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Beyond Babylon
Introduction by Jhumpa Lahiri
Recipient of a prestigious 2018 PEN/Heim Translation Fund Grant
An epic spread across three nations, Beyond Babylon casts a probing, endlessly perceptive eye on the lasting effects of traumas both national and personal. Telling the engrossing lives of two half-sisters who meet coincidentally in Tunisia, their mothers, and the elusive father who ties all their stories together, Igiaba Scego’s virtuosic novel spreads thickly over Argentina’s horrific dirty war, the chaotic final years of Siad Barre’s brutal dictatorship in Somalia—which ended in catastrophic civil war—and the modern-day excesses of Italy’s right-wing politics.
United by the Italian government’s attempts to establish authoritarian politics in Somalia, Argentina, and at home, Scego’s kaleidoscopic plot investigates deep questions about our complicity in the governments that we often feel powerless to affect. In its myriad characters, locations, and languages, it brings new definition to identity in a fast-changing world of migrants and political upheaval. Most of all, Scego’s five poignant lives anchor this sprawling work as they fight to build family ties while overcoming past violations, including governmental torture and sexual assault. A masterwork equally as adept with the lives of nations as those of human beings, Beyond Babylon brings much-needed insight, compassion, and understanding to our turbulent world.
Recipient of a prestigious 2018 PEN/Heim Translation Fund Grant
An epic spread across three nations, Beyond Babylon casts a probing, endlessly perceptive eye on the lasting effects of traumas both national and personal. Telling the engrossing lives of two half-sisters who meet coincidentally in Tunisia, their mothers, and the elusive father who ties all their stories together, Igiaba Scego’s virtuosic novel spreads thickly over Argentina’s horrific dirty war, the chaotic final years of Siad Barre’s brutal dictatorship in Somalia—which ended in catastrophic civil war—and the modern-day excesses of Italy’s right-wing politics.
United by the Italian government’s attempts to establish authoritarian politics in Somalia, Argentina, and at home, Scego’s kaleidoscopic plot investigates deep questions about our complicity in the governments that we often feel powerless to affect. In its myriad characters, locations, and languages, it brings new definition to identity in a fast-changing world of migrants and political upheaval. Most of all, Scego’s five poignant lives anchor this sprawling work as they fight to build family ties while overcoming past violations, including governmental torture and sexual assault. A masterwork equally as adept with the lives of nations as those of human beings, Beyond Babylon brings much-needed insight, compassion, and understanding to our turbulent world.
407 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 5, 2008
23 people are currently reading
838 people want to read
About the author
Igiaba Scego
36 books230 followersIgiaba Scego is an Italian writer, journalist, and activist of Somali origin. She graduated with her BA in Foreign Literature at the First University of Rome (La Sapienza) as well as in pedagogy at the Third University of Rome. Presently, she is writing and researching cultural dialogue and migration.
She writes for various magazines that deal with migrant literature, in particular Carta, El-Ghibli and Migra. Her work, not devoid of autobiographical references, are characterized by the delicate balance between her two cultural realities, the Italian and Somalian.
In 2003, she won the Eks & Tra prize for migrant writers with her story "Salsicce", and published her debut novel, La nomade che amava Alfred Hitchcock. In 2006 she attended the Literature festival in Mantua.
Scego collaborates with newspapers such as La Repubblica and Il manifesto and also writes for the magazine Nigrizia with a column of news and reflection, "The colors of Eve". In 2007 along with Ingy Mubiayi, she edited the short story collection 'Quando nasci è una roulette. Giovani figli di migranti si raccontano.' It follows the story of seven boys and girls of African origin, who were born in Rome of foreign parents or came to Italy when young: the story of their schooling, their relationship with family and with peers, religion, racism in Italy, and their dreams.
She writes for various magazines that deal with migrant literature, in particular Carta, El-Ghibli and Migra. Her work, not devoid of autobiographical references, are characterized by the delicate balance between her two cultural realities, the Italian and Somalian.
In 2003, she won the Eks & Tra prize for migrant writers with her story "Salsicce", and published her debut novel, La nomade che amava Alfred Hitchcock. In 2006 she attended the Literature festival in Mantua.
Scego collaborates with newspapers such as La Repubblica and Il manifesto and also writes for the magazine Nigrizia with a column of news and reflection, "The colors of Eve". In 2007 along with Ingy Mubiayi, she edited the short story collection 'Quando nasci è una roulette. Giovani figli di migranti si raccontano.' It follows the story of seven boys and girls of African origin, who were born in Rome of foreign parents or came to Italy when young: the story of their schooling, their relationship with family and with peers, religion, racism in Italy, and their dreams.
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November 19, 2023
Oh, Mar, you have so many cities within you. You represent Venice and also Genoa, Lisbon, Buenos Aires, Mogadishu, Rome. And who knows how many others, hija. What absurd journeys your ancestors made to be able to create you, star of my sky.
Beyond Babylon, translated by Aaron Robertson from Igiaba Scego's Italian original Oltre Babilonia is the latest from Two Lines Press.
The story focuses on two girls, half-sisters although they do not realise it, living in Rome, but of (part) Somalian descent.
It is told in 8 section each with 5 chapters that switch between the different perspectives (sometimes first person, sometimes priviliged third person) of five characters, the girls and their mothers, both also living in Italy. The chapters have the titles: and main characters -
Nus-nus: Mar Gonçalves, of mixed Argentine-Somali descent (Nus-Nus is Somali for “half and half"), and also recovering from a traumatic incident when her lesbian lover first insist Mar get pregnant, inseminated by a male friend, then that she abort the child, and then herself committed suicide. Although her reflections on Argentina also include her love of football and her own vocation as a goalkeeper, following her idol Amadeo Carrizo, perhaps the most influential goalkeeper of all time (https://ahalftimereport.com/2015/12/1...).
