Writers' Festival: Assia Djebar and the esprit of contradiction

Novelist, filmmaker and academic pioneer Assia Djebar (Djebar is a nom de plume; her given name is Fatima-Zohra Imalayen) is often described as a feminist and a representative voice of Algerian women, but when asked if she accepts the labels so often applied to her, she's adamant: "I am not a feminist."

"I am myself," she explains. "I don't like 'ists.' I am not a member of any party or group."

Asked what philosophy, if any, she does subscribe to, she describes herself as possessed by "the spirit of contradiction."

Her oppositional stance dates back at least as far as her participation at the age of 20 in Algerian student strikes supporting the struggle for independence from France (a cause for which her brother was jailed and her mother's home was raided by French soldiers).

A regular nominee for the Nobel Prize for Literature, Djebar has achieved worldwide renown and recognition with novels like The Thirst, Fantasia: An Algerian Cavalcade, A Sister to Scheherazade, So Vast a Prison, Algerian White and Women of Algiers in Their Apartment.

Djebar's most recent work, Nowhere in the House of My Father (Fayard, 2007), revisits long-repressed memories of an adolescence marked by pain but also "the first whispers in dormitories with French girlfriends," "small transgressions" and "bodily drunkenness." As with much of her work, she examines the complexities of life for women in the Muslim world and their struggle for equality and emancipation.

As a student, Djebar was the first Algerian woman accepted into the elite École Normale Supérieure (and later the first North African writer to be elected to the Académie Francaise), but such distinctions are apparently unimportant to her.

"There are more interesting things than being the first woman to do something," she insists.

Speaking about education (Djebar currently teaches Francophone literature at New York University), she exhibits a certain ennui, describing her various migrations between Paris and the United States as occasional flights from locations her heart just wasn't in. At least for the time being, educating the young comes at a high price, as scheduling demands interfere with her literary output.

"I can teach, or I can write," she says. "But I can't do both."

She describes her approach to teaching as having less to do with achieving a definitive grasp of any given genre or canon and more to do with developing a "subtle" and "refined" literary sensibility.

Equally independent in her personal and professional life, the twice-married writer cedes a preference for living alone.

"I am a writer," she points out, "so I invent. They [husbands] don't like it when you invent. They like it when you follow."

It's difficult to imagine Djebar following anyone.

In the lobby of Hotel Josef, prior to her departure from Prague June 11, the author appeared disinterested in discussing the particulars of this, her first visit to the city and her participation in this year's festival. But such reticence is part of her persona.

"Silence is protest," she proclaimed, reasserting a lack of association with political labels. "Sometimes I say 'no' to everything. Sometimes I don't say anything."

Whether speaking or silent, Djebar gives special meaning to the term "post-feminist." In a day and age when the goal of many forward-thinkers is to transcend race and gender rather than champion or defend them, Djebar is a case study in the myriad ways such sentiments can translate into daily life.

James Walling can be reached at
jwalling@praguepost.com