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Tomboy
How do you live in Algeria when you grow up speaking French, with a French mother? How do you live in France when you’ve spent your childhood in Algeria with an Algerian father? Tomboy is the story of a girl whose father calls her Brio, whose alter ego is Amine, and whose mother is a blue-eyed blond. But who is she? Born five years after Algerian independence in 1967, she navigates the cultural, emotional, and linguistic boundaries of identity living in a world that doesn’t seem to recognize her.
In this semiautobiographical novel, the young French Algerian author Nina Bouraoui introduces us to a girl who feels that Algeria is the country of men. Her childhood years spent in Algeria lead her to explore the borderland between genders as she tries to find her balance between nations, races, and identities. With prose modeling the rhythm of the seasons and the sea, Tomboy enters the innermost reality of a life lived on the edge of several cultures.
In this semiautobiographical novel, the young French Algerian author Nina Bouraoui introduces us to a girl who feels that Algeria is the country of men. Her childhood years spent in Algeria lead her to explore the borderland between genders as she tries to find her balance between nations, races, and identities. With prose modeling the rhythm of the seasons and the sea, Tomboy enters the innermost reality of a life lived on the edge of several cultures.
130 pages, Paperback
First published September 1, 2000
38 people are currently reading
1,074 people want to read
About the author
Nina Bouraoui
30books187followersNina Bouraoui (born on 31 July 1967) is a French writer born in Rennes, Ille-et-Vilaine, of an Algerian father and a French mother. She spent the first fourteen years of her life in Algiers, then Zürich and Abu Dhabi. She now lives in Paris.
Her novels are mostly written in the first person and, with the exception of Avant les hommes (Before the Men), have been said by the author to be works of "auto-fiction". This is even the case for Le Bal des Murènes (The ball of moray eels), which, like Avant les hommes, has a male narrator. Since writing her first novel in 1991, Bouraoui has affirmed the influence of Marguerite Duras in her work, although the life narratives and works many other artists are also to be found in her novels (and songs). This is particularly true of Mes Mauvaises Pensées (My Bad Thoughts) which bears the imprint of Hervé Guibert, Annie Ernaux, David Lynch, Eileen Gray, and Violette Leduc amongst others. Questions of identity, desire, memory, writing, childhood and celebrity culture are some of the major themes of her work.
Her novels are mostly written in the first person and, with the exception of Avant les hommes (Before the Men), have been said by the author to be works of "auto-fiction". This is even the case for Le Bal des Murènes (The ball of moray eels), which, like Avant les hommes, has a male narrator. Since writing her first novel in 1991, Bouraoui has affirmed the influence of Marguerite Duras in her work, although the life narratives and works many other artists are also to be found in her novels (and songs). This is particularly true of Mes Mauvaises Pensées (My Bad Thoughts) which bears the imprint of Hervé Guibert, Annie Ernaux, David Lynch, Eileen Gray, and Violette Leduc amongst others. Questions of identity, desire, memory, writing, childhood and celebrity culture are some of the major themes of her work.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 82 reviews
June 26, 2017
Writers are dangerous people. They are obsessed with truth, their own truth. Writers are childish; they report, they tattle, they cannot keep anything to themselves. One should not socialize with them. They force you to lie, to dissimulate, and defend yourself later.I'd rather read an open heart surgery than a dance, a tower, or a painting. All art lies, but your pain does not, so the first might as well hurt in the effort of healing. There's Harding, and Wolf, and Vera, and so many others who take to the task of the short and swift and brutal that would be more suited to molding a scalpel than writing a novella. And yet, here we are. Duras' thrown around a bunch when it comes to this author, and I will too, for the sake of the tag line popularity contest I still find myself instinctively leaning towards if nothing else. This is the post of that one's colonialism, mind you. Less , more , and a whole lot more rage against the racialized gender and the gendered race than the two of those combined.
