Rolling Blackouts, by Sarah Glidden

I heard about Sarah Glidden's Rolling Blackouts:  Displatches from Turkey, Syria, and Iraq on NPR's Book Concierge.  Glidden traveled to the Middle East with some friends who work as independent journalists.  They spent several weeks talking to displaced Iraqis and other individuals and trying to think of ways to pitch stories to news organizations back home.  They work on two main stories - one about Dan, an Iraqi veteran who is returning to the region for the first time and wants to talk to Iraqis who lived through the war, and one about Sam, an Iraqi refugee who found his way to Seattle with his family, somehow ended up in the 9/11 Commission report, and was deported back to Iraq.

Much of Glidden's story, though, focuses on her journalist friends, and the work they do.  It's no secret that news organizations have significantly reduced their foreign staff, and that reporting has suffered as a result.  There are very few reporters abroad with long-term contacts, and so they cannot report on longer-term, slower burn stories.  We understand the world less because of it.  Governments are more corrupt because of it.  Reporters are less safe because of it.  We are all less accountable to each other, from individuals to governments to multi-national corporations, because of it.

Glidden's book highlights some of this loss to us.  She shows us an Iraq that suffered through war but still has culture, friendship, delicious food, and beauty.  Some Iraqis are happy that Americans came, mostly because they suffered deeply under Saddam Hussein.  Others hate Americans for ruining their way of life.  I really enjoyed the way Glidden's friends shared stories of Iraqis in multiple countries to provide a broader perspective.  I also liked the way Glidden used light, bright colors in her art to humanize the experience of so many people whose lives have been upended so completely.  Not only the Iraqi refugees themselves, but the lives of the Turks and Syrians as well.

It was particularly chilling to read the Syrian section of this book, as I was reading it while the US bombed Syria after Assad used chemical weapons on his own people.  The book is set some years ago, I think before the full horrors of the Syrian war.  Now I realize just how much the world missed by not having reporters in Syria to cover Assad, so that it felt as though the whole war came out of nowhere.  (At least, it felt that way to me.  No doubt others were better informed.)

I was less enamored with the story around Dan, the Iraqi war veteran.  I feel like his return to Iraq and his opacity in sharing his feelings and whether his feelings about the war and his participation in it took up an outsize amount of the story.  In a way, it felt very "Yes, of course, focus on the white guy's story because that would be the most compelling to everyone."  I don't think that is fair to Glidden's reporter friends, but it seemed like Glidden wanted to focus the most on that story.  She even ends that story arc quite dramatically, with something like, "Sarah never interviewed Dan again" as the only words on a whole page.  Which makes it sound like either Sarah or Dan died, but neither of them did, and they continued to stay friends and talk to each other, she just didn't interview him again about the war.

That aside, though, I really appreciated Glidden's book and her focus on how journalists make decisions on stories, angles, ethics, and so many other things.  It was very illuminating, and I highly recommend seeking it out if you enjoy Joe Sacco's work or Brooke Gladstone's The Influencing Machine.  (Teresa, I'm looking at you!)

The Wrath and the Yawn

I was very excited to read Renee Ahdieh's The Wrath and the Dawn, pretty much entirely because I love anything based on the Arabian Nights.  Ahdieh's book got rave reviews on GoodReads, which was another good sign.  But really, it was all about the 1,001 Nights and those interlaced stories.

Which is why I was pretty disappointed when I realized that this book did not in any way center on the stories that Shahrzad tells her husband each night in an effort to extend her life.  From what I recall, we hear two stories that Shahrzad tells the caliph, which is significantly less than 1,001, I think you'll agree.  It is probably unfair of me to hold this against the book, but I definitely do.  I just really wanted all those layered stories, and I got zero layered stories.

Mostly, this book is about the dramatic love story between Shahrzad and her husband, Khalid, the caliph.  And all the heartache the two must endure.  In mostly agonizing silence.

It was difficult for me to be fair to the book after finding out that there are hardly any tales shared, especially when I also discovered that this book is, to quote Care, "more YA than the YA I usually read."  I nearly laughed aloud when, early in the novel, there was Jill's telltale sign of a YA novel, the hero tucking the heroine's hair behind her ear.  (I knew it was coming because her hair whipping around her face had been mentioned at least twice by that time.)

But there wasn't a lot of laughing in this book.  It's a lot of drama and tension around Shahrzad's Stockholm Syndrome of falling for her husband (after approximately 36 hours of marriage, from what I could tell).  She is filled with angst for loving someone who has killed so many women already, including her best friend.  At least, that's what we're told.  But as Shahrzad spends hardly any time in the book thinking about her friends or family that she left behind when she got married, it's hard for readers to feel much empathy for her situation. Once Shahrzad got married and moved to the palace, it was as though she lost interest completely in the people she left behind.   I wanted to know the people she left behind so that I could understand her guilt (which didn't last long).

