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novelvisits's review against another edition
3.0
My Thoughts: Older Brother is the story of two Franco-Syrian brothers born and raised in Paris. Their mother died when they were in their early teens and the two watched their father try to make his living as a taxi driver. The elder brother smoked a lot of weed and drove for UBER. The younger brother worked as a nurse until he went off to Syria to do humanitarian work, then dropped completely out of contact. While I enjoyed the story when it was focused on the brothers and their relationship, huge chunks of the book were just too dull, including the younger brother’s time in Syria and the older brother’s run-ins with the law. What did work for me in Older Brother was the plight of being Syrian in an age of terrorism. That gave me much to think about. I also really liked the epilogue (something I rarely say). It made the entire story make much more sense. I’m just not sure it was worth the wait.
florismeertens's review against another edition
Een boek over de hood staat of valt bij het taalgebruik, en ik weet niet wat het precies is, maar Guven (en vertaler Steenbergen) lijkt het personage vlekkeloos te kunnen vertolken. Er is genoeg ruimte voor scherpe observaties over politiek, maatschappij en religie, maar ook voor hitsigheid, keiharde humor en je-m’en-foutisme.
margaretefg's review against another edition
3.0
Not one but 2 unreliable narrators. Brothers growing up in the banlieu, with a Breton mother and Syrian, communist. taxi driving father. they make very different decisions about how to deal with the racism and personal difficulties they face. After a while, it's impossible to tell if they love each other or are totally frustrated with each other and it's also impossible to tell if the younger brother's story is really happening at all. but I couldn't stop reading.
doctormabuse's review against another edition
5.0
Hyper modern thriller in modern day France that grips readers with its central narrative while providing a deeply enriching portrait of the personalities that can be found among France's vital immigrant community. Provides more valuable insight into the relationship between Muslim and non-Muslim French people than can be found in the works of other notable contemporary French authors, I submit.
rosebache's review
challenging
dark
emotional
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
stefaniefrei's review against another edition
3.0
Etwas aufgesetzt wirkend, auch sprachlich. Und: was ist der Sinn?
„Hier in Frankreich waren wir ein Scheißdreck. Weniger als nichts in einer Gesellschaft, die Gleichheit, Toleranz und Respekt lehrt.“
Der „kleine Bruder“ und der „große Bruder“, wie sie fast die ganze Zeit über heißen werden, sind die knapp unter 30jährigen Söhne eines Einwanderers aus Syrien, „richtige“ Araber, wie der Vater voller Herablassung über die aus dem Mahgreb sagt. In der alten Heimat, im Bled, hatte er ein Diplom, aber ohne korrektes Französisch konnte er die Familie nur als Taxifahrer ernähren. „…ich schaffe es aber nicht, das zu erklären. Das Leben ist schrecklich, wenn man nicht genug Wörter hat. Die anderen müssen dir zwei Mal so lange zuhören, bis sie dich verstehen. Und teurer ist es auch. Der Therapeut und der Anwalt berechnen dir doppelt so viel, weil du dich mit den Füßen erklärst.“
Der Vater fährt Taxi, der ältere Sohn arbeitet für Uber, was permanente Querelen verursacht. Es fehlt die Mutter, eine Bretonin und somit „echte“ Französin – sie starb früh. Während der Ältere sich ein selbständiges Leben aufbaut mit gelegentlichem Drogenkonsum, ist der Jüngere Krankenpfleger, Idealist, unzufrieden angesichts seiner Träume und Erwartungen. „Um aufrecht zu stehen, muss man ein starkes Rückgrat haben. Und uns haben ein paar Wirbel gefehlt. Jeder von uns hat das auf seine Art ausgeglichen. Ich mit Autos, Kiffe, Shit, Gras und der Kleine mit dem Kopf in den Wolken und der Hand auf dem Koran.“
Doch wie weit geht die Begeisterung des kleinen Bruders, als er sich für eine islamische Hilfsorganisation verpflichtet, um nach Syrien zu gehen? Und vor allem, falls er zurückgekehrt sein sollte, zu welchem Zweck?
Autor Mahir Guven schildert seine Erzählung im Wechsel aus der Sicht der beiden Brüder als Erzähler, ungeschönt, im Slang. Das klingt ein wenig wie Kaya Yanar mit „Was guckst du“ + Flüche. Ehrlich gesagt: es wirkt irgendwann etwas prätentiös. Wie soll ich das erklären – ein Onkel meinte einmal, er möge keine Filme mit Handlung im Mittelalter, in denen es permanent dunkel sei. Man habe ja damals den Vergleich zu moderner Beleuchtung nicht gehabt und somit die eigene Funzel wohl als hell empfunden. Warum sprechen die Söhne also so, beide Eltern waren gebildet, der Vater hat nur kein korrektes Französisch gelernt? Und: wenn sie denn so sprechen, dann wäre es aus ihrer Sicht eine ganz normale Kommunikation – distanziert sie aber komplett von meiner Sprachwelt.
