{"id":37539,"date":"2025-07-04T10:09:35","date_gmt":"2025-07-04T08:09:35","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/themarkaz.org\/oldsite\/?p=37539"},"modified":"2025-07-07T10:16:11","modified_gmt":"2025-07-07T08:16:11","slug":"arab-writing-in-french-claiming-space-and-language","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/themarkaz.org\/oldsite\/arab-writing-in-french-claiming-space-and-language\/","title":{"rendered":"Arab Writing in French: Claiming Space and Language"},"content":{"rendered":"
For many years, in certain quarters (and certain mouths), \u201cfrancophone\u201d \u2013 when referring to literature written in French \u2013 has been a dirty word. For writers of Arab origin in particular, the term has long been fraught, demarcating French writers (legitimacy implied) from Others.<\/span><\/h5>\n

 <\/p>\n

Lara Vergnaud<\/span><\/h4>\n

 <\/p>\n

In France, in certain quarters (and certain mouths), \u201cfrancophone\u201d \u2013 when referring to literature written in French \u2013 has long been a dirty word. Stripped down, it simply means French-speaking or -writing. On second thought, remove the \u201csimply.\u201d For writers of Arab origin in particular, the term is often fraught, demarcating between French writers (legitimacy implied) and Others. The tension is not purely semantic. The \u201cfrancophone\u201d label often equals relegation to the \u201cFrancophonie\u201d section of French bookstores, well behind the front and center tables and shelves of contemporary \u201cFrench literature.\u201d In the process, it shapes the marketing and reception of \u201cfrancophone\u201d books while arguably shoe holing their authors into writing a certain way \u2014\u00a0namely about identity.<\/span><\/p>\n

Though the term has been and continues to be fiercely rejected by many writers of Arab origin in France, others embrace it; others still claim to be (or at least act) largely indifferent. In my career as a literary translator, I\u2019ve worked with many Arab authors living in France. Several have told me they loathe the label (any label, really), while one North African writer told me, <\/span>Et alors? \u2014\u00a0<\/span><\/i>and so what? \u2014 before adding something to the effect that it\u2019s a writer\u2019s job to write, so why bother preoccupying oneself with denominations and categories.<\/span><\/p>\n

It\u2019s not surprising to find a range of emotions to the term \u201cfrancophone.\u201d From pragmatism to ambivalence, or resentment, France is a nation still grappling (often clumsily) with a legacy of colonialism that went well beyond land appropriation, i.e., cultural, ideological, economic, <\/span>and<\/span><\/i> linguistic colonization. The very use of French, as a writing language, has historically been a problematic exercise for many Arab writers, particularly those hailing from France\u2019s former territories in North Africa, who often view or viewed French as inextricably entangled with its colonial associations. The best example is likely the Algerian writer Kateb Yacine (1929-1989), who famously described fran\u00e7ais as \u201ca spoil of war,\u201d maintaining: \u201cI write in French to tell the French that I am not French.\u201d (Less well known, perhaps, is his mid-life decision to abandon writing in French and dedicate himself to plays written in dialectical Arabic.)<\/span><\/p>\n

It\u2019s not that time heals all wounds (if anything, the colonial wound is stubbornly raw) but that, like any nation, France goes through phases<\/span> \u2014 politically, culturally, linguistically, often all at the same time. Today, French is no longer the \u201cspoil of war\u201d it once was, or not just, but a tool of expression, a reality and a necessity for Arab authors, many of whom live in France, Algeria, Tunisia, Morocco, or Lebanon.<\/span><\/p>\n

In the Arab world, notably the Maghreb, writers\u2019 decision to write in French can be contentious in a different way. In a conversation with Elisabeth Daldoul, founder of the Tunisia-based <\/span>\u00c9ditions Elyzad<\/span><\/a>, she told me that the choice is often \u201cmore complex in the Maghreb [where] it raises questions of identity and politics.\u201d (In other words, <\/span>why aren\u2019t you writing in Arabic\u2026?<\/span><\/i>) As for those in France, Daldoul continued, <\/span>\u201c<\/span>the francophone label positions them on the margins.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Fortunately, French publishing is diversifying. The corpus of work by authors of Arab origin has grown considerably from the wave of \u201cbeur literature\u201d in the 1980s and 1990s. (Think book covers featuring youths against a backdrop of graffitied walls or in vacant lots). Bookshelves have expanded as well, and many French bookshops boast large international sections, typically categorized by country or language of origin (e.g., Russian \/ German \/ Japanese \/ American literature), as well as, still, a Francophonie section. But while France may appear to have accepted, however grudgingly, the decline of French as the global lingua franca, ceding largely to English, Arabic is still often met with distrust, in conversation and on the page. Case in point: as noted by <\/span>Algerian novelist Waciny Laredj (1954-), in an essay summarized <\/span>in Aljadid<\/span><\/a> by <\/span>editor and professor <\/span>Elie Chalala<\/span><\/a>, the label <\/span>applied to Arab writers <\/span>\u201c<\/span>intentionally avoids any reference to \u2018Arabic.\u2019\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Further complicating the fairytale of a France increasingly inclusive of Arab writers is the fact that while the laureate of last year\u2019s prestigious Prix Goncourt (the French equivalent of the Booker Prize) was Kamel Daoud \u2014 the first Algerian recipient in Goncourt history \u2014 the author has garnered his fair share of controversy due to (though <\/span>not only<\/span><\/a>) views that at times hew with a narrative espoused by France\u2019s Far Right.<\/span><\/p>\n

