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Ceea ce ziua datorează nopții
„Ceea ce ziua datorează nopții” este poate cea mai impresionanta, profund umana, carte a Yasminei Khadra (pseudonim literar al autorului francez de origine algeriana Mohammed Moulessehoul). Un adevarat imn adus dragostei sub toate formele sale: prietenie, dragostea-pasiune, dragostea filiala, dragostea de tara. Însusi autorul marturiseste ca adevarata sa intentie a fost sa scrie „un mare roman de dragoste, în genul operelor Pe aripile vântului sau Doctor Jivago.”
327 pages, ebook
First published August 21, 2008
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12239 people want to read
About the author
Yasmina Khadra
62 books1,792 followersYasmina Khadra (Arabic: ياسمينة خضراء, literally "green jasmine") is the pen name of the Algerian author Mohammed Moulessehoul.
Moulessehoul, an officer in the Algerian army, adopted a woman's pseudonym to avoid military censorship. Despite the publication of many successful novels in Algeria, Moulessehoul only revealed his true identity in 2001 after leaving the army and going into exile and seclusion in France. Anonymity was the only way for him to survive and avoid censorship during the Algerian Civil War.
In 2004, Newsweek acclaimed him as "one of the rare writers capable of giving a meaning to the violence in Algeria today."
His novel The Swallows of Kabul, set in Afghanistan under the Taliban, was shortlisted for the 2006 International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award. L'Attentat won the Prix des libraires in 2006, a prize chosen by about five thousand bookstores in France, Belgium, Switzerland, and Canada.
Khadra pledges for becoming acquainted with the view of the others. In an interview with the German radio SWR1 in 2006, he said “The West interprets the world as he likes it. He develops certain theories that fit into its world outlook, but do not always represent the reality. Being a Muslim, I suggest a new perspective on Afghanistan, on the religious fanaticism and the, how I call it - religiopathy. My novel, the The Swallows of Kabul, gives the readers in the West a chance to understand the core of a problem that he usually only touches on the surface. Because the fanaticism is a threat for all, I contribute to the understanding of the causes and backgrounds. Perhaps then it will be possible to find a way to bring it under control.”
Moulessehoul, an officer in the Algerian army, adopted a woman's pseudonym to avoid military censorship. Despite the publication of many successful novels in Algeria, Moulessehoul only revealed his true identity in 2001 after leaving the army and going into exile and seclusion in France. Anonymity was the only way for him to survive and avoid censorship during the Algerian Civil War.
In 2004, Newsweek acclaimed him as "one of the rare writers capable of giving a meaning to the violence in Algeria today."
His novel The Swallows of Kabul, set in Afghanistan under the Taliban, was shortlisted for the 2006 International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award. L'Attentat won the Prix des libraires in 2006, a prize chosen by about five thousand bookstores in France, Belgium, Switzerland, and Canada.
Khadra pledges for becoming acquainted with the view of the others. In an interview with the German radio SWR1 in 2006, he said “The West interprets the world as he likes it. He develops certain theories that fit into its world outlook, but do not always represent the reality. Being a Muslim, I suggest a new perspective on Afghanistan, on the religious fanaticism and the, how I call it - religiopathy. My novel, the The Swallows of Kabul, gives the readers in the West a chance to understand the core of a problem that he usually only touches on the surface. Because the fanaticism is a threat for all, I contribute to the understanding of the causes and backgrounds. Perhaps then it will be possible to find a way to bring it under control.”
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 994 reviews
December 20, 2013
Un Coup de Cœur...! Vibrant, lumineux, époustouflant..Quel talent! Quelle éloquence! On dirait qu'il était inspiré par toutes les forces de l'univers en écrivant chaque phrase, chaque passage.. Une écriture merveilleusement musicale, un style très particulier...Yasmina Khadra sait très bien aller tout droit à son but. Au cœur du lecteur! Un roman profondément humain, généreux. Il parle des racines, de la dignité, du courage, de la sagesse, de l'ouverture et de la tolérance, de la vie et de toutes les amours qui peuvent exister. Tellement vrai. Tellement réel.
Sur le fond d'une histoire coloniale, celle de l'Algérie, 'Ce que le jour doit à la nuit' appréhende la complexité de l'être humain, le poids du passé et des origines dans la construction d'une personnalité, les faces d'ombre et de lumière en chacun de nous. C'est un drame qui a conduit amis et familles à s’entre déchirer sans jamais pointer le doigt et juger les acteurs. «L'Algérie algérienne naissait au forceps dans une crue de larmes et de sang ; l'Algérie française rendait l'âme dans de torrentielles saignées. Et toutes les deux, laminées par sept ans de guerre et d'horreur, bien qu'au bout du rouleau trouvaient encore la force de s'entre déchirer comme jamais». Par la magie de la plume de l'auteur, on vit à la place des héros, on se ballade dans les coins de Rio Salado, d'Oran, d'Alger et même de Jenane Jato..Et puis Younes, qui passe à côté de la plus belle histoire de sa vie à cause de son incapacité de choisir, de son indétermination, cherchant toujours les raisons de son inertie...
Je ne peux pas en écrire davantage, certains détails, certaines impressions restent dans un coin de l'âme, à jamais...
Merci Yasmina Khadra. Vous savez bien marquer vos lecteurs!...
Sur le fond d'une histoire coloniale, celle de l'Algérie, 'Ce que le jour doit à la nuit' appréhende la complexité de l'être humain, le poids du passé et des origines dans la construction d'une personnalité, les faces d'ombre et de lumière en chacun de nous. C'est un drame qui a conduit amis et familles à s’entre déchirer sans jamais pointer le doigt et juger les acteurs. «L'Algérie algérienne naissait au forceps dans une crue de larmes et de sang ; l'Algérie française rendait l'âme dans de torrentielles saignées. Et toutes les deux, laminées par sept ans de guerre et d'horreur, bien qu'au bout du rouleau trouvaient encore la force de s'entre déchirer comme jamais». Par la magie de la plume de l'auteur, on vit à la place des héros, on se ballade dans les coins de Rio Salado, d'Oran, d'Alger et même de Jenane Jato..Et puis Younes, qui passe à côté de la plus belle histoire de sa vie à cause de son incapacité de choisir, de son indétermination, cherchant toujours les raisons de son inertie...
Je ne peux pas en écrire davantage, certains détails, certaines impressions restent dans un coin de l'âme, à jamais...
Merci Yasmina Khadra. Vous savez bien marquer vos lecteurs!...
