Thanks to France's 132-year colonization of Algeria, the two countries are thoroughly intertwined — a relationship Adimi explores with nuance and determination in her third novel, Our Riches, newly translated by the excellent Chris Andrews. Moving adeptly from colonized Algiers to the present day, and from a beloved bookstore's birth to its near-death, Adimi at once offers a love letter to literary culture, Algerian independence and the city of Algiers ... Adimi braids her plotlines together deftly, never lingering long before moving on. This approach could seem hurried or superficial, but here, it works beautifully ... In her collective sections, Adimi writes capital-H History with real force. Her description of French police brutally repressing a pro-independence protest in 1961 is gut-wrenching ... This is rightfully harsh writing, but Our Riches is not always a harsh book. Often it's sunny, sometimes downright seductive ... quick, masterful tonal switches ... Even when writing in her most historical mode, she slides easily between emotions and perspectives ... Always, Adimi prioritizes the emotional account over the factual, devoting more time and writerly care to small-h history than to the capital-H kind ... is, above all, a loving book ... This kind of thorough, patient description always expresses commitment. In Our Riches, it feels like devotion — to Algeria, and to the world of literature.
Our Riches consists of two vibrant and closely knit stories across tempestuous generations, and Adimi’s writing creates an agile prose which, in translation, provides a faithful voice to characters who are losing their bearings in uncertain times ... The story is captivating, and if you take a look at the decades in which the story is set, you might notice that the geopolitical turmoil is cleverly portrayed in the different uses of the first-person plural pronoun, we. In the exposition, the reader is gradually welcomed into everything Algiers has to offer, including its most tragic history ... Adimi’s tribute to Charlot’s work is truly poignant, and it shows the power of books in people’s lifelong journey. And, such as Ryad who keeps encountering Charlot’s portrait while he empties the shelves, the reader might also end up feeling closely observed.
The writing loses direction at times; characters appear who were never introduced, along with details that are unnecessary and uninteresting. Yet the truly potent effect of the book is that by taking on literary history from the underbelly of the French nation — from the colony just across the sea — Adimi confronts us with episodes that are simply never spoken of in France: the grand celebration of the end of World War II, in May 1945, which, in Algeria, turned into a massacre by the colonial administration; another massacre, this time in Paris, in 1961, of Algerian protesters, who were thrown into the Seine by French police officers ... It is in unhappy nations, we are meant to understand, that history is a relentless companion.
All along, the Algerian struggle against the French loom over much of what happens -- and then more recent domestic struggles. It's quite effectively presented and tied into the narratives ... Charlot was an important figure in French literature, and of course it is difficult to present all that he did in such a small space; Adimi does bring in a great deal -- but in doing so in this way (mainly through purported notebook-jottings) the account feels almost like a quick summary list. Those parts narrated by the omniscient group-we are a bigger sort of summing-up -- effective as such, and a useful complement to the other sections, but also somewhat limited. The sections focused on Ryad and Abdallah are more expansive -- though also touching on their lives beyond this brief episode -- and are a decent counterpart to the others ... does convey a sense of what was attempted and what was lost, or never achieved, but the subject matters -- Charlot's work as well as Algeria itself -- and their stories are so pared down that it's hard not to feel a great deal is missing. Adimi gives a sense of the scale of these, and many of the lives affected, but when even a Camus figures as barely more than an incidental character it's hard not to think that (too) much is missing. Readers can fill much in, as the text does provide lots of keywords, people, and moments that readers can free-associate from, and as such it forms a good sort of foundation, but all in all it still feels rather thin.
... in this engaging and place-rich book, it is Adimi’s project to marry the sensuality and the intellect that young Camus fretted over, and to show that there are as many ways to be a bibliophile as to be a sensualist ... This voice of the urban guide bookends the work, maintaining the tension between what is to be absorbed carefully, and what is to be consumed quickly ... Though the book is carefully researched from what remains of Charlot’s papers, the research never feels heavy or academic.
In fewer than 150 pages, Our Riches reminds readers of the printed word’s ability to impart new ideas and shape public opinion. And the book shares an appreciation for the artistry within the publishing industry, whether it be the discovery of an emerging writer or the decision to prioritize beautiful bindings in the midst of wartime rationing ... Readers looking for a remarkable plot twist aren’t going to find one. Adimi is focused on the deep ties that multiple generations of neighborhood families have with Charlot’s bookstore. Throughout all time, of course, books and the spaces that support them have fostered community. Charlot knew that. Decades later, the people of his neighborhood still know that.
An understated, lyrical story of reading and resistance over the tumultuous generations ... Populated by the ordinary citizens of Algiers and such figures from French literary history as Robert Aron and Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Adimi’s gently spun story takes an ominous turn as it nears its end, when the secret police turn up with increasing frequency, their 'mustaches, sunglasses, dark suits' the uniform of the enemies of literature ... A lovely book about books—and freedom.
Adimi’s illuminating English-language debut unearths a legendary Algerian lending library and bookstore in parallel narratives ... Adimi’s confident prose displays Ryad and Charlot’s emotional depth while nimbly shuttling the reader through nearly a century of history. This is a moving tribute to the enduring power of literature.
