giải Goncourt và lọt vào chung khảo Booker International, nhưng đây là cuốn sách đầu tiên tôi đọc của ông và tôi thật s� bất ng� với giọng văn thật đặc biệt này. K� v� Lakhdar, t� Taringer đến Barcelona trong cái con đường đi tìm kiếm s� t� do và t� đó thấu hiểu cái giá của s� trưởng thành, Mathias Enard đã ch� cho ta thấy s� xung đột tôn giáo, th� h�, sắc tộc, tầng lớp, giàu nghèo, chính tr�... đã ảnh hưởng sâu sắc đến cuộc sống của chúng ta như th� nào với một giọng văn đầy bạo lực nhưng cũng rất nên thơ, đầy nỗi buồn xen lẫn những chua chát của cuộc đời và những tình tiết đầy cảm xúc v� thân phận của một con người trong đất nước có nhiều loạn lạc, v� tình yêu đã chia r� và hàn gắn chúng ta ra sao, v� việc sách v� và văn chương có ý nghĩa gì trong cuộc đời đầy bắt trắc này.
Nhưng thật buồn làm sao, rốt cuộc thì tất c� những điều đó, vẫn thật b� tắc.
December 8, 2014
Reviewed for 3 AM: .
Recommended for anyone interested in but maybe daunted by . Straightforward, supercontemporary (includes events from April 2012), forward-flowing prose animating a narrator superficially unlike the author, champions complexities of humanity over reductions of race, region, religion.
Recommended for anyone interested in but maybe daunted by . Straightforward, supercontemporary (includes events from April 2012), forward-flowing prose animating a narrator superficially unlike the author, champions complexities of humanity over reductions of race, region, religion.
January 21, 2019
Arap baharı, Occupy ve Öfkeliler eylemleriyle dünyada yeni arayışlar yeni umutların kapılarını açarken, diğer taraftan siyasi islamın karanlık katliamları dünyayı sarmışken, fransızca polisiye roman meraklısı faslı genç bir göçmen arabın zorunluluklarla ve tesadüflerle Tanca’da başlayıp Barcelona’da son bulan hikayesi. Günümüzü daha iyi anlamanın bir yolu da iyi bir yazardan güncel bir roman okumak...
Sarı yeleklilerden yaklaşık on yıl önce yazılmış olsa da eylemleri sanki öngörmüş Enard:
“Paris’le ilgili tablo hiç iç açıcı değildi� herkese birer çadır verilip insanların sokak ortasında kaldırımda yatırıldığı yoksul taburları; herkesin işsiz olduğu, hafta sonları can sıkıntısından arabaları ateşe vermekten başka bir halt etmedikleri, Tanrı’nın ve insanların terk ettiği bitmek bilmeyen banliyöler� ve hele o kin, o şehirde hissedilen kin ve şiddeti aklınız almaz. Haberlerde her gün bu nefretin arttığını duyarsınız. İnanın bana, hiç farkında değiller, bu işin sonu dosdoğru patlamaya gider.�
Yazar, siyasal islamcıları ve politikacıların onları hangi amaçlarla kullandıklarını açık bir şekilde anlatıyor.
“Bu saldırıların İslam karşıtı nefret ve kini tırmandırmak ve arkasından gelecek zulüm ve baskıyı haklı göstermek amacıyla aşırı sağcı faşistler tarafından alttan alta desteklendiğini düşünüyordu. Manchette’in bir deyimini hatırladım, hangi kitapta geçtiğini bilmiyorum, aynı bokun soyu, lafıydı bu.�
“İslamcılar, bize ait olması gereken dinimizi bizden çalan yaşlı muhafazakarlar. Bize sundukları tek şey yasaklamalar ve baskı. Arap solu greve takılıp kalmış eski sendikacılardan ibaret. Peki, beni kim temsil edecek?�
Sarı yeleklilerden yaklaşık on yıl önce yazılmış olsa da eylemleri sanki öngörmüş Enard:
“Paris’le ilgili tablo hiç iç açıcı değildi� herkese birer çadır verilip insanların sokak ortasında kaldırımda yatırıldığı yoksul taburları; herkesin işsiz olduğu, hafta sonları can sıkıntısından arabaları ateşe vermekten başka bir halt etmedikleri, Tanrı’nın ve insanların terk ettiği bitmek bilmeyen banliyöler� ve hele o kin, o şehirde hissedilen kin ve şiddeti aklınız almaz. Haberlerde her gün bu nefretin arttığını duyarsınız. İnanın bana, hiç farkında değiller, bu işin sonu dosdoğru patlamaya gider.�
Yazar, siyasal islamcıları ve politikacıların onları hangi amaçlarla kullandıklarını açık bir şekilde anlatıyor.
