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When he saw me waiting for him outside the café, he said, “What, you didn’t enter? The work recounts Sattouf's childhood growing up in France, Libya and Syria in the 1970s, 80s, and 90s. “Are you Tunisian?” she asked him. Clémentine was fired from her job reading the news in French on Libyan radio: she could not contain her laughter while quoting Qaddafi’s threat to invade the United States and assassinate President Reagan. A portrait of the children of France’s ruling class, “Retour au Collège” is at once affectionate and sneering, gross and touching: a Sattouf signature. In “No Sex in New York,” inspired by a trip he made there not long after 9/11, he depicts himself as a schlemiel with an inconvenient Muslim name, a natural-born loser in a ruthlessly competitive sexual marketplace. Use of this site constitutes acceptance of our User Agreement (updated as of 1/1/21) and Privacy Policy and Cookie Statement (updated as of 1/1/21) and Your California Privacy Rights. I find that’s still true today.”. subtly written and deftly illustrated, with psychological incisiveness and humor. At one point, the children wandered off and Martin took the opportunity to show Sattouf “a little porno,” directing his attention to a sculpture from Papua New Guinea that depicted a group of young men being penetrated by their elders. Sattouf says he felt no less out of place in school in France—and scarcely less bullied—than he had in Syria. In interviews, he has said that he wrote “The Arab of the Future” out of a desire for “revenge” when France declined to provide him with visas for relatives who were trapped in Homs, under siege by the Syrian Army. In the next volume of “The Arab of the Future,” Sattouf told me, he’ll be writing about an experience no less harrowing than his childhood in Ter Maaleh: his adolescence in France. the social commentary here is more wistful and melancholy than sharp-edged . Nor was he attracted to Charlie’s style of deliberately confrontational satire. A number of rumors about Sattouf have circulated in the press and on Wikipedia (which, until recently, claimed that he grew up partly in Algeria). “If you were a cartoonist associated with Charlie, you were suddenly expected to be an expert on geopolitics. Ce dernier, Abdel-Razak Sattouf, alors qu’il venait d’une famille très pauvre, bénéficia d’une bourse pour poursuivre ses études à la Sorbonne. One of those traditions was honor killing. “If you grow up in a dictatorship like Syria, you want to control everything, because you’re afraid that if you don’t, and you say one wrong word, you could end up in jail.” But I sensed that there were other motives at work. . One of these young people was a Syrian scholarship student named Abdel-Razak Sattouf, a firm believer in Pan-Arabism and its promise of a unified, prosperous region. A rough draftsman, Sattouf relies on simplification, exaggeration, and other scrappy effects, in the way that a newspaper cartoonist might. Explorateur inlassable des mondes de l’enfance, le dessinateur à succès Riad Sattouf se penche sur la sienne – sans faux-semblants. And as Abdel-Razak returns again to the same fantastical dreams he pursued in previous books, we see him become more and more unhinged, until ultimately he crosses the line from idealism to fanaticism, leading to a dramatic breaking point. . subtly written and deftly illustrated, with psychological incisiveness and humor. He had told various people I interviewed that his father kidnapped his brother and took him back to Syria, where the brother later joined the uprising against Assad; that his father had a mystical epiphany while making the hajj to Mecca; and that he later committed a terrible crime against the family. He told me that the first and only time he’d set foot in the Arab world since he left Syria was a weekend in Marrakech a few years ago. Subhi Hadidi, a leftist member of the opposition who fled Syria in the late eighties, told me, “Sattouf is faithful to what he sees, and he doesn’t beautify reality.” (He had visited Sattouf’s village and found it “full of militants—Communists, Trotskyists, and Muslim Brothers.”) When I asked the Syrian-Lebanese poet Adonis, who has been more critical of the rebels than of the regime, what he thought of Sattouf, he said, “Sattouf describes things as they are.” I had dinner with a group of Algerian intellectuals who grew up in socialist Algeria, under the rule of Colonel Houari Boumédiène, and who told me that Sattouf might as well have been writing about their childhood. “I’m not surprised they’re calling it an Orientalist book, but it’s a false debate,” he said. Mathieu Sapin, one of Sattouf’s studio