November 4, 2011
On the surface, this is an agonizingly thin story of love and renunciation. The events of the brutal war of liberation and the looming tragedy of the Algerian civil war color the novel, but are not the secret of its compelling inner life. This is a novel of lost love told without nostalgia. It is permeated by the spirit of forgiveness.
Younes/Jonas is a boy without a home, and later a young man without a clear place in the world around him. He stands with a foot in each camp that divides colonial Algeria: poor/rich, Arab/European, Muslim/Christian. In each case, he can only observe the lives of others as he is swept along in their wake.
His long life is repeatedly shattered by the consequences of the one childhood act of spontaneous connection he makes as a boy with a young girl in his adopted village.
Khadra makes us wait with Younes for the hard won insight that the stations of life are not places to inhabit. Rather, they are moments of opportunity that will not repeat themselves.
December 21, 2021
رواية جميلة عن الحب والصداقة، الفقر والحرب. رواية حزينة مؤثرة مشوقة ورائعة .
اقتباسات
“إن الرجل ليس إلا رعونة وحماقات، أخطاء في الحساب ومناورات مزيفة، تهور غير محسوب وموضوع إخفاق حينما يظن أنه يتقدّم نحو مصيره وهو يبعد المرأة... صَحيح أن المرأة ليست كل شيء، ولكن كل شيء يرتكز على المرأة.”
“انْظُر حولك، تفحص التاريخ، تأمل المعمورة بأسرها وقل لي ما مكانة الرجال بلا نساء، ما هي أمنياتهم ودعاواهم حينما لا تكون النساء موضوعها. أن تكون غنيا مثل قارون أو فقيرا مثل أيوب، مقموعا أو طاغيا، لا يكفي أي أفق لملء رؤيتك إن أدارت لك المرأة ظهرها”.
“حينما لا تكون المرأة الطموح الأسمى للرجل، حينما لا تشكل نهاية كل مبادرة في هذا العالم، لا تستحق الحياة أفراحها ولا أفراحها”.
“إذا أردت أن تجعل من حياتك حلقة من الأبد وتحافظ على صفاء ذهنك إلى غاية لبّ الهذيان، اعشق … اعشق بكل قواك، اعشق كما لو أنك لا تعرف أن تفعل غير هذا، اعشق إلى حدّ إثارة غيرة الأمراء والآلهة… لأن كل قبح يجد جمالاً له في العشق”.
ياسمينة خضرا.
اقتباسات
“إن الرجل ليس إلا رعونة وحماقات، أخطاء في الحساب ومناورات مزيفة، تهور غير محسوب وموضوع إخفاق حينما يظن أنه يتقدّم نحو مصيره وهو يبعد المرأة... صَحيح أن المرأة ليست كل شيء، ولكن كل شيء يرتكز على المرأة.”
“انْظُر حولك، تفحص التاريخ، تأمل المعمورة بأسرها وقل لي ما مكانة الرجال بلا نساء، ما هي أمنياتهم ودعاواهم حينما لا تكون النساء موضوعها. أن تكون غنيا مثل قارون أو فقيرا مثل أيوب، مقموعا أو طاغيا، لا يكفي أي أفق لملء رؤيتك إن أدارت لك المرأة ظهرها”.
“حينما لا تكون المرأة الطموح الأسمى للرجل، حينما لا تشكل نهاية كل مبادرة في هذا العالم، لا تستحق الحياة أفراحها ولا أفراحها”.
“إذا أردت أن تجعل من حياتك حلقة من الأبد وتحافظ على صفاء ذهنك إلى غاية لبّ الهذيان، اعشق … اعشق بكل قواك، اعشق كما لو أنك لا تعرف أن تفعل غير هذا، اعشق إلى حدّ إثارة غيرة الأمراء والآلهة… لأن كل قبح يجد جمالاً له في العشق”.
ياسمينة خضرا.
February 2, 2018
Too many things left unsaid, too much cowardice, too many silences in this book. Younes could have had a beautiful life without so much to miss and to regret, if only he decided to really want something bad enough. To act, to react, to say what was in his mind.
His family's story tore me apart, his friend relationships saddened me, his loneliness was too much to bear to me.
This book is the essential proof that you can be the unhappiest when you don't open your mouth and speak your feelings.
His family's story tore me apart, his friend relationships saddened me, his loneliness was too much to bear to me.
This book is the essential proof that you can be the unhappiest when you don't open your mouth and speak your feelings.
February 18, 2019
What the Day Owes the Night is a strong criticism of the French colonisation of Algeria. Seen through the eyes of a young boy called Younes, we travel through time with him to see how Algeria copes with colonisation before demanding for independence, which is long in coming.
Younes himself was born to a farmer and lived in the countryside as a child. When his father lost his farms, they had to move to Oran, where they lived in a filthy slum. His father tries to make ends meet, but when things don't work out, he decides that Younes needs more opportunities, and sends him off to his brother to be educated. The book is engrossing and quite heartbreaking at times until this portion, even if Younes' father exasperated me more than once.
Younes is suddenly transported to a life of wealth and privilege and is renamed Jonas. From this point on, the story gets annoying. He makes friends with the French settlers and even takes their barbs about Arabs being lazy and untrustworthy just so that he could fit in. I lost sympathy with the protagonist, but the story also took a maudlin turn as Younes moons over an annoying woman for the rest of his life, an infatuation that colours the rest of the book. It is as boring as watching paint dry.
Then comes the Algerian War of Independence, and Younes has to decide how he 'votes'. But all he does is think about Emilie and cry. As compelling as this section could have been, it wasn't because the author chose to make this a novel about teenage angst (continued into adulthood) instead of a decent historical fiction.
The book also concentrated on the French pied-noir population rather than the Algerians. While one can sympathise with these people, it would have been nice to see everything from the viewpoint of a local. And by that, I don't mean wishy-washy Younes. These French-Algerians loved the country and considered it their homeland; they just didn't like the local Algerians. For me, it was also unbelievable how Younes' uncle and Germaine lived quite happily without one or either facing criticism for their union - from any quarter!
Even though the subject offers an enormous scope to explore interesting issues, What the Day Owes the Night ended up a very superficial story with the focus on an uninteresting romance.
Younes himself was born to a farmer and lived in the countryside as a child. When his father lost his farms, they had to move to Oran, where they lived in a filthy slum. His father tries to make ends meet, but when things don't work out, he decides that Younes needs more opportunities, and sends him off to his brother to be educated. The book is engrossing and quite heartbreaking at times until this portion, even if Younes' father exasperated me more than once.
