Algerian Writer Said Khatibi Wins Prestigious Arabic Fiction Prize
Said Khatibi, an Algerian writer, has recently been awarded the prestigious Arabic Fiction Prize, also known as the "Arabic Booker Prize," in April 2026. His novel, "Oughalibou majra annahr" (I Fight Against the River's Current), begins with a crime and explores the collective memory of Algeria. We had the opportunity to meet him at the Tunis International Book Fair.
Q: Is this your first visit to the Tunis International Book Fair?
A: Yes, it is. The atmosphere is very welcoming and familial. There are many visitors, people who read, and I'm very happy to be here.
Q: Your novel opens with a crime, but it soon becomes clear that it's about more than just a police mystery. Was the crime a pretext to explore deeper themes?
A: Yes, there was a crime, but it wasn't against an individual. It was a crime against History, against a country. It's not just about the body that was discovered and which starts the novel. We live in a time where violence is everywhere: a violent world, a violent History. I come from a difficult time, the Black Decade. The question I asked myself before starting this novel was not what happened during the Black Decade, but why we ended up there.
Q: This is a recurring theme in your work. Do you feel that it's the responsibility of writers to revisit significant periods in History?
A: I survived the Black Decade. I almost died twice. I think this is the subject I know best. I see life through the prism of violence. I would have liked to be like other writers, but I don't know how to write about love, I don't know how to write about intimate relationships. I know how to dissect the theme of violence, understand and explain its mechanism in human life. The question isn't to testify, but to explain what violence is and where it comes from.
Q: There's a strong symbolic dimension to your novel. The protagonist is an ophthalmologist, and her husband is a forensic pathologist. What impact do these elements have on the story?
A: It's mainly the idea of blindness. Stealing the corneas of the dead to give sight to the living refers to what we lacked in Algeria at the beginning of the 1990s. We didn't see things coming. We were struck by blindness. It's not just a political issue, but a blindness of the mind.
Q: There's a lot of work on style in the novel. How do you balance suspense and narrative tension with poetic descriptions and introspections?
A: I always start with a foundational book, for me, in Arabic and world literature, which is "One Thousand and One Nights." For me, it's a police novel. From the beginning, we discover the king who marries a woman every day and kills her the next day. We're faced with a serial killer. The most important novel by Naguib Mahfouz is "The Thief and the Dogs." There's also Youssef Idriss, Taoufik Hakim... We have a great tradition of crime literature in Arabic literature. There was then a break. I'm part of the tradition of Arabic literature. I draw inspiration from the classics. I think Arabic literature is the founder of police novels before they were exported to the West and then re-imported.
Q: The novel also explores the condition of women, and it seems like you're taking the side of women. Is this one of the main objectives of your novel?
A: My fellow writers sometimes feel ashamed to name things as they are. I'm a feminist, which may seem paradoxical. I've learned a lot from women, they've helped me in life, and I'm grateful to them. That's why there are always women in my novels, strong, educated, who change and can change the world. I'm always on the side of women, even if they make mistakes.
Q: You've received many literary prizes before the Booker Prize. What does this new prize bring to your career as a writer?
A: People are happy in Algeria, as if we'd won the African Cup. But now I'm under the spotlight. The public will follow me, and I have to continue in the same vein, write other beautiful novels, or they'll think I won the prize by chance. I have to prove that I deserved it, and that adds more responsibility.
Q: Your novel is widely distributed beyond Algerian borders. How do you feel about speaking about Algeria to readers who know little about its past, particularly when addressing its darkest aspects?
A: A writer is a spokesperson, whether they like it or not. I don't like playing this role. I only speak about myself. People believe in writers who see the future more than they believe in politicians who only see the present. When I attend conferences abroad, people ask me about Algeria. It's another responsibility to be the spokesperson for the memory of my country, its future, and I think Algeria will do better when writers do better.