mates, told me, “In a very short time, Riad imposed himself as a figure with a set of themes all his own—youth, education, sexual frustration, the things we see in Daniel Clowes, but in a French style.” When readers told Sattouf to “stop with your stories of losers,” he invented a buff, bisexual superhero named Pascal Brutal. One of these young people was a Syrian scholarship student named Abdel-Razak Sattouf, a firm believer in Pan-Arabism and its promise of a unified, prosperous region. No French Presidency is complete without a legacy-defining monument; the Quai Branly, which opened in 2006, was Jacques Chirac’s. I’d seen teachers beating their children in school. Photograph: Magali Delporte for the Observer New Review. Abdel-Razak, effusive and irrepressible, is a Syrian emigre, a brilliant student awarded a scholarship to study for a doctorate in modern history at the Sorbonne. In 1984, the family moves to Syria and joins the Sattouf family cradle, a … The author of four comics series in France and a former contributor to the satirical publication Charlie Hebdo, Sattouf is now a weekly columnist for l’Obs. Riad was born in 1978. A French-Lebanese friend of mine, the screenwriter Joëlle Touma, attributed this to his childhood in Syria. Le père Abdel Razak est issu d’un milieu très pauvre, mais a des ambitions politiques délirantes, en plein crépuscule du panarabisme. The first Arabic word he learned from them was yehudi, “Jew.” It was hurled at him at a family gathering by two of his cousins, who proceeded to pounce on him. . It had nothing to do with the journal or the people I knew there, who detested nationalism.”. Find out more about how we use your information in our Privacy Policy and Cookie Policy. Its subtitle is A Youth in the Middle East. often disquieting, but always honest. When I asked him about these stories in an e-mail, he denied them, joking that his father had “obviously been kidnapped by extraterrestrials one day before meeting my mother but I prefer that you not talk about this in your article.” He went on to say that his brother never returned to Syria; his father barely went to the mosque, much less to Mecca; and there was never a crime against the family. When I asked for the real names of his parents, he pretended to spot an attractive woman at another table: “Look at those titties!” He told me that his father died in Syria sometime in the first years of this century, but would not give a date. “I was certain everything was going to collapse,” he told me. In the living room, there were framed drawings by his favorite cartoonists—Chris Ware, Richard Corben, and Robert Crumb, among others—and a collection of electric guitars. Al-hamdu lillah! In the first book, we see how Sattouf’s recently Sorbonne-educated father Abdel-Razak, mainly out of idealism, accepts a lectureship at the university in Tripoli, turning down an offer from Oxford University in the process. “I’m a little paranoid,” Sattouf admitted at one point. He landed his first contract in 1998—“before I had even kissed a girl.”. He spends all his days eating in expensive restaurants.”, This was one of the few times I’d heard Sattouf refer to himself as an Arab. As a teen-ager in Brittany, Sattouf spent almost all of his time in his room, drawing and reading comic books. * France 24 * Very funny and very sad. “The Arab of the Future” has become that rare thing in France’s polarized intellectual climate: an object of consensual rapture, hailed as a masterpiece in the leading journals of both the left and the right. Soon after he was born, his father, Abdel-Razak, a devout Pan-Arab nationalist, took his family to Libya and then Syria. I ordered a vegetable couscous; he ordered a salad. He hoped that the region would overcome the legacy of colonialism and recover its strength under the leadership of charismatic modernizers—secular autocrats like his hero Gamal Abdel Nasser. “The Arab of the Future” has, in effect, made him the Arab of the present in France. “She told a story of dictatorship and revolution, and suddenly she was expected to be an activist.”, I mentioned the controversy to Elias Sanbar, a Palestinian writer and diplomat, who is now Palestine’s ambassador to UNESCO. I asked him if he had a background in ethnography. Clémentine is shocked, and her husband reveals that the sentence was commuted as part of a deal between the authorities and the family. Sattouf’s cartoon was a quiet reminder that there were French citizens—many of them Muslim—who were outraged by the massacre, without being sympathetic to Charlie. In Paris, I kept running into people who had just read it, among them a former president of Doctors Without Borders, a young official in the