It's not that Shahrzad is a weak character.  She's not.  She's fierce and stubborn and beautiful, and I can see why so many teenagers would fall completely in love with her.  But she didn't really develop as a character, we were just supposed to like her because she was independent and good at everything and didn't feel bound by the rules that usually governed women.  All of that just got tiring for me.  Shahrzad just blew either fully hot or fully cold.  Promptly after falling in love with her husband, Shahrzad switches from guilt about betraying her friends to anger with her husband for not divulging all his secrets to her.

There are other characters in this book.  Khalid, Shahrzad's husband, is also tortured and dramatic and beautiful.  His cousin and Shahrzad's handmaiden.  Shahrzad's first love, Tarak, with his piercing eyes.  (Shahrzad, in contrast, has "tiger eyes.")  Bedouins and magicians and armed guards.  I think they all could be pretty interesting people except that there is so much angst around Shahrzad and Khalid that they are not given the opportunity to develop very much.  And everyone and every moment is described in such flowery language.  It's hard to imagine 16-year-olds and 18-year-olds speaking in such a manner.  It was just a lot, and in many ways, a bit too much for me.

The Wrath and the Dawn is the first book in a duology.  I am not entirely sure if I will read the next book.  Though the story had some solid points and there is a fairly intriguing curse/mystery/magic situation brewing, I don't know if these characters are for me.  Too much hot and cold, too much too quickly, and not really enough focus on developing deeper characters and deeper emotions.

Review-itas: People coming together in difficult times

Zeina Abirached's graphic novel A Game for Swallows:  To Die, to Leave, to Return is one of the most beautifully illustrated books I've seen.  The drawings are in black and white, but the style and personality that come through is so strong and evocative.  You can tell on the cover itself - the hairstyles, the faces, all of the characters are so distinct.

The book takes place one evening in Beirut.  Zeina's parents went to visit her grandmother and telephoned to say that they are on their way home, but it's been hours and they have not yet returned.  So all of the other residents of the apartment block come to spend time with Zeina and her brother.  Zeina tells their stories in asides and flashbacks.  By the end, readers have seen several personal stories about life in Lebanon during the civil war.

I enjoyed this book, but I found it a little difficult to follow the story line.  I was often confused by whether we were in a flashback or the present day, and I didn't always know who the narrator was, since different characters would tell either their stories or other people's stories.  And I didn't fully understand all of the context.  For example, Abirached describes how her family went from using the entirety of their apartment to slowly using only one room, but I didn't quite know why their lives had become so constricted.  And I didn't understand why snipers would be on every street trying to shoot all these civilians instead of fighting other soldiers.  I have been lucky in never living in a war zone, so I didn't always understand the whys or hows behind what Abirached was saying.

But the main takeaway, that war made everything difficult and changed people's lives so completely, was easy to understand.

The first two volumes of March, by John Lewis, Andrew Aydin and Nate Powell, relate John Lewis' childhood and college years working for the civil rights movement.  John Lewis is one of the "Big Six" civil rights leaders in American history; he spoke in Washington with Martin Luther King, Jr. and is now a US senator.

It is timely that these graphic novels about the struggle to end Jim Crow and obtain equal rights and voting privileges for African-Americans came out recently, as it becomes more and more clear that Blacks are still fighting for so many rights.

I really enjoy this series and hope that it continues.  I liked the second volume more than the first one, but I think that's because it focused a lot on the freedom riders and the lunch counter protests vs the first volume, which had more to do with setting up John Lewis as a character.

Hopefully, by writing his memoirs in a graphic novel format, John Lewis will reach a new set of American readers who don't always read memoirs or history books.  I'm of the opinion that, for important topics such as this one, it's vital to tell the history in as many ways as possible, to reach as many people as possible.  I've read a bit about the civil rights movement in recent years, but I really appreciate getting multiple perspectives and visions to bring the period to life for me.  These books show just how terrifying it was to be a civil rights leader - they must all have lived in near-constant fear for their lives, and still they went out every day to make a better world.

For some reason, a memoir written in graphic novel format feels so much more personal and intimate to me than one written in only prose.  I'm not sure why, but I feel like I know John Lewis much better now for having seen his actions brought to life in vivid artwork.

Highly recommend this read to anyone who wants to better understand the American civil rights movement.

