"Si tu étais si attaché à ta carte d’ouvrier, c’est sans doute parce que tu étais un homme sans titre. Toi qui es né dépossédé, de tout titre de propriété comme de citoyenneté, tu n’auras connu que des titres de transport et de résidence. Le titre en latin veut dire l’inscription. Et si tu étais bien inscrit quelque part en tout petit, ce n’était hélas que pour t’effacer. Tu as figuré sur l’interminable liste des hommes à broyer au travail, comme tant d’autres avant toi à malaxer dans les tranchées."
En lisant Misère de la Kabylie, reportage publié par Camus en 1939, Xavier Le Clerc découvre dans quelles conditions de dénuement son père a grandi. L’auteur retrace le parcours de cet homme courageux, si longtemps absent et mutique, arrivé d’Algérie en 1962, embauché comme manœuvre à la Société métallurgique de Normandie. Ce témoignage captivant est un cri de révolte contre l’injustice et la misère organisée, mais il laisse aussi entendre une voix apaisée qui invite à réfléchir sur les notions d’identité et d’intégration.
«Su relato parecía un cuento bereber, y de pequeño ya percibía, escuchando atentamente a mi padre, lo delgada que es la línea que separa la magia de los recuerdos».
Paisajes de la Cabilia, excesos coloniales, procesos migratorios y de pobreza. La metrópoli francesa entre el bien y el mal, quizás más cercana al mal. Infancias desbocadas al encuentro de una identidad marcada por el color de piel, la cartera medio llena y medio vacía.
j’ai plein de choses à dire mais je n’en dirais rien! je suis très partagée, j’ai plutôt aimé mais il y a quelques points que j’ai toujours du mal à entendre et à lire, mais si c’est sa réalité à lui alors qui suis je pour juger QUI SUIS JE c’est la question de ma vie finalement
A really powerful book dedicated to a father who struggled through starvation, poverty, colonialism, migration, and war. You can see how the author tries to give words to a father who was never given them before.
La véritable littérature est celle qui vous bouleverse, vous confronte à vos convictions les plus profondes, les ébranle et vous interroge sur leur origine.
Tout ce que j’aime se trouve dans ce roman : une plume belle, simple et envoûtante, un récit à taille humaine sur l’Algérie, pendant et après la guerre, à travers l’histoire du père de l’auteur. Il met en lumière le combat des gens ordinaires, ceux qui n’ont pas d’histoire mais qui façonnent l’Histoire, et le cheminement de l’auteur pour affirmer son identité, jusqu’à changer de nom. Ce livre m’a rappelé L’art de perdre d’Alice Zeniter, que j’ai autant aimé, bien que ce roman-ci soit plus personnel et moins axé sur des faits historiques complexes. J’espère croiser bientôt des œuvres similaires.
Fils d'immigré, ayant changé de nom pour trouver plus facilement du travail en Angleterre. A travers ce court roman de 128 pages, l'auteur retrace la biographie de son père algérien, dont l'enfance pauvre l'a conduit à se rendre en France pour travailler à l'usine. Ce portrait du père dressé est touchant, fin et subtile, conduisant le lecteur dans cette vie si particulière sans tomber dans un pathos larmoyant. Bel hommage sincère du fils pour son père si discret.
J'ai beaucoup aimé la richesse des références littéraires, notamment celle de Camus, Rimbaud, Ernaux...A découvrir!!
4,5 Magnifique découverte de cet auteur à l'écriture fluide et belle. L'histoire et la manière de l'aborder sont superbes (même si évidemment, c'est loin d'être un conte de fée).
The troubled relations between France and Algeria, its former colony, have inspired a number of novels including, “Un homme sans titre” in 2022, translated as “A man with no title”. In this, Xavier le Clerc pays homage to his father ,Mohand-Saïd, an illiterate but resilient man, by tracing his course from desperate poverty in Algeria, to a dead-end job as an immigrant in a Normandy metal factory, still barely earning enough to feed his large family.
Perhaps because Mohand-Saïd was so uncommunicative, le Clerc had to resort to quoting Albert Camus to give a fuller sense of the depth of deprivation suffered by his father in early life, living on “weeds and roots”. Camus himself had written a powerful novel on a similar theme, “Le premier homme” (The First Man), unfortunately unfinished because of his early death. This is a fictionalised autobiography of an apparently slightly less grim childhood, which provides vivid images of Algeria and observations on the social and political situation there in the first half of the C20, to which Le Clerc has little to add.
The early chapters make harrowing reading, but give pause for thought. As Mohand-Saïd’s mother waited in vain for the return of a husband who probably came to grief on the way to or from work rather than be guilty of abandoning her, the eight-year old boy had to work. This included driving a donkey laden with charcoal which would be confiscated if he were caught, because it had been produced without a permit. This was probably the only illegal act in which Mohand-Saïd ever took part, unlike some of his own children and their friends who were tempted into crime by the lack of opportunities. This is assuming that he did not collaborate with the rebel movements against France which sprang up in the 1950s. Nearly fifty years later, he confided to his son that he was tortured by French soldiers, but for reasons which remain unclear.
Independence, when it came, did not bring employment, so Mohand-Saïd responded to a recruitment campaign and boarded a boat to Marseilles, with no choice as to type of work, or where it would be located. In due course he made an arranged marriage to a much younger cousin, brought over to France only in 1978 when the French government permitted such immigrants “the right to lead a normal family life”. Occasional trips back to Algeria by his wife and children, loaded with gifts and tales to impress relatives, masked what was just a different form of poverty. Mohand-Saïd endured the situation since he lacked the capacity to change, but his frustration would burst out in occasional violence against his children.