“Bu saldırıların İslam karşıtı nefret ve kini tırmandırmak ve arkasından gelecek zulüm ve baskıyı haklı göstermek amacıyla aşırı sağcı faşistler tarafından alttan alta desteklendiğini düşünüyordu. Manchette’in bir deyimini hatırladım, hangi kitapta geçtiğini bilmiyorum, aynı bokun soyu, lafıydı bu.�
“İslamcılar, bize ait olması gereken dinimizi bizden çalan yaşlı muhafazakarlar. Bize sundukları tek şey yasaklamalar ve baskı. Arap solu greve takılıp kalmış eski sendikacılardan ibaret. Peki, beni kim temsil edecek?�
December 3, 2024
Énard traces the life of Lakhdar, a young Moroccan from his life as a not quite adult teenager in Tangiers through a series of midadventures to Barcelona. Not exactly a Bildungsroman, although Lakhdar does develop a bit in spite of himself. The novel falls into three parts: Lakhdar's life in Tangiers, a period (Barszakh, a Bardo like-stretch) trapped in a Spanish port town, and Barcelona, where he lives on the eponymous Street of Thieves. Along the way, Énard explores East-West cultural conflicts, Lakhdar's off and on relationship with Judit, and the general despair of those trapped in cultural and religious divides. He frequently stops to examine the role of memory and the role of books in life. He also has an eye for the absurd and bizarre. Cruz, the repatriator of corpses, drunk, and addict to graphic violence, being a case in point.
The book is well written, with surprising twists. The reader is frequently torn between sympathy for Lakhdar and a keen desire to slap some sense into him. The end is something of a surprise. Not that the narrative could not lead to the conclusion, but it is far from inevitable.
The book is well written, with surprising twists. The reader is frequently torn between sympathy for Lakhdar and a keen desire to slap some sense into him. The end is something of a surprise. Not that the narrative could not lead to the conclusion, but it is far from inevitable.
January 29, 2015
life consumes everything - books accompany us, like my two penny thrillers, those proletarians of literature, travel companions, in revolt or resignation, in faith or abandonment.mathias énard's street of thieves (rue des voleurs) captivates from its first (lengthy!) paragraph to its unexpected conclusion. the novel's main character, a young moroccan named lakhdar, is remarkably conceived and vividly portrayed. inexplicably, street of thieves is somehow like lazarillo de tormes set during the arab spring.
a sky of infinite blackness, that was what was waiting for us - today in my library, where the fury of the world has been muffled by the walls, i watch the series of cataclysms like one who, in a supposedly safe shelter, feels the floor vibrating, the walls trembling, and wonders how much longer he'll be able to preserve his life: outside, everything seems to be nothing but darkness.
*translated from the french by charlotte mandell (flaubert, proust, maupassant, lévy, et al.)
November 20, 2017
Not my thing, and I felt that all the more because I was coming to this from the fascinating Compass, and knew that Enard's other Englished novel is a five-hundred page sentence. All of that suggests a fascination with form and ideas. This book is... this book is Dickens, written by a Frenchman. The book gives us a perfectly linear narrative, with a few vaguely connected events, and much of it, frankly, is silly: how much can you read about one man's ogling before you cease to care?
I can justify this in two ways. First, Enard was just trying something different, but different for him happened to be a solid realistic novel. If that's the case, well, I guess he pulled it off. There's plenty of characters and melo-dear-god-did-we-really-need-to-throw-cancer-in-with-the-terrorism?-drama here. Second, Enard is slyly mocking the self-righteousness of many contemporary readers (including myself), who will be miffed by the idea that a Moroccan man might actually find the freedoms of Europe enticing. And I was miffed, and then convinced that I was being a dullard, and that of course, there are many, many things about the west that are deeply desirable. I'm just not convinced that that main one is sexual promiscuity.
Alternatively, I guess, this is just straight nihilism: Europe is morally decayed, North Africa is morally decayed, we're all morally decayed. That seems about right.
