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Thirteen Months of Sunrise
Thirteen Months of Sunrise is a collection of stories by the author, journalist, and activist, Rania Mamoun. Rania was featured in previous PEN Award winning project, The Book of Khartoum, the first ever anthology of Sudanese short fiction in translation. The stories in this collection have been translated from Arabic into English for the first time, by translator Elisabeth Jacquette. Thirteen Months of Sunrise is part of Comma's commitment to publish writers in translation from 'banned nations' in 2018.
73 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2009
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About the author
Rania Mamoun
8 books22 followersRania Ali Musa Mamoun (born 1979) is a Sudanese journalist, novelist and writer. She was born in the city of Wad Medani in east-central Sudan, and was educated at the University of Gezira. As a journalist, she is involved in both print media and television. She edits the culture page of the journal al-Thaqafi, writes a column for the newspaper al-Adwaa, and presents a cultural programme on Gezira State TV.
As an author, Mamoun has published a book of short stories ("The Thirteen Months of Sunrise") 2009, and a novel ("Green Flash") 2006. One of her stories ("The Thirteen Months of Sunrise") has appeared in English translation in Banipal magazine, and she has many stories & articles has been translated to English & French. Mamoun was the recipient of an AFAC (Arab Fund for Arts and Culture) grant in 2009, and the following year, she was selected to participate in the second IPAF Nadwa, an annual workshop for young Arabic-language writers.
From Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rania_M...
As an author, Mamoun has published a book of short stories ("The Thirteen Months of Sunrise") 2009, and a novel ("Green Flash") 2006. One of her stories ("The Thirteen Months of Sunrise") has appeared in English translation in Banipal magazine, and she has many stories & articles has been translated to English & French. Mamoun was the recipient of an AFAC (Arab Fund for Arts and Culture) grant in 2009, and the following year, she was selected to participate in the second IPAF Nadwa, an annual workshop for young Arabic-language writers.
From Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rania_M...
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 94 reviews
August 10, 2025
જ⁀➴ 3.5 stars!! ✰
⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ think of me every time u listen to those tapes ꒱˖⊹
thirteen months of sunrise is a collection of 10 short stories based in sudan (which is the main reason i wanted to read this). it was quite an interesting read that explores a wide variety of different themes including loss, grief, poverty, friendship and mental illness.
the reason i rated it 3.5 stars is because i feel like the stories were too short, each only about a few pages long, which made it harder for me to enjoy. despite that, i still feel like they are very impactful and some of them even made me cry (rare event).
the writing was also really beautiful and poetic. the descriptions were so detailed and i genuinely felt like i was there with the characters. there’s just something so raw snd nostalgic about them that made me miss my homeland like pls TAKE ME BACKKK 💔💔. i only wish i found the original arabic version to read bc i feel like sometimes translations don’t do books justice yk??
anyway this was a fascinating read and definitely outside of my usual genres!! here are some quotes i liked:
⟢ It’s not the place that’s important, but the person you share it with. They can make it heaven or hell.
⟢ My only companion, now, was loneliness.
⟢ When you’re homesick, you yearn for anything familiar: people, language, signs, anything
⟢ I remember how happy you were when we moved to the house next to the mosque, where the call to prayer was so loud it beat in our hearts and shook our bodies, and you said, ‘Nothing makes me happier than being near the mosque, could we wish for a better neighbour?’
⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ think of me every time u listen to those tapes ꒱˖⊹
thirteen months of sunrise is a collection of 10 short stories based in sudan (which is the main reason i wanted to read this). it was quite an interesting read that explores a wide variety of different themes including loss, grief, poverty, friendship and mental illness.
the reason i rated it 3.5 stars is because i feel like the stories were too short, each only about a few pages long, which made it harder for me to enjoy. despite that, i still feel like they are very impactful and some of them even made me cry (rare event).
the writing was also really beautiful and poetic. the descriptions were so detailed and i genuinely felt like i was there with the characters. there’s just something so raw snd nostalgic about them that made me miss my homeland like pls TAKE ME BACKKK 💔💔. i only wish i found the original arabic version to read bc i feel like sometimes translations don’t do books justice yk??
anyway this was a fascinating read and definitely outside of my usual genres!! here are some quotes i liked:
⟢ It’s not the place that’s important, but the person you share it with. They can make it heaven or hell.
⟢ My only companion, now, was loneliness.
⟢ When you’re homesick, you yearn for anything familiar: people, language, signs, anything
⟢ I remember how happy you were when we moved to the house next to the mosque, where the call to prayer was so loud it beat in our hearts and shook our bodies, and you said, ‘Nothing makes me happier than being near the mosque, could we wish for a better neighbour?’
June 1, 2019
Rania Mamoun’s Thirteen Months of Sunrise, translated from the Arabic by Elisabeth Jaquette, is a tiny but rather marvelous short story collection that demonstrates the strength of Sudanese literature and leaves me wanting for some more. It’s not like the English-speaking world has had too many books coming from Sudan, right? In fact, this is said to be the first English translation of a full collection by a Sudanese female author.
The first half of the collection navigates the private sphere of strong emotions – there’s longing, despair, and betrayal – yet Mamoun’s beautiful, figurative language has a humane, life-affirming effect. She writes extremely succinctly – “A Week of Love”, at mere two pages, is a prime example – and this economy of language, combined with rich imagery, brings about a very poetic quality to the text. Mamoun can also be very sensual and tactile, like in “Passing”, where the narrator’s longing for her father is depicted as an overwhelming sensation filling all space and her body:
Toward the end of the collection the focus shifts slowly from the inner to the outer. In “A Woman Asleep on Her Bundle”, the private female interior is contrasted against the public sphere of the city, as citizens speculate about an allegedly mad woman carrying a bundle with her, stroking it tenderly. Similarly, “Cities and Other Cities” is set in the confines of a bus where the narrator, surrounded by strangers, is worried about killing a fly and smearing public property. In the semi-surreal final story, “Stray Steps”, the private and the public collide: “In that moment I couldn’t tell the difference between reality and fantasy”.
While the collection stands on its own as a very enjoyable piece of fiction, it also broadened my geographical horizon: Sudan, Ethiopia, and Eritrea all feature in the titular story, sending me off into the wonders of Wikipedia for a good while in order to learn at least some basics of the eastern coast of Africa, an area of which I know embarrassingly little about. As Nigerian and Kenian authors are increasingly popular in the Western world thanks to the advantage of a common tongue, the literatures of Arabic-speaking nations are only slowly surfacing in the Western literary radar, although still in the periphery. Recommended, and it’s very much readable in one sitting.
