Book review - novel by Lynda Chouiten

 Lynda Chouiten (2024) Les blattes orgueilleuses. Casbah-Éditions: Algiers.                

Since leaving my lecturing post to take up writing full-time on Tuesday 11th January 2022, the way I approach novels has become very different. I notice structure. André Gide's short novel, Paludes, was the first in which I noticed that the author had structured the novel into sections, first around the names of his characters, for example, Hubert, Angèle, and then as if keeping a diary or journal using the days of the week. But he starts his first scene on Tuesday. This missed Monday was the catalyst for my commissioned meta-fiction from the Millbay writer's residency. Lynda Chouiten, in her Les blattes orgueilleuses, uses structure, too, to build a huge matrix on which her story unfolds. She divides the novel into two major parts, first to present the profiles of her characters and then a second part to explore their relationship to the popular and peaceful protests in Algerian cities in 2019 and on into early 2020. 

Short, Single Character Chapters

The short chapters are headed with the names of the players in her story; they are university lecturers, a writer and students. By giving voice to each one in turn, Nora Bordji, Akli Signa, Rosa Dey, Ahmed Berras, the author treats us to a mature, sophisticated and skilful characterisation. The monologue chapters give each of them time to recount incidents and feelings that have formed their sensibilities. Further depth is achieved by replaying the same dialogue from a different player's point of view; a powerful example of this replaying is around the Tuesday lunches of Akli and Nora.     

Flashback to a Certain Monday

A flashback to a certain Monday provides useful background for readers who have not followed Algeria's recent history. Monday 17th January 1994 is remembered by Akli as the day he attended a protest march on his thirteenth birthday, to have Tamazight languages taught in schools. Mixing the languages, Akli's aunt calls this « une marche yef tmeslayt », and it is in this chapter (p.46 et seqq.) that you as the reader begin to feel close to Akli. It is brilliantly written in character, and eventually breaks down the fourth wall. Something that Gide does in Les Faux-Monnayeurs; it is a writing practice that is both exciting but also sometimes difficult to contain. But Les blattes does contain this break seamlessly, progressing to a much more intimate relationship with the reader.  

We accept these lecturers and find empathy with their critique of higher education, which echoes the feelings of many across Europe and the US, in that idiosyncrasies and intellectual aspirations have been purged to create a staff that has an administrative function rather than an inspirational and educational role. 

Les blattes

I enjoy Les blattes, too, not just for the language and the structure but for the names of those little towns, ces patelins, and the cities, which I try to find on Google Maps, and imagine again Africa's largest country and wonder if I will ever see its mountains, and its busy streets. Or hear the songs of Lounis Aït Menguellet one evening in some café as we enjoy date-paste Makroud and sip mint tea.

Charles Mansfield Saturday 17 January 2026 

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