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L'amour, la fantasia txt L'amour, la fantasia, text ebook L'amour, la fantasia, adobe reader L'amour, la fantasia, chapter 2 L'amour, la fantasia, L'amour, la fantasia f2bb3c In This Stunning Novel, Assia Djebar Intertwines The History Of Her Native Algeria With Episodes From The Life Of A Young Girl In A Story Stretching From The French Conquest InTo The War Of Liberation Of The S The Girl, Growing Up In The Old Roman Coastal Town Of Cherchel, Sees Her Life In Contrast To That Of A Neighboring French Family, And Yearns For Than Law And Tradition Allow Her To Experience Headstrong And Passionate, She Escapes From The Cloistered Life Of Her Family To Join Her Brother In The Maquis Fight Against French Domination Djebar S Exceptional Descriptive Powers Bring To Life The Experiences Of Girls And Women Caught Up In The Dual Struggle For Independence Both Their Own And Algeria S

About the Author: Assia Djebar

the pen name of Fatma Zohra Imalhayene Assia Djebar was born in Algeria to parents from the Berkani tribe of Dahra She adopted the pen name Assia Djebar when her first novel, La Soif Hunger was published in 1957, in France where she was studying at the Sorbonne In 1958, she travelled to Tunis, where she worked as a reporter alongside Frantz Fanon, travelling to Algerian refugee camp

10 thoughts on “L'amour, la fantasia

  1. says:

    Fantasia is a book in two parts, which alternate before one narrative takes over The first is a retelling of the French conquest of Algeria and the following insurgency in the early 19th century The second is an autobiographical version of the author s life a century later, as she grows as a person and sheds the roles which are forced upon her from both colonizer and colonized Without context, it s easy to assume a novel in French about Algeria or Morocco titled Fantasia would be some uncomfortable fetishism Thankfully there s none of that, at least on the part of the author This is a project about reclaiming history, from the omissions of the archives and her own veiled position Djebar reclaims history and her own thoughts, but also holds a wake for the dead and those else who were silenced.I admire the scale and aims of this project But, I have reservations on Djerba s style It is so much a product of the interaction between French and Algerian Arabic that it might not have survived translation The language is repetitive, and even cliched at points Still, I admire the goals and thoughts of this book enough that I will likely look into Djebar s work further.

  2. says:

    Assia Djebar wants you to write a term paper about her book She wants you to deploy trendy crit theory terminology to unpack her overtly symbolic and extremely self aware meta narrative of historical readings, elided autobiography and tiresome, italicized hinge pieces But she also wants you to learn about Algerian history, about life as an Arab woman and about the torturous process of forging an identity in the liminal space between a conquering and a conquered nation Unfortunately, she has little faith in her readers and frequently interprets her own book to be sure that everyone understands how fractured she is, what the other has done, on how many levels the metaphor of being veiled can operate, or what a compromise it entails that she is writing in French.When Djebar gives voice to the Algerian women who aided the native resistance or when she frames the observations of victorious Frenchmen, she shares memorable and moving stories Her offering of Algeria s history is absorbable and relevant, knit from carefully chosen details that contrast each other quite appropriately for instance, the Frenchman observing the battle at an aesthetic remove, perving out at the spectacle and the Frenchman drily tallying the dead stand in pointed opposition to the women who report how often France burnt down their homes and destroyed the men of their community Some of these retellings are gripping and devastating because when Djebar restrains her anger and allows history to speak for itself, the book sails.I was considerably less interested in her autobiographical chapters, in the precocious observations of the privileged young child who escapes the veil through reading and scholarship Similarly, the portion of the novel that shows a young Djebar being deflowered in Paris amongst great inward drama and traditional lament verges on melodrama and isn t strong enough to stand up to the real tragedies in the book.At one point, Djebar writes, When writing, I have but one concern that I should say enough, or rather that I should express myself clearly enough Rejecting all lyricism, turning my back on high flown language every metaphor seems a wretched ruse, an approximation and a weakness Aside from the fact that those sentences contain numerous metaphors, Djebar is simply lying How can she square that sentiment with, To attempt an autobiography using French words alone is to lend oneself to the vivisector s scalpel, revealing what lies beneath the skin The flesh flakes off and with it, seemingly, the last shreds of the unwritten language of my childhood Or, every language is a dark depository for piled up corpses, refuse, sewage, but faced with the language of the former conqueror, which offers me its ornaments, its jewels, its flowers, I find they are the flowers of death chrysanthemums on tombs When Djebar works to resurrect so many of her vanished sisters, her book is unique and engaging when she pulls back to be her own theorist and when she spotlights tiny moments of her personal development on the world historical scale of her novel, she weakens her project on the whole.