The first half of the collection navigates the private sphere of strong emotions – there’s longing, despair, and betrayal – yet Mamoun’s beautiful, figurative language has a humane, life-affirming effect. She writes extremely succinctly – “A Week of Love”, at mere two pages, is a prime example – and this economy of language, combined with rich imagery, brings about a very poetic quality to the text. Mamoun can also be very sensual and tactile, like in “Passing”, where the narrator’s longing for her father is depicted as an overwhelming sensation filling all space and her body:
Your scent opens channels of memory, it invades me without warning, like armies of ants stinging me fiercely, chaotically: on my eyes, my skin, in my pores, my blood, even my ears, as they pick up the vibrations of your voice drawing closer. I’m flooded with memories: I feel the warmth of your embrace; the warmth of the bed where as a child I slept beside you instead of Mother; you coming home from your errands, me sticking to you like glue. Mother tried to separate me from you, but I didn’t listen. ‘He’s going on a trip tomorrow,’ she’d tell me, and I’d say: ‘But he’ll come back.’
Toward the end of the collection the focus shifts slowly from the inner to the outer. In “A Woman Asleep on Her Bundle”, the private female interior is contrasted against the public sphere of the city, as citizens speculate about an allegedly mad woman carrying a bundle with her, stroking it tenderly. Similarly, “Cities and Other Cities” is set in the confines of a bus where the narrator, surrounded by strangers, is worried about killing a fly and smearing public property. In the semi-surreal final story, “Stray Steps”, the private and the public collide: “In that moment I couldn’t tell the difference between reality and fantasy”.
While the collection stands on its own as a very enjoyable piece of fiction, it also broadened my geographical horizon: Sudan, Ethiopia, and Eritrea all feature in the titular story, sending me off into the wonders of Wikipedia for a good while in order to learn at least some basics of the eastern coast of Africa, an area of which I know embarrassingly little about. As Nigerian and Kenian authors are increasingly popular in the Western world thanks to the advantage of a common tongue, the literatures of Arabic-speaking nations are only slowly surfacing in the Western literary radar, although still in the periphery. Recommended, and it’s very much readable in one sitting.
January 25, 2021
Thirteen Months of Sunrise is a collection of 10 short stories by Sudanese author Rania Mamoun, translated from Arabic by Elisabeth Jaquette.
Boy was this a delight to read. It felt like an intimate walk through the streets of Sudan, taking in the surroundings, stories and the people behind them.
Mamoun's ability to capture the intricacies of human emotion in the most subtle of ways is phenomenal. There are no elaborate twists or profound lessons, just slice of life stories centring grief, penury, love and unlikely friendships that tug at your heartstrings.
The following quote is from 'Passing' — a story of a girl mourning the loss of her father that hit me particularly hard.
"Your scent opens channels of memory, it invades me without warning, like armies of ants stinging me fiercely, chaotically: on my eyes, my skin, in my pores, my blood, even my ears, as they pick up the vibrations of your voice drawing closer. I'm flooded with memories: I feel the warmth of your embrace; the warmth of the bed where as a child I slept beside you instead of Mother; you coming home from your errands, me sticking to you like glue. Mother tried to separate me from you but I didn't listen. 'He's going on a trip tomorrow,' she'd tell me, and I'd say: 'But he'll come back.' Now that I'm grown, that you have left, that I have surrendered to a loss so hard to abide, I can't give the same answer, or even be so sure."
This is the perfect book to devour in one sitting. Beautiful, melancholy and moving.
Boy was this a delight to read. It felt like an intimate walk through the streets of Sudan, taking in the surroundings, stories and the people behind them.
Mamoun's ability to capture the intricacies of human emotion in the most subtle of ways is phenomenal. There are no elaborate twists or profound lessons, just slice of life stories centring grief, penury, love and unlikely friendships that tug at your heartstrings.
The following quote is from 'Passing' — a story of a girl mourning the loss of her father that hit me particularly hard.
"Your scent opens channels of memory, it invades me without warning, like armies of ants stinging me fiercely, chaotically: on my eyes, my skin, in my pores, my blood, even my ears, as they pick up the vibrations of your voice drawing closer. I'm flooded with memories: I feel the warmth of your embrace; the warmth of the bed where as a child I slept beside you instead of Mother; you coming home from your errands, me sticking to you like glue. Mother tried to separate me from you but I didn't listen. 'He's going on a trip tomorrow,' she'd tell me, and I'd say: 'But he'll come back.' Now that I'm grown, that you have left, that I have surrendered to a loss so hard to abide, I can't give the same answer, or even be so sure."
This is the perfect book to devour in one sitting. Beautiful, melancholy and moving.
October 1, 2020
Sudanese writer Rania Mamoun's collection 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘔𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘚𝘶𝘯𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 explores through 10 short stories the connections between people, societies and the walls between them. The collection centers mostly Sudanese women navigating love and grief, alienation and mental health, corruption and religion, who find themselves pushed to the edges of society while trying to remain faithful to a place and it’s history.
Mamoun doesn't shy away from playing with form - using diary entries in '𝘈 𝘞𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦' and cleverly deploys a video-documentary-screenplay type of narration in '𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘰𝘶𝘭’ to show that what the world knows about Sudan is mostly edited by the media: 𝘛𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯.’
There is a great deal of crossing over between physical and mental states in this collection, with the real and imagined coexisting to give a surreal reading experience. Mamoun also blurrs the line between humans and animals, most notably, in '𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘴' where a beggar is saved from starvation by a pack of stray dogs who show her more compassion than the people around her. In another story '𝘊𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘊𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴', a woman travelling by bus with a deep sense of urban isolation and anxiety finds solace by observing the behaviour of a fly.
However, one of the seemingly impregnable boundaries is between wealth and poverty. There are stories of stifling responsibilities, hunger, joblessness and homelessness but the way Mamoun writes poverty is not as a reductive clichéd representation of Sudan, but rather, she gives a personal face to universal social problems. Despite the grim topics, this collection full of life, color and humor - rich in imagery and intense in emotion - weaving in rhythms and flavors of Sudanese and Amharic culture.
Mamoun doesn't shy away from playing with form - using diary entries in '𝘈 𝘞𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦' and cleverly deploys a video-documentary-screenplay type of narration in '𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘰𝘶𝘭’ to show that what the world knows about Sudan is mostly edited by the media: 𝘛𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯.’
There is a great deal of crossing over between physical and mental states in this collection, with the real and imagined coexisting to give a surreal reading experience. Mamoun also blurrs the line between humans and animals, most notably, in '𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘴' where a beggar is saved from starvation by a pack of stray dogs who show her more compassion than the people around her. In another story '𝘊𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘊𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴', a woman travelling by bus with a deep sense of urban isolation and anxiety finds solace by observing the behaviour of a fly.
