A review by atlantisblauw
All Men Want to Know by Nina Bouraoui
2.0
I was looking forward to this. I love France, I wrestled with my sexual preferences, I'm interested in identity. Unfortunately, I was disappointed.
I liked the opening sentence: "I wonder who in this crowd is newly in love, who has just been left and who has walked out without a word, who is happy and who sad, who is fearful and who forging confidently ahead, who is hoping for a brighter future." Not a bad start. Sounds like anything could happen, like the main character is open to new experiences, aware of her surroundings, connected to the world or at least looking for a connection.
Alas! The rest of the book continues with this type of prose that is completely devoid of emotion. The chapters are nothing more than snapshots, jumping from 1972 to 1982 and from Paris to Algiers and back. We're only in the mind of the narrator, who doesn't seem to talk to a lot of people and likes even less people. The only one she writes about with affection is her mother. She doesn't seem to have a personality other than being ashamed of her sexuality and there's no character development to speak of.
The only thing I found interesting didn't have much to do with the book as a work of art. The main character is afraid of contracting AIDS from women, doesn't even want to touch the razor blade of a woman she's seeing out of fear. For us (in this part of the world), now, it's so easy to get tested and we have a lot of knowledge about how you get HIV. It made me remember that for a long time, it was actually really scary.
Anyway, don't waste your precious time on this book.
I liked the opening sentence: "I wonder who in this crowd is newly in love, who has just been left and who has walked out without a word, who is happy and who sad, who is fearful and who forging confidently ahead, who is hoping for a brighter future." Not a bad start. Sounds like anything could happen, like the main character is open to new experiences, aware of her surroundings, connected to the world or at least looking for a connection.
Alas! The rest of the book continues with this type of prose that is completely devoid of emotion. The chapters are nothing more than snapshots, jumping from 1972 to 1982 and from Paris to Algiers and back. We're only in the mind of the narrator, who doesn't seem to talk to a lot of people and likes even less people. The only one she writes about with affection is her mother. She doesn't seem to have a personality other than being ashamed of her sexuality and there's no character development to speak of.
The only thing I found interesting didn't have much to do with the book as a work of art. The main character is afraid of contracting AIDS from women, doesn't even want to touch the razor blade of a woman she's seeing out of fear. For us (in this part of the world), now, it's so easy to get tested and we have a lot of knowledge about how you get HIV. It made me remember that for a long time, it was actually really scary.
Anyway, don't waste your precious time on this book.