Het boek bestaat uit monologen van de oudere broer, Broer, en de jongere broer, Broertje. Zij zijn kinderen van een Syrische vluchteling en een Bretonse, jong overleden, moeder; vader en broer wonen apart in Parijs, broertje is elders. Vader is een ouderwetse, niet erg gelovige socialistische taxichauffeur (hoewel hij daarvoor te hoog was opgeleid) vakbondslid; broer is na een mislukte leger carrière in Afrika een moderne Uber-chauffeur, schooluitval, veel te hard werken voor Uber, veel joiints, na een verleden als drugscrimineel nu politieinformant. Broertje was verpleger in Parijs en leerde zo’n beetje in de praktijk het vak van arts. Toen kreeg hij steeds meer contact met de moskee en op een dag verdween hij. Veel recensenten doen of dit boek een pamflet is of een documentaire over het leven van tweede generatie migranten in een achterstandswijk, die lezer nu eindelijk eens het leven in Frankrijk vanuit allochtoon perspectief laat zien. Daarmee bedoelen zij dan eigenlijk Noord-Afrikaanse migranten. Maar het gaat hier over Syriërs, Guven zelf is een Turkse Koerd en deze visie op de roman is simplistisch: het is een goed opgebouwd, spannend (al duurde het wel een tijdje voor ik er inkwam), niet zo rechtlijnig verhaal met één of twee onverwachte twists. Natuurlijk blijkt broertje naar Syrië te zijn gegaan als moslim-dokter; hij kan goed beschrijven hoe dun de grens tussen hulpverlener-arts en strijder tegen Assad is. Broer brengt stukje bij beetje het verleden en het milieu van het gezin naar boven en laat tegelijkertijd de verveling, de leegte, de kleine criminaliteit en het gevoel van achterstelling (in het algemeen terecht) van de jonge moslims zien. Als broertje onverwacht terugkomt in Parijs loopt de spanning op. Uit de context kan de lezer zien dat het boek speelt in de tijd van de aanslag op Charle Hebdo. Een speciaal compliment voor de vertaalster die de straattaal en het jargon (en trouwens de hele tekst) zeer natuurlijk heeft weergegeven, inclusief een uitvoerige woordenlijst achterin. ( )

Minus one star for how he writes about women. Otherwise absolutely fantastic. ( )

Broer is taxichauffeur. Elf uur per dag opgesloten in zijn wagen, met constant het nieuws aan, piekert hij over zijn leven en de wereld die aan de andere kant van zijn voorruit aan hem voorbijgaat. Broertje is enige tijd geleden naar Syrië vertrokken. Op een avond gaat de bel: broertje is terug. In deze bijtende roman wisselt Mahir Guven (1986) humor af met ernst. Hij onderzoekt de wereld van werkers in dit Ubertijdperk, van chauffeurs die kapotgaan aan hun eenzaamheid, vechtend om te overleven. Hij beschrijft ook de wereld van degenen die op jihad gegaan zijn: de rekrutering, de gevechten, de onmogelijke terugkeer naar Frankrijk. Zo krijgt de aangrijpende geschiedenis van een Frans-Syrische familie gestalte, waarvan de vader en zijn twee zoons proberen te integreren in een maatschappij die hen niet veel kansen biedt. De straattaal (met verklarende woordenlijst) maakt het boek nog rijker. ( )

Guven uses contemporary France to examine two related issues many countries are reckoning with today—economic inequality and immigration. He bases his social commentary on the plight of two Muslim brothers living in the banlieues of Paris. The Parisian banlieues exist on the outskirts of the city. One brother describes them as “the dump of France.” Its inhabitants are invisible, living on the socioeconomic margins. They are “less than zeros in a society that teaches about equality and tolerance and respect.”