However, one of the seemingly impregnable boundaries is between wealth and poverty. There are stories of stifling responsibilities, hunger, joblessness and homelessness but the way Mamoun writes poverty is not as a reductive clichéd representation of Sudan, but rather, she gives a personal face to universal social problems. Despite the grim topics, this collection full of life, color and humor - rich in imagery and intense in emotion - weaving in rhythms and flavors of Sudanese and Amharic culture.
November 7, 2025
Each story feels small, but together they form this quiet ache, an emotional map of people who are all reaching for something that’s already slipping away.
February 8, 2021
Warm yet melancholy, these stories paint a vivid and moving picture of contemporary Sudanese society and the people relegated to its margins, the poor, the homeless and the sick. And though a short collection, it’s dreamy, imaginative and full of depth. I loved the fantastical element to it; A writer’s best friend and most trusted critic turn out to be imaginary, a diabetic girl is rescued and protected by a pack of stray dogs, and a woman on a bus befriends a fly.
These provocative last lines are from a story about a character enthralled by a homeless woman rumoured to throw stones at strangers for saying hello;
“I felt bad for her; I felt helpless. I longed for her, and thought about helping her or inviting her to come home with me, but I always feared how she might respond. I feared her stones that lay buried in my memory, because just like all villains, I too had fears.”
Ethereal, tender, complex yet very human. I recommend it.
These provocative last lines are from a story about a character enthralled by a homeless woman rumoured to throw stones at strangers for saying hello;
“I felt bad for her; I felt helpless. I longed for her, and thought about helping her or inviting her to come home with me, but I always feared how she might respond. I feared her stones that lay buried in my memory, because just like all villains, I too had fears.”
Ethereal, tender, complex yet very human. I recommend it.
October 30, 2025
For my trip to Sudan, I chose this short story collection by journalist Rania Mamoun. It opens a window into contemporary Sudanese life, and I felt it has autobiographical tones, but I haven't found many references about this. However, its intimate tone hints at this. These texts are very short, more like encounters than plots.
The title story, "Thirteen Months of Sunrise", is one of the most memorable. It follows an encounter between the Sudanese narrator and an Ethiopian man, and their relationship is used as an opportunity to explore the cultural and linguistic differences between the two neighboring countries, layered with tribal lineages and migration stories.
Some pieces in this collection feel more like fragments or sketches of private moments. "Passing" is a daughter's remembrance of her father, and her nostalgia and remorse that she never became the person he wanted her to be. "Edges", on the other hand, is a very abstract story about a writer and the voice that interrupts and sabotages her. It has a metaphorical layering that makes it difficult to emotionally connect to the story.
Other stories turn outward, toward systemic hardship. "In the Muck of the Soul" follows a mother who seeks charity for her son's kidney transplant, but it's not melodramatic, instead it's a critique of bureaucracy, with its endless forms and gatekeeping. "Doors" presents a similar confrontation with the precarity of working-class life, it's a story of devastating brutality.
There are also portraits of marginalized women: the woman sleeping with her bundle by the mosque; the young girl in "Stray Steps" sinking into diabetic collapse, the mother of five who fights poverty. These stories are visceral, and sometimes the realism slips into surrealism to show how the mind tries to survive it.
What holds the collection together is Mamoun's empathetic, but unsentimental gaze, which is unashamed to look directly at poverty, displacement, mental illness, the erosions of dignity under economic pressure. The writing is lyrical, but the lyricism doesn't soften reality.
However, the stories are very short, and, despite the themes, they felt like mere glimpses into the Sudanese society. I wanted more shape, more narrative complexion, as some texts feel like drafts. I guess the collection is worth reading if you like short stories about the little life, but it didn't transport me very much into that part of the world (or at least not as much as I would have wanted).
The title story, "Thirteen Months of Sunrise", is one of the most memorable. It follows an encounter between the Sudanese narrator and an Ethiopian man, and their relationship is used as an opportunity to explore the cultural and linguistic differences between the two neighboring countries, layered with tribal lineages and migration stories.
Some pieces in this collection feel more like fragments or sketches of private moments. "Passing" is a daughter's remembrance of her father, and her nostalgia and remorse that she never became the person he wanted her to be. "Edges", on the other hand, is a very abstract story about a writer and the voice that interrupts and sabotages her. It has a metaphorical layering that makes it difficult to emotionally connect to the story.
Other stories turn outward, toward systemic hardship. "In the Muck of the Soul" follows a mother who seeks charity for her son's kidney transplant, but it's not melodramatic, instead it's a critique of bureaucracy, with its endless forms and gatekeeping. "Doors" presents a similar confrontation with the precarity of working-class life, it's a story of devastating brutality.
There are also portraits of marginalized women: the woman sleeping with her bundle by the mosque; the young girl in "Stray Steps" sinking into diabetic collapse, the mother of five who fights poverty. These stories are visceral, and sometimes the realism slips into surrealism to show how the mind tries to survive it.
What holds the collection together is Mamoun's empathetic, but unsentimental gaze, which is unashamed to look directly at poverty, displacement, mental illness, the erosions of dignity under economic pressure. The writing is lyrical, but the lyricism doesn't soften reality.
However, the stories are very short, and, despite the themes, they felt like mere glimpses into the Sudanese society. I wanted more shape, more narrative complexion, as some texts feel like drafts. I guess the collection is worth reading if you like short stories about the little life, but it didn't transport me very much into that part of the world (or at least not as much as I would have wanted).
Read
February 8, 2025"edges" and "one-room sorrows" were fantastic, and the other stories were there too i guess
January 10, 2021
What a book! Oh mayn this book is haunting me 😲 It's a collection of stories touching on grief ,love, mental health and religion and written so well that you are engaged.
August 11, 2021
Definitely a mixed bag - the strongest stories are "A Woman Asleep on Her Bundle" and "Stray Steps". While the stories are generally intimate, most of them tend to be forgettable. There are some clichéd phrases and dialogues - although that's probably due to the translation.
April 18, 2019
Full review to come.
Beautiful, poetic, and melancholic words that stay with you long after you've set the book down.
Beautiful, poetic, and melancholic words that stay with you long after you've set the book down.
February 8, 2022
3.5 stars
It's always a delight to read a book from a country you are unfamiliar with and so the elements of Sudanese culture that are sprinkled throughout these stories, particularly the first one, add interest to the reading experience. There is also a definite sense of melancholy or sadness from loneliness, and grief to desperate poverty, which features in several of those towards the end of the collection.
