Comic Relief: a review of Joe Sacco's PALESTINE

Sacco, Joe. Palestine. London: Jonathan Cape. 2003. Print.

I am not a fan of Sacco's style of illustrating. The pictures and people look ugly. That being said, he knows what he is doing. His graphic collection is a hard and honest glimpse into the lives of Palestinians living in camps and elsewhere in the occupied land. It's tough. The stories are tough, and he truly portrays the realities of life there. It's nothing to be shot, go to prison, be beaten, have two sons killed, to have your olive trees cut down because a soldier thinks someone threw a rock from your field. Speaking of rocks, there were plenty in this book and in the stories. Sacco manages to portray through his settings, the realism of harsh landscape, pitted roads, no sewage, and above all, the intensely dense flurry and fury of overcrowding and overpopulation. And still, there is a balance between horror and hospitality, homelessness and home. Sacco never lets the reader forget he is an outsider, as he clearly identifies himself as a reporter looking for the story. As a good journalist, he actually delivers a balanced POV and reliable feature narration. Even though I don't like his style, I'll read more of his work. It's interesting and necessary. I highly recommend it to anyone who wants to be better informed about crises, current and past, in the Middle East.

"The Boys." PALESTINE, pp. 190-191

For more about the author, check out his author page.

Early Signs of Genius: a review of MARGARET ATWOOD, SELECTED POEMS 1965-1975

As the title clearly states, this is a selection of Atwood's poetry from her early years. It includes selections from previously published works, THE CIRCLE GAME (1966), THE ANIMALS IN THAT COUNTRY (1968), THE JOURNALS OF SUSANNA MOODIE (1970), PROCEDURES FOR UNDERGROUND (1970), POWER POLITICS (1971) and YOU ARE HAPPY (1974). 

The first few books were a bit too intimate for me. Many of the poems seemed like they are direct comments on her relationships with men, and it was just a bit too revealing. It made me uncomfortable, but that's what good poets should do. She does quite clearly establish herself as a feminist writer, themes which are soon to emerge in many of her novels.

The pace started to pick up a bit in THE JOURNALS OF SUSANNA MOODIE. I was pleasantly surprised that she had essentially written a verse novel. And this might be one of the earliest examples of this narrative structure. The voice of the poems progresses over time, as Susanna encounters life in new and unexpected ways. 

My favorites were the last two series of selections, ARE YOU HAPPY, being one of the best. Perhaps I was influenced because I've recently read THE PENELOPIAD and loved it. The last cycle in the book is a series of "Circe/Mud Poems". I was fascinated to read all the themes and foreshadowings in these poems that quite clearly informed her interpretation of THE ODYSSEY. 

Having familiarized myself with her novels, it was a joy to read her early work. The best thing about reading it was getting to know her in another context. It's quite clear that she has matured as a writer and developed her ideas into her body of work over time, while remaining true to herself and the beliefs she holds dearly.

Desert Stories for Today

Al-Koni, Ibrahim. The Puppet: a Novel. Trans. William M. Hutchins. Austin, TX: Center for Middle Eastern Studies, 2010.

At 113 pages, The Puppet should be listed as “a book you can read in a day,” but it’s not. The book is the second book in The Saharan Oasis trilogy by Libyan writer Ibrahim Al-Koni. The New Waw, the first of the series, has garnered the American Literary Translation Association’s 2015 National Translation Award for translator William H. Hutchins, and Al-Koni has been longlisted as one of only 9 for the 2015 Man Book Prize. The Puppet is the second, and The Scarecrow ends the series; however, the books do not need to be read in order to make sense.

Al-Koni writes in a stream of consciousness style that is influenced by his Tuareg heritage, his university years studying comparative literature in Russia, journalist years in Poland, and finally his settling down in Switzerland. The Puppet is a unique blend of ancient story that draws on motifs that are quite applicable to modern times. Al-Koni explores the values of nomadic life against the dangers of complacency once a people decides to settle for life in an oasis. A world of duality and irony ensues, where both sages and vassels are willing to sacrifice personal freedom and wisdom for gold and commerce that ultimately enslaves them. Intertwined with their political maneuverings, a love story between a vassal and a beautiful maiden tells a story older than time, between men and women, between the desert and its people, revealing the chthonic duality of passion and annihilation, life and death.

When the people demanded a leader, I was reminded of the warning Samuel, the last judge of Israel, the last mouthpiece direct from God, gives to the Israelites when they demand a king. Life will change. You don’t know what price you will truly pay in asking for a human ruler. The divine will have its day.