Younes is suddenly transported to a life of wealth and privilege and is renamed Jonas. From this point on, the story gets annoying. He makes friends with the French settlers and even takes their barbs about Arabs being lazy and untrustworthy just so that he could fit in. I lost sympathy with the protagonist, but the story also took a maudlin turn as Younes moons over an annoying woman for the rest of his life, an infatuation that colours the rest of the book. It is as boring as watching paint dry.
Then comes the Algerian War of Independence, and Younes has to decide how he 'votes'. But all he does is think about Emilie and cry. As compelling as this section could have been, it wasn't because the author chose to make this a novel about teenage angst (continued into adulthood) instead of a decent historical fiction.
The book also concentrated on the French pied-noir population rather than the Algerians. While one can sympathise with these people, it would have been nice to see everything from the viewpoint of a local. And by that, I don't mean wishy-washy Younes. These French-Algerians loved the country and considered it their homeland; they just didn't like the local Algerians. For me, it was also unbelievable how Younes' uncle and Germaine lived quite happily without one or either facing criticism for their union - from any quarter!
Even though the subject offers an enormous scope to explore interesting issues, What the Day Owes the Night ended up a very superficial story with the focus on an uninteresting romance.
February 6, 2016
”Dacă vrei să faci din viaţa ta o verigă a eternităţii şi să rămâi lucid până în toiul delirului, iubeşte… Iubeşte cu toate puterile tale, iubeşte ca şi cum n-ai şti nimic altceva să faci, iubeşte într-atât încât să-i faci geloşi pe prinţese şi zei… pentru că în dragoste toată urâţenia îşi descoperă frumuseţea.”
June 6, 2011
Although we learn a lot about the history of Algier in this book, I found the main story of Younes/Jonas unsatisfying. He holds back, torments himself, doesn't find the courage to say yes to the love of his life, until it's too late, way way too late. I found his constant regurgitation of his sorrows to be quite depressing. The event in his life that supposedly kept him prisoner, feels rather insufficient to cause him such incapacity to live. I'm biased, I admit, I like people who despite circumstances figure a way to make something out of the mess they've found themselves in. I wish to be inspired...
May 28, 2022
ليست حياة، كنا موجودين على سطح الأرض، هذا كل ما في الأمر …
الجزائر، البلاد التي سُلبت، وعانت، خُذلت، ودُمرت، لكنها صمدتْ، وعلى مدى عقود رفضت أن تنكسر، قاومت حتى ظَفرت، لكن خلال جميع تلك السنوات شهدت على شتى العلاقات التي يُمكن أن تُنسج يوماً بين البلاد والمُستعمِر، صداقات وحب وكره وأُلفة وقتل ومصالح …، شعوب تفاعلت ما بينها متناسية أن في هذه الحياة التي نحياها يستحيل امتزاج الزيت بالماء، وأن هناك جدراناً نفتعلها مُجبَرين حتى لا تحول بيننا الجدران التي ليس لنا بها يد.
قد تُوهَم أنها رواية عن الحرب، و توثيق للتاريخ المليء بالندبات، لكنها في العمق، رواية عن الاختلاف، عن الحدود التي نعجز عن عبورها، فيقف كلٌ منا على جهة، مبتسماً وهو يلوّح بمدامعه للآخر، صديقاً كان أم غريباً، عدواً أو حبيباً، ومهما تشابهنا في إنسانيتنا، ومهما تقاربت أرواحنا، سنقف قاب خطوة أو أدنى، من أن تكون لنا حياة طبيعية، كما هو متوقع من جنس البشر.
جوناس، أو يونس، جزائري نشأ وعاش -بحكم الاستعمار- في أوساط فرنسية، كل صداقاته، علاقاته، نزواته، وأحلامه، كانت مرهونة بشكل موقفه من هذا الاستعمار، أصبح في نظر الطرفين خائناً، اضطُر أن يحاذي الحب ويهرع مبتعداً لأجل أصلٍ لم يختره، تخلى عن صداقات شكّلت أغلب ماضيه، وهُجِر من أناس كانوا له حاضره، صراع الهوية في أشرس أشكاله، فهل يُحسن الاختيار في ظل هذا التعقيد؟
الإنسان السوي مهما تتالت عليه المحن، وتكالبت عليه نوائب الزمان، يستحيل ألا يرى الصواب ضمن الأباطيل، لذا مهمته ليست في التفريق بينهما، إنما في الاختيار بين الفعل والسكون، أيهما أعقل في أوانه، أن تحارب لأجل شيء أم تُرخي اللجام؟؟ هذه هي القضية.
- لماذا هذه الابتسامة الساخرة؟
- كي لا أبكي.
بعض الروايات كُتبَت كي نقول بها "مرحباً" و أخرى كي نلوّح عبرها "موّدِعين"، وهذا الرواية كانت لي الاثنين معاً ..
على الهامش:
"قاتل الله الترجمة، فقد أفقدتها الكثير"
الجزائر، البلاد التي سُلبت، وعانت، خُذلت، ودُمرت، لكنها صمدتْ، وعلى مدى عقود رفضت أن تنكسر، قاومت حتى ظَفرت، لكن خلال جميع تلك السنوات شهدت على شتى العلاقات التي يُمكن أن تُنسج يوماً بين البلاد والمُستعمِر، صداقات وحب وكره وأُلفة وقتل ومصالح …، شعوب تفاعلت ما بينها متناسية أن في هذه الحياة التي نحياها يستحيل امتزاج الزيت بالماء، وأن هناك جدراناً نفتعلها مُجبَرين حتى لا تحول بيننا الجدران التي ليس لنا بها يد.
قد تُوهَم أنها رواية عن الحرب، و توثيق للتاريخ المليء بالندبات، لكنها في العمق، رواية عن الاختلاف، عن الحدود التي نعجز عن عبورها، فيقف كلٌ منا على جهة، مبتسماً وهو يلوّح بمدامعه للآخر، صديقاً كان أم غريباً، عدواً أو حبيباً، ومهما تشابهنا في إنسانيتنا، ومهما تقاربت أرواحنا، سنقف قاب خطوة أو أدنى، من أن تكون لنا حياة طبيعية، كما هو متوقع من جنس البشر.