Die Handlung hielt mich bei der Stange, lässt mich aber mit Fragen zurück. Was will uns der Autor sagen? Wer Moslems keine Chance lässt, braucht sich über Radikalisierung nicht zu wundern? Oder soll es uns unsere Vorurteile zur Islamisierung vor Augen führen? Der zweimalige 360-Grad-Hakenschlag jedenfalls lässt am Ende nur Fragen offen. Interessant, aber ein wenig aufgesetzt wirkend. So wie wenn im Buch ein Kind die Hauptfigur ist und irgendwie gar keine kindgerechten Gedanken und Handlungen hat.
3 Sterne. Ich würde ein zweites Buch des Autors mindestens anlesen
„Hier in Frankreich waren wir ein Scheißdreck. Weniger als nichts in einer Gesellschaft, die Gleichheit, Toleranz und Respekt lehrt.“
Der „kleine Bruder“ und der „große Bruder“, wie sie fast die ganze Zeit über heißen werden, sind die knapp unter 30jährigen Söhne eines Einwanderers aus Syrien, „richtige“ Araber, wie der Vater voller Herablassung über die aus dem Mahgreb sagt. In der alten Heimat, im Bled, hatte er ein Diplom, aber ohne korrektes Französisch konnte er die Familie nur als Taxifahrer ernähren. „…ich schaffe es aber nicht, das zu erklären. Das Leben ist schrecklich, wenn man nicht genug Wörter hat. Die anderen müssen dir zwei Mal so lange zuhören, bis sie dich verstehen. Und teurer ist es auch. Der Therapeut und der Anwalt berechnen dir doppelt so viel, weil du dich mit den Füßen erklärst.“
Der Vater fährt Taxi, der ältere Sohn arbeitet für Uber, was permanente Querelen verursacht. Es fehlt die Mutter, eine Bretonin und somit „echte“ Französin – sie starb früh. Während der Ältere sich ein selbständiges Leben aufbaut mit gelegentlichem Drogenkonsum, ist der Jüngere Krankenpfleger, Idealist, unzufrieden angesichts seiner Träume und Erwartungen. „Um aufrecht zu stehen, muss man ein starkes Rückgrat haben. Und uns haben ein paar Wirbel gefehlt. Jeder von uns hat das auf seine Art ausgeglichen. Ich mit Autos, Kiffe, Shit, Gras und der Kleine mit dem Kopf in den Wolken und der Hand auf dem Koran.“
Doch wie weit geht die Begeisterung des kleinen Bruders, als er sich für eine islamische Hilfsorganisation verpflichtet, um nach Syrien zu gehen? Und vor allem, falls er zurückgekehrt sein sollte, zu welchem Zweck?
Autor Mahir Guven schildert seine Erzählung im Wechsel aus der Sicht der beiden Brüder als Erzähler, ungeschönt, im Slang. Das klingt ein wenig wie Kaya Yanar mit „Was guckst du“ + Flüche. Ehrlich gesagt: es wirkt irgendwann etwas prätentiös. Wie soll ich das erklären – ein Onkel meinte einmal, er möge keine Filme mit Handlung im Mittelalter, in denen es permanent dunkel sei. Man habe ja damals den Vergleich zu moderner Beleuchtung nicht gehabt und somit die eigene Funzel wohl als hell empfunden. Warum sprechen die Söhne also so, beide Eltern waren gebildet, der Vater hat nur kein korrektes Französisch gelernt? Und: wenn sie denn so sprechen, dann wäre es aus ihrer Sicht eine ganz normale Kommunikation – distanziert sie aber komplett von meiner Sprachwelt.
Die Handlung hielt mich bei der Stange, lässt mich aber mit Fragen zurück. Was will uns der Autor sagen? Wer Moslems keine Chance lässt, braucht sich über Radikalisierung nicht zu wundern? Oder soll es uns unsere Vorurteile zur Islamisierung vor Augen führen? Der zweimalige 360-Grad-Hakenschlag jedenfalls lässt am Ende nur Fragen offen. Interessant, aber ein wenig aufgesetzt wirkend. So wie wenn im Buch ein Kind die Hauptfigur ist und irgendwie gar keine kindgerechten Gedanken und Handlungen hat.
