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Frauen in der arabischen Welt: Erzählungen
German (translation)
Original Arabic
Original Arabic
219 pages, Paperback
Published January 1, 1988
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May 6, 2021
This book is exceedingly annoying. Not so much for the individual stories by women from the Arab world that are collected herein. But for the selection made by the man who edited the anthology: Suleman Taufiq. Every single story Taufiq chose has at its centre some man or men. Even the stories that start out being about something else sweep around to, lo and behold, the Man At The Centre. The women pine for, lust after, denigrate themselves for, die for, are abused by, think endlessly about some man in their lives. None of these women seems to have an important other relationship: to a sister, a mother, a daughter, an aunt, a girlfriend. Or even a relationship to a man who is not the Man At The Centre. One story, sure. Even two, because yes, oppression and women's collusion in it exists and is fodder for literature. But Every Single Story with no alternative perspective? >:(
And the men? Invariably abusive. Invariable cardboard cut-outs. Invariably illustrations of patriarchal oppression -- but without the feminist critique of social institutions and systems. The only contribution that is at all feminist is the final one, the two letters exchanged between two feminists: finally, some women communicating with each other!
Why am I ranting about editorial choice? Because I cannot believe that there are no other short stories in the entire Arab world. Because, indeed, I have read some books that do not inevitably centre on A Man. (Not enough but some: The Queue; Woman at Point Zero; Girls of Riyadh.) Sure, some of these books, too, contain oppressive men but the stories are also more than just a description of oppression. And the exclusive selection of Woman Narrator Obsessed By Oppressive Man is in itself oppressive and made me rage at the editor. I wish the publishers had chosen a woman editor for this task. And the early publication date (1988) is no excuse, either: by this point, second-wave feminism had been around for over two decades, and there were plenty of woman-run publishing houses to furnish alternative voices. Interestingly, the 1980s date may link to the almost total absence of Islam in these stories: to an editor of that era, religion simply did not seem the most relevant aspect of the Arab world. How times have changed.
The marketing of this paperback by the publisher dtv goes hand-in-glove with the annoying editorial selection. The cover of my 2004 edition features the stereotypical woman wearing a headscarf, standing in front of some vaguely delineated building - mosque? ruin? temple? - in a desertish landscape, squinting vaguely into the distance with lipstick-red lips. Sigh. The 1988 cover illustrated by Goodreads is not much better: wistful gazing? Tick. Orientalising window design with vague connotations of being imprisoned indoors? Tick. Mosque? Tick. Young handsome woman? Tick. Missing is the headscarf (and that is in itself interesting: by 2004, modest Islamic clothing has entered the equation of how to market an 'Arab' book).
Here is the content, country by country (that is not how the book arranges the stories but that is how I read them: moving geographically from Morocco, along the African mediterranean coast, via Palestine and Syria down the Gulf coast and on to Saudi Arabia). Countries not featured in this collection: Yemen, Oman, Qatar, Jordan, Libya. Also not featured: Israel (perpetuating the notion that Israel is a non-Arab state in an otherwise Arab region, somehow naturally distinct from Palestine). As such, the wide selection of countries seemed promising. It is frustrating that the dates of original publication are not given.
Morocco:
Malika Moustadhraf, Halluzination.
Latifa Libssir, Lärm. Na ja.
Algeria:
Hawa Djabali, Die Agave. Na ja.
Tunisia:
Nafla Dhahab, Gespräch über das Schweigen. This one I liked a lot.
Egypt:
Alifa Rifaat, Wenn der Nil über die Ufer tritt.
Nawal El Saadawi, Die Maske.
Salwa Bakr, Die Nacht gehört dem Soldaten. This one was fine.
Miral Al-Tahawi, Schlafträume. Na ja.
Palestine:
Sahar Khalifa, Memoiren einer unrealistischen Frau. Stupid.
Lebanon:
Hanan Al-Shaykh, In einem marokkanischen Bad.
Mouna Jabur, Kain. Na ja.
Etel Adnan, Weiter. Na ja.
Syria:
Ghada Samman, Das Leben hat gerade angefangen.
Lucy Salahian, Von der Liebe ausgeschlossen.
Iraq:
Loutfia Al-Delimi, Leichter als die Engel. Na ja.
Kuwait:
Laila Al-Osman, Die Schale. I quite liked this one.
Bahrain:
Fawzia Raschid, Eine unbeendete Geschichte. This one was OK.
United Arab Emirates:
Salma Matar Saif, Die Hymne. This one I liked a lot.
Saudi Arabia:
Badriyyah Al-Bishir, Mittwochnacht. This one was fine.