But while Arab writers in France may still find themselves marginalized, as Daldoul rightly noted, it is not without resistance. <\/span>Abdellah Ta\u00efa<\/span><\/a> (1973-), for example, a renowned gay Moroccan writer long-settled in France, has actively challenged Arab stereotypes in his prose for over two decades. Speaking about his chosen language of expression in <\/span>an interview<\/span><\/a> with Electra Magazine, he noted: \u201c<\/span>French was just a means to achieve a goal. For me, French, however sublime it may be, is nothing more than a means to an end.\u201d <\/span>Fouad Laroui (1958-), <\/span>another successful Moroccan writer, relies on \u201cradical bilingualism,\u201d to <\/span>quote scholar Trudy Agar<\/span><\/a>, interweaving Arabic and French in his texts as a strategy of subversion.<\/span><\/p>\n

Indeed, it\u2019s rare to find a contemporary France-based Arab writer who attributes their use of French purely to its linguistic or esthetic values. Leila Slimani may come the closest. Slimani, who is arguably France\u2019s most successful contemporary Franco-Arab writer, has spoken about the <\/span>push-pull<\/span><\/a> of being both French and Moroccan, and the shame she feels at not writing in Arabic, while also celebrating the French language and literature.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

It\u2019s important to note that Ta\u00efa, Laroui, and Slimani are fluent in both French and Arabic (dialectic and\/or standard). Which is not necessarily the case for younger Arab writers coming up in their tracks, many of whom were born and raised in France, with varying degrees of exposure to Arabic, or who moved to France at a young age or for higher education. For these early- or mid-career writers, the use of French appears less loaded. (The key word is <\/span>appears; <\/span><\/i>to assume the motivations in a writer\u2019s mind is most certainly a dangerous endeavor). Still, French is typically considered the default, critical to success and mobility and inclusion. But even though the Arabic language may be increasingly distant, a remnant of a childhood in a Arabophobe country or, farther still, of their parents\u2019 or grandparents\u2019 lives, many of these authors proclaim and celebrate that linguistic heritage, in varying volume, in their writing.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
\"\"
(From top left) Karim Kattan, Kaoutar Harchi, Jadd Hilal, Yamen Manai, Leila Slimani, Abdellah Ta\u00efa.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\n

In two recent novels \u2014\u00a0<\/span>Comment sortir du monde<\/span><\/i> (Les Nouvelles \u00c9ditions du R\u00e9veil, 2023, How to Leave This World) by Marouane Bakhti, and <\/span>La petite derni\u00e8re <\/span><\/i>(Les \u00c9ditions Noir sur Blanc, 2020, The Last One) by Fatima Daas \u2014 the narrator\u2019s inability to speak Arabic fluently is a central point. Bakhti (1997-), born in France to a Moroccan father and a French mother, writes: \u201cI garble a few phrases, cheeks red. They continue in Arabic. Everything becomes opaque. I can\u2019t tell if they\u2019re still talking about me.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Daas (1995-), who was born in France to Algerian parents, depicts similar struggles with her mother tongue (in the literal sense): \u201cSometimes, when I speak Algerian, people barely understand me or not at all, so they ask my mother, \u2018What did she say? What did she mean by that?\u2019 I don\u2019t want my mother to play the intermediary between me and my family.\u201d*<\/span><\/p>\n

And yet despite, or rather, because of this linguistic limitation, both writers make a point of including Arabic, reflecting the multilingual reality of life in France, however much the Acad\u00e9mie Fran\u00e7aise \u2014 stalwart defender of the French tongue \u2014 begs to differ. Form matters here. Daas is prone to including glosses, but footnotes and glossaries are strikingly absent from both works. In <\/span>How to Leave the World, <\/span><\/i>Bakhti often leaves the Arabic as is:<\/span><\/p>\n

