Two years ago, when comics author Riad Sattouf released the sixth and final edition of his 6-part autobiography, L’Arabe du Futur, I was sad to be at the end of a fascinating saga, each book of which I’d eagerly devoured. Sattouf, whose mother is French and father is Syrian, had an eye-opening childhood as his family bounced between France and the Middle East in an effort to find a homeland that both parents could tolerate. Riad was the oldest of their three children and when the troubled marriage eventually disintegrated, Riad’s father kidnapped his youngest brother, Fadi, and fled to Syria.
The final two volumes of L’Arabe du Futur devote a portion of the action to Riad’s mother—her torment over losing her youngest son and her dogged commitment to retrieving him from Ter Maaleh, a village near Homs, Syria where he was living with his father. At the end of book 6, Riad is a young adult trying to break into the competitive world of professional cartooning, and perhaps more importantly, Fadi has finally returned to France after a 20-year absence.
It’s a logical point to end the series: Sattouf’s childhood is well behind him; his career lies on the cusp of great success (the series is only one of Sattouf’s worldwide bestsellers); Fadi is back and seemingly unscathed; and, with the father deceased, the biggest impediment to the family remaining together no longer exists. There seemed little else to tell.
Then, on September 1, 2024, Sattouf posted the following on his Instagram account: “SURPRIIISE: NEW SERIES!” Hence was introduced Moi Fadi, Le Frère Volé, a counterpoint sequel that covers much of the same time period but from Fadi’s perspective. The announcement was a brilliant piece of marketing that no one seems to have seen coming. In some ways, this is not surprising since Sattouf is an insanely prolific author who thrives on juggling several projects simultaneously. In 2023, he released the first book of the series Le Jeune Acteur and says he worked on Moi, Fadi for more than 10 years before publishing this first volume.
A Phantom in the Room
As it turns out, Sattouf interviewed his brother in 2011 and 2012 to fill in the “black hole” that had overshadowed his family’s existence. In doing so, he discovered that his long-lost sibling, who no longer spoke or understood French, had far more in common with him than he’d suspected. Riad had also spent part of his childhood in Ter Maaleh when his parents were still together. He and Fadi had attended the same overbearing elementary school, had found friends and played in the same streets, had arrived not knowing a word of Arabic but quickly adapted, had feasted with, feared, and fancied many of the same Syrian relatives.
Fadi’s testimony unearthed many of Riad’s long-buried memories and he was fascinated by his brother’s story. At that point, he knew he wanted to develop a graphic series based on Fadi’s experience but felt he first needed to tell his own story. In 2014 he released book 1 of L’Arabe du Futur, knowing the series would terminate with Fadi’s return. (The kidnapping doesn’t take place until the end of book 4). Only then would he unroll Fadi’s narrative. Talk about taking the long view!
Sattouf claims to be non-religious despite the variety of mystical beliefs held by family members. His father was a devout Muslim, his Syrian relatives adhered to various outdated practices, and his Breton grandmother believed in ghosts. In interviews, however, Sattouf refers to two personal experiences that might be seen as belonging to the paranormal realm. The first is the haunting presence of his youngest brother. Throughout his life, Sattouf often felt as if Fadi was somehow looking over his shoulder, watching him draw and judging his actions. The second was the unexpected success of L’Arabe du Future. After decades of unsuccessfully trying to interest people in the ruptured family’s plight, the popularity of the series has been mystifying.
The Bittersweet Plasticity of Children
Throughout the years of separation, Sattouf pieced together his own version of the life he felt Fadi must be living. When they finally reconnected, however, Riad learned that this constructed reality had little to do with the truth. For one thing, Syria had changed in unexpected ways since Riad’s departure. His memories of Homs for example, were of a Soviet-like city where store shelves were scarcely populated with the most basic of goods. When Fadi told Riad that their father had taken him to a video game store in an effort to appease his homesickness, Riad was dumbstruck. Yes, the games were all produced in China and ran on devices that were perhaps less polished than those from Atari or Nintendo, but just the idea that Syrian kids had access to video games had never occurred to him.
As a mother, reading scenes like this broke my heart. It would be easy to paint the elder Sattouf as a narcissistic monster who cared little for his child’s wellbeing. Yet, Sattouf tries to portray a man who deeply loves his children and is at a loss as to how to reunite his family. Like the Nobel prize winners of great literature, Sattouf remains remarkably objective, attempting to produce characters who are neither all good or all bad.