جوناس، أو يونس، جزائري نشأ وعاش -بحكم الاستعمار- في أوساط فرنسية، كل صداقاته، علاقاته، نزواته، وأحلامه، كانت مرهونة بشكل موقفه من هذا الاستعمار، أصبح في نظر الطرفين خائناً، اضطُر أن يحاذي الحب ويهرع مبتعداً لأجل أصلٍ لم يختره، تخلى عن صداقات شكّلت أغلب ماضيه، وهُجِر من أناس كانوا له حاضره، صراع الهوية في أشرس أشكاله، فهل يُحسن الاختيار في ظل هذا التعقيد؟
الإنسان السوي مهما تتالت عليه المحن، وتكالبت عليه نوائب الزمان، يستحيل ألا يرى الصواب ضمن الأباطيل، لذا مهمته ليست في التفريق بينهما، إنما في الاختيار بين الفعل والسكون، أيهما أعقل في أوانه، أن تحارب لأجل شيء أم تُرخي اللجام؟؟ هذه هي القضية.
- لماذا هذه الابتسامة الساخرة؟
- كي لا أبكي.
بعض الروايات كُتبَت كي نقول بها "مرحباً" و أخرى كي نلوّح عبرها "موّدِعين"، وهذا الرواية كانت لي الاثنين معاً ..
على الهامش:
"قاتل الله الترجمة، فقد أفقدتها الكثير"
August 5, 2018
قد تكون افضل قراءات السنة، سرد معجز تصوير عظيم للزمان والمكان والشخوص، والترجمة سلسلة.
February 20, 2020
Demasiado lento, me aburrí soberanamente leyendole.
Lo que me has más gustado del libro es su título..
Lo que me has más gustado del libro es su título..
April 9, 2014
"Celui qui passe à côté de la plus belle histoire de sa vie n'aura que l'��ge de ses regrets et tous les soupirs du monde ne sauraient bercer son âme."
"Un jour, sans doute, on pourrait rattraper une comète, mais qui vient à laisser filer la vraie chance de sa vie, toutes les gloires de la terre ne sauraient l'en consoler."
"La vie est un train qui ne s'arrête à aucune gare. Ou on le prend en marche ou on le regarde passer sur le quai, et il n'est pire tragédie qu'une gare fantôme."
"Si une femme t'aimait Younes, si une femme t'aimait profondément, et si tu avais la présence d'esprit de mesurer l'étendue de ce privilège, aucune divinité ne t'arriverait à la cheville.."
"On peut tout te prendre; tes biens, tes plus belles années, l'ensemble de tes joies, et l'ensemble de tes mérites, jusqu'à ta dernière chemise
il te restera toujours tes rêves pour réinventer le monde que l'on t'a confisqué."
"Qui sommes-nous au juste ? Ce que nous avons été ou bien ce que nous aurions aimé être ? Le tort que nous avons causé ou bien celui que nous avons subi ? Les rendez-vous que nous avons ratés ou les rencontres fortuites qui ont dévié le cours de notre destin ? Les coulisses qui nous ont préservés de la vanité ou bien les feux de la rampe qui nous ont servi de bûchers ? Nous sommes tout cela en même temps, toute la vie qui a été la nôtre, avec ses hauts et ses bas, ses prouesses et ses vicissitudes ; nous sommes aussi l'ensemble des fantômes qui nous hantent... nous sommes plusieurs personnages en un, si convaincants dans les différents rôles que nous avons assumés qu'il nous est impossible de savoir lequel nous avons été vraiment, lequel nous sommes devenus, lequel nous survivra."
C'est un roman d'Amour, de quête d'identité, d'amitié.. une très belle lecture, extrêmement attachante!
March 5, 2024
c’était magnifique, je me suis beaucoup identifié au personnage de Younes et j’ai beaucoup beaucoup pleuré à la fin, j’aurai besoin de 4 jours ouvrés pour m’en remettre
Merci à toutes les personnes m’ayant recommandé ce livre
Merci à toutes les personnes m’ayant recommandé ce livre
March 4, 2025
kitap boyunca younes'in yaşadığı ikilemler, aşkları ve kayıpları beni çok etkiledi. yanlış zamanlarda gelen doğru insanlar ve sevgimizi ifade edememenin tarifsizliği.. son sayfalar öyle vurucuydu ki, kitabı bitirdiğimde geriye içimde hüzün kaldı.
keşke bazı seçimler farklı olabilseydi, keşke zaman daha merhametli olabilseydi. bazı hikâyeler sadece yaşanır ve biter ancak younes'in hikâyesi öylece bit(e)miyor.
keşke bazı seçimler farklı olabilseydi, keşke zaman daha merhametli olabilseydi. bazı hikâyeler sadece yaşanır ve biter ancak younes'in hikâyesi öylece bit(e)miyor.
July 21, 2020
Through the window, which is open on to the deep blue sky where the moon glitters like a medal, I prepare myself to watch, in slow motion, the parade of my misdeeds, my joys, the familiar faces. I hear them arrive, a thunderous roar like a rockslide. How should I sort them? How should I behave? I am going round in circles on the edge of an abyss, an acrobat on a razor’s edge, a mesmerised volcanologist on the edge of a bubbling crater; I am at the gates of memory, the endless reels of film we all file away, the great dark drawers stocked with the ordinary heroes we once were, the Camusian myths we never could embody, the actors and the roles we played, genius and grotesque, beautiful and monstrous, bowed beneath the weight of our small acts of cowardice, our feats of arms, our lies, our confessions, our oaths and recantations, our gallantry and desertion, our certainties and doubts; in short, our indomitable illusions.
What to keep of all these reels of film, what to throw away? If we could take only one memory on our journey, what would we choose? At the expense of what or whom? And most importantly, how to choose among all these shadows, all these spectres, all these titans? Who are we, when all is said and done? Are we the people we once were or the people we wish we had been? Are we the pain we caused others or the pain we suffered at the hands of others? The encounters we missed or those fortuitous meetings that changed the course of our destiny? Our time behind the scenes that saved us from our vanity or the moment in the limelight that warmed us? We are all of these things, we are the whole life that we have lived, its highs and lows, its fortunes and its hardships; we are the sum of the ghosts that haunt us . . . we are a host of characters in one, so convincing in every role we played that it is impossible for us to tell who we really were, who we have become, who we will be.
I listen to the voices of the past; I am no longer alone. Whispers whirl in these splinters of memory like fragments of a vast sound: cryptic phrases, strangled cries, laughter and sobbing impossible to tell apart... [...] I allow these memories to take possession of my breathing, my insomnia, my whole being. [...] Eyelids are like secret doors; closed they tell us stories, open they look out on to ourselves. We are prisoners of our memories. Our eyes no longer belong to us...
