Messud is a terrific writer, and this early novel of hers is no exception. The characters are great, the interesting story unspools carefully, and it kept my attention straight through till the last few pages.

I found little to like about this book. The story is depressing, the writing style and use of language distracting, and not one of the characters likable. It took me forever to read, I kept hoping something redeemable would happen, I was disappointed all the way to the final page.

I’m afraid I found this very disappointing, in spite of the fact that I’m interested in Algeria and the history of the French there. The POV character is teenaged Sagesse, whose French grandparents got out of Algiers just before it was too late. They bought and ran a hotel across the Meditteranean in the south of France. Sagesse’s father was a womanizing fellow, married to an American woman and kept down by the heavy thumb of his tyrannical father. Early on, the family is shamed when the domineering grandfather shoots his rifle randomly into the hotel swimming pool where Sagesse and her friends are playing around. Although this is put forth as a defining incident in the story, the motivation is never explored. Most of the story is the musings of Sagesse as a teen, her thoughts about her severely disabled brother, her unhappy American mother, her mostly-absent father, and a few friends who drift through the years. I didn’t find any characters likable and, in spite of some nice prose, I didn’t enjoy reading the rambling introspective thoughts of this teen. I ended up skimming great portions of the book and thus gave it only 2 stars.

2.5 stars. Started so well but went steadily, boringly, downhill with each successive chapter.

I really enjoyed this book about several generations of a family forced to flee Algeria and relocate to France. Told from the perspective of a 15 year old girl, it explores her family's many secrets, and her own identity as part French, part American, and part French Algerian, and the struggles of holding a family together in the face of tragedy and controversy.

Can’t say that I actually enjoyed this novel but I still think Messud is an impressive writer. I find it hard to respond emotionally to most of her stories, though possibly that is changing with time. Couldn’t get past the first 100 pages of The Emperor’s Children (ugh, perhaps my least favorite regardless of high reviews), whereas I quite liked The Woman Upstairs. Who knows? I may eventually love something she writes.

Interesting but I found tedious at times. I didn't like the way the author would labour over a different topic subject per chapter. Lost its drive and I struggled to finish it. Good topic.

I have not finished it, but I have read enough of the reviews to know that what is frustrating me is not going to change. I might finish it, skim the rest, or give up entirely. There are some lovely worded phrases, but the story itself is not clear or compelling, the much hyped shooting doesn't really amount to much, the characters do not command my affection or interest, and sometimes her syntax is just too much work with little payoff in clarity.

At another time and with more patience with wealthy people who assume maids and nurses and servants at every turn, I might care.

In the mean time, there are books I will enjoy more just waiting for me to give them a chance.

LATER: Among those waiting was The Woman Upstairs, which I loved.

A gift sent by dear TA, thanks you so much friend. Another book with a passport.

This is the story of a French Algerian family saga, told by her daughter Sagesse LaBasse.

She describes how they have beed discriminated by the French, how their culture overcome their difficult times after World War II. Camus is quite often cited along this book.

In order to regain her own identity, Sagesse decided to move to United States.

A very well written book, even if her first book (The Emperor's Children) was very badly criticized.

This is a coming of age story with a twist. A young French girl, Sagesse, is trying to figure out her place in the world. She is torn between an American mother and a French father (who was forced to leave his beloved Algeria as a young adult). She navigates adolescence in a quagmire of a family that is bound together by their untethered roots. Sometimes I was put off with the self-absorbed nature of Sagesse, but then her love of her brother would make me forgive her indulgences and surliness.

One sentiment expressed towards the end of the book spoke profoundly to me. I could identify with and truly appreciate this passage in this time of political uncertainty: "that being American was simple: “The one requirement,” she sniffed, “and there is only one—but one I cannot bear—is that you believe in America, that you believe it is the best place.” I believe, at least, that it is real, and that I am here. But I have taken her at her word: I would not ever openly profess disbelief, and that, thus far, has been enough. In other regions, out in the country’s vast wavering plains and valleys that I do not know, I worry that my disguise would be blown from me in a strong wind, that I might stand revealed; but I do not venture there, and so have stayed safe. In the city there are millions like me, of all hues and of hidden histories. We keep mum together and are believed. Sufficiently so." For anyone who is trying to find their place in this world and fit in, I think this is quite revealing.

"Narrated by Sagesse LaBasse, a young French-American woman with a ruthless regard for truth, The Last Life reveals the secret histories of a household shattered by an inexplicable act of violence. As she unravels her family's carefully spun stories. Sagesse struggles to come to terms with the LaBasses' haunted legacy, and to forge her own future. Moving across generations and continent from colonial Algeria to the south of France to New England, this is a lush and beautifully told novel of lies and ghosts, love and honor. "

Whoa. Lot of adjectives. Probably not a great idea to go straight from DeLillo to Messud. But really, who can you read without disappointment after DeLillo?

The never-ending novel. Several good ideas, philosophies, threads, characters, scenes like raisins lost in dough. Maybe it's me, reading it too slowly?