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February 19, 2024
“There is no doubt that in imagining his character, so disconcerting, so unsettling, so definitively amoral, Jabbour Douaihy thought of Meursault, whom Albert Camus made his “Stranger”” – Read Le Telegramme’s review of Douaihy’s Poison in the air

“There is no doubt that in imagining his character, so disconcerting, so unsettling, so definitively amoral, Jabbour Douaihy thought of Meursault, whom Albert Camus made his “Stranger”” – Read Le Telegramme’s review of Douaihy’s Poison in the air

By Stephane Bugat, for Le Telegramme, January 28, 2024

“Poison in the air” a Lebanon of apocalypse”

First impressions, whatever one may say, are often deceptive. Thus, one prepares to discover Jabbour Douaihy’s novel as a look at Lebanon, knowing how much its internal ruptures have led it towards an abyss from which the country seems unable to emerge. This it is. But not only that. What the narrator tells us is, indeed, a double descent into hell. That of his country, but also his own, like a double fate closely intertwined. Thus, his childhood memories, those of a collective life in an oriental manner, warm and supportive, quickly give way to a process that he struggles to identify at first. “Things did not deteriorate all at once,” he recounts. “The weapons remained hidden in the large pockets of coats and behind the doors of houses, well-oiled, ready for use. There were no deaths, but there was poison in the air.” Death, which he nevertheless becomes familiar with at a very young age and then fascinates him. Just as he must assume his condition as a Maronite, which nevertheless means little to him. But he cannot feign ignorance for long, of this civil war that destroys everything in its path. He confides: “At the time, we did not grasp the causes (…), years later after having emerged from it, we would understand that they were ridiculous.”

Destroy everything because everything collapses

However, while this novel focuses on the context, it is mainly to stage the journey of the one who describes himself as “a lone wolf.” The only son of a cobbler close to communist ideas, a fervent reader from a young age, which leads him to become a teacher, frequenting, without real conviction, a Trotskyist group, and then escaping material constraints thanks to the inheritance left by a colorful aunt, the narrator proves to be mainly incapable of building a lasting romantic relationship. He thus develops a coldly nihilistic personality. To the point of shooting at motorists of whom he knows nothing. Because he is “determined to commit an act that would ruin my life.” A stay in prison has not changed that. He even rather accommodated himself to it. And since everything collapses around him, he takes meticulous care to destroy what he could have been.

There is no doubt that in imagining his character, so disconcerting, so unsettling, so definitively amoral, Jabbour Douaihy thought of Meursault, whom Albert Camus made his “Stranger.” This should certainly not lead us to a comparison, inevitably risky and only disadvantageous to him.

Yet there are many reasons to recommend reading this novel, this mise en abîme, intelligently reconciling the context of a nation adrift and a character devoid of reference points. Let us add that the author has the merit, for this story that does not leave one indifferent, of using a writing devoid of frills and whose precision and dryness are perfectly suited to the subject matter. Stephanie Dujols, who translated it from Arabic, undoubtedly contributed to this.