The idea of death will come from these people, whom i run into in France, these unknown people who violate my life. These French people speaking to the little Algerian girl will want to educate themselves; they will want to know. The idea of death will come from their questions, repeated endlessly.Some killers laugh. Others cry freedom of speech. A few just keep on killing, and so as long as that's going on, the first two don't occur in a vacuum. You could get things other than decolonization via an individual's existence out of this, especially in terms of the prose, but when the shape of the narrative is pointedly in the form of a scalpel, the effort expended clinging to the slippery haft of the handle isn't worth the passage of 116 pages. The problem's a simple matter of a myriad species classifying itself via human experimentation and torture, but when such classifications overlap in more ways during the last half of the 20th century than the standard library catalog can keep up with, only a work of experimental literature beyond the pale of the established canon can hope to keep pace. You can keep your academic theory, but if you ignore history and put up your nose at transitions from word to flesh to word that are utter proof of how far language has to go, you'll be lost, lost, lost.
Strong hands, workers' flesh. Men first and later their wives, brought back like packages by mail, by these overcrowded boats. Such a dehumanizing experience. This shame, accepted and recognized reluctantly. This French shame. No, my father is an economist: all the better. He travels a lot: whew! He is an educated Algerian: bravo! A high-ranking government worker: even better!The name of the game on my side of the ocean and across my area of the borderlands is different, but the results are of similar caliber. This story isn't mine, though. My existence also connotes a story of bloodshed, but less the civil war of colonial vacuum, more the genocide of ongoing settler state. I could tour France and chafe at my ill ease with languages outside the single ken, I really could, but I always look the part enough to never be put on display. Maybe in the realm of gender performance I'd draw some stares, but race? Put me in six inch heels, and I'll play the Aryan role with a minimal amount of self-defense.
My ability to adjust is maddening, creating several parallel lives and a multitude of small betrayals.This wasn't enough of a surprise to merit my first favorite of the year, but it came very, very, very close. It's always nice when that happens.
France is a kind of violence.
May 24, 2024
”Varje morgon kontrollerar jag min identitet. Jag har fyra problem. Fransyska? Algeriska? Flicka? Pojke?�
Nina Bouraoui är det känsliga jaget i den här lyriska texten från 2004 på endast 142 sidor. Hon är "blandbarnet" med algeriskt utseende och brytning från far, samt fransktalande som sin blonda mor. Hon har två pass men bara ett synligt ansikte. Hon är obestämd, sliten itu mellan två folk som hatar varandra. I Algeriet - där hon bor - är hon en av kolonialisterna. I Frankrike - där hon spenderar loven - är hon arab. Hennes nätter är algeriska, dagarna är franska. Identiteten är dubbel och sönderslagen.
"Jag kommer alltid vara en flicka utan sällskap. Vid femton års ålder. Vid tjugo. Vid trettiotvå. Alltid. Jag kommer alltid att känna den här ensamhetssvindeln. Den här upphetsningen också över att vara ensam med sin kropp, sin röst. Över att var sig själv nog."
Mycket allvarlig och helt humorbefriad är den diktade bikten om mellanförskapets villkor och hur det påverkar identiteten. Bouraouis hackiga och upprepande prosa är så kärnfull att det nästan blir lite tröttsamt.
”Algeriet finns inte i mitt språk. Det finns i min kropp. Algeriet finns inte i mina ord. Det finns inuti mig. Algeriet finns inte i det som kommer ut. Det finns i det som förtär.�
Hon jagar bort sin identitet som kvinna, den blir för mycket för henne. Algeriet är mannens land, gatan är mannens. Parken tillhör mannen som ville röva bort henne en gång. Men vilket land är kvinnornas? Inte Frankrike. Den franska stamtavlan håller henne med ett struptag. I Frankrike saknar hon sin bästa vän, pojken Amine. (Om han nu inte är hennes eget fantasi-jag.)
"Bara Amine vet om mina lekar, min efterapning. Bara Amine vet om mina hemliga begär, min barndoms monster. Jag tar ett annat förnamn, Ahmed. Jag kastar mina klänningar. Jag klipper håret. Jag gör så att jag försvinner. Jag införlivar männens land. Jag är skamlös. Jag möter deras blick. Jag stjäl deras sätt att vara. Jag lär mig fort. Jag spräcker min röst."
Hon blir så bra på att adaptera sig till den omväxlande miljön att man säkert skulle kunna diagnostisera henne med omvänd anpassningsstörning. Hon gör det för mycket och det går för lätt. Hon känner knappt ens saknad utan sviker bara den ena familjen för den andra. Anpassningsförmågan är ett fulländat förnekande, som en galenskap.