Some of the stories such as Edges and A Woman Asleep on Her Bundle deal with mental illness, others have moments of stepping outside of reality and taking on the perspectives of animals or insects. Many of the stories manage to catch at the heart with memories of a father who has passed, a love that is unfulfilled or the heartbreak of a parent trying to find money to feed their children.
My favorites were the titular story, Passing, A Women Asleep on Her Bundle and Edges, the last of which has the most beautiful writing -elsewhere the prose is fairly simple. There weren't any stories that I disliked but at the same time, I got to the end of the collection feeling like I wanted, or perhaps expected more, but I've read some stellar short story collections in the past year or so, so my standards are high. Overall, a solid if not stunning collection of stories and I'd definitely be keen to read more from Rania Mamoun.
It's always a delight to read a book from a country you are unfamiliar with and so the elements of Sudanese culture that are sprinkled throughout these stories, particularly the first one, add interest to the reading experience. There is also a definite sense of melancholy or sadness from loneliness, and grief to desperate poverty, which features in several of those towards the end of the collection.
Some of the stories such as Edges and A Woman Asleep on Her Bundle deal with mental illness, others have moments of stepping outside of reality and taking on the perspectives of animals or insects. Many of the stories manage to catch at the heart with memories of a father who has passed, a love that is unfulfilled or the heartbreak of a parent trying to find money to feed their children.
My favorites were the titular story, Passing, A Women Asleep on Her Bundle and Edges, the last of which has the most beautiful writing -elsewhere the prose is fairly simple. There weren't any stories that I disliked but at the same time, I got to the end of the collection feeling like I wanted, or perhaps expected more, but I've read some stellar short story collections in the past year or so, so my standards are high. Overall, a solid if not stunning collection of stories and I'd definitely be keen to read more from Rania Mamoun.
November 21, 2020
Thirteen Months of Sunrise is a strong collection of short stories by Sudanese Journalist
Rania Mamoun, written in Arabic translated to English by Elisabeth Jaquette. The collection starts with titular story with Rania meeting a man of Ethiopian descent. When she ends the story with a subdued note with the man's name still lingering, I wonder if she is talking about the leader of the think tank from Addis Ababa University. Nevertheless, the story is a beautiful exposition of how multiple cultures coexist and absorbing it as it comes by.
The emotional depth in Passing isn't dissimilar to longing a daughter feels for her father. The momentary reprise isn't momentary and the jarring ending is beginning of a life long of longing for her father. The short love stories scattered in Edges and A week of love> are windows to softer times. The writing detours to a stylish verse, a little melancholic in its execution and a lot constrained. In this economy of words, Mamoun delivers a flavorful of dialogues.
Rania explores the nature of her society in A woman asleep on her bundle, Cities and Other cities while introspecting the inhabitants of the said society in Doors and In the muck of the soul. The collection moves towards exploration of community, the people its composed of and the complexity of changing times.
Near the end, the time have changed and there is heaviness in the air - an anticipatory denseness of darkness, reflecting in One room sorrows and Stray steps. It is perhaps me as a reader reading too deep into it or projecting. Rania Mamoun expertly portrays harshness and helplessness in abstract expression.
This is a great sampling into the author's repertoire and I sincerely hope more of her works get due recognition.
Rania Mamoun, written in Arabic translated to English by Elisabeth Jaquette. The collection starts with titular story with Rania meeting a man of Ethiopian descent. When she ends the story with a subdued note with the man's name still lingering, I wonder if she is talking about the leader of the think tank from Addis Ababa University. Nevertheless, the story is a beautiful exposition of how multiple cultures coexist and absorbing it as it comes by.
The emotional depth in Passing isn't dissimilar to longing a daughter feels for her father. The momentary reprise isn't momentary and the jarring ending is beginning of a life long of longing for her father. The short love stories scattered in Edges and A week of love> are windows to softer times. The writing detours to a stylish verse, a little melancholic in its execution and a lot constrained. In this economy of words, Mamoun delivers a flavorful of dialogues.
Rania explores the nature of her society in A woman asleep on her bundle, Cities and Other cities while introspecting the inhabitants of the said society in Doors and In the muck of the soul. The collection moves towards exploration of community, the people its composed of and the complexity of changing times.
Near the end, the time have changed and there is heaviness in the air - an anticipatory denseness of darkness, reflecting in One room sorrows and Stray steps. It is perhaps me as a reader reading too deep into it or projecting. Rania Mamoun expertly portrays harshness and helplessness in abstract expression.
This is a great sampling into the author's repertoire and I sincerely hope more of her works get due recognition.
November 14, 2020
If I'm going to be honest, while I liked Rania Mamoun's Thirteen Months of Sunrise (translated from Arabic by Elisabeth Jaquette) a nice amount, that's about where it ends - it's a good, VERY tiny short story collection that stumbles most in rising to the level of being truly great or amazing. There is absolutely nothing bad or negative in this collection, and I can't point to any individual story that expressly disappointed me, but the book's overall brevity meant that it was a little hard for me to have any stronger feelings about it on the whole. I enjoyed the collection! It's very short, a very quick read, and its stories are good. But it also didn't leave much of an impression on me. I started reading it, I finished reading it. I wanted more. Hence: Slight disappointment.
Mamoun's writing is straight-forward and very clear, which also helps carry this collection along in such a brief way. There are lovely descriptive moments, but for the most part things are simply... as they are. Some of the stories are melancholic, others are emotionally raw, and others still feel a little quieter in conveying a shifting world. It all flows very neatly. The stories themselves feel exactly the right length and style, even as the collection feels like it's missing a piece. Or maybe I am, who knows.
Suffice to say: I enjoyed Thirteen Months of Sunrise. It's a good collection and it's a really easy recommendation for almost every reader, both in its straight-forwardness and its length; I can see this working brilliantly for slower readers looking for something to immerse themselves in without the downside of bloated storytelling. But I still couldn't shake the feeling by the end that the book had passed me by very quickly. Was that all? Isn't there more? I suppose I can only hope that more of Mamoun's works make their way into English...
Mamoun's writing is straight-forward and very clear, which also helps carry this collection along in such a brief way. There are lovely descriptive moments, but for the most part things are simply... as they are. Some of the stories are melancholic, others are emotionally raw, and others still feel a little quieter in conveying a shifting world. It all flows very neatly. The stories themselves feel exactly the right length and style, even as the collection feels like it's missing a piece. Or maybe I am, who knows.