What to keep of all these reels of film, what to throw away? If we could take only one memory on our journey, what would we choose? At the expense of what or whom? And most importantly, how to choose among all these shadows, all these spectres, all these titans? Who are we, when all is said and done? Are we the people we once were or the people we wish we had been? Are we the pain we caused others or the pain we suffered at the hands of others? The encounters we missed or those fortuitous meetings that changed the course of our destiny? Our time behind the scenes that saved us from our vanity or the moment in the limelight that warmed us? We are all of these things, we are the whole life that we have lived, its highs and lows, its fortunes and its hardships; we are the sum of the ghosts that haunt us . . . we are a host of characters in one, so convincing in every role we played that it is impossible for us to tell who we really were, who we have become, who we will be.
I listen to the voices of the past; I am no longer alone. Whispers whirl in these splinters of memory like fragments of a vast sound: cryptic phrases, strangled cries, laughter and sobbing impossible to tell apart... [...] I allow these memories to take possession of my breathing, my insomnia, my whole being. [...] Eyelids are like secret doors; closed they tell us stories, open they look out on to ourselves. We are prisoners of our memories. Our eyes no longer belong to us...
April 24, 2018
Masterful storytelling, coming of age, love story, power of friendship, history... Algeria... A beat of everything... Book not to be missed... #Mustread
Dobar srpski prevod...
Dobar srpski prevod...
November 15, 2022
(review in English below)
A escrita é de alta qualidade, embora algumas palavras me tenham parecido estranhas no contexto em que estavam, o que se deverá certamente à tradução.
Não consigo identificar exactamente a razão, mas perdi algum interesse na história a partir dum determinado ponto e não apreciei tanto a leitura como no início do livro.
De qualquer modo, é uma obra literária muito interessante, tanto pela belíssima escrita como pela história do protagonista e pelas referências históricas sobre a Argélia.
This is high quality writing, altough some words seemed odd in the context they were put in, certainly due to the translation.
I cannot pinpoint exactly why I was less interested in the story after the middle of the book but I didn't enjoy the second half as much as the beginning.
Anyway, it is a very interesting literary work, due not only to the exquisite writing but also to the protagonist's story and the historical references about Algeria.
A escrita é de alta qualidade, embora algumas palavras me tenham parecido estranhas no contexto em que estavam, o que se deverá certamente à tradução.
Não consigo identificar exactamente a razão, mas perdi algum interesse na história a partir dum determinado ponto e não apreciei tanto a leitura como no início do livro.
De qualquer modo, é uma obra literária muito interessante, tanto pela belíssima escrita como pela história do protagonista e pelas referências históricas sobre a Argélia.
This is high quality writing, altough some words seemed odd in the context they were put in, certainly due to the translation.
I cannot pinpoint exactly why I was less interested in the story after the middle of the book but I didn't enjoy the second half as much as the beginning.
Anyway, it is a very interesting literary work, due not only to the exquisite writing but also to the protagonist's story and the historical references about Algeria.
July 18, 2014
Não tinha referências deste autor nem dos seus livros. Foram as opiniões de alguns "colegas" de leituras - que já aprendi a levar em conta - que me convenceram a apostar no livro. Aposta ganha!
E agora chegada ao fim, entendi a dificuldade em falar do livro...
Uma vida contada da infância até à velhice, não é nada de novo, já se leu em 1001 livros. Então onde está a diferença?
Na escrita? Absolutamente! Sentimental e melódica arrebata-nos para dentro da história e esmaga-nos pela força da emoção. Não sendo rebuscada é sublime na sua simplicidade e transporta-nos para um ambiente de cheiros, cores e sentimentos.
Na história? Também. Uma história de vida que começa na infância no "pior fosso de víboras que Deus escavou na terra", que nos leva a crescer com o protagonista, a sofrer com as suas angustias, a vibrar de amor e paixão com ele, a descermos juntos ao Inferno na hora da renuncia e a ficar de coração estilhaçado pelas perdas irreversíveis. Um miúdo que se fez homem em permanente conflito com a sua identidade e sem entender porque haveria de tomar partidos em nome de uma ideologia que o dividia e o obrigava a amputar as amizades de uma vida.
Também o conflito Argelino foi exposto com realismo e sensibilidade e divide-nos. De um lado:
"Havia um povo deitado no chão, sobre o qual se caminhava como se de um relvado se tratasse." e do outro, os colonos, aqueles: "... graças aos seus sacrifícios e à sua fé, que o território bravio se deixou dominar." "...transformaram uma desolação milenar num país magnífico, próspero e ambicioso."
Falta ao homem o discernimento para saber partilhar com humildade a terra deste mundo, ao invés de mergulhar os povos em banhos de sangue e morte.
Porque "a vida é um comboio que não pára em nenhuma estação. Ou o apanhamos em andamento ou o vemos passar..." e "tudo tem um fim, e não há infelicidade que dure para sempre" lê-se como um louvor ao amor - todos os tipos de amor - e à amizade, porque no fim da vida, na hora do balanço, há que saber: "se só houvesse um único instante da nossa vida para levarmos para a nossa grande viagem, qual escolheríamos?"
Seria sacrilégio lê-lo à pressa; merece ser saboreado com calma, lendo e relendo alguns das passagens, vezes e vezes sem conta, tantas quantas forem necessárias para ficarem tatuadas na memória.
E agora chegada ao fim, entendi a dificuldade em falar do livro...
Uma vida contada da infância até à velhice, não é nada de novo, já se leu em 1001 livros. Então onde está a diferença?
Na escrita? Absolutamente! Sentimental e melódica arrebata-nos para dentro da história e esmaga-nos pela força da emoção. Não sendo rebuscada é sublime na sua simplicidade e transporta-nos para um ambiente de cheiros, cores e sentimentos.
Na história? Também. Uma história de vida que começa na infância no "pior fosso de víboras que Deus escavou na terra", que nos leva a crescer com o protagonista, a sofrer com as suas angustias, a vibrar de amor e paixão com ele, a descermos juntos ao Inferno na hora da renuncia e a ficar de coração estilhaçado pelas perdas irreversíveis. Um miúdo que se fez homem em permanente conflito com a sua identidade e sem entender porque haveria de tomar partidos em nome de uma ideologia que o dividia e o obrigava a amputar as amizades de uma vida.
Também o conflito Argelino foi exposto com realismo e sensibilidade e divide-nos. De um lado:
"Havia um povo deitado no chão, sobre o qual se caminhava como se de um relvado se tratasse." e do outro, os colonos, aqueles: "... graças aos seus sacrifícios e à sua fé, que o território bravio se deixou dominar." "...transformaram uma desolação milenar num país magnífico, próspero e ambicioso."
Falta ao homem o discernimento para saber partilhar com humildade a terra deste mundo, ao invés de mergulhar os povos em banhos de sangue e morte.