foreign ministry who had worked throughout the Middle East, and an economist for the city of Paris. But this analysis has entered a very public arena, in a totally explosive context that’s much larger than he is.”, But plenty of French Arabists take Sattouf’s side. I’ve never drawn Jesus, Buddha, or Moses, either.”, In the first issue of Charlie published after the massacre, Sattouf revived his “Secret Life” strip. His mother and father—whom he calls Clémentine and Abdel-Razak, respectively, in his memoir—met in the early seventies in a cafeteria at the Sorbonne. “The Secret Life” established Sattouf as a distinctively sour comedian of manners—and, more controversially, as the only Arab cartoonist for Charlie Hebdo, whose mockery of religion took aim at symbols of Islamic piety, notably the image of the Prophet. In one strip, a woman complains that she can no longer wear her miniskirt to work because she’s being hit on by Islamists praying outside her office. At family gatherings, the women cooked for the men, and waited to eat whatever morsels were left. She said that she sold her house there only after the uprising against the Ben-Ali dictatorship, when the security situation deteriorated. Sattouf revisited his memories of the Middle East in … In the first book, we see how Sattouf’s recently Sorbonne-educated father Abdel-Razak, mainly out of idealism, accepts a lectureship at the university in Tripoli, turning down an offer from Oxford University in the process. (The first volume is now being published here; in France, a second volume appeared in May.). Information about your device and internet connection, including your IP address, Browsing and search activity while using Verizon Media websites and apps. . Let’s enter! Sattouf was born in 1978, in Paris. At the same time, you felt a little guilty, as if you’d started a war. In Sattouf’s memoir, his father’s decision to move the family to Syria has the coercive force of a kidnapping. often disquieting, but always honest. The attackers, brothers of Algerian ancestry who were born in Paris, said that they were avenging the Prophet Muhammad for the magazine’s mockery of the Muslim faith. Usually, Sattouf speaks in a soft, rather delicate voice; he told me that when he makes a reservation at a restaurant he lowers his voice so that he’s not mistaken for a woman. He read no histories of Syria, barely looked at family photographs, and imposed a rule on himself: never to stray from his childhood perspective, and to write only about what he knew at the time. In striking, virtuoso graphic style that captures both the immediacy of childhood and the fervor of political idealism, Riad Sattouf recounts his nomadic childhood growing up in rural France, Gaddafi’s Libya, and Assad’s Syria—but always under the roof of his father, a Syrian pan-Arabist who drags his family along in his pursuit of grandiose dreams for the Arab nation. The Syrian boys Sattouf met were like “little men,” intimidatingly fluent in the rhetoric of warfare. He is a short and compact man, with wire-rimmed glasses, a closely trimmed beard, and somewhat stubby arms that make him look like a cartoon character. Mis à jour le 2 février 2015, à 11h50. Not so long ago, the French cartoonist Riad Sattouf was signing books at a Paris librairie. Yves Gonzalez-Quijano, a French scholar of the Arab world, told me that the book’s appeal in France “rests on an unconscious, or partly conscious, racism,” paraphrasing Emmanuel Todd’s thesis about Charlie. He had little affection for the regime, and even less for the Alawite minority that dominated it, but he was desperate to improve his fortunes. Ter Maaleh was Abdel-Razak’s home, but he hadn’t been back in seventeen years, and he was nearly as much of a stranger there as his wife, the only woman in the village who didn’t cover herself. Abdel-Razak declares. In 1990, Abdel-Razak and Clémentine separated. *An earlier version of this article incorrectly included Renald Luzier in a list of people killed in the attack at the offices of Charlie Hebdo. often disquieting, but always honest. A little girl began talking to her mother, and a look of intense concentration came over Sattouf’s face. I can’t compete with that.”, “I don’t need to write it down, boss, I’m wearing a wire.”, “Yeah, but good luck getting it peer-reviewed.”