French-Algerian author Xavier Le Clerc’s A Man With No Title, translated from the French by William Rodarmor, explores Le Clerc’s father’s journey into France, specifically around themes of identity and poverty. Walking the line between novel and memoir, this book also reflects on the father-son relationship, especially in light of Le Clerc’s own experiences of racism.
The author famously made headlines following the release of the original French edition in 2022 for changing his name into the more European “Xavier Le Clerc,” which some read as “betraying his roots and identity.” Le Clerc, however, made a point about losing out on jobs due to his African-sounding birthname. That he received an influx of job offers following the change underscores his claim about France’s history of racism towards many migrants in the country. This conflict around his name speaks to the prominent themes of A Man With No Title.
Le Clerc’s father Mohand-Saïd Aït-Taleb moved to France, haunted by memories of the war in Algeria, and worked in a metal factory in Normandy. He worked for survival—for his family to be able to join him in France. Even when he suffered injuries and was overworked, he still prevailed to support his family. Many of these factories were dedicated to rebuilding France after the Second World War, but they did not pay nearly enough for Aït-Taleb to provide for his wife and nine children. But Aït-Taleb rarely told his children about these harsh experiences, leaving Le Clerc to use his memories and imagination to tell this story.
Little Mohand-Saïd, who had only known men ground down by poverty, never asked himself whether life was worth living. His face may have clenched when he bore heavy loads, but his heart remained light thanks to a bird: a nightingale from the forest where he had gathered wood along the acorns to eat. … The enchantment allowed him to survive—unless he had made up the story to comfort me. (25–26)
While recollecting his father’s dedication in moving his family to France, Le Clerc also examines his own experiences in his home and community. He was made fun of for reading, writing poetry, his voice, and his (then assumed) sexuality. He was even accused of being an adopted son.
Aït-Taleb was forced into early retirement in 1992 from the factory’s closure, and Le Clerc was employed at a young age by lying about his real age. Even when Le Clerc was taking care of himself financially and living on his own, his father still didn’t speak much. But Aït-Taleb also took comfort in the fact that Le Clerc was doing okay.
In truth, I had never experienced him as other than preoccupied. But this time, he felt really abstracted, lost in some other country, in some other era. And there was nothing peaceful about his silence. It was more like a silent scream by Munch, echoing not on a bridge but from behind a thick wall, which his reserve only strengthened. (97)
Being physically removed from his immediate family allowed Le Clerc to explore his own identity and pursue what he really wanted to do: writing. Even though Le Clerc’s journey to self-realization isn’t the main point of A Man With No Title, writing this book seems to reconnect Le Clerc with his father. Le Clerc doesn’t need his father to talk to him in order to have compassion for him.
Mohand-Saïd Aït-Taleb once had no title besides a nametag from the factory, but now, he has a book as a beautiful tribute to him.
There is something so lovely and simultaneously heartbreaking about this book and how it navigates its topics. Call it a memoir or a novel—the genre is fluid—but the reflection of Aït-Taleb’s life is incredibly moving. While reading, I was reminded of the concept of “making a name for oneself,” which I believe pairs smoothly with family and identity. His father was certainly not perfect, but Le Clerc delicately finds titles and descriptions for Aït-Taleb while reminiscing on their lives.
One of my favorite aspects of this book is how it represents queerness. Le Clerc’s queerness is no doubt an important part of his identity and is scattered throughout the book, while primarily maintaining focus on his father. He shares, for instance, that he recevied hateful messages when his sexuality was discovered, but this remains tied to the larger story about family.
I chose to accept who I was and to refuse pretense… In the intoxication of being twenty and swept up by my reading, I hoped to live in the light of day, in joy, refusing submission, shackles, and conformity. (104)
To call this book invigorating would be an understatement, for A Man With No Title is so much more than that. It’s a heartfelt tribute to a father who endured more than he revealed in silence. It is not only a powerful perspective of the immigrants who worked in extreme conditions, but it also is a celebration of the life Mohand-Saïd Aït-Taleb lived.
A Man With No Title comes out April 1, 2025. Pre-order your copy here!
COMMENTS -
Reader Interactions