”Bara skrivandet ska komma att skydda från omvärlden.�
Hon skriver ändå bra, jag blir berörd. Men det är väldigt jagfixerat. Och jag saknar humorn som exempelvis Riad Sattouf besitter när han berättar sin historia i Framtiden arab, vars erfarenheter faktiskt liknar Bouraouis på flera sätt. Trots att jag har läst många berättelser på temat tycker jag Pojkflickan tillför något jag inte vill vara utan. Jag lär mig saker.
”Jag ska säga henne att i Algeriet tycker man inte om hundar. Att man kastar sten på dem och dödar dem. Till minne av kriget. Den franska armén använde sig av hundar mot muslimerna. Sedan dess är algerierna hemskt hundrädda. Det är förödmjukande att slukas av ett djur. Det glömmer man inte."
Nina Bouraoui är det känsliga jaget i den här lyriska texten från 2004 på endast 142 sidor. Hon är "blandbarnet" med algeriskt utseende och brytning från far, samt fransktalande som sin blonda mor. Hon har två pass men bara ett synligt ansikte. Hon är obestämd, sliten itu mellan två folk som hatar varandra. I Algeriet - där hon bor - är hon en av kolonialisterna. I Frankrike - där hon spenderar loven - är hon arab. Hennes nätter är algeriska, dagarna är franska. Identiteten är dubbel och sönderslagen.
"Jag kommer alltid vara en flicka utan sällskap. Vid femton års ålder. Vid tjugo. Vid trettiotvå. Alltid. Jag kommer alltid att känna den här ensamhetssvindeln. Den här upphetsningen också över att vara ensam med sin kropp, sin röst. Över att var sig själv nog."
Mycket allvarlig och helt humorbefriad är den diktade bikten om mellanförskapets villkor och hur det påverkar identiteten. Bouraouis hackiga och upprepande prosa är så kärnfull att det nästan blir lite tröttsamt.
”Algeriet finns inte i mitt språk. Det finns i min kropp. Algeriet finns inte i mina ord. Det finns inuti mig. Algeriet finns inte i det som kommer ut. Det finns i det som förtär.�
Hon jagar bort sin identitet som kvinna, den blir för mycket för henne. Algeriet är mannens land, gatan är mannens. Parken tillhör mannen som ville röva bort henne en gång. Men vilket land är kvinnornas? Inte Frankrike. Den franska stamtavlan håller henne med ett struptag. I Frankrike saknar hon sin bästa vän, pojken Amine. (Om han nu inte är hennes eget fantasi-jag.)
"Bara Amine vet om mina lekar, min efterapning. Bara Amine vet om mina hemliga begär, min barndoms monster. Jag tar ett annat förnamn, Ahmed. Jag kastar mina klänningar. Jag klipper håret. Jag gör så att jag försvinner. Jag införlivar männens land. Jag är skamlös. Jag möter deras blick. Jag stjäl deras sätt att vara. Jag lär mig fort. Jag spräcker min röst."
Hon blir så bra på att adaptera sig till den omväxlande miljön att man säkert skulle kunna diagnostisera henne med omvänd anpassningsstörning. Hon gör det för mycket och det går för lätt. Hon känner knappt ens saknad utan sviker bara den ena familjen för den andra. Anpassningsförmågan är ett fulländat förnekande, som en galenskap.
”Bara skrivandet ska komma att skydda från omvärlden.�
Hon skriver ändå bra, jag blir berörd. Men det är väldigt jagfixerat. Och jag saknar humorn som exempelvis Riad Sattouf besitter när han berättar sin historia i Framtiden arab, vars erfarenheter faktiskt liknar Bouraouis på flera sätt. Trots att jag har läst många berättelser på temat tycker jag Pojkflickan tillför något jag inte vill vara utan. Jag lär mig saker.
”Jag ska säga henne att i Algeriet tycker man inte om hundar. Att man kastar sten på dem och dödar dem. Till minne av kriget. Den franska armén använde sig av hundar mot muslimerna. Sedan dess är algerierna hemskt hundrädda. Det är förödmjukande att slukas av ett djur. Det glömmer man inte."
November 3, 2013
I've always felt illegal at passport checkpoints. Without correct papers. Always expect to be ejected from the line of passengers, surrounded and seized by two police officers, then taken to a small room. Who are you? Where are you from? Where are you going?