I was reminded of The Sibyl by Swedish writer Par Lagerkvist who had a lifelong interest in gods and the relationship of the human to the divine. I was also reminded of Hesse who explored the duality of human nature, how as man moves further away from nature, he moves further away from himself.

Al-Koni eloquently captures the ease of surrender to nature, “You must relax and give your body totally to the water if you want to stay afloat. In the desert, too, arrogant people who act obstinately succumb. In the dessert those who think they have been granted enormous knowledge and who therefore debate and resist will perish. The desert takes vengeance on this group with its labyrinth. The other group, those who surrender control to the wasteland and seek the desert’s protection against the desert, survives.”

Al-Koni’s storytelling is particular to his time and tradition, but applies to any traveler, any people. Should we fight? Should we succumb? Should we live ethically? These questions are not answered. Only what must be considered. No, the book is not a short read at all. It demands another.

Behind Closed Doors in Amman

Four women and one man in modern-day Amman find their narratives intersect because, although Amman is a big city, it’s still a small world.

Zaghmout, Fadi. The Bride of Amman. Trans. Ruth Ahmedzai Kemp. Hong Kong: Signal 8 Media, 2015. ISBN: 9789881219893

WARNING:  For mature audiences only—graphic content.

Salma, unmarried at 30, fights against the stereotype of the Jordanian spinster, while her sister Leila is about to have it all—a degree, a career and a handsome and wealthy husband.  Her husband, Ali, has a dark secret he keeps well hidden.  Hayat, who knows Leila, has dark family secrets of her own, meets Samir who knows Ali’s secret.  Should she tell Leila or should they all be worried about their Christian friend Rana who has run off to Sweden with her Circassian boyfriend? 

This book was publicized as social commentary, and I began reading it as such.  As such, it bored me.  I didn’t care much for the voices I was hearing as their problems sounded shallow and self-obsessed.  I was drawn into the novel, however, bit by bit as the stories began to intertwine and the connections between the characters became more complicated.  Then, I was able to understand the complexities of the Jordanian families and friends I have met in Amman at a much more intimate level than I have previously understood.  Life isn’t easy in Amman, infamously known for the “Amman scowl,” but this book helps the reader understand how difficult it is for some modern Jordanians to put on a brave face and smile. 

Is the book a masterpiece of literary achievement? I don’t think so.  Is it enjoyable reading? Definitely, yes.  Does it pass the test of helping the reader step into someone else’s shoes and walk around in them? Definitely.  On that basis, it’s worth the 4 hours it takes to go through it.  

Next step, meet the author.  Fadi Zaghmout, where are you?  I want to have coffee.

Fadi's Blog: https://thearabobserver.wordpress.com/

It's a Small World

I have been waiting for this book to come out in English since 2012 when it won the International Prize for Arabic Fiction. Finally, finally, I received the English translation, made possible because of the prize.

Al Sanousi, Saud. The Bamboo Stalk. Trans by Jonathan Wright. Doha: Bloomsbury Qatar Foundation Publishing, 2015.
ISBN 9789927101779

Having lived in Kuwait for 8 years, I was intensely curious to see how a Kuwaiti man would tell the story of a boy whose father was Kuwaiti and whose mother, although the two were legally married, was still the result of the father's union with the family's Filipina maid.

As it turns out, Al Sanousi's tale is realistic, believable, and as heart-breaking as I thought it would be. Afraid of the shame the half-blood child will bring to the family name, the father is forced by his domineering mother to send the mother and son packing back to the islands, shortly before he goes missing in the 1990 invasion.

Jose grows up, fatherless in his motherland, never quite feeling complete, always dreaming of the day his father will make good on his promise to raise him as his legitimate Kuwaiti heir.

When that time arrives, Jose becomes Isa Al Tarouf, and is literally caught in the net of the Tarouf family reputation. What ensues is a Juvenalian satire of the state of class and race relations in Kuwait. Al Sanousi creates a microcosm of the microcosm that is Kuwait--with the bad, as well as so much that is good.

It is a first novel, so perhaps some of its elements are a bit contrived. For example, the attempt to connect the colonization of the Philippines to the lack of father figures, is a bit of a stretch, but it does ultimately work for the "islands" part of the story as it resolves. The main motif, the titular "bamboo stalk" is made a bit too obvious in places.

However, the historical backdrop and discussion of Bidoon and Kuwaiti politics from 2006-2008 was dead-on accurate, as I was teaching during those years and remember those elections quite well.

Was I surprised at the outcome of the novel? No. No, I wasn't.

Was I disappointed? Yes, I was.