The Negropolitana: Zuhra Laamane, a victim of sexual abuse from the school caretaker when a child, and now unable, pyschologically, to see the colour red.
The Reaparecida: Miranda Gonçalves, a poet originally from Buenos Aires, and Mar's mother, now living in exile in Italy after her brother became one of the los desaparecidos, detained and tortured by the Argentinian military regime in ESMA (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Navy_Pe...) and almost certainly later murdered.
The Pessottimista: Maryam Laamane, originally from Mogadishu but who fled the Siad Barre regime, whose closest and oldest friend, who came with her from Somalia to Rome, has just died. Her sections are in the form of a tape recording of thoughts to Zuhra, who asks her if she experienced pleasure when sleeping with Zuhra's father. Her account starts with the declaration of independence for Somalia in 1960.
The father: Elias also from Somalia, Maryam's ex-husband and Zuhra's father, but also, after a one-night affair with Miranda, Mar's father. Elias's section is also in the form of a recording that he is asked to make by Mayram for Zuhra, who doesn't even know his name, in which he is supposed to introduce himself, but which he uses to explain not himself but his own family background.
Mar, Miranda and Zahra (who is a fan of Miranda's poetry) all meet in an Arabic language school in Tunisia in the mid-2000s, although unaware of the connection between them.
The novel comes with a helpful introduction from Jhumpa Lahiri, reproduced here:
https://www.nybooks.com/daily/2019/04... and the translator also provides a helpful overview here (https://pen.org/from-beyond-babylon/) alongside an extract from a section written by Miranda, addressed to Mar and looking back on Argentina:
I only learned who had been detained in Esma afterwards, though. We discovered a lot of things afterwards. Before, nobody knew, they suspected. Or rather, we all pretended not to know. They kidnapped your neighbors, and you covered your ears as forcefully as you could. The soldiers turned the radio volume up. You didn’t overthink if one day you didn’t see Veronica again, who always went to buy bread for her mother. Beautiful smile, eighteen years old, a baby bump, her whole life ahead of her. And then suddenly, no more Veronica, no more bread for her mother, and her child perhaps adopted by assassins. These were recurring things in Argentina. One couldn’t fret about it. An entire country was desaparecido. Everyone pretending like things were going fine. You went grocery shopping, you planned parties, you watched the World Cup. But then, when someone you knew was swallowed up, chupado, as they say now, you thanked the on-duty military for turning the volume up. Hearing a man scream like slaughtered veal did not sit well with anyone, and it ruined your digestion.
One of Scego's key themes is how Italian fascism was essentially exported to Argentina, and the dictatorship there which modelled itself on Mussolini's movement, but also to Somalia. In the 1950s, Somalia was designated an Italian protectorate, with the idea of the Italian colonial powers establishing democracy, but in the view expressed in the novel, they instead taught the Somalians what they knew best - corruption and fascism, leading to the dictatorship of Mohamed Siad Barre.
Behind Alcide De Gasperi stood everyone else, people like him, founding fathers. They had fought Mussolini and fascism. Valorous people. But on the colonial question they behaved exactly like The Duce.
The background of the section sets in Tunisia also focuses on the lingering effects of Western neo-liberalism and colonialism on the society. The passages that follows is particularly prophetic given the novel was published in 2008 - the Arab Spring was to begin with protests in Tunisia two years later:
Sometimes there was an ephermeal twinkle in the well-mannered Tunisians' eyes. In some eyes more than others. A shimmer. It wasn't slyness. It was hatred. Hatred for the fact that Tunisia's land was besmirched with Western artifice. Hatred for a dictatorship that had devoured their rights, their dreams, their belongings. But it was only a shimmer. The violence had to be sedated for a while yet. It would come soon enough.
This is also a visceral novel, with a particular focus on the repression of female sexuality and, in particular the practice of FGM, but more widely, as Lahiri explains:
In terms of its political resonance, particularly between Italy, Argentina and Somalia, the book was a success. But I found it a little less successful as a story - having brought the two girls (and one of their mothers) together, Scego doesn't then really do anything with this set-up, and there is a lot of detail of the other classmates on the language course, and other characters in their personal backstories that felt rather a distraction.
3.5 stars
Beyond Babylon, translated by Aaron Robertson from Igiaba Scego's Italian original Oltre Babilonia is the latest from Two Lines Press.
The story focuses on two girls, half-sisters although they do not realise it, living in Rome, but of (part) Somalian descent.
It is told in 8 section each with 5 chapters that switch between the different perspectives (sometimes first person, sometimes priviliged third person) of five characters, the girls and their mothers, both also living in Italy. The chapters have the titles: and main characters -
Nus-nus: Mar Gonçalves, of mixed Argentine-Somali descent (Nus-Nus is Somali for “half and half"), and also recovering from a traumatic incident when her lesbian lover first insist Mar get pregnant, inseminated by a male friend, then that she abort the child, and then herself committed suicide. Although her reflections on Argentina also include her love of football and her own vocation as a goalkeeper, following her idol Amadeo Carrizo, perhaps the most influential goalkeeper of all time (https://ahalftimereport.com/2015/12/1...).
The Negropolitana: Zuhra Laamane, a victim of sexual abuse from the school caretaker when a child, and now unable, pyschologically, to see the colour red.
The Reaparecida: Miranda Gonçalves, a poet originally from Buenos Aires, and Mar's mother, now living in exile in Italy after her brother became one of the los desaparecidos, detained and tortured by the Argentinian military regime in ESMA (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Navy_Pe...) and almost certainly later murdered.
The Pessottimista: Maryam Laamane, originally from Mogadishu but who fled the Siad Barre regime, whose closest and oldest friend, who came with her from Somalia to Rome, has just died. Her sections are in the form of a tape recording of thoughts to Zuhra, who asks her if she experienced pleasure when sleeping with Zuhra's father. Her account starts with the declaration of independence for Somalia in 1960.