3 Sterne. Ich würde ein zweites Buch des Autors mindestens anlesen
thebooktrail88's review against another edition
4.0
Visit the settings and locations in the novel Older Brother
There are some novels that you have to class as an experience. A book can take you to a place and time, allow you to meet people and experience life as you might never normally do. Older Brother does all of this and more. It gets inside your head and makes you think. It made me really think.
How must it really feel for a immigrant Muslim family to have grown up in Paris, whilst never really feeling like this is their home? Their father a refugee from many years earlier, he married his French wife and had two sons. They are both Franco-Syrian and it’s through their eyes, via chapters entitled ‘Older Brother’ and ‘Younger Brother’ how we learn about what this kind of life might be like.
What must it feel like to not feel at home in Paris, or in your homeland of Syria?
This study of contrast and outsider syndrome can be felt on many levels. What was particularly interesting was the fact that the father had set himself up and integrated to some degree whilst driving a taxi. His oldest son does the same, but by now, things have changed and the taxi is an Uber. Ubers are of course not liked by traditional taxi drivers and so this is yet another barrier between traditional taxi drivers (his father) and the younger Uber generation. The Younger Son is believed to be working for a Humanitarian Society who helps injured Muslim people in Syria. Was he spotted in a train station in the French capital though?
The confusion, constant driving around builds up a great sense of confusion and sense of loss. There is no direction in their lives, they wander, they search for answers yet don’t know where their own brother and son might be. Where in fact are they? Physically in France, but their hearts and minds are another thing.
There is a lot of brotherly love here. They have to stick together. All in the same boat etc. Yet the Older Brother is torn between wondering where his brother is and hating him for being away and hurting his family. They can’t be sure if he’s doing good in the Humanitarian society or is there helping Jihadi fighters. A love for ones homeland and sense of belonging is a powerful force indeed.
What would happen if the brother returned? Do we find out? That is a major thread in the novel and I’m going to stop saying anymore as you really have to go into this not knowing and wondering. The ending surprised and shocked me. But it lingered. I’m still thinking about it and feel this would be ideal for a bookclub or discussion. There are so many issues I hadn’t really thought about such as how tricky that level of family loyalty might be.
What really made me smile however was the many moments of humour in the novel (how you can’t scam a French couple in an Uber otherwise they’ll vote for the National Front). This was just one of many ways that the author injected humour in such a clever way that you ended up smiling at something serious, but then got the heart, soul and raw emotion from it.
A very interesting read this one. Recommended.
jaclyn_sixminutesforme's review against another edition
5.0
After loving Kover’s translation of DISORIENTAL by Négar Djavadi, I heard her mention in an interview she did with @thereadingwomen that she had another upcoming release - cue me putting OLDER BROTHER on my TBR without knowing anything else!
The story itself jumps between the perspectives of two brothers in a Franco-Syrian family - older brother is an app-based driver in Paris, disrupting his taxi-driver father’s livelihood and part of the many examples of society closing opportunities to the family. The narrative thread about the father really dives into this on a much deeper level, and made for an interesting juxtaposition with older brother’s perspective particularly. Younger brother is a nurse who had moved to Syria to volunteer in a Muslim humanitarian organization. Things very quickly transpire to be more complex for all three men, particularly the brothers, and what ensues is a really well paced and complex juxtaposition of contemporary social politics (what the blurb so perfectly describes as the “Uberized lives of workers”) and the reach and looming specter that is terrorism. A really clever an unique read that is like nothing I’ve read before, and which completely took me be surprise with how quickly I connected with the narrative thematically. Well worth a read!
The story itself jumps between the perspectives of two brothers in a Franco-Syrian family - older brother is an app-based driver in Paris, disrupting his taxi-driver father’s livelihood and part of the many examples of society closing opportunities to the family. The narrative thread about the father really dives into this on a much deeper level, and made for an interesting juxtaposition with older brother’s perspective particularly. Younger brother is a nurse who had moved to Syria to volunteer in a Muslim humanitarian organization. Things very quickly transpire to be more complex for all three men, particularly the brothers, and what ensues is a really well paced and complex juxtaposition of contemporary social politics (what the blurb so perfectly describes as the “Uberized lives of workers”) and the reach and looming specter that is terrorism. A really clever an unique read that is like nothing I’ve read before, and which completely took me be surprise with how quickly I connected with the narrative thematically. Well worth a read!
missmesmerized's review against another edition
5.0
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.
“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.