Category: literary life

I first heard about the project to establish The International Prize for Arabic Fiction (the Arabic Booker) at a reception in London a couple of years ago. I was, of course, delighted by the idea, particularly when one of the organizers told me that the winning book would be published throughout the Arab world, and translated outside of it, thus helping the author gain a wider readership. The cash awards ($10,000 for shortlisted authors, $50,000 for the winner) would also give a tremendous boost to authors in a part of the world where it is nearly impossible to live off of one’s writing.

But even then I was under no illusions about the inclusiveness of the prize. The way these things often work is that, despite the richness of the Arabic language and its culture, the attention goes to the Middle East, with Egypt, Lebanon, and Syria dominating. The Maghreb, on the other hand, tends to be forgotten. And sure enough, despite the presence of my illustrious countrymen Mohammed Berrada and Mohammed Bennis on the judging panel, the shortlist included:

June Rain by Jabbour Douaihy (Lebanon)
The Land of Purgatory by Elias Farkouh (Jordan)
In Praise of Hatred by Khaled Khalifa (Syria)
Walking in the Dust by May Menassa (Lebanon)
Swan Song by Mekkaoui Said (Egypt)
Sunset Oasis by Baha Taher (Egypt)

Two Egyptians, two Lebanese, and yet not one Algerian, not one Moroccan, or Libyan or Mauritanian, or Tunisian. Why? There should be more effort to reach out to Arabic-language publishing houses in the Maghreb, and to encourage them to enter their authors in these prizes. And the publishers in the Maghreb need to keep themselves apprised of what is going on in the world of letters outside their borders.

At any rate, the International Prize for Arabic Fiction went to Baha Taher. Many congratulations to him. And I look forward to the day when someone like Bensalem Himmich or Leila Abouzeid gets a nod.

Nice news in the Los Angeles Times last Saturday: Beyond Baroque will stay in its Venice location for $1 per year for the next 25 years. Thank you, city council.

As has been widely reported, one of the best independent bookstores in Los Angeles is closing. Dutton’s had been at its Brentwood location for 23 years. I remember going there to hear Monica Ali, Michael Chabon, Jhumpa Lahiri, and many, many others. I was thrilled to read there when my own book came out in hardcover–a bit of a dream come true. But now, another Los Angeles bookstore is in danger: Beyond Baroque. An email currently making the rounds states that “[the] lease is now in question, and ends Saturday, March 1st. It has not been extended.” The bookstore will be renting the space month to month from now on.

The reasons for both these developments are essentially the same: expensive retail space, competition from chains and online booksellers. I find it depressing that, with such a disproportionate number of wealthy people here, no one is coming forward to help independent literary culture survive. Quite the contrary, the millionaire who owns the building in which Dutton’s is located has said that he would be willing to pay the bookstore’s debts, and forgive the rent, so long as the bookstore closes at the end of April.

The latest issue of the London Review of Books has a Diary piece (don’t you love those? I do.) by Israeli journalist Yonathan Mendel, in which he describes his work covering the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. A particularly interesting tidbit:

In most of the articles on the conflict two sides battle it out: the Israel Defence Forces, on the one hand, and the Palestinians, on the other. When a violent incident is reported, the IDF confirms or the army says but the Palestinians claim: ‘The Palestinians claimed that a baby was severely injured in IDF shootings.’ Is this a fib? ‘The Palestinians claim that Israeli settlers threatened them’: but who are the Palestinians? Did the entire Palestinian people, citizens of Israel, inhabitants of the West Bank and the Gaza Strip, people living in refugee camps in neighbouring Arab states and those living in the diaspora make the claim? Why is it that a serious article is reporting a claim made by the Palestinians? Why is there so rarely a name, a desk, an organisation or a source of this information? Could it be because that would make it seem more reliable?

All italics are Mendel’s. He also looks at verbs like ‘initiate,’ or ‘launch’ versus ‘respond.’ Interesting stuff, particularly for those of us who are obsessed with language or politics (or both.)

The L.A. Times Book Review includes a thoughtful piece by Josh Kun on two recent books about the U.S.-Mexico border: Hyper-Border by Fernando Romero and 187 Reasons Mexicanos Can’t Cross the Border by Juan Felipe Herrera.

The U.S.-Mexico border is a 2,000-mile geopolitical line that runs from the Gulf of Mexico to the Pacific Ocean, slicing through 10 states, two deserts, at least four different regional accents and at least three different philosophies on how to cook meat, all while changing shape from rivers to rocks to ranch fences to wooden posts to menacing metal walls rigged with electronic sensors.

Yet the border has never been just a line on a map. CNN’s Lou Dobbs knows this as well as a Tijuana local who wakes up to the smell of U.S. Border Patrol tear gas. It is a machine and a metaphor, a tool and a scapegoat, an entire cosmology and, especially these days, a political quagmire as laden with quicksand as the mention of a Palestinian state at a Passover table. There’s no way to talk about it without getting lost in circuitous, maddening debate.

Romero’s book redefines the idea of a clear border by providing a complex image of the region, with its interdependencies, while Herrera’s book is a collection of his poetry, essays and reflections over 30 years of activism on behalf of border peoples, border generations, border languages.

The Winter 2008 issue of the magazine Bidoun includes a lovely article by Issandr El Amrani on Anfas (Souffles), the legendary Moroccan literary and cultural magazine. Here is a brief snippet

In 1966, a small group of Moroccan poets, artists, and intellectuals launched Souffles, a quarterly review that would over time become at once a vehicle for cultural renewal and an instigator of efforts to promote social justice in the Maghreb. From its very first issue, Souffles was a unique experiment, a Moroccan and Maghrebi effort to liberate the country’s intellectual framework from fetid provincialism and lingering colonial complexes. It was a cri de coeur, a rebellion against the artistic status quo, a manifesto for a new aesthetics, even a new worldview. Its trademark cover, emblazoned with an intense black sun, radiated rebellion.

The full article is available online here, so please take a look.