Life under the veil in Iran

I cannot believe it took me so long to read Marjane Satrapi's Persepolis.  I saw the animated film years ago, but what really pushed me to read this one was when I saw Satrapi about a month ago at the Chicago Humanities Festival.  She was just so vibrant and fun and apolitical (and said a lot of things about feminism that I pretty strongly disagree with) that it really made me want to read more of her books.

So, finally!  Persepolis.  The comic is the story of Satrapi's life in Iran, growing up with a big, liberal, loving family as the government becomes increasingly totalitarian.  Satrapi writes about the early influences in her life - her grandfather and uncle, both of whom fought for people's rights.  She moves onto her teenage years in Vienna, struggling to come of age in a country so foreign to her upbringing and so far from her family.  And then the difficulties of coming home to an Iran that was so different than what she remembered, and became increasingly difficult to deal with.

I loved this book.  The artwork and the writing are seamlessly integrated, in such a manner that I highly recommend Persepolis as a starter comic if you are concerned about reading a comic and are not sure how to deal with the words and pictures.  I am always concerned that I don't pay enough attention to the artwork in graphic novels, but in Persepolis, I had none of that concern:

I also feel like Satrapi does such a great job of showing us everyday Iranian life.  She did the same thing in Embroideries, and I can see why people say that Persepolis is so much better than Embroideries.  What I enjoyed about Embroideries was the rich, deep relationships that existed between the women in the book.  And that is true x1000 in Persepolis.  There is such a deep love between Satrapi and her parents, between Satrapi and her grandmother.  And her whole family is so supportive of her - not just when she shows her brilliance, but also when she makes mistakes.  And they never tell her to be afraid or to bow down to authority - they let her make her own decisions and live her own life and are very proud of her when she stands up for her rights.

This was truly a beautifully written, funny, and wonderful book.  I am so glad that I finally read it, and I can't wait to read Satrapi's Chicken with Plums and perhaps watch the movie that she directed this year!

Review-itas: The Not-Quite-Hits Edition

I really want to read G. Willow Wilson's Miss Marvel comic book series.  While looking for it on the library website, I came across this other graphic novel by her, Cairo, and decided to give that one a try while I waited.

I read Wilson's Alif the Unseen about a year ago and had mixed feelings about it.  While I liked the lead female character and the genie, and the way Wilson weaved modern religion into her story, I thought the details of the plot were pretty difficult to follow.

My feelings about Cairo are pretty much the same, even down to the genie.  Wilson converted to Islam in college, and I really appreciate the way she uses her stories to educate readers about the religion.  She shares an Islam that is respectful, peaceful, and kind.  In a world that often portrays the religion in a very negative, extreme light, I can't speak highly enough of stories that show it as progressive and welcoming.

The plot, though, was still hard to follow.  Wilson seems unwilling to write "conventional" fantasy stories, which is fine, but she also seems to have trouble translating what is in her mind to paper, and so readers are left a little confused.  Or at least this reader is left confused.  Perhaps because religion is such a strong component of her stories, the aspirations are much more high-level than what I am used to and such nebulous descriptions of key components to the story make it hard to understand what's going on.

Still, I cannot wait to read Miss Marvel!

One book I started but did not finish was Liar, Temptress, Soldier, Spy, by Karen Abbott, a historical account of four women who participated in different ways in the American Civil War.

I had a vague recollection of the author's name, and when I realized that she was the author of Sin in the Second City, I had a feeling that I wouldn't love this book.  I really enjoy non-fiction, particularly history, but I feel like the events and the people are fascinating enough.  Authors don't need to add a lot of fluff to make the stories interesting.  Abbott, in my opinion, sensationalizes history a little too much.  It's very difficult to tell with her writing where the facts stop and her own hypotheses begin.  She attributes thoughts and feelings to historical figures without really providing any footnotes as to whether those are real or not.

The four women she includes in this book were spies on both sides of the war, and I'm sure they were all fascinating in their own right.  I loved that they were not limited by their sex but were willing to use other people's preconceived notions and beliefs about women to get ahead.  I would love to learn more about all four of these women, but I don't think Abbott's book is quite the right way for me to do so.  This book is much more a light beach read on the non-fiction scale, which has a lot of value in its own right, but just isn't right for me.

Also, seriously - the book is about women who did underground activities during the American Civil War.  I feel like she could have featured at least one woman of color here!  There are a couple of loyal slaves and servants mentioned who have parts to play, but I think Abbott could have put the spotlight on someone if she really wanted to.

What if religion is really just a computer program?

Alif the Unseen, by G. Willow Wilson, has a really great cover design.  I love the Arabic window shape and the lettering.  And the circuits!  It fits so perfectly with the story, I just love it.

