The title of this book, Kiffe kiffe demain, must give translators nightmares. The problem is that it’s a play on words, and not just on any normal words, but ghetto slang. “Kif kif” is vernacular roughly meaning “same ‘ole, same ‘ole”; “kiffer” is vernacular meaning “to like/love”. The title has a bittersweet tang derived from the opposing feelings of despair (“same ‘ole shit tomorrow”) and hope (“loving tomorrow”). That title must also give those tight-arsed asshats at the French Academy nightmares. “But zis is ghetto Frrench! Quelle horreur!” The book is set in the banlieues, which a dictionary will misleadingly translate as “suburbs”. This is not, however, Desperate Housewives territory: middle-class angst is more the preserve of the ill-de-la-cité. The banlieues are the French version of community housing with all the attendant connotations that entails. Its American equivalent is Harlem or the ghetto, and yes, the ambivalence (or just downright racism) of the French to these members of the population is their equivalent of the white-black divide in America. So much for liberté, égalité, et fraternité eh? Call the book a French mash-up, if you will, of Catcher in the Rye and The Invisible Man. It’s got that perfectly realised adolescent tone of scorn and angst, and the well-aimed barbs at the system of racism. It’s not a one-sided polemic, however. Doria, the heroine, is as critical of her fellow residents with their sexism and narrow-mindedness as she is of French racism. It’s also more hopeful than that pairing of American classics would suggest. As much as Guène punctures French racism, she also acknowledges how the French social safety net can be helpful: for example, Doria’s mother is able to get a better job through free literacy classes provided by the state. The comparison with Catcher in the Rye and The Invisible Man is as much to suggest that this work deserves to become a French classic. Not because it’s “Lit-ruh-chuh”, but almost precisely because it’s not. It’s a blast of fresh air through the self-satisfied, whiney navel-gazing going on in a lot of celebrated current French novels. For all the adolescent POV, the novel is refreshingly unself-centered. And in daring to put forth for the very first time in French literature a poor marginalised heroine like Doria front and centre of a literary work as a person wholly deserving of an equal place in the country of the bleu-blanc-rouge, Guène follows in the footsteps of Victor Hugo and Collette. And like her predecessors, she deserves as much to be called French as they are. Check out the Guardian interview with Faïza Guène, and recent reportage by Al Jazeera on the problem of discrimination in France. * Best line in the book for me: "En France, trois mots en "iste", ça suffit pour qu'on donne ton nom à un lycée, une rue, une bibliothèque ou une station de métro." (In France, [if you can be described with] three words with the suffix "ist" (e.g., journalist, socialist, unionist), that's all it takes for your name to be given to a school, a road, a library, or a subway station.)
“I wonder why they call them wisdom teeth… The more they grow, the more you understand stuff? Personally, I’ve learned that learning hurts.”It’s an understandable sentiment. Fifteen year old Doria’s life is far from perfect. She lives with her mother in a tower block on the outskirts of Paris.Her father has returned to his Moroccan birthplace to find a new wife who will provide him with the son he so badly wants. And so mother and daughter are left to subsist on the meagre wages that a woman who doesn’t speak the language can earn as an office cleaner.Understandably Doria is angry. With her father’s abandonment. With the casual racism that she and her mother regularly encounter. And with all the people who say they understand when they clearly don’t.But this isn’t an angry book. It’s a slice of the life of a fifteen year old girl who doen’t stop for too long to think about hows and whys. She just gets on with things.There are dark theme: poverty, opression, racism. But they are balanced by humour, emotional ties, and a wonderful sense of community.Doria holds it all together. She has a black sense of humour, a strong moral compass, and wonderful powers of observation. I loved her and I believed in her completely.I loved watching her interact with a broad cast. Mrs Burland, a counsellor who clearly cares but doesn’t quite understand. Hamoudi, her closest friend, Their lives are moving in different directions, but the bond between them remains. Shopkeepers, neighbours, aunties …Yes, community is so important.And there was plenty going on. This is one of those books you can open to any page and find a great one liner, a perfect observation or a memorable incident. Sometimes you’d find all three! A little more plot, a little more structure wouldn’t have gone amiss though. The story dropped into Doria’s and Yasmina’s lives, and then it dropped out again with a little progress but no real conclusion.But the rich content, beautifully balanced with a great authorial touch, did balance that.And it was lovely to meet Doria and Yasmina. Their relationship was the best thing of all. Doria’s pride in her mother and how she was working to support them both. Yasmina’s confidence in her daughter, tempered with concern and uncertainly about what the future might hold.That’s what is staying with me, and making me smile when I think about the book.