Apparently largely autobiographical, Tomboy is the story of Yasmina/Nina/Jasmine, born to an Algerian father and a French mother only a few years after the very bloody liberation war, growing up in Algiers with a boy for a best friend, which works fine as long as they're children. But then she reaches puberty and gradually becomes aware of what she is by what she is not; female, mixed-race, tomboyish, gay, too foreign in both of her home countries, she faces a low-key but constant barrage of everything from open racist hostility to well-meaning can-I-pet-the-dog curiosity from all those who recognise her as Something Different, while the climate hardens in both Algeria and France. Yada yada yada, important, yeah, but we've heard that before. What makes it fresh is the way she tells it, both in the detail, all the tiny little impressions that make up everyday life, and in that prose, all short sentences bouncing off and contrasting and contradicting and expanding on each other. Reading Bouraoui is like putting together a 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle, where you find yourself admiring both the individual pieces and the finished product, but it's the act of watching it all come together to form a whole that stays with you.
October 29, 2018
5 år sedan senast. Jag är inte densamma. Inte lika starkt intryck som sist, men den är fortfarande en 4a.
September 15, 2017
From the back cover blurb, i was expecting an interesting book about a trans man in Algeria. This wasn't it at all. This was an obviously very depressed person's account of how horrible it is to be biracial and not belonging anywhere, but applied as a generalization for all biracial kids, or at least all french-algerian kids. In an incredibly repetitive flow of consciousness style.
With occasional mention of gender-identity issues.
Honestly, read the first 3 pages, and you'll have read the whole book.
With occasional mention of gender-identity issues.
Honestly, read the first 3 pages, and you'll have read the whole book.
February 22, 2018
Ce qui frappe en premier c'est ce format d'écriture insolite et fragmenté, néanmoins je l'apprécie de plus en plus: je pense que Bouraoui essaye de briser la langue française, l'offenser, la tourmenter, cette langue qu'on lui a imposé. Le symbolisme est omniprésent: Amine c'est l'Algérie, la France c'est Nina la femme, Algers c'est Nina le garçon, l'Italie c'est Nina le corps sexuel... En court: je le recommande aux jeunes ames reveuses/ perdues/ nostalgiques. Ce fut un plaisir supreme de lire Bouraoui. La fragilité de son écriture contient sa solitude, on s'y perd, et on n'en sort pas indemne.
October 30, 2018
Det poetiska språket träffar mig rakt i hjärtat. Det är böljande. Bouraoui öppnar upp en ny värld, och gör en nyfiken på både arabisk historia och litteratur. Som läsare får man verkligen ta del av det förtryck som hon som barn genomlever; att inte tillhöra sitt folk, att inte vara man, att inte vara vuxen.
Vissa delar i boken är inte tillgängliga för läsaren. I övrigt är det en bok med ett lättläst språk, men svår text att ta till sig. Trots att den bara är 140 sidor behöver man flera dagar på sig för att verkligen kunna ta till sig berättelsen.
Vissa delar i boken är inte tillgängliga för läsaren. I övrigt är det en bok med ett lättläst språk, men svår text att ta till sig. Trots att den bara är 140 sidor behöver man flera dagar på sig för att verkligen kunna ta till sig berättelsen.
September 17, 2018
Attirée par la beauté du visage de l'autrice sur la couverture du livre et par le titre, évocateur de l'identité de genre en construction dans l'enfance, j'ai parcouru ces pages couvertes de phrases courtes et brutales, non-verbales et même avec un mot pour évoquer le souffrance de la double-identité d'une jeune fille algéro-française dans les années 70.
Souvenirs de vacances et de tragédies, ami.es et soeurs, femmes de sa vie (malheureusement pas d'amoureuses citées mais ni d'amoureux donc l'espoir persiste), ses parents, Rachid et Maryvonne, qui se sont aimés et mariés dans les années 60 et évocation de l'âge adulte, Nina Bouraoui écrit tout en pudeur noble et comme elle doit se battre et c'est magnifique.
Elle évoque son enfance à s'efforcer à passer pour un garçon afin d'exister dans les rues d'Alger où la patriarcat et son métissage la rende trop "voyante". Elle admire la liberté, l'impunité et la "neutralité" des hommes dans les rues: homme rime avec liberté alors elle veut en être un: plonger du hauts des rochers, se battre, faire le mur et porter des jeans.