Suffice to say: I enjoyed Thirteen Months of Sunrise. It's a good collection and it's a really easy recommendation for almost every reader, both in its straight-forwardness and its length; I can see this working brilliantly for slower readers looking for something to immerse themselves in without the downside of bloated storytelling. But I still couldn't shake the feeling by the end that the book had passed me by very quickly. Was that all? Isn't there more? I suppose I can only hope that more of Mamoun's works make their way into English...
February 21, 2025
Overall, an interesting collection of very short stories covering a very wide range of emotions and situations.
THIRTEEN MONTHS OF SUNRISE
A sweet short story about Kadine Kiros, a scientist from Ethiopia in Sudan studying the Gezira Scheme-the largest irrigation project on the African continent and a Sudanese woman who become friends.
Sweet.
PASSING
A daughter's father dies. Although he wished for her, his youngest, the 'last grape in the bunch' to be a doctor. She was unable to fulfill his wish.
Poignant.
EDGES
What is real? Who is real? This confidant? This person always by her side that only she can see, hear, experience? An 'imaginary friend'?
A WEEK OF LOVE
Within 7 days a man enters her life, declares his love for her, and then disappears, ghosting her...
Sad...
IN THE MUCK OF THE SOUL
Sad story of those seeking help to pay for medical care, etc.
DOORS
A man beyond poor reports for his first day on a job just to discover it has been offered to someone else and that person has been hired. Sad...
A WOMAN ASLEEP ON HER BUNDLE
A woman debates trying to actually befriend a woman living on the street, but not seemingly "crazy" and not begging, etc.
CITIES AND OTHER CITIES
A rather strange depiction of a woman's battle with a fly during her long bus ride.
ONE-ROOM SORROWS
Quite bleak. A mother and her five children starving and cold...
STRAY STEPS
Uh. This was quite an intense and scary story of a diabetic person who would steal, beg, or sell her body for food to get her through the day to the next day...and the dogs who rescued her!
THIRTEEN MONTHS OF SUNRISE
A sweet short story about Kadine Kiros, a scientist from Ethiopia in Sudan studying the Gezira Scheme-the largest irrigation project on the African continent and a Sudanese woman who become friends.
Sweet.
PASSING
A daughter's father dies. Although he wished for her, his youngest, the 'last grape in the bunch' to be a doctor. She was unable to fulfill his wish.
Poignant.
EDGES
What is real? Who is real? This confidant? This person always by her side that only she can see, hear, experience? An 'imaginary friend'?
A WEEK OF LOVE
Within 7 days a man enters her life, declares his love for her, and then disappears, ghosting her...
Sad...
IN THE MUCK OF THE SOUL
Sad story of those seeking help to pay for medical care, etc.
DOORS
A man beyond poor reports for his first day on a job just to discover it has been offered to someone else and that person has been hired. Sad...
A WOMAN ASLEEP ON HER BUNDLE
A woman debates trying to actually befriend a woman living on the street, but not seemingly "crazy" and not begging, etc.
CITIES AND OTHER CITIES
A rather strange depiction of a woman's battle with a fly during her long bus ride.
ONE-ROOM SORROWS
Quite bleak. A mother and her five children starving and cold...
STRAY STEPS
Uh. This was quite an intense and scary story of a diabetic person who would steal, beg, or sell her body for food to get her through the day to the next day...and the dogs who rescued her!
May 7, 2021
Mentre cercavo un libro di un autore o un'autrice sudanese, ho scoperto Tayeb Salih, che ha scritto "La stagione della migrazione a Nord", uno dei romanzi in lingua araba più tradotti e celebrati. Avevo voglia però di leggere qualcosa di più recente, e magari meno famoso, e quindi sono andata a spulciare questa pagina Wikipedia, e ho scelto di leggere un'opera di Mamoun perché, oltre ad essere piuttosto giovane, è anche un'attivista (è stata arrestata durante una protesta pacifica e ha subito diverse violenze, incluse minacce di stupro, da parte dei poliziotti), il che, ho pensato, magari voleva dire che leggerla mi avrebbe fatto capire qualcosa del Sudan.
In effetti il suo libro, una raccolta di racconti molto breve, è profondamente intessuto di tematiche politiche: povertà estrema, corruzione delle istituzioni e delle organizzazioni di beneficienza, ma anche salute mentale e lutto sono alcuni dei temi condensati in queste pagine. Tuttavia la scrittura dell'autrice procede spesso per immagini, allusioni, atmosfere: non fa nomi, non precisa contesti spazio-temporali, mostra vignette senza raccontarci lo sfondo, per cui questi racconti non sono "di denuncia" se non in senso molto ampio.
Il libro è molto intimo, narrativamente semplice, le storie raccontate non si concludono con grandi rivelazioni o svolte inaspettate, giocano più sulla capacità di generare forti emozioni che sull'affetto verso i personaggi. Mi è piaciuto molto intravedere attraverso le sue descrizioni la città di Khartum, la capitale del Sudan. L'ho cercata su internet e ho trovato foto di grattacieli, di due ampi fiuimi che si congiungono, di strade trafficate. C'è questo articolo in cui viene riportata una dichiarazione di Jafaar Mirghani, il direttore del Sudan Civilization Institute: "Non lasciatevi ingannare dalla città disordinata di oggi. Quella che può sembrare una pianificazione ‘ashwaa’i (caotica) ad uno straniero, prende in realtà forma dalla storia". Mi ha colpito molto perché se qualcuno mi avesse chiesto di immaginarmi la capitale del Sudan sicuramente non ci avrei messo i grattacieli, e altrettanto sicuramente avrei menzionato strade intricate e rumorose, che riflettono l'assenza di progettazione e non certo una storia di sovrapposizione fra popolazioni diverse, di zone adibite al commercio ed altre riservate alle élite.
Questo invece è un reportage molto più disincantato dalla capitale, che viene rappresentata come un parassita sonnolento, che succhia risorse al resto del Paese senza restituire nulla. L'élite della città viene descritta come indifferente, se non addirittura inconsapevole, della realtà fuori dalla metropoli, e le origini di questa situazione vengono tracciate nel passato coloniale delle città, che rappresentava l'unico punto di contatto del Paese per i britannici, e quindi anche il punto "occidentalizzato" che poteva guardare con distacco, o direttamente ignorare, tutto il resto
Tornando al libro, mi è piaciuto ma mi ha attraversata senza lasciarsi molto dietro: mentre leggevo ero commossa, spesso emozionata, ma quando l'ho finito me l'ero un po' scordato. Credo che il problema sia che il libro è talmente breve da non lasciare materialmente il tempo non solo di affezionarsi ai personaggi (che comunque, trattandosi di una raccolta di racconti, cambiano di continuo), ma anche alla voce dell'autrice, che pure mi è sembrata interessante e originale. Non è un libro brutto, tutt'altro: è scritto molto bene, e mi sembra anche molto denso di rabbia, di frustrazione e di amore per la propria città, ma non sono riuscita a "entrarci" davvero.
