La Paria (Claude Kayat, 2019)

Some writers fall in love with the French language to the point that they make it their primary language of expression. It happened to fêted dramatist Samuel Beckett, and later also to Czech existentialist Milan Kundera. Both Beckett and Kundera moved to France. Claude Kayat is a unique writer in that he writes award-winning novels in French, even though he never lived in France. He learned French as a boy in Tunisia (then a French protectorate) and maintained his love affair with the language all his life. He has lived in Sweden since 1958 and has written 9 books, this being the latest.

La Paria is the story of two lovers, but also the story of people, of getting along, of enmity and strife. The inevitable comparison here is Romeo & Juliet, and la Paria really does feel Shakespearean in tone at times. In Tiberias, northern Israel, a young boy and a young girl notice each other on a plantation. The boy, Yoram, is the son of the owner, and the girl, Fatima, is employed to pick the fruit. Yoram is blonde and Jewish, Fatima is dark-haired and Bedouin. They start to meet clandestinely at late hours and fall in love, much to the disapproval of their respective families. A big confrontation amounts and this leaves Fatima with the choice of what to do with her life… and how to foster the coming generation.

The book deals with how difficult it is to be alive and to live up to familial duties and follow one’s own heart. It is also about going against societal pressures, and respecting tradition, and standing up for one’s views and thoughts. It was an affecting read for me, as I think these questions are more important than ever in today’s mixed and globalised world. What started out as kind of a soap-opera set-up transcended its own structure and managed to really say something profound about humanity. The genius conceit of having the fruit of the lovers’ dalliance become a plot point was a master stroke, a classic Kayat touch. Some of the themes of this book might remind the attentive reader of earlier Kayat novels, like his Prix Afrique Meditérannéenne award-winning debut novel Mohammed Cohen (about a boy growing up navigating identity issues, having a Jewish father and an Arab mother, feeling fully part of both traditions). It also puts one’s mind to his later “Les cyprès de Tiberiade” which is based on his own experiences living in Israel in the mid-1950’s.

He even gets to squeeze in a little of his own Tunisian heritage in the character of Bar-Gil, a Tunisian-Jewish police investigator. One of the joys of Kayat’s writing is his effortless blending of genres, which really comes of a nothing short of virtuositic. The narrative is sometimes comic, sometimes dark, sometimes it nears being a detective novel and towards the end it veers into bildungsroman territory.

The virtuoso prose is also very poignant, such effervescence and fluidity! It is impressive to be able to have such an effortless command of the French language after over 50 years in the Nordic darkness of Stockholm. Unfortunately, it is as yet only available in French, but I would urge translators and publishers to spread this book outside of the francophonic sphere, it is really quite the gem.

three other books on the theme of Jewish-Arab love:

Waguih Ghali – Beer in the Snooker Club (1964)
Dorit Rabinyan – All the Rivers (2014)
Kamal Ruhayyim – Menorahs and Minarets (2017)

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