Lets go back a few years before the fall of communism in the former Soviet Union, when I was on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, in whatever state is most opposite that of grace, utterly ignorant, recently fired, watching my dog die in an apartment on 77th Street and Columbus Avenue...
While every romance of the conventional style ends in a wedding, this history treats of the common experience of all unhappy couples, whose bonds do not link them to sources of love, delight, support, succour, or any of the deep wells they expected when they bound themselves together.
Even when you hear bad news face to face, you dont hear it; you overhear it, that is, you hear yourself repeating what you heard.
This is the story of Mimoun, son of Driouch, son of Allal, son of Mohammed, son of Mohand, son of Bouziane, whom we shall simply call Mimoun. It is his story and the story of the last of the great patriarchs who make up the long chain of Driouchs forbears. Every single one lived, acted and intervened in the lives of those around them as firmly as the great figures in the Bible.