Porque "a vida é um comboio que não pára em nenhuma estação. Ou o apanhamos em andamento ou o vemos passar..." e "tudo tem um fim, e não há infelicidade que dure para sempre" lê-se como um louvor ao amor - todos os tipos de amor - e à amizade, porque no fim da vida, na hora do balanço, há que saber: "se só houvesse um único instante da nossa vida para levarmos para a nossa grande viagem, qual escolheríamos?"
Seria sacrilégio lê-lo à pressa; merece ser saboreado com calma, lendo e relendo alguns das passagens, vezes e vezes sem conta, tantas quantas forem necessárias para ficarem tatuadas na memória.
December 13, 2018
" الذي يترك فرصة عمره تضيع من بين أصابعه لا تُواسيه جميع أمجاد الأرض."
بلد المليون شهيد الجزائر ، الحقبة الزمنية والمعلومات والتاريخ، شخصيات من الطفولة للشيخوخة مرورا بالمراحل كلها في أماكن مختلفة، الترابط بين الشخصيات نفسه والأحداث، المشاعر.. الحب والصداقة ، الحرية والوطن.
الحرب والتهجير، الخيانة والفراق والحزن، جميع مشاعر الأرض تقريبا اتحدت فيها..
الترجمة وما أدراك ما الترجمة، أكثر من رائعة.
القدرة علي وصف الشعور النفسي بالبراعة دي وفي صفحات كتيرة كاملة وبدون ما يصيبك ذرة ملل.
كمية اقتباسات وجمل تستحق الخلود الأبدي.
في نص الرواية قلت هديها ٤ بالكتير بس غيّرت رأيي بعد الفيلم..
الفيلم قطعة فنية منفصلة بذاتها، لوحده تحفة وبعد الرواية نفسها ملوش وصف.
سعدت بالرفقة دي الفترة اللي فاتت💫.
بلد المليون شهيد الجزائر ، الحقبة الزمنية والمعلومات والتاريخ، شخصيات من الطفولة للشيخوخة مرورا بالمراحل كلها في أماكن مختلفة، الترابط بين الشخصيات نفسه والأحداث، المشاعر.. الحب والصداقة ، الحرية والوطن.
الحرب والتهجير، الخيانة والفراق والحزن، جميع مشاعر الأرض تقريبا اتحدت فيها..
الترجمة وما أدراك ما الترجمة، أكثر من رائعة.
القدرة علي وصف الشعور النفسي بالبراعة دي وفي صفحات كتيرة كاملة وبدون ما يصيبك ذرة ملل.
كمية اقتباسات وجمل تستحق الخلود الأبدي.
في نص الرواية قلت هديها ٤ بالكتير بس غيّرت رأيي بعد الفيلم..
الفيلم قطعة فنية منفصلة بذاتها، لوحده تحفة وبعد الرواية نفسها ملوش وصف.
سعدت بالرفقة دي الفترة اللي فاتت💫.
December 19, 2017
...estou à cerca de uma hora a tentar escrever uma opinião sobre este livro...
Sinto-me incapaz de colocar em palavras as sensações, emoções, ensinamentos que este belíssimo livro me ofereceu.
Deixo apenas uma frase das tantas que me maravilharam:
“Se queres fazer da tua vida um elo de eternidade e manteres-te lúcido até no meio do delírio, ama... Ama com todas as tuas forças, ama como se não soubesses fazer mais nada, ama até causares inveja a príncipes e deuses... porque é no amor que qualquer fealdade ostenta uma beleza própria.”
É um livro de Amor, sim, mas não só...
Sinto-me incapaz de colocar em palavras as sensações, emoções, ensinamentos que este belíssimo livro me ofereceu.
Deixo apenas uma frase das tantas que me maravilharam:
“Se queres fazer da tua vida um elo de eternidade e manteres-te lúcido até no meio do delírio, ama... Ama com todas as tuas forças, ama como se não soubesses fazer mais nada, ama até causares inveja a príncipes e deuses... porque é no amor que qualquer fealdade ostenta uma beleza própria.”
É um livro de Amor, sim, mas não só...
March 30, 2021
“Life is a train that stops at no stations; you either jump abroad or stand on the platform and watch as it passes.”
“For a man to think he can fulfil his destiny without a woman is a misunderstanding, a miscalculation; it is reckless and folly. Certainly a woman is not everthing, but everything depends on her.”
“What to keep of all these reels of film, what to throw away? If we could only take 1 memory on our journey, what would we choose? At the expense of what or whom? And most importantly, how to choose among all these shadows, all these spectres, all these titans? Who are we, when all is said and done? Are we the people we once were or the people we wish we had been? Are we the pain we caused others or the pain we suffered at the hands of others? The encounters we missed or those fortuitous meetings that changed the course of our destiny? Our time behind the scenes that saved us form our vanity or the moment in the limelight that warmed us? We are all of these things, we are the whole life that we have lived, its highs and lows, its fortunes and its hardships, we are the sum of the ghosts that haunt us... we are a host of characters in one, so convincing in every role we played that it is impossible for us to tell who we really were, who we have become, who we will be.”
“Though there are things beyond our understanding, for the most part we are the architects of our own unhappiness.”
“For a man to think he can fulfil his destiny without a woman is a misunderstanding, a miscalculation; it is reckless and folly. Certainly a woman is not everthing, but everything depends on her.”
“What to keep of all these reels of film, what to throw away? If we could only take 1 memory on our journey, what would we choose? At the expense of what or whom? And most importantly, how to choose among all these shadows, all these spectres, all these titans? Who are we, when all is said and done? Are we the people we once were or the people we wish we had been? Are we the pain we caused others or the pain we suffered at the hands of others? The encounters we missed or those fortuitous meetings that changed the course of our destiny? Our time behind the scenes that saved us form our vanity or the moment in the limelight that warmed us? We are all of these things, we are the whole life that we have lived, its highs and lows, its fortunes and its hardships, we are the sum of the ghosts that haunt us... we are a host of characters in one, so convincing in every role we played that it is impossible for us to tell who we really were, who we have become, who we will be.”
“Though there are things beyond our understanding, for the most part we are the architects of our own unhappiness.”
February 22, 2024
j'aurais vraiment vraiment voulu aimé ce livre...
Les 200 premières pages sont intéressantes, la plume est fluide et l'histoire est prenante. Younes est un personnage intriguant, que l'on a hâte de découvrir davantage. Je m'attendais à le voir évoluer dans un contexte de guerre d'Algérie. Je m'attendais à de l'action, de la souffrance, des personnages déchirés, volés, torturés. Je m'attendais à un amour interdit entre Younes et Émilie dû au contexte colonial. Je me suis retrouvée face à un personnage incapable de prendre des décisions, des querelles amoureuses et des ruptures amicales sans importance et une histoire ne menant à rien.
