Fionnuala's Reviews > Minor Detail
Minor Detail
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The title, Minor Detail, is very relevant to the plot of this excellent book, as you might expect—but it is also particularly relevant to my experience of reading it.
Minor Detail is divided into two parts.
Part One is a clinically told account of a crime that took place in newly occupied territory in southern Israel in 1949.
Part Two is a first person account, told some sixty years later, of a preoccupation with the 1949 crime because of a minor detail the narrator comes across in an old report about it.
The two parts read very differently. The second part, because of the emotional voice of the narrator, is a strong and welcome contrast to the cold and emotionless telling of the first part.
As I said, the entire short book is based on the coincidence of a particular minor detail: the fact that the original crime happened exactly twenty-five years before the birth of the narrator of the second part, a concurrence that made her determined to investigate the crime further. And the outcome of her investigation itself hinges on another minor detail. The book is very well named indeed.
But it wasn't those minor details that impressed me the most. No, it was the insertion into both sections of a number of other 'minor details' that turned out to mirror each other perfectly: the smell of petrol on clothing, a dog constantly barking, vulnerable girls, heat so intense it clouds judgement, mirages that cloud vision, an unnamed Palestinian person in a dangerous situation, nervous and trigger-happy Israeli soldiers.
And those details, added to the clinical narration of the first part of the book, triggered a reading memory for me: the story of Mersault in French-occupied Algeria in the 1940s. And so I took down Albert Camus's ³¢'ɳٰù²¹²Ô²µ±ð°ù from the bookshelf and re-read it. And there I found the barking dog, the heat that clouds judgement, vulnerable girls, mirages, an unnamed Algerian person in a dangerous situation, and a man who should never have been given a gun.
…â¶Ä¦â¶Ä¦â¶Ä¦â¶Ä�.
See further discussion of the two books in the comment thread.
Minor Detail is divided into two parts.
Part One is a clinically told account of a crime that took place in newly occupied territory in southern Israel in 1949.
Part Two is a first person account, told some sixty years later, of a preoccupation with the 1949 crime because of a minor detail the narrator comes across in an old report about it.
The two parts read very differently. The second part, because of the emotional voice of the narrator, is a strong and welcome contrast to the cold and emotionless telling of the first part.
As I said, the entire short book is based on the coincidence of a particular minor detail: the fact that the original crime happened exactly twenty-five years before the birth of the narrator of the second part, a concurrence that made her determined to investigate the crime further. And the outcome of her investigation itself hinges on another minor detail. The book is very well named indeed.
But it wasn't those minor details that impressed me the most. No, it was the insertion into both sections of a number of other 'minor details' that turned out to mirror each other perfectly: the smell of petrol on clothing, a dog constantly barking, vulnerable girls, heat so intense it clouds judgement, mirages that cloud vision, an unnamed Palestinian person in a dangerous situation, nervous and trigger-happy Israeli soldiers.
And those details, added to the clinical narration of the first part of the book, triggered a reading memory for me: the story of Mersault in French-occupied Algeria in the 1940s. And so I took down Albert Camus's ³¢'ɳٰù²¹²Ô²µ±ð°ù from the bookshelf and re-read it. And there I found the barking dog, the heat that clouds judgement, vulnerable girls, mirages, an unnamed Algerian person in a dangerous situation, and a man who should never have been given a gun.
…â¶Ä¦â¶Ä¦â¶Ä¦â¶Ä�.
See further discussion of the two books in the comment thread.
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Reading Progress
March 23, 2024
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March 25, 2024
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March 25, 2024
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Jeroen
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Apr 14, 2024 04:46AM

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It was a bookgroup choice, Ulysse, and has restored my faith in book groups! And yes, I was very happy that it unexpectedly pointed the way to my next read.

or the bright sunlight during the murder he commits. And exactly these details highlight Meursault's focus on the physical and immediate, rather than the abstract or emotional. And the seemingly insignificant detail of Meursault killing an Arab, being not premeditated, but rather an act influenced by the physical discomfort caused by the sun - at first sight even sounds parodic, if it did not reflect the absurdity of life, central to Camus' philosophy.
But if I were to crown a king of the minor detail, it would undoubtedly be Alfred Hitchcock.

Thanks for a great comment, Théo, and for pointing out the connection between the discomfort of the heat and the absurdity of life.
The crime that Adania Shibli tells us about via her fictional narrator really happened I think, and I initially didn't want to minimize the atrocity of it by comparing it to Camus's fiction except that I began to think that perhaps Adania Shibli had ³¢'ɳٰù²¹²Ô²µ±ð°ù somewhere in the back of her mind. In addition to the similarities I've already mentioned, both books are divided into two distinct parts, and the first part of each book ends with gunshots. There's a lot of focus on washing of hands in both books. There's even a line in Camus: 'un détail sans importance' which is the literal translation of Shibli's title.
And Mersault, commenting on the possible death of his girlfriend Marie, says, Morte, elle ne m'interessait plus which is exactly the way of thinking of the Israeli commander in the first half of Shibli's book. Like Mersault, he seems incapable of regret—and he is equally bothered by heat and strong sunlight—the lumière cru Camus emphasises at every turn.