Comme les cristaux de sel brillant sur les peaux des baigneurs et baigneuses du Rocher Plat, comme la force d'une enfant qui comprend tout et trop vite, comme l'indicible de la violence de la guerre d'Algérie, Yasmine Bouraoui (dont le nom de famille signifie père du conteur) nous emporte dans un témoignage poétique et sublime de son enfance tortueuse et du racisme et de l'islamophobie décomplexée de cette époque pas si révolue. Littérature puissante de la catharsis et du combat qui nous bouscule car "c'est dangereux, un écrivain. C'est obsédé par la vérité. Par sa vérité."
Souvenirs de vacances et de tragédies, ami.es et soeurs, femmes de sa vie (malheureusement pas d'amoureuses citées mais ni d'amoureux donc l'espoir persiste), ses parents, Rachid et Maryvonne, qui se sont aimés et mariés dans les années 60 et évocation de l'âge adulte, Nina Bouraoui écrit tout en pudeur noble et comme elle doit se battre et c'est magnifique.
Elle évoque son enfance à s'efforcer à passer pour un garçon afin d'exister dans les rues d'Alger où la patriarcat et son métissage la rende trop "voyante". Elle admire la liberté, l'impunité et la "neutralité" des hommes dans les rues: homme rime avec liberté alors elle veut en être un: plonger du hauts des rochers, se battre, faire le mur et porter des jeans.
Comme les cristaux de sel brillant sur les peaux des baigneurs et baigneuses du Rocher Plat, comme la force d'une enfant qui comprend tout et trop vite, comme l'indicible de la violence de la guerre d'Algérie, Yasmine Bouraoui (dont le nom de famille signifie père du conteur) nous emporte dans un témoignage poétique et sublime de son enfance tortueuse et du racisme et de l'islamophobie décomplexée de cette époque pas si révolue. Littérature puissante de la catharsis et du combat qui nous bouscule car "c'est dangereux, un écrivain. C'est obsédé par la vérité. Par sa vérité."
August 18, 2017
This is difficult to rate, since it's not your typical kind of book, but just one long struggle for identity. I found some parts very good and pertinent, but quite a lot of the text felt superfluous and overly repetitive. On the other hand, the repetition serves a purpose and sets a certain mood. Perhaps this book is more interesting if you've read the rest of Bouraoui's books.
November 16, 2022
very interesting novel about the tides and tensions of living and growing up between genders, ethnicities, cultures, a novel that puts a finger directly into a section of your brain you'd rather not have touched and then sexualises the experience. İ learned so much about transmascs
March 13, 2016
Hard to read sometimes and I didn't really like it at first but now at the end I think it is beautiful.
February 12, 2025
This is by far one of the most interesting books I’ve ever read. The timeline is so unique, it starts in the middle, goes back to the beginning, circles around, ends in a letter to the past, and was just generally so cool to experience. I also just eat up stream of consciousness poetry style novels every time, and this one was no exception. It was also so interesting to read an artistic account of the Algerian war of independence, something I only studied in school from an international relations perspective.
Another aspect of this book that I loved was how strongly I could relate to parts of it and how strongly I couldn’t at all. Being biracial is an experience personally foreign to me, but being a child tomboy in any culture is apparently a strikingly similar experience. I said out loud “yes, exactly!� many times as she questioned “am I a girl or a boy?� And when her family made her wear cute little dresses, “just this one time, for appearances.� I feel this is the start of much longer journey to heal my inner tomboy child by way of reading and relating to similar stories. Insert that James Baldwin quote about how you think your experience in life is completely unique until you start reading books. Okay sorry for the public diary entry y’all lol. Many people rated this 3 stars but it is 5 TO ME.
Another aspect of this book that I loved was how strongly I could relate to parts of it and how strongly I couldn’t at all. Being biracial is an experience personally foreign to me, but being a child tomboy in any culture is apparently a strikingly similar experience. I said out loud “yes, exactly!� many times as she questioned “am I a girl or a boy?� And when her family made her wear cute little dresses, “just this one time, for appearances.� I feel this is the start of much longer journey to heal my inner tomboy child by way of reading and relating to similar stories. Insert that James Baldwin quote about how you think your experience in life is completely unique until you start reading books. Okay sorry for the public diary entry y’all lol. Many people rated this 3 stars but it is 5 TO ME.
