Jean Hatzfeld for Le Monde des Livres, April 15  2016
Les Portes du néant, à la frontière turque, s’ouvrent une première fois sur la route qui mène à la région d’Idlib, dans le nord-ouest de la Syrie. Samar Yazbek les franchit en août 2012, en se faufilant dans un trou creusé sous des barbelés. Une voiture l’attend, qui traverse la nuit sur un fond sonore de bombardements, avec à l’intérieur Maysara et Mohammed, deux frères d’armes rebelles : ses anges gardiens.

A review by Eglal Errera, for Le Monde des livres, published Firday 16th of October, 2015.
Photo credit: La Croix.

A comforting feeling of time and space. Where does this feeling come from in Lebanese writer Jabbour Douaihy’s American neighborhood? When one knows that this story takes place in today’s Lebanon, a short distance away from the Syrian border, in the city of Tripoli that is particularly exposed to the horrors of the killings in the neighboring hills, and shaken by incessant communal clashes, that peaceful feeling is almost shocking.

This is an excerpt of an article by Laure Stephan, for le Monde des Livres, Published June 18th, 2015
They often talk about their books in France, whether written in French or translated from the Arabic. Some have studied in France or lived here during their years of exile in the time of war (1975-1990). But their moorings are in Beirut, or in any case not far from the city on this side of the Mediterranean and its magical light. Beirut is the place of childhood memories or years of youth, long-term stays or torn …

This review by Catherine Simon, was published by Le Monde des Livres, on January 22, 2015. Below are a few excerpts in English.
Both melancholic and hilarious, this story (…) sheds a critical, often fierce, light on the Saudi society and its offspring (…)

This article by Catherine Simon, was published in French, by Le Monde des Livres
September 2012
What follows is an approximate translation into English.
 
A historical novel, then? A parody rather. The stories told here are full of errors, as childhood memories and village gossip usually are. This is one of the strokes of genius of this kaleidoscopic book, an almost ethnological dive of a writer among her people: everything is truthful, nothing is quite true. It was nice to come across the shadows of Mussolini and Petain, President Chamoun or that of General …

he president is not the young man who was said to have modern and reformist tendencies, but a dictator like the others, unable to understand what was happening in front his eyes, ready to kill half of his people to remain in power, thinking he is the only one to have the right to decide what reforms the country needs and when to grant them to his subjects as a reward.