Beirut Blues

by Hanan Al-Shaykh

With the acclaim won by her first two novels, Hanan al-Shaykh established herself as the Arab world's foremost woman writer. Beirut Blues, published to similar acclaim, further confirms her place in Arabic literature, and brings her writing to a new, groundbreaking level.The daring fragmented structure of this epistolary novel mirrors the chaos surrounding the heroine, Asmahan, as she futilely writes letters to her loved ones, to her friends, to Beirut, and to the war itself--letters of lament that are never to be answered except with their own resounding echoes. In Beirut Blues, Hanan al-Shaykh evokes a Beirut that has been seen by few, and that will never be seen again.

Genres: Fiction, Lebanon, Middle East, Literature, Historical Fiction, Womens, Contemporary

386 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 1, 1992

About the author

Hanan Al-Shaykh (Arabic: حنان الشيخ) is a Lebanese journalist, novelist, short-story writer, and playwright. Born into a conservative Shia' Muslim family, she received her primary education in Beirut and later she attended the American College for Girls in Cairo. She began her journalism career in Egypt before returning to Lebanon. Her short stories and novels feature primarily female characters in the face of conservative religious traditions set against the backdrop of political tensions and instability of the Lebanese civil war.

Reviews

[Mbhabibti · Rating 2 out of 5]

I miss Lebanon. That's it, that's the review.

[Talar Khosdeghian · Rating 4 out of 5]

Epistolary novels invariably produce a strange cocktail of emotions: a sense of privilege at being granted access to a person’s innermost thoughts and feelings, mixed with the uncomfortable sense of voyeurism derived from reading someone else’s mail. In Beirut Blues, we are double onlookers: as we read Asmahan’s (or Asma, as she prefers to be called) letters, we see her inner turmoils, and, by extension, the external turmoil of Lebanon’s Civil War. Many of her missives are not directed towards people; in addition to writing to absent friends, past loves, and Billie Holiday, she addresses the war, her home, and the land beneath her feet. She writes to abstract concepts as if they are intimate friends: criticizing the war for fooling her into thinking its chaos is beautiful and lamenting the fact that the land will never go back to the way she remembers it.

Through these letters, we get disjointed peeks and glimpses into Asma’s reality… and what she chooses to share is as poignant as what she chooses to keep to herself. Her textual evasions are subtle and coy, manifesting in a sort of narrative wandering. Though her body is lethargic — even immobile — for large swaths of the story (she spends significant amounts of time in a deep depression, unable to move from her bed, even when bombs are raining down around her home and gunmen roam the rooftops, looking for easy targets), her mind is devastatingly active, penetrating deeply into the heart of things after only a glimpse. Structures and people that existed yesterday may be gone today or tomorrow, and Asma keenly feels this urgency in every aspect of her life, even if she doesn’t communicate it explicitly. Under the looming shadow of her roiling present, the past and future cease to matter. Similarly, her addressees do not matter; they are merely jumping-off points for generalized musing on topics ranging from makeup to bullets. Asma’s mind may run deep, but it is unpredictable. She hops from thought to thought, recollection to recollection, until we as readers are utterly confused as to what is in the past and what is happening now. We find ourselves being pulled along, uncomfortably cognizant that we are not where we intended to be, and yet unable to correct the course because we are unaware of our readerly destination.

For a novel born of conflict, there is very little explicit meditation on death. Though this apparent omission may initially seem like a victim of Asma’s avoidant maneuverings, it is not surprising. Death is no longer an unseen visitor that requires meticulous unveiling; instead, it reaps its gruesome harvest on every street corner and in every home in Beirut. Asma does not speak of it not because it lurks menacingly in the shadows, but because it is so obvious that it requires no comment. It is simply a fact, like the beating of her heart or the rat in her kitchen. These moments of simple truth, regardless of how cruel (or comforting) they may be, flash briefly through the muddled thoughts and feelings that characterize the majority of Asma’s narrative. They are like small lighthouses, glimmering every time we feel helplessly lost and guiding us through the dark, back towards the heart of things.

Asma’s letters, some of them touching, some of them hopeful, some of them devastating, are ultimately about two things: loss and recovery. She teaches us that though loss hurts, it is not necessarily a bad thing all the time; that the things you recover don’t always carry the significance you thought they did; and that, more often than not, loss leads not to recovery but to discovery.