April 1, 2025
L'arrachement, l'errance, le déracinement, la perte de soi. Ce sont les thèmes qui font briller ce livre et qui restent en tête après avoir l'avoir refermé. On se plonge vraiment dans l'Algérie post-guerre mais toujours en guerre identitaire, j'avais l'impression d'y être. Les figures de style et la vérité crue de l'autrice m'ont beaucoup plu.
Or, les phrases courtes à l'extrême m'ont énoooormement sorti du récit, puisque j'avais l'impression de lire une liste d'épicerie. Le rythme en a donc beaucoup été affecté. Je comprends le style et l'effet voulu, mais à mon avis, ça a gâché l'oeuvre en entier.
J'ai aussi trouvé un peu délicat la façon dont elle parlait de son identité féminine/masculine. Ça aurait pu être mieux traité.
7/10
Or, les phrases courtes à l'extrême m'ont énoooormement sorti du récit, puisque j'avais l'impression de lire une liste d'épicerie. Le rythme en a donc beaucoup été affecté. Je comprends le style et l'effet voulu, mais à mon avis, ça a gâché l'oeuvre en entier.
J'ai aussi trouvé un peu délicat la façon dont elle parlait de son identité féminine/masculine. Ça aurait pu être mieux traité.
7/10
March 9, 2024
She never misses!
January 27, 2022
Hittade denna efter 3 år och läste färdigt. Tacohej
February 3, 2019
Short sentences that crackle, slamming to say the difficulty of knowing either Algerian or French, the desire to decide to be a boy rather than a girl.
Yes, the sentences are short, very short, often a single word. And over the pages they all say the same thing, the weight of these dualities.
This reflects all the suffering accumulated since childhood, not knowing where our place is, not knowing who we are.
Yes, the sentences are short, very short, often a single word. And over the pages they all say the same thing, the weight of these dualities.
This reflects all the suffering accumulated since childhood, not knowing where our place is, not knowing who we are.
August 26, 2021
Okay I haven't read a novel in French since high school, so I definitely am rusty and missed out on some stuff, but the prose was overall pretty easy to follow. I found myself really hypnotized by it--the simple sentences, the mostly simple tense or futur proche. It's repetitive but in a way that builds. It's not a plot-heavy story, so language plays a huge role in carrying the story (and I think it does this very succesfuly)
Thematically I also felt really engaged. The book raises issues of race, gender, sexuality, colonialism, violence. It's about a person born to an Algerian father and a French mother. They feel neither French enough nor Algerian enough.
Long story short, I loved it. It got me thinking a lot about what "home" means.
Thematically I also felt really engaged. The book raises issues of race, gender, sexuality, colonialism, violence. It's about a person born to an Algerian father and a French mother. They feel neither French enough nor Algerian enough.
Long story short, I loved it. It got me thinking a lot about what "home" means.
December 22, 2021
Beautifully written and wonderful autobiographical novel about a young person trapped between 2 genders, 2 cultures (French and Algerian), 2 countries and 2 languages. Explores themes of identity, acceptance and family, othering, racism, belonging, language, love and being a stranger.
Read
March 14, 2025I mean, it was interesting, but it was not necessarily giving what I look for in books I read. More of a meditative, cyclical, somewhat time-divorced memory of childhood and identity than a coherent narrative, it didn't really go anywhere new until the last 10 pages.
May 18, 2024
Je me sens trop arnaquée c pas du tout lesbien genre ou y a des questions intéressantes mais fouyouuuu j’ai pas accroché
May 28, 2024
niet slecht!
June 2, 2024
Heel vlot te lezen en toch zeer nuttig en interessant, go Nina!!
December 4, 2023
very beautiful writing not a clue what happened though
Read
February 27, 2025a hypnotic novel that described the feeling of alienation very well in repeated phrases and short sentences
too personal for the rating
too personal for the rating
October 22, 2022
Read around the world project - Algeria
This very slim book covers the memories of our narrator (AKA the author) as a young girl living in Algeria and France, struggling with her biracial and gender identities. Mixed into our narrator’s internal monologue is commentary on racial and political tensions in both France and Algeria during the 1970s.
While I thought the subject matter was worth reading - be warned - the writing style is very stream-of-conscious and ramble-prone. Those that prefer plot lines in their fiction should stay far, far away. Many phrases are outright repeated multiple times. There’s also no real dialogue - the reader only gets snippets of the world from the memories of a ruminating narrator who feels both lost and depressed.