Fun fact: il titolo della raccolta viene viene dal calendario etiope, che ha 12 mesi, ciascuno di trenta giorni, più un tredicesimo mese Pagumen, composto dai restanti cinque o sei giorni.
In effetti il suo libro, una raccolta di racconti molto breve, è profondamente intessuto di tematiche politiche: povertà estrema, corruzione delle istituzioni e delle organizzazioni di beneficienza, ma anche salute mentale e lutto sono alcuni dei temi condensati in queste pagine. Tuttavia la scrittura dell'autrice procede spesso per immagini, allusioni, atmosfere: non fa nomi, non precisa contesti spazio-temporali, mostra vignette senza raccontarci lo sfondo, per cui questi racconti non sono "di denuncia" se non in senso molto ampio.
Il libro è molto intimo, narrativamente semplice, le storie raccontate non si concludono con grandi rivelazioni o svolte inaspettate, giocano più sulla capacità di generare forti emozioni che sull'affetto verso i personaggi. Mi è piaciuto molto intravedere attraverso le sue descrizioni la città di Khartum, la capitale del Sudan. L'ho cercata su internet e ho trovato foto di grattacieli, di due ampi fiuimi che si congiungono, di strade trafficate. C'è questo articolo in cui viene riportata una dichiarazione di Jafaar Mirghani, il direttore del Sudan Civilization Institute: "Non lasciatevi ingannare dalla città disordinata di oggi. Quella che può sembrare una pianificazione ‘ashwaa’i (caotica) ad uno straniero, prende in realtà forma dalla storia". Mi ha colpito molto perché se qualcuno mi avesse chiesto di immaginarmi la capitale del Sudan sicuramente non ci avrei messo i grattacieli, e altrettanto sicuramente avrei menzionato strade intricate e rumorose, che riflettono l'assenza di progettazione e non certo una storia di sovrapposizione fra popolazioni diverse, di zone adibite al commercio ed altre riservate alle élite.
Questo invece è un reportage molto più disincantato dalla capitale, che viene rappresentata come un parassita sonnolento, che succhia risorse al resto del Paese senza restituire nulla. L'élite della città viene descritta come indifferente, se non addirittura inconsapevole, della realtà fuori dalla metropoli, e le origini di questa situazione vengono tracciate nel passato coloniale delle città, che rappresentava l'unico punto di contatto del Paese per i britannici, e quindi anche il punto "occidentalizzato" che poteva guardare con distacco, o direttamente ignorare, tutto il resto
Tornando al libro, mi è piaciuto ma mi ha attraversata senza lasciarsi molto dietro: mentre leggevo ero commossa, spesso emozionata, ma quando l'ho finito me l'ero un po' scordato. Credo che il problema sia che il libro è talmente breve da non lasciare materialmente il tempo non solo di affezionarsi ai personaggi (che comunque, trattandosi di una raccolta di racconti, cambiano di continuo), ma anche alla voce dell'autrice, che pure mi è sembrata interessante e originale. Non è un libro brutto, tutt'altro: è scritto molto bene, e mi sembra anche molto denso di rabbia, di frustrazione e di amore per la propria città, ma non sono riuscita a "entrarci" davvero.
Fun fact: il titolo della raccolta viene viene dal calendario etiope, che ha 12 mesi, ciascuno di trenta giorni, più un tredicesimo mese Pagumen, composto dai restanti cinque o sei giorni.
May 21, 2020
Shorts of Sudan
Review of the Comma Press english translation (2019) of the Arabic language original 13 شهراً من إشراق الشمس (2009)
I read Thirteen Months of Sunrise as part of the Translated Fiction Online Book Club (TFOBC) which had been organized by Comma Press and 5 other UK independent publishers for an initial 6 week period (March 26 to April 30, 2020) during this current world pandemic situation. The Book Club will continue under the new name of the Borderless Book Club based on the enthusiastic response to the initial outing.
Trivia and Link
You can listen to the Borderless Book Club audio interview and Q&A with Comma Press publisher Becca Parkinson and translator Lissie Jaquette on Soundcloud here.
Review of the Comma Press english translation (2019) of the Arabic language original 13 شهراً من إشراق الشمس (2009)
I read Thirteen Months of Sunrise as part of the Translated Fiction Online Book Club (TFOBC) which had been organized by Comma Press and 5 other UK independent publishers for an initial 6 week period (March 26 to April 30, 2020) during this current world pandemic situation. The Book Club will continue under the new name of the Borderless Book Club based on the enthusiastic response to the initial outing.
Trivia and Link
You can listen to the Borderless Book Club audio interview and Q&A with Comma Press publisher Becca Parkinson and translator Lissie Jaquette on Soundcloud here.
August 11, 2025
In honour of women in translation month, I am making a conscious effort to read more translated fiction than I would any other month. I also wanted to explore different languages
This was my pick for Arabic, it was also one of the similar books suggested for a mouth full of salt, in terms of location.
Unfortunately for me, I did not enjoy this.
In the second story, first, second and third narration was kicking me and the narrator in the shins. I read this one paragraph over 5 times. I wish I highlighted it so you could see how confusing it was. I have returned it on Libby and I am not very keen on borrowing it again. This confusing pov bugged me till the end and against my better judgment, I did not dnf - that is on me
I found myself asking what the point of any story was. I think I struggled with this because my preference for short stories is the interconnected type. Sometimes, I venture out and it’s a hit or miss. This was a miss for me
It may be a me problem as this has won a literary prize.
This was my pick for Arabic, it was also one of the similar books suggested for a mouth full of salt, in terms of location.
Unfortunately for me, I did not enjoy this.
In the second story, first, second and third narration was kicking me and the narrator in the shins. I read this one paragraph over 5 times. I wish I highlighted it so you could see how confusing it was. I have returned it on Libby and I am not very keen on borrowing it again. This confusing pov bugged me till the end and against my better judgment, I did not dnf - that is on me
I found myself asking what the point of any story was. I think I struggled with this because my preference for short stories is the interconnected type. Sometimes, I venture out and it’s a hit or miss. This was a miss for me
It may be a me problem as this has won a literary prize.