Shukran <\/span><\/i>or <\/span>smahli <\/span><\/i>for all the stories you told and that will be passed down to me somehow, in French, later.<\/span><\/p>\n

In these instants, the writer appears to be telling us, the reader, without apology or explanation: I speak <\/span>this<\/span><\/i> language but also, sometimes, I speak <\/span>that<\/span><\/i> language.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

This linguistic interweaving is also present in writing by Franco-Algerian author Brahim Metiba (1977-), notably <\/span>Tu reviendras <\/span><\/i>(Elyzad, 2019, You\u2019ll Be Back), a moving autofictional account about a gay man who returns to Algeria after a ten-year absence to bid farewell to his dying father. At times, not only does Metiba use an Arabic word, he writes it in Arabic characters.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Surely, it\u2019s not coincidental that these writers so attentive to language are also queer authors, and as such, are pushing back from multiple margins, and, default or otherwise, have chosen to do so in French.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Other contemporary writers of Arab origin in France, whose novels are less autobiographical, appear to be more preoccupied with style and theme than linguistic tensions (again, key word \u2013 <\/span>appear<\/span><\/i>) while often, but not always, centering Arab protagonists and\/or settings. For example, Zineb Mekouar (1991-), a Moroccan writer based in France, penned her first novel, <\/span>La Poule et son cumin <\/span><\/i>(JC Latt\u00e8s, 2022, The Hen and its Cumin), about a Moroccan student\u2019s struggle to find her place in France <\/span>and<\/span><\/i> at home. Her second, <\/span>Souviens-toi les abeilles <\/span><\/i>(Gallimard, 2024, Remember the Bees)<\/span>, <\/span><\/i>which is set in Inzerki, Morocco, home to the world\u2019s largest collective apiary, explores themes of ecology, maternal love, and resilience. Her prose is plain but engrossing, gracefully transporting the reader:<\/span><\/p>\n

Before the grandfather, there is sky and earth, that rich-red earth. With the back of his hand, a reflex, he wipes a few drops of sweat off his forehead. The heat began early this year and will linger, today as yesterday, long after sunset. He breathes in and out slowly, as if to match the rhythm of his surroundings. Around him, mountains and shrubs of thyme and thuja, a scattering of argan, carob, and olive trees.<\/span><\/p>\n

It pains me to write that Amina Damerdji (1987-) is another writer to watch, but if you\u2019ll forgive the clich\u00e9, she is\u2026 Damerdji, who is Franco-Algerian, set her first novel <\/span>Laissez-moi vous rejoindre<\/span><\/i>\u00a0(Gallimard, 2021, Let Me Join You) <\/span>in Cuba during that country\u2019s revolution, and her second, <\/span>Bient\u00f4t les vivants <\/span><\/i>(Gallimard, 2024, Soon the Living), in Algeria during the Black Decade. Damerdji told me that while French is her maternal language, her written expression is a bit different. \u201cIt\u2019s French but a French endlessly intermingled with Arab words, a French that incorporates the musicality and affectivity of Arabic.\u201d The result is characters that speak an invitingly permeable French, \u201cthe language of my childhood,\u201d adds Damerdji, \u201cwhich I\u2019d never read in a novel before.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Of course (and thankfully!), Arab writing in France isn\u2019t limited to authors of North African origin. Moroccan and Algerian writing is heavily represented, and Tunisian writing less so (two especially interesting Tunisian novelists are Hella Feki (1982-) and Yamen Manai (1980-), both of whom have written about the Arab Spring; Feki, the early, heady days of revolution, and Manai, its <\/span>stark aftermath<\/span><\/a>). But one also finds French-language works by writers with origins farther afield, for example, in Lebanon, Syria, Egypt, and Palestine, among them Karim Kattan, originally from Bethlehem but who lives and writes primarily in Paris, and Sabyl Ghoussoub, another Parisian whose family emigrated from Lebanon in the \u201880s.<\/span><\/p>\n

