Archives » Naguib Mahfouz

Heart of the Night by Naguib Mahfouz

American University in Cairo Press, 2011, 101 p. First published as Qalb al-layl, 1975.

Jafaar Ibrahim Sayyid al-Rawi lives as a pauper in the ruins of his grandfather’s house. The novel consists in the telling of his life story to our (unnamed) narrator who occasionally interjects comments to or asks questions of him. Jafaar seeks advice on the possibility of breaking his grandfather’s will in which his fortune was left to a charitable cause known as a waqf, thereby disinheriting Jafaar. Our narrator tells him a waqf cannot be set aside.

There is a knotty history here. Jafar’s father too had been disinherited when he married someone his father deemed unsuitable. Jafaar was the offspring of that union. In adolescence Jafaar had been taken in by his grandfather, a religious man who desired Jafaar to follow a religious life. He had been content with this till of course his life too strayed off-course. Again it was an attraction to a woman which caused the rift. In the end, though, she had gone back to her Bedouin family leaving Jafaar to try to rebuild his life via the (somewhat unmanly to Jafaar’s mind) profession of singer – background only, his voice being not good enough for a leading role.

Jafaar also becomes involved in a project to found a political party based on a concocted ideology that was “the logical heir of Islam, the French Revolution, and the communist revolution,” again something unlikely to recommend him to a traditionalist grandfather.

His conversation with our narrator wanders over life, religion and philosophy. Jafaar at one point says, “There is no ‘truth and fiction,’ but different kinds of truths that vary depending on the phases of life and the quality of the system that helps us become aware of them.” A contention which literary fiction is well-suited to examine.

Pedant’s corner:- “an id ea” (idea,) dumpster (seems to me a not very Egyptian type of description of a refuse container,) “the truth of the matter is that that man was and continues to be in a period of transition where the instincts and the mind are both present” (the truth of the matter is that man was and continues to be,) “the abolishment of private property” (abolition.) In the Glossary; “the income generated by ….. are aimed at the needy” (income ….. is aimed at.)

 

Bookshelf Travelling for Insane Times – Translated Fiction

Time for Reader in the Wilderness’s meme again.

These shelves contain my paperbacks of fiction translated from languages other than English. Evidence here of my usual suspects – Bohumil Hrabal, Mario Vargas Llosa, Naguib Mahfouz, Diego Marani, Gabriel García Márquez, Irène Némirovsky, Orhan Pamuk, but nearly all of these have been worth reading. In fact I would say there are no real duds here. The English language books on the lower shelf belong to the good lady and are shelved there because they fit into the space:-

Translated Fiction Bookshelves 1

Several really large hardbacks are too big to sit on the above shelves so have to be kept separately. These are not all translations but there is more Orhan Pamuk, more Naguib Mahfouz, more Irène Némirovsky, and then the English language Salman Rushdie. The John Updike omnibus is the good lady’s:-

Large Books Shelf

Autumn Quail by Naguib Mahfouz

Doubleday, 1990, 171 p. Translated from the Arabic, Al-Summan wal-Kharif (1962,) by Roger Allen, revised by John Roddenbeck.

 Autumn Quail cover

There is a quality to some translated fiction that is opaque. Whether it is due to a too literal translation or a different cultural outlook it lends a certain distance to the reading experience. Something isn’t quite in focus. There is a little of that to Autumn Quail but the lack of sharpness here may simply be due to the nature of the novel’s protagonist.

After the Egyptian military coup of 1952 Isa ad-Dabbagh, a high ranking civil servant whose fortunes had previously looked assured, is dismissed from his post for corruption. With his future disrupted, his fiancée’s father’s permission for the marriage now refused and unwilling to compromise by getting a job he dithers through the days, not settling between remaining in Cairo, Alexandria or Ra’s al-Barr, allowing Riri, a prostitute he encounters on the Alexandria Corniche, to keep house for him (a mutually beneficial arrangement till he throws her out when she becomes pregnant,) making a marriage with a much older woman whom he does not love and taking to gambling unsuccessfully. A friend tells him, “You’re a boat drifting without a sail.” Only after the Suez crisis and further encounters (with a now successful Riri, and with a man for whose imprisonment he had once been responsible) does he begin to reassess his life.

The introduction (as usual I left it till after reading the novel proper – and it did contain spoilers) suggests Mahfouz wrote this partly to express his disquiet with the way that the 1952 revolution had evolved. Throughout there was the sensation that perhaps you have to be Egyptian to understand all the implications and nuances Mahfouz was writing about. It’s perfectly serviceable fiction but I didn’t really connect with it.

Pedant’s corner:- shaikh (usually sheikh,) “who let’s himself” (lets,) oblivious of (oblivious to,) “a group of economists were going to hold a discussion” (a group was.)

Sugar Street by Naguib Mahfouz

Black Swan, 2013, 309 p. Translated from the Arabic Al-Sukkariyya by William Maynard Hutchins and Angele Botros Samaan.