August 2, 2024
I'm a sucker for short stories and this collection is no exception. I'm not sure which of the stories is my favorite. Thirteen Months touched me deeply - there's something beautiful when two people connect via their love for a common culture. Passing in it's descriptions of grief is another one that hit me hard - it's been two years and I still feel the absence of my father. A Week of Love is so delicate in its writing of feelings and emotions. On the other hand I did not understand the framing of In The Muck of the Soul though the story was full of pathos and sadness. Doors, again, is so spare in its writing yet so powerful in its message - as is One-Room Sorrows.
Highly recommended read.
Highly recommended read.
August 17, 2024
Such touching short stories touching on grief, love, mental health, poverty and religion.
The only loss of star is due to the fact each individual story could’ve been so much longer and had better development, as I felt some of the stories were rushed.
The only loss of star is due to the fact each individual story could’ve been so much longer and had better development, as I felt some of the stories were rushed.
April 23, 2020
Powerful collection of haunting short stories set in Sudan. I'm not sure if I have ever read any Sudanese authors before but I would read this one again.
February 15, 2022
This took me back to my shelterbox subscription days and I was really grateful to dip into a different country and culture. The translator really captured a curious lyricism that I encountered a few times. Nice.
January 21, 2024
"He let himself sink into daydreams." - from "Doors"
May 14, 2019
I was extremely lucky to be sent this book by Zoe @commapress .
You often hear the saying small and mighty- in a nutshell this book is just that. Yes it is short in length (70pages) yet it delivers so much and with a punch.
📕
It is a series of short interconnecting stories about individuals who linked with Sudan.
📕
This book is certainly powerful yet gentle,moving and breathtaking in equal measure.
📕
It is a stunning book that needs to be heard and shared.
📕
This is one of those rare books that will stay with you for a very long time.
🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟
📕
I also applaud @commapress for being committed to publish / translate books from writers in ‘banned countries ‘
Thank you so much for this amazing read.
#bookcommunity #fortheloveofreading #bookchoice #booksofinstagram #readerofig #bookofig #gifted #booksbooksbooks #loverofbook #literatureisbeauty
You often hear the saying small and mighty- in a nutshell this book is just that. Yes it is short in length (70pages) yet it delivers so much and with a punch.
📕
It is a series of short interconnecting stories about individuals who linked with Sudan.
📕
This book is certainly powerful yet gentle,moving and breathtaking in equal measure.
📕
It is a stunning book that needs to be heard and shared.
📕
This is one of those rare books that will stay with you for a very long time.
🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟
📕
I also applaud @commapress for being committed to publish / translate books from writers in ‘banned countries ‘
Thank you so much for this amazing read.
#bookcommunity #fortheloveofreading #bookchoice #booksofinstagram #readerofig #bookofig #gifted #booksbooksbooks #loverofbook #literatureisbeauty
August 8, 2021
Beautiful lyrical prose that I could spend time parsing. I admire both the author and the translator for such lyricism. I like the play with style, too, from conventional narrative to diary to screenplay. I would love to read more by Mamoun.
Some of my favorite phrases:
Some of my favorite phrases:
August 13, 2020
I read Thirteen Months of Sunrise by Rania Mamoun because I love translations by Elizabeth Jaquette. I hadn't heard of Rania Mamoun so was excited to read a new voice from Sudan.
I had to say I was surprised by how short a collection it is but the stories are so intense that it works really well as a brief punchy collection. The translation is as effective and fluid as readers of Jaquette would expect and the stories themselves are creative without losing power.
I particularly loved In The Muck of the Soul -- a meditation on the condition of a rough sleeping woman told in the form of a series of film shots -- and Cities and Other Cities, a story focusing in on a bus journey and a fly.
A very powerful collection of writing that leaves the reader with lots to dwell upon.
I had to say I was surprised by how short a collection it is but the stories are so intense that it works really well as a brief punchy collection. The translation is as effective and fluid as readers of Jaquette would expect and the stories themselves are creative without losing power.
I particularly loved In The Muck of the Soul -- a meditation on the condition of a rough sleeping woman told in the form of a series of film shots -- and Cities and Other Cities, a story focusing in on a bus journey and a fly.
A very powerful collection of writing that leaves the reader with lots to dwell upon.
April 29, 2021
In this courageous book of 10 short stories, we get glimpses of individuals in a setting we rarely can read about. Sudanese writer Rania Mamoun captures moments and lives in Thirteen Months of Sunrise, very worth reading--a homeless woman, a brief encounter with an Ethiopian, a woman taking public transportation, a writer, a man who loses his job, a woman and her dying father. These stories are raw and sometimes brief but contain so much feeling, so much loss, so much about Sudan and the area around. I don't want to say too much about the content for fear of spoiling. In a beautiful translation by Elisabeth Jaquette, we can read: "Your scent opens channels of memory, it invades me without warning, like armies of ants stinging me fiercely, chaotically: on my eyes, my skin, in my pores, my blood, even my ears, as they pick up the vibrations of your voice drawing closer."
September 26, 2019
This slim collection of short stories published by Comma Press is probably the first ever collection of short stories by a Sudanese woman to be translated into English. That ‘probably’ is telling: here is a literary culture so marginalised in the west that no one can say with complete certainty whether any similar books have ever been published. Rania Mamoun has published two novels in Arabic and several of her short stories have already been translated into English and appeared in anthologies. She is a newspaper and television journalist and an activist.
Whenever I read the word ‘activist’ my heart sinks and I brace myself for dull exposition and preachy polemic, but thankfully Mamoun has little interest in using literature to explain her country to outsiders. Don’t come to this collection expecting to learn much about Sudan. The stories feature ever-present poverty and inequality but tell outsiders little about why Sudan is such a country of extremes. There is nothing here about the legacy of colonialism, religious tensions or civil war. It’s possible that this is a deliberate strategy on Mamoun’s part, to avoid censorship or other repercussions from the authorities. That’s not to suggest the stories are apolitical, rather that they focus on the everyday lives and struggles of city dwellers and the interior worlds of the characters, not on the broader context. The only story that includes such details is the first one, ‘Thirteen Months of Sunrise,’ which describes a friendship between a Sudanese woman and an Ethiopian man, dwelling on the differences and similarities between the languages, food, clothing and music of the two countries.
The stories are slices of life, not driven by twists, big reveals, or characters learning something profound about themselves. The themes include love, death, madness, extreme poverty, religion and urban alienation. In ‘A Woman Asleep on her Bundle,’ a young woman develops a fascination with an elderly homeless woman who sleeps outside the mosque. The young woman observes the older woman’s daily habits, speculates about her life and listens to rumours about her. Finally her curiosity develops into a kind of impotent, inexpressible love. She writes ‘I felt bad for her; I felt helpless. I longed for her, and thought about helping her or inviting her to come home with me, but I always feared how she might respond.’ These stories are atmospheric, intimate and dignified portraits of people struggling on the edges. They are compassionate but not over earnest, rooted in a specific culture but describing universally recognisable themes and emotions.
