by Eric Chacour
Eric Chacour’s What I Know About You has been widely lauded in French. It is a tale of forbidden love that is beautifully written and emotionally devastating. It explores themes of identity, repression, love, and the invisible boundaries of social and familial expectations.
Set against the backdrop of post-Nasser Egypt in the 1980s where homosexuality is seen as a “joke” and “a Western perversion,” as characters in the novel suggest, it follows Tarek, who is a respected doctor working in a poor Coptic neighborhood in Cairo. Following in his father’s footsteps, not because he wants to but because he has to, Tarek has a reputation to uphold. He forms a surprising friendship with Ali, who is 15 years younger than him and becomes his assistant at the clinic. Their relationship slowly becomes a romantic affair, which is a source of significant conflict, considering the homophobia of the time, and also because Tarek is married to a woman, whom he loves and respects.
Chacour creates a world where queerness is the presence of absence. Tarek and Ali’s relationship is fraught with emotional absences—both know they cannot stay with each other, but they also know there is no other way. The absence of family is another sore point—there is no love or support from Tarek’s family. His life is boxed in by duty, shame, and a cultural silence that is oppressively brutal. His attempts to carve out moments of freedom and love are poignant and ultimately heartbreaking. Chacour creates a queer love story that reads less as a testament to love than a tale of silences and absences that repression can wreak.
The use of second-person perspective makes it all the more devastating. While “you” feels ornamental at the beginning, it slowly transitions into the first-person “I”, which makes it more personal and meaningful. It adds an almost voyeuristic feel to the intimate story, as if we are looking in behind closed doors. It also adds to the feeling that Tarek is under constant social surveillance—that someone is always watching, and his behavior and choices must fit within the confines of social expectations.
Chacour has written a quiet and introspective queer love story that tackles themes of belonging and self-erasure. He critiques classism in a society where conformity is enforced not only by institutions but also by one’s own loved ones. I highly recommend this book—it is a brief read but leaves a lasting impact.