Oh, Kuwait. You are a small world, indeed, as the book so clearly reminds us. I wish the novel would become required reading for all students in Kuwait; however, I fear the opposite may be more likely to happen. Tongues wag. Reputation is more important than money.

It's Not Always So Bright

Violet has been shrinking since, well, a tragedy occurred in her life about a year prior to the introduction of this story. Now, she is a confused and lonely HS Senior, drifting from clique to family, contemplating suicide. Enter Finch.

Niven, Jennifer. All the Bright Places. London: Penguin, 2015. 

The description of the book as "The Fault in Our Stars meets Eleanor and Park" is completely misleading. The protagonist of this story is Violet, who has been shrinking since, well, a tragedy occurred in her life about a year prior to the introduction of this story. Now, Violet is a confused and lonely HS Senior, drifting from clique to family, contemplating suicide. Enter Finch who finds her while he's contemplating the same thing on the ledge of the school bell tower. Finch is the handsome antagonist who quite literally steals the plot. He has bipolar disorder--all the joys and euphoria associated with it, but also the despair and hollowness it leaves in its wake, not to mention the anxiety and neuropathy in between. 

The book has nothing to do with star-crossed lovers, nothing to do with fate. It's about the roller-coaster ride that is bipolar. I'm on the fence about recommending it because I believe teens who experience suicidal thoughts should read more about the effects on the victims left behind. Focusing on the euphoria of highs or the eccentricities of the lows of bipolar tends to depersonalize, stereotype or even glorify the disorder in a way that trivializes the disease as a moral lesson from which shrinking Violets must learn.

Heroines in Hejabs: THE GREEN BICYCLE by Haifaa Al Mansour

When you have a goal, you go for it.  Wadjda wants a bicycle. This wouldn't be that big a deal, except for the fact that she's a girl. And she lives in present-day Saudi Arabia.  Will she be able to make her dream come true?

The Green Bicycle by Haifaa Al Mansour

Wow! The Green Bicycle was published in September 2015, after the very successful 2012 feature film Wadjda garnered world-wide respect for Haifaa Al Mansour, the first female director to come from Saudi Arabia.  Sometimes I make the mistake of setting my expectations for a long-awaited book too high, but this book did not disappoint me.  In fact, Al Mansour captures every facet of a middle-class, working woman’s world in Saudi (reading this brought me right back to my eight years in Kuwait).  The tendency for Westerners to think of all Saudis as oil rich snobs or overflowing with new money has got to be stopped.  Increasing exposure to Western culture often sends middle-class Muslim girls mixed messages that a coming of age story is perfectly suited to deal with.  Wadjda’s struggles to remain independent are innocent, but also become more weighty as they begin to affect those around her—her family, her friends, her classmates, and mostly, her own sense of being.  The theme of Wadjda’s struggle to find herself is very much echoed in the subplot of her mother’s struggle to be a woman of independent means in a patriarchal society where both men and women suffer because of cultural and moral restrictions placed upon them.  For example, Wadjda’s mother is forced to teach at a school two hours from home because teaching in an all-girls school is one of the only acceptable professions for Saudi women and local positions are flooded. So she and 8 other completely-covered female teachers must endure a two-hour drive to and fro on a crazy-dangerous desert highway, in a van with no A/C, driven by a surly Pakistani man who is her social inferior due to his illegal immigration status but who  feels he can berate her because she is a woman. There is also the tense relationship between Wadjda’s mother and father.  What happens when a Saudi woman cannot bear a son?

What superstitions would keep a girl from riding a bicycle in the first place?  Everything about this book was so real—the streets, the empty lots, the dust, the political elections. The longing of Wadjda’s mother to break social norms, but her reluctance to do so because of social tradition. The principal of the school, Ms Hussa, with her designer clothes, high heels and sense of self-importance, the attitudes of the girls in Wadjda’s school.  Seriously, I felt like I was right back in the Gulf. 

I don’t think, as some critics have said, that Al Mansour seeks to cast Saudi in a bad light.  She is showing it with ethos and pathos. She completely honors Koran.  The plots are beautifully woven, and shine brightest in the moment that Wadjda and her mother recite Koran which brings them together, “And of His Signs is that He creates for you mates out of yourselves, so that you may find tranquility in them; and He has put love and mercy between you.” This is beautiful, and Al Mansour turns a traditional male-female dynamic on its head by reinterpreting it as an unbreakable and triumphant bond between a mother and a daughter. 

Vital Stats:

Al Mansour, Haifaa. The Green Bicycle. London: Puffin, 2015. ISBN: 978-0-141-35668-6 

Read the book or watch the movie.  Either one would be a positive experience.

Movie trailer here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3koigluYOH0