News

My review of Marjane Satrapi’s graphic novel Chicken with Plums appears in today’s Boston Globe. Here’s an excerpt:

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to Satrapi’s many dedicated fans that she has mined her family’s rich history again. In “Persepolis,” she told of her coming of age in Iran, during the Islamic Revolution and the long, bloody war with Iraq. In “Persepolis 2,” she wrote of her teenage life in Austria, where her parents sent her so she could finish high school away from the constant harassments of the mullahs. In “Embroideries,” she recounted an afternoon tea party at her grandmother’s house, and used it to create an eye-opening portrait of sexual relations in modern-day Iran. Now she gives us the story of her great-uncle, turning it into a meditation on art and love, and the necessity of both to any life worth living.

You can read it all here.

Last month, I mentioned that the magazine Nichane had been banned, and its editor-in-chief and one of its journalists put on trial, all for a cover story on jokes deemed “insulting to Islam.” The case went to court in Casablanca on January 8th, and the verdict was pronounced yesterday: Three years’ probation for editor Driss Ksikes and journalist Sanaa Al Aji, a fine of 80,000 dirhams each, and a punitive ban of two months, meaning that the magazine would only be back on newsstands at the end of February.

This is very harsh. And it’s frightening that, compared with the verdict the prosecution was seeking — five years’ prison time; complete ban of the publication; ban of its journalists from practicing their profession — it sounds downright magnanimous. Still, the verdict is yet another wake-up call for those who thought that the tangible progress we witnessed in terms of press freedom over the last few years was a permanent gain. This hastily prosecuted case is a strong signal that there are still “red lines” (Islam, the king, the Sahara question) that cannot be crossed.

The magazine plans to appeal, but in the meantime the verdict is a Sword of Damocles hanging over the journalists’ heads. Any false step, any perceived insult, and all that needs to happen is for someone to sue them before they’ll find themselves at risk of firm prison time. Perhaps that’s exactly what the government wanted–putting them, and all the other journalists, on notice. In addition, the government gets to play the card of “protector of Islam,” thus defeating religious conservatives at their own game. But this is a dangerous game, because conservatives will only escalate the situation, attacking anything they perceive as offensive. It’s a sad day.

Related: Twenty Moroccan writers and intellectuals have signed a petition in support of Nichane; Fadoua Benaich and Jesse Sage have an op-ed in the Los Angeles Times; popular blogger Larbi continues to offer a forum for discussing the issue.

I had set my novel aside during the hectic move to Casablanca, and when I picked it up again a few weeks ago and reread it, I noticed a strong satirical element throughout. Then I was invited to the Winternachten literary festival, and I was asked if I could take part in a two-day workshop on… satire. It’s perhaps only a coincidence. But I think writing a novel is a bit like converting to a new religion; one starts to see signs everywhere. The workshop became a sign of something the universe was trying to tell me–that I should embrace the satirical element, maybe. It’s all a bit silly, really. Still, the first two days I spent in the Hague proved extremely useful, and made me see a bit more clearly what I am trying to do in my work. (The amusing bit is that we couldn’t even agree on a good definition of satire beyond “We know it when we see it.”)

After the workshop, I met with my Dutch editor, did a few press interviews, and hung out with a good friend of mine. I also read from Hope and Other Dangerous Pursuits in front of a packed house at Theater aan het Spui. Abdelkader Benali was a great, tough interviewer, and he asked me questions about the book that I don’t think I’ve been asked at any of my readings in the US. I had a wonderful, wonderful time. I even managed to steal some time away to go visit the Vermeers that were on display at Maurithuis, a wonderful little museum in the Hague. The most inspiring element of the whole trip was being surrounded by so many Moroccan and Dutch Moroccan writers, poets, musicians, and artists. I felt so energized and ready to take on the world–or at least the rest of my novel.

I am now in Paris for a couple of days, doing some interviews for the French edition of Hope. More soon, I hope.

Tonight I’ll be reading from Hope and Other Dangerous Pursuits at the Winternachten Literature Festival. This will be followed by a conversation with Abdelkader Benali. Here are the details:

9:40 PM
Reading and Discussion
Winternachten Literature Festival
The Hague, Netherlands

If you happen to be in town, come by and say hello!

I am in The Hague this week to take part in Winternachten. I’ve visited the Netherlands only once before, and I stayed mostly in Amsterdam then. I remember long afternoons spent walking along the canals, hours and hours spent at the museums (The Night Watch and The Milkmaid were on display), and the taste of those amazing Dutch pancakes. It is my first time visiting The Hague, a city about which I know next to nothing. I hope to find out more.