  3. says:

    L Amour, la Fantasia est le genre de livre dans lequel on vit, on voyage, on r ve. Au fond d une Alg rie ancienne, prise, viol e, br l e, Assia Djebar nous raconte des histoire qui peut tre ont chapp aux historiens, les mis res, le courage, la solitude de tout un peuple..

  4. says:

    1830 France invades Algiers 1962 Algeria gains independence 1936 Assia Djebar is born 1984 Fantasia An Algerian Cavalcade is written It s hard to call this a novel It s not I d call it an essay, except at 284 pages that s stretching it Orientalism aside, the quote on the front calling it a mosaic isn t far off Djebar mixes her own autobiography with historical sources from the 19th century and discussions with women who remember the struggle for independence, and what came before and after it.1950s a 13 year old girl joins the fight for liberty after seeing her brother gunned down Captured by the French, she sneers What are you going to do, execute a girl Throw me in jail if you want, you won t be here long enough to keep me in it 20 years later Assia Djebar interviews her, a prematurely aging woman, taking care of her husband s children So it goes.The central and somewhat belaboured metaphor here is the veil the one women are expected to wear past a certain age, sure, but also the other veils The one drawn over the victims of colonialisation by letting the colonialists write history The one drawn by language, by the palimpsest of history Algiers has Roman ruins, Christian saints, Turkish beys The things that are hidden by being made conspicuous, and vice versa The freedom offered by untouchability While the man still has the right to four legitimate wives, we girls, big and little, have at our command four languages to express desire before all that is left for us is sighs and moans French for secret missives Arabic for our stifled aspirations towards God the Father, the God of the religions of the Book Lybico Berber which takes us back to the pagan idols mother gods of pre Islamic Mecca The fourth language, for all females, young or old, cloistered or half emancipated, remains that of the body the body which male neighbours and cousins eyes require to be deaf and blind, since they cannot completely incarcerate itPeople are buried, not just in the ground martyrs, victims, traitors, invaders but in the language as well some openly, with huge monuments, others quietly, so as to pretend they never existed Or at least never needed a monument Djebar writes of Algeria in French, the country that enslaved her people, the language that let her mother treat her father as an equal, the language that isolated her from the women of her own family Exposing myself by writing my autobiograpy in the language of the former enemy puts me at constant risk of burning myself up.It s notable that even The Battle of Algiers puts men at the centre of everything Meanwhile, European politicians want to solve a problem simply by banning a piece of cloth And so layers keep being added, and all a writer can do is point them out.

  5. says:

    Fantasia An Algerian Cavalcade is not a novel, or a memoir or an oral history, though it shares characteristics with all three genres It s a piece of literature that defies easy categorization It is, perhaps, best described as a meditation on history Algeria s in this case , alienation and women based on sources from both the French and native sides of Algeria s recent, tragic history, including the author s own experiences she fought in the last rebellion that ended in Algeria s independence.There are passages that are intensely interesting and even moving the reader gets swept up in Djebar s world but then she drops into an off putting, deconstructionalist voice that threw me entirely out of the book I would have enjoyed it had she not found it necessary to pull back from the immediacy of the narrative to beat me over the head with its meaning Djebar should have had confidence in her audience, or put the metafictional part of her musings in a separate context.I m on the fence still with Assia Djebar I m impressed enough and respectful enough of her writing to be interested in reading further but I m reserving a final opinion.