I can justify this in two ways. First, Enard was just trying something different, but different for him happened to be a solid realistic novel. If that's the case, well, I guess he pulled it off. There's plenty of characters and melo-dear-god-did-we-really-need-to-throw-cancer-in-with-the-terrorism?-drama here. Second, Enard is slyly mocking the self-righteousness of many contemporary readers (including myself), who will be miffed by the idea that a Moroccan man might actually find the freedoms of Europe enticing. And I was miffed, and then convinced that I was being a dullard, and that of course, there are many, many things about the west that are deeply desirable. I'm just not convinced that that main one is sexual promiscuity.
Alternatively, I guess, this is just straight nihilism: Europe is morally decayed, North Africa is morally decayed, we're all morally decayed. That seems about right.
February 21, 2015
تعجبني جدا الروايات السردية التي تروى بلسان الكاتب فقط .. فيها لا تختلط الشخصيات ببعض ولا يضيع القارئ بين مجمل أحداث الرواية . شارع اللصوص رواية مفعمة بالاحداث والتفاصيل والأحاسيس الجياشة اللغة فيها شاعرية سلسة ولا تخلو من الفكاهة أحيانا برغم من أحداثها الحزينة والأليمة .. تكشف لنا معاناة الشباب العربي في ظل ما سمي بالربيع العربي. لخضر ذلك الفتى المغربي من مدينة طنجة والذي يبدأ حياته بمآسي وضياع وتشتت وهو الشاب الباحث عن الحب والحالم بحياة هادئة ، لكن تجبره الظروف وبعض الحماقات الشبابية الطائشة أن يعيش مرارة الغربة والضياع داخل وطنه وخارجة أيضا وبرغم كل ما تعرض له من انكسارات وضغوط حياتية صعبه الا انه لم ينجر وراء الاعمال الارهابية وعالم التفجيرات على عكس صديقه بسام الذي عاني نفس الويلات الى حد ما وكان كل حلمه ان يترك طنجة ويهاجر الى دولة اوروبية أو امريكا لينعم بحياة هانئة وعيشة كريمة لكنه صار طعم سهل لبعض التنظيمات الاسلامية المتشددة والتي كان يقودها الشيخ نور الدين الذي استغل اندفاعه وفقره وطيبته ليستعمله اداه للعنف والقتل . الكاتب المبدع حبك هذه الرواية بدقة متناهية ولم يغفل عن ذكر ما يعانيه العرب من هموم سياسية واجتماعية وحتى الدينية منها رغم كونه فرنسي الولادة والجنسية لكنه عايش العرب لفترة طويلة واتقن لغتهم وتعرف على عاداتهم وطبيعة همومهم فكتب بلغة عربية الأدب فرنسية الحروف من الصعب جدا أن تتخيلها رواية مترجمة .
November 24, 2013
رواية فرنسية عن مراهق مغربي يعيش بطنجة في زمن الربيع العربي - أو كما سمّوه - و في بيت والدٍ متشدد نسبياً يرتكب خطيئته الأولى مع قريبته مريم و على أثر ذلك يُلقى في الشارع و ليست مريم بأكبر حظٍ من بطل الرواية ( الاخضر ) حيث يتم نفيها إلى السهوب عند أخيها المتطرف. يطيل الحديث عن المغرب و الشباب العربي و حلم الحرية و تعطشهم إلى معجزة أو ثورة في أسوأ الأحوال تقوم بإصلاح كل شيء. يرافق ذلك حياة متقلبة للاخضر و تعيسة في الغالب بعلاقة حب مع سائحة إسبانية و من ثم حلم الهجرة و ما يحدث من مآسٍ هناك في الغربة. الرواية تتألف من ثلاثة فصول و قد بدأت متوهجة ثم أخذ يخبو وميضها مع تقدم الصفحات. المؤلف فرنسي كما أسلفت و قد درس العربية و الفارسية و ستصدمك كم المعلومات التي يعرفها - عن إدراك أو بدون - و سيأخذك من كهوف طنجة و يمضي بك في البحر الأبيض المتوسط و من ثم برشلونة و شارع الرامبلا و غير بعيدٍ منه الشارع الذي أخذت عنه الرواية عنوانها كما لن يدع التاريخ و ستشاهد بن بطوطه أكثر من مرة.
