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Algerian-French writer Kaouther Adimi. His entire archive was twice destroyed by the French colonial forces, but despite financial difficulties he was hopelessly generous and the vicissitudes of wars and revolutions, Charlot often compared to the legendary bookseller Sylvia Beach carried forward Les Vraies Richesses as a cultural hub of Algiers. Born in in Algiers, Kaouther Adimi lives in Paris.
You will come out onto Didouche Mourad — so many alleyways off to each side, like hundreds of intersecting stories — a few steps away from a bridge that is favored by suicides and lovers alike. A novel published by New Directions by Kaouther Adimi.
Their contours are blurred by the blinding sun and the almost white blue of the sky. You will see children climbing onto the plinth of the statue of Emir Abdelkader, smiling broadly, posing for their parents, who will waste no time in posting the photos on social media. A man will be smoking and reading a newspaper in a doorway. You will have to greet him and exchange a few pleasantries before turning back, but not before glancing off to the side: the silver sea sparkling, the cries of the gulls, and always that blue, almost white.
You will be alone; you have to be alone to get lost and see everything. There are some cities, and this is one, where any kind of company is a burden. You wander here as if among thoughts, hands in your pockets, a twinge in your heart. You will climb the streets, push open heavy wooden doors that are never locked, touch the marks left on the walls by bullets that cut down unionists, artists, soldiers, teachers, anonymous passers-by, and children.