The last forty pages or so of this short novel take a sudden change in tack, with a focus on Le Clerc himself. An early love of reading sets him on an academic path to professional employment and success as a novelist and poet. At the same time, his desire to live as a gay man created a rupture with his family, whose culture made them feel “dishonoured” by this. It is only in the final chapter that the author explains what should have puzzled the reader: the very French-sounding name “Xavier le Clerc” which he has chosen to adopt formally.
Le Clerc ends with a lengthy letter, addressed to his father. Written after his death, it brings together the strands of their lives to express a final understanding of the silence, punctuated by rage, of the man he once thought mad.
I never enjoy rating a personal non-fiction anything less than four stars (unless the author is a creepy asshole - yes I'm looking at you, Matthew McConaughey), but A Man With No Title was too long for what it was and far too short for what it could have been.
I was expecting a deeply moving portrait of a father by the son of an exploited immigrant, and while there certainly were some moments of this, for the most part it reads like a portrait of a family written by someone who actually only met them twice. This in itself could be a commentary on the immigrant experience, but the author never fully set a scene which just left me feeling lost and unmoved. There are so many scenes in this novel that could've been fleshed out with personal reflection of some sort by the author, but he didn't go there until the very end, where he discusses the reasoning behind changing his name.
I don't know whether my issues were exacerbated by this being a translated work, because there's always something to lose in translation. It is certainly not the first time a translated book feels like it is keeping me at arms length, but unfortunately I don't read French so there really is no way to know.
The sad part is that I think the experience of this family in its entirety is one that should absolutely be told. I just wish the author actually told it. This unfortunately felt like an outline, and I just did not end up really getting much out of it.
Thank you to the publisher for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
This is a heartbreaking story of a man recounting his father’s life living through poverty and war. I felt every word written in such a short book. However, the writing was, in my opinion, not my favorite. There was something off about it that I just couldn’t get myself to connect with. It read like a diary. There were some very valuable moments in this book, and I wish we got more of them. More of the parents, more of the siblings. And especially more of the main character Hamid/Xavier. Nonetheless, I thoroughly enjoyed this book and would recommend it to those looking for a short but impactful read.
Un livre qui s’inscrit dans un contexte difficile, celui de la France et l’Algérie. La demande de mains d’oeuvre en France fut pour beaucoup d’Algériens la seule opportunité de travail. L’auteur se met a nu et raconte l’histoire de son grand-père, père et sa propre histoire. J’ai beaucoup aimé comment l’auteur écrit son livre; des mots recherchés, l’on ressent une influence d’auteurs comme Camus et autres auteurs classique de la littérature française et Nord africaine.
J'ai trouvé l'écriture plutôt fade, plate. Cette lecture ne m'a pas émue. J'aurai certainement préféré l'histoire de la mère de l'auteur, mariée à 15 ans, répudiée, à nouveau mariée à un homme bien plus âgé qu'elle et plutôt violent, qui lui imposera de nombreux enfants, une vie recluse entre les courses, les repas et le linge. Pourquoi avoir choisi d'écrire sur son père alors qu'après de nombreuses démarches, il a réussi à ne plus en porter le nom ?
2.5 : J’ai adoré le pain des français, ce livre me laisse un peu perplexe. Je trouve finalement que l’auteur décrit assez peu son père, mais plus son évolution à lui dans son contexte familial. Le personnage du père nous paraît assez éloigné finalement et on dirait plus une sorte d’introspection / journal intime de l’auteur, histoire qui reste intéressante néanmoins mais qui ne m’a pas embarqué plus que ça.
"But how can you dream of equality with a mind that is oppressed by the constant need to earn a living?"
"My illiterate father was my first book. He was bursting with captive words and feelings, which escaped only in fragments. It wasn't easy to bribe the warden of his imprisoned memory."
"Besides, does hunger really end when a stomach is no longer empty or does some insatiable ogre get lodged in our deepest, innermost fears and eventually devour our minds along with our guts?"
This is a nicely written work about the life of an ordinary man, who sacrificed himself for others--his family, the industrialists who owned the workplace where he worked for decades, his culture, etc.--and whose life was difficult, as was his relationship with others and the world. Perhaps a bit too sparse for us to understand this man, but the author clearly has talent.
A moving tribute to a father who got lost in history somewhere between colonial Algeria to France, through violence, poverty and discrimination. Wonderfully written (although sometimes a bit pompous maybe, might have been a translation issue though). Could have gone even deeper in some parts, especially towards the end. For fans of Annie Ernaux or Edourd Louis.
Un regalo a un padre fallecido, un grito sordo como recuerdo a una vida de sacrificio, de tristeza por el abandono de tu país, por la búsqueda de una vida mejor que nunca llegó.
Una historia que habla de inmigración, de ocupación, de discriminación, de miedos pero también de amor y comprensión; de tradiciones y costumbres y también y lo más importante de libertad e identidad.
Très beau livre sur les origines, la pauvreté, la persévérance et l’espoir. Malgré ce aue l’auteur a vécu il n’y a pa de ressenti évent ou de haine mais de la compréhension, de la gratitude et de l’empathie. Style d’écriture très simple pour impact maximal.
L’auteur raconte Histoire de son père, qu’il a découverte un peu tard, et qui lui permet de mieux comprendre son personnage. Livre mi personnel - mi politique Intéressant mais pas « prenant »
Quand je l'ai pris je m'attendais à qqc plus émotif mais finalement non mm si g qd mm aimé me plonger dans ce nouveau quotidien. Ct pas une lecture hyper rapide mais cv g bien aimé finalement.