Let me tell you about the story so that you can see just how perfect the cover is.  The back cover summary is good at sharing the plot without giving away key details, and it certainly inspired me to pick the book up, so here it is for you:

In an unnamed Middle Eastern security state, a young Arab-Indian hacker shields his clients—dissidents, outlaws, Islamists, and other watched groups—from surveillance and tries to stay out of trouble. He goes by Alif—the first letter of the Arabic alphabet, and a convenient handle to hide behind. The aristocratic woman Alif loves has jilted him for a prince chosen by her parents, and his computer has just been breached by the State’s electronic security force, putting his clients and his own neck on the line. Then it turns out his lover’s new fiancé is the head of State security, and his henchmen come after Alif, driving him underground. When Alif discovers The Thousand and One Days, the secret book of the jinn, which both he and the Hand suspect may unleash a new level of information technology, the stakes are raised and Alif must struggle for life or death, aided by forces seen and unseen.

There was a lot going on in this book.  Arab Spring, computer hackers, a Big Brother-type government that spies on its citizens (ahem), the idea of books as programs, religion, stories and so much more.  It was a bit overwhelming, but certainly ensured that I kept reading!  In many ways, Alif the Unseen reminded me of Ready Player One, though that could just be because they both involve tech nerds saving the world from large, scary conglomerates, and both of them have a lot of technical and background story that bogs them down.

One of the key insights of Alif the Unseen is that religious texts such as the Qu'ran adapt and change with the times even without editing one word.  They are a bit like computer programs, and if you can code the books into an advanced computer, then you can know everything about everyone in the world.  This was very difficult for me to wrap my head around, and all the metaphors that Wilson used to try to help me understand were lost on me.  I still enjoyed reading the book even without this knowledge, but I feel like I missed something important.

There were a few things about this book that I truly loved.  The first was how Wilson portrayed Dina, a very religious Muslim woman.  When we first meet Dina, we get the impression that she is dowdy and conservative and not a very fun or interesting or confident person.  Many of us would read through the lines and assume that the lack of fun and interest and confidence was due to her beng such a religious person.  But as the story goes on, Dina is just magnificent.  She's strong and loyal and kind and practical, and she is all of those things without ever losing her faith and belief in her God.  So often, Muslim women in books are portrayed as oppressed, as victims who allow other people to tell their stories for them.  I love how Dina had her own voice and how amazing that voice was.

I also really enjoyed the challenge that Wilson brought to her readers about what we believe and don't believe.  Many people believe in their religions passionately and whole-heartedly.  But while they believe some things, there are others that they ignore or believe to be metaphorical.  Such as burning bushes, fornicating gods, and jinns.  Why is this?  How can we believe that some miracles are possible but not others?  Why do we accept some things on faith but require so much proof for others?  We are willing to give so much of ourselves to our technology but we do not give that same trust to what we deem the guiding force in our lives.

I did not love this book completely.  Alif really bothered me, and parts of the story felt clunky and too long.  But I am so glad that I got to know Dina, who was such a wonderful character, and that I had the opportunity to reflect on how I read stories and internalize them and incorporate them into my life.

Lions on the Loose in a War Zone

Pride of Baghdad is one of those books I would see everywhere.  Every library branch I go to seems to have it on the shelf, and every bookstore stocks it, too.  After at least three years of running across it and never picking it up, I bowed to the inevitable this week and impulsively checked it out from the library.  I thought the fates had finally aligned and I would meet a book soul mate.  Eh, not quite.

Pride of Baghdad is about a family of lions that, in the midst of America's bombing of Baghdad, escapes from the zoo.  They are overwhelmed by the experience of being out on the streets and having to catch their own food, and the artwork really illustrates the impact of war.

But in my opinion, the impact of war has been illustrated in other books in a much more vivid and moving way than it is here.  This book is based on a true event that really is a great basis for a story - starving lions were found by US military personnel in Baghdad - but it was just not executed in a way that drew me in.  The lions had no real depth to them.  They just went from one danger to the next, one episode to the next, and while I understood they were scared, I didn't really understand anything about them as individual characters.

They wanted to escape the zoo - okay, fine.  That doesn't really make them that unique (I would guess).  And then, they get culture shock.  That's reasonable, seeing as they are in a human war zone.  And then, they encounter a psychotic bear.  Well... okay, but why?  It was just a series of occurrences that didn't feel connected.  While the story moved forward chronologically, I didn't feel like there was any progression in plot.  And then the book just ends so abruptly and I assume I was supposed to feel sad and bitter about the heartlessness of war but instead, I just felt annoyed that I had read this whole book and still couldn't differentiate between the two lionesses.