Sugar Street cover

Originally published in 1957, this third part of Mahfouz’s Cairo Trilogy has al-Sayyid Ahmad abd al-Jawad entering old age and so dwells more on the younger members of his family. His children reflect that their youngsters seem to know it all and do not listen to their words of wisdom. ’Twas ever thus. The book takes place in the run up to and during the Second World War so mirrors the First World War setting of Book 1, Palace Walk.

While political events of the times tend to happen in the background, it seems that in this respect Egypt doesn’t change much; indeed one character reflects that tyranny is the nation’s most deeply entrenched malady. Here, hope is raised when King Faruq takes over from his father Fuad, but disillusionment soon sets in. Politicians sell out their principles for power and inspire contempt. The group named herein as the Muslim Brethren (nowadays that “Brethren” is translated as Brotherhood) have become active in the political arena. According to them all answers are to be found in the Qu’ran. “We attempt to understand Islam as God intended it to be: a religion, a way of life, a code of law and a political system.” This is immediately subject to the rejoinder, “Is talk like this appropriate for the twentieth century?” – which is a good question; and more so in the twenty-first. There is also mention of girls in the family not being educated beyond the elementary certificate – not that that was a specifically Egyptian failing in those times.

To illustrate the darker undercurrents at play Mahfouz has a Copt say, “in spite of everything we’re living in our golden age. At one time Shaykh Abd al-Aziz Jawish suggested that Muslims should make shoes of our hides.”

al-Jawad’s grandson Abd al-Muni’m Ibrahim Shawkat is a firm believer while his brother Ahmad Ibrahim Shawkat is a communist. Towards the end both are detained for sedition. The first claims it is because he believes in God, the second asks what, then, his own offence could possibly be, as he doesn’t. Ahmad’s earlier declaration of affection for a female classmate founders on his relative lack of means. “It was amazing that in this country where people allowed emotion to guide their politics they approached love with the precision of accountants.”

Other perceptions include, “Politics is the most significant career open to a person in a society,” “When we’re in love we may resent it, but we certainly miss love once it’s gone,” and, “Life is full of prostitutes of various types. Some are cabinet ministers and others authors.”

Once again the USian translation was prominent, with piasters for piastres, “darn it” as an imprecation, soccer and diapers all intruding on my suspension of disbelief.

Palace of Desire by Naguib Mahfouz

Black Swan, 1997, 423 p. Translated from the Arabic Qasr al-Shawq by William Maynard Hutchins, Lorne M Kenny and Olive E Kenny

Palace of Desire cover

Originally published in 1957, this, the second part of Mahfouz’s Cairo Trilogy, follows on from Palace Walk and takes up the story of al-Sayyid Ahmad abd al-Jawad’s family some five years after the death of his son Fahmy in the Egyptian Revolution of 1919. His wife Amina remains grief stricken, his daughters are now both married into the Shawkat family, where Khadija is at odds with her mother-in-law, but the story focuses mainly on his first son (by a previous marriage) Yasin and his youngest son Kamal, on the cusp of adulthood. One curiosity:- in Palace Walk the standard of feminine beauty lay towards the ample, in Palace of Desire the more upper class Egyptians – though Mahfouz doesn’t really give us any below what might be called middle class – are beginning to lean towards a thinner ideal.

While Yasin now lives in Palace of Desire Alley the title of this second novel in the trilogy is indicative, since sexual longing threads the book. Ahmad himself returns to his extra-marital dalliances after a period of abstinence due to his mourning and sets up the lute player Zanuba on a houseboat as his mistress. Yasin is enamoured of women generally but serially disappointed by marriage. His second one, to next door neighbour Maryam, is as unfulfilling as was his first to Zaynab. At one point he tells Kamal that, “nothing works with women except beating them with a shoe.” A chance encounter with Zanuba (with whom he had an association as a bachelor) leads to her separation from Ahmad and marriage to Yasin. Neither Zanuba nor Ahmad were aware of their mutual connections.

Kamal also falls under the spell of love. He is smitten by Aïda Shaddad, the sister of one of his friends. She gets engaged and married to another, though. As a result Kamal loses his hitherto strong Muslim faith and begins to indulge in alcohol and women. He muses, “Love’s an illness, even though it resembles cancer in having kept its secrets from medical science,” and on a forced visit to the mosque to give thanks for his father’s recovery from serious illness thinks, “The most ancient remaining human structures are temples. Even today no area is free of them.”

As with Palace Walk the book takes a long time to get going. The prose is dense with the characters’ reflections and can seem long-winded. Whether this is due to the translation is impossible to tell but once again USianisms fail to ring true. Calling someone “buster” as a form of put down struck me as not very Egyptian, at any rate.

The third volume, Sugar Street (where the Shawkat families reside) awaits.

Palace Walk by Naguib Mahfouz

Doubleday 1990, 501 p. First published in 1956. Translated from the Arabic Bayn al-Qasayn by William M Hutchins and Olive E Kenny.

This is part 1 of Mahfouz’s Cairo trilogy, said to be one of his major works and a contributor to his being awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1988.