  6. says:

    My Body, my LandWhy am I reviewing this Do I even understand it No, not entirely, but I understand enough to know that it is a remarkable work, part philosophy, part personal statement, part a history of Algeria under French rule Its very language a paradox an Arab author writing in French, the language of the conquerors but also the language that gives her freedom as a woman from the patriarchal oppression in her own land And reading it in French as I did, I got an extraordinary sense of Djebar s writing, sonorous, richly colored, syntactically free, juggling unfamiliar terms and proper names I attach a sample below not for nothing is she a member of the Acad mie Fran aise Her prose sometimes has the detachment of an historian, sometimes the immediacy of personal confession, sometimes the intoxication of a poet but a normal novel this is not.Look at the cover, a detail of a Delacroix painting, perfectly chosen It is obviously influenced by Delacroix s visit to Algeria, full of colorful orientalism But it also represents a rape, and the underlying theme of Djebar s book is surely the rape of a country and the repression of women Indeed, for her, the failure to fully possess either her country or her own body are one and the same thing The feminism of her writing is personal, political, and historical at one and the same time Alternate chapters of the book tell the story of the French conquest of Algiers in 1830, the repressive and even genocidal campaigns again guerrilla resistance that followed, and the final wars before independence in 1962 But in the personal chapters that come in between, Djebar is as much concerned with male dominance as with colonialism.Her opening scene, Little Arab Girl s First Day at School, contains virtually the entire book in a nutshell A woman walking her daughter to school realizes that the girl will learn to write, and that writing will both expose her to oppression and give her the means to overcome it She remembers once receiving an innocent letter from a boy, and her father tearing it up unread I d like to offer the rest of the chapter in the English version by Dorothy S Blair, translated as Fantasia An Algerian Cavalcade, because it shows Djebar s extraordinary enfolding of the feminist, political, and sexual in almost every paragraph During the months and years that followed, I became absorbed by this business of love, or rather by the prohibition laid on love my father s condemnation only served to encourage the intrigue In these early stages of my sentimental education, our secret correspondence is carried on in French thus the language that my father had been at pains for me to learn, serves as a go between, and from now a double, contradictory sign reigns over my initiation As with the heroine of a Western romance, youthful defiance helped me break out of the circle that whispering elders traced around me and within me Then love came to be transformed in the tunnel of pleasure, soft clay to be moulded by matrimony.Memory purges and purifies the sounds of childhood we are cocooned by childhood until the discovery of sensuality, which washes over us and gradually bedazzles us Voiceless, cut off from my mother s words by some trick of memory, I managed to pass through the dark waters of the corridor, miraculously inviolate, not even guessing at the enclosing walls The shock of the first words blurted out the truth emerging from a break in my stammering voice From what nocturnal reef of pleasure did I manage to wrest this truth I blew the space within me to pieces, a space filled with desperate voiceless cries, frozen long ago in a prehistory of love Once I had discovered the meaning of the words those same words that are revealed to the unveiled body I cut myself adrift I set off at dawn, with my little girl s hand in mine. It is hard to know to what extent the book is autobiographical The I might be Djebar herself, or at least as much as the real woman Fatima Zohra Imalayen cares to reveal through her nom de plume In the last half of the book, where the sections follow one another like movements in a piece of chamber music, enfolding themes and variations, she will introduce several different I voices resistance fighters, exiles, torture victims in the last wars against the French any one of which might have been her as a young woman, but one assumes were not But she becomes all women, just as she becomes her whole country.And so to the title The Amour is not going to be a history of the writer s romantic life, though she has a remarkable passage when the young bride s cry at the moment of defloration in a Paris apartment becomes like a rallying cry echoing across borders and through time Fantasia is complex an allusion to the musical structure of the book, a specific term describing the cavalcades of horsemen with rifles that are features of Arab celebrations, and by analogy with fantassin meaning fighter a symbol of armed resistance Perhaps even a national ideal, noble but fated The same ambiguity returns in the final section of the book, entitled Tzarl Rit This is an Arab word for an ululation made by striking the lips with the hand like a child s war whoop Both Arabic French dictionaries she quotes ascribe this only to women, but one calls it a cry of joy, and the other a howl of despair There is much despair in this book, but joy too and that is what makes it so extraordinary Here is a small sample of Djebar s French, sonorous images with few verbs, admittedly at the end of a short chapter entitled Sistre sistrum , whose intent is both musical and poetic Soufflerie souffreteuse ou solennelle du temps d amour, soufri re de quelle attente, fi vre des staccato Silence rempart autour de la fortification du plaisir, et de sa digraphie Cr ation chaque nuit Or broch du silence.