The father: Elias also from Somalia, Maryam's ex-husband and Zuhra's father, but also, after a one-night affair with Miranda, Mar's father. Elias's section is also in the form of a recording that he is asked to make by Mayram for Zuhra, who doesn't even know his name, in which he is supposed to introduce himself, but which he uses to explain not himself but his own family background.
Mar, Miranda and Zahra (who is a fan of Miranda's poetry) all meet in an Arabic language school in Tunisia in the mid-2000s, although unaware of the connection between them.
The novel comes with a helpful introduction from Jhumpa Lahiri, reproduced here:
https://www.nybooks.com/daily/2019/04... and the translator also provides a helpful overview here (https://pen.org/from-beyond-babylon/) alongside an extract from a section written by Miranda, addressed to Mar and looking back on Argentina:
I only learned who had been detained in Esma afterwards, though. We discovered a lot of things afterwards. Before, nobody knew, they suspected. Or rather, we all pretended not to know. They kidnapped your neighbors, and you covered your ears as forcefully as you could. The soldiers turned the radio volume up. You didn’t overthink if one day you didn’t see Veronica again, who always went to buy bread for her mother. Beautiful smile, eighteen years old, a baby bump, her whole life ahead of her. And then suddenly, no more Veronica, no more bread for her mother, and her child perhaps adopted by assassins. These were recurring things in Argentina. One couldn’t fret about it. An entire country was desaparecido. Everyone pretending like things were going fine. You went grocery shopping, you planned parties, you watched the World Cup. But then, when someone you knew was swallowed up, chupado, as they say now, you thanked the on-duty military for turning the volume up. Hearing a man scream like slaughtered veal did not sit well with anyone, and it ruined your digestion.
One of Scego's key themes is how Italian fascism was essentially exported to Argentina, and the dictatorship there which modelled itself on Mussolini's movement, but also to Somalia. In the 1950s, Somalia was designated an Italian protectorate, with the idea of the Italian colonial powers establishing democracy, but in the view expressed in the novel, they instead taught the Somalians what they knew best - corruption and fascism, leading to the dictatorship of Mohamed Siad Barre.
Behind Alcide De Gasperi stood everyone else, people like him, founding fathers. They had fought Mussolini and fascism. Valorous people. But on the colonial question they behaved exactly like The Duce.
The background of the section sets in Tunisia also focuses on the lingering effects of Western neo-liberalism and colonialism on the society. The passages that follows is particularly prophetic given the novel was published in 2008 - the Arab Spring was to begin with protests in Tunisia two years later:
Sometimes there was an ephermeal twinkle in the well-mannered Tunisians' eyes. In some eyes more than others. A shimmer. It wasn't slyness. It was hatred. Hatred for the fact that Tunisia's land was besmirched with Western artifice. Hatred for a dictatorship that had devoured their rights, their dreams, their belongings. But it was only a shimmer. The violence had to be sedated for a while yet. It would come soon enough.
This is also a visceral novel, with a particular focus on the repression of female sexuality and, in particular the practice of FGM, but more widely, as Lahiri explains:
the novel is steeped in bodily imagery and thick with bodily traumas. In Rome, a city known for its appreciation of the quinto quarto—the parts of the animal most people ignore, prized in Roman cooking—this focus on the body and its functions, its innards, its mysterious and occult workings, its cramps and urges, is particularly resonant. This is a novel that talks openly about defecating, menstruating, vomiting, fornicating, and evacuating—not just urine and feces and uterine linings, but also life itself, in the course of an abortion. It can claim Rabelais as an ancestor, and Boccaccio. It elevates what society tells us to keep to a private sphere, and makes it the subject for literature.
In terms of its political resonance, particularly between Italy, Argentina and Somalia, the book was a success. But I found it a little less successful as a story - having brought the two girls (and one of their mothers) together, Scego doesn't then really do anything with this set-up, and there is a lot of detail of the other classmates on the language course, and other characters in their personal backstories that felt rather a distraction.
3.5 stars
July 30, 2019
This book demands a re-read from me. Because I need to admit here at the beginning of my review that this book was too erudite for me, the first time through. Not too complex or too experimental or too literary--what I mean is that this novel demanded an intellectual, humanistic and historical knowledge from me that I didn't have.
Insurrecto by Gina Apostol is another novel I read recently that made me feel like my prior knowledge wasn't up to what the story demanded of me. In the case of Apostol's book, though, I could just power through, without worrying about what I was missing. I found Insurrecto to be a magnificent read in spite of my shortcomings. I was not that book's perfect reader by any means, but I still loved it.
In the case of Scego's novel, though, the historical layers are more complicated, and I feel as if the parts of the story that I didn't intuitively understand were more critical to the whole, to the point where I spent a fair amount of time looking up historical and biographical and geographical references as I read along. This necessary interruption of my reading made the novel feel somewhat mediated, and it was less powerful to me because of this feeling.
This novel was nonetheless a gorgeous reading experience, especially for its deep, liquid-y female-ness--for all the parts where the story revealed its humanity, without demanding that I know all the facts. And I'll look forward to reading it again, now that I have more of an understanding of the shape of this novel than I had the first time through.
Insurrecto by Gina Apostol is another novel I read recently that made me feel like my prior knowledge wasn't up to what the story demanded of me. In the case of Apostol's book, though, I could just power through, without worrying about what I was missing. I found Insurrecto to be a magnificent read in spite of my shortcomings. I was not that book's perfect reader by any means, but I still loved it.
In the case of Scego's novel, though, the historical layers are more complicated, and I feel as if the parts of the story that I didn't intuitively understand were more critical to the whole, to the point where I spent a fair amount of time looking up historical and biographical and geographical references as I read along. This necessary interruption of my reading made the novel feel somewhat mediated, and it was less powerful to me because of this feeling.