Les ravages de la guerre apparaissent finalement...au dernier chapitre.
Vous l'aurez donc compris, ce livre ne m'a pas emballé. Certains propos sur la religion m'ont même très fortement dérangés.
Je ne lirai probablement pas d'autres livres de cet auteur.
Les 200 premières pages sont intéressantes, la plume est fluide et l'histoire est prenante. Younes est un personnage intriguant, que l'on a hâte de découvrir davantage. Je m'attendais à le voir évoluer dans un contexte de guerre d'Algérie. Je m'attendais à de l'action, de la souffrance, des personnages déchirés, volés, torturés. Je m'attendais à un amour interdit entre Younes et Émilie dû au contexte colonial. Je me suis retrouvée face à un personnage incapable de prendre des décisions, des querelles amoureuses et des ruptures amicales sans importance et une histoire ne menant à rien.
Les ravages de la guerre apparaissent finalement...au dernier chapitre.
Vous l'aurez donc compris, ce livre ne m'a pas emballé. Certains propos sur la religion m'ont même très fortement dérangés.
Je ne lirai probablement pas d'autres livres de cet auteur.
March 2, 2010
I loved this book. Such a great read. You can feel the emotions of the subject throughout. I could not put it down until the last paragraph.
May 13, 2016
Fotograma do filme “O Que o Dia Deve à Noite”, com realização de Alexandre Arcady e com Nora Arnezeder (Émilie) e Fu'ad Aït Aattou (Younes/Jonas)
“O Que o Dia Deve à Noite” do argelino Yasmina Khadra (pseudónimo de Mohamed Moulessehoul) (n. 1955) é um daqueles livros que transcendem e alteram a percepção do leitor sobre a qualidade magistral de uma “história” escrita como uma prosa poética e sentimental, mas que reflecte sem subterfúgios os sentimentos humanos decorrentes dos condicionalismos educacionais e comportamentais das personagens – absolutamente memoráveis.
Nos primeiros capítulos (I - Jenane Jato) são acontecimentos trágicos que vão motivando a alteração do ritmo narrativo e que criam uma empatia de tal forma sufocante com as personagens, que nos “destroem” os sentimentos e nos fazem questionar sobre a importância da vida – do seu amor e das suas tristezas…
Na mudança para Río Salado (Capítulo II) Younes/Jonas reencontra a normalidade emocional, em casa do seu tio Mahi e da tia Germanie, e dá continuidade ao negócio familiar, uma farmácia, que lhe confere autonomia financeira e que lhe permite contribuir “discretamente” para a causa independentista da Argélia.
Nesse período verdadeiramente frenético e mágico encontra os seus amigos Jean Christophe, Simon e Fabrice, que independentemente dos factos ou circunstâncias permanecem e mantêm uma amizade eterna para a vida.
E eis que surge a descoberta do amor – primeiro a “viúva” Cazenave – com uma descrição absolutamente memorável e inesquecível desse encontro mágico - que deixa Younes/Jonas com “a cabeça nas nuvens e os pés num tapete voador.”
E finalmente no III Capítulo – Émilie – com encontros e desencontros de resolução inviável e que revelam um Younes/Jonas dilacerado pelo remorso e pela sua passividade perante as evidências do amor.
O enquadramento histórico da acção – anos 30 – Argélia colonial dominada pela França – e a “narrativa” de Younes/Jonas que “vive” em dois mundos com costumes e tradições antagónicas, que percorre um longo período e que termina em 2008, é brilhante.
O ritmo da narrativa acompanha admiravelmente a evolução das personagens, revelando por vezes uma impossibilidade de mudar a cadência dos acontecimentos e dos sentimentos expressos, com uma componente histórica imprescindível para a evolução e para o relacionamento dos intervenientes.
“O Que o Dia Deve à Noite” é uma fascinante reflexão poética, tristemente bela e comovente, num texto admirável que fala da amizade e do amor eterno…
January 15, 2014
Les mots m'échappent à chaque fois que j'essaye de décrire ce live. Cependant, j'ai pu trouver trois mots qui peuvent le décrire: IL EST FASCINANT!
December 2, 2011
Thinking about it, what I am going to write is not a review. It is just what I felt reading the book.
It is 4:52. I couldn’t stop reading till the last page.
I have never been found of history classes. I always hated dates. I understood history involvement in future, but never got over the idea of talking about famous people who were clearly a “nobody” to me. Let’s just say people I only knew their names, their faces, what they did in history, but I never felt related to any. I have always been proud of my county and my history, it’s only the fact that history was remote not in matters of time only but in characters and even events that I didn’t really bother to know.
Is it a love story told through the history of a country or the history of a country told through a love story? I don’t know and I don’t really care. All I care about is that I’ll be reading lot of historical fiction because I found out that they tell the naked truth better than history classes.
After reading, so many happy endings of Paulo Coelho, they ways this book ends just fascinates me and throws me back to real life ;).
I love it.
October 18, 2024
Well… wow…
This book is single-handedly the most beautifully written book I have read in my life.
Thank you Myriam for introducing me to such a wonderful piece of art, and to a world of literature that I ignored for too long. It started a little fire in me. Cannot wait to read more classic pieces.
This book is single-handedly the most beautifully written book I have read in my life.
Thank you Myriam for introducing me to such a wonderful piece of art, and to a world of literature that I ignored for too long. It started a little fire in me. Cannot wait to read more classic pieces.
May 14, 2017
4,5 rounded up to 5 because I so needed to read a book like this. A story with big s. This was an exceptionally touching one and full of heart. A traditional novel set in colonial Alger, love story and coming-of-age about choices we made in life: love or promise? love or friendship? inherited or gained?
Yasmina Khadra (pseudonym for Mohammed Moulessehoul) is a writer of great talent and soft touch. In short, storytelling at its best.
Yasmina Khadra (pseudonym for Mohammed Moulessehoul) is a writer of great talent and soft touch. In short, storytelling at its best.
February 2, 2017
"Celui qui passe à côté de la plus belle histoire de sa vie n'aura que l'âge de ses regrets et tous les soupirs du monde ne sauraient bercer son âme."
"La vie est un train qui ne s'arrête à aucune gare. Ou on le prend en marche ou on le regarde passer sur le quai, et il n'est pire tragédie qu'une gare fantôme."
__________
Il m'est très difficile de parler de ce livre.
