******************************البحث عن السحر****************************

Conversation with a Lebanese War Child

M: Hi. What’s happening in beirut?

Y: there was shooting at tariq il jdeedeh. we didn’t hear anything

M: I heard it was a bomb

Y: like a car bomb?

M: I dunno

On Mona El Tahawy and ‘Native Informants’

The problem with Tahawy’s article, as others have pointed out, is that she attempts to depoliticize the patriarchy and make it about emotion–hatred–because, you know, Arabs are all ‘hot-blooded’ and whatnot. Such a reductive argument would never be accepted as an explanation for patriarchal practices in the West. But her thesis seems to fold in on itself: if oppression of Arab women is rooted in hatred fed by a uniquely misogynistic religion and culture, then oppression in other places is rooted in what, general malaise? To say misogyny is rooted in hatred is just redundant. Misogyny isn’t rooted in hatred, it IS hatred, and hatred of women is a symptom, not a cause, of the patriarchy in which both men and women participate.

Tigers on the Tenth Day by Zakaria Tamer

The forests had forsaken the tiger, imprisoned in his cage, but he could not forget them. He glared hatefully at the men beyond the bars; their eyes, curious and unafraid, studied him. One of them spoke in a calm, authoritative tone: “If you truly want to do what I do, to become a tamer, you must never for a moment forget that your adversary’s stomach is your primary target. You will see that this profession is both easy and difficult at the same time. Look at this tiger: he is fierce, arrogant, proud of his freedom, his power and his strength. But he will change, become meek, gentle, and obedient–like a small child. Watch what happens between he who holds the food and he who does not, and learn.”
The men rushed to profess their dedication as students to the profession of taming. The tamer beamed, then addressed the tiger sarcastically: “And how is our honored guest?”
“Prepare my food; it is time for my meal,” said the tiger
“You, my prisoner, giving me orders?” said the tamer with mock astonishment. “What a funny tiger you are! You should realize that I am the only one who gives orders around here.”
“No one gives orders to tigers,” said the tiger.

[UPDATED] Palestinian Intellectuals to Syrian Regime: Not in Our Name! (English trans)

UPDATE: There are credible reports that many of the supposed signatories to this document never saw it and had no knowledge that their names were being used. I respectfully request that anyone who has republished this translation take appropriate measures to inform their readers.

A collective Palestinian statement
To apply for membership in the Syrian Writers Union and in solidarity with the Syrian people

It is our honor, as Palestinian writers and signatories to this statement, to request as a group to be inducted into the Syrian Writers Union, which has been recently established by the free Syrian writers and intellectuals who stand with the people as they climb the ladder of freedom which has been smeared with blood by the hand of the tyrant. The establishment of the Syrian Writers Union constitutes an essential pillar of the Syrian revolution and places the true intellectual in his or her rightful place beside the people as an effective partner in building a new Syria free of dynastic authoritarianism–a diverse, democratic, civil system based on the rights of the citizen, one that embraces the rights of expression and creation, a system incapable of falsifying the free Syrian intellectual’s will through hollow structures that arrogate the potentials of culture, usurp the role of the intellectual and falsify his or her will, always a device in the hand of the tyrant and his apparatuses.

And to my critics, I say…

I was between projects, on the prowl for cheap (literary) thrills, and a friend of a friend recommended Ihsan Abdel Quddous. I am withholding judgement until I’ve finished the book, but I have to say, based on the author’s forward, we are off to a dubious start:

Many people have said to me: if you had a daughter, you would not have written these stories that you write, nor espouse these daring opinions as you do…

They are wrong.

Book titles taken from subject lines of drunk e-mails to best friend

A Girl Unloved by Men

My first thought when I saw the Arabic title of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo was pretty negative.

“Right,” I thought. “Because all complex female characters are actually just bitter harpies who need to get laid.”

The publishers can be somewhat forgiven, since, on further investigation, I discovered that the original title in Swedish is Män som hatar kvinnor, or Men Who Hate Women. A similar theme, but it’s still worth noting that in Arabic the implicit blame has shifted to the girl.