Another reviewer said reading the first 3 pages is almost like reading the whole book …and I agree�. while only 116 pages this took me four days to get through due to the repetition and lack of structure. I absolutely would have DNFed if not for this reading project.
This very slim book covers the memories of our narrator (AKA the author) as a young girl living in Algeria and France, struggling with her biracial and gender identities. Mixed into our narrator’s internal monologue is commentary on racial and political tensions in both France and Algeria during the 1970s.
While I thought the subject matter was worth reading - be warned - the writing style is very stream-of-conscious and ramble-prone. Those that prefer plot lines in their fiction should stay far, far away. Many phrases are outright repeated multiple times. There’s also no real dialogue - the reader only gets snippets of the world from the memories of a ruminating narrator who feels both lost and depressed.
Another reviewer said reading the first 3 pages is almost like reading the whole book …and I agree�. while only 116 pages this took me four days to get through due to the repetition and lack of structure. I absolutely would have DNFed if not for this reading project.
January 25, 2024
Ce livre m'a émue et intéressée
"(...) Et derrière le cimetière Montparnasse : Hé, Rachel! Hé, Sarah! Hé, salope! Et à la sortie du Bon Marché: Alors ça c'est Cohen Benguigui ou peut-être même Abdulmachinhose. Et mon silence toujours. Et là encore des petites vipères enroulées à mon cou : Toi tu n'es pas comme les autres. Ou : Tu fais pas. Tu pourrais même faire italienne. Et ça : Ah bon ? Tu as une amie qui s'appelle Yasmina, toi Et mon silence toujours. Parce que ma voix n'est rien. Elle s'échappe comme du vent. Bien sûr qu'il ne fallait pas répondre. Je trouverai mieux. Je l'écrirai. C'est mieux ça, la haine de l'autre écrite et révélée dans un livre. J'écris. Et quelqu'un se reconnaîtra. Se trouvera minable. Restera sans voix. Se noiera dans le silence. Terrassé par la douleur".
"(...) Et derrière le cimetière Montparnasse : Hé, Rachel! Hé, Sarah! Hé, salope! Et à la sortie du Bon Marché: Alors ça c'est Cohen Benguigui ou peut-être même Abdulmachinhose. Et mon silence toujours. Et là encore des petites vipères enroulées à mon cou : Toi tu n'es pas comme les autres. Ou : Tu fais pas. Tu pourrais même faire italienne. Et ça : Ah bon ? Tu as une amie qui s'appelle Yasmina, toi Et mon silence toujours. Parce que ma voix n'est rien. Elle s'échappe comme du vent. Bien sûr qu'il ne fallait pas répondre. Je trouverai mieux. Je l'écrirai. C'est mieux ça, la haine de l'autre écrite et révélée dans un livre. J'écris. Et quelqu'un se reconnaîtra. Se trouvera minable. Restera sans voix. Se noiera dans le silence. Terrassé par la douleur".
June 13, 2008
Nina Bouraoui's semiautobiographical novel TOMBOY is just beautiful and reads like a collection of prose poems. In this particular work, Bouraoui's writing reminds me of Marguerite Duras's own semiautobiographical novel THE LOVER. Reading TOMBOY in light of Edward Said's essay "Reflection on Exile" illustrates the idea that "the pathos of exile is in the loss of contact with the solidity and the satisfaction of the earth: homecoming is out of the question," and in Bouraoui's case, as in the case of all transnational writers, writing becomes her home.
I highly recommend this book.
I highly recommend this book.
February 9, 2023
I had to read this book for school and it was very interesting but also very confusing. She writes very short and fast sentences that it takes a bit to follow! like sometimes one or two words!! The story was really interesting though as it centred around strict binaries, girl/boy, mother/father, gay/straight, french/algérien. Nina believes in one or the other, no fluidity to life and that causes a lot of problems she ends up having to face!
February 9, 2009
A little repetitive, clearly a constant internal struggle that she didn't get over the entire book. It gave good insight to what she could have been going through, just a bit extensive. The topic never changed. It was more an internal struggle between her two nationalities then with her feeling like a tomboy. Read it for the cultural aspect if you want, but I don't know I would recommend it.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
July 21, 2015
Did not enjoy this book. It was very repetitive and the story and characters did not keep me interested.
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