Speaking to the Palestinian experience in particular, Jadd Hilal (1987-), a French-Palestinian-Lebanese novelist, told me, \u201cAs a Palestinian, writing has always had a double function for me. On one hand, it\u2019s a tool of memory. Telling the stories of those who can\u2019t do so themselves is a way of ensuring their survival, of passing down their experiences.\u201d His novel <\/span>Les ailes au loin<\/span><\/i> (Elyzad, 2018, Birds of Passage), does just that by telling one family\u2019s story from 1930, through the Nakba, then exile and war in Lebanon, to present-day. As for his relationship to the French language (spoiler: no ambivalence), Hilal said, \u201cWriting in French doesn\u2019t feel like exile for me. I\u2019ve been using this language since a very young age, and so, there\u2019s no feeling of betrayal for me [\u2026] I think I\u2019m more bothered by the way others view me. When people are surprised, for example, that I write so well. Or when I\u2019m proudly given the label of \u2018francophone\u2019 writer, which also implies that I\u2019m not a \u2018French\u2019 writer or quite simply (which would be best incidentally), a writer.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Franco-Algerian Author Kaoutar Harchi writes explicitly about this tension, namely because, in addition to being a writer, she is also a sociologist. In 2016, she published a study of five Algerian writers writing in French, whose title borrows a Derrida quote: <\/span>Je n\u2019ai qu\u2019une langue et ce n\u2019est pas la mienne<\/span><\/i> (\u00c9ditions Fayard, I Have Only One Language and It is Not Mine). In the work, she levies strong criticism at a French literary establishment that she accuses of treating Arab writers differently \u2014 all while denying said treatment. In an <\/span>interview<\/span><\/a> with L\u2019Humanit\u00e9, she qualified the French language as \u201cboth a place of oppression and a tool of emancipation.\u201d<\/span> Harchi herself writes in French, presumably for that very reason. As for the label of \u201cfrancophone,\u201d she noted, in the same interview, that the label reflects \u201ca racialized representation of literary writing.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Her observations are still relevant, clearly. But while the categorization of writers in France can feel etched in permanent ink, there are signs of a loosening, from the writing side at least. By which I mean, Arab writers are carving out space, some by simply ignoring the labels given them (for example, the pragmatic writer mentioned in the beginning of this piece, who has published several well-received novels), others by nimbly subverting them.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Take Fatima Daas\u2019 <\/span>The Last One <\/span><\/i>\u2014 a autofictional novel featuring a lesbian Muslim protagonist that incorporates rap lyrics and Quranic surahs? As of today, it has sold over 35,000 copies, been translated into ten languages, and most recently, its film adaptation won a major prize at the Cannes Film Festival. Such success would have been difficult to imagine twenty years ago.<\/span><\/p>\n

And Damerdji, who had her own strategy, albeit unconsciously, she tells me, of eclipsing categorization.<\/span> In writing a first novel set so far from her home country (thousands of miles in fact), she found a way to affirm herself not as an Algerian writer, but \u2014 and how lovely \u2014 simply as a writer of fiction: \u201cI think that it would be incredibly tragic to only be able to write about what you\u2019ve lived through.\u201d<\/span>\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\n

Hilal too, who has emerged as an eloquent and much-needed Palestinian voice in French media, actively resists the labels affixed to him. His second novel <\/span>Une baignoire dans le d\u00e9sert<\/span><\/i> (Elyzad, 2020, <\/span>A Bathtub in the Desert<\/span><\/a>), is a fantastical take on the classic bildungsroman; his most recent, <\/span>Le caprice de vivre <\/span><\/i>(Elyzad, 2023, The Whims of Life), a steamy novel set in Paris, tackles sex, love, and identity politics.<\/span><\/p>\n

As mentioned, it\u2019s dangerous to attribute intentions or motivations to a single writer, let alone an entire group or generational cohort. Besides, what is especially appealing about these contemporary Arab prose writers is the impressive variety in their style and form. Yes, they are preoccupied with language \u2014 actively challenging French or merely taking advantage of it \u2014 but also with gender roles and sexuality and animal rights and climate change and the rise of authoritarianism, to mention but a few themes.<\/span><\/p>\n

And so their literary production is not limited to stories of growing up in the banlieues, of the immigrant\u2019s lonely journey, of longing for a more or less unfamiliar homeland \u2014 though there are plenty of those. They also write stories of love (notably, queer love) and loss, of war and peace. Some are comical, others tragic; some are wildly ambitious, some fall flat; some reveal enormous promise, others meet such promise. The point is their multiplicity.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The quote that inspired Kaoutar Harchi\u2019s 2016 book was \u201cI have only one language and it is not mine.\u201d Nearly a decade later, perhaps we could dare to be optimistic. Perhaps we could reformulate the phrase. <\/span>I have many languages \u2014 they are all mine<\/span><\/i>.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/em>* Disclaimer! I translated both these works into English, for publication by, respectively, Divided Publishing and Other Press.<\/span>
\n**All translations are the author’s own.<\/em><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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