Mamoun is a lyrical writer of stylish restraint and great versatility, and playfully inventive with form. The shortest story, ‘A Week of Love,’ recalls Hemingway’s six-word story in its brevity; ‘The Muck of the Soul’ is not exactly a screenplay, but gives instructions for camera angles, movements and fades; other stories have surreal or magical elements, swerve unexpectedly between points of view, or maintain a perfect balance between tragedy and comedy.
I particularly enjoyed the mysterious, beautiful, poetic ‘Edges,’ in which a woman writer recalls a failed romance. When her lover says ‘give me your hand’ she says ‘I had lived a whole lifetime in the space and time between when I lifted my hand – it moved through the air, reached its apex, began its descent – and when it settled in his palm.’ When the relationship ends she feels ‘I’d become as hollow as a reed, or flute, unable to hold a note.’ The true romance in her life, however, is with someone only she can see: a muse, imaginary friend or jinn. Their relationship is ‘A thrumming deep in my veins, which seeps out between words and the pauses between them, like plumes of smoke so hard to grasp.’ Mamoun’s stories are like those plumes of smoke, leaving things floating open-ended and unspoken.
Two stories in particular focus on battles with uncaring or inadequate bureaucracy. They contrast unexpected gestures of generosity with selfish indifference. In ‘In the Muck of the Soul’ a widow tries to get medical treatment for her desperately ill son. A doctor offers to pay for half the treatment, but the charity, which provides her only hope for the rest of money, only offer the illiterate mother Kafkaesque waiting and form-filling. In ‘Doors,’ doors are both portals to a better life and barriers against change. The protagonist struggles to arrive on time and decently dressed for the new job that he hopes will save his family. His bathroom door is ‘nothing more than a sheet of zinc with partially patched holes, but it mostly concealed whoever was behind it.’ His front door is shorter on one side than the other and opens after a terrible struggle ‘with a screech heard by half the neighbourhood.’ The doors of the bus snag his clean white shirt. In the face of these trials he puts his faith in god and tries not ‘to give this trivial, inconsequential thing the pleasure of spoiling his good mood.’ The well-drawn characters, elegant, restrained language and accretion of small details combine to huge emotional effect in this story. Much of its power comes from the contrast between the comically difficult daily commute and the devastating consequences of being late for work.
‘Thirteen Months of Sunrise’ is very short and you can easily read the whole thing in an afternoon, which is in fact what I did.
Whenever I read the word ‘activist’ my heart sinks and I brace myself for dull exposition and preachy polemic, but thankfully Mamoun has little interest in using literature to explain her country to outsiders. Don’t come to this collection expecting to learn much about Sudan. The stories feature ever-present poverty and inequality but tell outsiders little about why Sudan is such a country of extremes. There is nothing here about the legacy of colonialism, religious tensions or civil war. It’s possible that this is a deliberate strategy on Mamoun’s part, to avoid censorship or other repercussions from the authorities. That’s not to suggest the stories are apolitical, rather that they focus on the everyday lives and struggles of city dwellers and the interior worlds of the characters, not on the broader context. The only story that includes such details is the first one, ‘Thirteen Months of Sunrise,’ which describes a friendship between a Sudanese woman and an Ethiopian man, dwelling on the differences and similarities between the languages, food, clothing and music of the two countries.
The stories are slices of life, not driven by twists, big reveals, or characters learning something profound about themselves. The themes include love, death, madness, extreme poverty, religion and urban alienation. In ‘A Woman Asleep on her Bundle,’ a young woman develops a fascination with an elderly homeless woman who sleeps outside the mosque. The young woman observes the older woman’s daily habits, speculates about her life and listens to rumours about her. Finally her curiosity develops into a kind of impotent, inexpressible love. She writes ‘I felt bad for her; I felt helpless. I longed for her, and thought about helping her or inviting her to come home with me, but I always feared how she might respond.’ These stories are atmospheric, intimate and dignified portraits of people struggling on the edges. They are compassionate but not over earnest, rooted in a specific culture but describing universally recognisable themes and emotions.
Mamoun is a lyrical writer of stylish restraint and great versatility, and playfully inventive with form. The shortest story, ‘A Week of Love,’ recalls Hemingway’s six-word story in its brevity; ‘The Muck of the Soul’ is not exactly a screenplay, but gives instructions for camera angles, movements and fades; other stories have surreal or magical elements, swerve unexpectedly between points of view, or maintain a perfect balance between tragedy and comedy.
I particularly enjoyed the mysterious, beautiful, poetic ‘Edges,’ in which a woman writer recalls a failed romance. When her lover says ‘give me your hand’ she says ‘I had lived a whole lifetime in the space and time between when I lifted my hand – it moved through the air, reached its apex, began its descent – and when it settled in his palm.’ When the relationship ends she feels ‘I’d become as hollow as a reed, or flute, unable to hold a note.’ The true romance in her life, however, is with someone only she can see: a muse, imaginary friend or jinn. Their relationship is ‘A thrumming deep in my veins, which seeps out between words and the pauses between them, like plumes of smoke so hard to grasp.’ Mamoun’s stories are like those plumes of smoke, leaving things floating open-ended and unspoken.
Two stories in particular focus on battles with uncaring or inadequate bureaucracy. They contrast unexpected gestures of generosity with selfish indifference. In ‘In the Muck of the Soul’ a widow tries to get medical treatment for her desperately ill son. A doctor offers to pay for half the treatment, but the charity, which provides her only hope for the rest of money, only offer the illiterate mother Kafkaesque waiting and form-filling. In ‘Doors,’ doors are both portals to a better life and barriers against change. The protagonist struggles to arrive on time and decently dressed for the new job that he hopes will save his family. His bathroom door is ‘nothing more than a sheet of zinc with partially patched holes, but it mostly concealed whoever was behind it.’ His front door is shorter on one side than the other and opens after a terrible struggle ‘with a screech heard by half the neighbourhood.’ The doors of the bus snag his clean white shirt. In the face of these trials he puts his faith in god and tries not ‘to give this trivial, inconsequential thing the pleasure of spoiling his good mood.’ The well-drawn characters, elegant, restrained language and accretion of small details combine to huge emotional effect in this story. Much of its power comes from the contrast between the comically difficult daily commute and the devastating consequences of being late for work.
‘Thirteen Months of Sunrise’ is very short and you can easily read the whole thing in an afternoon, which is in fact what I did.
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