[Kristin]

So, I read the Locust and the Bird by this author and was blown away. I had to try everything else she'd written. Unfortunately, it turns out everything else she's written is weird and off-putting to me, which I guess ultimately makes sense since the Locust and the Bird was a true biography and the rest are fiction. While I was sampling these other works, somewhere in the back of my mind I was thinking, This must surely be considered notable literature, but I just can't get into it. The reason is: this book, and her others except for the biography, seem to jump directly and imminently into the very middle of a snapshot. Not for just a little bit before really delving into the background of what the hell is happening and who these people are, but remaining that way the whole time. It's like straining to overhear a conversation and only getting snippets, none of which tell you anything about what the people are talking about, and you never see them, and can't guess what they're like. In both cases, you walk away with the same thing: a confusing jumble of non-information that cannot aid in your understanding or insight in any way, and which has no bearing on anything in your existence or that of the people you know. Another way to describe it is that it's the same as a poem, without being poetic in language or lilt. It's plain old dialogue and prose, but it's pure and unexplained impression. When I write poems, they're of impressions, and they therefore can never truly make SENSE, per se, to others in the same way they make sense to me. I may write a line that says simply, "orange moon and the warmth of my coat," and while this may evoke something different or nothing sensible for a reader, to me it's an attempt to capture an actual set of real images and circumstances during which I felt an uncanny an abstract thing, and since I myself am its sole "intended audience," it really doesn't matter what anyone thinks of it. I don't think this works well for published prose-and-dialogue novels of length, unless explanations are still present, or the imagery is clear enough to take you into a realized setting or feeling. But when nothing is described except dialogue...Well, my brain hurts. However, I must paradoxically add that is actually written well, which is perhaps obvious when this author is in question, despite not making sense to me, and its inaccessibility is not pretentious. Usually inaccessibility is deliberate and pretentious, but here, I get the sense that it's really just that something deep and complex is trying to be conveyed and it can't be easily distilled. Maybe people from Lebanon or who have experienced Lebanon would find it more accessible? I don't know.

[Andrew · Rating 4 out of 5]

Hanan al-Shaykh, a native Lebanese, writes a hugely evocative novel about her homeland. Beirut Blues is told through a series of letters written by the main character, Asmaran, a woman who has decided to stay in war-ravaged Beirut. The letters are not just to people, they are to the city, and the war also. And those that are to people, you must doubt that they are ever sent---the letters are just a way for Asmaran to tell her feelings about the calamity that surrounds her, as civil wars rage through the city.

And the novel is like the blues. So sad in many ways, a lament for something now gone, that you hope to find again, if you can just stick it out. It is the blues of love, but a love that is no longer valid, but you hope to find again. This is Beirut Blues.

Each letter seems to capture part of Asmaran's story of her life, and how she decided to stay in Lebanon. It is her reflection on those who left, and her confusion as the many sides of the civil war keep changing alliances, and of outside countries invading to try to ostensibly keep the peace, but in reality to make Lebanon dependent on them.

Al-Shaykh writes wonderfully, with her character confused, disoriented but strong too. Each chapter is the beginning of a new letter, but it tells a complete story. Her letter to the war itself is particularly poignant. Beirut Blues captures the soul of this woman, and perhaps the also the soul of the city and country it is an ode to.

[Sara Strömberg · Rating 1 out of 5]

Could not get into this book🫠

[Eman · Rating 3 out of 5]

“why are you thinking of all these things in advance. try it and then decide…..it’s easier living in the middle of what upsets you than running away from it and worrying at a distance. things seem worse from a distance.” damn damn damn

[MarkB · Rating 2 out of 5]

Unusual book - fictional "memoir" of a group of upper class Lebanese Muslim/Palestinian intellectuals who individually chose different paths during the conflicts of the late '60's to '90's. Most chose to leave, few (including the narrator) chose to stay. The book is written as a series of letters to both human and inatimate players in the great tragedy of the demise of Beirut in particular. Somewhat difficult to follow, certainly difficult to empathize with the protaganist.

[Bianca · Rating 1 out of 5]

I have officially given up on Beirut Blues, after struggling with it for quite a while. I might give Hanan Al-Shaykh a try some other time, provided that I find a book of hers that can actually make me empathise with its characters and keep me intrigued. I'm afraid Beirut Blues has done neither and it's a pity, as the idea of the book seemed very appealing. All in all, I would personally not recommend it.

[Raz · Rating 2 out of 5]

I tried really hard to get into this book and slogged my way through to the halfway point but in the end I just found it impenetrable and lost interest. It's a shame because I like her use of language and the characters seem fully formed even though she doesn't really go into that much...I just found that she doesn't provide anywhere near enough background on any of the characters for me to be invested in their story at all.

[b bb bbbb bbbbbbbb · Rating 3 out of 5]

i didn't like this at first, it seemed like it was trying too hard to be touching and significant. but it either got better, or i acclimated. i ended up enjoying it. its a series of letters written to friends, lovers, land, beirut, and the war there.

[Tawni · Rating 3 out of 5]

I enjoyed the last few chapters, and the author's writing, but the beginning of the book jumps into the deep, provides no context, and makes it difficult to understand the author's point. I wouldn't recommend this book to friends, unless they already know a lot about Lebanon, Beirut, and the war.

