Monday, September 24, 2012

Arabian Nights and Days Naguib Mahfouz


This is a collection of traditional tales with a twist. The oral traditions of Arabic culture have been reshaped for a contemporary audience. Its proverb-like episodes are reminiscent of Aesop's Fables, the African stories of Anansi, and even the popular Bible bed time stories. The backbone of the original thousand and one stories still remains in Mahfouz's stories. The dialogue is still formulaic (religious, call-and-answer), the characters and culture remains, yet there is shade of modern flavor.

It was easy to read these stories as separate events in the same context. Yet, it was difficult to see an underlying theme or unifying current of ideas throughout the whole of it. Not only were the names running together in my head, but the writing style made it tough reading as dialogue didn't seem to move the plot forward ("Is he straying from the right path? He is waging war against error to the extent of his ability. Now my heart is at peace, said Aladdin happily. But you must know yourself. He is poor, but rich in bearing the worries of mankind" (167)). Some stories deal almost explicitly with corruption/human justice (The Café of the Emirs, Gamasa Al-Bulti) whereas some explore the idea of hierarchy, (incomprehensible) fate and destiny (Sanaan Al-Gamali, Nur al-Din and Dunyazad, Aladdin with the Moles on His Cheeks). Some stories just, cut-off without an apparent ending - they leave you with an odd sense that it will (it should) be resolved in later stories.

I appreciated all the colors and shades of the book as it reworked universal human themes - without providing one satisfactory answer. People died because they deserved it or committed a big taboo; they died when they didn't deserve it; they died for no reason at all. Just as the line between fantasy and reality became blurred, the line between right and wrong seemed to grow hazier amidst the multitude of characters and plot lines. However, after the last discussion of the novel and the last chapter (The Grievers), it became a little bit clearer that Mahfouz is dancing around certain themes, offering variations of plausible conclusions. For three chapters discussed in class (Sanaan al-Gamali, Gamasa Al-Bulti, The Porter) Mahfouz plays with the concept of justice and mercy. Can a human be an arbiter of justice? Is human justice just as moral and true as supernatural justice? Should justice be meted out by the citizens for the citizens, or by the people at the top of the social hierarchy? And, how does one balance (or decide between) justice and mercy?

The first and last chapters act as book-ends of the colorful collection of stories. Mahfouz touches back on the original (or first) love story between Sharhriyar and Shahrzad, finally letting the reader know that all stories are coming to a close. The sultan's decision to turn irreversibly from ruling and his beautiful wife signals a turning point in the characterization of an evil-turned-good person. He leaves "throne and glory, woman and child" because of his desire for complete salvation, enters into a dream-like reality where he marries a queen and lives peacefully until his curiosity gets the better of him (222). He opens a prohibited door, irreversibly sending himself back into the former reality where corruption is rampant and genies wreak havoc out of boredom. How can we, as readers, reconcile this return back to the beginning? Has something changed within us as we finish the collection of stories just as the sultan completes a life circuit? Can we, like the sultan, be able to reconcile our human desires with the calling of a greater purpose? Or, are these stories mere entertainment?

1 comment:

  1. Good, thoughtful response, Esther. I think your third paragraph is particularly clear and insightful -- we are being given a range of colorations on human themes, and, no, there is no clear, satisfactory answer. Your questions at the end push beyond that, don't they. It does seem that Mahfouz has given us a conundrum -- yet we know that the human heart is never satisfied, even when we find ourselves living in "paradise." There is, in fact, something timeless about our struggle generation after generation to "get it right." In that sense, then, the stories are not JUST entertainment.

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