One building in Cairo becomes the focus for a multitude of different people facing different struggles. Zaki el Dessouki is an aged playboy who lives with his spiteful sister, and whose golden age has long since passed. Busayna el Sayed is a poor young woman who is forced to sell her body in order to support her family. Her boyfriend, Taha el Shazli, finds his dreams squashed repeatedly because of his low social status, and gradually feels the tug toward an Islamic fundamentalism that hides something darker. Hatim Rasheed is a gay editor who can only express himself in terms of power and manipulation. And the worst of all, Hagg Azzam, is a millionaire who buys a spot in the political machine, only to discover that as rich as he is, there are always powers capable of buying and destroying him. As the book develops, these and more characters weave in and out of each other's lives, some never quite meeting despite sharing the same chaotic space in the world.
This is the last installment of my Arabic literature reviews. As far as I know, this one is not indicative of typical Egyptian novels; the professor told us that more than any book he knows, it's intended to offend everybody. So buckle in.
The fascinating aspect of this book is its unresolved question of who is a good person, and who is evil. A dedicated third-person narration washes the authors hands of this somewhat, but of course the events of the plot speak to a certain expectation of life's outcomes. So we, the readers, must decide whether each character receives his just desserts, or whether the outcomes are random. Some characters fall disgracefully, while others find a little happiness at last. For the most part, the resolution is bleak. Such is life, I suppose.
At the same time, however, there's something about almost every character that draws out some sympathy. This is especially true of the two young characters, Busayna and Taha. Both are totally demeaned throughout the course of the story. Though I disagree with my classmate who sees Busayna as a total victim, with no volition of her own, I understand her as an expression that few condemnable actions are total choices, easy to avoid, and that no lifestyle stands on its own. Certainly Busayna is hurt more than she ever hurts anyone else, even herself. Taha, on the other hand, carries this example to its extreme. Unlike Busayna, he is never offered any alternative to the path he eventually follows, other than the option to remain poor and untouchable. A variety of forces, no single one to blame, warp his brain and his values into something he thinks is holy. To me, Taha's resolution is the most heartbreaking part of the story and of any piece of this course.
The book is very explicit about violence and sex; be aware of that when picking it up. And be ready for some psychological trauma. But other than that, it's an intelligent read with a variety of subtle values. Give it a try if you're on a postmodern kick and want to read something non-Western.
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