August 27, 2017
لا اعرف مالذي دهاني لأستعير هذه الرواية من المكتبة اخذتها هكذا بدون تفكير حتى انني لم اقرأ نبذة عن الكتاب..
عندما بدأت بقرائتها لم تعجبني صفحاتها الاولى كثيرا ولكن ما ان وصلت القسم الثاني من الرواية حتى أصبحت مغرمة بهذه الرواية، فبسبب تلك الخطيئة أدت بالشاب لخضر الى حياة لم يتصورها بيوم من الأيام ربما لو انه اعترف بذنبه واعتذر لما حصل معه كل تلك الأحداث ،
ربما حالنا نحن ايضا هكذا فبسبب اخطائنا قد تذهب بِنَا الحياة الى واقع واحداث لم نكن نتصورها..
وهذه بعض السطور التي استوقفتني في هذه الرواية:
1- الحياة شيء مضحك، تدبير غامض، منطق لا رحمة فيه لأجل قدر عقيم.
2-هل تريد ان أقول لك شيئاً اخي لخضر، كل هذه الثورات العربية هي مؤامرات أمريكية لكي يخْصُونا.
3-لا نتذكر تماماً ما حصل لنا، ما حصل لنا حقاً؛ نعيد، على مر الزمن ، تشكيل ذكرياتنا.
عندما بدأت بقرائتها لم تعجبني صفحاتها الاولى كثيرا ولكن ما ان وصلت القسم الثاني من الرواية حتى أصبحت مغرمة بهذه الرواية، فبسبب تلك الخطيئة أدت بالشاب لخضر الى حياة لم يتصورها بيوم من الأيام ربما لو انه اعترف بذنبه واعتذر لما حصل معه كل تلك الأحداث ،
ربما حالنا نحن ايضا هكذا فبسبب اخطائنا قد تذهب بِنَا الحياة الى واقع واحداث لم نكن نتصورها..
وهذه بعض السطور التي استوقفتني في هذه الرواية:
1- الحياة شيء مضحك، تدبير غامض، منطق لا رحمة فيه لأجل قدر عقيم.
2-هل تريد ان أقول لك شيئاً اخي لخضر، كل هذه الثورات العربية هي مؤامرات أمريكية لكي يخْصُونا.
3-لا نتذكر تماماً ما حصل لنا، ما حصل لنا حقاً؛ نعيد، على مر الزمن ، تشكيل ذكرياتنا.
December 28, 2020
Una historia bastante anodina, de la que apenas comenzar tuve la sospecha que no iba a dejar mayor huella. Levanta algo al final, pero me queda la sensación de que con este tema reciente (la primavera arabe y los indignados españoles) se podía haber dado algún giro o complicación que tensionara una narración demasiado lineal que apenas logra mantener el interés.
August 1, 2023
Letto con fatica e noia. Vado controcorrente ma non posso fare a meno di dirlo: non è brutto, ma è estremamente prevedibile, direi quasi banale. Fin dalle prime pagine si intuisce tutto quello che verrà dopo e non c’� mai un guizzo che sorprenda. Il guaio è che Enard usa la forma del romanzo per esprimere, in verità, le sue idee politiche; per dirci quel che pensa della situazione in Marocco, nel Maghreb, degli estremisti islamici, dell’immigrazione clandestina, della crisi della Spagna, dei fallimenti dell’Europa - che non è poi niente di diverso da quello che pensa qualunque persona mediamente istruita. Crede che per trasformare le sue opinioni in un romanzo basti creare un po� di atmosfera, infilarci dentro qualche verso di poesia araba classica e uno sfondo di vicoli di Barcellona, con i ladri, le puttane, i tossici (con molti cliché e molte esagerazioni). Cita i suoi prediletti autori di gialli, imita Izzo. Di suo, veramente suo, non ci mette niente.
Invece non basta. La letteratura è un’altra cosa.
Invece non basta. La letteratura è un’altra cosa.
November 26, 2024
La emigración a Europa.
September 26, 2021
Pirmas sakinys: Žmonės � tai šunys, vargdami vargą jie trinasi vieni į kitus, voliojasi purve, nepajėgdami iš jo išbristi, kiaurą dieną laižo savo kailį ir lytį, tįsodami dulkėse, pasiruošę viskam dėl pašvinkusio mėsgalio ar supuvusio kaulo, kuriuos kas nors malonės jiems numesti; ir aš visai toks pat kaip ir jie, aš � žmogus, taigi supuvusi atmata, savo instinktų vergas, šuo, šuo, kuris kanda, kai bijo, ir nori būti paglostytas.