This novel was nonetheless a gorgeous reading experience, especially for its deep, liquid-y female-ness--for all the parts where the story revealed its humanity, without demanding that I know all the facts. And I'll look forward to reading it again, now that I have more of an understanding of the shape of this novel than I had the first time through.
June 29, 2019
[3.5] Igiaba Scego’s Beyond Babylon, in Aaron Robertson’s excellent translation from the Italian, is a sprawling novel that examines black and mixed women’s experiences of contemporary Italy and its history of fascism through various strands of narrative that extend to Tunisia, Somalia, and Argentina in the past and now. All five main characters are given their own voice and we hear them in the same order in eight rounds, amassing into a sweeping novel of nearly 450 pages in relatively small type, bordering on what the critic James Wood would probably call hysterical realism. However, what makes Beyond Babylon different from the usual slew of postmodern megalomanic novels is that (1) it’s not American, (2) it’s not written or even translated by a white person, and (3) it does not shy away from depicting these women’s lives in what I suppose is a more realistic way. Menstrual blood, sexual thoughts – what a shocker!
It’s not always easy to keep track of each storyline although they’re all interconnected – Paul’s review, as usual, comes in handy. Moreover, the novel falls prey to a problem I have with some longer novels, i.e. feeling restless/fatigued for the last hundred pages. Overall, however, I found this an impressive novel, one that, considering also its important subject matter, I hope will get more recognition in the future. Even if details of the plot will soon be forgotten, I think I’ll remember the rich variety of languages and cultures it displays, as well as some of the more brutal bits (there are sections dealing with female genital mutilation – consider this a content warning) and also the way the novel manages to be funny despite all the struggle these characters go through.
It’s not always easy to keep track of each storyline although they’re all interconnected – Paul’s review, as usual, comes in handy. Moreover, the novel falls prey to a problem I have with some longer novels, i.e. feeling restless/fatigued for the last hundred pages. Overall, however, I found this an impressive novel, one that, considering also its important subject matter, I hope will get more recognition in the future. Even if details of the plot will soon be forgotten, I think I’ll remember the rich variety of languages and cultures it displays, as well as some of the more brutal bits (there are sections dealing with female genital mutilation – consider this a content warning) and also the way the novel manages to be funny despite all the struggle these characters go through.
July 25, 2021
Surprised that it has not more reviews. This is a great book depicting two half sisters that are not aware of each other which the narrative brings us to Somalia and Argentina and their democratic struggles. It also talked about feminism, same sax love and female circumcision. Only drawback? I was surprised it was translated by a male as it is a very feminine book.
July 17, 2021
un po' come a dire che siamo fatti degli intrecci di chi ci ha preceduto, di chi ci ha amato, pensato, odiato, aspettato con pazienza. Un viaggio meraviglioso.
Read
June 10, 2025Many years ago, I decided to take on the challenge of reading a book from every country in the world. After a while I realized that the complexity of borders, languages, and modes of storytelling around the globe make it impossible to assign stories to places in the way I'd envisioned.
Beyond Babylon, like its characters and author, can't be pinned down as representing any single nation or culture. I was not really aware of the history of Italian colonialization and political destabilization in Somalia before reading this book. Setting it in conversation with Argentina's similarly complex history, while taking place in Tunisia, gave me a lot to think about in terms of how cultures and identities are shaped. The writing captured the alienation and trauma of being caught in the crosshairs of political forces, while simply wanting to live a normal life, in a way that I feel many other books about colonialism and diaspora haven't (at least for me).
This wasn't a light read. All five of the interconnected protagonists dealt with layered traumas that were reflected in real ways--the loss of colors, of desire, of vulnerability. It never felt like the trauma was being milked for emotion but rather used to show how violence and violations strip people of their basic humanity (in the sense that they feel less connected to their own bodies, minds, and human experience--not that they actually become any less human).
I flagged a page near the end of the book that discussed how the Somali language was formalized in a Western alphabet by the government in the 1970s, erasing prior written forms of the language. That example really reminded me of the futility of using books to understand the world, though it's something I'm sure I'll continue to try. The "purest" examples (if such a thing exists) of Somali experience couldn't be found in an Italian novel. Yet the history of Italy's colonialization of Somalia is as pure an experience as anything else.
Beyond Babylon, like its characters and author, can't be pinned down as representing any single nation or culture. I was not really aware of the history of Italian colonialization and political destabilization in Somalia before reading this book. Setting it in conversation with Argentina's similarly complex history, while taking place in Tunisia, gave me a lot to think about in terms of how cultures and identities are shaped. The writing captured the alienation and trauma of being caught in the crosshairs of political forces, while simply wanting to live a normal life, in a way that I feel many other books about colonialism and diaspora haven't (at least for me).
This wasn't a light read. All five of the interconnected protagonists dealt with layered traumas that were reflected in real ways--the loss of colors, of desire, of vulnerability. It never felt like the trauma was being milked for emotion but rather used to show how violence and violations strip people of their basic humanity (in the sense that they feel less connected to their own bodies, minds, and human experience--not that they actually become any less human).
I flagged a page near the end of the book that discussed how the Somali language was formalized in a Western alphabet by the government in the 1970s, erasing prior written forms of the language. That example really reminded me of the futility of using books to understand the world, though it's something I'm sure I'll continue to try. The "purest" examples (if such a thing exists) of Somali experience couldn't be found in an Italian novel. Yet the history of Italy's colonialization of Somalia is as pure an experience as anything else.
December 6, 2020
Beyond Babylon is a kaleidoscopic novel that tells the interwoven stories of Zuhra and Mar, two Black Italian half-sisters who meet by chance at a Classical Arabic language school in Tunisia, as well as the stories of their mothers and their elusive father. Scego's prose moves from present-day Italy to the years of Argentina's cruel and repressive Dirty War, as well as Siad Barre’s brutal dictatorship in Somalia.