What do You think about Kiffe Kiffe Tomorrow (2006)?
Quite a different style, a unique voice that to read, feels like it might be to spend an afternoon with Doria, who is 15 and deplete of any enthusiasm for life, her father has gone back to Morocco to marry a younger, more fertile woman, her illiterate mother is learning to read and write and Doria is being forced to drop out of school.It's a stream of consciousness narrative in teen-speak, which suffers a little in translation, but ultimately provides an insight into the life of a girl living in a part of suburban Paris that isn't known for elevating one's position in life. My complete review here at Word by Word.
—Claire McAlpine
by Tahar Ben Jelloun, which tells the story of a 1st-generation Moroccan immigrant to France from the viewpoint of the parent, it was very interesting to read "Kiffe-Kiffe Demain," the story of another Moroccan immigrant family told through the eyes of a young teenage girl who lives in a Parisian housing project in the suburbs with her mother after her father has abandoned them. Doria is a wonderfully drawn character. She is the same as any angst-ridden teenager, suffering from the discomfort of navigating crushes and first love, disconnected from the goals and values foisted upon her by her school, protective and anxious for a parent who suffers at the hands of society. However, her experience becomes much more than that of the average teenager as she struggles to assimilate and survive the harsh reality of her world. The anger, confusion, and rebellion that Doria feels is expressed by Faïza Guène in a way that does not play on the more maudlin emotions of pity and sorrow, but instead brings us as much as possible into her world, where fighting for one's existence is the daily grind. I found myself comparing the immigrant experience from the viewpoint of the parent and the child, and trying to understand how the struggle to survive and belong has affected this large part of French society. I highly recommend this book, which is an easy read but will provide insights and questions that will resonate with you long after you have put it away.
—Kim Ibara
This was a quick, but really worthwhile, read. Doria lives in the projects just outside Paris and she and her mother just can't seem to catch a break. Her father has recently left them to move back to Morocco to marry a younger woman which starts a downward spiral. Not only does this essentially leave Doria and her mother destitute, it leaves them angry and broken. Doria's mother has never worked and can only find a job as a hotel maid where the hours are long and she is constantly put down. Both Doria and her mother struggle with their new situation and seem to sink deeper and deeper into despair. Doria is failing in school where she can't focus and where teachers don't seem to care, so she's sent off to a beauty school for her final year in high school, something she is less than thrilled with. But, while Doria's a little sad and maybe even a little self pitying, she is incredibly funny. "I saw myself more with MacGyver. A guy who can unclog a toilet with a can of Coke, fix the TV with a Bic pen, and give your hair a perfect blowout with his breath. A human Swiss Army Knife." About her dentist, "When she was a teenager, she must have had to choose between wrestler, riot cop, and dentist. It can't have been easy to decide, but she picked the one job out of the three that combines violence with perversity. No doubt it was more fun for a psychopath like her." I laughed out loud so many times. And I think this sums up the book pretty well. Doria ultimately finds something to be hopeful about. Things to begin to look up. There are a couple social workers who visit regularly and they get them services they need. Doria's mother takes classes and learns to read. She gets a better job and is actually home more with Doria. She even makes friends with the woman who taught the French classes and now has someone to talk to. Doria's only friend from the projects cleans up his act (mostly) and begins dating the young woman who Doria babysat for. She makes peace with the beauty school and decides she can use it to get a job and as a stepping stone. And she may have even found a friend (or boyfriend?) in one of the Arab boys that lives in the projects too. Life doesn't seem so bleak.
—Elizabeth
