2024-11-04 12:46:00
The French-Algerian author and former journalist was awarded against Hélène Gaudy, Sandrine Collette and Gaël Faye, for his black novel about the civil war of the “black decade” in Algeria.
The French-Algerian writer Kamel Daoud, winner of the Goncourt Prize this Monday 4 November, at the age of 54, is a critical chronicler of Algeria whose freedom of tone ended up forcing him to reluctantly leave his city of Oran for Paris.
Hours (Edizioni Gallimard), Goncourt’s winning novel, could not be exported to Algeria, much less translated into Arabic. As the author writes in his novel, Algerian law prohibits any mention in a book of the bloody events of the “Black Decade”, the civil war between the government and Islamists between 1992 and 2002.
In Algeria, “I am attacked because I am neither communist, nor decolonial, nor anti-French”, this “exile by force of circumstances” said to Point, the French magazine for which he is an editorialist, in August.
Traitor label
He took French nationality. Even saying, in reference to the poet Guillaume Apollinaire, born Polish and naturalized in the midst of the First World War: “I have Apollinaire syndrome, I am more French than the French”.
A large part of Algerian opinion and intelligentsia cannot shake off the label of traitor to his country.
Many Algerians, by contrast, admire his writing, his knowledge of the country’s history and his persistence in asking angry questions. Starting with the publisher Sofiane Hadjadj, of Barzakh editions, who published it in 2013 Meursault, counter-investigation.
“He invented his own way of writing,” he commented at the time of the resounding success of this novel, noted by Actes Sud.
Released in France in 3,000 copies in May 2014, this rereading of the plot of The stranger by Albert Camus will be one of the literary successes of the year, with more than 100,000 copies sold. Finalist for the Goncourt Prize, the work won, among others, the Goncourt for high school students.
In the crosshairs of an invective from a Salafist imam
The comments made on French television then earned Kamel Daoud a diatribe from a Salafist imam, which would have been a fatwa if its author had been legitimate. A court would convict this imam in 2016 for “death threats,” before an appeals court buried the case.
The son of a gendarme, Kamel Daoud was born in Mostaganem (northwest) in June 1970, the eldest of six children. He was raised by his grandparents in a village where he became an imam as a teenager, rubbing shoulders with Islamists, before turning away from the religion.
The only one of his brothers to study literature, he devoted himself to journalism, first at Détective, the Algerian version of the news magazine, then at an important French-speaking newspaper, Le Quotidien d’Oran.
“I have the right to think and defend my ideas”
As he explained during the promotion of HoursJournalist positions became available after the murders. The work was dangerous and very delicate: it was necessary to give news of massacres that everyone wanted to hide, minimize or exaggerate.
His reputation for integrity derives from this period, then from articles and columns in which he bluntly denounced everything that devours Algerian society: corruption, religious hypocrisy, abandonment of power, violence, archaisms, inequalities. Father of two children, he abandoned journalism in 2016, in favor of literature.
After a lively controversy, in France and beyond, for his denunciation in Le Monde of “sexual misery in the Arab-Muslim world, of the unhealthy relationship with women, with the body and with desire”. Some had accused him of maintaining a racist cliché.
“I have the right to think and defend my ideas,” he responded in an interview with AFP in 2017. “It is not necessary for every Algerian to be on the same page.”
Time.news Interview: Kamel Daoud and the Shadows of Algeria
Editor (E): Good afternoon, everyone. Today, we’re thrilled to have Kamel Daoud with us, a distinguished author and the recent winner of the Goncourt Prize for his novel Hours, which confronts the tumultuous civil war in Algeria. Welcome, Kamel.
Kamel Daoud (K): Thank you for having me. It’s a pleasure to be here.
E: Kamel, your latest novel has stirred quite a conversation, especially considering its subject matter. Can you tell us more about what inspired you to write Hours?
K: Absolutely. The civil war in Algeria, known as the “black decade,” is a period that shaped generations. It’s a topic that’s often avoided in Algeria due to legal restrictions and societal taboos. I wanted to bring that history forward, to force people to confront the reality of what happened and how it affects us today.
E: Speaking of its reception, the novel is not allowed to be published or translated in Algeria. Can you share what that restriction means for both you and your audience back home?
K: It’s deeply unsettling. While writing this novel, I understood that it could not resonate in the very country that inspired it. The prohibition speaks volumes about the fear surrounding the truth of our past. For many Algerians, my words become a ghost — present yet unreachable, a painful reminder of the silence imposed on us.
E: You mentioned in an interview that you’ve been labeled a “traitor” for taking French nationality. Could you elaborate on that sentiment and how it influences your writing?
K: Labels like “traitor” can be a heavy cross to bear, especially when your intention is to explore rather than abandon your roots. My identity is complex; I have lived and breathed Algeria, and my writings are infused with that reality. Yet, choosing to reside in France where I can write freely has put me at odds with some segments of Algerian society. I seek truth in my stories, not acceptance.
E: There’s a fascinating interplay in your work between acceptance and rejection. Your previous novel, Meursault, counter-investigation, was widely successful, critically acclaimed, and yet you faced backlash for it. How do you handle that dichotomy?
K: It’s a paradox indeed. I write to challenge, provoke thought, and articulate discomfort. Some may admire my work, while others view it as a betrayal. It’s this tension that adds depth to literature, pushing readers to grapple with their feelings towards their history and identity, and that’s what keeps me motivated.
E: In light of the conflicts you’ve faced, you also mentioned that your work has elicited threats, including a diatribe from a Salafist imam. How do you navigate your safety while staying true to your convictions?
K: Safety is a serious concern. Writing is an act of courage, particularly in a landscape fraught with ideological battles. I remind myself that fear can’t be a cage; rather, it’s a reminder of what’s at stake. My commitment to truth empowers me to stand firm in my narrative.
E: Your approach to storytelling is undeniably bold. How do you envision the future of storytelling in Algeria, especially with the shadow of restrictions hanging over it?
K: I am hopeful. The young generation is increasingly hungry for honest narratives, and they’re finding ways to share their truths, whether through literature, social media, or art. The desire for freedom of expression will never be extinguished; it will evolve, flourish, and possibly reshape how we narrate our identity.
E: That’s an inspiring outlook, Kamel. As you continue to inspire the next generation of writers, what message do you hope they take from your journey?
K: I hope they see that courage is essential. Fear is a part of the process, but it should never prevent them from raising their voices. Write with passion, with honesty, and never shy away from confronting uncomfortable truths.
E: Thank you for sharing your insights with us today. It’s been a pleasure speaking with you, Kamel.
K: Thank you for having me. I appreciate the opportunity to discuss these important topics.