The narrative shifts perspectives between the two unnamed brothers. The more prominent older brother is a former soldier who makes his living as an Uber driver. The younger brother works as a surgical nurse. Both are disaffected and bored with the cards that have been dealt to them. Each is trying to give his life meaning. The older is the more jaded of the two, but beneath his gruff and ironic exterior, he still believes in God and cares about his family, attending mosque, dining with his father on Fridays, and visiting his aged grandmother at her rest home. Also, he is compelled to rescue his brother when he perceives danger. The younger brother is tired of “playing assistant butcher for guys stupider than me, born in a different universe who treated me like Uncle Tom on some Alabama plantation.” He is enticed into going to Syria, not as a radicalized fighter for the caliphate, but as a medical missionary working for a dubious NGO.

The plot is a twist on the prodigal son story. The older brother stays home, works and takes care of his widower father, a man with conservative views, who is about to retire as a taxi driver. The younger brother goes off with naïve humanitarian goals, losing contact for three years. Each tells his story in the first person. Neither has satisfying experiences. The older brother hates his entitled passengers while smoking hash, dealing drugs, and working as a police informer. “The slickest of us earn our livings from their misery: sell them the shit and count the cash.” At first, the younger brother resists joining the militants fighting the Assad regime, but eventually succumbs to becoming a bomb expert. The plot accelerates when the younger brother returns but insists on remaining distant from the family and raises suspicions that he may have been radicalized. His brother fears that he may be planning a terrorist attack in the city. Keep in mind that the novel is set following the Charlie Hedbo bombing. The final plot twist is so surprising that one cannot safely discuss it with anyone who has not yet read the book.

Guven’s narrative raises many issues marginalized immigrants face in developed countries but provides few explicit solutions. Nonetheless, he effectively uses the older brother’s thoughts and memories to slowly reveal his mindset and backstory. On the other hand, Guven’s treatment of the younger brother’s experiences in Syria are more superficial and cartoonish, leaving out his motivations and many details of what is undoubtedly a humanitarian catastrophe of the highest order. ( )

They are neither French, nor the typical Arabs you find in Paris who mainly come from the former colonies in the Maghreb countries. So no wonder the two brothers who grow up without their mother do not belong anywhere. Their father left Syria in the hope of a better life for his kids, but the older of his sons got in trouble early, only the younger one who works as a nurse in a hospital seems to have a promising future. Yet, the feeling of being unable to fulfil his dreams – becoming a real doctor, being treated like the French – throws him off the track. With a Muslim humanitarian organisation, he hopes to do something useful with his life at least and leaves the country for Syria and the war. Three years after abominable conditions leave their mark and when he returns, he is not only the same young man he was before anymore but he also has a mission to accomplish.

“We used to just be Syrians. Well, he was Syrian, and we were Maghrebins, Syrians, sometimes French, occasionally Breton; it depended who we were hanging out with. In real life, until the war in Syria, we were all more just banlieusards than anything else. But since the war, everyone’s been calling themselves Muslim.”

Mahir Guven portrays two possible ways of dealing with an undoubtedly highly demanding situation. No matter how much effort Europeans put into welcoming refugees and migrants of all kinds, societies are not easy to actually enter. The boys have a French mother and a Syrian father, thus by nature, do not completely belong anywhere. This makes them not only fragile and prone to all kinds of delinquencies, but also perceptible to questionable ideologies which on the surface seem to provide answers neither the family nor the society can offer.

The debut novel gives the young men not only a voice, but also the reader a chance to look into their heads and get an understanding of their feelings and lacking sense of belonging. It also shows that it is not inevitably the family, the friends or the milieu someone lives in which determine about their life. There are always options, decisions are made and even if you opt for one road, this does not obligatorily have to be a one-way street. Second, the terrorists who threaten our peaceful life are not always stupid idiots, but the intelligent ones who simply were refused their share of happiness and a chance in life.

I was immediately immersed in the novel which is written in a lively and authentic tone. But first and foremost, I find it highly relevant to read about these kinds of perceptions and feelings, by far too long other voices have domineered the discourse and if we want to live up to our ideals, we need to listen to them, too. ( )