Palace Walk cover

al-Sayyid Ahmad abd al-Jawad is an overbearing father and husband who does not allow his daughters or wife outside the house (nor anyone bar family members to see their faces) and rules his sons with a rod of iron. He is also, to Western eyes, an outrageous hypocrite – pretending to religious rectitude but spending his evenings carousing with his friends, drinking, and being “entertained” by female singers. In this respect he is not too different from those friends, though. His much put upon (second) wife, Amina, waits on him – literally hand and foot – and is consoled only by her strong religious belief and her love for her children. The family’s story is set during the First World War (there are frequent references to Kaiser Wilhelm, Hindenburg and zeppelins.) In the background the tensions associated with the British (the text frequently says English) occupation of Egypt at that time are laid out. While hating the English, a particular ire seems to have been reserved for Australians – and Indians are mentioned once as being hardly better.

The text is saturated with religiosity, both the dialogue and the characters’ thoughts make frequent reference to suras from the Qur’an (chapter and verse) – sometimes, as is the way with many observers of a faith, to provide support for their dubious position or actions.

Gradual alterations of the internal relationships in the family occur as time goes by, the two daughters, Aisha and Khadija are married out (to the youngest son Kamal’s distress and confusion,) Yasin, al-Sayyid’s son by his previous marriage, disgraces himself and forces his father to arrange a marriage for him too, his wife also being made by al-Sayyid to accept his strictures, and Amina’s eldest son, Fahmy, becomes embroiled in the revolution.

The claustrophobia and sexual repression within the household are striking. Offspring here are allowed no say in whom they are to marry, have not even seen their intended till after the engagement. The wider culture does allow sexual outlets, but only clandestinely. Life in Cairo in the early part of the Twentieth Century is illuminated almost incidentally. A local cleric occasionally drops in to al-Sayyid’s shop to dispense warnings and advice but mostly to receive a present.

The revolution, when it happens, comes as an apparent intrusion to the narrative which up to that point had closely focused on the family members and their interactions. While it continues to do so, there is a noticeable broadening out thereafter.

The text tends to the wordy. I must assume this reflects the original Arabic but while the characters are being established – each of the family has sections to her- or himself in various alternations – it can sometimes be unwieldy.

The translation is into USian and can be fussy. “Why did not the revolution achieve its objectives quickly?” has that “not” awkwardly placed. There were other infelicities. Skirt chaser didn’t seem correct as a term for womaniser in an Egyptian context and the British General Allenby is called a son of a gun when he releases the Egyptian revolutionary Sa’d Zaghlul from custody; surely too approbatory for a man whom the speaker despised. A man is “plunked” down; in Britain that would be “plonked.”

While it took a while to become engaged with the characters and the milieu things picked up latterly and I was encouraged sufficiently to read part 2 of Mahfouz’s Cairo Trilogy soon.

Book Haul

On Saturday we went to the Christain Aid booksale which is held every two years at St Andrew’s and St George’s Church, George Street, Edinburgh. It was mobbed.

This was my haul:-

Book Haul

The Hoose O Haivers took my fancy just because of its title – it contains short stories by Matthhew Fitt, Susan Rennie and James Robertson.

Rhoda Lerman’s The Book of the Night is a Womens’ Press SF publication from 1986.

The Art Nouveau and Art Deco book was spotted by the good lady (who herself bought 13 books!) It has some lovely illustrations.

Fleck is a verse comedy by Alasdair Gray.

Palace Walk is the first of Naguib Mahfouz’s Cairo trilogy.

Goodness knows when I’ll get round to reading them.
The Hoose O Haivers and Fleck are quite short so I could fit them in easily enough I suppose. The Mahfouz looks like a long project though.

The book sale continues till Friday.

Arabian Nights and Days by Naguib Mahfouz

Translated from the Arabic, Layali alf layla, by Denys Johnson-Davies

The American University in Cairo Press, 2005, 229p

Arabian Nights and Days cover

I bought this in a charity shop on our October trip down south. I had been wishing to sample Mahfouz’s fiction for some time but was also intrigued by the “EgyptAir Duty Free” sticker on the back! It’s a 2005 reprint of a 1995 translation of a 1979 publication.

It takes as its template the tales of One Thousand and One Nights but begins where that ends as the Sultan Shahriyar decides to marry the Nights’ spinner of stories Shahrzad.

It’s many years since I read the Arabian Nights so I’m not certain how closely this reflects those tales but some incidents seemed familiar. Well-known names do appear, such as Aladdin (who here has no magic lamp) and Sindbad (a several times shipwrecked sailor) and there was a resonance about a call to open a door. Genies – Singam and Qumqam, Sakhrabout and Zarmabaha – ply their trickery on the inhabitants of the city. Not even the Sultan escapes their attentions. Humans dance to their tunes as if free will does not exist. The authorities seem much exercised over the activities of heretics like the Shiites and Kharijites (the second of whom I’d never heard of before. Wiki has this.)

I also don’t have enough knowledge of Egyptian politics of the 1970s to tell whether it’s an oblique comment on them though since the book dwells on corruption in high places it may very well. That’s a timeless (and ubiquitous) failing in any case.

The structure is episodic; it’s really a series of connected short stories – as was One Thousand and One Nights.

There’s a distancing inherent in any translation but especially in tales such as these, steeped in a culture different from the one to which I’m used; there are doubtless many references I missed.

I’ll look out for more by Mahfouz.

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