This is not an easy read. There is a brutal description of a gang rape and episodes of child sex abuse. What makes the book really sing for me is the beauty of the writing. In Rome, "the clouds formed rabbits and larks out of the psychedelic air." In Mogadishu, young people "leave through Khartoum and Nairobi, they cross the Sahara and then those in Libya and Tunisia try their luck in broken-down boats that will take them towards the gateway to the sun." In Argentina, "we were a beautiful generation. That was a volatile time politically, but generative. People debated everything, from films to plays. The city was a riot of movie clubs, theaters, off-Broadway shows."
Beyond Babylon is meditative and dreamy, weaving together myriad voices of immigrants and exiles, with moments of happiness and beauty amid the struggles of the novel's protagonists.
This is not an easy read. There is a brutal description of a gang rape and episodes of child sex abuse. What makes the book really sing for me is the beauty of the writing. In Rome, "the clouds formed rabbits and larks out of the psychedelic air." In Mogadishu, young people "leave through Khartoum and Nairobi, they cross the Sahara and then those in Libya and Tunisia try their luck in broken-down boats that will take them towards the gateway to the sun." In Argentina, "we were a beautiful generation. That was a volatile time politically, but generative. People debated everything, from films to plays. The city was a riot of movie clubs, theaters, off-Broadway shows."
Beyond Babylon is meditative and dreamy, weaving together myriad voices of immigrants and exiles, with moments of happiness and beauty amid the struggles of the novel's protagonists.
December 5, 2023
http://sonnenbarke.wordpress.com/2010...
Questo è uno dei libri più belli che io abbia letto ultimamente. Ben scritto e inoltre un libro che ti scava dentro. Una scrittrice che sa veramente il fatto suo.
Di cosa parla Oltre Babilonia? Beh, di tante cose, ma in fondo il tema è il dolore, e come uscirne. Ma affronta ogni sfaccettatura del dolore questo romanzo: la pedofilia, l’esilio, la guerra civile e non, il colonialismo italiano, il suicidio, la dittatura argentina, l’infibulazione, la violenza sessuale, il razzismo, il precariato, l’aborto. E anche, naturalmente, il tema della lingua, se è vero che gran parte del romanzo si svolge in una scuola di arabo a Tunisi. Eppure tutti questi temi non formano affatto un’accozzaglia informe (il rischio c’è ed è forte, quando si mette tanta carne al fuoco), tutt’altro.
Il romanzo ha cinque voci, a ciascuna delle quali è dedicato un capitolo in ognuna delle otto parti. Ognuna di queste voci è collegata alle altre da legami di parentela o di amicizia, e questo fa sì che tante storie diverse si possano intrecciare in maniera naturale. Storie di dolore, ma anche di amore, e di speranza, sempre.
Delle cinque voci quattro sono donne:
la Nus-Nus, che in somalo vuol dire la “mezza mezza”, una ragazza intorno ai trent’anni, romana, ma in realtà figlia di un’argentina e di un somalo, quest’ultimo mai conosciuto. Una mulatta che non sta bene nella sua pelle né bianca né nera, coi suoi capelli ricci da africana, con quella madre così famosa e ingombrante. Bisessuale, ma tendenzialmente lesbica, ha da poco perso la sua compagna, una vera schiavista che l’ha costretta a rapporti sessuali con un uomo per poter avere un figlio, che le ha poi subito fatto abortire, per poi infine suicidarsi;
la Negropolitana, Zuhra, che è anche colei che scrive il prologo e l’epilogo; una commessa precaria in un grande magazzino “culturale” con aspirazioni se non proprio da scrittrice almeno da tramandatrice della memoria (e la memoria è senz’altro un tema centrale nel libro). Anche lei sui trent’anni, qualcuno in più di Mar la Nus-Nus, anche lei romana, trasferitasi in Italia da neonata con la madre, ormai cittadina italiana. Entrambi i genitori somali, ma anche lei come Mar non ha mai conosciuto il padre e sua madre non gliene ha mai parlato, neppure per rivelargliene il nome. Da ragazzina Zuhra è stata violentata da un bidello del collegio nel quale sua madre l’aveva mandata e questo le impedisce tuttora di avere una relazione con un uomo;
la Reaparecida Miranda, madre di Mar, argentina, in Italia da quando la dittatura le ha fatto “desaparecer” il fratello. Sua madre le disse che non meritava di essere chiamata puttana, perché andava a letto con un ufficiale del regime, uno di quelli addetti alle torture. Miranda non si perdonerà mai quei suoi tre anni di passione. Scrive poesie ed è molto famosa in varie parti del mondo, ma non riesce a comunicare con sua figlia e per questo inizia a scriverle, per raccontarle dell’Argentina e soprattutto della Flaca, fidanzata di suo fratello, scampata alle torture ma praticamente impazzita;
la Pessottimista, ovvero la madre di Zuhra, scappata dalla Somalia all’epoca della guerra civile e approdata a Roma. In Somalia era sposata con il padre di Zuhra, ma di lui si sono poi perse le tracce. Un giorno, in seguito a una domanda della figlia, decide di raccontarle la sua storia registrandola su delle cassette. Scopriamo così che Maryam a Roma è diventata un’alcolizzata, ma ciò che soprattutto le piace raccontare a Zuhra è la sua infanzia somala, con la sua grande amica Howa Rosario;
infine l’unico uomo voce protagonista, il padre, Elias, che di fatto è padre sia di Zuhra che di Mar, e che ha abbandonato entrambe le figlie, oltre che entrambe le donne amate. Maryam riesce a fargli sapere che dovrebbe parlare a sua figlia Zuhra, raccontarle di lui. Così anche lui registra la sua voce su delle cassette, ma non parlerà di sé, bensì dei suoi genitori e soprattutto di suo padre, violentato da soldati italiani durante il periodo del colonialismo.