So, sadly, all that karmic energy that kept putting this book in front was all for naught!  Hopefully the next time that happens, it's more of a successful pairing.

I can tell you're Hazara just by looking at you

Guys, I was so excited to read this book.  I read the following description and pretty much requested it IMMEDIATELY:

This extraordinary book, derived from the long oral tradition of storytelling in Afghanistan, presents a mesmerizing portrait of a people who triumph with intelligence and humor over the oppressions of political dictators and an unforgiving landscape.
A musician conjures stones to rise in the air and teaches his art to a mute child. Master Poisoner, Ghoroob of Mashad, has so perfected his craft that it is considered an honor to die from his meals. These are stories of magic and wonder in which ordinary people endure astonishing extremes in a world of bloodshed and brotherhood, miracles and catastrophes.

With lyrical wit and profound simplicity, The Honey Thief reveals an Afghanistan of greater richness and humanity than is conveyed in newspaper headlines; an Afghanistan not of failure and despair, but of resilience and fulfillment.

 Doesn't that sound brilliant?  I was imagining Arabian Nights and The Kite Runner and all sorts of admittedly stereotypical things when I started this book.  I didn't quite get what I was hoping for.

Guest Musings: Throne of the Crescent Moon

Some of you may remember my friend Sudha from the cameos she has made here on BookLust in joint reviews.  She's one of my closest friends and one of the very few people in real-life with whom I can discuss books in great detail.  And, luckily for all of us, she participated in A More Diverse Universe!  Below are her thoughts on Saladin Ahmed's Throne of the Crescent Moon.  As you can see, she is a pretty awesome reviewer.  I think she should create her own blog, don't you?

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Have you ever had that delicious anticipation about some new and groundbreaking forthcoming novel that was going to hit your reading sweet spot, like it was written just for you? One that would combine great writing with exciting new plot devices, that you would devour and then tell all of your friends to read as soon as possible?

Needless to say, I have had this feeling about many books. Not all of those books have lived up to my expectations. While I do think this feeling has sometimes ruined a perfectly fine book for me, I do not believe that this expectation is the only thing that gets in the way my enjoyment of them. Sometimes, it really is the sad fact that the book is simply not as well written, as well plotted, or as interesting as I had hoped. Unfortunately, I think Saladin Ahmed’s Throne of the Crescent Moon is one of the books that was simply unable to live up to my anticipation.

[TSS] Musings: Palestine

Joe Sacco's Palestine is a book I've wanted to read for a very long time.  Sacco is a journalist, and he reports on areas that are in the midst of dramatic conflict.  But his reporting style is of the graphic novel variety.  I was so thrilled to see his Palestine in the library, not only because I wanted to experience his very distinctive brand of journalism, but also because I have been very interested in reading more about the Israel-Palestine conflict since enjoying Mornings in Jenin some time ago.

This book is a collection of nine separate articles that Sacco published about Palestine during 1991 and 1992.  Sacco went to Israel late in the year, from Egypt, and spent the vast majority of his time in the territories that are currently occupied by the Palestinians, with increasing encroachment by the Israelis.  Interestingly, Sacco himself is very visible through this whole story.  He doesn't believe in the idea of being an objective bystander.  Instead, he lives with the people he interviews, listens to their stories, drinks their tea (lots of tea), eats food they provide but can barely afford, and gives his own opinion on a myriad of topics.  Sacco comes across as pretty arrogant and sometimes insensitive, but he has a clear passion for what he is reporting, and that comes through loud and clear.  This is in no way an objective account; Sacco makes only a perfunctory attempt to get the Israeli point of view.  But this, too, is done on purpose.  As Westerners, we nearly always only get the Israeli side, and he wanted us to see the effects of this long-term conflict on the Palestinians.  And what he presents us with is a gruelling, intensely personal and amazingly artistic account of his two months in Palestine, and the very humanizing stories of the difficulties, humiliations and terrors that the people who live there go through daily.

Heather's Musings: The Hakawati

I was lucky enough to do another buddy read with Heather from Raging Bibliomania to close out 2010, and it was a great way to end the year!  This time, we chose to read The Hakawati, a modern-day story wrapped up in a fabulous re-telling of the Arabian Nights.  We both really enjoyed the story, particularly being able to discuss it with each other!  But this time, rather than sharing with you our conversation about the book, we thought we'd just swap reviews.  So below are Heather's very eloquent thoughts on The Hakawati.  My thoughts are much the same, but if you want to read them in my less-beautiful writing style, feel free to hop on over to Heather's blog to see them.

Heather, I'm so glad to have read this with you!

