I think there is something about the French that must make them a little more open to exploring the past. “Algeria is Beautiful Like America” is the third or fourth graphic novel I’ve read that features women of French descent going on a pilgrimage to seek out their roots in former French colonies. But Oliva Burton’s thorough documentation of her journey to Algiers and her family’s holdings in the remote Aurés, does more than just explore a history. It actively confronts some of the fallout of colonialism, along the complex emotions of a family whose history was built on the bones of that flawed system.
Written by Olivia BurtonCover by Mahi Grand
Illustrated by Mahi Grand
Translated by Edward GauvinOlivia had always heard stories about Algeria from her maternal grandmother, a Black Foot (a “Pied-Noir,” the French term for Christian and Jewish settlers of French Algeria who emigrated to France after the Algerian War of Independence). After her grandmother’s death, Olivia found some of her grandmother’s journals and letters describing her homeland. Now, ten years later, she resolves to travel to Algeria and experience the country for herself; she arrives alone, with her grandmother’s postcards and letters in tow, and a single phone number in her pocket of an Algerian, Djaffar, who will act as her guide. Olivia’s quest to understand her origins will bring her to face questions about heritage, history, shame, friendship, memory, nostalgia, fantasy, the nature of exile, and our unending quest to understand who we are and where we come from.
Going into this book, I knew very little of the history of Algeria, or even the country’s relationship with colonial France, let alone the Algerian War. The opening chapter of “Algeria is Beautiful Like America” does a lot to fill in some of this cultural blind spot. Burton helpful starts with her own lack of knowledge, using her process of discovery to inform the reader of both facts and opinions. This theme is repeated throughout the book, as Burton’s narrative takes us through both her ignorance and her learning process.
“Algeria is Beautiful” is less gauzy than some other memoir-style graphic novels. The first chapter does start in that space, tackling the young Olivia’s thoughts on her family’s lost homestead, shaped first by her parent’s and grandparent’s memories. As her perspective changes with education and exposure to new ideas, the rose-colored glasses come off the text. At the start of chapter two, the reliance on third-person narration drops significantly and we start getting actual dialogue, courtesy of Burton’s recordings of her conversations with her guides and the people she encounters.
The feel is very different than, for example, “Poppies of Iraq,” which kept one foot firmly in the personal memories of the author. Olivia has none of these first-hand experiences, giving her words a kind of distance from the subject matter. That distance makes “Algeria is Beautiful” feel more like a documentary than a memoir. Some of the latter’s tropes are still on display, particularly towards the end of the book as Burton begins to synthesize her experiences with the memories of her mother seeking a piece of land in France that reminds her of Aurés.
Throughout it all, Mahi Grand’s minimal cartooning accompanies us on way. His style is firmly in that space of detailed scenery and less realistic looking humans. The figures Olivia encounters are far from cartoon characterless, but there is a flatness to them that stops well short of photo-realism. In contrast, Grand carefully explores the scenic and architectural detail of the world he’s illustrating.
The vast majority of the pages are entirely in grayscale, but Burton’s photographs from her trip are lovingly reproduced in vibrant, full color. Also present are her camera’s HUD elements, a little detail that reinforces the present tense of the text. There is something very unedited about the combination of the photographs and the detailed dialogue elements. These images evoke the book’s title, comparing the rustic desert hills of Algeria to the mythologized American West. Grand’s style contributes a lot to the documentary sensibilities of the novel, in turn enhancing the more objective lens of Burton’s experiences. These images evoke the book’s title, comparing the rustic desert hills of Algeria to the mythologized American West.
Continued belowAnd I think that is the real strength of “Algeria is Beautiful.” What starts as a somewhat self-indulgent quest to experience her family’s past, becomes something much more salient. As examinations of colonial and post-colonial tensions go, Burton brings a lot of differing and valuable perspectives to the conversation. Her family were Black Foots, ‘native’ French families who had lived in Algeria for generations, and advocated against the independence movements. That identity, wrapped up with all of the connotations of racism, nationalism and a sense of pride, becomes a central struggling point for Burton in the early part of the book. But her experiences in Algeria shift the importance away from the Black Foot label, and point more to the tangibles bits of the legacy her grandparents left in Aurés: a house, deserted farmland and a local proverb.
The people Burton meets on her journey are, by and large, kind, and supportive of her attempts to seek out her ancestry. While there is little discussion of the culpability French civilians in any of the atrocities of the Algerian War, the attitude of the books leans towards one of amiable forgiveness and nostalgia. This is most likely driven by later conflicts in Algeria that Burton chooses to mostly gloss over. There are short scenes of her experiences at several military check points and several conversations about the presence of terror groups operating in the wake of the Algerian Civil War.
Post-colonial history is complicated and the legacies left by colonial empires are different in every nation. Rather than trying to paint these remnants with a broad brush, Burton’s book takes a personal approach that seeks an individual narrative. In doing so, she gives us something truly remarkable; a conversation about these lingering issues that doesn’t get bogged down in nationalist grandstanding, but accurately measures the impact that this single family had on their adopted homeland. “Algeria is Beautiful Like America” doesn’t try to excuse that colonial legacy, nor does it seek to vilify it, and that careful middle ground makes for an excellent piece of graphic non-fiction.
