By Sayed Mahmoud, "Lord of the wings" - Al-Ahram Weekly - Cairo, Egypt
19 - 25 March 2009/Issue No. 939
In its second year the "Arab Booker" is going strong
Abu Dhabi: On Monday evening, some four hours before the announcement of the second International Prize for Arabic Fiction (IPAF) -- better known as the Arab Booker -- I spoke to the winner of the prize, Egyptian writer Youssef Ziedan at the Beach Rotana Hotel, Abu Dhabi, where the ceremony was to take place.
Ziedan, who directs the Manuscripts Department at the Alexandria Library, has written over 40 books on history, philosophy and, notably, Sufism.
As it appeared to me he was confident of winning the US$60,000 prize, which has achieved a high level of credibility in Arab literary circles. In his interaction with the many writers and critics gathered for the event, he seemed intent on communicating the feeling that he deserved the prize, citing the fact that his novel had one the greatest number of votes on the IPAF web poll, receiving 47 votes as opposed to the 14 given to the next highest contender, Al-Mutarjim Al-Kha'in (The Unfaithful Translator) by the Syrian novelist Fawwaz Haddad.
The four novels remaining on the shortlist -- Palestinian Ibrahim Nasrallah's Zaman Al-Khuyoul Al-Bayda' (Time of the White Horses), Egyptian Mohammad Al-Bisati's Ju ' (Hunger), Iraqi Inaam Kachaji's Al-Hafida Al-Amerikiyya (The American Granddaughter), and Tunisian Al-Habib Al-Salmi's Rawa'ih Marie-Claire (The Scents of Marie- Claire) -- got even fewer votes. (Besides the main prize, each runner up received a US$10,000 award.)
So Ziedan's confidence did not seem unjustified. His critically acclaimed novel Azazeel (Beezlebub, literally "Lord of the things that fly") had achieved remarkable sales figures. What was interesting, rather, was his eagerness to engage with the predominantly younger writers who attacked the novel on its publication with Dar Al Shurouk, defending a work that was clearly important to him.
Ziedan's defence of Beezlebub centred on the critique targeting its topic, which takes fifth-century Christianity in Egypt as its starting point.
Set between Upper Egypt, Alexandria and northern Syria at a particularly turbulent period of Christian history, when the Roman Empire's embrace of the new religion was followed by doctrinal disputes among the fathers of the church, the novel portrays an intense theological world, where believers in the new faith are fighting both among themselves and with the pillars of a pantheism in recess. The topic proved controversial not just from the literary perspective -- with writers like Ibrahim Farghali, with whom Ziedan met in Abu Dhabi -- but also from the perspective of satellite television channels like Dream, which featured, in its popular show 10 PM, attacks on the book by Coptic figures -- both in and outside the Church.
Farghali, who had appreciated Ziedan's first novel Dhil Al-Af'a (The Serpent's Shadow), wrote in the literary supplement of the Beirut-based Al-Nahar that, try as he might, he could not find any connection between the language of the The Serpent's Shadow and that of Beezlebub -- expressing profound disappointment, on many counts, with the second novel.
As far as he was concerned during our talk with Farghali at the Beach Rotana, Ziedan insisted that he had "a multi- layered style" which stressed different registers in different books. He also revealed a profound knowledge of ecclesial history in the process, convincingly justifying his dramatic choices in the book.
The long list of 16 was selected from over 121 novels submitted to the jury, and the shortlist was announced at a press conference in London on 10 December 2008 -- an occasion for interested parties to acquaint themselves with the head of the jury, the Lebanese critic Yumna Al-Eid, and the jury members: the Emirati writer Mohammad Al-Mur, the Jordanian critic Fakhri Saleh, the professor Exeter University professor Rashid Al-Ani, and the German translator of Arabic literature Hartmut Fendrich.
During the Abu Dhabi ceremony Al-Eid read out the jury's statement: "The work of the jury was chracaterised by a remarkable capacity for understanding across different critical perspectives which nonetheless sought depth and objectivity." For his part Jonathan Taylor, head of the IPAF Board of Trustees and founder of the original Booker, expressed his pleasure regarding the success of the initiative and the excitement the prize has generated in the UAE and the world at large. The Emirates Foundation chairman Ahmad Ali Al-Sayigh reaffirmed the organisation's commitment to IPAF, stating, "We have a wide spectrum of literary writings that deserves a larger audience in the Arab countries and the world," and asserting "the importance of the prize as one of the most important means to supporting Arabic creative writing and its translation into the principal world languages."
