La vie lente by Abdellah Taïa

Abstract

Reviewed by: La vie lente by Abdellah Taïa Walter S. Temple Taïa, Abdellah. La vie lente. Seuil, 2019. ISBN 978-2-02-142183-5. Pp. 267. Scenes of intercultural exchange, particularly in contemporary "French" contexts, provide us with an opportunity to question the human condition in a society of contradictions. Taïa's oeuvre can be qualified in part as an outsider narrative, and his latest novel propels us further into the complex realities of the immigrant's plight. Divided into nine sections, La vie lente presents as a journey of passion, racial inequality, and political overture. We recall that an interwoven and overarching motif in the writer's work is the tension that resides at the divide between the north and south. Such tensions, as the author suggests, are often exacerbated when issues of sexuality, belonging, and social norms complicate the character's search for self. The writer echoes the poetics of his earlier writings by returning to these thematics. He also reminds readers of the vulnerabilities that are synonymous with transcultural engagement. In the wake of the 2015 terrorist attacks in Paris, the French capital experienced a new wave of anxiety, "les gens en France n'étaient plus les mêmes" (18). What is particularly sobering to examine throughout this novel in this regard is the relationship between Mounir, a Moroccan immigrant, and Madame Marty, an aged pauvre française, who also suffers from the perils of life at the margins, despite her presumed superiority. The racial tensions that continue to characterize Taïa's France are established in the first chapter through the voice of the older French woman. Speaking to Mounir, who occupies the apartment below hers on the rue de Turenne, she asserts: "J'ai peur de toi. Tu es arabe, j'ai peur de toi" (17). Yet the Parisian-Moroccan attributes the octogenarian's anxiety to the recent attacks, refusing to believe that she could be a blatant racist. Both Mounir and Madame Marty fall victim to the cultural milieu they inhabit. The links among the various characters become increasingly apparent as we locate what is, for the author, a shared social condition. In a curious parallel to Taïa's debut novel, L'armée du salut (2009), the reader discovers that Manon, the older sister of Madame Marty, was forced to sell her body during the Second World War. Such portraiture recalls an earlier (and younger) "Abdellah" in which the traveler also appears to use his body as a means of survival. Further yet, the implied freedoms associated with France continue to resound in Taïa's imaginary and are embodied here in the character of Majdouline, Mounir's cousin who dreams of a different kind of life, "Je veux que tu m'aides à échapper au piège du mariage, au piège de la liberté" (225). La vie lente poses as a mechanism that permits the writer to escape the egregious silence that haunts these characters. The eighth section, titled "Fin (1)," opens with a somber [End Page 214] and revealing tonality, "Tu veux vivre? Ne reviens pas au silence" (243). The hysteria that qualifies Mounir's existence is perhaps remedied through the confrontation of what is for Taïa a series of unknown truths. This text is therefore a veritable roman de la rupture. Walter S. Temple Utah Valley University Copyright © 2020 American Association of Teachers of French