In the 1980s, a group of people that French society sent back to the periphery finally took the floor and embarked on the literary world: Mehdi Charef, born in Algeria, arrived at the age of ten in France, published in 1983 his novel Le thé au harem d’Archi Ahmed, becoming a pioneer that other descendants of North African immigrants will subsequently follow in this adventure. For these atypical authors, breaking with the canon, writing has become the chance to become visible, chance that the country where they were born far from the land of their ancestors or which they joined in during their early childhood, never gave them. Thus, individuals from North African immigration (whether «economic» or «political») have seized the opportunity to say all the ill-being that their families who had chosen years earlier to leave the village in search for a dreamed Eldorado and who found themselves marginalized and stigmatized by a society that wanted to keep them away, and subsequently themselves, as heirs to uprooting, have lived and continue to live. In their literary writings, these “intrangers” writers will often give voice to two major types of characters: parents and children. The parents represent the “first generation” immigrants; the fathers arrived first in France; they then brought their wives and children born on the other side of the Mediterranean; they were sure that one day they would go back the other way, but, unfortunately, that return was always postponed until it was lost sight of. The children, for their part, lead their painful lives under the sign of alienation; whether they were born in the Maghreb or in France, they are from nowhere, they are neither entirely Maghrebi nor entirely French, hence an incessant quest for identity that is heartbreaking. These two categories of characters – parents and children – because of their intraor extra-terrestrial origin will have a singular relationship (most of the time) with the village. In our contribution, we propose to analyse the two turning points of this report, namely bleophilia and bleophobia, these responses to exile arising in particular from the status of the characters (parents or children), their connection to the land of the ancestors (birth, childhood, regular stays) and their relationship to the land “host country” (adaptation, rejection, cradle). Without being properly exiled, forced for political, ideological or religious reasons to leave their “matrie”, the protagonists (parents and children) novels from Maghrebian immigration all live a painful, sometimes exhausting, exile experience. Far from their home country or the land of their origin, they generally relate to it in two ways. On the one hand, there are those who remain strongly attached to their homeland or who carry it in their hearts as unalterable inheritance transmitted by their parents; they dream of the great return, which they succeed in accomplishing (sometimes only after their death) or not; they so venerate this distant land that they end up becoming unaware of the passing of time and the transformations (even alterations) that all that has remained there (objects, people) suffered. On the other hand, there are those who, for different reasons, want to erase their memories, who are striving (at all costs) to detach themselves from a stormy past, a hostile country (even enemy) to which nothing connects them except contempt, fear or disgust. To illustrate these two possible resolutions in the face of « exilience » - bledophilia and « bledophobia » - we rely on the novels Méchamment berbère by Minna Sif (1997), Mohand, le harki by Hadjila Kemoum (2003), Kiffe kiffe demain by Faïza Guène (2004), Pieds-Blancs by Houda Rouane (2006) and Un homme, ça ne pleure pas by Faïza Guène (2014).