Early in her remarkable ‘histoire populaire’ of the advent of Algerian independence, Malika Rahal, Director of the Institut d’histoire du temps présent, twice cites Benjamin Stora. As the pre-eminent scholar of the conflict, Stora appears in his expert capacity, but also as a witness to the lived experience of a revolutionary moment. The eleven-year-old Jewish boy who left Constantine with his family in June 1962 takes his place among the exiled pieds-noirs, in counterpoint to myriad ‘indigenous’ Algerian voices, as Rahal weaves a complex narrative that throughout exemplifies the writer’s commitment to letting the subaltern speak. Wide-ranging, frequently moving, and — inevitably — at times disturbing, these collectively inspirational testimonies reveal the fine grain of profound societal change. As Rahal’s incisive study makes clear, this process was not only practical and organizational, but also conceptual and symbolic. Her historical assemblage mobilizes interviews conducted in Arabic and French, underpinned by extensive archival research and related primary documentation. The investigation also draws upon prominent scholarship in the field, notably that of Natalya Vince in her own pioneering oral history of female nationalist combatants (Our Fighting Sisters: Nation, Memory and Gender in Algeria, 1954–2012 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2015)). Rahal thus offers an intricate and engrossing chronicle of a pivotal year, her structuring chronology punctuated by three key events: the ceasefire instituted by the Accords d’Évian (19 March); the national celebration of Algerian independence (5 July); and the proclamation of the Algerian Republic (25 September). This essential contextualization allows the author to develop a detailed case study in each of her twenty-two substantive chapters. The resulting analyses are as individually absorbing as they are cumulatively compelling, so allowing 1962 to emerge as a political and cultural totality: simultaneously event and effervescence, empowerment and performance, things falling apart while others coalesce in modes ranging from the patriotically heroic to the festively euphoric. Rahal maintains the coherence of this ambitious project by dividing her findings into four thematic sections: ‘Violences’, ‘Corps’, ‘Espaces’, ‘Le Temps’. These broad headings provide an appropriately inclusive space for her compendium of telling tales, as male and female, young and old, urban and rural, arabophone and francophone contributors find a space in which to articulate their imbricated stories of this year of revolution(s). ‘Le long 1962’, as scrutinized by Rahal, is a crux in the fullest sense: a touchstone to Algeria’s past, present, and future, in which the all-too-evident threats — military, diplomatic, economic — are counterbalanced by hitherto unimaginable social opportunities. Rahal charts this post-conflict reordering in spheres as diverse as medicine and agriculture, education and housing, political infighting and trade union organization. Elsewhere, she targets demobilization, returns from exile and liberation from captivity, reunions for some and the often drawn-out confirmation of loss for others. Through this close reading of a momentous year, Rahal makes a substantial contribution to our understanding of the transition from colonial rule to Algerian sovereignty and thereby to the broader histories of France in Algeria and Algeria since independence. Her monograph is essential reading in our own times and is likely to remain indispensable for future scholars.