How great it would be to have your well-read self in my book group, Candi!
I do recommend reading these two short powerful books together. A book-pairing, if not exactly made in heaven, at least made in desert heat. And in addition, Minor Detail is very relevant to today when Israeli soldiers are targeting Rafah, the city that many refugees from Gaza have fled towards. Rafah and refugees feature in Shibli's book.



here's another connection The Meursault Investigation by Kamel Daoud, in which the point of view is on the victim (I can't say it's a great book as a read from my point of view, but you are more expansive than me.)
I've noticed whenever a topic or conflict is white hot the origins of the conflict is lost, it becomes not only minor, but subsumed. Perhaps if it was present, more rational conversations might happen.
you've made me interested


here's another connection The Meursault Investigation by Kamel Daoud, in which the point of view is on the victim (I can't say it's a great book as a read from my point of view..."
Yes, I remember hearing about Daoud's retelling of Camus's story, Nick, and thinking I'd like to read it though I never did.
Shibli's book is very different from Daoud's, I suspect, and there's no possibility that it's a retelling. Her book is a completely new story, set in a different place, but for anyone who has read Camus, there have to be echoes, whether intentional or not. However, I've looked at other reviews and no one has mentioned Camus though I thought people would have.
I've noticed whenever a topic or conflict is white hot the origins of the conflict is lost, it becomes not only minor, but subsumed. Perhaps if it was present, more rational conversations might happen�
Yes, that definitely applies to Mersault's crime though you might argue that the possibility of it happening had been laid down already in the layers of things that had previously happened, going from his friend's abuse of an Arab girl (and his closing his eyes to it) right back to the colonization of Algeria by the French.
In Shibli's book, there is a similar chain of cause and consequence, including abuse of a girl and the person who might have prevented that doing nothing about it. And the causes go right back to the handing over of nomadic Palestinian lands in present day southern Israel to the Israelis.

But it is very interesting you find these connections, I wondered if it ran deeper in the book.

That was a hastily translated line for Daniel's benefit, Antigone, but I'm glad it struck you as important.
I realise I didn't say much about Shibli's Part II but I felt I couldn't reveal more without spoiling the reading experience for others. But let me assure you that her Part II is very very good. There's a lot about what it means to be a Palestinian woman today, and about what it means to be Palestinian once you put your foot outside of the West Bank—where the narrator normally lives.
And we need to remember that the crime described so dispassionately in Part I really happened. How it has been told is all down to the author's talent however. And her fictional telling of Part II shows great talent too.
That I saw echoes of Camus and the absurdity of life in it may be just a result of the idiosyncrasies of my reading mind and its habit of always always looking for literary connections. But the final minor detail in Shibli's account—a simple packet of chewing gum—is a reminder to me of the absurdity of this world we live in.

But it is very interesting you find these connections, I wondered if it ran deeper in the book."
The Daoud book about Mersault, right?
The more I think about Shibli's book the more connections I see with Camus's. But Shibli's is a fine book in its own right too.

But it is very interesting you find these connections, I wondered if it ran deeper in the book."
The Daoud book about Mersaul..."
Too many Mersaults, Fi. Yes, I meant the Daoud book.
This looks interesting. Thanks for the review.


Speaking of minor details, do you remember when this phrase marked you, and made you realize that the doppelgänger motif in a certain book was echoed in several other books you had read throughout the whole year ?

The main thing I continue to reflect on in Minor Detail, beyond the points you've brought up, is the author's restraint in the face of what must be terrible anger, both about the past situation and the present. I don't idealize short books, or the idea of "not a word wasted," but in the case of MD I think it's entirely true that not a word is wasted. That, and the conflicting tones of the two halves, really make it a striking piece of fiction (or semi-fiction).

Glad to have been able to remind you so vividly of your Camus reading experience, Katia.
The perpetrator of the crime in Shibli's book is only present in the first half so the author has a mere 50 pages to convey something of the nature of the person responsible for the atrocity—which she does manage to do very well, I think.
And the way she does it is unique and interesting. It's a close third person narrative—we see, hear, feel, and smell everything that the character experiences but we aren't privy to his thoughts. We can only guess at them from how he acts. He's unknown to us but exposed to us at the same time—which is what reminded me of Mersault whose mind we are in but whom we can never truly know.


