When journalist and August Prize–winner Nina van den Brink thinks back on the books that left a mark on her, one slim novel keeps returning like an echo: Ett hus på randen till tårar (A House on the Edge of Tears) by the Lebanese-French writer Vénus Khoury-Ghata. It’s just 130 pages long, but, as Nina remembers, it felt large enough to hold not only the struggles of one family in 1950s Lebanon but also the weight of a nation’s fault lines.
What stayed with her wasn’t only the story—it was the language. Every sentence in Khoury-Ghata’s book feels sharpened, alive, dangerous. Words here don’t just describe life; they interfere with it.
Words That Cut and Heal
The novel is steeped in images that sting. A father wishes to bury his son while he’s still breathing. A mother seasons her salads not just with herbs, but with “tears.” In Khoury-Ghata’s hands, speech itself becomes almost physical—knife, wound, shield, balm.
Language in this book is not a transparent vehicle. It is the battlefield.
Between Two Tongues
One of the novel’s most gripping threads is how it captures life lived between languages. French—the polished, proper voice of ambition and education—rubs against Arabic, with its earthy images and the rhythms of home. The mother’s hybrid “franbanesian,” a braid of both tongues, embodies shame, longing, and the push and pull of class.
Instead of being a source of richness, this duality becomes unsettling—a constant negotiation. Which language defines you? Which tongue betrays where you come from? And who decides?
The Memory of Style
Nina van den Brink first encountered the book in her twenties. What struck her then, and still does now, is how Khoury-Ghata shows that people are drawn—or even carved—by the words they use. The choice between French or Arabic isn’t just about vocabulary. It’s about identity, status, survival. Words become actions. Words become fate.
Why It Matters Now
Today, more people than ever straddle languages—switching between dialects at home, texting in borrowed slang, shifting voice depending on who’s listening. Khoury-Ghata anticipated this restless in-betweenness.
Her novel asks timeless questions:
- Who are we, when our very selves are stitched together from borrowed words?
- Which language do we trust to say “love,” and which do we reach for to say “anger”?
- Do we control the words we use—or do they, in the end, control us?
For Khoury-Ghata, language is not just conversation. It is inheritance. It is class. It is emotion. And at its darkest, it is the thread that can both tether and tear a family apart.
What to Know
- The Author: Vénus Khoury-Ghata, Lebanese-French poet and novelist.
- The Book: Ett hus på randen till tårar (A House on the Edge of Tears), 130 pages, translated into Swedish by Mats Löfgren.
- The Heart of It: A fractured family in 1950s Lebanon, where every sentence tests how language shapes identity, belonging, and power.
- The Takeaway: For Nina van den Brink, the novel is a haunting, unforgettable reminder that we become who we are through words.
✨ So here’s a question Nina’s reflection leaves with us: Which language—or dialect—has shaped you the most?