  7. says:

    This is a book about giving a voice to those who are silent And to those who have been silenced Many people s stories weave in and out of one another, a tangle of emotion that eventually forms the tapestry of a nation s soul The stories center on Algeria France s initial occupation of Algeria in the 1830s and Algeria s war for independence in the 1950s.Most of the voices heard in this book are those of Algerian women The author herself, older war widows, young brides, outspoken women held in French prisons, silent watchers hidden behind their veils Ms Djebar an Algerian writer and member of l Acad mie Fran aise juxtaposes stories and images to communicate in an understated way the freedoms of French women up against the brutality of French generals, the repression of the veil alongside the bravery of Algerian women during the desperate circumstances of the war, the heartwarming along with the savage.As I was reading the book, I found it to be quite frustrating It s written almost entirely in the first person, but the narrator shifts without warning In each chapter, it required effort to discover the identity of the narrator At one moment the narrative is a memoir, at the next it s a historical account, then it s an interview with survivors of the war This made for a very frustrating read at times, but in the end the pieces all came together like a mosaic, all the beautiful and intriguing for the confusion and diversity of its materials Ultimately I was left with the impression that it was less important for me to know the identity of each speaker than to know that their combined voices made up the pulse of their struggling nation a heartbeat of shared experiences during a time of war and suffering Amid my frustration with the book s form, it was the style of the language that kept me reading The words and images struck me with force each scene felt vivid and immediate I was struck by the recurrence of the image of the veil we see the veil not only as a garment that hides, covers, and secludes women in their own cloistered world, but also as a metaphoric covering or baring of emotions in daily interactions Djebar points to the power of the veil as an image both when she describes a veiled face as a face tum fi e and when she speaks of writing as a refusal to veil her voice.Among the many stories, each told in its own unique voice, there is one chapter that brings an intimacy between the reader and the text that is almost hard to bear It is written in the second person in French the even intimate tu form , and tells the story of a pregnant Algerian hostage on a French ship She gives birth to a stillborn son and we feel her desperation as she senses that she no longer has a land in which to bury him The immediacy given by the feeling that the story is being told about oneself gathers the reader up into the full storm of emotion in the Algerian plight I can only end with the power of this woman s words Notre terre est eux Cette mer est eux O arbiter mon fils mort N y aura t il plus jamais un coin d Islam pour nous, les malheureux If you appreciated this review, check out my blog at pagesandmargins.wordpress.com

  8. says:

    My attempts to be worldly with my reading sometimes lead to great discoveries, and sometimes they lead me here Not that Assia Djebar is not a fine writer her prose is lovely, if a bit joyless I did not care for this book, however.One thing I would have appreciated would have been Djebar establishing a stronger narrative through line There are many first person narrators in this book, from all eras, and I couldn t keep them all clear Is the one who played with her cousins in the opening chapter the same one who later got married in Paris Whose brother died in the siege Was it hers or someone else s, or maybe even someone s grandmother s Maybe the point Djebar intended to make her was that the land Algeria is the real star here I definitely got a feel for the constant turmoil of the area, from the French invasion in 1830 up until their war for independence in the 1950s and 60s Djebar weaves a nice correspondence between this land teeming with contradictory traditions and the Muslim women, full of conflicting emotions about their lives, their bodies, and their relationships with men.But when the book moves back into the battlefield oh, so boring And the battlefield occupies at least 50% of the narrative So, ultimately, not a win for me.