Speaking of minor details, do you remember when this phrase marked you, and made you realize that the doppelgänger motif in a certain book was echoed in several other books..."
I remember where I read that phrase, Théo—in one of the Kate Briggs's books I read last autumn—but I don't remember quite when I started noticing the connections between the books I read. Probably soon after I began writing about reading here on Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ back in 2011:-)

Thanks for a great comment, Emily. Yes yes yes, the author's restraint! I marveled at it too but it's part of the reason why the book is so good. The fly-on-the-wall narration of the first part doesn't allow for any commentary from anyone, neither the author, the narrator nor main character, and that's what gives it its power. It's like one of those news videos without commentary that some news channels broadcast from trouble spots in the world. More eloquent because it's silent.
And doesn't the fact that the main character in the second half is not a great communicator face-to-face with other people allow the author to avoid the rants about injustice that she might otherwise engage in. Such a clever choice by Shibli. It means the second half, even though it's a first person narrative, also has some of the impact of one of those news videos without commentary. We have to do our own commentary.

‘Heat that clouds judgment� is so accurate, especially these last few days that the thermometer has climbed to unusually high temperatures in this corner of the world. Let’s hope that this detail won’t turn out to be a major one in the war play of the book and of the current reality�


I'm very glad to have been motivated to re-read Camus by Shibli's very powerful book, Ilse. And I can see her slim novel remaining as lastingly relevant as ³¢'ɳٰù²¹²Ô²µ±ð°ù, perhaps even becoming a text on school curriculums. Because, yes, even though there is violence at the centre of this work, it is not sensationalized in any way. Shibli underlines its contemptability by not giving all the details, just a few telling ones. I feel you would be able to read it and that your response to it would make for an interesting piece of writing.

Indeed, Violeta, especially as everything hotted up considerably in the Mediterranean area after I posted this review on Sunday. But today, listening to some commentary, I wondered if the events of the last forty-eight hours might not be a turning point...

You know me, David, I love the minor details!

I wonder what it was that struck you this time, Tony. I'm thinking it may have been the minor detail of the incessant barking of a dog...

I read the title to be more as an ironic comment on the deaths of women in question (i.e., these would be treated as minor details).

But this particular case was recorded soon after it happened, and the perpetrators were brought to justice at that time, surprising as it may seem.
And the narrator underlines that it was the minor detail of the date of the happening being exactly 25 years before her own birth that inspired her to try to find out more about it all even though sixty plus years had passed.


Great insight, Radiantflux. That's it exactly.

I read Camus' book but seem to only recall the start. Mother dead. Gun in hand. It's often the case with me (who knows, maybe with others). I remember a small nugget of a book and lose the rest of it unless I go spelunking with a reread.

I had often thought I should re-read Camus but never could summon up the motivation necessary. But after reading Shibli, it was indeed my book-detective side that sent me 'spelunking' back to the most famous of his books.
I found a few other of his books while looking for ³¢'ɳٰù²¹²Ô²µ±ð°ù and I'm hoping to read them before I lose this precious Camus-focused motivation. But of course in the meantime I've started another book which has set me off in a different spelunking direction...

Should men ever be given guns?
As in so many of your reviews, my mind is sent everywhere, always, all at once. I am reminded that I recently read that measures of violence, especially domestic violence, are increasing as ambient temperatures have gone up in our climate catastrophic world. In countries that have tracked this, the measured increase is roughly 5% more violence for every 1 degree C of increased heat.
Perhaps the guns should be allowed only in the hands of the "vulnerable girls". For their protection. Doesn't that make the most sense?
Such an interesting thread of comments. I love the idea of books holding hands. My library will never be the same.

I had often thought I should re-read Camus but never could summon up the motivation nec..."
Some of his essays are a very good read. I enjoyed them as an undergraduate.

As in so many of your reviews, my mind is sent everywhere, always, all at once. I am reminded that I recently read that measures of violence, especially domestic violence, are increasing as ambient temperatures have gone up in our climate catastrophic world. In countries that have tracked this, the measured increase is roughly 5% more violence for every 1 degree C of increased heat.
Perhaps the guns should be allowed only in the hands of the "vulnerable girls". For their protection. Doesn't that make the most sense?...."
That's a frightening statistic, dianne, but one I can easily believe in—and it fits perfectly with the themes of the two books: the searing heat and light of a burning sun affecting the judgement of the people concerned. Should the girls have guns? Trouble is, their partners/family members/anyone really, can easily take a gun from a girl so outlawing the guns is the first solution. And teaching all girls martial arts from a young age is the second. The third might be teaching boys from a young age that they have no right to misuse their superior strength...

They were on my undergraduate reading list too, Nick, but I was a lazy student and mostly ignored the reading list. ³¢'ɳٰù²¹²Ô²µ±ð°ù was an exam text so I had to read that;-)


This is the kind of book that stays with you long after you've read the final pages, Debbie—and so is the Camus. Both are books that cast a long shadow...