Random side note:  I think every cover of this book is GORGEOUS, so I'm sharing them all in this post :-)

Review: Sweet Dates in Basra

Sweet Dates in Basra, by Jessica Jiji, takes place in Iraq during and soon after WWII.  It begins with two best friends- Omar (Muslim) and Shafiq (Jewish- this confused me as Shafiq to me sounds much more like a Muslim name)- whose families live next door to each other and are very close.  One day, running away from trouble, Omar and Shafiq escape into the house of a friend and Shafiq meets the beautiful housemaid, Kathmiya, and their lives are never the same.

The story winds through the remainder of the war, the riots against Jews as the Germans come in, hints at the threats of Communism and the large, unexpected changes that occur in Iraq following the war.  Through it all, Shafiq & Omar's families support each other, and Shafiq & Kathmiya grow closer and closer.  But there is a secret in Kathmiya's past, and Shafiq's future in Iraq is uncertain.

Review: Mornings in Jenin

Mornings in Jenin by Susan Abulhawa follows a Palestinian family from just before WWII to 2002.  It centers around Amal, a girl born in the Jenin refugee camp in the 1960s and is profoundly affected by the Jewish attack on the camp in her childhood.  Her father never returns, her mother goes insane, and her brother joins the resistance movement.  Amal is sent to an orphanage for schooling and then is given the opportunity to attend college in the US.  She rejoins her brother and his family in Lebanon in the early 1980s and falls in love.  When war again seems imminent, a pregnant Amal leaves Lebanon for the US and her life, and the lives of all those close to her, are altered completely by what follows.  It is only decades later, when Amal returns to Jenin, that her life comes full circle and she has the chance to be at peace.

This book is very intense.  It makes no pretense at being a neutral novel.  Abulhawa is Palestinian and proud and she firmly believes the "inescapable truth that Palestinians paid the price for the Jewish holocaust.  Jews killed [her] mother's family because Germans had killed [theirs]."  However, I feel that the individual Jewish characters in this book are portrayed in a positive light.  Readers can sympathize with them.  As a group, however, of nameless soldiers and political leaders, they are presented very negatively.

Review: The Orphan's Tales - In the Night Garden

Title: The Orphan's Tales: In the Night Garden

Author: Catherynne Valente

Publisher: Spectra

# of Pages: 496

Favorite Line: "Never put your faith in a Prince. When you require a miracle, trust in a Witch."

Rating: 7/10

From Booklist
*Starred Review* The opening volume of the Orphan's Tales begins in a palace garden, where a girl has been abandoned because of the strange, ink-black stain around her eyes and over her eyelids. Because the sultan and his nobles wish to avoid the problem she presents, she is left to wander the gardens, alone until another child, a boy, comes and speaks to her. She reveals the secret of her ink-stained eyes, that they contain many tales. In return for the boy's company, she tells him stories, beginning with the tale of the prince Leander. Each succeeding story grows from the one before it, characters recounting tales they were told and even weaving them back together. There is an entire mythology in this book, in which the themes of familiar fairy tales are picked apart and rearranged into a new and wonderful whole. The narrative is a nested, many-faceted thing, ever circling back to the girl in the palace garden and the prince she is telling the tales to in a wonderful interpretation of what fairy tales ought to be. The illustrations, by Michael Kaluta, constitute an excellent supplement, reminiscent of illustrations of such fairy-tale books as Andrew Lang's, though Kaluta does no toning down for Victorian sensibilities.

I said in my review for The Enchantress of Florence that I like stories within stories. This is usually true, but sometimes it can be a bit exhausting. Valente's book (the first in a two-part series- the second is The Orphan's Tales: In the Cities of Coin and Spice) is a very complex melding of stories within, on top of, next to, and all over other stories. It is a retelling of The Arabian Nights, except Scheherezade is not nearly as interesting as the nameless girl in Valente's tale. But both Scheherezade and the girl in the garden know how to captivate their audience- I was drawn in, ensnared by the stories shared with me. And the book ends on such an abrupt note, with the girl promising more if you just come back to her again... that I will certainly be seeking out the next book.

But really, I don't know if I liked the first one that much, when I think about it. Something about Valente's writing did not jive for me. It is possible this is due to the abrupt starting and pausing and then picking up again of her stories. Unlike The Arabian Nights, where one story leads to another one after cleanly being finished, Valente twists and bends and folds her stories into one another, so that one is embedded in countless others and none of them finishes when you are ready for them to. This is a good way to keep a captive audience, yes, but it can also frustrate them. There are chapters in the book, but once you set the book aside, it is hard to pick up again and remember exactly how many threads and plotlines you are following. Eventually, you catch on again, but it takes some time. Well, I should say that it took some time for me. You all might be much quicker :-)

Also, Valente's breed of fantasy is the kind that I don't generally enjoy. Her stories are littered with strange breeds of creatures (men with dogheads, cyclops, creatures walking on one foot only). While I really enjoy fantasy novels, I generally don't go for the kinds with these random creatures populating them. I prefer the epic fantasy route (peopled with humans, I admit). However, I think if you do like that kind of fantasy, then Valente writes a good story and you will enjoy the world she created. She certainly put a great deal of thought into the mythology and belief systems of her characters.