  9. says:


  10. says:

    3.5 5This book is committed to a monumental undertaking, which is why I rounded up rather than down In addition, I was nearly as bewildered by this as I was by Women of Algiers in Their Apartment, which may be a result of this Fantasia having an element of relatable bildungsroman, or that it politically wore its heart on its sleeve, or that it was highly informative when it came to one portrait of one example of nineteenth century Euro colonizing of non Euro soil IN short, I m glad that my rather uncomprehending experiences with my first Djebar didn t scare me away from giving her a second chance with a popular work There won t be a third anytime soon, as I really do need to brush up on the history of Algeria before diving back into Djebar s words, even if this effort only manages to encompass the Algerian War of Independence The problem with combating the mainstreaming of narratives is having to continually face yet another margin to track down to intellectually stalemate satisfaction, and Djebar is anything but mainstream.Reading Beauvoir s third volume of autobiography gave me the closest, and likely most accurate, view of the Algerian War for Independence against France that I ve ever encountered Following it up with this was one of those fortunate coincidences put together by 2018 me s efforts to maximize on reading challenges while minimizing on number of books devoted across multiple directives, so in this reading I had that memory of the other side of the Mediterranean to cross examine and reference in juxtaposition to this work on Algerian soil I liked the beginning the best, as I was both and less familiar with the framework of the 1848 French Revolution to the point of desperately needing the context of the brutal conquest of Algeria that had occurred a decade or so prior As I went on, the text unfortunately became increasingly rote in its narration, less unique in individual facts, and enmeshed in a polyphony of borderline uniform testament, which is admittedly the point Djebar was driving at but still not my preference when it comes to imbibing non fic tion I also likely lost a great deal in terms of translation, as the sheer exuberance of the English text as embodied by the high flown choices in vocab makes it clear that Djebar was pushing the descriptive abilities of French to the point of forcing the translator into English to struggle to catch up Not so pressing an observation that I feel compelled to track down a French edition, as Djebar was likely infusing Arabic into the tongue of her colonizers, and learning two languages for the sake of a single work is above my pay grade, especially when considering the dozens of other languages I own literature of Real knowledge is always a struggle, and I am not ashamed of relying on the work of others to acquire it, for I am already fluent in one too many genocidal languages for my liking, and acquiring even one single other defeats the purpose of my efforts.I wish this book had struck me strongly than it ended up doing, but it is doing important work nevertheless, regardless of my own literary personal preferences As I said, I won t be reading any Djebar for a long while yet, or at least not until I ve educated myself a fair deal about her mother country One can easily imagine this author in particular treating Algeria as mother, and that perhaps contributes to my reticence, for personal reasons all my own In any case, I m in the midst of a fork in the road that still hasn t been completely resolved, and there are pros and cons on either side of the penultimate decision Neither of these compares to the choices Djebar s interviewed women had to make, but my uncertainty, and even fear, does allow me to sympathize that much , as well as commit to working for a world where a people will never savage another in the manner of France with Algeria, or any other pair of conqueror and conquest Lofty ideals understandably have long timelines, but Djebar just covered four and a half centuries in two and a quarter hundred pages, so the least I can do is focus on the big picture P lissier made only one mistake as he had a talent for writing, and was aware of this, he gave in his report an eloquent and realistic much too realistic description of the Arabs suffering

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