Paris, 1960. My story started well enough. I was in high school at the Lycée de Sèvres. I was about to turn 17. It was the time of pinball machines, the conquest of space, rock and roll and vinyl records.
The Algerian war of independence had been part of our lives since we were in primary school, and as time went by it became an ever-more substantial presence.
Set against a background of violence, with the massacre of Algerians during the nights of 17 to 20 October right in the heart of Paris, the terrorist attacks by the French Secret Armed Organization (OAS) on French soil, and the thousands of youths that, most often against their will, were drafted into one of the last colonial wars, the narrator of this story, Maryse Douek, tells us how she landed in the tragic events of the Charonne metro station...
The Algerian war of independence had been part of our lives since we were in primary school, and as time went by it became an ever-more substantial presence.
Set against a background of violence, with the massacre of Algerians during the nights of 17 to 20 October right in the heart of Paris, the terrorist attacks by the French Secret Armed Organization (OAS) on French soil, and the thousands of youths that, most often against their will, were drafted into one of the last colonial wars, the narrator of this story, Maryse Douek, tells us how she landed in the tragic events of the Charonne metro station...