[Booknblues · Rating 3 out of 5]

Asmahan seems to be unable to move to safety in war-torn Lebanon. She writes to friends and family about what life is like during this time and before. She mourns for the Lebanon and Beirut which she knew previously.

[Katie · Rating 4 out of 5]

A great story in the form of letters about a Lebanese woman torn between leaving war ravaged Beirut and staying in the city she loves. Very well-written and thought-provoking.

[Shanna · Rating 3 out of 5]

Offers a very interesting perspective on living in an unstable and war torn place through the eyes of a young woman who has only known such a place.

[Sarah · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of my old favorites that I read when I was reading loads of Middle Eastern women's lit as part of my undergrad program. Amazingly good.

[Tamara · Rating 3 out of 5]

I had not read much about the war in Lebanon before this novel. It was insightful. Overall I thought it was a well written story.

[Mindy Houston · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ever identify with a character so much it hurt? For anyone like me, you'll find it in this story of war-torn Beirut and a woman lost in that violence, coming to terms with herself and her thoughts.

[Jaime · Rating 4 out of 5]

Interesting read, but you should have prior knowledge of the Lebanese Civil War to get a better understanding of what is happening in the book

[Pat · Rating 3 out of 5]

Slow to get going but starts to grab you and is a moving and graphic depiction of the connection one has with their home.

[Matt Champagne · Rating 2 out of 5]

This was one of the selections in a book club I was in in the mid-nineties. I don't remember liking it so much

[Krisz · Rating 3 out of 5]

I don't really remember this, only that I wasn't impressed.

[Simcha · Rating 2 out of 5]

I would describe this book with one word: disjointed! I had to slog through this book, which almost made it to a DNF shelf.

There were a lot of problems with this book including the following: the main character, Asma, is writing a series of letters to various people, the war, and Beirut. But then the narrative changes and the letter recipient is sometimes referred to in third person, so it's not really a letter anymore but a novel that wants to pretend it's a series of letters. Unfortunately as a novel it is unsuccessful due to how disjointed the pieces were. It was hard to get background for the characters and to establish a sense of continuity. The way she begins to tell another story within a story reads to me as a stream of consciousness (which actually may have been more interesting if it were done in a diary format, because then the disjointedness would actually make sense for a character who is processing wartime.)

I was unclear on the motivations and behaviors of some of the other characters, and unsure what to think/feel about them, since their backgrounds were not well developed.

There is almost no context provided for the war itself, and I'm not sure I understood the depth of her connection to Beirut, which made her thought process in the ending very confusing. I wonder though how much was lost in translation, and I did notice multiple typos throughout the novel.

[Jane Fudger · Rating 4 out of 5]

This novel is s series of letters written by the main character Asmahan who writes to friends, relatives and inanimate scenes as she tries to make sense of her life and the war in Beirut and her isolated home village.
These letters are both evocative, sensual, funny and poignant, told with disarming honesty particularly when she feels she is being held hostage in her own country. An engaging portrait of a passionate woman and a brillant depiction of a country at a crossroads.
A fine and absorbing story

[David Dewata · Rating 3 out of 5]

Saya mengalami kesulitan mencerna cerita di buku ini. Mungkin karena aslinya bukan bahasa Inggris sehingga saya tidak menangkap "jiwa" buku ini. Namun, cara bertutur yang banyak dari orang pertama --bagi saya--sepertinya mendengarkan cerocos bicara tanpa henti. Dan sangat melelahkan mengikuti pola ini. Sungguh perjuangan untuk bisa menyelesaikan membaca buku ini.

[Meg · Rating 3 out of 5]

Written in a series of letters, I found the first third to half of this book felt jumbled and confused. Some of that may have been due to some subpar editing — or maybe it was intentional — that left inconsistent subjects and objects in a couple of the letters. This was a beautiful portrait of Beirut, though, and I think the format lends itself wonderfully to that sort of nostalgia.

[John Carlsson · Rating 3 out of 5]

En brevroman där huvudpersonen, en kvinna i Beirut, berättar om sina upplevelser av det pågående kriget och vad som sker runt omkring detta. Boken engagerar kanske inte hela tiden, men ändå intressant.

[Souad · Rating 5 out of 5]

An exceptional novel depicting a life of a Lebanese woman in a lifeless country. It sheds the light on the different aspects of life under the raging war in Beirut. The least to say, it is breathtaking.

[Tara · Rating 2 out of 5]

The translation was VERY poor!!!

[Frankie · Rating 3 out of 5]

A wartime fever dream. Did I have any idea what was happening? No. Was it beautiful? Absolutely. I love the way the city is written.

[Ines · Rating 4 out of 5]

Beautiful, jarring, disturbing, evocative: it took forever to read but worth every second