Tutto questo in fondo dice ben poco, perché la cosa più bella è immergersi nel romanzo e farsi trasporare da tutte queste voci, in tutti questi luoghi, e uscire infine a testa alta da tanto dolore, perché è possibile. Consigliatissimo.
Questo è uno dei libri più belli che io abbia letto ultimamente. Ben scritto e inoltre un libro che ti scava dentro. Una scrittrice che sa veramente il fatto suo.
Di cosa parla Oltre Babilonia? Beh, di tante cose, ma in fondo il tema è il dolore, e come uscirne. Ma affronta ogni sfaccettatura del dolore questo romanzo: la pedofilia, l’esilio, la guerra civile e non, il colonialismo italiano, il suicidio, la dittatura argentina, l’infibulazione, la violenza sessuale, il razzismo, il precariato, l’aborto. E anche, naturalmente, il tema della lingua, se è vero che gran parte del romanzo si svolge in una scuola di arabo a Tunisi. Eppure tutti questi temi non formano affatto un’accozzaglia informe (il rischio c’è ed è forte, quando si mette tanta carne al fuoco), tutt’altro.
Il romanzo ha cinque voci, a ciascuna delle quali è dedicato un capitolo in ognuna delle otto parti. Ognuna di queste voci è collegata alle altre da legami di parentela o di amicizia, e questo fa sì che tante storie diverse si possano intrecciare in maniera naturale. Storie di dolore, ma anche di amore, e di speranza, sempre.
Delle cinque voci quattro sono donne:
la Nus-Nus, che in somalo vuol dire la “mezza mezza”, una ragazza intorno ai trent’anni, romana, ma in realtà figlia di un’argentina e di un somalo, quest’ultimo mai conosciuto. Una mulatta che non sta bene nella sua pelle né bianca né nera, coi suoi capelli ricci da africana, con quella madre così famosa e ingombrante. Bisessuale, ma tendenzialmente lesbica, ha da poco perso la sua compagna, una vera schiavista che l’ha costretta a rapporti sessuali con un uomo per poter avere un figlio, che le ha poi subito fatto abortire, per poi infine suicidarsi;
la Negropolitana, Zuhra, che è anche colei che scrive il prologo e l’epilogo; una commessa precaria in un grande magazzino “culturale” con aspirazioni se non proprio da scrittrice almeno da tramandatrice della memoria (e la memoria è senz’altro un tema centrale nel libro). Anche lei sui trent’anni, qualcuno in più di Mar la Nus-Nus, anche lei romana, trasferitasi in Italia da neonata con la madre, ormai cittadina italiana. Entrambi i genitori somali, ma anche lei come Mar non ha mai conosciuto il padre e sua madre non gliene ha mai parlato, neppure per rivelargliene il nome. Da ragazzina Zuhra è stata violentata da un bidello del collegio nel quale sua madre l’aveva mandata e questo le impedisce tuttora di avere una relazione con un uomo;
la Reaparecida Miranda, madre di Mar, argentina, in Italia da quando la dittatura le ha fatto “desaparecer” il fratello. Sua madre le disse che non meritava di essere chiamata puttana, perché andava a letto con un ufficiale del regime, uno di quelli addetti alle torture. Miranda non si perdonerà mai quei suoi tre anni di passione. Scrive poesie ed è molto famosa in varie parti del mondo, ma non riesce a comunicare con sua figlia e per questo inizia a scriverle, per raccontarle dell’Argentina e soprattutto della Flaca, fidanzata di suo fratello, scampata alle torture ma praticamente impazzita;
la Pessottimista, ovvero la madre di Zuhra, scappata dalla Somalia all’epoca della guerra civile e approdata a Roma. In Somalia era sposata con il padre di Zuhra, ma di lui si sono poi perse le tracce. Un giorno, in seguito a una domanda della figlia, decide di raccontarle la sua storia registrandola su delle cassette. Scopriamo così che Maryam a Roma è diventata un’alcolizzata, ma ciò che soprattutto le piace raccontare a Zuhra è la sua infanzia somala, con la sua grande amica Howa Rosario;
infine l’unico uomo voce protagonista, il padre, Elias, che di fatto è padre sia di Zuhra che di Mar, e che ha abbandonato entrambe le figlie, oltre che entrambe le donne amate. Maryam riesce a fargli sapere che dovrebbe parlare a sua figlia Zuhra, raccontarle di lui. Così anche lui registra la sua voce su delle cassette, ma non parlerà di sé, bensì dei suoi genitori e soprattutto di suo padre, violentato da soldati italiani durante il periodo del colonialismo.
Tutto questo in fondo dice ben poco, perché la cosa più bella è immergersi nel romanzo e farsi trasporare da tutte queste voci, in tutti questi luoghi, e uscire infine a testa alta da tanto dolore, perché è possibile. Consigliatissimo.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 20, 2022
A masterpiece. A novel that contains everything I love about fiction and what I'd like to see more of. Without a doubt, this will be the best book I'll read this year. The prose was exquisite and due credit should be given to both the author and the translator for such beautiful writing. If anything, I'd learn Italian in order to read the original, because this was simply spectacular.
October 9, 2021
This novel is about women and trauma. Many traumas. (All the content warnings go here.)
I struggled with this a bit. I am lost on why a classical Arabic language school in Tunis is the main setting. I was frustrated about one fact that never came to light to the female narrators. But the way the story is told--the mothers' traumas and secrets coming to light (one written, one recorded), and the daughters' own traumas narrated by them as they struggle to understand their own behaviors and mental health. Only the reader is left to put this all together, as the daughters have yet to read/listen to their mothers' stories. I wonder if a second read would further bring it all together for me, as in the beginning the reader does not yet know what is coming.
————
Summary
5 narrators, 2 daughters, 2 mothers, and the father. The mothers are immigrants to Italy (one from Argentina, one from Somalia) and experienced extreme traumas in their home countries. The daughters were both raised in Italy, but each has suffered her own secret traumas as well. The father narrates, but his story is more about his father, mother, and aunt/stepmother--and their traumas. Layers of trauma.
