I have here a fine edition collecting three novels by the foremost Arabic language writer known outside of the Middle East. Egyptian novelist and journalist Naguib Mahfouz had the exceptional fortune of breaking into the Western world and reorienting Western readers' understanding of what the Middle East was like. This collection brings together three novels from three different phases of Mahfouz's career as a novelist. He began writing historical novels of Ancient Egypt, but none from that period are represented here. What we do get is a prime example of phase two of his career - the realist phase. Midaq Alley, from 1947, recounts in slice-of-life style a year in the goings on of a Cairo neighborhood. It's not exactly a slum; it's more like a small remnant of earlier days. In this little world, everyone knows everyone, no secrets stay hidden for long, and life is both bitter and sweet. A reader may feel a kind of warmth for these characters, no matter how deep their flaws are. Characters slide in and out of the narrative, disappear and then come back for a while. Really, though, the protagonist is in the title - Midaq Alley.
The second novel comes from Mahfouz's third phase as a writer. Here, he dips into more experimental and modernist ventures, trying out Western genres in an Egyptian setting. The Thief and the Dogs, from 1961, tells the story of Said Mahran, and the few weeks, maybe two, after his release from prison. Said, a professional thief, feels he was betrayed, and vows vengeance on his former associates and ex-girlfriend, mother of his daughter. Told in stream-of-consciousness fashion reminiscent of Faulkner, with layers unconscious thoughts bubbling up, the reader quickly learns that Said is not a nice guy. Filled with rage and bitterness, coupled with an absurdly high opinion of himself, he stumbles his way through his attempted revenges, only to fail with disastrous results. It reads to me as if James M. Cain or Jim Thompson had set a novel in Cairo.
The last novel comes from Mahfouz's final phase as a writer, the philosophical phase. Miramar, from 1967, is, like Middaq Alley, set in a tight location with a limited number of characters who interact in various ways according to the setting. In this case, the setting is a Pension near the old resort district that Westerners used to frequent. The characters staying at this pension represent various perspectives on the political history of Egypt from the 1920s through the 1960s. Here again, Mahfouz draws on modernist techniques of internal monologue to tell the story. However, he uses the technique of focusing on about four key events, retelling the event each time from a different perspective. Much lying and self-delusion goes on. Mahfouz carefully sets the conditions for the reader to see the failures of the older generation, his generation, as the cause for the self-destructiveness of the new generation.
Reading these novels was a curious exercise for me, an entry into a world I knew little about. As John Fowles' introduction to Miramar makes clear, translating even modern Arabic-language literature into a Western language is terribly difficult. The writer in Arabic is burdened with the expectation of Arabic literary history, which forces the writer into an artificially graceful style of old-fashioned elocution, a style that seems highly artificial to modern Western readers. The writer in Arabic has few models to go on for how to represent modern characters realistically, and have them speak in plain and vernacular styles. Thus, the translators have the task of trying to make the writing palatable for modern audiences in the West while not betraying the feeling of the original. I have no idea how successful these translators were at doing that. It was interesting to find characters repeatedly talking in roundabout ways, often metaphorically, with liberal allusions to and quotations from the Koran. Characters talk in ritualistic phrases that are closer to Medieval and Early Modern English dialogue than to contemporary dialogue. Miramar is also a little difficult because so much of it rests on knowledge of Egyptian political history in the 20th century. There are notes to help the reader, but I still found myself looking up various things just to get a sense of what the characters were talking about and why they acted as they did.
All in all, this is a very enjoyable volume for someone who wants to be a bit adventurous in their reading.