Notable among the speakers was Man Booker winner Amitav Gosh, who acknowledged the influence of Arabic literature on his work, referring to the late Tayeb Saleh's Season of Migration to the North and his stint in the governorate of Bahaira, Egypt, which produced In An Antique Land, during which he found out about Egyptian writers such as Taha Hussein, Tawfik Al-Hakim and Naguib Mahfouz, whose interest in the family Gosh finds particularly engaging. Gosh commended IPAF and expressed his hope that it would contribute to the global spread of Arabic literature.
But it was an idea expressed by the IPAF executive director, the Lebanese poetess Joumana Haddad, that captured the spirit of the event. Haddad said the prize has become "a critical conscience and a literary reference point" in all matters relating to the modern Arabic novel.
And true enough, no one could guess who would be the winner before Ziedan's name was announced. Impatience was palpable in the hall while the audience watched a documentary on the prize featuring footage of the competitors in their daily lives -- remarkably, they all felt the candidacy had conferred on them unusual recognition -- until, finally, Al-Eid announced the name of the winner, reiterating the idea that "it was no easy choice" since any given novel is open to interpretation.
Among the criteria of choice she mentioned, in this context, was that no associations of name or country should influence the jury's choice. It was this that enabled the jury to choose an Egyptian for the second year running, since last year's winner was Bahaa Taher for his novel Wahah Al-Ghuroub (Sunset Oasis).
Yet news of Ziedan winning the prize was still a surprise, especially among Egyptian writers who would not have suspected that a writer from outside mainstream literary circles -- far better known as the author of books on philosophy and Sufism -- should go away with the booty.
But the jury praised the novel in no uncertain terms: "It covered a long leg of the journey towards modernising classic narrative and the creation, out of heritage, a vital story of much significance for the age during which we live."
Most surprisingly of all, however, it turned out that Ziedan's confidence about winning was no mere bravado. In fact he had already prepared a speech to be read on the occasion, in which he explained that Azazeel, the hero of the book, himself dictated the novel on the dawn of the day it was written. Ziedan expressed his pride, especially in the fact that readers had voted for his novel, which he said indicates that the message of the book was effectively relayed: "That the distances we believe exist between religions are far closer than we think, and that the violence of contending parties is the result of misunderstanding and lack of knowledge of history."
Ziedan reiterated the same idea in the course of the press conference held for him following the ceremony, in which he was joined at the podium by his publisher Ibrahim Al-Mu'allim as well as Al-Eid and Haddad, and which he used as yet another opportunity to defend his book against attack. In the process Ziedan displayed a remarkable capacity for steering the course of the questions with a view to demonstrating his knowledge of the topic.
He indicated, for example, that he slipped Quranic expressions into a text concerned with Christianity on purpose, in order to demonstrate the two religions' close affinity.
In this context he also said that "we cannot have God in more than one text", a reference to the Quran being too strong to emulate, denying that his work at the Library might have influenced his creative work: "The Library arrived into my world and my interest in heritage predates its existence by many years, since I published my first book at the age of 22."
But the most interesting remark made by Ziedan was that no mention of Azazeel or the Devil had been made in Arabic literature since the death of the Sufi poet Al-Hallaj in 922 AD.
His novel, he said, renews the glories of such Arabic writers as Ibn Sina and Ibn Tufail (both wrote versions of Hayy Ibn Yaqdhan, the model for Robinson Crusoe ): "Our culture suffers atrophy and weakness and will not progress so long as it judges its success on the basis of closeness to the West. We must understand our heritage and re-engage with it critically."
It was left to Al-Eid to fend off any lingering doubts concerning "religious sensitivities" the jury's choice might offend.
"The novel is rich, since its author uses classical narrative but brings it into the present. It also raises important questions about time, existence and creed and calls for shunning extremism. The genuine critic must be prepared to pay the price of his choices, seeking knowledge and never thinking of the consequences."
Picture: Two initial folios of the Gospel of Saint John copied by the deacon Yuhanna Mikhayil in 1512 (reproduced from Coptic Icons II, Cairo: Lehnert & Landrock, 1998); and Beezlebub as seen in Collin de Plancy's Dicionnaire Infernal (Paris, 1863; GNU-licensed image).
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