. Riad Sattouf's shockingly blunt The Arab of the Future, which tells the story of the French cartoonist's itinerant childhood in the Middle East, is a must for anyone who wants to understand more about the failure of the pan-Arab dream, with all the consequences … . “When I started to remember this period, I realized that many of my memories were of sounds and smells,” Sattouf told me. Sexual segregation was rigorously observed. In 2006, Charlie Hebdo reprinted the cartoons of the Prophet that had run in a right-wing Danish newspaper. Riad Sattouf is the son of a Syrian man, Abdel-Razak Sattouf and of a French woman, Clémentine. “I think Riad believes the world around him is really scary on a daily basis,” Berjeaut said. . Little Riad uses his nose to navigate his worlds, Arab and French, and to find his place in them. During these years, Sattouf would return to France each summer, spending it with his mother’s family in Brittany. In France, where the … Martin has been involved in the museum since its conception, in 1998. One day, as we were walking across a bridge over the Seine, I asked Sattouf how he felt after the attacks. Clémentine is aghast at the murder, while Abdel-Razak tries to have it both ways: Yes, he says, honor crimes are “terrible,” but in rural Syria becoming pregnant outside marriage “is the worst dishonor that a girl can bring upon her family.” Clémentine pressures Abdel-Razak to report the crime, and the men are imprisoned. When Sattouf was seven, a cousin of his, a thirty-five-year-old widow who taught him to draw, was suffocated to death by her father and her brother, who had discovered that she was pregnant. Riad Sattouf is the son of a Syrian man, Abdel-Razak Sattouf and of a French woman, Clémentine. I should go to the gym, but I’m too lazy!”. Riad Sattouf’s parents met in the early 1970s in a cafeteria at the Sorbonne. It was instinctive.” He wrote the book in “a kind of trance,” he told me, drawing almost exclusively on memory. By filling them with sperm, Martin explained, the elders were inducting the next generation into leadership. Émile Bravo, a comic-book artist who is a close friend of Sattouf’s, met him at a conference in 2002. According to Sattouf, it was Bravo who gave him the confidence to begin writing his own stories. The question seemed to startle Sattouf. “I had the feeling people were suffering from a lack of freedom, while Europeans were in bars eating tartare de dorade.”. (She’s the Marge Simpson of “The Arab of the Future,” rolling her eyes as her husband quotes the maxims of Qaddafi’s manifesto, “The Green Book.”). “The problem isn’t Sattouf, who has written a funny and sympathetic book. He picked up a toy gun, a “Blade Runner” prop: “I’m gonna kill someone!”. What he’s written is very personal, a kind of self-analysis, really. The author of four comics series in France and a weekly column in the satirical publication Charlie Hebdo, Sattouf also directed the films The French Kissers and Jacky in the Women's Kingdom.The Arab of the Future is his first work to appear in English. He told me that because he did not have stereotypically Arab features he was rarely seen as such. I’m not a family guy. He was completely fascinated by power.”. “I was totally disoriented,” he said. If you do, someone at the airport is going to say to you, ‘Please come this way, sir.’ Ten years later, you will have a great article for The New Yorker about life in an Algerian prison. “I can already see the first lines in The New Yorker,” he replied. His caustic, often brutal vision of how boys are groomed to become men has brought him acclaim far beyond the underground-comics scene where he first made his name. He said that his younger brother works as an engineer in Boulogne but that “you will never know anything else about him! Tell me about you, Adam. Little Riad, its apparently guileless narrator, is a Candide figure, who can’t help noticing the rot around him, even as the adults invoke the glories of Arab socialism. Riad Sattouf, for a decade the only cartoonist of Arab heritage at Charlie Hebdo, has tapped into French anxieties about Islam. The man we actually hear, growing increasingly testy, replies, “I don’t give a fuck about Charlie Hebdau,” but “you don’t kill someone for that, that’s all.”. Riad Sattouf photographed in Paris for the Observer last week. Abdel-Razak, who has a doctorate in history from the Sorbonne, is a fierce admirer of Arab nationalism. (He is paid in US dollars, with the funds sent to an account in the Channel Islands.) His journey from cheerful liberal to quiet authoritarian is the subject of "The Arab of the Future," a graphic memoir by his son, the comic artist and filmmaker Riad Sattouf. Abdel-Razak tried to ingratiate himself with more powerful men, like his cousin, a general in the Syrian Army. I spoke to a number of Syrian intellectuals in Paris; all of them vouched for the accuracy of Sattouf’s depiction of Baathist Syria, whatever their views about the current war. That way, he could match and even overtake France and the West by building a … One morning in