Ce que le jour doit à la nuit c'est le roman sur l'amour d'un pays, amours tumultueuses, violentes, meurtrières, charnelles, sanguines, nostalgiques.
Un roman sur la complexité des relations entre les êtres humains de cultures différentes.
"La vie est un train qui ne s'arrête à aucune gare. Ou on le prend en marche ou on le regarde passer sur le quai, et il n'est pire tragédie qu'une gare fantôme."
__________
Il m'est très difficile de parler de ce livre.
Ce que le jour doit à la nuit c'est le roman sur l'amour d'un pays, amours tumultueuses, violentes, meurtrières, charnelles, sanguines, nostalgiques.
Un roman sur la complexité des relations entre les êtres humains de cultures différentes.
April 22, 2021
** 4,5 estrelas**
"O TEMPO PARARA PARA NÓS. É certo que o dia continuava a fugir da noite, que a tarde se seguia à aurora, que as aves de rapina revolteavam no céu, mas, para nós, era como se as coisas tivessem chegado ao fim. Abria-se uma nova página e não figurávamos nela.” pág. 16
Uma escrita primorosa, poética, triste, incomum.
Palavras recheadas de mel ou de fel, de cor ou de negrume, de cheiros inspiradores ou nauseabundos, de profundos e profusos sentimentos.
Younes ou Jonas? Sempre ou nunca Younes?
“Tinha sido tolerado, integrado, domesticado? Que me impedia de ser plenamente EU, de encarnar o mundo no qual me mexia, de me identificar com ele quando virava as costas aos MEUS? Uma sombra. Eu era uma sombra, indecisa e susceptível (…) interrogava-me se não continuaria a mentir a mim próprio, a fugir às minhas responsabilidades empurrando-as para os outros?(…) Feitas as contas, o meu erro residia em não ter assumido corajosamente as minhas convicções. Podia encontrar todas as desculpas do mundo que nenhuma me daria razão. Na realidade, agora que perdera a dignidade, procurava uma máscara.” pág. 240
Émilie! Uma história de amor condenada à nascença, que poderia ter sido e não foi: ”porque aquilo que não começara realmente tinha mesmo acabado”. E porque não? Porquê tanta obstinação em mergulhar no infortúnio?
“Não se muda o que foi escrito… Balelas!... Mais tarde, muito mais tarde, haveria de chegar a esta verdade: NADA ESTÁ ESCRITO. (…) É evidente que há coisas que nos ultrapassam, mas, na maior parte dos casos, continuamos a ser os principais artífices das nossas infelicidades. Os nossos erros, somos nós que os fabricamos com as nossas mãos…” pág. 237
Amor!
De pais, de filhos, de parentes, de amigos, de homem e mulher. Amor para a vida toda!
E a guerra!
A sensibilidade e inteligência em mostrar os dois lados do conflito Argelino.
”A Argélia argelina nascia a ferros numa enxurrada de lágrimas e sangue; a Argélia francesa morria em sangrias torrenciais. E as duas, retalhadas por sete anos de guerra e de horror, embora completamente esgotadas, ainda arranjavam forças para se dilacerarem uma à outra como nunca.” pág. 302
Saboreamos a simplicidade e beleza do texto ao mesmo tempo que somos levados, invariavelmente, a reflectir.
“- É verdade que os Árabes são preguiçosos?
(…)
- Não somos preguiçosos. Limitamo-nos a aproveitar o tempo para viver. O que não é o caso dos Ocidentais. Para eles, o tempo é dinheiro. Para nós, o tempo não tem preço. Basta-nos um copo de chá para sermos felizes, ao passo que, para eles, não há felicidade que baste. A diferença está toda aí, meu rapaz.” Pág. 80
"O TEMPO PARARA PARA NÓS. É certo que o dia continuava a fugir da noite, que a tarde se seguia à aurora, que as aves de rapina revolteavam no céu, mas, para nós, era como se as coisas tivessem chegado ao fim. Abria-se uma nova página e não figurávamos nela.” pág. 16
Uma escrita primorosa, poética, triste, incomum.
Palavras recheadas de mel ou de fel, de cor ou de negrume, de cheiros inspiradores ou nauseabundos, de profundos e profusos sentimentos.
Younes ou Jonas? Sempre ou nunca Younes?
“Tinha sido tolerado, integrado, domesticado? Que me impedia de ser plenamente EU, de encarnar o mundo no qual me mexia, de me identificar com ele quando virava as costas aos MEUS? Uma sombra. Eu era uma sombra, indecisa e susceptível (…) interrogava-me se não continuaria a mentir a mim próprio, a fugir às minhas responsabilidades empurrando-as para os outros?(…) Feitas as contas, o meu erro residia em não ter assumido corajosamente as minhas convicções. Podia encontrar todas as desculpas do mundo que nenhuma me daria razão. Na realidade, agora que perdera a dignidade, procurava uma máscara.” pág. 240
Émilie! Uma história de amor condenada à nascença, que poderia ter sido e não foi: ”porque aquilo que não começara realmente tinha mesmo acabado”. E porque não? Porquê tanta obstinação em mergulhar no infortúnio?
“Não se muda o que foi escrito… Balelas!... Mais tarde, muito mais tarde, haveria de chegar a esta verdade: NADA ESTÁ ESCRITO. (…) É evidente que há coisas que nos ultrapassam, mas, na maior parte dos casos, continuamos a ser os principais artífices das nossas infelicidades. Os nossos erros, somos nós que os fabricamos com as nossas mãos…” pág. 237
Amor!
De pais, de filhos, de parentes, de amigos, de homem e mulher. Amor para a vida toda!
E a guerra!
A sensibilidade e inteligência em mostrar os dois lados do conflito Argelino.
”A Argélia argelina nascia a ferros numa enxurrada de lágrimas e sangue; a Argélia francesa morria em sangrias torrenciais. E as duas, retalhadas por sete anos de guerra e de horror, embora completamente esgotadas, ainda arranjavam forças para se dilacerarem uma à outra como nunca.” pág. 302
Saboreamos a simplicidade e beleza do texto ao mesmo tempo que somos levados, invariavelmente, a reflectir.
“- É verdade que os Árabes são preguiçosos?
(…)
- Não somos preguiçosos. Limitamo-nos a aproveitar o tempo para viver. O que não é o caso dos Ocidentais. Para eles, o tempo é dinheiro. Para nós, o tempo não tem preço. Basta-nos um copo de chá para sermos felizes, ao passo que, para eles, não há felicidade que baste. A diferença está toda aí, meu rapaz.” Pág. 80
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