Overall, I enjoyed the book and certainly will go for the second in the series, but I don't think I'll be reading it immediately. Something about the writing style just didn't work for me right now, and I think it would be unfair for me to read the second book now- so, I am off to browse the bookshelves once more!

Review: The Book of Saladin

Title: The Book of Saladin
Author: Tariq Ali
Publisher: Verso
# of Pages: 368

Second book in the Islam Quintet (a series of unrelated fictional books on the history of Islam)

Favorite Quote: There were many, but this one was very pretty, in my opinion. "O Commander of the Victorious, listening to the sermon the heavens wept tears of joy and the stars abandoned their positions in the firmament not to shoot on the wicked, but to celebrate together."

Rating: 10/10

From Publishers Weekly
A very different novel from Fear of Mirrors reviewed above, Ali's earthy, lusty saga about the fall of Jerusalem to Muslim forces in 1187 rewrites Eurocentric history by focusing on the historical figure Salah al-Din (better known as Saladin), the Kurdish upstart who used his position as sultan of Egypt and Syria to retake the Holy City from Crusaders. Through Saladin's confidences told to a fictive character- Isaac ibn Yahub, his Jewish scribe, who narrates the story- we not only learn of the sultan's marital woes (his favorite wife is having a lesbian affair with another concubine), we also view the Crusades from a non-Christian point of view. In this fiercely lyrical second installment of a projected tetralogy (following Shadows of the Pomegranate Tree), Ali exposes deep wounds between Christian, Muslim and Jewish civilizations that have yet to heal. A digressive arabesque weaving tales of political intrigue, gay and straight love, betrayal, cross-dressing, rape, assassination and crimes of passion, his tale ripples with implicit parallels to our age: Saladin prepares for "the mother of all battles"; his army wages a holy war to liberate Palestine; the Muslim nations are bitterly divided into mutually hostile factions. Some may feel Ali takes liberties too freely, as when Ibn Yahub walks in on his adulterous wife having sex with Maimonides, the celebrated Jewish philosopher; yet, throughout, the main characters sustain a fruitful dialogue on life after death, history, the oppression of women and the nature of spiritual and romantic love.

I really, really liked this book! I came upon it in my search for books on Egypt before my trip there, and found it on Amazon. It sounded good, so I got a copy of it for myself (sadly, my copy is filled with highlights and profound comments in pink glitter pen like, "Lalalalalalalala." I shall have to purchase another one). I'm leading discussion for it at Historical Favorites, and I think discussion will go very well! This book is truly excellent. It's not so long that it exhausts you, and Ali swiftly goes over the war parts, which is wonderful for me :-)

The narrator is a Jewish scribe living in Cairo, hired by the sultan Salah-al-din to tell his story. He tells the story in a straightforward way, without waxing lyrical or poetic. I thoroughly enjoyed the way Ali set up the story, very much in an Arabian Nights-like manner. There are stories within stories, narrators narrating other people's lives, and lively, funny anecdotes that really draw you into the story. We meet a wonderfully diverse array of characters, all of whom have a great deal to add to the story. There is a theme of love throughout the story- the love of friendship, of romance, of intellect, of lust. There are strong female characters who are difficult, at best, to truly understand; there are strong male characters who push the story along. And, at the center, there is Salah-al-din, the charismatic, the brilliant leader who brings Islam together under his tight rein and then, ultimately, loses the war to fractures within his own religion.

The book has so much to offer- not only as an Eastern viewpoint on the seemingly never-ending war of religions in the Middle East, but as a thoroughly entertaining and beautifully-written story. Highly, highly recommended.

Review: Palace Walk

Title: Palace Walk
Author: Naguib Mahfouz
Publisher: Anchor
# of Pages: 512

Book 1 of the Cairo Trilogy

Favorite line: "It's beauty that's made me so bored I'm sick. It's like a new word that dazzles you the first time. Then you keep repeating it and using it until it's no different for you than words like 'dog,' 'worm,' lesson,' and other commonplace expressions. It loses its novelty and appeal. You may even forget its meaning, so that it becomes a strange, meaningless word you can't use. Perhaps someone else will come across it in your essay and be amazed at your brilliance, while you're amazed at their ignorance. Don't wonder about the disaster of being bored by beauty."