mid-July, Sattouf, a French-Syrian comic-book artist who has recently emerged as France’s best-known graphic novelist, took me there, along with his year-old son, his son’s Ivorian nanny, and her three small daughters. Riad Sattouf is a best-selling cartoonist and filmmaker who grew up in Syria, Libya, and Algeria, and now lives in Paris. Abdel-Razak who moves to Paris to complete a Doctorate in History at the Sorbonne, falls in love with a Frenchwoman named Clémentine. He draws at his desk on Photoshop, facing a wall of bookshelves stacked with comic books and works on Paris photography by Atget and Doisneau. “Ah, putain, it stinks!” Sattouf screamed, running to shut the window. In “The Arab of the Future,” his accommodation is nearly as heartbreaking as the killing itself. His blond hair turned black and curly, and, he recalled, “I went from being an elf to a troll. Issu d'un milieu pauvre, féru de politique et obsédé par le panarabisme, Abdel-Razak Sattouf élève son fils Riad dans le culte des grands dictateurs arabes, symboles de modernité et de puissance virile. It struck me that there was perhaps a compensatory element to his penchant for adolescent sexual humor. He stayed there until last year, when he set up a studio at home. We can’t hear what the other person is saying, but he seems to be either belittling the atrocities or hinting that they were part of a larger conspiracy. Son père, Abdel-Razak Sattouf, est détenteur d'un doctorat d'histoire Issu d'une famille très pauvre, le père de Riad Sattouf élève brillant a obtenu une bourse pour étudier à la Sorbonne. The New Yorker may earn a portion of sales from products that are purchased through our site as part of our Affiliate Partnerships with retailers. He turned out to be the source for at least some of them. The effect of this omission is one of time travel, back to the vanished future of pan-Arabism. The only book about the Middle East that I could see was one on Islam by Bernard Lewis. . Food was scarce; sometimes they subsisted on bananas. Shortly after arriving in Paris to complete a doctorate in history at the Sorbonne, Abdel-Razak falls in love with a Frenchwoman, Clementine, and with the country itself. The more he tried to minimize his interest in the Arab world, the more he talked about it, usually in the form of comic riffs. Riad Sattouf is a best-selling cartoonist and filmmaker who grew up in Syria and Libya and now lives in Paris. “Netanyahu, Abbas, all the heads of state, French people singing the ‘Marseillaise’: I think Cabu and the others would have been traumatized if they’d seen the demonstration—horrified, really. And Sattouf didn’t call the book “The Boy from Ter Maaleh”; he called it “The Arab of the Future.”. In “The Arab of the Future,” the visual marker of that destiny is his blond hair, the color of his mother’s. He claims to have forgotten the Arabic he learned in Syria, has no Arab friends, doesn’t follow the news from the Middle East, and knows no one in the Paris-based Syrian opposition. “Those experiences gave me an immense affection for Jews and gays,” he said. With a young child and a newly minted doctorate in history, Abdel-Razak — whose stated aspiration for his son, to become “the Arab of the future,” lends Sattouf’s autobiographical series its … “My father was a collaborator,” Sattouf says. A young, working-class man of North African background, with a shaved head and wearing a parka and sneakers, speaks in thick banlieue slang on his cell phone, often with his back to us. “Sattouf is experiencing something that Marjane Satrapi experienced after ‘Persepolis’ came out,” he said. “The Arab of the Future,” he said, gives the reader “the raw facts,” untainted by any “political discourse.” But Sattouf’s choice of facts is selective, and it would be hard to read “The Arab of the Future” as anything other than a bitter indictment of the pan-Arabist project that his father espoused. . The Jew was “a kind of evil creature for us,” Sattouf told me, though no one had actually seen one. He seemed to have an enormous tableau of the characters in the human comedy.” The son of refugees from Franco’s Spain, Bravo was a kindred spirit; like Sattouf, he had spent his childhood shuttling between France and a rural village under dictatorship, and he knew what it was like to feel permanently out of place. And in this context arrived a book—humorous, humane—that all of a sudden gave the French the illusion of knowing a country.”, Sattouf himself seemed to want people to read as little into his work as possible and insisted that his project was to write about his childhood in a remote village, not about Syria, much less about the Arab world. She’ll be driving six white horses, she’ll