L'insoumise de la porte de Flandre by Fouad Laroui (review)

The reader follows a young woman's physical and psychological trajectory from her Moroccan neighborhood in Brussels (Molenbeek) to the city's center, where she finds uncommon freedom. A brilliant student, Fatima has often made clear to her professors that she is a modern and liberated Belgo-Marocaine. Suddenly, however, she abandons her university studies and takes to wearing both djellaba and head scarf—surprising, since neither religious nor cultural reasons drive her. As we surmise quickly, her dress is to spare her the constant stares and disapproval of the men in her street: "Ceci, dit-on, est mon quartier, dans ma commune. [...] Mon quartier? Plutôt le leur. Celui des hommes" (8). As Fatima heads to work over the canal and through the porte de Flandre, she meets taunts from motorists and others. One calls her a corbeau, which causes her to smile hearing a word play and musing that her immense djellaba indeed covers un corps beau. This is a prelude to what is to follow. Laroui cleverly uses the topography of Brussels to mirror Fatima's transformation, from her North African bazar-like neighborhood, through a street of political billboards, and then across a city which becomes steadily more elegant. At one moment she disappears in a side street at a friend's house and emerges in stylish European fashion. And she continues to walk past shops, pausing before a lingerie boutique, and passes the nude statues hugging the Brussels Bourse, and others further on. Finally she enters"une espèce de sex-shop" (71) and goes to work. One day, Fatima does not realize that she is being followed. Fawzi Stitou, cell-phone shop owner in Molenbeek, has proclaimed himself her fiancé, is very proud of her recent submission to Islamic dress, and very curious of her destination. He arrives at rue de Malines and uneasily pays his entry fee for a peep show. Immediately afterward he dashes frenzied to Molenbeek, arms himself with a knife and is intent on killing Fatima:"[L]'honneur se lave dans le sang" (89). The same streets are traversed, and the billboards and statues seem to mock and jeer Fawzi. Fatima is no longer there when he reappears, but uncontrollable rage and frustration lead him to kill nonetheless. Police squads arrive, and Fawdi shouts "Allahou Akbar!" (95) before being shot dead. The novel takes a detour here, and attention is turned to this latest attentat terroriste. Experts at a Brussels forum (actual scholars and citations from their written and spoken commentaries) speculate on the reasons for the radicalization of yet another Belgian-born Muslim. Irony abounds, and along with it Laroui masterfully satirizes press, government, and academics. The resolution in the last chapter might seem strained, with the author overly eager to have his "insoumise" transcend "le contrôle social" (33) and the world of men in general, but this does not detract from an otherwise fascinating and very timely tale.