Rating: 7.5/10

From Library Journal
This extraordinary novel provides a close look into Cairo society at the end of World War I. Mahfouz's vehicle for this examination is the family of al-Sayyid Ahmad, a middle-class merchant who runs his family strictly according to the Qur'an and directs his own behavior according to his desires. Consequently, while his wife and two daughters remain cloistered at home, and his three sons live in fear of his harsh will, al-Sayyid Ahmad nightly explores the pleasures of Cairo. Written by the first Arabic writer to win the Nobel Prize, Palace Walk begins Mahfouz's highly acclaimed "Cairo Trilogy," which follows Egypt's development from 1917 to nationalism and Nasser in the 1950s. This novel's enchanting style and sweeping social tapestry ensure a large audience, one that will eagerly await the English translation of the entire trilogy. A significant addition to any collection.

Another book I chose for Egyptian immersion value! This one, though, is much more Egypt specific than Arabian Nights.

At the start, I adored this book. I read it while cruising down the Nile, and the pace of the story (quite slow) matched my mood very well. I enjoyed all the characters, interacting with each other in a way utterly foreign to me. The members of the al-Sayyid family are all memorable, compelling and wonderfully well-rounded. It is difficult to like all of them, but it is impossible not to feel *something* (even if it is only pity) for them and for their lives. Only- they certainly don't feel pity for themselves.

Palace Walk is an excellent introduction to the Islamic world in the early 20th century. Have things changed? Well, in Egypt, certainly. But the novel is a no holds barred, brutally honest view of the way life was lived in Egypt in the years leading up to the nationalist movement. Mahfouz makes no excuses for Egyptian life- nor does he apologize for it. He just tells it like it is. And that is a lesson worth learning, especially when it's taught using as lush language as this.

It might have been me and my back pain, but somewhere along the way, I began to get bored with the story. In fact, I began to wonder if there really *was* a story. The novel really just seems like several unrelated incidents pulled together into a book- which is fine, as that's how life is. But I don't read fiction to hear about people living lives like my own. My patience began to run out and I skimmed through the last section of the novel.

That said, though, the book (and its two sequels) won the Nobel Prize for a reason. I fully intend to read the second book in the series, Palace of Desire. And probably the third, Sugar Street.

Review: Arabian Nights

Title: Arabian Nights
Editor: Husain Haddawy
Publisher: W. W. Norton & Co.
# of Pages: 428

Rating: 7/10

Book Description
These stories (and stories within stories, and stories within stories within stories), told by the Princess Shahrazad under the threat of death if she ceases to amuse, first reached the West around 1700. They fired in the European imagination an appetite for the mysterious and exotic which has never left it. Collected over centuries from India, Persia, and Arabia, and ranging from vivacious erotica, animal fables, and adventure fantasies to pointed Sufi tales, the stories of The Arabian Nights provided the daily entertainment of the medieval Islamic world at the height of its glory.

The present new translation by Husain Haddawy is of the Mahdi edition, the definitive Arabic edition of a fourteenth-century Syrian manuscript in the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris, which is the oldest surviving version
of the tales and is considered to be the most authentic. This early version is without the embellishments and additions that appear in later Indian and Egyptian manuscripts, on which all previous English translations were based.

As I took a trip to Egypt over the new year, I thought it fitting that I should read books pertaining to the culture there. So I picked up this authoritative copy (anything by Norton *must* be authoritative, right? I can't be the only one who drools over Norton Critical Editions of classics!) from the library and took it with me for some reading.

This edition is followed by a second edition that includes the better-known stories (including Aladdin). I didn't recognize any of the stories in this edition. Granted, I didn't read every story.

I think the trouble with getting together an "authoritative text" on the Arabian Nights is that the stories were never meant to be compiled into a book and read straight through. The stories are part of a rich oral culture that involved sitting around a fire with fine musical instruments, good food, great company and a storyteller who could draw in extra details and add in any embellishments that he thought the crowd would appreciate. Meaning- you never really heard the same story twice.

All of this is very lost in a print copy. The stories begin to seem repetitive (which they wouldn't, if they were told over the course of a few years by a traveling storyteller) and the language becomes onerous to continue reading again and again.

However, the stories are a lot of fun :-) If you're interested in the Arabian Nights, I would certainly recommend this edition- Haddawy does well in his translation. But I'd also only read a story or two here and there, so that you don't become tired of it. And that way, the magic will still hit you. Or maybe, you can become the storyteller and read it aloud to someone else- it would probably be excellent in that form!