The author wrote this when she was 19 years old and it definitely has a YA simplicity and feel to it. I saw some comparisons to The Catcher in the Rye but I think it may more closely align with S.E. Hinton's The Outsiders, both from the standpoint of a young author and for characters who are existing on the margins of society.
My daughter read this early on in college, having a professor for a core class (where the book was read in English) who also happened to be a French professor for my daughter. The professor told my daughter that the French version is definitely better, there is quite a bit of slang and plays on words that just didn't come through very well in the English translation.
While the story is pretty simple and moves quickly (I easily read it in one sitting), it definitely touches on a lot of themes that could be more deeply explored: the plight of immigrants, especially of the youth that often serve as the divide/bridge for their parents and the new country, racism, low-income housing especially for immigrant groups, clashes between social/cultural/religious mores, classism, etc. So, it felt like a surface-level scratching of some deeper issues, which fits well with the 15-year-old protagonist, her teenage cynicism, and general comments about her life.
France prides itself on "Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité", but this book punches some holes in that old facade.
I can't say it's a favorite, but I appreciated the fresh voice and a look at lives not normally examined (especially in French literature).
A classic coming-of-age story told from the perspective of teenage Doria, we follow her as she remains alongside her immigrant mother in Paris after the return of her father to their native Morocco.
In terms of plot, I couldn't say that there was anything that I thought especially original or captivating. There are events in the Islamic community in France, such as the Eid, different festivals, appearances of typical food and clothing, and these are interspersed with the experience of a single mother and daughter who are struggling financially. There's talk of boys, babysitting jobs, the relationship between men and women in Islam, but I guess because we see it all through the eyes of a teenage girl there was nothing I thought was told differently, there wasn't something I could say that I learned from this experience. It was by all means a pleasant read, I liked Doria, I could empathise with her, but neither was she my favourite character ever nor did I think her meditations on life were particularly enlightening.
I wish there was more about the community they lived in, perhaps some interactions with white French people, perhaps more conflict, so I can say it was fine but nothing memorable.
This was just okay. It's written in pretty simple French which makes for a quick and easy read. Faïza was 19 years old when this book was published, and to be honest, it shows. This read more like a personal diary than a novel, this was more autobiography than fiction. While it had its fun and cute moments, this was a little too episodic for me, things just happen with no real purpose or meaning or importance. This would have been a stronger book if there was more of an actual plot and if it had some actual character development; everyone and everything in Kiffe, Kiffe Demain was too one-dimensional, which renders it all sweet, but basic and forgettable. I can see why this is taught in college courses though: it's not often that you get a chance to read a French novel from an Algerian girl's POV and in a poorer part of Paris, it was eye-opening in that way in where it truly felt like this story was written by someone who lived it, but it needed depth, structure, and focus, which was sorely and woefully lacking. For what it is, though, it's an entertaining coming of age story, and also is a way for French language students to be exposed to some argotique vocabulary. Just don't expect anything mind-blowingly amazing, but it does have a charm and nostalgia and youthfulness about it, which makes it worth the read despite its flaws, limitations, and shortcomings.
Il me fallait absolument lire « Kiffe kiffe demain » avant de lire le nouveau roman de Faïza Guène, « Kiffe Kiffe hier ». Je me suis dit que, pour une fois, mieux valait faire les choses dans l’ordre.
Il faut savoir aussi que je n’aime pas, mais pas du tout, les couvertures avec des photos de personnes dessus, exception faite pour les bibliographies et autres récits du même genre, et encore, et que j’avais donc commandé l’ouvrage à la couverture psychédélique verte. Quelle ne fût pas ma surprise en ouvrant le colis ! Un signe ? Quoi qu’il en soit, s’agit-il d’une photo de l’autrice plus jeune ? Je l’ignore mais on va dire que oui…
L’histoire avait tout pour me plaire et me parle d’ailleurs à plusieurs niveaux mais (eh oui, vous le voyiez venir ce satané « mais », en même temps l’emploi de l’imparfait était un indice aussi gros que mon nez au milieu de mon visage), j’ai vécu une expérience de lecture qui ressemble beaucoup à ce que certaines personnes décrivent après une expérience de mort imminente. Alors, je vous rassure, je ne suis pas morte (même si aujourd’hui j’ai beaucoup de mal à émerger), mais j’ai lu ce livre comme si mon esprit s’était dissocié de mon corps (je sais, l’alcool nuit gravement à la santé physique et mentale) ; bref, c’est comme si je le lisais sans vraiment le lire (de mieux en mieux).
Je pense que si j’avais lu ce livre il y a quelques années, j’aurais adoré ma lecture. Attention, je ne dis pas non plus que je n’ai pas aimé le lire, c’est juste que, même si les thèmes abordés me touchent, même si le style de la narration se prête parfaitement bien au propos du récit, je n’ai pas été subjuguée.
Sinon, ça parle de quoi ? D’une adolescente issue de l’immigration, élève médiocre, dont le père est aux abonnés absents et la mère peine à joindre les deux bouts, le tout rapporté à la 1ère personne, ce qui apporte justement cette touche de « je sais de quoi je parle ».
Bref, j’en attends énormément du nouveau roman de l’autrice…
I’ve always been fascinated by the power of voice in fiction. The way a narrator tells the story can draw me in or push me away.
It's not just about the words they use but the perspective they bring, the attitude they have toward the story they're telling—their quirks, their honesty, and the way they see the world.
A strong voice makes me feel like I’m sitting across from someone with a story to tell, and that connection is what keeps me turning the pages.
It's not surprising then that when I first read Faïa Guène’s Kiffe Kiffe Tomorrow, it was Doria’s voice that pulled me in. Her raw, unfiltered perspective gave life to the Paris projects in a way no omniscient narrator ever could.
Years later, I’m still thinking about how Guène’s choices taught me that voice isn’t just about how a character speaks—it’s how they invite us into their world. So I re-read the book, and I love what it's teaching me as a writer....
Le récit d'une fille des banlieues parisiennes qui essaye de donner du sens à sa vie. Sympa et facile à lire. Le tout a l'intérêt de donner un aperçu des réalités mais ne va pas en profondeur.