The mothers and daughters struggle to understand each other, and each wants her daughter to know why. To know of these traumas that have shaped them and their lives, and how they raised their daughters, thus shaping their daughters' lives. The mothers know nothing of their daughters' traumas, and do not consider how their daughters might be hiding things from them.
I struggled with this a bit. I am lost on why a classical Arabic language school in Tunis is the main setting. I was frustrated about one fact that never came to light to the female narrators. But the way the story is told--the mothers' traumas and secrets coming to light (one written, one recorded), and the daughters' own traumas narrated by them as they struggle to understand their own behaviors and mental health. Only the reader is left to put this all together, as the daughters have yet to read/listen to their mothers' stories. I wonder if a second read would further bring it all together for me, as in the beginning the reader does not yet know what is coming.
————
Summary
5 narrators, 2 daughters, 2 mothers, and the father. The mothers are immigrants to Italy (one from Argentina, one from Somalia) and experienced extreme traumas in their home countries. The daughters were both raised in Italy, but each has suffered her own secret traumas as well. The father narrates, but his story is more about his father, mother, and aunt/stepmother--and their traumas. Layers of trauma.
The mothers and daughters struggle to understand each other, and each wants her daughter to know why. To know of these traumas that have shaped them and their lives, and how they raised their daughters, thus shaping their daughters' lives. The mothers know nothing of their daughters' traumas, and do not consider how their daughters might be hiding things from them.
June 3, 2023
This was Somali-Italian author, Igiaba Scego's first book. I have read her books in reverse order and I found this the hardest to understand. She brings out the stories of four women and one man (an Argentinian woman who is the mother of another character, two Somali women, and a Somali man). The stories are told in eight sections but I often hard to decipher who was who and many of the characters did not understand their own background stories. So while the characters are interesting and the lives these five had lived in Argentina, Somalia, Italy, and now, Tunisia, was also interesting, it was also very confusing. Slowly, some of the characters became decipherable, but I found myself in a fog for most of this long book. Her newer books are much better.
June 23, 2022
6 💫
I fume at not being able to give this book more than a five. To call it masterpiece is gross misconduct. This book kept me not being able to breathe with the way it made space for themes, wits, and life where one would think it was rejected. It may have been too human actually.
Throughout reading it, I just kept having revelations. I get dry mouth whenever I remember “Beyond Babylon”. How can it exist? How can I be blessed to read it in this lifetime? To bear witness to it?
Inshallah, sometime in the future , I hope I get the privilege to speak with Scego. Sincerely thanking her in person is a wish of mine.
This book is the bane of my existence. I cherish it doing so.
I fume at not being able to give this book more than a five. To call it masterpiece is gross misconduct. This book kept me not being able to breathe with the way it made space for themes, wits, and life where one would think it was rejected. It may have been too human actually.
Throughout reading it, I just kept having revelations. I get dry mouth whenever I remember “Beyond Babylon”. How can it exist? How can I be blessed to read it in this lifetime? To bear witness to it?
Inshallah, sometime in the future , I hope I get the privilege to speak with Scego. Sincerely thanking her in person is a wish of mine.
This book is the bane of my existence. I cherish it doing so.
August 6, 2020
This took me a long time to get through. The book and the narrative itself were dense. But the writing was superb. It is probably due to a good translation, and when reading in translation I always wonder if I am reading the true story. I think Italo Calvino's If On A Winter's Night A Traveller made me wary of all translations. But this was a good one and the words were so enrapturing that I enjoyed my experience. I'll have to read this book again however, the narratives so expertly interwoven that I'll have to return to the story with knowing it already to truly read it.
January 24, 2022
At once jumbled and concise, as well as political and personal. This book spans three continents, none of which is where I live. I like to occasionally check out international fiction, for the different cadence of thought. This one kept me on my toes keeping track of the connections. The reader gets to know the secrets of the main characters much deeper than characters around them know about each other. The ending was a little thin in comparison. The connections of Italy to Somalia and Argentina, are well portrayed.
July 17, 2022
Un libro che mi ha segnato e toccato nel profondo. Ho trovato davvero potenti le storie delle protagoniste e scritte magistralmente. Ci si ritrova in ognuno dei quattro personaggi principali e nelle vicissitudini che le hanno formate. Credo che dovrebbe essere letto anche in quanto inno alla ricchezza delle sfumature insite in ciascuno di noi.
January 14, 2022
3.5/5 stars. I really like Igiaba Scego as a writer, this book included, but I did think that the idea of 'family history retelling' did not completely work for me. I've seen it work really well in Girl, Woman, Other, and also in Homegoing, but in Oltre Babilonia, I felt something was missing.
March 23, 2024
Elegant prose, and a fascinating political exploration on the spread and lingering effects of Italian fascism. I sympathized with all the characters, and appreciated the starkness with which Scego shamelessly portrays the realities of womanhood, and the unflinching examination of female genital mutilation as a means of oppression. I did have a hard time distinguishing one character’s voice from the next, and if not for tracking which title name went with which character, I would struggle to identify from whose point of view each chapter was told. I found the end to be a bit anticlimactic as well, as there were plenty of character dynamics I wish would’ve been given more attention. But, still a phenomenal work of fiction.
July 21, 2019
thoughts coming shortly
Read
September 3, 2019A slow read that jumps through multiple perspectives an time periods.
Read
September 6, 2019Fiction S287b 2019
April 12, 2022
Prolisso a dei livelli disumani. La storia in sé è carina ma resa insostenibile da liste infinite di aggettivi, avverbi, ripetizioni.
February 28, 2024
4.5 stars. Such a beautiful book.
