L’Amande is a book that is simply asks to be attacked: for being too explicit; for being not erotic enough for an erotic novel; for being a story of a sexually liberated Muslim woman, written by the sexually liberated Muslim woman. For not stopping the protagonist at “just” sexual liberation but liberating her — o horror — from dependence on men altogether. Nedjma meant to épater and succeeded at that. Yet, inside the shell, L’Amande hides a story of true love.
Any reservations? Reviewing L’Amande in The Independent, Victoria James said:
The writing is bold and ornate and probably sounded a whole lot better in French.
Yes, yes, and I do hope so.
The Arab woman is three quarters Berber and despises those who think she’s good only for emptying chamber pots. I, too, watch television and could have been a Stephen Hawking if they had told me about quantum physics early on. Or given a concert in Cologne like Keith Jarrett, whom I just discovered. I might even have been a painter and exhibited at the Metropolitan Museum in New York. For I, too, am stardust. |
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