Full disclosure: I have not read the book, and from what I understand the female protagonist does, indeed, have intimacy issues, but I still think this is a pretty bad title. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo promises seduction, mystery, and escapism at its best and most sordid. A Girl Unloved by Men sounds like a coming of age tale involving a troubled teen and an equally wild horse slowly learning to trust each other over the course of a fateful summer on her uncle’s ranch. That’s if it were published in English. In Arabic, Fataatoun La Yuhibuha Ar-Rijaal sounds like khaleeji chick lit, and not the good kind (yes, there is a good kind).

A sad day in human-jinn relations

Security forces surround the mountain: Omani kidnapped by Jinn who ties him up in a cave using her hair as mediation by human sheikhs fails

While it is important not to make generalizations about the entire jinn community based on a few bad apples, we must also recognize the societal factors that lead to high rates of kidnapping, possession and shape-shifting among jinn, particularly the youth. The destruction of abandoned houses and banana groves, in particular, as well as the terrible living conditions of stray animals, many of which are in fact jinn, feeds resentment towards humans, leading some jinn to lash out as we’ve seen here.

تعويذة بلا سحر

عندما بدأت بقراءة ثالوث و تعويذة بقلم الكاتبة العمانية زوينة الكلباني، كنت أتطلع إلى التمتع بقصة رومانسية خفيفة يتخللها التشويق النفسي، و لكن سرعان ما خابت تطلعاتي. أدركت أن الرواية ليست بالخفة التي تخيلتها ، فهي محاولة صادقة في كتابة رواية شاملة في قصتها و رموزها وتشكيلاتها الفكرية. و رغم ذلك، أقول محاولة لأنها تعاني من نقص واضح يتمثل بالانشغال بأخلاقيات إجتماعية تقدمها الكاتبة بشكل تبسيطي و سطحي، مما يؤثر سلباً على العمل الروائي، إذ تمنع هذه المقاربة التعمق في الشخصيات نفسها و في علاقاتها بعضا ببعض، و تقطع متابعة ردود فعلها الطبيعية

تدور أحداث الرواية حول بنت عمانية اسمها نورة، تعيش عقدة نفسية بسبب توجّسها من الرقم ثلاثة، وعلاقتها بشاب إماراتي تتعرف إليه في لندن. تسعى الرواية إلى أن تكون أكثر من مجرّد قصة عادية عن الحب و القدر، و لكنها تفشل في سعيها هذا، فالثرثرة الكثيرة عن الموت في الرواية لا تنتج أي وحي جديد عن الموت أو الحياة أو أي من المواضيع الوجودية الأخرى. و أمّا على مستوى التسلية، فيشوب الرواية قدر كبير من الجدية الزائدة، و قد يكون مردّ ذلك الأمر إلى عدم تمكن كاتبة تأتي من بيئة خليجية محافظة من أن تكتب في الحب إلا إذا أكدت على قيمها و قيم بطلتها الأخلاقية. في هذا الإطار، تصبح الشخصيات الثانوية مجرد دعائم تقوم عليها أفكار الكاتبة، إذ تغيب عنها مكونات أدبية أساسية، مما يجعلها غير قابلة للتصديق. توظف الكاتبة هذه الشخصيات إذا في تبرير أفعال البطلة نورة و خياراتها، و ربما حتى في تبرير خيار الكاتبة نفسها في الكتابة عن الحب

Clever Homsis defy stereotype, turn state propoganda on its head to comic effect

There are a lot of jokes about people from Homs and their alleged stupidity, but this is mostly good-natured ribbing, and I’ve never met a Homsi who didn’t take it in stride with a smile.  It seems the brave people of Homs have not lost their sense of humor, despite a sustained military assault over the past few weeks that has devastated the city.

The sign held by the two men above reads: “Syria is over…and the crisis is fine. God damn your soul, Hafez.”

This sign is of course an inversion of the official line, which is ‘The crisis is over, and Syria is fine.’

I salute your courage, and your lulz, Homs.