The saddest aspect of the story, Fadi’s gradual assimilation, is also the child’s saving grace. The biographic tale is told in the first person, from Fadi’s point of view. He alternates between desperate longing for his mother, anger with his father, and joyful bouts of play with new friends and relatives. After only a year, the 7-year-old can no longer recognize or speak French. He grows up relying on a deceptive father to transmit his latest comings and goings to his mother and brothers in France. Similarly, he must depend on his father’s interpretations of letters and phone calls from his French family.
Sattouf’s frames manage to convey some of this linguistic disconnect. For example, when Fadi first arrives in Syria, he can’t understand Arabic. As a result, he has no idea what his father is telling relatives about his sudden appearance. The reader is also excluded from these exchanges but is hardly left clueless. As the elder Sattouf visits the homes of close relatives with Fadi in tow, arguments inevitably ensue. Each family member appears outraged with the father, while at the same time showering the boy with loving embraces and mouth-watering treats.
The Fickleness of Humor
In interviews, Riad Sattouf is an immediately likable character. The award-winning author has a gentle, unassuming manner and an endearing sense of humor. He engagingly articulates the traumas he and his family members have experienced while simultaneously making light of them. He speaks as if he’s woven as much humor into Fadi’s story as he wove into his own.
« La vie se trouve entre l’effroi et l’hilarité. »
— Riad Sattouf
“Life lies between terror and hilarity.”
— Riad Sattouf
While I treasure this latest book as much as I did L’Arabe du Futur, I had difficulty finding humor in its pages. The story is fascinating but as a parent, the grief and loss caused by the family’s division dominated nearly every moment of the narrative. People are resilient and Sattouf believes that some scenes are more painful for the reader than they were for Fadi, who found a way to cope and make the best of his situation. But while reading, I could rarely let go of the father’s cruel insensitivity long enough to crack a smile.
That said, I’m sure that any fan of L’Arabe du Futur will greatly appreciate this latest episode. A release date for the English version has not been announced. If you’re reading this Riad, and are looking for an enthusiastic translator, look no further. Ha!
I’ll come back to your post when I have read the book – to keep all the surprises!
I read all his previous books with one of my Frech students, and we are planning on reading this one soon as well. I saw the author talk about it at la Grande Librairie, he’s really great
Cool! One if these days I’ll get serious about gaining access to French TV. I’m eager to learn what you think.
Syria had changed in unexpected ways since Riad’s departure
This is a common experience of people from the West visiting most of what we used to call the “Third World”. They generally have an outdated picture of it. Most of those countries have come much further in catching up than Westerners realize. I wonder what he thinks now, though, after Syria’s cities have been laid in ruins by years of religious civil war.
It’s impossible to know without directly experiencing his family situation, but I wonder if his attempt to put a more benign spin on his father’s character has a touch of wishful thinking about it. The man’s actions were not those of a benign or loving person. One can feel very reluctant to acknowledge wickedness in a parent.
True. Most people don’t picture skyscrapers when they think of Nairobi, especially Americans. Sattouf’s case is a little different because not that much time had passed between when he and his brother lived in the same village. I’m estimating about 6 years. When Riad was there, his modest toy collection was the envy of his Syrian playmates.
You could be right about Sattouf’s view of the father. I doubt his mother’s spin would be as objective. Sattouf has also been telling her side of the story in weekly segments that appear in a French magazine. I hope those are eventually compiled into a book.
That is clever, and the mix of cultures really intrigues me.
Sattouf’s biographical works are extremely eye-opening. The family also lived in Libya. I wish more people, especially our political leaders, read books like this. Not necessarily graphic novels (although that might get them to read) but personal accounts of life in Middle Eastern countries. They’d then understand why, despite the billions invested, our government has done little to improve the lives of Middle Eastern people. If anything, it’s made conditions worse.
Maybe Sattouf, or someone like him, could do a graphic novel on the US/UK overthrow of the nascent democracy in Iran in 1953, which led to the 1979 revolution and all the subsequent horrors.
I doubt our soon-to-be president would read such works, though. As Bill Maher said, “he gets bored halfway through a fortune cookie”.
Stay tuned. Something similar to what you suggest is in my reading queue. And yes, I suspect Maher’s characterization isn’t that much of an exaggeration unless the fortune cookie is singing the reader’s praises.
I’ve noted before your appreciation of Sattouf’s work. I think he is a good example of people from the middle east who have adapted well in Europe. Let us just hope that Syria will go on the right direction.
Be good Carol
Truly. I hope Syrians can learn from other revolutions that have taken place in the region and avoid the path of extremism.
Hope so but I very much doubt it…