Not entirely a review but something I wrote up on this book:
As Rafiq Zakari and Khushwant Singh both recognize, in Shikwa and Jawab-i-Shikwa, Muhammad Iqbal binds himself to and enters into conversation with Sufi Muslims and the forms of literature they composed. He approaches the seemingly primordial relationship between the lover (here, the complainer in Shikwa) and the beloved (God), though in a particularly intimate and different way. I have often seen this relationship presented either as a form of purely positive obsession, intoxication, and admiration or some kind of a relationship that tends toward mutual self-destruction but loving embrace nonetheless. In these two poems, Iqbal brings us to a conception of love that is tense, coarse, and painful. It is tied to other Sufi depictions of love in that it presents a most subversive, perhaps even self-destructive kind of love. In its differences, though, I believe these poems take the “Problem of Evil”—a question, subject of religious apologetics, and dazing problem of theology centered around the presence of ‘evil’ and suffering in the face of a purportedly benevolent God—and reshape it. Such a problem transforms from one where suffering is totaled and summed, almost mathematically, for the sake of mounting a critique against God’s existence, and instead becomes a subject of intimacy and abandonment. That does not mean that the physical, empirical, and material are not counted here, because they are, specifically in the form of material devastation wrought unto Muslims through imperialism. If anything, it is this acknowledgment that seems to defend, at least for me, these poems from the critique of a blind kind of arrogance; it seems that the apparent egoism and arrogance of the lover is intended. Perhaps through caricature—as dialogical poems can do particularly well—this lover embodies what these conditions have done to Muslims. The lover, here, embodies a deep sense of contradiction. They feel as though they are owed something, and repeatedly recall a perhaps partially mythicized past in order to make their case. I believe this is where the poems ask us to consider how memory and the way it gets repeatedly warped, remolded, and reframed interacts with suffering. Lamentation as an expression of a mythicized—partially real, partially questionable—past with the hope of attaining retribution presents us with an image of the lover and beloved when they have to grapple with the nafs (the ego, super-ego, id, or other such translations) as an intervening force. What seemed to foreground both of these poems is the idea that “It is in our nature to always praise You, a small plaint also hear” (Iqbal 29), which I took to mean that no matter the tone, no matter the presence of doubt, the nafs, or potential heresy, this interaction is rooted in praise, in love. It emerges from the heart—a site that is positioned as, at its core, pure, sacred, and divine. Clearly, there is a lot here, but I think this summarizes some themes and traveling ideas I considered most significant and worth looking out for as we read other texts.