Correspondence between May Ziada (Palestine) and Bahithat Al-Badia (Egypt).
Read for the Reading Women Challenge 2021, prompt #20 'Arab author in translation'. The stories here were translated from the Arabic, French, English and Armenian into German. My niece found this book in one of those boxes left outside people's homes during the pandemic: Free to take. She said, "I thought of you; you probably have some challenge going that would fit this book." And so I did. :)
And the men? Invariably abusive. Invariable cardboard cut-outs. Invariably illustrations of patriarchal oppression -- but without the feminist critique of social institutions and systems. The only contribution that is at all feminist is the final one, the two letters exchanged between two feminists: finally, some women communicating with each other!
Why am I ranting about editorial choice? Because I cannot believe that there are no other short stories in the entire Arab world. Because, indeed, I have read some books that do not inevitably centre on A Man. (Not enough but some: The Queue; Woman at Point Zero; Girls of Riyadh.) Sure, some of these books, too, contain oppressive men but the stories are also more than just a description of oppression. And the exclusive selection of Woman Narrator Obsessed By Oppressive Man is in itself oppressive and made me rage at the editor. I wish the publishers had chosen a woman editor for this task. And the early publication date (1988) is no excuse, either: by this point, second-wave feminism had been around for over two decades, and there were plenty of woman-run publishing houses to furnish alternative voices. Interestingly, the 1980s date may link to the almost total absence of Islam in these stories: to an editor of that era, religion simply did not seem the most relevant aspect of the Arab world. How times have changed.
The marketing of this paperback by the publisher dtv goes hand-in-glove with the annoying editorial selection. The cover of my 2004 edition features the stereotypical woman wearing a headscarf, standing in front of some vaguely delineated building - mosque? ruin? temple? - in a desertish landscape, squinting vaguely into the distance with lipstick-red lips. Sigh. The 1988 cover illustrated by Goodreads is not much better: wistful gazing? Tick. Orientalising window design with vague connotations of being imprisoned indoors? Tick. Mosque? Tick. Young handsome woman? Tick. Missing is the headscarf (and that is in itself interesting: by 2004, modest Islamic clothing has entered the equation of how to market an 'Arab' book).
Here is the content, country by country (that is not how the book arranges the stories but that is how I read them: moving geographically from Morocco, along the African mediterranean coast, via Palestine and Syria down the Gulf coast and on to Saudi Arabia). Countries not featured in this collection: Yemen, Oman, Qatar, Jordan, Libya. Also not featured: Israel (perpetuating the notion that Israel is a non-Arab state in an otherwise Arab region, somehow naturally distinct from Palestine). As such, the wide selection of countries seemed promising. It is frustrating that the dates of original publication are not given.
Morocco:
Malika Moustadhraf, Halluzination.
Latifa Libssir, Lärm. Na ja.
Algeria:
Hawa Djabali, Die Agave. Na ja.
Tunisia:
Nafla Dhahab, Gespräch über das Schweigen. This one I liked a lot.
Egypt:
Alifa Rifaat, Wenn der Nil über die Ufer tritt.
Nawal El Saadawi, Die Maske.
Salwa Bakr, Die Nacht gehört dem Soldaten. This one was fine.
Miral Al-Tahawi, Schlafträume. Na ja.
Palestine:
Sahar Khalifa, Memoiren einer unrealistischen Frau. Stupid.
Lebanon:
Hanan Al-Shaykh, In einem marokkanischen Bad.
Mouna Jabur, Kain. Na ja.
Etel Adnan, Weiter. Na ja.
Syria:
Ghada Samman, Das Leben hat gerade angefangen.
Lucy Salahian, Von der Liebe ausgeschlossen.
Iraq:
Loutfia Al-Delimi, Leichter als die Engel. Na ja.
Kuwait:
Laila Al-Osman, Die Schale. I quite liked this one.
Bahrain:
Fawzia Raschid, Eine unbeendete Geschichte. This one was OK.
United Arab Emirates:
Salma Matar Saif, Die Hymne. This one I liked a lot.
Saudi Arabia:
Badriyyah Al-Bishir, Mittwochnacht. This one was fine.
Correspondence between May Ziada (Palestine) and Bahithat Al-Badia (Egypt).
Read for the Reading Women Challenge 2021, prompt #20 'Arab author in translation'. The stories here were translated from the Arabic, French, English and Armenian into German. My niece found this book in one of those boxes left outside people's homes during the pandemic: Free to take. She said, "I thought of you; you probably have some challenge going that would fit this book." And so I did. :)
Displaying 1 of 1 review