Knygą galima skaityti kaip:
� brendimo romaną.
� knygą apie vienatvę ir/ar visur buvimą svetimu.
� pasakojimą apie dideles svajones ir žlungančias viltis.
� besikeičiantį Magribą (Magrebą? Mahribą?) ir Arabų pavasarį (Arabų pavasario pralaimėjimą?).
� radikalizmo priežastis (plačiau � ne vien tik religinio ekstremizmo).
� Alberto Camus "Svetimas" parafrazę.
� melancholiška knygą.
Knyga skaitosi visiškai lengvai. Tiesa, pradžioje sutrikdė pasakojimo maniera, kai šokinėjama laike.
Nors knygos yra ne vienas netikėtas, nelauktas posūkis, tačiau pabaiga (Lakdaras nužudo Basamą) gerokai vožteli: kiek galima (jeigu iš viso galima?) pateisinti žmogžudystę?
Verta perskaityti dar kartą.
P. S. Mathias Enard atsakymas į kaltinimą kultūrine apropriacija (esą, kaip baltaodis vidutinio amžiaus vyras gali pasakoti pirmuoju asmeniu iš arabų kilmės jaunuolio perspektyvos): "Reikalas tas, kad, mano požiūriu, nėra skirtumo tarp manęs ir arabo, bet tikrai yra skirtumas tarp to, kiek man metų ir kokio amžiaus jaunuolio perspektyva pateikta romane. Ir keista, kad šis skirtumas kritikams visai neužkliuvo. Apskritai, kai pasakoji kažką iš pirmojo asmens perspektyvos � kas tuo metu tu esi? Kaip gali save įsivaizduoti? Ar galiu įsivaizduoti save moterimi? O lietuviu? O arabu iš Tanžero? Kur ribos? Aš asmeniškai kaip rašytojas ribų neturiu, tad galiu rašyti ir jauno žmogaus vardu. Aš naudojuosi literatūros teikiama galimybe save perkeisti. Žinoma, šis romanas yra mano kūrinys, aš � jo autorius, bet tai mano įsivaizdavimo rezultatas."
Knygą galima skaityti kaip:
� brendimo romaną.
� knygą apie vienatvę ir/ar visur buvimą svetimu.
� pasakojimą apie dideles svajones ir žlungančias viltis.
� besikeičiantį Magribą (Magrebą? Mahribą?) ir Arabų pavasarį (Arabų pavasario pralaimėjimą?).
� radikalizmo priežastis (plačiau � ne vien tik religinio ekstremizmo).
� Alberto Camus "Svetimas" parafrazę.
� melancholiška knygą.
Knyga skaitosi visiškai lengvai. Tiesa, pradžioje sutrikdė pasakojimo maniera, kai šokinėjama laike.
Nors knygos yra ne vienas netikėtas, nelauktas posūkis, tačiau pabaiga (Lakdaras nužudo Basamą) gerokai vožteli: kiek galima (jeigu iš viso galima?) pateisinti žmogžudystę?
Verta perskaityti dar kartą.
P. S. Mathias Enard atsakymas į kaltinimą kultūrine apropriacija (esą, kaip baltaodis vidutinio amžiaus vyras gali pasakoti pirmuoju asmeniu iš arabų kilmės jaunuolio perspektyvos): "Reikalas tas, kad, mano požiūriu, nėra skirtumo tarp manęs ir arabo, bet tikrai yra skirtumas tarp to, kiek man metų ir kokio amžiaus jaunuolio perspektyva pateikta romane. Ir keista, kad šis skirtumas kritikams visai neužkliuvo. Apskritai, kai pasakoji kažką iš pirmojo asmens perspektyvos � kas tuo metu tu esi? Kaip gali save įsivaizduoti? Ar galiu įsivaizduoti save moterimi? O lietuviu? O arabu iš Tanžero? Kur ribos? Aš asmeniškai kaip rašytojas ribų neturiu, tad galiu rašyti ir jauno žmogaus vardu. Aš naudojuosi literatūros teikiama galimybe save perkeisti. Žinoma, šis romanas yra mano kūrinys, aš � jo autorius, bet tai mano įsivaizdavimo rezultatas."
