"I kidnapped Kim Kardashian", testosterone and missed thriller

With "I Kidnapped Kim Kardashian", we obviously didn't expect a feminist thriller. But also not its exact opposite: a macho story that had so much more to say.

Fortunately, Kim Kardashian has beauty, wealth and power on her side, because what does it put in her face … Like this book, released on February 4, 2021 and soberly titled I kidnapped Kim Kardashian (archipelago ed.). His author ? Yunice Abbas, one of the gang members "papis", to use his words and those of the journalists he loathes, authors of the heist of the Kardashian jewelry in October 2016. A great idea than to make a book, less to promote it with a bang, knowing that we will return to the closet soon (Yunice Abbas is awaiting the date of his trial at the Assizes) and that Kim K. herself Said she was extremely traumatized by the case – at first she believed she was an attempted rape, then she was going to be killed.

Animator, Model

born 21/10/1980


There are some criticisms to be made about this book that everyone is talking about. First, to be a first-person story that, if kept crisp, is uncomfortable. Here, the stolen star is told by his robber, but only through extracts from the press, and never to see himself humanized. After all, isn't she to Yunice Abbas a bimbo with no other interest than her nest egg? There are also his clichés worthy of the most old-fashioned thrillers: the delinquents of yesteryear who had real values ​​and not just croquignette names like "the Pince", the cops and thugs who are made of the same wood (the one we made of real men), the "big cops" who are equaled only by the "big bandits" … Men, again and again, told with a catchy style but not really of his century. Yet there was material for another story, that of a class struggle in the 2000s version, which manages to spring between the pages of the book.

Under the buzz, the misery

Too bad that the editor of Yunice Abbas has chosen the bias of bling, which sparkles from the golden cover on a black background with additional false diams'. Because once you get rid of all the buzzers from the book today (a it girl, money and an inescapable passage at Hanouna), its author depicts a dark reality: that of the misery which eats away the less fortunate, the unpaid bills which screw up small businesses, the sons of Maghreb immigrants who miss a brilliant father but obliged to kill themselves laying rails.
In the late 1970s, Yunice Abbas ran a small radio accessory assembly business. To face the debts, he scams and the justice hits him hard, as she knows so well with blue collar delinquency. He also describes the hell of the jail in the homeland of human rights, a bit like the wife, too, who will end up plucked after the final police raid, and her meager savings seized, but never returned.

Yunice Abbas sows, according to the book and like pearls escaping from his robber's bag, moments of life in shades of gray, unfortunately drowned between two virilist projections (this nice pimp who sets foot in the stirrup of delinquency, this braco buddy that we love because"he has balls", the TV show of the star called "rosewater nanar"...). Too bad, we suddenly miss the real subject: if Kim Kardashian, daughter of a lawyer and multimillionaire, and Yunice Abbas, the mechanic born in Clichy-sous-Bois, evolve on the same planet, they will never belong to the same world. Denouncing this violence required giving up its share of the buzz. But it had to be that to touch the cake.