be driving six white horses, she’ll be driving six white horses when she comes. often disquieting, but always honest." Photo Illustration by Olaf Blecker for The New Yorker, “She’ll be driving six white horses when she comes. “I remembered that every woman I knew in the village had a very different odor. Sattouf’s emphasis of his father’s personal racism, sexism, and xenophobia become almost hyperbolic in their presentation. He identifies his relatives by their smell: the sweat of his Syrian grandmother, which he prefers to the perfume of his French grandmother; the “sour smell” of his maternal grandfather. The book is, in part, a settling of accounts with the man who stole his childhood, a man he once worshipped but came to despise. France is gray-blue; Libya is yellow; Syria, where he spent a decade, is a pinkish red. I was voted the ugliest person in class.” Accused of being a Jew in Syria, he was now gay-baited because of his high voice. A couple of years later, after the birth of Sattouf’s brother, Abdel-Razak got a job teaching in Damascus, and moved the family to Ter Maaleh, the village where he’d grown up. Clémentine took her sons to live in Brittany. often disquieting, but always honest * France 24 * Sattouf's account of his childhood is a deeply personal recollection of a peripatetic youth that can resonate with audiences across the world. He implies his father is a fool for turning down a Western university and taking a posting in Libya, positions Abdel-Razak’s long-term goal of building a palatial family home on his Syrian land as a pipe dream. Abdel-Razak muses on the Ypm Kippur War. The Quai Branly is at once a voluptuous tribute to the riches of French ethnography (several of the pieces came from the collections of Claude Lévi-Strauss and others) and a reminder of a history of overseas plunder. --Laila Lalami, The New York Times Book Review ... [Sattouf's] mismatched parents--his bookish French mother and pan-Arabist father, Abdel-Razak Sattouf . His journey from cheerful liberal to quiet authoritarian is the subject of "The Arab of the Future," a graphic memoir by his son, the comic artist and filmmaker Riad Sattouf. He went on, “Because he’s part Arab, everything he says becomes acceptable, including the most atrociously racist things. If Abdel-Razak were seen by Sattouf as nothing more than a damaged father in Syria, The Arab of the Future would not be nearly so bleak. For our first meeting, Sattouf proposed that I come to a café near his apartment, not far from the Place de la République, where he lives with his partner—a comic-book editor—and their son. In November, 2011, it published a special issue, Charia Hebdo, guest-edited by the Prophet; the offices were fire-bombed just as it hit the newsstands. (“I used to masturbate a lot thinking of her when I was a teen-ager,” he volunteered.) The child of a passive Breton mother, Clémentine, and a goofy, boorish Syrian father, Abdel-Razak, Sattouf shrewdly restricts himself to the point of view of his age throughout. Sattouf listened quietly to Martin as we strolled along the long nave where most of the museum’s artifacts are exhibited. He is embarrassed by his son’s vulnerability, which reminds him of his own; he proclaims himself the master of the household but usually defers to his more practical wife. They met in Paris when Abdel was working on his thesis at La Sorbonne. . Austere and piously Sunni, Ter Maaleh proved even more trying than Libya. Will be used in accordance with our Privacy Policy. En 1984, la famille déménage en Syrie et rejoint le berceau des Sattouf, un petit village près de Homs. Kate’s Cuisine, as regulars like Sattouf call it, is a quiet, rustic place with wood tables and turquoise placemats, decorated with North African bric-a-brac and photographs. He showed me his method one day while we were riding the Métro. In a lacerating critique for the Web site Orient XXI, published two weeks after the Charlie Hebdo massacre, Laurent Bonnefoy, a young Middle East scholar, argued that Sattouf’s book had seduced French readers by pandering to Orientalist prejudices: “The Arab is dirty . “Riad is a sponge,” the comic-book artist Jul Berjeaut told me. On the first day that we met, Sattouf took me to lunch at Les Comptoirs de Carthage, a canteen in the Marais owned by Kate Daoud, an Englishwoman in her sixties who married a Tunisian and lived in Tunisia for many years before settling in Paris. With Clémentine transcribing his words and "rendering them intelligible," Abdul-Razak obtains a Ph.D. in history from the Sorbonne. In 1980, he moves the family to Libya after accepting a job as an associate professor.
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