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 22, 2018
Read this book in translation, and not for the first time, found myself appreciating the skill and the poetry of a translator.
This is a story about a young Moroccan man's coming of age during a period of crisis (the Arab Spring) band also as a perceptive witness to that time. Dispossessed by his family when they discover his transgression with a cousin and thrown upon his own resources, he longs for love and pines for his lost connections. A mysterious, possibly shady cleric employs him and his childhood friend, who is similarly adrift. His friend, who is more biddable, is soon caught up in secret activities with the cleric, while Lakhdar is allowed to pursue more secular interests. But when circumstances involve him in violence, he flees, eventually leaving the country, facilitated by a sympathetic boss and a young Spanish student with whom he is romantically involved.
A dark, existential tale, sometimes horrific (a last drink with Cruz, the harvester of corpses of illegal immigrants drowned at sea), sometimes dreadful, as Lakhdar's suspicions of his old friend and the cleric teeter between confirmation and paranoia, sometimes lyrical and sad, lonely and yearning in a strange land.
Throughout, Lakhdar is comforted by and interprets his surroundings through books. He sells them, reads thrillers in different languages, finds meaning in the writings of a medieval Moroccan voyager. Books remain a haven at the story's end: "Life consumes everything--books accompany us, like my two-penny thrillers, those proletarians of literature, travel companions, in revolt or resignation, in faith or abandonment."
This is a story about a young Moroccan man's coming of age during a period of crisis (the Arab Spring) band also as a perceptive witness to that time. Dispossessed by his family when they discover his transgression with a cousin and thrown upon his own resources, he longs for love and pines for his lost connections. A mysterious, possibly shady cleric employs him and his childhood friend, who is similarly adrift. His friend, who is more biddable, is soon caught up in secret activities with the cleric, while Lakhdar is allowed to pursue more secular interests. But when circumstances involve him in violence, he flees, eventually leaving the country, facilitated by a sympathetic boss and a young Spanish student with whom he is romantically involved.
A dark, existential tale, sometimes horrific (a last drink with Cruz, the harvester of corpses of illegal immigrants drowned at sea), sometimes dreadful, as Lakhdar's suspicions of his old friend and the cleric teeter between confirmation and paranoia, sometimes lyrical and sad, lonely and yearning in a strange land.
Throughout, Lakhdar is comforted by and interprets his surroundings through books. He sells them, reads thrillers in different languages, finds meaning in the writings of a medieval Moroccan voyager. Books remain a haven at the story's end: "Life consumes everything--books accompany us, like my two-penny thrillers, those proletarians of literature, travel companions, in revolt or resignation, in faith or abandonment."
February 20, 2021
Jei jau reikėtų prie Mathias Énard kūrinio priklijuoti etiketę, užrašyčiau, kad tai � coming-of-age istorija.
Aštresnė nei matome Holivudo filmuose, bet turinti visus žanrui būdingus elementus:
🔺 savo vietos pasaulyje ieškantį pagrindinį veikėją
🔺 sudėtingus šeimos santykius
🔺 meilės dramas
🔺 bandymus suprasti, kas teisinga, kas � ne.
Viso to kaip ir užtektų, tačiau ne ką ne mažesnį vaidmenį istorijoje atlieka ir politinis kontekstas. Pirmojoje knygos dalyje stebime religinio ekstremizmo pakurstytus išpuolius pagrindinio veikėjo gimtajame Maroke. O vėliau persikeliame ir į Barseloną, kurioje vis dažniau prasiveržia protestai dėl Katalonijos nepriklausomybės.
Kūrinys iki skausmo atviras, brutalus; tiek tematika, tiek psichologiniu pagrindinio veikėjo portretu, ne veltui lyginamas su A. Kamiu „Svetimu�.
Aštresnė nei matome Holivudo filmuose, bet turinti visus žanrui būdingus elementus:
🔺 savo vietos pasaulyje ieškantį pagrindinį veikėją
🔺 sudėtingus šeimos santykius
🔺 meilės dramas
🔺 bandymus suprasti, kas teisinga, kas � ne.