December 6, 2024
这本书的主题以及写作的方式都让它变得不那么容易读，但却出乎意料的“好”读，爱不释手！我喜欢作者赋予她笔下人物声音的方式。
August 13, 2025
deeply not for me
July 23, 2020
I cannot speak highly enough of Scego's work. The voices that emerge from the page, their pain, their hopes are so uncomfortable and they need to be heard. Beyond the stereotypes of the desperate immigrant, across generations and identities.
December 3, 2019
This was one of the most confusing and engrossing books I have ever read. As soon as I read the last sentence, I was ordering the book for myself so I could read it again. (I originally checked it out from the library).
The book is written through five different narrative voices; the chapters aren’t titled by the characters’ names, but rather traits of that specific character. For that reason, I found it challenging to track which character I was following in the chapter, and I kept getting their stories entangled in my mind. (I’m still trying to decide if that was intentional on the author’s part, to be honest).
There are four women characters - two mother-daughter pairs - and a male character. Three of the characters are immigrants living in Italy, coming from Argentina or Somalia, and the political and social connections drawn between those three countries is fascinating and illuminating; I am woefully under-educated when it comes to the history of both Italy and Somalia. The range of issues Scego tackles is amazing, and a few of her chapters are written in stream of consciousness style that captivated me.
As I completed this read, I felt like I was coming up for air. It was a brief breath before I dive back in to my second read of this beautifully woven book.
This one is definitely worth checking out - and when you do - let me know what you think about it. I’m so curious to see if other readers experience the same confusion and joy with this novel as I did!
The book is written through five different narrative voices; the chapters aren’t titled by the characters’ names, but rather traits of that specific character. For that reason, I found it challenging to track which character I was following in the chapter, and I kept getting their stories entangled in my mind. (I’m still trying to decide if that was intentional on the author’s part, to be honest).
There are four women characters - two mother-daughter pairs - and a male character. Three of the characters are immigrants living in Italy, coming from Argentina or Somalia, and the political and social connections drawn between those three countries is fascinating and illuminating; I am woefully under-educated when it comes to the history of both Italy and Somalia. The range of issues Scego tackles is amazing, and a few of her chapters are written in stream of consciousness style that captivated me.
As I completed this read, I felt like I was coming up for air. It was a brief breath before I dive back in to my second read of this beautifully woven book.
This one is definitely worth checking out - and when you do - let me know what you think about it. I’m so curious to see if other readers experience the same confusion and joy with this novel as I did!
January 30, 2020
Could have been something great, transcendent even. The oppression of imperialism, impact of authoritarian politics & warfare, and deep-rooted racism deeply woven in generational trauma. This book had so much potential.
Sadly the author’s far-reaching agenda overtook narrative and plot, character voices indistinguishable from the next. Stream of consciousness the only device.
Sadly the author’s far-reaching agenda overtook narrative and plot, character voices indistinguishable from the next. Stream of consciousness the only device.
March 27, 2023
In this fiercely exuberant novel, Scego, an Italian of Somali descent, throws the doors and windows of Italian fiction wide open to admit silenced voices from Italy’s horrific colonial past in East Africa and voices from even further abroad that speak of similar horrors from Argentina’s Dirty War. The stories of trauma and loss they tell cross boundaries of continents and language to enrich and trouble Italy’s multiracial present, personified most vividly in the novel by the irrepressibly candid Zuhra, a daughter of the African diaspora in Italy who speaks Romanesco but yearns to learn Arabic and whose own psychic and physical maladies can be traced directly to the violent silences and omissions of her immigrant family’s tormented history and to her own experience of childhood sexual abuse. The novel’s recuperation of long-suppressed family stories is a work not simply of therapeutic healing but of regeneration—the attempt to build a living present out of the scattered fragments of the past and fashion a self in which memory and bodily health, pleasure and sexuality, are fully integrated.
December 2, 2011
Cinque voci ci accompagnano tra il passato della Somalia e un presente italiano. Sono unite dalla Somalia, da storie di sofferenza lontane tanto quanto l'Argentina negli anni del golpe militare o vicine come Roma negli anni zero.
Sono tutte storie intense, sanguigne, dolorose - certe pagine mi hanno fatto male fisicamente.
Lo stile varia a seconda dei personaggi, quasi tutte donne: alcune hanno una narrazione elegante, epica, come la voce di un documentario, altre sono trentenni che parlano a scatti, sgradevolmente, come delle adolescenti: sono stato sul punto di mollare il libro a causa loro, man mano che la storia si è sviluppata sono cresciute, si sono capite, per così dire.
Una delle trame si svolge negli anni della dominazione coloniale italiana. Non l'avevo mai letta dal punto di vista dell'Africa e non ne usciamo bene. Violenza, repressione, corruzione, senso di ineluttabilità contrastano con la forza vitale delle persone descritte.
E' un libro intenso, fisico, con molta energia sotto la superficie, che esplode ogni tanto in scene violentemente espressive.
Sono tutte storie intense, sanguigne, dolorose - certe pagine mi hanno fatto male fisicamente.
Lo stile varia a seconda dei personaggi, quasi tutte donne: alcune hanno una narrazione elegante, epica, come la voce di un documentario, altre sono trentenni che parlano a scatti, sgradevolmente, come delle adolescenti: sono stato sul punto di mollare il libro a causa loro, man mano che la storia si è sviluppata sono cresciute, si sono capite, per così dire.
Una delle trame si svolge negli anni della dominazione coloniale italiana. Non l'avevo mai letta dal punto di vista dell'Africa e non ne usciamo bene. Violenza, repressione, corruzione, senso di ineluttabilità contrastano con la forza vitale delle persone descritte.
E' un libro intenso, fisico, con molta energia sotto la superficie, che esplode ogni tanto in scene violentemente espressive.
February 24, 2020
I’m not gonna pretend that I’m cultured enough or intellectual enough to have understood everything that went on in this book. A bit too stream of consciousness and not enough plot for me. I maybe learned some stuff though
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