Viso to kaip ir užtektų, tačiau ne ką ne mažesnį vaidmenį istorijoje atlieka ir politinis kontekstas. Pirmojoje knygos dalyje stebime religinio ekstremizmo pakurstytus išpuolius pagrindinio veikėjo gimtajame Maroke. O vėliau persikeliame ir į Barseloną, kurioje vis dažniau prasiveržia protestai dėl Katalonijos nepriklausomybės.
Kūrinys iki skausmo atviras, brutalus; tiek tematika, tiek psichologiniu pagrindinio veikėjo portretu, ne veltui lyginamas su A. Kamiu „Svetimu�.
June 15, 2013
Plus que l'arrière plan bouillonnant du printemps arabe ou des mouvements occupy, le rue des voleurs de M. Énard donne à lire la violence des rapports nord sud, celle des inégalités sociales, des illusions entretenues en vain de part et d'autre de la Méditerranée. les anciens mirages de l'Occident, de l'Europe sont devenu un cimetière marin; la Méditerranée qui en charrie les noyés en est la preuve.
Une seule certitude dans ce monde qui s'écroule, se recompose et s'embrase : la culture, la littérature est ce qui reste de tangible, la plus value qui élève le miséreux au dessus de la précarité de l'existence. Celle qui en fait un être conscient et lucide qui nous prêtre son regard pour dépeindre ces deux rives du Détroit, l'une tâchant de s'inventer un futur de zone franche l'autre tentant de survivre à l'austérité qui en sape les fondations. Une géopolitique à hauteur d'hommes perdus, révoltés ou en devenir.
Une seule certitude dans ce monde qui s'écroule, se recompose et s'embrase : la culture, la littérature est ce qui reste de tangible, la plus value qui élève le miséreux au dessus de la précarité de l'existence. Celle qui en fait un être conscient et lucide qui nous prêtre son regard pour dépeindre ces deux rives du Détroit, l'une tâchant de s'inventer un futur de zone franche l'autre tentant de survivre à l'austérité qui en sape les fondations. Une géopolitique à hauteur d'hommes perdus, révoltés ou en devenir.
April 7, 2024
At times this books shows all of Enard’s writing ability and is therefore a very fine book indeed. But I did not enjoy it as much as other of his books. Towards the end it also felt a little disjointed to me.
Yet, as with everything I have read by Enard, and I think I gave now read all of his books translated into English, this is a deep, thoughtful and complex novel about the experiences of an immigrant from Morocco coming to Europe. The central character is presented sympathetically and as well as the immigrant experience it traces the story of a man transitioning from boyhood to manhood and dealing with the challenges life throws at him - some of his own making.
Yet, as with everything I have read by Enard, and I think I gave now read all of his books translated into English, this is a deep, thoughtful and complex novel about the experiences of an immigrant from Morocco coming to Europe. The central character is presented sympathetically and as well as the immigrant experience it traces the story of a man transitioning from boyhood to manhood and dealing with the challenges life throws at him - some of his own making.
April 13, 2017
Und noch ein Buch, das mich sehr gefangen genommen hat - die Geschichte eines jungen Mannes aus Tanger, der Literatur liebt und Mädchen, der sich als Gläubigen Muslim sieht, auch wenn er sich nicht sklavisch an alle Regeln hält.
Der Weg, den er bis Barcelona zurück legt, wo er als Illegaler lebt,bietet dem Leser einen Einblick in eine verborgene Welt. Ein Buch, über das ich mich gerne mit anderen Lesern unterhalten würde....
Der Weg, den er bis Barcelona zurück legt, wo er als Illegaler lebt,bietet dem Leser einen Einblick in eine verborgene Welt. Ein Buch, über das ich mich gerne mit anderen Lesern unterhalten würde....
June 29, 2018
Sügav kiitus selle eest, et moslemi elu oli kajastatud liigsesse tragöödiasse takerdumata (Khaled Hosseini hollywoodilik öäk). Eks draamat oli ka üksjagu, et raamatule sisu ja tahku anda, aga see ei lämmatanud. Tärn läks maha lõpu eest, mida ootasin teistsugust. Või õieti ma ei oodanudki midagi konkreetset, lihtsalt mitte seda, mida pakuti. I-le jäi täpp panemata, ütleme nii.
October 12, 2019
Ortadoğu kültürüne oldukça hakim olan yazarın bu kitabında ana karakterin , kitap okumakla hayatının nasıl değiştiğini görüyor ve arap baharını oldukça sıkı bir hikayeyle anlatımını okuyoruz ..
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